CHAPTER XV.
Monsieur Dante--Condemned musket--Sporting--Sweet rivulet--The Earl's Home--The pool--The sonorous voice--What dost thou read ?--Man of peace--Zohar and Mishna--Money-changers.
So I studied French and Italian under the tuition of the banished priest, to whose house I went regularly every evening to receive instruction.

I made considerable progress in the acquisition of the two languages.

I found the French by far the most difficult, chiefly on account of the accent, which my master himself possessed in no great purity, being a Norman by birth.

The Italian was my favourite.
'Vous serez un jour un grand philologue, mon cher,' said the old man, on our arriving at the conclusion of Dante's Hell.
'I hope I shall be something better,' said I, 'before I die, or I shall have lived to little purpose.' 'That's true, my dear! philologist--one small poor dog.

What would you wish to be ?' 'Many things sooner than that; for example, I would rather be like him who wrote this book.' 'Quoi, Monsieur Dante?
He was a vagabond, my dear, forced to fly from his country.