"Go to thy room, Eugenio, most audacious!" panted Signora Lucretia, for he had raised his head, and, meeting his uncle's laughing gaze, had faintly smiled--"Go to thy room" (and here she struck him on the face), "and recite the Litany of the Blessed Virgin three times, and pray for thy uncle, that he may be converted."
Eugenio with flaming cheeks and ears rose submissively from the table, and without a word or look ascended to his room to do her bidding.
"What!" exclaimed Rugiero, rising from his seat, "would you dare to insult me by desiring my own nephew to pray for me? It seems to me that I dream! Per Bacco!"
Here my father observed that he must own he saw nothing very outrageous in what Rugiero had narrated, yet, as Signora Mortera had her own peculiar views on the matter, he considered that her brother was bound to respect them. Rugiero then admitted that he had been too hasty, and a reconciliation was effected, but he never met his nephew's eye thereafter without the same roguish smile, at which the poor youth would blush painfully and lower his gaze.
During this scene at the dinner-table Celestino breathed quickly, but never moved his eyes from the table-cloth, while Virginia looked at each one of the speakers in open-mouthed astonishment and curiosity.
One day I accompanied Signora Lucretia and her children to a Roman Catholic chapel in the neighborhood. I could not be unconscious of the odd and incongruous appearance of the two sons--Eugenio in a suit like that of a stage grandfather, snuff-colored, and with collar that raised the lobes of his ears; and dear little Celestino with a similarly cut coat in bottle green, with large gilt buttons, making him look like a man in miniature. Such had been the style pronounced by the village tailor to be in the height of Parisian fashion, but being a novelty to the London "gamins," it attracted more notice from them than we could have wished. After Signora Mortera and her children had attended the confessional she seemed to be much easier in her mind, and was so amiable as to tell my mother on our return home that it was edifying to behold the signorina walking like a Roman matron, in contrast to those who were giggling and turning their heads first one way and then the other, like so many pulcinelle. Notwithstanding this compliment, however, I perceived that she was uneasy concerning Eugenio and myself. It was evidently a satisfaction to her that I should load Celestino with caresses and endearing epithets, but that Eugenio should sit near me, speak to me, or even be in the same room with me (whether alone or in company), was the signal for demonstrations of the extremest vigilance. On one evening my cousin had brought home some gifts, consisting of a silver pencil-case with gold pen for Eugenio, a traveling writing-case with his name on it for Celestino, and a small traveling work-bag similarly marked for Virginia. These were highly appreciated. Celestino seemed unwilling to have his desk out of his sight for a single moment, and when his bed-time came wanted to take it up with him. His mother, unwilling to leave Eugenio in my society without her watchful presence, directed him to carry his brother up.