"Teutons--?" questioned Marietta wrinkling her brow.
"Yes--Germanic," said he.
"But I thought the Signorino was English?"
"So he is."
"But the cow is not Germanic. White, with black horns, that is
the purest Roman breed, Signorino."
"Fa niente," he instructed her. "Cows and Englishmen, and all
such sentimental cattle, including Germans, are Germanic.
Italians are Latin--with a touch of the Goth and Vandal. Lions
and tigers growl and fight because they're Mohammedans. Dogs
still bear without abuse the grand old name of Sycophant. Cats
are of the princely line of Persia, and worship fire, fish, and
flattery--as you may have noticed. Geese belong indifferently
to any race you like--they are cosmopolitans; and I've known
here and there a person who, without distinction of
nationality, was a duck. In fact, you're rather by way of
being a duck yourself: And now," he perorated, "never deny
again that I can talk nonsense with an aching heart."
"All the same," insisted Marietta, "it is very comical to see a
cow weep."
"At any rate," retorted Peter, "it is not in the least comical
to hear a hyaena laugh."
"I have never heard one," said she.
"Pray that you never may. The sound would make an old woman of
you. It's quite blood-curdling."
"Davvero?" said Marietta.
"Davvero," he assured her.
And meanwhile the cow stood there, with her head on his
shoulder, silently weeping, weeping.
He gave her a farewell rub along the nose.
"Good-bye," he said. "Your breath is like meadowsweet. So dry
your tears, and set your hopes upon the future. I 'll come and
see you again to-morrow, and I 'll bring you some nice coarse
salt. Good-bye."
But when he went to see her on the morrow, she was grazing
peacefully; and she ate the salt he brought her with heart-whole
bovine relish--putting out her soft white pad of a tongue,
licking it deliberately from his hand, savouring it tranquilly,
and crunching the bigger grains with ruminative enjoyment between
her teeth. So soon consoled! They were companions in misery no
longer. "I 'm afraid you are a Latin, after all," he said, and
left her with a sense of disappointment.
That afternoon Marietta asked, "Would you care to visit the
castle, Signorino?"
He was seated under his willow-tree, by the river, smoking
cigarettes--burning superfluous time.
Marietta pointed towards Ventirose.
"Why?" said he.
"The family are away. In the absence of the family, the public
are admitted, upon presentation of their cards."