Well, however that may be, che viva." Here the landlady interposed, observing that she wished we would now speak English, for that she had quite enough of Italian, which she did not find near so pretty a language as she had expected.
"You must not judge of the sound of Italian from what proceeds from my mouth," said I.

"It is not my native language.

I have had little practice in it, and only speak it very imperfectly." "Nor must you judge of Italian from what you have heard me speak," said the man of Como; "I am not good at Italian, for the Milanese speak amongst themselves a kind of jargon, composed of many languages, and can only express themselves with difficulty in Italian.

I have been doing my best to speak Italian, but should be glad now to speak English, which comes to me much more glibly." "Are there any books in your dialect, or jergo, as I believe you call it ?" said I.
"I believe there are a few," said the Italian.
"Do you know the word slandra ?" said I.
"Who taught you that word ?" said the Italian.
"Giovanni Gestra," said I; "he was always using it." "Giovanni Gestra was a vulgar illiterate man," said the Italian; "had he not been so he would not have used it.

It is a vulgar word; Rossi would not have used it." "What is the meaning of it ?" said the landlady eagerly.
"To roam about in a dissipated manner," said I.
"Something more," said the Italian.