“Well, what is one to say? For the last three years it’s clear there has been witchcraft in it. Just imagine it. I used to put aside four hundred pounds in a year, and now ... sometimes fifty, sometimes sixty.... And then, what stuff it is! Every bit worm-eaten! I beg your pardon, but will you come down into the granary with me? But, no—I hear my brother coming down; we’ll wait for him.”
“Let us wait for him, by all means.”
“He’s a queer sort of customer, you know—a confirmed grumbler!—but, after all, a good sort at bottom. The other day, for instance, do you see——he suffers so much from——”
These preliminaries to the introduction were interrupted by the appearance of Don Paolo himself, who entered the room with a profound bow. I rose, and was going to meet him, but he protested.
“No, no, I won’t have it—don’t disturb yourself, sir. If you will excuse me, I will keep my hat on, as that is my custom. Sit down, sit down, pray.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Sor Cosimo resumed the conversation.
“You see, Paolo, this is the gentleman whom we were speaking of——”
“I know! I know! Bless you! can’t you make an end of it? How many times do you find it necessary to repeat a thing?”
“No—I wanted to tell you——”
“Have you sent for refreshments?”