They walked down the road to the Concordia three abreast. On the porch of the Concordia where the rusty bobsleds were stacked the young gentleman said, _Was wollen sie?_ Peduzzi handed him the ten lira note folded over and over. Nothing, he said, Anything. He was embarrassed. Marsala maybe. I don’t know. Marsala? The door of the Concordia shut on the young gentleman and the wife. Three marsalas, said the y. g. to the girl behind the pastry counter. Two you mean? she asked. No, he said, one for a _vecchio._ Oh, she said, a _vecchio,_ and laughed getting down the bottle. She poured out the three muddy looking drinks into three glasses. The wife was sitting at a table under the line of newspapers on sticks. The y. g. put one of the marsalas in front of her. You might as well drink it, he said. Maybe it’ll make you feel better. She sat and looked at the glass. The y. g. went outside the door with a glass for Peduzzi but could not see him. I don’t know where he is, he said coming back into the pastry room carrying the glass. He wanted a quart of it, said the wife. How much is a quarter litre, the y. g. asked the girl. Of the bianco? One lira. No, of the marsala. Put these two in too, he said giving her his own glass and the one poured for Peduzzi. She filled the quarter litre wine measure with a funnel. A bottle to carry it, said the y. g. She went to hunt for a bottle. It all amused her. I’m sorry you feel so rotten Tiny, he said, I’m sorry I talked the way I did at lunch. We were both getting at the same thing from different angles. It doesn’t make any difference, she said. None of it makes any difference. Are you too cold, he asked. I wish you’d worn another sweater. I’ve got on three sweaters. The girl came in with a very slim brown bottle and poured the marsala into it. The y. g. paid five lira more. They went out of the door. The girl was amused. Peduzzi was walking up and down at the other end out of the wind and holding the rods. Come on, he said, I will carry the rods. What difference does it make if anybody sees them. No one will trouble us. No one will make any trouble for me in Cortina. I know them at the _municipio._ I have been a soldier. Everybody in this town likes me. I sell frogs. What if it is forbidden to fish? Not a thing. Nothing. No trouble. Big trout I tell you. Lots of them. They were walking down the hill toward the river. The town was in back of them. The sun had gone under and it was sprinkling rain. There, said Peduzzi, pointing to a girl in the doorway of a house they passed. My daughter. His doctor, the wife said, has he got to show us his doctor? He said his daughter, said the y. g. The girl went into the house as Peduzzi pointed.