as much. He cannot really take the offer. He regrets, but he cannot. That
the gentleman would say something more! So much--for example. That he
regard the stuff, its quality, fashion, beauty.

The gentleman laughs him to scorn. Ah, heigh! and, coming forward, he
picks up the article and reviles it. Out of the mode, old, fragile, ugly
of its kind. The shopman defends his wares. There is no such quantity and
quality elsewhere in Venice. But if the gentleman will give even so much
(still something preposterous), he may have it, though truly its sale for
that money is utter ruin.

The shopper walks straight to the door. The shopman calls him back from
the threshold, or sends his boy to call him back from the street.

Let him accommodate himself--which is to say, take the thing at his own
price.

He takes it.

The shopman says cheerfully, "Servo suo!"

The purchaser responds, "Bon di! Patron!" (Good day! my Master!)

Thus, as I said, every bargain is a battle, and every purchase a triumph
or a defeat. The whole thing is understood; the opposing forces know
perfectly well all that is to be done beforehand, and retire after the
contest, like the captured knights in "_Morgante Maggiore_" "calm as
oil,"--however furious and deadly their struggle may have appeared to
strangers.