II
The following morning, when Candia Marcanda had her hands in the soap-suds, there appeared at her door-sill the town guard Biagio Pesce, popularly known as “The Corporal.” He said to her, “You are wanted by Signor Sindaco at the town-hall this very moment.”
“What did you say?” asked Candia, knitting her brows without discontinuing her task.
“You are wanted by Signor Sindaco at the town-hall this very moment.”
“I am wanted? And why?” Candia asked in a brusque manner. She did not know what was responsible for this unexpected summons and therefore reared at it like a stubborn animal before a shadow.
“I cannot know the reason,” answered the Corporal. “I have received but an order.”
“What order?”
The woman because of an obstinacy natural to her could not refrain from questions. She was unable to realise the truth.
“I am wanted by Signor Sindaco? And why? And what have I done? I have no wish to go there. I have done nothing unseemly.”
Then the Corporal cried impatiently, “Ah, you do not wish to go there? You had better beware!” And he went away muttering, with his hand on the hilt of his shabby sword.