“Well, then,” said the bravo, in an undertone, but with an impressive air of command, “this marriage is not to take place, either to-morrow, or at any other time.”
“But, gentlemen,” expostulated Don Abbondio, in the meek and gentle voice of a man trying to persuade an impatient listener—“but, gentlemen, do be good enough to put yourselves in my place. If the thing depended on me, now ... you see perfectly well that it matters nothing to me, one way or the other.”
“Come!” interrupted the bravo; “if the business had to be settled by talk, you would have us all, in a moment. We know nothing more about it, and do not want to. A man warned ... you understand?”
“But, gentlemen, you are too just, too reasonable——”
“But,” interrupted the second bravo, who now spoke for the first time—“but either the marriage will not take place, or—or the man who performs it will not repent of doing so, because he will not have time, and——” he finished off his sentence with a good round oath.
“Hush!” returned the first speaker; “his Reverence knows the ways of the world; and we are gentlemen, and do not want to do him any harm, if he will only have a little common sense. Your Reverence, the most illustrious Signor Don Rodrigo, our master, sends you his most respectful salutations.”
This name was like a flash of light in the darkness and confusion of Don Abbondio’s mind, but only served to increase his terror. He instinctively made a low bow, and said, “If you could suggest to me....”
“Oh! Suggest to you who know Latin!” interrupted the bravo, with a laugh which was half ferocious and half foolish. “That is your business. And, above all, never let a word escape you about this hint which we have given you for your good; otherwise ... ahem!... it would be the same thing as if you were to perform that marriage. Come! What message do you wish us to give to the illustrious Don Rodrigo?”
“My respects.”
“Explain yourself, your Reverence!”