I got to know the Pere Vergile[27] and had a great talk with him.

He was both wise and strong, with ingratiating, gentle manners.

Had he gone as a boy from his little Italian fishing village to New York or Paris, he would have certainly come to greatness and honour.

One afternoon I took Oscar to see him: the monastery was not more than three-quarters of an hour's stroll from our hotel; but Oscar grumbled at the walk as a nuisance, said it was miles and miles; the road, too, was rough, and the sun hot.

The truth was, he was abnormally lazy.