"Corpo di Bacco! Signor Andrea," exclaimed the other, stopping short at the foot of the ladder, and seizing his companion by a button, afraid he would desert him in the midst of a strange delusion, "you would not trifle in such a matter with an old friend; one who has known you from childhood? Fancy that I am alive!"
"Si--I have told you only the truth. The imagination is very strong, and may easily give the semblance of reality to unreal things."
"And that I am not a podestà, in fact, but one only in fancy!"
"Just so, friend Vito; and that I am only a vice-governatore, too, in the imagination."
"And that Elba is not a real island, or Porto Ferrajo a real town; and that even all our iron, of which we seem to send so much about the world, in good, wholesome ships, is only a sort of ghost of solid, substantial metal!"
"St, si--that everything which appears to be material is, in fact, imaginary; iron, gold, or flesh."
"And then I am not Vito Viti, but an impostor? What a rascally philosophy is this! Why, both of us are as bad as this Sir Smees, if what you say be true, vice-governatore--or make-believe vice-governatore."
"Not an impostor, friend Vito; for there is no real being of thy name, if thou art not he."
"Diavolo! A pretty theory this, which would teach the young people of Elba that there is no actual podestà in the island, but only a poor, miserable, sham one; no Vito Viti on earth. If they get to think this, God help the place, as to order and sobriety."
"I do not think, neighbor, that you fully understand the matter, which may be owing to a want of clearness on my part; but, as we are now on our way to visit an unfortunate prisoner, we may as well postpone the discussion to another time. There are many leisure moments on board a ship, to the language of which one is a stranger, that might be usefully and agreeably relieved by going into the subject more at large."