nd remained
with her more than half an hour. The lady was determined to find out
where and how her grandson had spent the night. Pasotti had already
heard some rumours, which he now repeated, concerning a nocturnal visit
of Don Franco's to Casa Rigey; but more reliable and precise information
was desired. The cunning _Tartufo_, by nature as curious as a hound,
that goes about following every scent, poking his nose into every hole,
and rubbing it against every pair of trowsers, promised to furnish the
Marchesa with such information in the course of a day or two, and then
took himself off, his eyes sparkling, rubbing his hands in anticipation
of a pleasant chase.

FOOTNOTE:

[H] _Parpagliota_: a small coin then in circulation, and worth about
twenty centimes (?). [_Translator's note._]

CHAPTER V

THE ROGUE AT WORK

The next morning, Pasotti having imbibed his coffee and milk, lay
pondering the plan of the chase until half-past ten, when he summoned
Signora Barborin, who slept in another room because her snoring
disturbed the "Controller," as she respectfully called her husband. "He
is quite right," the poor deaf woman would say, "it is a terribly bad
habit, this snoring of mine!" She was older than Pasotti, whom she had
accepted as her second husband because her heart was very susceptible,
and to whom she had brought certain moneys which he had long coveted,
and was now enjoying. The Controller was fond of her in his own way; he
obliged her to make calls, to go on boating excursions, to take long
walks in the hills, all of which things were torments to her. He made
fun of her deafness, sent her out covered with silks and feathers, and
at home made her work like any drudge. In spite of all this she
respected and served him like a slave, in fear and trembling it is true,
but not without affection. When she did not call him "the Controller"
she called him "Pasotti," but she never allowed herself to use a more
familiar appellation.

Pasotti, with a face as stern as any satrap, ordered her by gestures to
go to the drawer for a white shirt, to the wardrobe for his second-best
suit, to a cupboard for a pair of boots. When his wife had prepared
everything, hunting anxiously here and there, continually facing about
to follow the eyes and gestures of the master who several times called
her a fool, when she would stare open-mouthed at him, striving to catch
the word she had only seen, Pasotti stuck his legs out of