"Tut, tut, tut!" grumbled her husband crossly.
"Well, what harm is that? I only said so in fun. You understood, didn't you, Sür Commissari? That blessed man there never understands anything. I never get any coffee for myself, anyway. I am taking mallow-water now for a dizzy head."
"Don't talk so much, don't talk so much!" her husband interpolated, and the Commissary, setting down the empty cup, told the good woman that he was coming to see her flowers presently, and this gallantry was like the act of one who, at a café, throws the money upon the tray, that the waiter may take it and be gone.
Signora Peppina understood, and awed by the ferocious eyes of her Carlascia, withdrew in haste.
"Listen, listen, listen," the Commissary exclaimed, covering his brow with his left hand, and pressing his temples. "Oh!" he ejaculated, suddenly remembering, "I have it! I wanted to inquire if Engineer Ribera is in Oria at present."
"He is not here now, but I believe he is coming very shortly."
"Does Engineer Ribera spend much money on this Maironi family?"
"He certainly must spend a great deal. I don't believe Don Franco has more than three svanziche a day of his own, and she——" The Receiver blew across the palm of his hand. "So you see——! They keep a servant. They have a little girl about two years old, and so they must needs keep a maid to look after the child. They send away for flowers, books, music, and all sorts of things. Of an evening they play cards, and there is always a bottle of wine. It takes a good many svanziche to live in this way, you know."
The Commissary reflected a moment with a clouded brow, and eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and then, in short, disjointed sentences that sounded like fragments of an oracle, he let it be understood that Engineer Ribera, an Imperial and Royal official, recently favoured by the Imperial and Royal government with a promotion in loco, should exert a better influence over his nephew's family. Then with further questionings and further observations touching the engineer's present weaknesses, he intimated to Bianconi that his paternal attention should be directed with special secrecy and delicacy towards their Imperial and Royal colleague, in order that—should this become necessary—they might be able to enlighten their Superiors concerning certain acts of tolerance which would be scandalous. He ended by inquiring if Bianconi was aware that the lawyer V. from Varenna and another individual from Loveno were in the habit of visiting the Maironis quite often. The Receiver knew this, and had learned from his Peppina that they came to make music. "I don't believe it," the Commissary announced, with sudden and unusual asperity. "Your wife does not understand at all. If you go on like this, my dear Bianconi, they will lead you by the nose. Those two are a couple of rascals, who would be better off at Kufstein. [K] You must seek for more information, and when you have obtained it, you will pass it on to me. And now let us go into the garden. By the way, when anything comes from Lugano for the Marchesa Maironi——" Zérboli finished the sentence with a gesture of amiable munificence, and started forward, followed by the deeply mortified mastiff.
Signora Peppina allowed them to find her in the garden watering the flowers aided by a small boy. The Commissary looked, admired, and found a means of giving the subaltern police-officer a little lesson. By praising her flowers he easily led Signora Bianconi to mention Franco, but, as if quite indifferent to that gentleman, he did not dwell a moment upon him, but stuck to the flowers, declaring that Maironi could not possibly have finer ones. Little cries, groans, and ejaculations broke from the humble Signora Peppina, who was really embarrassed by such a comparison. But the Commissary insisted. How? Even the Casa Maironi fuchsias were finer? The heliotrope and the pelargonia also? How about the jasmine?