"I reflect--yes! I reflect that you ask a great deal of money, Signer
Carnesecchi," replied Marzio with some irritation.

"I never heard that anybody gave money unless it was asked for."

"It will not be for lack of asking if you do not get it," retorted the
artist.

"What do you mean, Signor Pandolfi?" inquired Carnesecchi, drawing
himself up to his full height and then striking his hollow chest with
his lean hand. "Do you mean that I am begging money of you? Do you mean
to insult an honest man, a _galantuomo_? By heaven, Signor Pandolfi, I
would have you know that Gasparo Carnesecchi never asked a favour of any
man! Do you understand? Let us speak clearly."

"Who has said anything?" asked Marzio. "Why do you heat yourself in this
way? And then, after all, we shall arrange this affair. You wish it. I
wish it. Why should it not be arranged? If five thousand does not suit
you, name a sum. We are Christians--we will doubtless arrange. But we
must talk. How much should you think, Sor Gasparo?"

"I have said it. As I told you just now, I have always said that I would
not marry with less than eighteen thousand francs of dowry. What is the
use of repeating? Words are not roasted chestnuts."

"Nor eighteen thousand francs either," answered the other. "Magari! I
wish they were. You should have them in a moment. But a franc is a
franc."

"I did not say it was a cabbage," observed Carnesecchi. "After all, why