The sturdy man from Subiaco seemed like iron, for he ate sparingly and drank less, and went out into the village to secure a conveyance and to inquire the nearest way to Ceprano.

But when, as I have said, Nino had guarded Hedwig’s door for five hours he woke me from my sleep, and by that time it was about two in the afternoon.

“Hi, Messer Cornelio! wake up!” he cried pulling my arm.  And I rubbed my eyes.

“What do you want, Nino?” I inquired.

“I want to be married immediately,” he replied, still pulling at my elbow.

“Well, pumpkin-head,” I said angrily, “marry, then, in Heaven’s name, and let me sleep!  I do not want to marry anybody.”

“But I do,” retorted Nino, sitting down on the bench and laying a hand on my shoulder.  He could still see Hedwig’s door from where he sat.

“In this place?” I asked.  “Are you serious?”

“Perfectly.  This is a town of some size, and there must be a mayor here who marries people when they take the fancy.”

“Diavolo!  I suppose so,” I assented.

“A sindaco,—­there must be one, surely.”

“Very well, go and find him, good-for-nothing!” I exclaimed.

“But I cannot go away and leave that door until she wakes,” he objected.  “Dear Messer Cornelio, you have done so much for me, and are so kind,—­will you not go out and find the sindaco, and bring him here to marry us?”

“Nino,” I said, gravely, “the ass is a patient beast, and very intelligent, but there is a limit to his capabilities.  So long as it is merely a question of doing things you cannot do, very well.  But if it comes to this, that I must find not only the bride, but also the mayor and the priest, I say, with good Pius IX.,—­rest his soul,—­non possumus.”  Nino laughed.  He could afford to laugh now.

“Messer Cornelio, a child could tell you have been asleep.  I never heard such a string of disconnected sentences in my life.  Come, be kind, and get me a mayor that I may be married.”

“I tell you I will not,” I cried, stubbornly.  “Go yourself.”

“But I cannot leave the door.  If anything should happen to her—­”

“Macche!  What should happen to her, pray?  I will put my bench across the door, and sit there till you come back.”

“I am not quite sure—­” he began.

“Idiot!” I exclaimed.

“Well, let us see how it looks.”  And with that he ousted me from my bench, and carried it, walking on tiptoe, to the entrance of Hedwig’s room.  Then he placed it across the door.  “Now sit down,” he said, authoritatively, but in a whisper; and I took my place in the middle of the long seat.  He stood back and looked at me with an artistic squint.

“You look so proper,” he said, “that I am sure nobody will think of trying the door while you sit there.  Will you remain till I come back?”

“Like Saint Peter in his chair,” I whispered, for I wanted to get rid of him.