in that I can talk
nonsense with an aching heart."

"All the same," insisted Marietta, "it is very comical to see a cow
weep."

"At any rate," retorted Peter, "it is not in the least comical to hear a
hyaena laugh."

"I have never heard one," said she.

"Pray that you never may. The sound would make an old woman of you. It's
quite blood-curdling."

"Davvero?" said Marietta.

"Davvero," he assured her.

And meanwhile the cow stood there, with her head on his shoulder,
silently weeping, weeping.

He gave her a farewell rub along the nose.

"Good-bye," he said. "Your breath is like meadowsweet. So dry your
tears, and set your hopes upon the future. I 'll come and see you again
to-morrow, and I 'll bring you some nice coarse salt. Good-bye."

But when he went to see her on the morrow, she was grazing peacefully;
and she ate the salt he brought her with heart-whole bovine
relish--putting out her soft white pad of a tongue, licking it
deliberately from his hand, savouring it tranquilly, and crunching
the bigger grains with ruminative enjoyment between her teeth. So soon
consoled! They were companions in misery no longer. "I 'm afraid you
are a Latin, after all," he said, and left her with a sense of
disappointment.

That afternoon Marietta asked, "Would you care to visit the castle,
Signorino?"

He was seated under his willow-tree, by the river, smoking
cigarettes--burning superfluous time.

Marietta pointed towards Ventirose.

"Why?" said he.

"The family are away. In the absence of the family, the public are
admitted, upon presentation of their cards."

"Oho!" he cried. "So the family are away, are they?"

"Yes, Signorino."

"Aha!" cried he. "The family are away. That explains everything.
Have--have they been gone long?"

"Since a week, ten days, Signorino."

"A week! Ten days!" He started up, indignant. "You secretive wretch! Why
have you never breathed a word of this to me?"

Marietta looked rather frightened.

"I did not know it myself, Signorino," was her meek apology. "I heard
it in the village this morning, when the Signorino sent me to buy coarse
salt."

"Oh, I see." He sank back upon his rustic bench. "You are forgiven." He
extended his hand in sign of absolution. "Are they ever coming back?"

"Naturally, Signorino."

"What makes you think so?"

"But they will naturally come back."

"I felicitate you upon your simple faith. When?"

"Oh, fra poco. They have gone to Rome."

"