He burst out laughing. "I expected as much," he cried; "I had my notions!"
"What did you expect?"
"That the Signer Conte would begin and say his prayers to her."
"Good heavens! Is the case so common? Why did you expect it?"
"On the contrary, the case is rare. But I've fumbled so long in the monstrous heritage of antiquity, that I have learned a multitude of secrets; learned that ancient relics may work modern miracles. There's a pagan element in all of us,—I don't speak for you, illustrissimi forestieri,—and the old gods have still their worshippers. The old spirit still throbs here and there, and the Signer Conte has his share of it. He's a good fellow, but, between ourselves, he's an impossible Christian!" And this singular personage resumed his impertinent hilarity.
"If your previsions were so distinct," I said, "you ought to have given me a hint of them. I should have sent your spadesmen walking."
"Ah, but the Juno is so beautiful!"
"Her beauty be blasted! Can you tell me what has become of the Contessa's? To rival the Juno, she's turning to marble herself."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, but the Juno is worth fifty thousand scudi!"
