It was a long
time before either landlord or waiter returned, being hurried away by
the tempest of new custom. When mine host appeared, there was a smile
of triumph on his countenance. - "Perhaps," said he, as he cleared away
the table, "perhaps the signor has not heard of what has happened."
"What?" said the Englishman, drily.
"Oh, the procaccio has arrived, and has brought accounts of fresh
exploits of the robbers, signor."
"Pish!"
"There's more news of the English Milor and his family," said the host,
emphatically.
"An English lord.-What English lord?"
"Milor Popkin."
"Lord Popkin? I never heard of such a title!"
"O Sicuro - a great nobleman that passed through here lately with his
Milady and daughters - a magnifico - one of the grand councillors of
London - un almanno."
"Almanno - almanno? - tut! he means alderman."
"Sicuro, aldermanno Popkin, and the principezza Popkin, and the signorina
Popkin!" said mine host, triumphantly. He would now have entered into a
full detail, but was thwarted by the Englishman, who seemed determined
not to credit or indulge him in his stories. An Italian tongue,
however, is not easily checked: that of mine host continued to run on
with increasing volubility as he conveyed the fragments of the repast
out of the room, and the last that could be distinguished of his voice,
as it died away along the corridor, was the constant recurrence of the
favorite word Popkin - Popkin - Popkin - pop - pop - pop.
