"Well," said Aunt Martina at length, "didn't you bring me anything from Nuoro? You keep one a long time in suspense!" They had, in fact, brought her an apron, but Aunt Bachissia feigned surprise and mortification. "Of course," said she, "we had forgotten for the moment——" And she gave a shrill laugh, but sobered down instantly on observing that Giovanna took no part in these pleasantries, and seemed unable to shake off her melancholy.
"No, no; we never thought about it, but Giovanna will show you a few trifles that we bought——"
Giovanna got up, lighted a candle, and went into the adjoining room, Brontu's ardent gaze following her. Aunt Martina sat waiting for her present. Several moments passed and Giovanna did not return.
"What is she doing in there?" asked Brontu.
"Who knows?"
Another minute elapsed.
"I am going to see," he said, jumping up and walking towards the door.
"No, no; what are you thinking of?" said Aunt Bachissia, but so faint-heartedly that Aunt Martina—scandalised—called to her son to come back with energetic: "Zss—zss——"
Brontu, however, paying no attention, tiptoed to the door. Giovanna was standing before an open drawer, re-reading a letter which she had found slipped underneath the door when they got home that day. It was a heartbroken appeal from Costantino. In his round, unformed characters he implored her for the last time not to do this thing that she was about to do. He reminded her of the far-away time of their early love; he promised to come back; he assured her solemnly of his innocence. "If you have no pity for me," the letter concluded, "at least have some for yourself, for your own soul. Remember the mortal sin: remember eternity!"