“I am tired already, and will go.”
“’Tis he again,” cried Orsini; “’tis Gennaro who spoke. Gennaro, hear my new ballad.”
“Ah, ah.”
“Who dareth to laugh at me?”
“I, Gubetta, and the rest of us. Thou art an eminent poet, truly.”
“An insult, Signors.”
“If laughing is insulting thee, I do; ah, ah.”
“Roman bully!”
In a moment the place was in confusion. The women fled, the seats were overturned, and the Orsini and his enemy had armed themselves with knives from the table, for it was the wise custom to deliver arms at the door where feasts and rejoicings were held.