Harry Joscelyn; vol. 2 of 3Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
General
Harry Joscelyn; vol. 2 of 3
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Families -- England -- Fiction; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
“Between friends,” said Paolo, “there is not the need of explanation. I
understand you, Mister. Are you a Christian or a Protestant,” he added
quickly, “have you a name of baptism, perhaps?” Paolo did not want to
hurt the feelings of his new friend in case he was not provided with
this article. But Harry’s pride was wounded to the quick.
“A Christian,” he cried, “or a Protestant? I am both a Protestant and a
Christian! I never heard such horrible intolerance in all my life. It is
you who are not Christians, you papists praying to idols--worshipping
saints, and old bones, and all sort of nonsense.” Harry was so much in
earnest that his face grew crimson, and Paolo retreated yet another
step.
“You heat yourself; but it is not needed,” he said, waving his hand with
deprecating grace. “Me, I am above prejudices. Here one calls one’s self
Giovanni or Giacomo, or Paolo, as with me; and when the person is
respectable of years, Ser Giovanni or Ser Giacomo; but if one has not a
name of baptism, it is the same, that make no difference----”
“Do you take me for a heathen that never was christened?” cried Harry.
“My name is----” here he stopped and laughed, but grew redder, with a
dusky colour; but “in for penny in for a pound,” as he had already
remarked to himself--“my name is Isaac--Isaac Oliver, as I told you,”
he said.
“Bene, bene!” said Paolo. “It is enough, I will say to the consul: here
is Mister Isaac, who is my friend. He is English--man; yes, I
recollect--man; and I respond for him. He will be so condescending as to
take a situation; he will interpret like me; he will make the Italian
into the English, and the English into the Italian.”
“But how can I do that?” said Harry, “when I don’t understand one word
of your lingo? I can’t do that.”
Paolo’s countenance lengthened once more; but he speedily recovered
himself.
“That will teach itself,” he said. “I will talk; I will tell you
everything. Aspetto! there is now, presently, incessantly--an occasion.
Komm, komm along; something strikes me in the head. But silence, the
Vice-Consul, he it is that will settle all.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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