“Your Reverence will say we are late in coming,” said Tonio, bowing, as did Gervaso, but more awkwardly.
“Certainly it is late—late in every way. Do you know that I am ill?”
“Oh! I am very sorry, sir!”
“You surely must have heard that I am ill, and don’t know when I can see any one.... But why have you brought that—that fellow with you?”
“Oh! just for company, like, sir!”
“Very good—now let us see.”
“There are twenty-five new berlinghe, sir—those with Saint Ambrose on horseback on them,” said Tonio, drawing a folded paper from his pocket.
“Let us see,” returned Abbondio, and taking the paper, he put on his spectacles, unfolded it, took out the silver pieces, turned them over and over, counted them, and found them correct.
“Now, your Reverence, will you kindly give me my Tecla’s necklace?”