Uncle Pera offered him wine; but Franziscu Carchide, the handsome young shoemaker, interposed.
"No, no, Efès, if you don't dance, you don't drink. You must sing too. Come!"
"'When Amelia so pure and so pale——'"
Anania and Bustianeddu laughed till their sides ached, squatting on the husks like a pair of chickens.
"Let's put pins where he sleeps," suggested Bustianeddu.
"What for?" asked the more kindly Anania.
"To prick him, of course. Then he'll dance with a vengeance. I've brought the pins."
"All right," said the other, unwillingly.
The sot was still dancing, singing, reeling, stretching his hand to the glass. The people and the children laughed.
Then came Nanna, the drunken woman, cleaner and more sober than usual.