"The other one should be there too." said Jackeymo.
"To die—as this does already!" answered Riccabocca. "Say no more."
Jackeymo shrugged his shoulders; and then, glancing at his master, threw his hand over his eyes.
There was a pause. Jackeymo was the first to break it.
"But, whether here or there, beauty without money is the orange-tree without shelter. If a lad could be got cheap, I would hire the land, and trust for the crop to the Madonna."
"I think I know of such a lad," said Riccabocca, recovering himself, and with his sardonic smile once more lurking about the corner of his mouth—"a lad made for us!"
"Diavolo!"
"No, not the Diavolo! Friend, I have this day seen a boy who-refused sixpence!"
"Cosa stupenda!"—(Stupendous thing!) exclaimed Jackeymo, opening his eyes, and letting fall the watering-pot.
"It is true, my friend."