But Bosio had turned to the window again, and sat looking out and watching the people in the broad semicircular Piazza.
The priest, having paid his little score, carefully folded his newspaper and put it into the wide pocket of his cassock.

Then he gathered up the collar of his big cloak behind him, as he sat, and began to edge his way out from behind the little marble table.

But the long folds had fallen far on each side--so far that Bosio had unawares sat down upon the cloth, and as the priest tried to get out, he felt the cloak being dragged from under him.

The priest stopped and turned, just as Bosio rose with an apology on his lips, which became an exclamation of surprise, as he began to speak.
"Don Teodoro!" he cried.

"You were next to me, and I did not see you!" The priest's eyelids contracted to help his imperfect sight, and he smiled as he moved nearer to Bosio.
"Bosio!" he exclaimed, when he had recognized him.