"And that idea made YOU also hold your tongue, which is quite an unaccountable miracle in its way," laughed Luziano Salustri. "Have you never heard the pretty legend that attaches to such an occurrence as a sudden silence in the midst of high festivity? An angel enters, bestowing his benediction as he passes through."
"That story is more ancient than the church," said Chevalier Mancini. "It is an exploded theory--for we have ceased to believe in angels--we call them women instead."
"Bravo, mon vieux gaillard!" cried Captain de Hamal. "Your sentiments are the same as mine, with a very trifling difference. You believe women to be angels--I know them to be devils--mas il n'y agu'un pas entre es deux? We will not quarrel over a word--a votre sante, mon cher!"
And he drained his glass, nodding to Mancini, who followed his example.
"Perhaps," said the smooth, slow voice of Captain Freccia, "our silence was caused by the instinctive consciousness of something wrong with our party--a little inequality--which I dare say our noble host has not thought it worth while to mention."
Every head was turned in his direction. "What do you mean?" "What inequality?" "Explain yourself!" chorused several voices.
"Really it is a mere nothing," answered Freccia, lazily, as he surveyed with the admiring air of a gourmet the dainty portion of pheasant just placed before him. "I assure you, only the uneducated would care two scudi about such a circumstance. The excellent brothers Respetti are to blame--their absence to-night has caused--but why should I disturb your equanimity? I am not superstitious--ma, chi sa?--some of you may be."
"I see what you mean!" interrupted Salustri, quickly. "We are thirteen at table!"