“Oh, do not let us have any nonsense,” said he to her. “Do you wish to make me lose the thousand francs of the wager?”
“What thousand francs? Nonsense, say no more about it, Signor Biagio.”
“What?” said the latter. “Did we not come to an agreement yesterday evening? Have you repented? You are then no longer afraid of Cocco Bertolli? You will see that he will seriously wish to marry you then.”
And once more he began to discuss the terms of the bargain, and dilate upon the reciprocal advantages of this marriage, at once serious and burlesque. “We, Carolinona, should not ascribe any importance to this our marriage, is it not so? and therefore for us it is not a serious affair.”
“Now, perhaps not,” remarked Signora Pentoni. “But what if later you repent it?”
“But undoubtedly I shall repent it!” admitted Biagio. “And just when I repent it I shall feel the advantage of it. Do you understand? That is why I am taking this step.”
“You understand then?” said Pentoni in conclusion. “If I offer opposition it certainly is not for myself. What have I to lose by it? I have everything to gain and nothing to lose. While you—”
“Do not think of me,” said Biagio Speranza, cutting short the discussion. “I know what I am doing. Come, let us get on, Scossi, it is getting late. But come then, answer, Carolinona: Name (I know that), paternity—age—place of birth—state; maid, widow, nothing; it is not necessary to tell the truth on this point. But the age, yes, be accurate; I beg of you.”
“Thirty-five,” replied Carolinona.
“There now!” exclaimed Biagio, shrugging his shoulders. “Do not begin at once!”