"Yes, it is cold," answered Don Rocco, infusing a forced benevolence into his tones; "it is damp."
And he put his lantern down on the table.
"Come here," said his companion. "Wait till I make you comfortable." He got a chair and placed it on the hearthstone near his own.
"There now," said he.
Meanwhile Don Rocco was getting his breath again, and carrying on, with a terrible knitting of his brows, most weighty reflections.
"Thanks," he answered, "I will go to put away my cloak and come back at once."
"Lay your cloak down here," replied the Moro, not without some haste and a new tone of imperiousness not at all pleasing to Don Rocco.
He silently placed his cloak and hat on the table and sat down under the chimney-cap beside his host.
"You will excuse me if I have made a little fire," he continued. "I have been here at least a half-hour. I thought you were at home studying. Isn't to-day Saturday? And are you not obliged to say to-morrow morning the few customary absurdities to the peasants?"
"You mean the exposition of the Gospel," answered Don Rocco with warmth, for on that ground he knew no fear.