“Why so? I can’t do business that way, as I only dispose of my tickets for cash.”
“But you may be certain that you will have the money to-morrow.”
“I am quite sure I should, but you ought to be certain that you will have the tickets to-morrow. They are registered at my office, and I can dispose of them in no other manner.”
“Give me some which are not registered.”
“Impossible; I could not do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because if they proved to be winning numbers I should have to pay out of my own pocket an honour I do not desire.”
“Well, I think you might run the risk.”
“I think not, if I wish to remain an honest man, at all events.”
The abbé, who saw he could get nothing out of me, turned to Tiretta, and began to speak to him in bad Italian, and at last offered to introduce him to Madame de Lambertini, the widow of one of the Pope’s nephews. Her name, her relationship to the Pope, and the abbé’s spontaneous offer, made me curious to know more, so I said that my friend would accept his offer, and that I would have the honour to be of the party; whereupon we set out.