Ruggiero looked at him curiously, but was far too much preoccupied with
his own thoughts to guess what the matter was. He turned away and went
towards the fire where the Gull was already tasting a slippery string of
the macaroni to find out whether it were enough cooked. Bastianello
shrugged his shoulders and followed him in silence. Before long they
were all seated round the huge earthen dish, each armed with an iron
fork in one hand and a ship biscuit in the other, with which to catch
the drippings neatly, according to good manners, in conveying the full
fork from the dish to the wide-opened mouth. By and by there was a sound
of liquid gurgling from a demijohn as it was poured into the big jug,
and the wine went round quickly from hand to hand, while those who
waited for their turn munched their biscuits. Some one has said that
great appetites, like great passions, are silent. Hardly a word was said
until the wine was passed a second time with a ration of hard cheese and
another biscuit. Then the tongues were unloosed and the strange, uncouth
jests of the rough men circulated in an undertone, and now and then one
of them suffered agonies in smothering a huge laugh, lest his mirth
should disturb the "excellencies" at their table.
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