'Perhaps it is him, do you think?' Colaneri asked with a little shake in his voice.
'No, no,' Trifari answered; 'he is to come later, when we are all here....'
'Then, the spirit has not told him anything?'
'It looks as if the spirit could not go against Fate, for it tells him nothing about this.'
Another ring came. Trifari went to open the door. It was Marzano, the lawyer, the sprightly, good-natured, smiling old man. But sudden decrepitude seemed to have come over him; his pallor had got yellowish, his pepper-and-salt moustache was quite white, and had got thin over his mouth. His smile had gone for ever; evidently, as death drew near, his good opinion of life had gone. He came in sighing. He was soaking, his overcoat shone with drops of water all over, and his lean hands trembled. He sat down saying nothing, and kept his hat well down over his ears, only his mouth kept up the old habit of moving, always chewing ciphers. Now he leant his pointed chin, where a neglected beard was growing, on his stick, being so wrapt in thought he did not even hear what Trifari and Colaneri were saying to each other. Suddenly he, too, having the same engrossing thought, asked: 'Will he come, do you think?'
'Of course he will,' the other two answered together.
'These mediums either see a lot or they see nothing.'