We were only—les autres. Gianfrancesco became agitated. Every one turned to her in astonishment. The next moment, however, he was picked up, and set upon his feet by a person who, having witnessed the accident, flew across the road to his assistance. It was a clear, lovely, October morning. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. Thieves and pickpockets are his constant companions. Only it was with a further and most unbelieving shrug of the shoulders that he resumed his seat.
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