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He is deceived! He will search all night till he
is tired! Ah--ah--ah! That is good! And now back to the island--quick!
--before he finds out!"--He thrust out his arm towards Artois.--"And
that is my friend!" he exclaimed. "He who calls himself the friend of
the little wicked Isidoro. P--!"--He turned his head and spat on to
the balcony.--"Gran Dio! And this white-haired Babbo! He steals into
the Galleria at night to meet Maria Fortunata! He puts a girl of the
town to live with the Signorina upon the island, to teach her--"
"Stop!" said Artois.
"I will not stop!" said the Marchesino, furiously. "To teach the
Signorina all the--"
Artois lifted his hand.
"Do you want me to strike you on the mouth?" he said.
"Strike me!"
Artois looked at him with a steadiness that seemed to pierce.
"Then--take care, Panacci. You are losing your head."
"And you have lost yours!" cried the Marchesino. "You, with your white
hairs, you are mad. You are mad about the 'child.' You play papa, and
all the time you are mad, and you think nobody sees it.


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