“You mean of Lisbon,” corrected Peter.
“No,” insisted the old woman, with energy. “St. Anthony of Padua.”
“But he was born in Lisbon;” insisted Peter.
“No,” said Marietta.
“Yes,” said he, “parola d' onore. And, what's more to the purpose, he died in Lisbon. You clearly mean St. Anthony of Lisbon.”
“No!” Marietta raised her voice, for his speedier conviction. “There is no St. Anthony of Lisbon. St. Anthony of Padua.”
“What's the use of sticking to your guns in that obstinate fashion?” Peter complained. “It's mere pride of opinion. Don't you know that the ready concession of minor points is a part of the grace of life?”
“When you lose an object, you put up a candle to St. Anthony of Padua,” said Marietta, weary but resolved.
“Not unless you wish to recover the object,” contended Peter.
Marietta stared at him, blinking.