ed yourself.

_Limonato._ I thank you for the praise, but I do beg of you not to call
me by this name of Limonato.

_Evarist._ I like that! Why, all know you by that name! You are famed by
the name of Limonato. All the world says, "Let us go to the village and
drink coffee at Limonato's." And that vexes you?

_Limonato._ Sir, it is not my name.

_Baron._ Eh, what! From to-day onwards I will call you Mr. Orange.

_Limonato._ I will not be the butt of all the world.

[Candida _laughs aloud._]

_Evarist._ What think you, Signorina Candida? [_He takes up a fan which_
Candida _has put down on the parapet of the terrace and fans himself,
replacing it._]

_Candida._ What should I think? Why, it makes one laugh.

_Geltrude._ Leave the poor creature in peace; he makes good coffee, and
is under my patronage.

_Baron._ Oh, if he is under the patronage of the Signora Geltrude, we
must respect him. [_Whispers to_ Evarist.] Do you hear? The good widow
protects him.

_Evarist._ [_Softly to the_ Baron.] Do not speak evil of the Signora
Geltrude. She is the wisest and most reputed lady in all the world.

_Baron._ [_As above._] As you like; but she has the same craze for
patronizing as the Count over there, who is reading with the very mien
of a judge.

_Evarist._ Oh, as regards him, you are not wrong. He is a very
caricature, but it would be unjust to compare him with the Signora
Geltrude.

_Baron._ For my part, I think them both ridiculous.

_Evarist._ And what do you find ridiculous in the lady?

_Baron._ Too much instruction, too much pride, too much self-sufficiency.

_Evarist._ Excuse me, then you do not know her.

_Baron._ I much prefer Signorina Candida.

[_After having carried on this talk in half tones, they both rise to
pay. Each protests to the other, the_ Baron _forestalls_ Evarist.
Limonato _returns to the shop with the cups and money._ Timoteo _pounds
yet louder._]

_Evarist._ Yes, it is true. The niece is an excellent person. [_Aside._]
I would not have him as a rival.

_Count._ Hi, Timoteo!

_Timoteo._ Who called me?

_Count._ When will you cease pounding?

_Timoteo._ Excuse me. [_Pounds on._]

_Count._ I cannot read, you crack my skull.

_Timoteo._ Excuse me, I shall have done directly.

[_Continues yet louder._]

_Crispino._ [_Laughs aloud as he works._] Hi, Coronato!

_Coronato._ What would you, Master Crispino?

_Crispino._ [_Beating hard on a sole he has in hand._] The Count d