He showed his white teeth. 'I shot two once with this gun,' he said, producing it.
'But not here?' she said, startled.
'No—but beyond the mountains—over there—in Maremma.' He waved his hand vaguely towards the west. Then he shook his head. 'Bad country—bad people—in Maremma.'
'Oh yes, I know,' said Lucy, laughing. 'If there is anything bad here, you say it comes from Maremma. When our harness broke this afternoon our driver said, "Che vuole? It was made in Maremma!"—Tell me—who lives in that part of the convent—over there?'
And, turning back, she pointed to the distant window and the light.
The man spat upon the road without replying. After replenishing his pipe he said slowly: 'That, Signorina, is a forestiere, too.'
'A priest—isn't it?'
'A priest—and not a priest,' said the man after another pause.
Then he laughed, with the sudden insouciance of the Italian.
'A priest that doesn't say his Mass!—that's a queer sort of priest—isn't it?'