"He would have got it pretty soon if you hadn't come," said Giacobbe.
Brontu opened his mouth and his lips moved, but no sounds came forth, and his anger presently died away as senselessly as it had come.
"Well——" he stammered. "I wanted you. We have hardly seen each other all day. What were you doing at your mother's? Who was there?"
"Who was there?" she repeated, in a tone of intense bitterness. "Why, no one. Who would you expect to find at our house?"
"Why, San Costantino might come—t—o—o—gi—i—i—ve you—u a po—em——" sang Giacobbe thickly. "Have you ever seen San Costantino? Well, there's Isidoro Pane—he's perfectly crazy—he doesn't like you; no, indeed, he doesn't, and—and——"
"Shut up; hold your tongue!" said Aunt Martina. "And the sheepfolds left all this time to take care of themselves! That's the way you attend to your master's business! You're all alike, accursed thieves!"
Giacobbe sprang forward, erect and livid; and Giovanna, fearing that he was really going to strike the old woman, stepped quickly between them. He turned, however, without saying a word, and sat down, but with so lowering an expression that Giovanna remained near her mother-in-law in an attitude of protection.
Brontu, on the contrary, was struck with the idea that his mother deserved a rebuke.
"What sort of manners are these?" he demanded in a tone that was intended to be severe. "Why, you treat people as though—as though—as though they were beasts—everybody! To-day—to-day—no, yesterday was a holiday. If he chose to get drunk, what business was that of yours?"
"I got drunk on poison," remarked Giacobbe.