And he suffered, without returning it, the embrace which told of their gratitude, almost as if vexed by this unnecessary demonstration, vexed that they should not accept more simply an act which to him seemed so simple and natural. "Yes, yes!" said he, "now let us go in and drink; it will be far more profitable!"
The wine of Niscioree, clear and red as a ruby, at once delicate and strong, flattered and soothed the inner-man of the impatient Signor Giacomo, who, in those years of oidium, seldom wet his lips in undiluted wine, but gloomily sipped the Grimelli wine, of watery memory.
"Est, est, [G] is it not, Signor Giacomo?" said Uncle Piero, seeing Puttini gaze with devoted eyes into the glass he held. "But here at least, there is no danger of expiring like a certain man: et propter nimium est dominus meus mortuus est."
"I feel as if I were being resuscitated," Signor Giacomo answered, speaking very slowly and almost under his breath, his gaze still fixed on the glass.
"Then you must give us a toast," the other said, rising. "But if you will not speak, why then I must do so," and he recited merrily—
"Long live he and long live she,
And now we'll be off, and leave them free!"
Signor Giacomo emptied his glass, puffed loudly and winked hard, in consequence of the varied sentiments which were running riot in his soul, while the last perfume, the last flavour of the wine were fading in his mouth. He offered his duty to the "most revered" Signora Teresa, his devotion to the "most amiable" little bride, his respects to the "most accomplished" young husband. Then, gesticulating with head and arms, he declared himself undeserving of the thanks which were being lavished upon him, and taking his great hat and his stick, he started—humble and puffing, with mingled feelings of relief and regret—to follow the placid bulk of the "most worshipful" engineer.
"And you, Franco?" Signora Teresa enquired immediately.
"I am going," he replied.