I have it on now and she gave it to me. I cannot give it back because . . ."
"Never mind, don't bother, never mind," interrupted Don Rocco. "I'll give it to you."
"Then there were some glasses of wine, but I did n't drink them all myself. And then there is the silver snuff-box with the portrait of Pius Ninth."
"Body of Bacchus!" exclaimed Don Rocco, who thought he still had in his box that precious snuff-box given him by an old colleague. "That also?"
"I drank it; yes, sir, it took me fifteen days. Do not get excited, for we are in confession."
"What's that?"
It was a noise against the gate of the courtyard. A hard knock or a stone.
"It is evil-doers," said the Moro. "Rascally night-birds. Or perhaps some sick person. I'll go at once to find out."
"Yes, yes," said Don Rocco hastily.
"I will go and return to-morrow," continued the other, "for I see that you certainly do not care to confess me to-night."
He took out some matches and re-lighted the lamp, saying:
"Listen, Don Rocco, I want to be an honest man and work; but I must change my residence, and for the first few days how can I get along? You understand what I mean."
