WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK.
It is said among business men that it requires twelve Jews to cheat a Genoese; but twelve Genoese are not enough to cheat a Greek.... Only one person, that I ever heard of, enjoys the not very enviable distinction of having cheated—not merely one Greek, but two.
He was a Bari man.
He was returning to Italy, but had no boots—or rather, the things he had were no longer boots. He carefully counted up his money, found that he had not enough to buy a new pair, and so quieted his conscience. Then he went to a shoemaker’s in the Street of Hermes.[11]
“I want a pair of shoes by Monday morning, to fit me exactly, with round toes,” etc.; in short, he gave the fullest directions.
“Certainly, sir. You shall have them without fail. They shall be sent to your house at ten on Monday morning.”
The Bari man left his address and departed.
In the Street of Æolus he entered another shoemaker’s shop and ordered a precisely similar pair of shoes in the same terms.
“Have I made myself understood?”
“Perfectly. Let me have the address, and on Monday at ten——”
“I shall not be in at ten. Don’t send them before eleven.”
“At eleven you may count on having them, without fail.”
On Monday at ten the first victim appeared. The gentleman tried on the shoes; the right was a perfect fit, the left was fearfully tight over the instep; it wanted stretching a little.
“All right,” said the obliging tradesman; “I will take it away, and bring it back to you to-morrow.”
“Very well; and I will settle your account then.”
The shoemaker bowed himself out with the left shoe.
At eleven, punctual as a creditor, arrived the second predestined victim. The same scene was repeated; but this time it was the right shoe that did not fit.
“You will have to put it over the last again, my friend.”
“We’ll soon set that right, sir.” And this shoemaker, more knowing than the other, was about to take both shoes away with him.
“Leave the other,” said the Bari man. “It’s a fancy of mine ... if you take them both, some one may come in and find that they fit him, and you will sell them to him, and I shall have to wait another week.”
“But I assure you, sir——”
“No, no, my friend; I know how things go. I want this pair of shoes and no other, and I insist on keeping the one.” The shoemaker bowed his head with a sigh, and went away to stretch the right shoe.
An hour later the Bari man and his shoes were already on board the Piræus steamer; and on the following day the two victims met on his doorstep, each with a shoe in his hand, and looked into each other’s rapidly lengthening faces.
Napoleone Corazzini.
Napoleone Corazzini.
Napoleone Corazzini.
Napoleone Corazzini.