“We shall have no difficulty in selling them, master. This frost will set every housewife on the lookout for wood, and you will find that we sha'n't have to go far before we are accosted.”
It was two miles from the spot where they had bought the faggots to the gates of Turin.
“I sha'n't be sorry to get rid of this load,” Hector said. “It is not the weight but the roughness of the poles. My hands are quite chafed by them.”
“Loose your hold for a bit, master. My hands have been accustomed to rough work, and many a load of faggots have I drawn in my time.”
“I will hold on, Paolo. It is not more than a quarter of a mile farther. My hands have done plenty of work, too, but it has been done with smooth handled weapons. It is well that they should become accustomed to harder work.”
They passed without a question through the gate, and following the example of other vendors of wood, of whom they saw several, Paolo began to shout, “Large faggots for sale!”
It was not long before a door opened and a woman beckoned him.
“How much do you want for the whole?”
“A crown and a half,” Paolo said.
“I have been offered as many for a crown,” the woman replied.