Note 1 — PADRE VINCENZO.
Reading edition
One morning Padre Vincenzo had to pass through the Rotonda1 on business of his community. A temptation of the throat2 took him as he saw a pair of fine plump pigeons such as you, perhaps, cannot see anywhere out of the Rotonda hanging up for sale. Padre Vincenzo bought the pigeons, and took them home secretly under his cloak. In his cell he plucked the pigeons, and cooked them over a little fire. The unwonted smell of roast pigeon soon perfumed the corridor, and two or three brothers, having peeped through the keyhole and seen what was going on in Padre Vincenzo’s cell, ran off to say to the Father-General,