ge
Barborin had brought; still, at that moment he felt that the little
police-spy harboured treachery in his heart.

"In danger of what? Of Mantua!" was Zerboli's reply.

Franco did not flinch upon hearing the awful word, synonym of
incarceration and the gibbet.

"I need not fear Mantua," said he. "I have done nothing to deserve
Mantua."

"Nevertheless----!"

"Of what am I accused?" Franco repeated.

"You will soon find out if you remain here," the Commissary replied,
laying stress upon the last words. "And now let us examine these
dahlias."

"I have done nothing!" Franco once more repeated. "I will not leave."

"Let us see these dahlias, let us see these dahlias," the Commissary
insisted.

Franco felt that he should thank this man, but he could not. He showed
him his flowers with just that amount of civility that was
indispensable, and with perfect composure. Then he conducted him from
the kitchen-garden to the house, talking of some obscure Professor
Maspero, and of his secret method of combating _oidium_.

In the hall they were discussing another and far worse form of _oidium_.
Signora Peppina was harassed by a terrible fear of cholera. She
recognised that cholera served as a warning to every good Christian to
make his peace with God, and that when we are at peace with God, it is
indeed a blessing to be called to the next world, "but still, this body
of ours, you know! This precious body! And when you reflect that we have
only one!"

"The cholera," said Luisa, "might do no end of good, if it had any
sense, but it has not. You see," she whispered to Signora Peppina as
Bianconi rose and went towards the Commissary, who had returned with
Franco, "the cholera is quite capable of taking you, and leaving your
husband." At this extraordinary remark the terrified Peppina started
violently, exclaiming: "_Jesusmaria!_" and then, perceiving she had
betrayed her true feelings, that she had not exhibited that tenderness
for Carlascia of which she was always prating, she clutched her
neighbour's knee, and bending forward, said in an undertone, her face as
red as a poppy: "Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet!"

But Luisa was no longer thinking of her. A glance from Franco had warned
her that something had happened.

* * * * *

When all the visitors had departed, Uncle Piero sat down to read the
_Milan Gazette_, and Luisa said to her husband: "It is three o'clock.
Let us go and wake Maria.