Joe gave his head a barely perceptible disparaging toss and said: “Et for both. It ain't anything I'd 'a' done it.”
“Hush, if you haven't got any better manners than that. You don't see the point at all. It wasn't good food.”
“I don't care—it was food, and I'd 'a' et it if it was rotten.”
“Shame! Such language! Can't you understand? They were starving—actually starving—and he ate for both, and—”
“Shucks! you gimme a chance and I'll—”
“There, now—close your head! and don't you open it again till you're asked.”
[Angelo goes on and tells how his parents the Count and Countess had
to fly from Florence for political reasons, and died poor in Berlin
bereft of their great property by confiscation; and how he and Luigi
had to travel with a freak-show during two years and suffer
semi-starvation.]
“That hateful black-bread; but I seldom ate anything during that time; that was poor Luigi's affair—”
“I'll never Mister him again!” cried the widow, with strong emotion, “he's Luigi to me, from this out!”
“Thank you a thousand times, madam, a thousand times! though in truth I don't deserve it.”