"And the Padrone should think in time that he must lay by for the dower of the poor signorina." Riccabocca sighed, and made no reply.
"She must be that high now!" said Jackeymo, putting his hand on some imaginary line a little above the balustrade.

Riccabocca's eyes, raised over the spectacles, followed the hand.
"If the Padrone could but see her here--" "I thought I did," muttered the Italian.
"He would never let her go from his side till she went to a husband's," continued Jackeymo.
"But this climate,--she could never stand it," said Riccabocca, drawing his cloak round him, as a north wind took him in the rear.
"The orange trees blossom even here with care," said Jackeymo, turning back to draw down an awning where the orange trees faced the north.
"See!" he added, as he returned with a sprig in full bud.
Dr.Riccabocca bent over the blossom, and then placed it in his bosom.
"The other one should be there too," said Jackeymo.
"To die--as this does already!" answered Riccabocca.

"Say no more." Jackeymo shrugged his shoulders; and then, glancing at his master, drew his hand over his eyes.
There was a pause.

Jackeymo was the first to break it.

"But, whether here or there, beauty without money is the orange tree without shelter.
If a lad could be got cheap, I would hire the land, and trust for the crop to the Madonna." "I think I know of such a lad," said Riccabocca, recovering himself, and with his sardonic smile once more lurking about the corners of his mouth,--"a lad made for us." "Diavolo!" "No, not the Diavolo! Friend, I have this day seen a boy who--refused sixpence!" "Cosa stupenda!" exclaimed Jackeymo, opening his eyes, and letting fall the watering-pot.
"It is true, my friend." "Take him, Padrone, in Heaven's name, and the fields will grow gold." "I will think of it, for it must require management to catch such a boy," said Riccabocca.