as it well could be. In three words she placed at my disposal her house, her purse, her friends, among whom she named several cardinals.
"Look upon me as your mother," she said. "Your father charges me to keep an eye on you and advise your inexperience."
To prove to me that she did not consider her charge a sinecure, she began forthwith to put me on my guard against the perilous attractions that Rome has for a young man of my age and exhorted me strenuously to avoid them. I was to shun bad company, artists in particular, and associate only with such persons as she should recommend to me. In a word, she gave me a sermon under three heads. I replied respectfully and with the proper amount of hypocrisy.
As I was rising to take leave:
"I regret," she said, "that my son the marquis is just now absent at our country-place in the Romagna, but I wish to make you acquainted with my second son, Don Ottavio, who will soon be a monsignor. I hope that you will like him and that you will be friends together, as you should be" And she added hurriedly: "For you are of nearly the same age, and he is a quiet, steady young man, like yourself."
She sent at once to summon Don Ottavio. I beheld a tall, pale young man of melancholy aspect, who never took his eyes from the floor, already exhaling an odor of monkish hypocrisy.
The marquise, without giving him a chance to say a word, made me the most courteous proffers of service in his name. He confirmed every one of his mother's words with a low bow, and it was agreed that
