'In your own neighbourhood,' answered Parascandolo coldly.
'Of course, in my own neighbourhood.... It is political hatreds ... election struggles!' Colaneri and Trifari shouted in chorus.
'That may be,' said Parascandolo; 'I cannot know about that, and it does not matter to Sogliano. So there remains this worthy youth here, Rocco Galasso; he is solvent. So, instead of three thousand francs, Sogliano will give a thousand, with your three signatures as a precaution.'
'It is impossible for us to agree to that!' Trifari thundered, purple with rage.
'Impossible!' shrieked Colaneri, quite livid.
'As you like,' said Parascandolo, getting up to go out.
But the most dumfounded of the three was poor Rocco Galasso, the student. He turned his stupefied eyes from Colaneri to Trifari and gasped, as if his saliva choked him. The two left the office in confusion, without saying 'Good-bye,' talking to each other, and shoving the student before them like a silly sheep. Parascandolo quietly called Salvatore to brush his great-coat. It was done silently, while he filled his case with cigarettes.
All at once, without being announced, the three burst again into the room, looking queer: Colaneri and Trifari as if forcibly restraining their rage, and Rocco Galasso, pale and humiliated, behind them, like a beaten dog.
'We are to do the business,' Trifari muttered, as if he was swallowing the wrong way. 'One thousand francs, as you said.'