The faithful who have come from afar to see him perform Mass, are a little surprised to see him take a pinch of snuff in the midst of the azure-tinted clouds of incense.

In his hours of leisure he plays at billiards for exercise, by order of his physicians.
He believes in God.

He is not only a good Christian, but a devotee.

In his enthusiasm for the Virgin Mary, he has invented a useless dogma, and disfigured the Piazza di Spagna by a monument of bad taste.

His morals are pure, as they always have been, even when he was a young priest: such instances are common enough among our clergy, but rare, not to say miraculous, beyond the Alps.
He has nephews, who, wonderful to relate, are neither rich nor powerful, nor even princes.