I am invited out this evening." At other times, when the instructor was luxuriating in bodily comfort, with a book in one hand near the roaring stove, seeing through the windows the gray and rainy afternoon, his disciple would suddenly appear saying, "Quick, get out!.

.

.

There's a woman coming!" And Argensola, like a dog who gets up and shakes himself, would disappear to continue his reading in some miserable little coffee house in the neighborhood.
In his official capacity, this widely gifted man often descended from the peaks of intellectuality to the vulgarities of everyday life.

He was the steward of the lord of the manor, the intermediary between the pocketbook and those who appeared bill in hand.