Ser. (shaking him by the hand). I thank you in the name of the family. To honour the noble dead is not only a work of merit—it is a duty: a duty which we are here to carry out.
Ger. I alone can do nothing.... Ah! Signor Serpilli!
Ser. Since common feelings of delicacy have assembled us in this spot, let us take steps for transferring to the public the conviction of the greatness of our loss. (Rings the bell.)
Pho. Poor Ettore!
Per. Poor, dear fellow!
Ger. My poor friend!
Ser. Well.... (After a pause, rubbing his hands.) We are all mortal.
C. Lotti.
THE SPIRIT OF CONTRADICTION.
Pandolfo. It is not to be tolerated! They do it on purpose to drive me out of my senses!