Pasquale was there, and must have heard what had passed.

He shut the door and followed Zorzi back a little way.
"It is no concern of mine," he said roughly.

"You may amuse yourself as you please, for you are young, and your host may be the Archangel Michael himself, or the holy Saint Mark, and the house to which you are bidden may be a paradise full of other angels! But I would as soon sit down before the grating and look at the hooded brother, while the executioner slipped the noose over my head to strangle me, as to go to any place on a bidding delivered by a fellow with such a jail-bird's head.

It is as round as a bullet and as yellow as cheese.

He has eyes like a turtle's and teeth like those of a young shark." "I am quite of your opinion," said Zorzi, halting at the entrance to the garden.
"Then why did you not kick him into the canal ?" inquired the porter, with admirable logic.
"Do I look as if I could kick anything ?" asked Zorzi, laughing and glancing at his lame foot.
"And where should I have been ?" inquired Pasquale indignantly.