one's teeth.

The Parson esteemed it a little treat to drink tea with the Riccaboccas.
There was something of elegance and grace in that homely meal, at the
poor exile's table, which pleased the eye as well as taste. And the very
utensils, plain Wedgewood though they were, had a classical simplicity,
which made Mrs. Hazeldean's old India delf, and Mrs. Dale's best
Worcester china look tawdry and barbarous in comparison. For it was a
Flaxman who gave designs to Wedgewood, and the most truly refined of all
our manufactures in porcelain (if we do not look to the mere material)
is in the reach of the most thrifty.

The little banquet was at first rather a silent one; but Riccabocca
threw off his gloom, and became gay and animated. Then poor Mrs.
Riccabocca smiled, and pressed the _grissins_; and Violante, forgetting
all her stateliness, laughed and played tricks on the Parson, stealing
away his cup of warm tea when his head was turned, and substituting iced
cherry juice. Then the Parson got up and ran after Violante, making
angry faces, and Violante dodged beautifully, till the Parson, fairly
tired out, was too glad to cry "Peace," and come back to the cherry
juice. Thus time rolled on, till they heard afar the stroke of the
distant church clock, and Mr. Dale started up and cried, "But we shall
be too late for Leonard. Come, naughty little girl, get your father his
hat."

"And umbrella!" said Riccabocca, looking up at the cloudless moonlit
sky.

"Umbrella against the stars?" asked the Parson laughing.

"The stars are no friends of mine," said Riccabocca, "and one never
knows what may happen!"

The Philosopher and the Parson walked on amicably.

"You have done me good," said Riccabocca, "but I hope I am not always so
unreasonably melancholic as you seem to suspect. The evenings will
sometimes appear long, and dull too, to a man whose thoughts on the past
are almost his sole companions."

"Sole companions?--your child?"

"She is so young."

"Your wife?"

"She is so--," the bland Italian appeared to check some disparaging
adjective, and mildly added, "so good, I allow; but you must own that we
cannot have much in common."

"I own nothing of the sort. You have your house and your interests, your
happiness and your lives, in common. We men are so exacting, we expect
to find ideal nymphs and goddesses when we condescend to marry a mortal;
and if we did, our chickens would be boiled to rags, and our mutton come