"She's in bed."
"Don't you see 'tis the Sacrament," replied la Licodiana. "Now the neighbors have begun to scream at the door."
"As soon as I finish kneading this dough," said comare Sidora, "I'll run over a moment to see if they have need of anything. Compare Meno loses his right hand when this second wife of his dies."
"Some men have no luck with their wives, just as some are unfortunate with their mules. No sooner do they get 'em than they lose 'em. There's comare Angela."
"Yesterday evening," observed la Licodiana, "I saw compare Meno at his door; he had come back from the vineyard before the Ave Marie, and was blowing his nose on his handkerchief."
"But," suggested the woman who was kneading the dough, "he is a master hand at killing off his wives. In less than three years already two of curátolo[18] Nino's daughters have been eaten up, one after the other! Wait a little and you'll see the third go the same way, and all curátolo Nino's things wasted."
"Is this little girl comare Nunzia's daughter, or his first wife's?"
"She's his first wife's daughter. But this one has been just as kind to her as though she had been her own mamma, because the little orphan was her niece, you know."
The child, hearing them speaking of herself, began to weep silently in a corner, thus relieving her bursting heart, which she had till then kept under control, by playing with her apron.
"Come here, come here," pursued comare Sidora. "The nice cake's all ready. There, there! Don't cry; for your mamma's in Paradise."