"It smells of sulphur, animal," he cried, throwing it in the grate.
The culprit hastened to repair his mistake; lighting another match he let it burn for a time before offering it to his master. But Garofoli would not accept it.
"No, you imbecile," he said, pushing the boy aside roughly. Then he turned to another child and said with an ingratiating smile:
"Ricardo, dearie, bring a match."
The "dearie" hastened to obey.
"Now," said Garofoli, when he was comfortably installed and his pipe burning; "now to business, my little angels. Bring the book, Mattia."
Garofoli made a sign to the boy who had lit the first match.
"You owe me a sou from yesterday; you promised to bring it to-day. How much have you brought?"
The child hesitated for a long time, his face showing distress, "I'm one sou short," he said at last.
"Ah, you're one sou short."