Gustavo, a picture of guilty remorse, searched his memory for the words he had used.

Why, oh why, had he not piled up adjectives?
It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and he had wantonly thrown it away.
But--to his astonished relief--the young man appeared to be bearing no malice.

He appeared, on the contrary, quite unusually cheerful as he sauntered, whistling, across the court and seated himself in the exact chair the signorina had occupied.

He plunged his hand into his pocket suggestively--Gustavo had been the only one omitted in the distribution of silver--and drew forth a roll of bills.

Having selected five crisp five-lire notes, he placed them under the sugar bowl, and watched his companion while he blew three meditative rings of smoke.
'Gustavo,' he inquired, 'do you suppose you could find me some nice, gentle, lady-like donkeys, and a red sash and a pair of earrings ?' Gustavo's fascinated gaze had been fixed upon the sugar bowl and he had only half caught the words.
'_Scusi_, signore, I no understand.' 'Just sit down, Gustavo, it makes me nervous to see you standing all the time.