Isidoro laid down the cord: "It's of no use to get angry," said he. "Priest Elias has no business with threats, and he has not used them; but never fear, excommunication will fall on that house all the same!"
"Well, I am going to leave them; yes, I am going away. I'll eat no more of their accursed bread!" said Giacobbe with a look expressive of his loathing and disgust. "But before going, I should like to have the pleasure of administering a sound thrashing to those favourites of the devil."
"You are crazy, little spring bird," said Isidoro with a melancholy smile, imitating Giacobbe.
"Yes, I am, I'm crazy; but even so, what do you care? You haven't done anything either to stop this sacrilege. Oh, it's disgraceful! I've lost all my good spirits——"
"It has made me ten years older."
"All my good spirits, and I keep thinking all the time of what Costantino will say to us for not being able to put a stop to it. Is it true that he is ill?"
"Not now; he was ill, but now he is only desperate," said Uncle Isidoro, shaking his head. Then he picked up the cord and began plaiting it again, murmuring below his breath: "Excommunicate—excommunicate——"
"I get so furious that I foam at the mouth—the way a dog does," said Giacobbe, raising his voice. "Just exactly like a dog. No, after all, I don't think I'll quit that house; I'll stay there if I burst, and see them when the blast of excommunication strikes them. Yes, if there is one thing that is sure, it is that God punishes both in this life and the other too, and I want to be on hand when it comes. What is that that you are making, Uncle 'Sidoro?"
"A horsehair cord."
There was a short silence; Giacobbe sat staring at the cord, his eyes dim with grief and anger.