The presence of Signor Di Bello, alone and long of face, at the Three Gardens brought upon his head a rain of banter from a dozen boon comrades. When the storm of gibes and rib-tickling surmises as to the cause of his wifeless state had reached its height the form of the banker darkened the door. Signor Di Bello jumped to his feet, and, taking the middle of the smoky room, brandished his finger dramatically at the newcomer. “There, signori!” he cried, bulging with fury, “there is the dog that barked away my bride! A meddler, a numskull! He comes from Satan knows where with a cock-and-bull tale about somebody--Heaven knows whom--somebody who is the husband of my promised bride. A simpleton of a priest swallows his story like a forkful of spaghetti, and, presto! my wedding is put off for a week! By the Egg of Columbus, a fine team of donkeys!” “_Infame! infame!_” came from the men at the tables, which resounded with the blows of their horny fists. Bridget would have been proud of her Tomato could she have seen him at this crucial moment. Fine was the scorn with which he looked from face to face, and, smiling in imperial contempt of the whole company, dropped into a chair. “There is a proverb, signori,” he said, “which comes to me at this moment: Some men heave a sigh when the sun shows his eye.” “Bah!” roared Signor Di Bello. “Did I not tell you, my friends, that his head is filled with _polenta_?” (corn-meal mush.) “And yours has not even _polenta_ in it!” retorted the banker, rising and clapping his hands close to Signor Di Bello’s face. “If it were not empty, do you know what you would do? You would thank me for what I have done to-day. Would you have me tell the name of this husband whom nobody knows, who comes from Satan knows where? Would you?” “The name! The name!” from Signor Di Bello and the others. “Well, his name is Bertino Manconi. Do you know him? No? I will tell you: he is your nephew. He comes from Genoa. Do you know where that is? He once put a knife into your shoulder because he caught you playing the fool with his wife. Do you remember that?” “Where is Bertino?” asked Signor Di Bello, his voice grave and husky, every other tongue in the room silenced. “At my villa in the country. To-morrow you shall see him if you come with me.” “I will go with you.” “Very good. When my dandelions are sold out I shall be at your disposal.” It was long past the dinner hour when Aunt Carolina heard the sound of her brother’s latch-key in the lock. She was in the hall when he entered. He did not feign surprise at seeing her. They embraced, and kissed each other on both cheeks. “You are home a week before I expected you,” he said. “Yes; I could not leave you alone any longer. Ah! my dear brother, San Giorgio has watched over us this day.” “Why?” he asked, though aware that she, like all Mulberry, knew of his disappointment, and meant his deliverance from Juno.