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On his return at night to his palace, he found Count Attilio

seated at supper. Don Roderick, full of thought, took a chair,

but said little.

Scarcely was the table cleared, and the servants departed, when

the count, beginning to rally his dull companion, said, "Cousin,

when will you pay me my wager?"

"San Martin's day has not yet passed."

"Well, you will have to pay it; for all the saints in the

calendar may pass, before you--"

"We will see about that!" said Don Roderick.

"Cousin, you would play the politician, but you cannot deceive

me; I am so certain that I have won the wager, that I stand ready

for another."

"Why!"

"Why? because the father-the father-in short, this friar has

converted you."

"One of your fine imaginations, truly!"