'
'I will come and see you to-morrow,' said Sidonia, 'after your first
progress.'
'An hour after noon, if you please,' said Baroni. 'It is pleasant for
me to become acquainted with a fellow artist, and one so liberal as
yourself.'
'Your name is Baroni,' said Sidonia, looking at him earnestly.
'My name is Baroni.'
'An Italian name.'
'Yes, I come from Cento.'
'Well, we shall meet to-morrow. Good night, Baroni. I am going, to send
you some wine for your supper, and take care the grandmamma drinks my
health.'
II.
It was a sunny morn: upon the green contiguous to the Auberge of St.
Nicholas was a house upon wheels, a sort of monster omnibus, its huge
shafts idle on the ground, while three fat Flemish horses cropped the
surrounding pasture. From the door of the house were some temporary
steps, like an accommodation ladder, on which sat Baroni, dressed
something like a Neapolitan fisherman, and mending his clarionet; the
man in the blouse was eating his dinner, seated between the shafts, to
which also was fastened the little dog, often the only garrison, except
the grandmother, of this strange establishment.
The little dog began barking vociferously, and Baroni, looking up,
instantly bade him be quiet.
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