“You and the lizards. There is no other to be the wiser.”
He stood silent for some minutes, presently reverting to what she had said—
“They fling their money, do they? And on Monday I went to the Bianchis’ house—you know the Bianchi?”
She nodded.
“Livia is ill—the little white one who always suffers, always! But now she is worse. I tell you she has nothing. She lies on the floor and moans till your heart swells. They took her to the hospital, the one at Sant’ Onofrio—”
Peppina nodded again.
“The Bambino Gesu, yes.”
“And they shut the door in their faces. There was room, but no money. They are good women, I do not blame them. But no money. And these, these fling theirs here, there, where they will, while we die.” He went on gloomily, “We shall change all that before we have done.”
“Eh,” said the girl happily, “and then you will be rich in your turn.”
She closed her eyes, lapping herself in delicious thoughts of how she would have a dress which should outshine the Cianchetti’s wildest attempts, and plenty of good things to eat without working for them. Cesare was clever. But he must not be imprudent. And she did not mean to ask him what was in his mind. She could forgive him anything except love for the Cianchetti.