But let us return to our landlady, who had been impatiently awaiting me, having now prepared my noon-day meal some time.
"The signor is late to-day," she said, as I entered. "I fear he will find the macaroni cold."
"No matter," I replied. "I have a good appetite, from having been very busy all the morning."
"The signor has been busy—yes? And yet I notice that he left all his painting tools at home," observed the landlady.
"True, my good woman," I replied. "The morning being rainy, I was prevented from painting out-of-doors, but I have been very busy, nevertheless."
"Indeed, Signor," she exclaimed, "what could have occupied you so much as to forget your dinner, if I may be permitted to ask?"
I expected this question, knowing that my hostess inherited the vice of curiosity, in common with the rest of her sex, in a marked degree.
"How was I occupied?" I repeated. "Why, how else than by searching to the bottom that confounded miracle you were so full of all yesterday and the day before."
"Oh, Signor, how you talk!" exclaimed my hostess, horrified. "What! do you mean to say that the Blessed Virgin has not wrought among us the greatest miracle ever heard of in these parts?"
"Well, if this is one of the greatest," I replied, "I should advise her to give up miracles for the future, for she is no hand at them."