"Nothing but a strong scent of dead carrion that I can smell," answered Antonio.
"Well," said the contadino, with a grin, "I do not wonder, for there's carrion down at our house, and the worst carrion a man think of, for it's not only dead carrion, but live carrion, too."
"Alive with maggots. I take you," answered Antonio; "that is a shallow conceit, Giovanozzo. It hardly needs an ell yard to plumb that."
"Nay, nay you are not at the bottom of it yet," replied the peasant; "it is alive and dead, and yet no maggots in it."
"Then the maggots are in thy brain," answered Antonio. "But speak plainly, man, speak plainly. If you keep hammering my head with enigmas, I shall have no brains left to understand your real meaning."
"Well, then, signor," said the contadino, gravely, "I want advice."
"And, like a wise man, come to me," replied his companion; "mine is the very shop to find it; I have plenty always on hand for my customers, never using any of it myself, and receiving it fresh daily from those who have it to spare. What sort of advice will you have, Giovanozzo? the advice interested or disinterested--the advice fraternal or paternal--the advice minatory, or monitory, or consolatory--the advice cynical or philosophical?"
"Nay, but this is a serious matter, signor," answered the contadino.
"Then you shall have serious advice," answered Antonio. "Proceed. Lay the case before me in such figures as may best suit its condition, and I will try and fit my advice thereunto as tight as a jerkin made by a tailor who loves cabbage more than may consist with the ease of his customers."
"Well, let us sit down on this bank," said Giovanozzo, "for it is a matter which requires much consideration and--"