brute! But once again I was one too many for him. I collected large
quantities of stones in the day-time, and then at night with a skeleton
key I had acquired--it came out of Meneghino's bag which we always jeered
at--I let myself in and from the farthest sacks I abstracted potatoes and
refilled them with stones. I calculated that at the slow rate he used them
he would not notice his loss till March. What a scene there will be then,
_Misericordia_! During the last fortnight of our stay we lived almost
entirely on my potatoes. I don't know how the devil they would all have
got on without me. It is true that a waitress at the Panetteria Viennese
fell in love with Meneghino, and used to pass him on stale bread; but then
you all know his appetite! He ate it nearly all himself on the way home.
One day I sent Bonatelli out to reconnoitre. He returned with _one
mushroom_!" It would be quite impossible to convey an idea of the
intense contempt contained in these last words. It was a most eloquent
denunciation of impotence and irresolution.

"All the same we had a grand time in Lugano. And the week I and Migliassi
spent in prison was a great treat. Why, they treated us like popes, I can
tell you--as much food as you like, and the best quality at that; no work,
a comfortable cell, and a bed all to yourself! And the bread! I never
tasted anything like it in my life: they sent to Como for it all. Lugano
bread was not good enough. Ah, Swiss prisons are a grand institution, and
I hope to spend a happy old age in such a place yet.

"Then came Bonafede's manifesto, and that scoundrel Costanzi betrayed us
all to the police. Then the real trouble began. We had not ten francs
among the lot of us, and we twelve had orders to clear out of the country
within forty-eight hours! Once again they were all at a loss but for me!"
and here he tapped his forehead in token of deference to his superior
wits. "I had noticed the fat letters Mori received from home the first day