The only chance left was to call on all his
friends in Pisa who had daughters out at service, and to try what
he could accomplish, by bribery and persuasion, that way.
After a whole day occupied in solicitations, promises, and
patient smoothing down of innumerable difficulties, the result of
his efforts in the new direction was an accession of six more
shepherdesses. This brought him on bravely from twenty-three to
twenty-nine, and left him, at last, with only one anxiety--where
was he now to find shepherdess number thirty?
He mentally asked himself that important question, as he entered
a shady by-street in the neighborhood of the Campo Santo, on his
way back to the Melani Palace. Sauntering slowly along in the
middle of the road, and fanning himself with his handkerchief
after the oppressive exertions of the day, he passed a young girl
who was standing at the street door of one of the houses,
apparently waiting for somebody to join her before she entered
the building.
"Body of Bacchus!" exclaimed the steward (using one of those old
Pagan ejaculations which survive in Italy even to the present
day), "there stands the prettiest girl I have seen yet. If she
would only be shepherdess number thirty, I should go home to
supper with my mind at ease. I'll ask her, at any rate. Nothing
can be lost by asking, and everything may be gained. Stop, my
dear," he continued, seeing the girl turn to go into the house as
he approached her.
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