“I give twice that,” said Cicernachi, quickly.
The stranger started up hastily, blushing with annoyance. “Sir,” said he, “I take from no one a higher price than I gave.”
“Ah, signor, signor,” cried Montardo, “you have again forgotten that you are but a merchant. No merchant sells his goods for what he gave for them. Remember that.”
“I will make a good business with these fans,” said Cicernachi. “I give you twenty-four francs, and will ask fifty for them. The ladies of our nobility, many of whom are Prussiani, will be delighted to annoy their opponents in so elegant a manner. Are you content, sir?”
“I am satisfied,” said the stranger, blushing with embarrassment.
“Is this all you have for sale?”
“No, I have something else,” said the stranger, opening another package. “As you are Prussiano, these neat little coins and medals, with pretty caricatures of the enemies of the king on them, will no doubt please you.”
“Ah, let us see them,” cried both Italians. They examined with eagerness the medals upon which the enemies of Frederick were represented in various laughable situations and positions.
“I take them all!” cried Cicernachi, enraptured.
The stranger laughed. “I cannot sell you my whole business,” said he; “I must retain something. I will give you one of each. You must accept them as a token of my esteem, and must not pay me for them.”