A very subdued murmur arose in the bows and Attilio muttered, "Pietro would not talk to a dead man."
"He is extremely feeble," said Cosmo.
It appeared on Attilio's enquiry that this encumbrance as he called him was just strong enough to be helped over the thwarts. Presently, sustained under the elbows, he joined Cosmo in the stem sheets, where they made him sit between them. He let his big hands lie in his lap. From time to time he shivered patiently.
"That wretch Barbone knows no pity," observed Cosmo.
"I suppose he was the nearest he could get. What tyranny! The helpless are at the mercy of those fellows. He saved himself the trouble of going three doors farther."
They both looked at the ancient frame that age had not shrivelled.
"A fine man once," said Attilio in a low voice. "Can you hear me, vecchio?"
"Si, and see you too, but I don't know your voice," was the answer in a voice stronger than either of them expected, but betraying no sort of interest.
"They will certainly throw him into prison." And to Cosmo's indignant exclamation Attilio pointed out that the old man would be the only person they would be able to get hold of and he would have to pay for all the rest.
Cosmo expressed the opinion that he would not stay there long.