And majestically Don Bempo made himself a path through the crowd, which laughingly stepped aside for him, shouting:  “Gudgeons for the Spanish gentleman! Viva Don Bempo, who pays twenty ducats for a fish!”

“He will certainly not come back,” said the fisherman, shaking his head.

“He goes to buy gudgeons!” cried another.

“What will you bet that he returns to buy the fish?” said a third.

“He will not buy it!” interposed a fourth.  “These Spaniards have no money; they are poor devils!”

“Who dares say that?” shrieked another, and now suddenly followed one of those quarrels which are so quickly excited on the least occasion among the passionate people of the south.  There was much rage, abuse, and noise.  How flashed the eyes, how shook the fists, what threats resounded there!

“Peace, my dear friends, be quiet, I tell you!” cried the fisherman, with his stentorian voice.  “See, there comes a new purchaser for my fish.  Be quiet, and let us see how much France is disposed to offer us.”

The disturbance subsided as suddenly as it had arisen, and all pressed nearer; all directed interrogating, curious, expectant glances at Signor Gianettino, who just at that moment approached with a proud and grave step, followed by the solemn train of six scullions with their baskets.

No one had before remarked him in the crowd, for they had been all eyes and ears for Don Bempo, and hence every one supposed that he had only just then arrived.

The shrewd chief cook also assumed the appearance of having only accidentally passed that way without the intention of buying any thing.

But he suddenly stopped before the great fish as if astonished at its enormous size, and seemed to view it with admiration and delight.

“What a rare and splendid animal is this!” he finally exclaimed with animation.  “Really, one must come to Rome to see such a wonder!”

“That is understood!” exultingly cried the bystanders, who had a reverence for the fishes of Rome.

“This is no niggard! He will not be so mean as to offer twelve ducats for such a miracle as this!”

“Twelve ducats!” cried Gianettino, folding his hands.  “How can you think me so pitiful as to offer such a miserable sum for so noble a fish.  No, truly, he must have a bold forehead who would offer so little money for this splendid animal!”

“Hear him! hear!” cried the people.  “This is a learned man.  He knows something of the value of rarities!”

“Viva! Long life to the French cook, il grande ministre della cucina!”

Gianettino bowed politely in response to the compliment, and then civilly asked the price of the fish.

The fisherman stood there with an expression of regretful sadness upon his face.  “I fear it will be of little use to name the price!” said he, “the fish is as good as sold!”