irresolute, he went on to urge me by all that I held dear to do nothing
so foolish. "Do you suppose," he said, "that YOU will find her--knowing
nothing of Arezzo--and she knowing all? Do you think her so light, that,
having borne the first sight of you already without faltering, she will
fall to you at the second? You have taught me wiselier about her out of
your own mouth. Let us question the friar." He turned to Palamone, who
had his mouth open and was scratching in his beard.

The frate said that Virginia herself had delivered the letter into his
hands as he stood taking the air at the inn door. He scoffed at the
notion that he could be mistaken; had he not nearly lost his life for
her already? He described her in terms too luscious to be palatable--a
fine and full wench, he called her, bare-headed, bare-necked, with the
breasts of Hebe. "And," says he, "Don Francis, you may call her your
wife or by what other pleasant phrase you please, but though I'd allow
you, to do you pleasure, that that were what she ought to be--wife, at
least, to somebody--saving your respect, she's no wife at all. There's
not a wedded woman in all Italy would go abroad with a bare bosom--you
may take the word of an expert for that. She's tricked you, sir,--or you
have tricked her. She has had what she has had without responsibility--
and now she's away; and if I may be allowed the remark, I should say you
were well rid of her. An excellent dinner awaits you here--more than
enough for one, a bare pittance for two; a courteous banker awaits you
in Florence. Old Palamone will scratch his eyes out to save you. After
dinner, sir, half of Arezzo--"

I said, "Palamone, I lay this command upon you, since you profess
yourself my friend. Find me Virginia, wheresoever she may be. I will
give you a thousand guineas. Without her you have not one farthing of
mine."