doesn't bark, but--you understand?" She herself knew nothing
about it, had not heard anything, but if, for example, that lawyer and
the other gentleman had come for something else than music, and the
Commissary should find it out----! Then the Lord have mercy on us!

The moon was dragging its splendour across the lake towards the western
waters; the game had come to an end, and Signor Giacomo was preparing to
light his little lantern, in spite of Pasotti's remonstrances. "A light,
_Scior Zacomo_? You are mad! A light with such a moon!" "At your
service," Puttini replied. "In the first place there is that accursed
Pomodoro to cross, and then--_cossa vorla_--the moon nowadays! Besides I
must tell you it is the August moon, for although we are in September,
still the moon belongs to August. Well, once upon a time, my dear sirs,
August moons were fine and big, as large as the bottom of a cask at
least; now they are no better than moonlets, good-for-nothing
moons----no, no, no." And his lantern lighted, he departed with Pasotti,
the impertinent Pedraglio accompanying them as far as the gate of the
little garden, with his usual fire of antiphones about the bull and the
servant. Then the little man turned towards the cavernous streets of
Oria, greatly comforted by Pasotti's exclamations: "Ill-bred people,
_Scior Zacomo_! Vulgar people!" exclamations uttered in a tone
calculated to reach the others, and add to their amusement.

* * * * *

A loud gape from the engineer put Signora Peppina to flight. A few
minutes later, having drunk his cup of milk, Uncle Piero took leave of
the company in verse--

Tall laurel trees and myrtle sweet upon Parnassus grow,
May night upon you, worthy Sirs, great happiness bestow.

The two guests also asked for a little milk, but Franco, who understood
their Latin, went for an old bottle of the wine from the small but
excellent vineyard of Maine.

When he returned Uncle Piero was no longer present. The dark, bearded
lawyer, the picture of strength and placidity, raised both hands
silently, summoning Luisa and Franco, one to either side of him. Then he
said softly, in his voice like a violoncello, warm and deep--

"Great news!"

"Ah!" ejaculated Franco, opening his eager eyes wide. Luisa turned pale,
and clasped her hands in silence.

"Yes, indeed!" said Pedraglio calmly and seriously, "we have succeeded!"

"Speak out! Speak out!" Franco begged. The l