At every breakfast the children were taught to say good-morning to each person separately.  The elder son would commence, “Good-morning and good appetite, Mr. Melville! good-morning and good appetite, Madama Melville! good-morning and good appetite, Signora Felicia!” and so on.  Then Celestino would go through the same ceremony, and finally Virginia, and a grace was uttered, during which the breakfast was liable to become cool, and Rugiero’s temper (if he were present) not so.  “Andiamo!  I am sure that Signor Melville and madama do not insist upon so many compliments; and you, Eugenio, should have more gallantry than to keep the Signora Felicia waiting whilst her toast becomes cold.”  That he should connect the word gallantry with Eugenio was an imprudence, to say the least.  But the offence was more serious when once at dinner he favored us with some reminiscences of his own gallantries:  “I remember that when I was in the army the wife of our colonel had a sister, a splendid-looking creature, with eyes like stars, who (to tell the truth) was head over ears in—­But my sister Lucretia, who is frowning at me, is right.  One would say that she must have had an enlarged experience in such matters, seeing how sensitive she is to the danger of discussing them.” (Here Signora Lucretia, with blushing cheeks, glanced from Rugiero to her son, who with downcast eyes appeared to be absorbed with the roast chicken on his plate.) “Without entering into details that would appear ill-timed to my dear sister” (here his eyes twinkled with roguishness and his lips parted in laughter), “suffice it merely to say that I acted as any other man under the circumstances would have acted, and kissed her not once or twice, but—­”

“Go to thy room, Eugenio, most audacious!” panted Signora Lucretia, for he had raised his head, and, meeting his uncle’s laughing gaze, had faintly smiled—­“Go to thy room” (and here she struck him on the face), “and recite the Litany of the Blessed Virgin three times, and pray for thy uncle, that he may be converted.”

Eugenio with flaming cheeks and ears rose submissively from the table, and without a word or look ascended to his room to do her bidding.

“What!” exclaimed Rugiero, rising from his seat, “would you dare to insult me by desiring my own nephew to pray for me?  It seems to me that I dream!  Per Bacco!”

Here my father observed that he must own he saw nothing very outrageous in what Rugiero had narrated, yet, as Signora Mortera had her own peculiar views on the matter, he considered that her brother was bound to respect them.  Rugiero then admitted that he had been too hasty, and a reconciliation was effected, but he never met his nephew’s eye thereafter without the same roguish smile, at which the poor youth would blush painfully and lower his gaze.

During this scene at the dinner-table Celestino breathed quickly, but never moved his eyes from the table-cloth, while Virginia looked at each one of the speakers in open-mouthed astonishment and curiosity.