“It is not an exciting life,” remarked Orsino.

“No.  That is the beauty of it.  Look at me.  I have never succeeded in imitating that well-to-do, thoroughly worthy villain.  I began too late.  Take warning, Orsino.  You are young.  Grow fat and look on—­then you will die happy.  All the philosophy of life is there.  Farinaceous food, money and a wife.  That is the recipe.  Since you have money you can purchase the gruel and the affections.  Waste no time in making the investment.”

“I never heard you advocate marriage before.  You seem to have changed your mind, of late.”

“Not in the least.  I distinguish between being married and taking a wife, that is all.”

“Rather a fine distinction.”

“The only difference between a prisoner and his gaoler is that they are on opposite sides of the same wall.  Take some more wine.  We will drink to the man on the outside.”

“May you never be inside,” said Orsino.

Spicca emptied his glass and looked at him, as he set it down again.

“May you never know what it is to have been inside,” he said.

“You speak as though you had some experience.”

“Yes, I have—­through an acquaintance of mine.”

“That is the most agreeable way of gaining experience.”

“Yes,” answered Spicca with a ghastly smile.  “Perhaps I may tell you the story some day.  You may profit by it.  It ended rather dramatically—­so far as it can be said to have ended at all.  But we will not speak of it just now.  Here is another dish of poison—­do you call that thing a fish, Checco?  Ah—­yes.  I perceive that you are right.  The fact is apparent at a great distance.  Take it away.  We are all mortal, Checco, but we do not like to be reminded of it so very forcibly.  Give me a tomato and some vinegar.”

“And the birds, Signore?  Do you not want them any more?”

“The birds—­yes, I had forgotten.  And another flask of wine, Checco.”

“It is not empty yet, Signore,” observed the waiter lifting the rush-covered bottle and shaking it a little.

Spicca silently poured out two glasses and handed him the empty flask.  He seemed to be very thirsty.  Presently he got his birds.  They proved eatable, for quails are to be had all through the summer in Italy, and he began to eat in silence.  Orsino watched him with some curiosity wondering whether the quantity of wine he drank would not ultimately produce some effect.  As yet, however, none was visible; his cadaverous face was as pale and quiet as ever, and his sunken eyes had their usual expression.

“And how does your business go on, Orsino?” he asked, after a long silence.

Orsino answered him willingly enough and gave him some account of his doings.  He grew somewhat enthusiastic as he compared his present busy life with his former idleness.

“I like the way you did it, in spite of everybody’s advice,” said Spicca, kindly.  “A man who can jump through the paper ring of Roman prejudice without stumbling must be nimble and have good legs.  So nobody gave you a word of encouragement?”