human
It takes an Italian to believe that wild story, Rafaello, I said.
gpt
I'm afraid your old 'Cina was teasing Lippo. It all sounds fishy to me. Are we nearly in? I feel cold.
human
Indeed no, _signore_, it is the truth. (We shall be in in eight minutes by the _signore's_ watch.) 'Cina will never again speak to an Englishman or--or one from the _signore's_ country. It is a vow. She would die first. Lippo got a chance for her to stand at her spinning for a crazy Englishman to paint in a picture--good money for it, too!--and she spat in his face. Perhaps the _signore_ will believe that?
gpt
Those stories mean nothing, I said, quivering with impatience.
human
They are but as old legends without names--and dates and places. Old women like 'Cina never can give those names and dates and places. They do not know if it was ten or twenty or fifty years ago, nor if the man were Austrian or English, or the woman Italian or French or Spanish. Pin them down, and they begin to make excuses. But I don't know why we discuss it--it is not very interesting, even if it is true. Nevertheless, and because you seem offended, Rafaello, and I merely want to show you that I am right, I will cheerfully give a good English sovereign to you or Lippo or the old woman herself, if she can so much as tell you the name of this famous nun and the name of her seducer. You will find she cannot, and then, since I am willing to wager something, you must take me for a fishing-trip free a whole day, in the _felucca_. Is it a bargain?