The Dodge Club Part 35

b.u.t.tons had taken out his purse. At this he hurriedly replaced it, with an air of vexation.

"I can only give twelve."

"Oh, Signore, be generous. Think of my struggles, my expenses, my family. You will not force me to lose."

"I would scorn to force you to any thing, and therefore I will depart."

"Stop, Signore," cried the Italian, detaining them at the door. "I consent. You may take it for fourteen."

"For Heaven's sake, b.u.t.tons, take it," said d.i.c.k, whose patience was now completely exhausted. "Take it."

"Twelve," said b.u.t.tons.

"Let me pay the extra two dollars, for my own peace of mind," said d.i.c.k.

"Nonsense, d.i.c.k. It's the principle of the thing. As a member of the Dodge Club, too, I could not give more."

"Thirteen, good Signore mine," said the Italian piteously.

"My friend, I have given my word that I would pay only twelve."

"Your word? Your pardon, but to whom?"

"To you."

"Oh, then, how gladly I release you from your word!"

"Twelve, Signore, or I go."

"I can not."

b.u.t.tons turned away. They walked along the street, and at length arrived at another clothier's. Just as they stepped in a hand was laid on b.u.t.tons's shoulder, and a voice cried out--

"Take it! Take it, Signore!"

"Ah! I thought so. Twelve?"

"Twelve."

b.u.t.tons paid the money and directed where it should be sent. He found out afterward that the price which an Italian gentleman would pay was about ten piastres.

There is no greater wonder than the patient waiting of an Italian tradesman, in pursuit of a bargain. The flexibility of the Italian conscience and imagination under such circ.u.mstances is truly astonishing.

Dress makes a difference. The very expression of the face changes when one has pa.s.sed from shabbiness into elegance. After b.u.t.tons had dressed himself in his gay attire his next thought was what to do with his old clothes.

"Come and let us dispose of them."

"Dispose of them!"

"Oh, I mean get rid of them. I saw a man crouching in a corner nearly naked as I came up. Let us go and see if we can find him. I'd like to try the effect."

They went to the place where the man had been seen. He was there still. A young man, in excellent health, brown, muscular, lithe.

He had an old coverlet around his loins--that was all. He looked up sulkily.

"Are you not cold?"

"No," he blurted out, and turned away.

"A boor," said d.i.c.k. "Don't throw away your charity on him."

"Look here."

The man looked up lazily.

"Do you want some clothes?"

No reply.

"I've got some here, and perhaps will give them to you."

The man scrambled to his feet.

"Confound the fellow!" said d.i.c.k. "If he don't want them let's find some one who does."

"Look here," said b.u.t.tons.

He unfolded his parcel. The fellow looked indifferently at the things.

"Here, take this," and he offered the pantaloons.

The Italian took them and slowly put them on. This done, he stretched himself and yawned.

"Take this."

It was his vest.

The man took the vest and put it on with equal _sang froid_. Again he yawned and stretched himself.

"Here's a coat."

b.u.t.tons held it out to the Italian. The fellow took it, surveyed it closely, felt in the pockets, and examined very critically the stiffening of the collar. Finally he put it on. He b.u.t.toned it closely around him, and pa.s.sed his fingers through his matted hair.

Then he felt the pockets once more. After which he yawned long and solemnly. This done, he looked earnestly at b.u.t.tons and d.i.c.k. He saw that they had nothing more. Upon which he turned on his heel, and without saying a word, good or bad, walked off with immense strides, turned a corner, and was out of sight. The two philanthropists were left staring at one another. At last they laughed.

"That man is an original," said d.i.c.k.

"Yes, and there is another," said b.u.t.tons.

As he spoke he pointed to the flight of stone steps that goes up from the Piazza di Spagna. d.i.c.k looked up. There sat The Beggar!