The Marchesa Fermi remained.
"Make haste, Professor," she said, "for my daughter is expecting me this evening, with those other ladies whose shoulders are on view!" "Do make haste, then!" said the middle-aged spinster, contemptuously.
"Afterwards you can speak for the benefit of the poor creatures who do not show their shoulders!" A fair-haired, extremely handsome foreigner, in a very low gown, cast a withering glance at the poor, lean, carefully covered little shoulders of the contemptuous spinster, who, greatly vexed, grew as red as a lobster.
"Well, then," the Professor began, "as the Marchesa, and probably the other ladies who are in such a hurry, already know as much as I do myself about the Saint of Jenne, before he left Jenne, I will omit that part of the story.

A month ago, then, in October, I did not even remember having read in the papers, in June or July, about this Benedetto, who was preaching and performing miracles at Jenne.

Well, one day, coming out of San Marcello, I met a certain Porretti, who used to write for the _Osservatore_, but does so no longer.

This Porretti walked on with me, and we spoke of the condemnation of Giovanni Selva's works which is expected from day to day, and which--by the way--has not yet been pronounced.

Porretti told me there was a friend of Selva's in Rome at present who would be even more talked of than Selva himself.