“Albergo cattivissimo,” said Benham.  “Cattivissimo!  Pranzo cattivissimo ’orrido.  Cavallo cattivissimo, dangerousissimo.  Gioco abominablissimo, damnissimo.  Capisce.  Eh?” *

* This is vile Italian.  It may—­with a certain charity to Benham—­ be rendered:  “The beastliest inn!  The beastliest!  The beastliest, most awful lunch!  The vilest horse!  Most dangerous!  Abominable trick!  Understand?”

The landlord made deprecatory gestures.

“You understand all right,” said Benham.  “Da me il argento per il carozzo.  Subito?” *

* “Give me back the money for the carriage.  Quickly!”

The landlord was understood to ask whether the signor no longer wished for the carriage.

“Subito!” cried Benham, and giving way to a long-restrained impulse seized the padrone by the collar of his coat and shook him vigorously.

There were dissuasive noises from the company, but no attempt at rescue.  Benham released his hold.

“Adesso!” said Benham. *

* “Now!”

The landlord decided to disgorge.  It was at any rate a comfort that the beautiful lady was not seeing anything of this.  And he could explain afterwards to his friends that the Englishman was clearly a lunatic, deserving pity rather than punishment.  He made some sound of protest, but attempted no delay in refunding the money Benham had prepaid.  Outside sounded the wheels of the returning carriage.  They stopped.  Amanda appeared in the doorway and discovered Benham dominant.

He was a little short of breath, and as she came in he was addressing the landlord with much earnestness in the following compact sentences.

“Attendez!  Ecco!  Adesso noi andiamo con questa cattivissimo cavallo a Piedimulera.  Si noi arrivero in safety, securo that is, pagaremo.  Non altro.  Si noi abbiamo accidento Dio—­Dio have mercy on your sinful soul.  See!  Capisce?  That’s all.” *

* “Now we will go with this beastly horse to Piedimulera.  If we get there safely I will pay.  If we have an accident, then—­”

He turned to Amanda.  “Get back into the thing,” he said.  “We won’t have these stinking beasts think we are afraid of the job.  I’ve just made sure he won’t have a profit by it if we smash up.  That’s all.  I might have known what he was up to when he wanted the money beforehand.”  He came to the doorway and with a magnificent gesture commanded the perplexed driver to turn the carriage.

While that was being done he discoursed upon his adjacent fellow-creatures.  “A man who pays beforehand for anything in this filthy sort of life is a fool.  You see the standards of the beast.  They think of nothing but their dirty little tricks to get profit, their garlic, their sour wine, their games of dominoes, their moments of lust.  They crawl in this place like cockroaches in a warm corner of the fireplace until they die.  Look at the scabby frontage of the house.  Look at the men’s faces. . . .  Yes.  So!  Adequato.  Aspettate. . . .  Get back into the carriage, Amanda.”