An Italian country boy tells stories to his padrone, and lo and behold, they turn out to be mostly tales from the lives of the Saints, with an admixture of pre-Chistian mythology -- which is almost redundant, as so much popular piety came from there anyway. Charming, but frankly little better than urbane entertainment reading. I know that will suund like blasphemy to many afficianados of Rolfe, but I number myself among them, indeed in the front ranks, after more than half a century's reading, and suspect that Rolfe himself would be the first to chuckle over the idea that anybody made very much of them after all these years. Actually, there is some unexpected fascination in the shadowy portrait of the padrone, one of the first of Rolfe's many published dream-images of himself, and remarkably free of the bitterness of later such efforts. Those who enjoy this book should find and read the subsequent collection, IN HIS OWN IMAGE, which to my taste was far more enjoyable -- one of the few instances I can recall of a sequel's surpassing the original. ( )