Saints abound in my country, if you'd believe people's account of themselves." "Not quite so, Signor Bolto.

You and me no great saint.

Italian honor saint because he holy and good." By this time Ithuel had got his two feet on the round of his seat, his knees spread so as to occupy as much space as an unusual length of leg would permit, and his arms extended on the tops of two chairs, one on each side of him, in a way to resemble what is termed a spread eagle.
Andrea Barrofaldi regarded all this with wonder.

It is true, he expected to meet with no great refinement in a wine-house like that of Benedetta; but he was unaccustomed to see such nonchalance of manner in a man of the stranger's class, or, indeed, of any class; the Italian mariners present occupying their chairs in simple and respectful attitudes, as if each man had the wish to be as little obtrusive as possible.

Still he let no sign of his surprise escape him, noting all that passed in a grave but attentive silence.