talk about her better?

"We will dine together, Pepe; we will go to the _Italianos_--a Roman
banquet, _ravioli_, _piccata_, anything you want and a bottle of Chianti
or two, as many as you can drink, and at the end sparkling Asti, better
than champagne. Does that suit you, old man?"

Arm in arm they walked along, their heads high, a smile on their lips,
like two young painters, eager to celebrate a recent sale with a
gluttonous relief from their misery.

Renovales went back into his memories and poured them out in a torrent.
He reminded Cotoner of a _trattoria_ in an alley in Rome, beyond the
statue of Pasquino, before you reach the Via Governo Vecchio, a chop
house of ecclesiastical quiet, run by the former cook of a cardinal. The
shelves of the establishment were always covered with the headgear of
the profession, priestly tiles. The merriment of the artists shocked the
sedate frugality of the habitues, priests of the Papal palace or
visitors who were in Rome scheming advancement; loud-mouthed lawyers in
dirty frock-coats from the nearby Palace of Justice, loaded with papers.

"What _maccheroni!_ Remember, Pepe? How poor Josephina liked it!"

They used to reach the _trattoria_ at night in a merry company--she on
his arm and around them the friends whose admiration for the promising
young painter attracted them to him. Josephina worshiped the mysteries
of the kitchen, the traditional secrets of the solemn table of the
princes of the Church, which had come down to the street, taking refuge
in that little room. On the white table cloth trembled the amber
reflection of the wine of Orvieto in decanters, a thick, yellow, golden
liquid, of clerical sweetness, a drink of old-time pontiffs, which
descended to the stomach like fire and more than once had mounted to
heads covered with the tiara.

On moonlit nights, they used to go from there and walk to the Colosseum
to look at the gigantic, monstrous ruin under the flood of blue light.
Josephina, shaking with nervous excitement, went down into the dark
tunnels, groping along among the fallen stones, till she was on the open
slope, facing the silent circle, which seemed to enclose the corpse of a
whole people. Looking around with anxiety, she thought of the terrible
beasts which had trod upon that sand. Suddenly came a frightful roar and
a black beast leaped forth from the deep vomitory. Josephina clung to
her husband, with a shriek of terror, and all laughed. It was Simps