"Go and make the gnocchi, woman! Make them as fat as your fingers!"
She giggled, looking at her hands, which were enormous, then took flour and kneaded it with river water.
Regina, finding her presence embarrassed the woman, went to the platform and sat down on a sack of flour. She lost herself in contemplation of the wonderful sunset. Already the sun was touching the river, making a great column of gold. The water came burning down from that magic spot, but upon reaching the mill its fire began to go out, and it disappeared into the east, pallid as mother-o'-pearl.
Regina saw the whirlpools all luminous like immense shells; the mill wheel flapped in the golden water like a huge metallic fan; the falling drops, in which the slant rays of the sun were refracted, showed all the rainbow colours.
The miller drew near Regina and bent towards her. His feet were bare, his thin legs and arms naked. His little green eyes smiled cynically.
"If I may, I'll speak two words with you," he murmured, respectfully.
"Yes?" said Regina.
Instead of two words, he told her a great number of interesting things. For instance, that he had all his teeth; that he paid 100 lire tax on his richezze mobili; that the wheel could be stopped with a rope; that his wife was timid and diffident, and always wanted to be tied to her husband's coat tails. Regina listened, half-disappointed that her tragedy had been wholly imaginary.
"You know," said the miller, who, while he talked, never stopped rubbing his arms and scratching one foot with the other, "I wish to goodness she'd go away for a fortnight or a month."
"Why?" asked Regina, ingenuously.