"Well, what to do?"
"I can certainly remain with you this whole month of August, perhaps also the first week of September."
"And after that?"
"After that you will permit me to return to Rome, and you will come and rejoin me there. There we will arrange concerning the future. I have already an idea in my head."
"What?"
"I will tell you. But just now let us dine. Aren't you hungry?"
The dinner was ready. As usual, in the loggia, the table was spread in the open air. They lit the large lamp.
"Look!" she cried, when the domestic had brought to the table the steaming soup tureen. "That is Candia's work."
She had asked Candia to make a rustic soup for him, after the manner of the country—a savory mixture, rich in ginger, colored, and odorous. She had already tasted it several times, attracted by its odor in the houses of the old people, and she had become greedy for it.
"It is delicious. You will enjoy it."