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But he had not thought of him as a libertine. Yet that was what
he certainly was. The interview with Maria Fortunata in the alley
beyond the Via Roma had quite convinced the Marchesino. He had no
objection whatever to loose conduct, but he had a contempt for
hypocrisy which was strong and genuine. He had trusted Emilio. Now he
distrusted him, and was ready to see subtlety, deceit, and guile in
all his undertakings.
Emilio had been trying to play with him. Emilio looked upon him as a
boy who knew nothing of the world. The difference in their respective
ages, so long ignored by him, now glared perpetually upon the
Marchesino, even roused within him a certain condemnatory something
that was almost akin to moral sense, a rare enough bird in Naples. He
said to himself that Emilio was a wicked old man, "un vecchio
briccone." The delights of sin were the prerogative of youth. Abruptly
this illuminating fact swam, like a new comet, within the ken of the
Marchesino. He towered towards the heights of virtuous indignation.


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