His personal dealings with Barto were of recent date; but Luigi knew him by repute: he knew that the shoemaking business was a mask.

Barto had been a soldier, a schoolmaster: twice an exile; a conspirator since the day when the Austrians had the two fine Apples of Pomona, Lombardy and Venice, given them as fruits of peace.

Luigi remembered how he had snapped his fingers at the name of Barto Rizzo.
There was no despising him now.

He could only arrive at a peaceful contemplation of Barto Rizzo's character by determining to tell all, and (since that seemed little) more than he knew.

He got back to the leather-smelling chamber, which was either the same or purposely rendered exactly similar to the one he had first been led to.
At the end of a leaden hour Barto Rizzo returned.
"Now, to recommence," he said.