Gerard, hurrying along to this interview, was suddenly arrested, and rooted to earth at a shop window.
His quick eye had discerned in that window a copy of Lactantius, lying open. "That is fairly writ, any way," thought he.
He eyed it a moment more with all his eyes.
It was not written at all. It was printed.
Gerard groaned. "I am sped; mine enemy is at the door. The press is in Rome."
He went into the shop, and, affecting nonchalance, inquired how long the printing-press had been in Rome. The man said he believed there was no such thing in the city. "Oh, the Lactantius; that was printed on the top of the Apennines."
"What, did the printing-press fall down there out o' the moon?"
"Nay, messer," said the trader, laughing, "it shot up there out of Germany. See the title-page!"
Gerard took the Lactantius eagerly, and saw the following:—
Operâ et impensis Sweynheim et Pannartz
Alumnorum Joannis Fust.
Impressum Subiacis. a.d. 1465.