'A noble heart too,' muttered Pantaleone; but Sanin glanced severely at him.... The old man shrank into the corner of the carriage. He was conscious of his fault; and moreover, he felt more and more bewildered every instant; could it really be he who was acting as second, who had got horses, and had made all arrangements, and had left his peaceful abode at six o'clock? Besides, his legs were stiff and aching.
Sanin thought it as well to cheer him up, and he chanced on the very thing, he hit on the right word.
'Where is your old spirit, Signor Cippatola? Where is il antico valor?'
Signor Cippatola drew himself up and scowled 'Il antico valor?' he boomed in a bass voice. 'Non è ancora spento (it's not all lost yet), il antico valor!'
He put himself in a dignified attitude, began talking of his career, of the opera, of the great tenor Garcia--and arrived at Hanau a hero.
After all, if you think of it, nothing is stronger in the world ... and weaker--than a word!