“What I know I will tell you, Signor Conte,” he answered, filling his pipe with bits that he broke off a cigar.  “But I know very little.  He must be a foreigner, because he goes to such a place; and he is certainly crazy, for he shuts his daughter in the old castle, and watches her as though she was made of wax, like the flowers you have in Rome under glass.”

“How long have they been there, these queer folks?” I asked.

“What do I know?  It may be a month or two.  A man told me, who had come that way from Fucino, and that is all I know.”

“Do people often travel that way, Gigi?”

“Not often, indeed,” he answered, with a grin.  “They are not very civil, the people of those parts.”  Gigi made a gesture, or a series of gestures.  He put up his hands as though firing a gun.  Then he opened his right hand and closed it, with a kind of insinuating twirl of the fingers, which means “to steal.”  Lastly he put his hand over his eyes, and looked through his fingers as though they were bars, which means “prison.”  From this I inferred that the inhabitants of Fillettino were addicted to murder, robbery, and other pastimes, for which they sometimes got into trouble.  The place he spoke of is about thirty miles, or something more, from Palestrina, and I began planning how I should get there as cheaply as possible.  I had never been there, and wondered what kind of a habitation the count had found; for I knew it must be the roughest sort of mountain town, with some dilapidated castle or other overhanging it.  But the count was rich, and he had doubtless made himself very comfortable.  I sat in silence while Gigi finished his wine and chatted about his affairs between the whiffs of his pipe.

“Gigi,” I said at last, “I want to buy a donkey.”

“Eh, your excellency can be accommodated:  and a saddle, too, if you wish.”

“I think I could ride without a saddle,” I said, for I thought it a needless piece of extravagance.

“Madonna mia!” he cried.  “The Signor Conte ride bareback on a donkey!  They would laugh at you.  But my brother-in-law can sell you a beast this very day, and for a mere song.”

“Let us go and see the beast,” I said.  I felt a little ashamed of having wished to ride without a saddle.  But as I had sold all I had, I wanted to make the money last as long as possible; or at least I would spend as little as I could, and take something back, if I ever went home at all.  We had not far to go, and Gigi opened a door in the street, and showed me a stable, in which something moved in the darkness.  Presently he led out an animal and began to descant upon its merits.

“Did you ever see a more beautiful donkey?” asked Gigi, admiringly.  “It looks like a horse!” It was a little ass, with sad eyes, and ears as long as its tail.  It was also very thin, and had the hair rubbed off its back from carrying burdens.  But it had no sore places, and did not seem lame.