In a few moments a man appeared. He came from some place towards the further end of the valley, and he was no doubt one of those whom we had seen on this very square the day before. Signor Davelli spoke to the man. "You will meet this gentleman," he said, "here, to-morrow; his name is Mr. Wilbraham. Meet him at whatever hour he pleases, and show him whatever he wishes to see." Then he spoke a few words in the same strange language as before, and accompanied his words with the same sort of action.
Then he turned to me and said, "Will you meet me here at nine o'clock to-morrow, and I will take you to see what we are doing at the further end of the valley?"
I hesitated for a moment, and then I said, "Yes, I will meet you."
Whether my hesitation, or anything in my tone, indicated that I meant not to commit myself to more than to meet him, I cannot say, but as I spoke a scowl passed over his face. It came and went in a moment, and then he said, "Very well," rather curtly, to me. And then, addressing us both in the same gracious manner as before, "And now you are tired," he said, "and it is getting late; I hope you find your quarters convenient and your commissariat sufficient."