The woman waited, expressionless.

"Looking for a painter, you say?" Ernesto uttered at last.

The German woman nodded once.

"I paint!" Gio exclaimed.

Ernesto glanced towards his brother, raising an eyebrow.

"No, no …I think not," the woman said tentatively.

"Ha!" cried Ernesto, nodding his head sharply and waving his hand at Gio in dismissal. "See? She knows you're no painter!"

"I can paint," Gio protested. "Ignore my brother."

"You …you …are Tarentella, the painter?"

"A most excellent painter," Gio continued. "I did our office. I painted the hallways upstairs. You should see them. Smooth, like satin, those walls! I will paint for you!"

"See the flour on his apron? He is Tarentella the baker," said Ernesto. "If he's a painter, I'm the Pope."