Pasotti put this question with the skill of a great actor, with
affectionate but discreet interest, with no more curiosity than was
fitting, and with the intention of lubricating and softening somewhat
Gilardoni's closed heart, that it might open of itself, little by
little. But Gilardoni's heart, instead of spreading itself open at that
gentle touch, contracted and closed tighter than ever.

"I don't know," the Professor replied, feeling the colour mounting to
his face, and indeed he turned scarlet. In his mental note-book Pasotti
immediately made a note of the embarrassed manner, and of the heightened
colour. "He would be unwise to throw up the game. It is only natural
that the Marchesa should create difficulties for them, but after all,
she is a good creature, and devoted to him. Poor woman, what a fright
she had the other night!"

He glanced at the Professor who was frowning in uneasy silence, and
reflected: You will not speak? Then you know. "Just think of it! Not to
say where he was going! What do you think of that?"

"But I know nothing about it, I don't understand." Gilardoni exclaimed,
frowning more darkly still and growing ever more uneasy.

And now Pasotti, who was aware that the Professor had long since ceased
to visit the Rigeys, but was ignorant of the reason why, made a move
which was worthy only of a novice in roguery.

"You might enquire about it at Castello." said he, with a malicious
simper.

At this point Gilardoni, who was already boiling with rage, overflowed.

"Pray oblige me by dropping this subject," said he, angrily, "oblige me
by dropping it."

Pasotti grew sullen. Ceremonious, insinuating, and given to adulation
though he was, his pride would not allow him to suffer an unpleasant
word calmly, and he took offence at every shadow. He said no more, and
in a few minutes took his leave with dignified coolness, and retired
through the beets and the turnips, nursing his wrath. On reaching the
top of the Contrada dei Mal'ari, the _bargnif_ paused a moment to think,
resting his chin on his hand, then he started towards the shore of
Casarico, moving slowly, his head bent low, but with glistening eyes,
like the poodle that smells the hidden truffle in the air. Don
Giuseppe's frightened denials, Maria's obstinate denials, and the
Professor's embarrassment and outburst of temper, told him that a
truffle really existed, and that it must be a big one. He had thought of
going to Loggi where dwelt