"No, no, no!" said Calabressa, loftily; as if he had never entertained such a possibility. "Do you think the Council is to be played with—is to be bribed by so many and so many lire? No, no. Its decree is inviolable."
"Well, then?"
"Well, then, some stupidities of our Russian friend have saved you: they know everything, these wonderful people: they say, 'No; we will not trust the affair to a madman.' Do you perceive? What you have to do now is to take Kirski back to England."
"And I am not wanted any longer?" said the other, with the same eagerness.
"I presume not. I am. I remain in Naples. For you,
you are free. Away to England! I give you my blessing; and to-night—to-night you will give me a bottle of wine."
But presently he added, as they still walked on,
"Friend Edouarts, do you think I should be humiliated because my little plan has been refused? No: it was born of idleness. My freedom was new to me; over in England I had nothing to do. And when Lind objected, I talked him over. Peste, if those fellows of Society had not got at the Russian, all might have been well."
"You will forgive my pointing out," said Edwards, in quite a facetious way, "that all would not have been so well with me, for one. I am very glad to be able to wash my hands of it. You shall have not only one but two bottles of wine with supper, if you please."
"Well, friend Edouarts. I bring you the good news, but I am not the author of it. No; I must confess, I would rather have had my plan carried out. But what matter? One does one's best from time to time—the hours go by—at the end comes sleep, and no one can torment you more."