Peppe, not yet understanding, stared stupidly at Ristabilito, and his tears stopped flowing.
“But truly, I did not think you were so malicious!” went on Ristabilito. “Good fellow! My compliments!”
“What do you mean?” asked La Brevetta between his sobs. “What do you mean?... Oh, poor me! How can I now return home?”
“Good! Good! Very well done!” cried Ristabilito. “Play your part! Play your part! Weep louder! Pull your hair! Make every one hear you! Yes, that way! Make everybody believe you!”
Peppe, still weeping, “But I am telling you the truth! My pig has been stolen from me! Oh, Lord! Poor me!”
“Go on! Go on! Don’t stop! The more you shout, the less I believe you. Go on! Go on! Some more!”
Peppe, beside himself with anger and grief, swore repeatedly.
“I tell you it is true! I hope to die on the spot if the pig has not been stolen from me!”
“Oh, poor innocent fellow!” shrieked Ciavola, jestingly. “Put your finger in your mouth! How can we believe you, when last night we saw the pig there? Has San Antonio given him wings to fly?”
“San Antonio be blest! It is as I tell you!”