"The Flying Monk, sir, Joseph of Copertino. A mighty saint and conjuror!
Or perhaps you would like some other book? I have many, many lives of
santi here. Look at this one of the great Egidio, for instance. I can
tell you all about him, for he raised my mother's grand-uncle from the
dead; yes, out of the grave, as one may say. You'll find out all about
it in this book; and it's only one of his thousand miracles. And here is
the biography of the renowned Giangiuseppe, a mighty saint and - - "
I was paying little heed; the flying monk had enthralled me. An
unsuspected pioneer of aviation . . . here was a discovery!
"He flew?" I queried, my mind reverting to the much-vaunted triumphs of
modern science.
"Why not? The only reason why people don't fly like that nowadays is
because - well, sir, because they can't. They fly with machines, and
think it something quite new and wonderful. And yet it's as old as the
hills! There was Iscariot, for example - Icarus, I mean - - "
"Pure legend, my good man."
"Everything becomes legend, if the gentleman will have the goodness to
wait. And here is the biography of - - "
"How much for Joseph of Copertino?" Cost what it may, I said to myself,
that volume must be mine.
He took it up and began to turn over the pages lovingly, as though
handling some priceless Book of Hours.
