"I shall be very glad to talk with you, signor; I have time enough, for yours is the last business I shall do to-night."
"And it will not be the most profitable for you, I warn you, Giovanni; for I am not in the mood to give up my purse to you; it is too well filled for that!"
The robber's only reply was a satirical laugh.
Léodgard de Marvejols had found a stone, on which he seated himself; Giovanni remained standing with arms folded, and the conversation began.
"Why did you leave your beautiful Italy to come to France? Would you not be more at ease in the vast plains that surround Rome, or on the slopes of the Pausilippo, or lying lazily beside the blue sea that bathes the feet of Naples, than in this dark and filthy street, beneath this gray sky, in this cold mist which chills us to the bone as it clings to our garments?"
"The sky of Italy is beautiful, signor, but love of change lies deep in the heart of man."
"That is true; I grant you that. Moreover, since the days of Queen Catherine de' Medici, of sinister memory, it seems that all Italians have agreed to meet in Paris. We see your compatriots everywhere—at court, in the city, in exalted positions, in the finances. The Italians have brought us poisons,—with the way to make use of them,—the art of telling fortunes by cards, of reading the stars, of learning the future.—I try in vain to think what they have given us in exchange for all this——"
"Music, signor."
"Ah! to be sure: music! They do, in fact, sing better than we do; but, frankly, I do not think that that makes the balance even. I should have supposed that Concini's tragic end would have allayed to some extent the ardor of your compatriots for living in Paris. But I see that it is not so, and that we have not yet seen the last of the Italians."
"One finds much to entertain one in France, signor."