"There's the bells again! They've let him off
pretty quick. I thought as much," added the old man, with a chuckle.
"Wasn't Signor Ercole's woman here with a lanthorn just now?" said
another of the bystanders, a young man, who, though wrapped to the
eyes in the universal all-levelling cloak, belonged evidently to a
superior class of society to the previous speakers.
"Si, Signor Conte, she is there in the kitchen. Per Dio! she would
have had no fingers to hold the light for her master, if she had
stayed out here," replied the ostler. And then the rattle of wheels
became distinct, and in the next instant the feeble light of a
couple of lamps became visible at the far end of the street, as the
coach turned out of the Piazza Maggiore into the Via del Monte, and
struggled forwards towards the knot at the inn door; it came at a
miserable little trot, but with an accompaniment of tremendous whip-
cracking, that awoke echoes in the silent streets far and near, and
imparted an impression of breathless speed to the imagination of the
bystanders, who, being Italians, accepted the symbol in despite of
their certain knowledge that the reality of the thing symbolised was
not there. Like the immortal Marchioness, Dick Swiveller's friend,
in the Old Curiosity Shop, the Italians, when the realities of
circumstances are unfavourable, can always manage to gild them a
little by "making believe very strong.
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