"You are quite right," said Ferrari. "You cannot put race-horses to draw the plow. I have always imagined that the first quarrel--the Cain and Abel affair--must have occurred through some difference of caste as well as jealousy--for instance, perhaps Abel was a negro and Cain a white man, or vice versa; which would account for the antipathy existing between the races to this day."
The Duke di Marina coughed a stately cough, and shrugged his shoulders.
"That first quarrel," he said, "as related in the Bible, was exceedingly vulgar. It must have been a kind of prize-fight. Ce n'etait pas fin."
Gualdro laughed delightedly.
"So like you, Marina!" he exclaimed, "to say that! I sympathize with your sentiments! Fancy the butcher Abel piling up his reeking carcasses and setting them on fire, while on the other side stood Cain the green-grocer frizzling his cabbages, turnips, carrots, and other vegetable matter! What a spectacle! The gods of Olympus would have sickened at it! However, the Jewish Deity, or rather, the well-fed priest who represented him, showed his good taste in the matter; I myself prefer the smell of roast meat to the rather disagreeable odor of scorching vegetables!"
We laughed--and at that moment the door was thrown open, and the head-waiter announced in solemn tones befitting his dignity-"Le diner de Monsieur le Conte est servi!"
I at once led the way to the banqueting-room--my guests followed gayly, talking and jesting among themselves. They were all in high good humor, none of them had as yet noticed the fatal blank caused by the absence of the brothers Respetti. I had--for the number of my guests was now thirteen instead of fifteen. Thirteen at table! I wondered if any of the company were superstitious? Ferrari was not, I knew--unless his nerves had been latterly shaken by witnessing the death of his uncle. At any rate, I resolved to say nothing that could attract the attention of my guests to the ill-omened circumstance; if any one should notice it, it would be easy to make light of it and of all similar superstitions. I myself was the one most affected by it--it had for me a curious and fatal significance. I was so occupied with the consideration of it that I scarcely attended to the words addressed to me by the Duke di Marina, who, walking beside me, seemed disposed to converse with more familiarity than was his usual custom. We reached the door of the dining-room; which at our approach was thrown wide open, and delicious strains of music met our ears as we entered. Low murmurs of astonishment and admiration broke from all the gentlemen as they viewed the sumptuous scene before them. I pretended not to hear their eulogies, as I took my seat at the head of the table, with Guido Ferrari on my right and the Duke di Manna on my left. The music sounded louder and more triumphant, and while all the company were seating themselves in the places assigned to them, a choir of young fresh voices broke forth into a Neapolitan "madrigale"--which as far as I can translate it ran as follows: "Welcome the festal hour! Pour the red wine into cups of gold! Health to the men who are strong and bold! Welcome the festal hour! Waken the echoes with riotous mirth-- Cease to remember the sorrows of earth In the joys of the festal hour! Wine is the monarch of laughter and light, Death himself shall be merry to-night! Hail to the festal hour!"