“Nineteen, signor.”
“That means you were fourteen.... Now you may continue, Magnus.”
“Oh, my God!”
(It was Toppi who exclaimed.)
“Sit down, Maria.—As you see, Wondergood,”—began Magnus in a dry and calm tone, as if he were demonstrating not himself but some sort of a chemical compound—“this mistress of mine is quite an extraordinary phenomenon. With all her unusual resemblance to the Madonna, capable of deceiving men better versed than you or I in religion, with all her really unearthly beauty, chastity and charm—she is a licentious and quite shameless creature, ready to sell herself from head to foot....”
“Magnus!”
“Calm yourself. You see how she listens to me? Even your old Toppi is cringing and blushing while she—her gaze is clear and all her features are filled with placid harmony...did you notice how clear Maria’s gaze is? Do you hear me?”
“Yes, certainly.”
“Would you like wine or an orange? Take it. There it is on the table. Incidentally, observe her graceful walk: she seems to be always stepping lightly as if on flowers or clouds. What extraordinary beauty and litheness! As an old lover of hers, I may also add the following detail which you have not learned yet: she herself, her body, has the fragrance of some flowers. Now as to her spiritual qualities, as the psychologists put it. If I were to speak of them in ordinary language, I would say she was as stupid as a goose,—quite a hopeless fool. But she is cunning. And a liar. Very avaricious as regards money but she likes it only in gold. Everything she told you she learned from me, memorizing the more difficult lines...and I had quite a task in teaching her. But I feared all the time that, despite your love, you would be struck by her apparent lack of brains and that is why I kept her from you the last few days.”
Toppi sobbed: