"Yes, it is just the way it used to be at first, after the sentence; I dream every night that he has come back, and it is curious, but do you know, I am never frightened,—though Giacobbe Dejas declares that if Costantino ever did come back he would kill me. I don't know, but I somehow feel in my heart that he is coming back; I never used to think so, but I do now. Oh! there is no use in looking at me like that. Am I reproaching you for anything? I should say not. You would have a better right to reproach me. What good has it all done you? None at all; you can't even come to see me any more—up there——" She thrust out her lip in the direction of the white house. "My mother-in-law is afraid you might carry some dust off on your feet! And I can't give you anything, not a thing; do you understand? Not even my work. Everything is kept locked up, and I am treated exactly like a servant."
"But I don't want anything, my heart. Don't make yourself miserable over such trifles. I am not in need of anything," said Aunt Bachissia very gently. "You must not worry about me; all I care about is that money I borrowed from Anna Dejas. I don't see how I am ever to pay her, but she will wait."
Giovanna reddened angrily, and wrung her hands, exclaiming in a high-pitched voice: "Well, anyhow, I shall certainly speak to him about that to-night, the nasty beast; I am going to tell him that at least he might pay for the rags I have on my back. Pay for them! Pay for them! May you be shot!"
"Don't speak so loud; don't get so excited, my soul. There is no use, I tell you, in losing your temper. What good will getting angry do you? Suppose he were to turn you out."
"Well, he may if he wants to; it would be better if he did. At least, I could work for myself then, instead of slaving for those accursed people. Ah, there she is, coming back," she added in a lower tone as the black-robed figure of Aunt Martina appeared in the open glare of the common. "Now, I'll get a scolding for leaving the house empty; she's afraid some one will steal her money. She has heaps of it, and she doesn't even know about it; she can't tell one note from another, nor the coins either. She has ten thousand lire,—yes, a thousand scudi——"
"No, my soul, two thousand."
"Well, two thousand, hidden away. And I am not allowed a drop of anything to refresh me, or to slake this burning thirst inside me!"
"It will all be yours," said Aunt Bachissia, "if you will only be patient and bide your time. When the angels come some day and carry her off to Paradise, it will all belong to you."
Giovanna cleared her throat, and rubbed it with one hand; then she resumed hotly: "They may drive me out if they want to, it makes no difference to me. Listen: the communal clerk says I am Brontu's wife, but it seems to me as though I were just living with him in mortal sin. Do you remember what sort of a marriage it was? Done secretly, in the dark almost; without as much as a dog present; no confections—nothing. And then Giacobbe Dejas—choke him!—laughing and yelling out: 'Here he comes, the beauty!' and then the 'beauty' came."
"Now you listen to me," said Aunt Bachissia in a low penetrating voice. "You are simply a fool. Upon my word, you always were, and you always will be. Why do you give up so? and for such trifles too? I tell you every poor daughter-in-law has got to live just as you are living. Your harvest-time will come; only be patient and obedient, and you will see it will all come out right. Moreover, just as soon as the baby is born I believe you will find that things are very different."