Of my pockets I turned in the direction of
the hotel, promising myself some new if not exactly light reading.
But hardly had I proceeded twenty paces before the shopkeeper came
running after me with another formidable bundle under his arm. More
books! An ominous symptom - the clearest demonstration of my defeat; I
was already a marked man, a good customer. It was humiliating, after my
long years' experience of the south.
And there resounded an unmistakable note of triumph in his voice, as he
said:
"Some more biographies, sir. Read them at your leisure, and pay me what
you like. You cannot help being generous; I see it in your face."
"I always try to encourage polite learning, if that is what you think to
decipher in my features. But it rains santi this morning," I added,
rather sourly.
"The gentleman is pleased to joke! May it rain soldi tomorrow."
"A little shower, possibly. But not a cloud-burst, like today. . . ."
X
THE FLYING MONK
As to the flying monk, there is no doubt whatever that he deserved his
name. He flew. Being a monk, these feats of his were naturally confined
to convents and their immediate surroundings, but that does not alter
the facts of the case.
Of the flights that he took in the little town of Copertino-alone, more
than seventy, says Father Rossi whom I follow throughout, are on record
in the depositions which were taken on oath from eye-witnesses after his
death.
