"Oho!" he cried. "So the family are away, are they?"

"Yes, Signorino."

"Aha!" cried he. "The family are away. That explains
everything. Have--have they been gone long?"

"Since a week, ten days, Signorino."

"A week! Ten days!" He started up, indignant. "You secretive
wretch! Why have you never breathed a word of this to me?"

Marietta looked rather frightened.

"I did not know it myself, Signorino," was her meek apology.
"I heard it in the village this morning, when the Signorino
sent me to buy coarse salt."

"Oh, I see." He sank back upon his rustic bench. "You are
forgiven." He extended his hand in sign of absolution. "Are
they ever coming back?"

"Naturally, Signorino."

"What makes you think so?"

"But they will naturally come back."

"I felicitate you upon your simple faith. When?"