d protesting,
opened her eyes extremely wide, and said in that voice of hers which
seemed to come from the cellar:

"Where?"

The Controller's only answer was a fulminating glance and a gesture:
"march!" He did not intend to give any further information.

Signora Barborin struggled a little longer.

"I have not breakfasted yet," she said.

Her husband took her by the shoulders, drew her towards him, and shouted
into her face:

"You will breakfast later."

Only at Albogasio Inferiore, in front of the Annunziata, did he inform
her, by pointing to the place with his stick, that they were going to
Cadate, to that old manor-house planted in the lake between Casarico and
Albogasio, and generally known as "the Palace," where there lived, all
alone, in the small rooms of the upper story, the priest, Don Giuseppe
Costabarbieri and his servant Maria, called "Maria of the Palace."
Pasotti knowing well that both were eager listeners, but extremely
cautious in talking, wished to examine them one at a time, without
seeming to do so, and, if he found any soft spot, he intended to press
it very gently. He had brought his wife with him that she might help him
in this delicate matter of taking them one at a time, and she, poor
innocent, trotted on behind him with short, quick steps, and followed
him down the flight of one hundred and twenty-nine steps called the
"Calcinera," never suspecting the perfidious part she was to act.

The lake was like oil, and Don Giuseppe, a fine, pursy priest, short and
fat, with white hair, a ruddy complexion and small glistening eyes, was
seated near the fig-tree in his garden, with a black straw hat on his
head, and a white handkerchief round his neck, angling for carp, certain
big, fat carp, grown old and wary, that might be seen moving about very
slowly under the water, all for love of the figs, and that were as
inquisitive and, at the same time, as cautious as the priest and his
servant. This latter was not visible. Pasotti finding the street-door
open, went in, calling out for Don Giuseppe and Maria. As no one
answered he planted his wife in a chair and went down into the garden,
making straight for the fig-tree, where Don Giuseppe was sitting, who,
on catching sight of him, went into a fit of ceremonious convulsions. He
threw down his fishing-rod and went towards Pasotti vociferating: "Oh,
Lord! Oh, Lord! Oh, dear me! In this state! My dear Controller! Come
up-stairs! Come up-stairs! My dea