"Ten cents? Two lire fifty? Why, this is downright extortion!" declared the woman with the eyeglasses. She was vehement, too.
O'Mally gave vent to a perfect Italian shrug, and put a hand out suggestively toward the gates.
"Oh, come, dear," protested one of the men wearily; "you've dragged us up here from Fiesole and I'm not going back without seeing what's to be seen."
"That's like you men; always willing to be robbed rather than stand upon your rights. But I vow that you weak men will ruin travel by giving in all the time."
The man at whom this brief jeremiad was hurled painfully counted out two lire fifty, which was immediately transferred to the palm of the guide, who ushered the wayfarers in.
Solemnly Pietro watched them pass, wondering what the terms were. O'Mally led the party to the fountain.
"What's this?" asked the woman.
"This," O'Mally began, with a careless wave of the hand, "is the famed fountain by Donatello. It was originally owned by Catherine d'Medissy. The Borgias stole it from her, and Italy and France nearly came to war over it."
"The Borgias?" doubtfully. "Were these two families contemporaneous?"
"They were," scornfully. "These Borgias were not the head of the family, however. Finally it fell into the hands of the first Prince d' Monty Bianchy, and it has stood where you see it for three hundred years. It is considered the finest specimen of its kind. The Italian government has offered fabulous sums for it."