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"Be quiet," repeated Don Abbondio: "think you we can tell the

saints all that passes through our brains? Think rather of

thanking him for the kindness he has done you."

"Oh, as to that I have already thought of it; do you think I have

no manners, no politeness?"

"Politeness, my good woman, does not consist in telling people

things they don't like to hear. Have a little discretion, I pray

you. Weigh well your words, speak but little, and that only when

it is indispensable. There is no danger in silence."

"You do much worse with all your--" began Perpetua. But "Hush,"

said Don Abbondio, and, taking off his hat, he bowed profoundly.

The Unknown was coming to meet them, having recognised the curate

approaching. "I could have wished," said he, "to offer you my

house on a more agreeable occasion; but, under any circumstances,

I esteem myself happy in serving you."