“What!” replied the Genoese, without letting me finish my remark, “do you think I should make an exception in favour of a set of forty ignorant, lazy, vicious, idle, hypocritical scoundrels who live bad lives under the cloak of humility, and eat up the houses of the poor simpletons who provide for them, when they ought to be earning their own bread?”
“But how about his reverend highness the abbot?”
“A stuck-up peasant who plays the part of a prince, and is fool enough to think himself one.”
“But he is a prince.”
“As much a prince as I am. I look upon him as a mere buffoon.”
“What has he done to you?”
“Nothing; but he is a monk.”
“He is a friend of mine.”
“I cannot retract what I have said, but I beg your pardon.”
This Giustiniani had a great influence upon me, although I did not know it, for I thought my vocation was sure. But my idea of becoming a monk at Einsiedel came to an end as follows: