When Sanin, an hour and a half later, returned to the Rosellis shop he was received there like one of the family. Emilio was sitting on the same sofa, on which he had been rubbed; the doctor had prescribed him medicine and recommended great discretion in "avoiding strong emotions" as being a subject of nervous temperament with a tendency to weakness of the heart. He had previously been liable to fainting-fits; but never had he lost consciousness so completely and for so long. However, the doctor declared that all danger was over. Emil, as was only suitable for an invalid, was dressed in a comfortable dressing-gown; his mother wound a blue woollen wrap round his neck; but he had a cheerful, almost a festive air; indeed everything had a festive air. Before the sofa, on a round table, covered with a clean cloth, towered a huge china coffee-pot, filled with fragrant chocolate, and encircled by cups, decanters of liqueur, biscuits and rolls, and even flowers; six slender wax candles were burning in two old-fashioned silver chandeliers; on one side of the sofa, a comfortable lounge-chair offered its soft embraces, and in this chair they made Sanin sit. All the inhabitants of the confectioner's shop, with whom he had made acquaintance that day, were present, not excluding the poodle, Tartaglia, and the cat; they all seemed happy beyond expression; the poodle positively sneezed with delight, only the cat was coy and blinked sleepily as before. They made Sanin tell them who he was, where he came from, and what was his name; when he said he was a Russian, both the ladies were a little surprised, uttered ejaculations of wonder, and declared with one voice that he spoke German splendidly; but if he preferred to speak French, he might make use of that language, as they both understood it and spoke it well. Sanin at once availed himself of this suggestion. "Sanin! Sanin!" The ladies would never have expected that a Russian surname could be so easy to pronounce. His Christian name— Dimitri —they liked very much too. The elder lady observed that in her youth she had heard a fine opera—Demetrio e Polibio —but that Dimitri was much nicer than Demetrio. In this way Sanin talked for about an hour. The ladies on their side initiated him into all the details of their own life. The talking was mostly done by the mother, the lady with grey hair. Sanin learnt from her that her name was Leonora Roselli; that she had lost her husband, Giovanni Battista Roselli, who had settled in Frankfort as a confectioner twenty-five years ago; that Giovanni Battista had come from Vicenza and had been a most excellent, though fiery and irascible man, and a republican withal! At those words Signora Roselli pointed to his portrait, painted in oil-colours, and hanging over the sofa. It must be presumed that the painter, "also a republican!" as Signora Roselli observed with a sigh, "had not fully succeeded in catching a likeness", for in his portrait the late Giovanni Battista appeared as a morose and gloomy brigand, after the style of Rinaldo Rinaldini! Signora Roselli herself had come from "the ancient and splendid city of Parma where there is the wonderful cupola, painted by the immortal Correggio!" But from her long residence in Germany she had become almost completely Germanised. Then she added, mournfully shaking her head, that all she had left was this daughter and this son (pointing to each in turn with her finger); that the daughter's name was Gemma, and the son's Emilio; that they were both very good and obedient children—especially Emilio... ("Me not obedient!" her daughter put in at that point. "Oh, you're a republican, too!" answered her mother); that the business, of course, was not what it had been in the days of her husband, who had a great gift for the confectionery line... ("Un grand uomo!" Pantaleone confirmed with a severe air); but that still, thank God, they managed to get along!

一个半小时后，萨宁回到了罗塞利糖果店，他在这儿受到了亲人般的款待。埃米利奥还是坐在替他摩擦时躺着的那张沙发上。医生已经给他开了一个药方，并叮嘱千万要小心，“别让他太激动”，因为他生性有些神经质，容易患心脏病。他以前也昏厥过，但从来没有这么厉害，这么持久。不过医生说，一切危险都已经过去了。埃米尔现在穿着一件舒适的晨衣，对于一个刚恢复健康的病人，这样穿很合适。他妈妈给他脖子上围了条淡蓝色的羊毛围巾，而他神情愉悦，犹如过节一般。的确，这里的一切都弥漫着过节的气氛。沙发前面的圆桌上，铺了一块干净的台布，上面摆了一个很大的瓷咖啡壶，里面的巧克力饮料香味四溢，壶周围摆着茶杯、玻璃瓶装的甜酒、饼干和小圆面包，还有鲜花。一对古老的大银烛台上点着六支细长的蜡烛。沙发的一边，摆了张舒适柔软的伏尔泰式躺椅——那是为萨宁准备的。萨宁那天见过的所有住在糖果店里的人，今天都聚在一起了，连卷毛狮子狗塔尔塔利阿和那只猫也在。所有人都满怀着难以言诉的喜悦，卷毛狮子狗快活得直打喷嚏，只有那只猫像以前一样困倦地眯着眼睛。他们问萨宁是做什么的，来自哪里，叫什么名字。当萨宁说他是俄国人时，两位女士都有点惊讶，甚至惊叫出来，并且一致称赞他德语讲得很好。但是如果他喜欢讲法语的话，可以用法语交谈，因为她们俩都懂法语，并且也讲得很好。萨宁立刻接受了这个建议。“萨宁！萨宁！”这两位女士从没想过俄国人的名字读起来会这样顺口。她们也非常喜欢他的教名——德米特里。那位年长的女士说，她年轻时听过一场优美的歌剧《德梅特里奥与波利比奥》，但是“德米特里”比“德梅特里奥”好听得多。就这样，萨宁谈了大约一个小时。女士们也开始把自己的所有生活情况说给萨宁听。银发的母亲更健谈一些。从谈话中，萨宁得知：母亲名叫利奥诺拉·罗塞利；她的丈夫，乔瓦尼·巴蒂斯塔·罗塞利，已经去世了；他二十五年前从维琴察搬来法兰克福，是个制作糖果点心的师傅，虽然脾气有点暴躁，但为人很好，还是一个共和党呢。谈起这些，罗塞利太太指指挂在沙发上方的油画，那是他的画像。“这个画家肯定也是个共和派！”罗塞利太太注视着画像，叹了口气说道，“他画得不太像。”因为画像中已故的乔瓦尼·巴蒂斯塔被画得阴郁而严峻，就像里纳尔多·里纳尔迪尼一类的强盗！罗塞利太太出生在“古老而美丽的城市帕尔马，那里有不朽的画家柯勒乔画上彩画的神奇圆顶”。但是由于久居德国，她差不多完全德国化了。接而她忧伤地摇着头，补充说道，现在女儿和儿子就是她的一切了（她逐个指指他们）。女儿叫吉玛，儿子叫埃米利奥，他俩都是乖巧而听话的孩子。尤其是埃米利奥……（“我不乖巧！”她女儿立刻插嘴道。“噢，你也是个共和派呀！”她妈妈回答道。）当然，现在生意大不如她丈夫在世的时候了，她丈夫可是做糖果点心的高手……（“一个伟大的人啊！”潘塔莱昂纳神情严肃地附和道。）但是谢天谢地，他们的生活还过得去！ oT5NsZSm2IG3SzVUb+L4kBAdy6fQBtnTBpSyBrHTg+XDnAYVkzne8WeJU+gnZAMo