I have bespoke an excellent breakfast: you must be hungry.

I am a very tolerable cook; a monk's son ought to be! You will be startled at my genius in the dressing of fish.

My singing, I trust, will not disturb you.

I always sing while I prepare a salad; it harmonises the ingredients." And slinging his carbine over his shoulder, Paolo sauntered from the room, and closed the door.
Glyndon was already deep in the contents of the following letter:-- "When I first received thee as my pupil, I promised Zanoni, if convinced by thy first trials that thou couldst but swell, not the number of our order, but the list of the victims who have aspired to it in vain, I would not rear thee to thine own wretchedness and doom,--I would dismiss thee back to the world.

I fulfil my promise.