“I am sure of nothing,” said Mrs Brodrick, smiling, “except that I am lazy.”
Baffled in this direction, Teresa’s mind rushed off to farther points,—doubling, trebling her subscriptions, and searching for objects which were not long in presenting themselves, all with outstretched hands. Her money flew, yet left her unsatisfied. At every turn problems met her, and when she pushed them impatiently on one side, they still clamoured in her ears. She wanted to know more of the real question of the people, and could not reach it. She talked to Nina.
“Eh-h-h-h-h! Misery enough, eccellenza!”
“That I know. But why?”
“Why? Who knows?” Nina spreads her hands. “There is no work, or if there is work there is no money to buy it with. But whether there is no work or no bread, there is always the tax, tax, tax.”
“Is it that the country is so poor?”
“There are many who grow rich on its poverty, eccellenza,” Nina replied significantly.
“What do the people think would make things better?”
“Eh-h-h-h! Who knows? There is wild talk.”
Teresa was frowning.