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196 Neither Francesca nor Guido were sufficiently familiar with the English tongue to understand the conversation that was going on around them; but one name rivetted Arden's attention, as soon did the dialogue in which that name was mentioned. Francesca, too, observed his change of countenance, which led her to mark the group on which his eye rested; and if not able to comprehend the whole, she yet understood a considerable part—enough to guess the rest. The speakers were three men, rather beyond middle life. One was pale and cadaverous, as if every feature gave testimony to the length of his vigils and the rigour of his fasts, while straight black hair hanging down on each side his face added to his wild and neglected appearance. His sombre dress was threadbare, and more than one rent was visible in his cloak; and yet any who noted proceedings might have observed that he had taken care to help himself to the best and the hottest, while the nearly empty stoup beside exhaled the odour of some spirit more potent than merely that of grace—it was the best French brandy. Hezekiah Pray-Unceasingly-to-the-Lord was a fit specimen of the times, half hypocrite, half fanatic; so far just in his deception, that sometimes he deceived others, and sometimes himself. Near