"What diavolo put into your pumpkin head to give me a sepulchre for a room ?" He seemed much disturbed at what I said, and broke out into a thousand apologies.

But I was not to be so easily pacified.
"Do you think," I demanded, "that I will ever come here again, or advise any of my friends to come here?
It is insufferable.

I will write to the police--" But at this he began to shed tears and to wring his hands, saying it was not his fault.
"You see, signore, it was my wife who made me arrange it so.

Oh! these women--the devil has made them all! It was her father--the old dead man you saw.

He died yesterday morning--may he rest!--and we will bury him to-day.