Meanwhile, the old woman ground away with her toothless jaws, as if
she were actually chewing the end of her long nose. She made me sit
down, chucked me under the chin with her lean fingers, called me
"_poverino_," and leered at me so roguishly with her red eyes that one
corner of her mouth twitched half-way up her cheek as she at last left
the room with a low courtesy.
I sat down at the table, and a young, pretty girl came in to wait on
me. I made all sorts of gallant speeches to her, which she did not
understand, but watched me curiously while I applied myself to
the viands with evident enjoyment; they were delicious. When I had
finished and rose from table, she took a candle and conducted me to
another room, where were a sofa, a small mirror, and a magnificent bed
with green silk curtains. I inquired by signs whether I were to sleep
there. She nodded assent, but I could not undress while she stood
beside me as if she were rooted to the spot. At last I went and got a
large glass of wine from the table in the next room, drank it off, and
wished her "_Felicissima notte_!" for I had managed to learn that much
Italian. But while I was emptying the glass at a draught she suddenly
burst into a fit of suppressed giggling, grew very red, and went into
the next room, closing the door behind her. "What is there to laugh
at?" thought I in a puzzle. "I believe Italians are all crazy.
Pages:
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357