Angiolino made no answer to this intelligent remark.
“He is going to sleep again!” cried Goneril, stopping her lunch in despair. “He is going to sleep, and there are no end of things I want to know. Angiolino!”
“Si, signora,” murmured the boy.
“Tell me about Signor Graziano.”
“He is our padrone; he is never here.”
“But he is coming to-day. Wake up, wake up, Angiolino. I tell you, he is on the way!”
“Between life and death there are so many combinations,” drawled the boy, with Tuscan incredulity and sententiousness.
“Ah!” cried the girl, with a little shiver of impatience. “Is he young?”
“Che!”
“Is he old then?”