"Shall you two go together to the magistrate's?"
"Where?"
"To the magistrate's; it's cold, though, now, and it's a long way to go; you must not go on horse-back, Anna-Rosa, do you hear? You will have to have a carriage to drive to Nuoro."
"What for?" she faltered distressedly, pretending not to understand.
"Why, to see the magistrate, of course."
She scolded him, and then went into the kitchen and wept bitterly.
"Here is your oil," she said presently, as Isidoro came out and prepared to leave. "You could not do anything but bring it, of course. When is Priest Elias coming?"
"This evening."
"Yes, he ought to; Giacobbe must confess. Time is flying, and he is very ill; last night he didn't close an eye. Ah!" she added suddenly, "he seems to me just like some wounded bird."