Presently back comes one of them to say he will go to six hundred pounds, but not a penny more. Then says a woman's voice, "Ah, Signore! Six hundred and fifty!" Then he, six hundred and twenty-five. And then some price between the two. And so we are agreed at last. And I am to be put in a box and sent to a place whose name I have never heard, that sounds like L'Ombra, a name that frightens me, for it sounds like the Inferno of the great poet, Dante.
But I should tell you that, before this riot, and noise, and disputation over me and my price, I had heard the unpacking and removal of the great stack of furniture that hid me. Only, as the persons who removed it have no interest for us, and did not seem from their conversation to be especially cultivated or intelligent, but rather the reverse, I have not said anything of them, nor of their valuations in lire of each article as it was brought to light. Their voices were the very first that I heard; but though their words sounded strange to me, they only made me think that maybe they were from Milan or Genoa or some other place in Italy. I should not have guessed them Tuscans; that is all. Indeed, I hardly distinguished much of what they said until they had removed the last of the furniture and I was turned round to the light. Then I saw things in a cloud, and heard indistinctly. I made out, however, that I was thick with dust, and must be brought out and cleaned before anyone could see what I was like. Then I was carried away down some stairs, and in the end I was aware, but dimly, as in a dream, that I was again in the great chamber where I last saw la Maddalena lying on the ground insensible, while the old Duke prodded at her with a stick. I could see there were many people in the room, talking volubly. But I could not catch their words well until a Signora, who seemed to take the lead, wiped my face over with a wet sponge; and then I heard more. Her voice was clearest, and what she said was "Ecco, Signori! Now you can see the ear quite plain. Ma com'e bella! Bella bella!"—And then it was I came to hear all the clamour of voices of a sudden.
Then follows all the bargaining I told you of. The Signora's husband would not sell an old picture—not he!—for a thousand pounds in gold; not till all the dirt was off and he could see it fairly. All applauded this, and said in chorus neither would they! Who could tell what might not be, under the dirt? However, they knew so little about it that they would not mind buying this one, on the chance. But for a decently reasonable price—say five thousand Italian lire. On which the owner said, "Come mai! E pochissimo!" Then the Signori Inglesi took another tone, and would have none of the picture, nor any picture, at any price! They would not know where to hang it. They did not like pictures on their walls. All the walls were covered with pictures already, all favourites, that must not be moved. But why need I tell you all this? You have heard folk make bargains, and the lies they tell.
The English Signori departed, having bought me for near six hundred and fifty English pounds. And then my lady and gentleman are mightily delighted, and dance about the room with joy. Now they will go to Monte Carlo and win back all they lost last year. Then I hear them talking in an undertone, thus:—
(He) "I hope they never suspected it was none of ours——"
(She) "Ah, Dio mio! And I had told them we were only inquilini"—that is, tenants.
(He) "Non ti confondi? Don't fret about that. They don't know what inquilini means. They can only say 'mangia bene, quanto costa!'"
(She) "Speriamo! But what a fine lot of old furniture! Couldn't we sell some of it, too?" And this young Signora, who was very pretty and impudent, and what I have since heard called svelte, danced about the room in high glee. But the good gentleman stopped her.
(He) "Troppo pericolo! The fat old Marchesa would find out. No, no! The picture is quite another thing——"
(She) "Perche?"