The Cardinal's snuff-box

How it begins

“The Signorino will take coffee?” old Marietta asked, as she set the fruit before him. “But in the garden, perhaps?” the little brown old woman suggested, with a persuasive flourish. “No,” he corrected her, gently smiling, and shaking his head, “not perhaps—certainly.” “The Signorino will find a rustic table, under the big willow-tree, at the water's edge,” she informed him, with a good deal of gesture. “Shall I serve it there?” “Where you will. I leave myself entirely in your hands,” he said. So he sat by the rustic table, on a rustic bench, under the willow, sipped his coffee, smoked his cigarette, and gazed in contemplation at the view.