"Are you going to Rebecca?" she said jealously. "She's taken to begging. A shame, isn't it, for a girl like that? Tell her so."
"She's a cripple."
"Not she. She's cured. What are you looking at? My reaping hook?"
"Why's it hanging on the door?"
"For the vampire. When the vampire comes in at night she stops to count the teeth of the sickle. She can't count further than seven so she keeps beginning again. Then the dawn comes, and the moment she sees the light she flies off. Why do you laugh? It's quite true. God bless you, dear; good journey and do the place credit!" said the beggar, going with him to the street.
He went to Rebecca. Huddled up in her dark hole she seemed a wild beast sick in its den—though considerably more than twenty she was still the size of a child.
Seeing the lad, she flushed all over and offered him a bunch of black grapes on a rude cork-tray.
"Take them. I've nothing else!"
"Say 'thou'[12] to me," said Anania, taking one from the bunch.
"I'm not worthy. I'm not Margherita Carboni. I'm a poor wretch," said the girl excitedly. "Take the whole bunch. It's quite clean. I haven't touched it. Uncle Pera su gattu brought it."