Ah! she would rather like to fight and—win. She was beginning to feel old, she was tired of work, and well pleased at the prospect of having a strong servant in the house without wages. Moreover, she liked Giovanna, and Brontu wanted her, and so people might burst with envy if they chose.
On the evening of the day when the marriage was published, Uncle Isidoro Pane was working hard in his miserable hut by the brilliant, ruddy light of a large fire. This was the one luxury which Uncle Isidoro was able to allow himself—a good fire—since he collected his wood from the fields, the river-banks, and the forests. During the winter his chief occupation was weaving cord out of horsehair; he knew, in fact, how to do a little of almost everything,—spin, sew, cook (when there was anything to cook), patch shoes,—and yet he had never been able to escape from dire poverty.
Suddenly the door was thrown open; there was a momentary glimpse of the March sky—not stormy, but overcast—and Giacobbe Dejas silently seated himself beside the fire.
The fisherman's kitchen looked like one of those pictures of Flemish interiors, where the figures are thrown out in a ruddy glow against a dark background. By the uncertain light, a grey spider-web could be dimly discerned, with the spider in the middle; in the corner near the hearth, a glass jug filled to the brim with water in which black leeches swam about; a yellow basket against the wall; and finally the figures of the two men and the black hair cord, its loose ends held between the bony, red fingers of the old fisherman.
"And how goes it now?" asked Giacobbe.
"How goes it now? How does it go now?" repeated the old man. "I don't know."
"Well, it's been published," said Giacobbe more as though he were talking to himself. "The thing is actually done! The drunkard never even came near the pastures to-day, so I just took myself off as well. They may steal his sheep if they want to; I don't care; here I am, and something has got to be done, Isidoro Pane! Hi! Isidoro Pane! leave that cord alone and listen to me. Some—thing—has—got—to—be—done——Do you hear me?"
"Yes, I hear you; but what is there to do? We have done all we can—implored, expostulated, threatened——The syndic has interfered, the clerk. Priest Elias——"
"Oh, Priest Elias! What did he do? Talked to them with sugar in his mouth! He should have threatened them; he should have said: 'I'll take the Holy Books and I'll curse you! I'll excommunicate you; you shall never be able to satisfy your hunger, nor to quench your thirst, nor to have any peace; you shall live in a hell upon earth!' Ah, then you would have seen some result! But no, he is a dunce—a warm-milk priest; and he has not done his duty. Don't speak of him to me, it makes me angry."