"Woman, show me the way out. I have not time to wait longer. I will return to-morrow, during the day."
"I hear Bufferio whistling in the street," she replied.
"He is even now placing the key in the door."
The stranger, as if perfectly satisfied with this intelligence, fell back in his chair, with a suppressed sigh, and listened in an agony of fear to the heavy footsteps on the staircase.
Bufferio appeared at the door, and looked distrustfully at the man who had interrupted him at his game.
The ruffian Bufferio was of giant build. He was obliged to stoop in order to enter the door. His head was thrown back defiantly, and his hand rested upon the hilt of a dagger which was held by his girdle. A broad-brimmed hat shaded his face; his whole dress was of dark-brown cloth, scarcely distinguishable in the darkness of night. Under his prominent eyebrows twinkled very small eyes, and a cruel, withering smile played about his mouth.
He made an imperious gesture to the woman and pointed to the door. She left the room grumbling, but gave no other evidence of dissatisfaction.
The ruffian shut the door, took a chair, and said to the stranger, in a rough and coarse voice:
"Perche me disturba? Why do you disturb me? Who are you?"
This question was very embarrassing to the stranger. He replied, stammering: