May the earth open and swallow me
up! May the Madonna cause my mouth to fall off if I fail in my word. May----"

"There; that is enough," interrupted his friend. "Here are the three
pauls. Take them, and if you fail to pay me back in three days'
time--not one hour later, may all the curses that you have invoked upon
yourself be fulfilled." This was all I overheard of the dialogue. Shortly after this they must
have separated, as I heard soon the voice of the goatherd in the
distance, chanting in that wild strain, with a prolonged dwelling on the
last note peculiar to the peasantry in the Italian mountains. It was past midday when I rose from my mossy couch and sauntered
leisurely home, where, having partaken of a light lunch, I continued
working upon my picture--a large landscape--until sundown. I was at that
time the only guest at the inn, and I have no doubt that mine host and
his family made as much out of me as they could in one way or another,
yet they were as honest as the people in those parts mostly are, and
when not occupied with writing home I was in the habit of joining the
family circle after supper, when they entertained me with the gossip of
the village and stories of brigands, by whom the country was much
infested, while I, in return for their information, related to them many
things about my own country, my travels, etc. The conversation that I
had overheard that morning, however, between the goatherd and his friend
I deemed not of sufficient importance to relate to the family; in fact,
I had forgotten all about it before I reached the inn. The unscrupulous manner in which people cheated among these simple
seeming peasantry rather amused than annoyed me. And as for the simple
incident of one peasant borrowing three pauls from another, it was a
fact so uninteresting to me, that I never gave the matter a second
thought. Little did I imagine that the transaction of the three pauls that I by
chance overheard that morning was to be the commencement of one of the
drollest waggeries that ever came within my experience. It was more than a week after the incident that I have related occurred
that I left my inn one morning to paint out of doors at the distance of
a mile or so. As I journeyed along the road, laden with my painting
materials, I came in sight of the goatherd's hut, built upon a hill, and
though it was yet distant, I descried a figure in the act of leaving the
hut, but which I could distinctly see was not the goatherd. The figure had descended the hill, reached the road, and was then making
towards me. I had now no difficulty in recognising my friend of whom I
had bought the wine. He appeared to be anything but in good spirits, for
he advanced scratching his head and with his eyes fixed on the ground. This was our first meeting since our transaction of the barrel of wine,
and had I been in a less good humour I might have taxed him with
swindling me in good round terms, but with the fresh morning air in my
face and the enchanting landscape around me, I felt in no humour to
quarrel with anyone. I thought, however, I would make him aware that I
knew how he had served me without losing my temper. "_Buon giorno, Antonio_,"--(Good-day, Anthony)--I said, cheerfully. "_Ah! Eccellenza; buon giorno_," replied he, with a sickly attempt at a
smile. "You seem a little out of spirits, eh?" said I. "Now, what would you say
if I could read your thoughts?" "You read my thoughts, Eccellenza! You joke with me." "No," replied I; "without joking I will tell you what is passing in your
mind. You have just come from the house of Guiseppe the goatherd, and
you are disappointed because he has not paid you the three pauls that he
promised to pay you after three days. Am I right?" "_Per Bacco!_" exclaimed Antonio. "Surely your Excellency is a saint,
and it has been revealed to you. How else could you have known that?" "Does that surprise you," said I. "What would you say if I could tell
you more? If I could tell you the day and the hour that you lent the
three pauls to your friend? What would you say if I told you it was last
Tuesday week in the forenoon, and how you first hesitated to lend the
money, having some doubt as to your friend's integrity, but how, after
having invoked certain curses on his own head in default of his not
being able to pay, you at length yielded, and lent him the three pauls?" "_Diavolo!_ Eccellenza must be a saint indeed to know all that," cried
the peasant, dumbfounded. "Would you like to know more?" I asked. "At the expiration of the three
days you have been regularly every morning to the house of the goatherd,
expecting to receive the three pauls, and each time he has sent you
away with a different excuse." "_O anime sante mie del Purgatorio!_"[14] exclaimed the peasant,
crossing himself devoutly. "Either your Excellency is a saint, or you
have the demon within you." "Ha! say you so?" said I. "I will even venture to prophecy that you will
never get the three pauls." "Oh, pray don't say that, Signor. Pray don't say that I shall _never_ be
paid. Why should your Excellency think so?" asked the peasant, dismally. "Why! do you ask? Because the saints love you not," said I. "How, Signor? Was that also revealed to you? Why should they not love
me? How have I merited their wrath?" he asked, whiningly. "By charging me twice the sum you charge other people for that
_quarteruolo_ of wine, and for repenting afterwards that you had not
asked me four times the sum, as, being an Englishman, you thought to get
it out of me." "_Corpo di San Antonio di Padova!_"[15] cried the peasant, casting up
his eyes. "Is nothing to be hid from you? Well, Eccellenza, what serves
it to deny the truth, since you know everything? I am a poor man, and
when an opportunity occurs for bettering myself, I am apt to do what
most men do who know what want is." "Well, my friend," said I "you will find through life that 'honesty is
the best policy,' and that 'cheats never prosper,' at least, for long. For when the cheat is discovered, his reputation is lost for ever, while
the honest man who sticks steadily to his labour, and puts aside his
scanty earnings, not wasting them in drinking or gambling, in the end is
blessed by the saints who give him fortune." "That is most true," replied the peasant. "Eccellenza has spoken like
the preacher," and seizing my hand, he kissed it, and was about to
proceed on his journey. "Stay," said I. "Would you like to earn two pauls?" "Willingly, Eccellenza; but how?" he asked. "Help me to carry these traps to my camping place, and carry them back
again when I return this evening," said I. Without further parley he relieved me of my burden, and we both trudged
on together. At first we walked on in silence, but after the first half-mile, to
relieve the monotony of the walk, I began to question my companion as to
the reception his friend Guiseppe had given him and the excuses he had
made for not being able to pay his debt.