im. Five pounds English, or a hundred and
twenty-six pounds Milanese![28] Santa Maria! Unnatural Father! And what
is to become of the poor Signorina? Is this the way you are to marry her
in the foreign land?"

"Giacomo," said Riccabocca, bowing his head to the storm, "the Signorina
to-morrow; to-day, the honor of the house. Thy small-clothes, Giacomo.
Miserable man, thy small-clothes!"

"It is just," said Jackeymo, recovering himself, and with humility; "and
the Padrone does right to blame me, but not in so cruel a way. It is
just--the Padrone lodges and boards me, and gives me handsome wages, and
he has a right to expect that I should not go in this figure."

"For the board and the lodgment, good," said Riccabocca. "For the
handsome wages, they are the visions of thy fancy!"

"They are no such thing," said Jackeymo, "they are only in arrear. As if
the Padrone could not pay them some day or other--as if I was demeaning
myself by serving a master who did not intend to pay his servants! And
can't I wait? Have I not my savings, too? But be cheered, be cheered;
you shall be contented with me. I have two beautiful suits still. I was
arranging them when you rang for me. You shall see, you shall see."

And Jackeymo hurried from the room, hurried back into his own chamber,
unlocked a little trunk which he kept at his bed head, tossed out a
variety of small articles, and from the deepest depth extracted a
leathern purse. He emptied the contents on the bed. They were chiefly
Italian coins, some five-franc pieces, a silver medallion inclosing a
little image of his patron saint--San Giacomo--one solid English guinea,
and two or three pounds' worth in English silver. Jackeymo put back the
foreign coins, saying prudently, "One will lose on them here;" he seized
the English coins and counted them out. "But are you enough, you
rascals?" quoth he angrily, giving them a good shake. His eye caught
sight of the medallion--he paused; and after eyeing the tiny
representation of the saint with great deliberation, he added, in a
sentence which he must have picked up from the proverbial aphorisms of
his master:

"What's the difference between the enemy who does not hurt me, and the
friend who does not serve me? _Monsignore San Giacomo_, my patron saint,
you are of very little use to me in the leathern bag. But if you help me
to get into a new pair of small-clothes on this important occasion, you
will be a friend indeed. _Alla bisogna, Mon