On the following day, the new-comer moved in, with his belongings, consisting of a small quantity of new furniture, barely sufficient for himself and his one servant, and a number of very heavy cases, which turned out to be full of books. Gigi, the carpenter, was at once sent for to put up plain shelves for these, and he took stock of the lodger while the latter was explaining what he wanted.
"He is a gentleman," said Gigi to Toto, that very evening, as they stood filling their pipes at the corner of the Vicolo del Soldati. "His name is Malipieri. He is as black as the horses at a funeral of the first-class, and he is not a Roman."
"Who knows what race of animal this may be?" Toto was not in a good humour.
"He is of the race of gentlemen," asserted Gigi confidently.
"Then he will end badly," observed Toto. "Let us go and drink. It is better."
"Let us go and drink," repeated Gigi. "You have a sensible thought sometimes. I think this man is an engineer, or an architect. He wants a draughtsman's table."
"Evil befall his little dead ones, whatever he is," returned the other, by way of welcome to the young man who had moved into the palace.
"He advanced me ten francs to buy wood for the shelves," said Gigi, who was by far the more cheerful of the two.
"Come and drink," returned Toto, relevantly or irrelevantly. "That is much better."
So they turned into the wine shop.