Spicca made no answer to this, and Giovanni determined to outstay him, or rather, to stay until he rose to go and then go with him. It was tedious work for he was not a man who could talk against time on all occasions. But he struggled bravely and Spicca at last got up from his deep chair. They went out together, and stopped as though by common consent upon the brilliantly lighted landing of the first floor.
"Seriously, Spicca," said Giovanni, "I am afraid Orsino is falling in love with this pretty stranger. If you can tell me anything about her, please do so."
Spicca stared at the wall, hesitated a moment, and then looked straight into his companion's eyes.
"Have you any reason to suppose that I, and I especially, know anything about this lady?" he asked.
"No—except that you know everything."
"That is a fable." Spicca turned from him and began to descend the stairs.
Giovanni followed and laid a hand upon his arm.
"You will not do me this service?" he asked earnestly.
Again Spicca stopped and looked at him.
"You and I are very old friends, Giovanni," he said slowly. "I am older than you, but we have stood by each other very often—in places more slippery than these marble steps. Do not let us quarrel now, old friend. When I tell you that my omniscience exists only in the vivid imaginations of people whose tea I like, believe me, and if you wish to do me a kindness—for the sake of old times—do not help to spread the idea that I know everything."