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"Tu senex lathro," says he, "quomodo audes me mendacem prædicare?" "Et, tu, sacrilege nebulo," says the Pope, "quomodo audacitatem habeas, me Dei in terris vicarium, lathronem conwiciari?" "Interroga circumcirca," says his Riv'rence. "Abi ex ædibus meis," says the Pope. "Abi tu in malam crucem," says his Riv'rence. "Excimnicabo te," says the Pope. "Diabolus curat," says his Riv'rence.
And then Carmelo sang, loud and clearly, the song he had been singing before, one of those artless Mediterranean ballads, full of caressing vowel-sounds, and young passion, and melancholy beauty: "M'ama ancor, belta fulgente, Come tu m'amasti allor; Ascoltar non dei gente, Solo interroga il tuo cor." ... "He sing-a nicee, mucha bueno!" murmured the fisherman.
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