[Colonel Starbottle’s Client and Other Stories by Bret Harte]@TWC D-Link book
Colonel Starbottle’s Client and Other Stories

CHAPTER II
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"Perhaps SHE wantah Tournelli--eh ?" "Well, you might bring some with the soup," blandly replied her escort, who seemed to enjoy the Italian's excitement as a national eccentricity; "but hurry up and set the table, will you ?" Then followed, on the authority of the Editor, who understood Italian, a singular scene.

Secure, apparently, in his belief that his language was generally uncomprehended, Tournelli brought a decanter, and, setting it on the table, said, "Traitress!" in an intense whisper.

This was followed by the cruets, which he put down with the exclamation, "Perjured fiend!" Two glasses, placed on either side of her, carried the word "Apostate!" to her ear; and three knives and forks, rattling more than was necessary, and laid crosswise before her plate, were accompanied with "Tremble, wanton!" Then, as he pulled the tablecloth straight, and ostentatiously concealed a wine-stain with a clean napkin, scarcely whiter than his lips, he articulated under his breath: "Let him beware! he goes not hence alive! I will slice his craven heart--thus--and thou shalt see it." He turned quickly to a side table and brought back a spoon.

"And THIS is why I have not found you;" another spoon, "For THIS you have disappeared;" a purely perfunctory polishing of her fork, "For HIM, bah!" an equally unnecessary wiping of her glass, "Blood of God!"-- more wiping--"It will end! Yes"-- general wiping and a final flourish over the whole table with a napkin--"I go, but at the door I shall await you both." She had not spoken yet, nor even lifted her eyes.

When she did so, however, she raised them level with his, showed all her white teeth--they were small and cruel-looking--and said smilingly in his own dialect:-- "Thief!" Tournelli halted, rigid.
"You're talking his lingo, eh ?" said her escort good-humoredly.
"Yes." "Well--tell him to bustle around and be a little livelier with the dinner, won't you?
This is only skirmishing." "You hear," she continued to Tournelli in a perfectly even voice; "or shall it be a policeman, and a charge of stealing ?" "Stealing!" gasped Tournelli.


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