"And very penniless," sneered Palladino.
"Ah, but his looks—they excuse a lot," the flower miss insisted softly.
"They do not pay bills. And they cause trouble," retorted the proprietor. As she flounced away, he watched the trim back of the half-grown girl. Palladino sighed, heavily, as fat, old men sigh. He had cherished ambitions in the flower-girl's direction for a while. But, alas! he was not young and handsome and bold.
"Ah, buona sera, signor," rumbled a voice at the proprietor's elbow. For such a large fellow, Palladino turned quickly. His face assumed for an instant the professional mask of benignant welcome. But he dropped it quickly as he recognized the owner of the voice.
The newcomer was a huge hulk of an Italian well past middle age, though trying hard to conceal the fact. He was much too ostentatiously clad in garments that fairly sobbed for the immediate attention of tailor and laundress. The purple cravat, for instance, though tied with extreme care, was stabbed with a diamond so immense that it could not possibly be real. The cravat was spotted with grease, and its borders were frayed. The accoster of Signor Palladino carried in his yellow-gloved hand a thick yellow cane, ornately carved and wore a slightly wilted carnation in his button-hole.
"Signor Minardi has doubtless come to pay his reckoning of last evening," suggested the proprietor in Italian and with evident sarcasm.
Victor Minardi coughed, to conceal confusion. He had expected a chilly reception. Last night there had been rather an unpleasant altercation between himself and Signor Palladino. Having returned but yesterday from a two months' business sojourn in Rome, Victor Minardi had assembled a few friends in the evening at the Café Del Mare and officiated at a welcome home reception. At the conclusion, very late, of the festivities he had been quite confused and loud. He had lacked sufficient liras to pay his reckoning. There had been words and threats, but he had escaped with the debt still unsettled.
"Perhaps I will very soon pay you what I owe—and more," offered Minardi. The blinking of his small, weak eyes was intended to be shrewdness.
Palladino shrugged his fat shoulders.
"If Count Rodrigo Torriani is here," Miniardi continued, "I will maybe tell you more quickly than you think. Tell me—is he here?"