"You think so," answered Giraldi. "Boy, what do you know of what I can or cannot do? I tell you that kings tremble when they feel that Gregorio Giraldi's hand is upon them; that the Holy Father in Rome even, only knows himself to be infallible so long as I am near him. And shall I not fulfil the desire of your heart? Not give into your arms that beautiful woman, whom you may possess at any moment you choose? Are you not young and handsome? Are you not strong and courageous? What is impossible to a handsome and young man who is strong and courageous, where a woman is in question? I tell you that the times of Saul are not yet gone by, who went out to seek his father's asses, and found a kingdom. The letter in your pocket might prove it to you. Do you fancy yourself worth less than that clumsy German sailor? Surely not. And he has won the love of a German maiden, to whom men of his position would not generally dare to lift their eyes. And now you! Do you not know that God has ever specially loved shepherds and shown Himself gracious to them? Have you never, as you drove your goats on the mountains near Tivoli, heard a voice out of the thundering cataracts of the Arno, or out of the sighing of the wind in the oak trees of Arsoli, which said, 'Poor sunburnt, ragged boy, in a few years you, a beautiful youth, dressed like the gentlemen who approach yonder in their smart carriages over the dusty roads, shall walk through streets of the capital of the northern barbarians, whose very names you do not yet know?' Believe me, my son, such voices may be heard by all, only one must understand them, as I have always understood those which speak to me. Or if you will not trust my guidance, let me speak to you through the mouth of the worthy man who protected your tender youth, and whom you may thank, that you do not still tend your goats. I had written to him about you, and how wonderful it was that you, favoured with these gifts of mind and body, should be of such low birth as are the people you have respected as your parents. And what does he reply?" Giraldi had seized the priest's letter, and read: "'A miracle, truly, my dear sir, but are we not surrounded by miracles, so that they often appear no miracles just because they are so near us? And has God lost His omnipotence because the serpent of doubt and unbelief lifts its head now higher than ever? Can He not breathe His Spirit into a clod if He will? make the dead to live again? lighten the darkness in which the origin of so many men, and--I must admit--of our good Antonio also, is enveloped? Can He not raise up for a man who stands solitary and pines for love, a dear relation in a seeming stranger?' Look, Antonio! there it stands, written in your honoured friend's own hand."