"Well, Eccellenza," he began, "you, who know everything, are well aware
that I called at Peppe's house at the time appointed for the payment of
the debt, and that not being able to pay me, he excused himself by
saying that the goats had given so little milk, that he could not fulfil
his promise as he expected, but he promised faithfully to repay me on
the morrow. I called the next day, when he begged me to be patient with
him, as he had lost the money through a hole in his pocket. I was
annoyed at this, but called again on the morrow, hoping at least to get
a portion of the money back; but no such luck. This time he pleaded that
his wife had been suddenly seized with the fever, and begged me not to
be too hard upon him. "'Then take care that she is better to-morrow,' said I, 'for I want my
money.' "The next day (that was yesterday) I called again, and his wife informed
me that her husband had caught the fever, and was dangerously ill. She
hoped, however, that it would soon pass over, and he would be able to
pay me as he had promised. I went again this morning to Peppe's house as
usual for the money, when his wife came out to me with tears in her
eyes, to inform me that her husband died last night. I began to lose
patience, and said that, dead or alive, I meant to have my three pauls
back; and off I went, cursing and swearing. It was then that your
Excellency met me." As Antonio finished speaking we had already arrived at our camping
place, and I commenced arranging my painting materials. The latter part
of Antonio's narrative immensely amused me, as I had both seen and
spoken to Peppe that morning early when he brought the milk as usual to
the door of the inn, and he never looked in better health in his life. I remember upbraiding him for putting water in the milk, and telling him
not to try on his tricks with me, as Englishmen knew what good milk was,
adding that if I caught him at it again, I should change my goatherd. I
suppose something like a smile must have passed over my countenance at
the idea of Peppe pretending to be dead, in order to get off paying
three pauls, for Antonio, eyeing me narrowly, said,

"What say you, Eccellenza? You know everything. Tell me if Peppe is
really dead, or whether this is also a pretence." I put on a wise look, and said, looking him full in the face, "I know
him to be alive." "Ha! say you so, Eccellenza?" cried Antonio, starting up from his seat
on the ground. "Then _per Crispo_! [16] I'll murder him when I catch
him." "There is no occasion to do that, my friend," said I. "You will not get
your three pauls back the sooner if he hasn't the money." "I'll go to his house again, though, if your Excellency can dispense
with my services for the present," said Antonio, "in the hopes of
catching him; though, if he is alive, he will be away in the mountains,
feeding his goats; but no matter, I'll enter the house and see for
myself if the bed is empty or no." "Go then," said I, "and return in an hour to let me know the result of
your visit." Off started Antonio, as fleetly as the wind, and before I could have
thought it possible, returned without appearing out of breath. "Well?" said I, working steadily on my picture without looking up. "Well, Eccellenza," he began, "I went straight to the house, and tried
the door, but it was locked, and there was no one within. I peeped
through the window, but could not catch a glimpse of the bed. I
descended the hill in a rage, when at some little distance, I saw
Peppe's wife. I ran to her and told her that I wanted to speak to her
husband, as I had found out that he was living. She persisted in saying
that it was false, and that her husband lay dead in his bed." "'Then let me see the corpse,' said I. "She replied that she was not going to fatigue herself to mount the hill
again to show me the corpse. That if I didn't choose to believe her, I
needn't. "'Give me the key of the house, then,' said I, 'that I may go in and
satisfy myself.' "She replied that she never trusted anyone with the key of her house,
and turned away. "I then lost my temper, and told her that both she and her husband were
a couple of swindlers, who had schemed to defraud me of my money. Then
she burst into tears again, and said that if I really wished to be
convinced that her husband was dead, I might go to the church myself
this evening, where the corpse of her husband would be lying in
state,[17] and that I might hide myself in one of the confessionals, and
watch all night to see if he moved at all, and that if he stirred ever
so little, never to believe her again. "Now, you see, Eccellenza, how artful women are. She hopes in that way
to intimidate me and to make me believe that her husband is dead in real
earnest. She fancies that I would be frightened to spend a whole night
inside the church with a corpse, and that I won't go. If, then, I should
call at her house to-morrow she would be sure to tell me that her
husband was already buried. I do not for a moment believe that her
husband will be exposed in the church all night, feigning to be dead;
but, just to give her the lie, I am determined to do just as she says,
and hide myself in one of the confessionals, that I may be able to tell
her that I passed the night in the church, and there was no corpse to be
seen." "Do so, my friend," said I. "I am most curious to hear how this affair
ends." As we were discoursing together Antonio suddenly broke short his
discourse. "Hark, Signor!" he cried. "Do you hear? Those are death-bells that are
tolling in the village. Can someone really have died, or has Peppe's
wife set them tolling to impose upon me all the more? What say you,
Signor? Would she carry out the joke as far as all that?" "There is nothing like doing a thing well," I answered, evasively. "I shall be able to find out from the sacristan for whom he has been
tolling the bell this morning," said Antonio, "and if that knave of a
Peppe is not dead yet, may I die of an accident if I don't worry him to
the death. You must know, Eccellenza, that three pauls to us poor devils
is a consideration, unimportant though the sum may be _alla vostra
Signoria_. [18] What a conscience the man must have to try and swindle me
out of what I lent him in friendship, after swearing to me on his word
of honour and invoking all sorts of curses on his own head if he failed
to pay me on the day he promised! Had not your Excellency positively
assured me that he still lives, I should be inclined to think that he
had died in real earnest, as a punishment for his broken faith." I was amused at the word "conscience" from the lips of a man like
Antonio, and the old fable of "the pot calling the kettle black" flashed
across my mind. We are wonderfully alive to the weak points of others'
consciences where our own interests are concerned, but are too often
wanting in equal rigour over ourselves. How true is that parable in
Scripture of the mote and the beam!