Then little Pasquale saw the faces about him and knew what had happened.
“He’s dead!” he shrilled, and burst into tears.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE EVIL EYE
Tears, too, had rushed to Teresa’s eyes, with a sweet, glad sense of something not akin to grief. Her hand on the couch in the semi-darkness touched another and she drew it away, trembling.
Suddenly a wail came from the calle, a hurried step crossed the shop floor, and the slattern mother burst into the room. Close behind followed Tita, who, seeing his mistress, blocked the inner door with his huge frame against the curious, with whom the place now overflowed.
The weeping woman had thrown herself beside the couch where the child lay, his eyes closed again. All at once she saw the man who stood above her, and to Teresa’s astonishment sprang up and spat out coarse imprecations.
“The evil eye!” she screamed. “Take the Inglese away and fetch some holy water! He has the evil eye!”
Teresa saw the spasm of pain that crossed the colorless face. “No, no!” she cried.
“What did I say!” sneered the carpenter.
Tita’s great hand took him by the throat. “Silence, devout jellyfish!” he said, “or I crack your skull. Didn’t you hear the signorina?”