He was about thirty-four, and had been made a bishop by the grace of God, the Holy See, and my mother.

After pronouncing over me a blessing, which I received kneeling, and giving me his hand to kiss, he embraced me warmly, calling me his dear son in the Latin language, in which he continued to address me.

I thought that, being a Calabrian, he might feel ashamed of his Italian, but he undeceived me by speaking in that language to M.
Grimani.

He told me that, as he could not take me with him from Venice, I should have to proceed to Rome, where Grimani would take care to send me, and that I would procure his address at Ancona from one of his friends, called Lazari, a Minim monk, who would likewise supply me with the means of continuing my journey.
"When we meet in Rome," he added, "we can go together to Martorano by way of Naples.

Call upon me to-morrow morning, and have your breakfast with me.