of you the whole time because I remembered that when we gave it two years ago you were present.
Just now in the Story of the Paladins, Orlando is throwing away his arms and running about naked in the woods, mad for love of Angelica; and soon we shall have the burning of Bizerta and the destruction of the Africans. This will finish in July and we shall then begin the Story of Guido Santo.
What have you done with that photograph of myself which I gave you and which you put into your cigarette-case? Is still there, or have you lost it? I have often promised to send you another but have not done so because when you come to Palermo in September I hope we shall be photographed together, you and I. Nevertheless I send you this one now, it was taken by an English lady who came to the teatrino last summer; you see me getting into a rage with a paladin, I am talking seriously to him and swearing at him because he will not let me dress him properly.
I will not prolong this letter, I do not wish to bore you; but I promise you that I will never fail to let you know of my doings and I count on you to tell me of yours.
Costantino, Sansone, Rinaldo, Rosina, Angelica, Ferraù, Pasquino, Onofrio and all the other marionettes embrace you and send you their kind regards.
I am and always shall be
Your affectionate friend
Alessandro Greco (Buffo).
On arriving at Palermo, I went to the teatrino at about ten at night; not seeing the buffo in his usual place keeping order at the door, I guessed he must be on the stage and, knowing the way, passed through the audience, dived under the proscenium, crept along a short passage, mounted a ladder and appeared among them unannounced. The father, the buffo and his brother, Gildo, were so much astonished that they dropped their marionettes all over the stage and shouted:
“When did you come?” “Why did you not write?” “Why did you not telegraph?”
Thereby spreading their astonishment among the audience, who saw no connection between these ejaculations and the exploits of Guido Santo. They soon recovered themselves, however, picked up their paladins and managed to bring the performance to its conclusion, and we shut the theatre and proceeded upstairs to the house. On the way the buffo took me aside into his workshop to show me two inflammable Turkish pavilions which he was making; Ettorina in her madness was to fire them in a few days, one in the afternoon and the other at the evening repetition, as a conclusion to the spectacle. I inquired:
“Who was Ettorina, and why did she go mad?”
“I will tell you presently,” replied the buffo, “we must first go upstairs.”
As we went up I asked after the singing and he promised to take me to the house of his professor to hear him have a lesson. Papa and Gildo had preceded us and we found them with the young ladies, Carolina and Carmela, and the child, Nina, who is as much a buffa as her brother Alessandro is a buffo. In a moment, the air was thick with compliments.
Papa: And how well you are looking! So much fatter than last year.
Myself (accepting the compliment): That is very kind of you. You are all looking very well also. Let me see, Buffo mio, how old are you now?
Alessandro: Guess.
Myself: Twenty-five.
Aless: Bravo. I completed my twenty-fifth year just three weeks ago. And you?
Myself: I have also completed my twenty-fifth year, but I did it more than three weeks ago.
Aless: I see. You have twenty-five years on one shoulder; and how many more on the other?
Myself: Twenty-five.
Aless: It seems to me you are making a habit of attaining twenty-five. Are you going to do it again?
Myself: I have begun, but I shall put off completing it as long as possible. If you want to know my exact age I will give you the materials for making the calculation. I went to the Great Exhibition of 1851.
Gildo: Tell us about it. I have often seen pictures of it in the illustrated papers, but I have never spoken to anyone who was there. Was it very beautiful? Were there many people? Did you see Queen Victoria?
Myself: I can’t tell you much about it. I was asleep and when I woke up I was so hungry that I cried till my mother took me into a side room and gave me my dinner. Then I went to sleep again until they took me home. I have been to many exhibitions since, but I never enjoyed one so much. You see, this one did not bore me.
Aless: You should not have had your dinner there. I went to the exhibition in Palermo and the food in the restaurant was not wholesome.
Gildo: Yes, but you must remember that Alessandro is very particular about his food. He can only eat the most delicate things and must have plenty of variety.
Myself: I did not have much variety in those days. I took my restaurant with me, the one at which I was having all my meals.
Gildo: Oh well, if one can afford to travel like a prince—
Myself: Gildo! I was not six weeks old and—
Papa: I have now made the calculation and I find you are my senior by six years. I hope that when I have caught you up I shall carry my age as lightly as you carry yours. Do I explain myself?
Aless (to me): I think you look older. I should have said you were a well-preserved man of sixty-four or (stretching a point in my favour) perhaps sixty-five.
Myself (feeling sure that here must be another compliment): Thank you very much.
Buffo: Not at all; it does you great credit.
Gildo: Now me, please. Ask me my age.
Myself: Well, Gildo, and how old are you?
Gildo: A hundred and seventy-four next birthday.
Myself: Santo Diavolo! You don’t look it. You must have been very busy since last autumn when, if I remember right, you were only twenty-one.
Carolina (tapping my right arm to attract my attention): Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, why do you not ask me my age?
Carmela (tapping my left arm): Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, you have not asked me my age.
Myself: Because I know how old you are. You are both of you the age that charming young ladies always are, and you do not look a day older.
Nina: I’m fourteen.
Caro and Carm (comparing notes): Did you hear what he said? He said we are charming young ladies.
Nina (insisting): I’m fourteen. Do I look it?
Myself: I can compliment you on looking a little older. Since last year you have grown out of being a child, but you have hardly yet grown into being a young lady like your sisters, though you are quite as charming.
Aless (taking the opportunity to begin): First you must know that Carlo Magno is now dead and the Pope is shut up in Paris and is being—
Caro: Signor Enrico, Signor Enrico, do you drink marsala in London?
Myself: Marsala is known in London, but we do not drink it every day as you do in Palermo.
Gildo: In England people drink tea; everything is so different in England.
Myself: That is quite true, Gildo. In England what is like that (holding my hand out with the palm up) in Sicily is like this (holding it with the palm down: Peppino Pampalone taught me this gesture).
Gildo: And that is why in London the people walk on their feet, whereas in Palermo they walk on their hands, as you have no doubt observed.
Aless: Si; e ecco perchè in Londra si mangia colla bocca, ma quì, in Palermo, si mangia nella maniera che ti farò vedere da un diavolo nel teatrino. But I was telling you about the Pope. He is shut up in Paris, where he is guarding