But your mother took counsel with Messer Arcolano."
He shrugged, and there was contempt in the lines of his mouth. He
distrusted Arcolano, the regular cleric who was my mother's confessor and
spiritual adviser, exerting over her a very considerable influence. She,
herself, had admitted that it was this Arcolano who had induced her to that
horrid traffic in my father's life and liberty which she was mercifully
spared from putting into effect.
"Messer Arcolano," he resumed after a pause, "has a good friend in
Piacenza, a pedagogue, a doctor of civil and canon law, a man who, he says,
is very learned and very pious, named Astorre Fifanti. I have heard of
this Fifanti, and I do not at all agree with Messer Arcolano. I have said
so. But your mother..." He broke off. "It is decided that you go to him
at once, to take up your study of the humanities under his tutelage, and
that you abide with him until you are of an age for ordination, which your
mother hopes will be very soon. Indeed, it is her wish that you should
enter the subdeaconate in the autumn, and your novitiate next year, to fit
you for the habit of St. Augustine."
He fell silent, adding no comment of any sort, as if he waited to hear what
of my own accord I might have to urge. But my mind was incapable of
travelling beyond the fact that I was to go out into the world to-morrow.
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