You set forth your business to a crowd of villagers that have collected
around. It is simple enough. You want to speak to Luigi So-and-so. A
good-natured individual, who seems particularly anxious to help,
summarizes affairs by saying:
"The gentleman wants Luigi So-and-so."
There is evidently some joke in the mere suggestion of such a thing;
they all smile. Then a confused murmur of voices goes up:
"Luigi - Luigi. . . . Now which Luigi does he mean?"
You repeat his surname in a loud voice. It produces no effect, beyond
that of increased hilarity.
"Luigi - Luigi. . . ."
"Perhaps O'Zoccolone?"
"Perhaps O'Seticchio?"
"Or the figlio d' O'Zibalocchio?"
The good-natured individual volunteers to beat the surrounding district
and bring in all the Luigis he can find. After half an hour they begin
to arrive, one by one. He is not among them. Dismissed with cigars, as
compensation for loss of time.
Meanwhile half the village has gathered around, vastly enjoying the fun,
which it hopes will last till bedtime. You are getting bewildered; new
people flock in from the fields to whom the mysterious joke about Luigi
must be explained.
"Luigi - Luigi," they begin again. "Now, which of them can he mean?"
"Perhaps O'Marzariello?"
"Or O'Cuccolillo?"
"I never thought of him," says the good-natured individual. "Here, boy,
run and tell O'Cuccolillo that a foreign gentleman wants to give him a
cigar."
By the time O'Cuccolillo appears on the scene the crowd has thickened.
You explain the business for the fiftieth time; no - he is Luigi, of
course, but not the right Luigi, which he regrets considerably. Then the
joke is made clear to him, and he laughs again. You have lost all your
nerve, but the villagers are beginning to love you,
"Can it be O'Sciabecchino?"
"Or the figlio d' O'Chiappino?"
"It might be O'Busciardiello (the liar)."
"He's dead."
"So he is. I quite forgot. Well, then it must be the husband of
A'Cicivetta (the flirt)."
"He's in prison. But how about O'Caccianfierno?"
Suddenly a withered hag croaks authoritatively:
"I know! The gentleman wants O'Tentillo."
Chorus of villagers:
"Then why doesn't he say so?"
O'Tentillo lives far, far away. An hour elapses; at last he comes, full
of bright expectations. No, this is not your Luigi, he is another Luigi.
You are ready to sink into the earth, but there is no escape. The crowd
surges all around, the news having evidently spread to neighbouring
hamlets.
"Luigi - Luigi. . . . Let me see. It might be O'Rappo."
"O'Massassillo, more likely."
"I have it! It's O'Spennatiello."
"I never thought of him," says a well-known voice. "Here, boy, run and
tell - - "
"Or O'Cicereniello."
"O'Vergeniello."
"O'Sciabolone. ..."
"Never mind the G - - d - - son of b - - ," says a cheery person in
excellent English, who has just arrived on the scene.
