d Paolin, who played the Austrian from fear while the
mistress of the house was Austrian from conviction.

The Marchese, who in 1815 had broken his sword in two that he might not
be obliged to serve the Austrians, smiled saying quietly: "_La! C'est un
peu fort!_"

"But every one knows that the Ricevitore is a beast!" Franco exclaimed.

"I beg to differ with you, Don Franco," said Pasotti.

"Nonsense; beg to differ!" the other retorted. "He is a perfect beast!"

"He is a conscientious man," said the Marchesa, "an official who does
his duty."

"Then his masters are the beasts!" Franco exclaimed.

"My dear Franco!" drawled the emotionless voice, "I will not tolerate
such language in my house! Thank God we are not in Piedmont!" Pasotti
grinned his approval. Then Franco, lifting his plate with both hands
shivered it upon the table, with a furious blow. "Holy Mother!" gasped
Viscontini, and Paolon, interrupted in the laborious operations of a
toothless glutton, uttered an exclamation of alarm. "Yes, yes!" said
Franco, rising, his face distorted, "I had better go!" And he left the
room. Donna Eugenia at once turned faint, and had to be led away. All
the ladies, except Signora Pasotti, followed her out at one door, while
the footman entered at another, bearing a great risotto pie. Puria cast
a triumphant glance at Pasotti, but Pasotti pretended not to notice. All
had risen. Viscontini, the apparent culprit, kept repeating: "I can't
make it out! I can't make it out!" and Paolin, much vexed at seeing the
dinner thus interrupted, grumbled at him: "What business have you to try
to make anything out?" The Marchese was frowning fiercely, but kept
silent. At last Pasotti, the real culprit, assuming an air of
affectionate sadness, said, as if speaking to himself: "What a pity!
Poor Don Franco! A heart of gold, a good head, but such a disposition!
It is indeed unfortunate."

"Alas!" exclaimed Paolin, and Puria added despairingly: "Truly a great
misfortune!"

They waited and waited, but the ladies did not return. Then some one
moved. Paolin and Puria, their hands clasped behind them, walked slowly
towards the sideboard, lost in contemplation of the risotto pie. Puria
called sweetly to Pasotti, but Pasotti did not move. "I only wished to
observe," the big curate said, hiding his triumph so that it might or
might not be apparent, "I only wished to observe that there are white
truffles in it."

"I should say that black truffles[