“Si?”
Pasqualino made a grimace, as he nearly always did when he heard a rich Signore speak of working.
“And you? You have been spending money as usual. All your clothes are new.”
Pasqualino smiled, showing rows of splendid teeth under his little twisted-up mustache.
“Si, Signore, all! And I have also new underclothing.”
“Per Bacco!”
“Ecco, Signore!”
He pulled his trousers up to his knees, showing a pair of pale-blue drawers.
“The suspenders—they are new, Signore!” He drew attention to the scarlet elastics that kept the orange-and-black socks in place. “My boots!” He put his feet up on the box that Artois might see his lemon-colored boots, then unbuttoned and threw open his waistcoat. “My shirt is new! My cravat is new! Look at the pin!” He flourished his plump, brown, and carefully washed hands. “I have a new ring.” He bent his head. “My hat is new.”
Artois broke into a roar of laughter that seemed to do him good after his days of work.