wine into the glass and scattered them upon the brick floor according
to the ancient custom, both for rinsing the glass and as a libation, and
then offered to fill the glasses of each of the two men, who smiled,
shook their heads, and covered their tumblers with their right hands. At
last Dalrymple helped himself, nodded politely to his companions, and
slowly emptied the glass which held almost all the contents of the
little flask. The 'foglietta,' or 'leaflet' of wine, is said to have
been so called from the twisted and rolled vine leaf which generally
serves it for a stopper. A whole 'foglietta' contained a scant pint.

"Will you eat now?" asked Annetta, still smiling.

"Presently," answered Dalrymple. "What is there to eat? I am hungry."

"It seems that you have to say so!" laughed the girl. "It is a new
thing. There is beefsteak or mutton, if you wish to know. And ham--a
fresh ham cut to-day. It is one of the Grape-eater's, and it seems good.
You remember, Sor Tommaso, the--speaking with respect to your face--the
pig we called the Grape-eater last year? Speaking with respect, he was a
good pig. It is one of his hams that we have cut. There is also salad,
and fresh bread, which you like. And wine, I will not speak of it. Eh,
he likes wine, the Englishman! He comes in with a long, long face--and
when he goes to bed, his face is wide, wide. That is the wine. But then,
it does nothing else to him. It only changes his face. When I look at
him, I seem to see the moon waxing."

"You talk too much," said Stefanone.

"Never mind, papa! Words are not pennies. The more one wastes, the more
one has!"

Dalrymple said nothing; but he smiled as she turned lightly with a toss
of her small dark head and left the room.

"Fine blood," observed the doctor, with a conciliatory glance at the
girl's father.

"You will be wanted before long, Sor Tommaso," said Dalrymple, gravely.
"I hear that the abbess is very ill."

The doctor looked up with sudden interest, and put on his professional
expression.

"The abbess, you say? Dear me! She is not young! What has she? Who told
you, Sor Angoscia?"

Now, 'Sor Angoscia' signifies in English 'Sir Anguish,' but the doctor
in spite of really conscientious efforts could not get nearer to the
pronunciation of Angus. Nevertheless, with northern persistency,
Dalrymple corrected him for the hundredth time. The doctor's first
attempt had resulted in his calling the Scotchman 'Sor Langusta,' wh