"He's not dead, and he's not a brother; and it was I who would not have Giovanna Era. If I had wanted her to, she would have licked the soles of my shoes."
"Bum—bum—look out, or you'll have a tumble, my little spring bird. You lie like a servant-maid."
"I—I—am—not—a—a—servant-maid," stammered Brontu, furious. "If you say anything like that again, I'll take you by the crown of your head and choke you."
"Bum—I tell you, you'll fall down, little spring bird," repeated Giacobbe at the top of his lungs. Their voices rang out through the quiet street; then they suddenly ceased talking, and stillness reigned once more. In the distance, under the light of the stars which overhung the mountain crests like garlands of golden flowers, the owl still sounded his melancholy note.
All at once Brontu began to cry in a strange, drunken fashion, with neither sobs nor tears.
"Well, what is the matter now?" demanded Giacobbe in a low tone. "Are you drunk?"
"Yes, I am. Drunk with poison, you galley refuse. I only hope you will be strangled yet!"
At this the other felt very indignant. Not only had he never been to prison, but he had never so much as been accused of any offence against the law. Yet, mingled with his resentment, there was a vague feeling of terror.
"You are going crazy!" said he in a still lower tone. "What's the matter with you? Why should you talk to me like that? Have I ever done anything to you?"
Whereupon the other became confidential, and, groaning as though he were in physical pain, he declared that he was, in truth, madly in love with Giovanna, and that he had hoped, and prayed the devil, from the beginning, that Costantino would be found guilty.