My fingers found only a tangle of dry fern, and glancing up at the ridge, I stared straight along the barrel of a musket. At the same moment a second barrel glimmered out between the bushes on my left. "Signore, favorisca di rendersi," said a voice, very quiet and polite.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Don Paolo mio," he said, supposing the priest had brought a customer "very sorry; there is not a bed in the house." "That is no matter, Giacchino," answered the curate. "We want to see Sor Giovanni for a moment." The man disappeared, and a moment later Sor Giovanni himself came down the passage. "Favorisca, dear Don Paolo, come in."
She had forgotten that he was so ugly, she thought, or perhaps she would not have cared to see him. It would have been foolish, moreover, to go away after coming thus far. "I want to see the library," she said quietly, after she had made up her mind. "Will you show it to me?" "Favorisca, Excellency," replied Meschini in a broken voice.
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