CHAPTER VI
THE TRUMP CARD APPEARS
"The boat is ready," said Ismaele, coming in unceremoniously, his pipe in his left hand, a lantern in his right.
"What time is it?" Franco asked.
"Half-past eleven."
"And the weather?"
"It is snowing."
"That is good!" Uncle Piero exclaimed ironically, stretching his legs towards the flames of the juniper bush that was crackling in the little fireplace.
In the small parlour, arranged for winter, Luisa, on her knees, was tying a muffler round Maria's neck. Franco, holding his wife's cape, stood waiting while the old housekeeper, her bonnet on and her hands buried in her muff, was grumbling at her master. "What a man you are! What are you going to do all alone here at home?"