To all of this the deputy listened sadly, combing his mustaches.
Fishily fixed, while the master blasphemed behind his mustaches.
Women always looked at a man's figure, his eyes, his teeth, his mustaches.
"It is very good of him," said the Marchesino, pulling at his mustaches.
He laughed again, seized his mustaches, twisted them, and went on.
He was ninety years old, ...