"No, no, it's yours, bambina. Hide it back in your shoe. Marta likes to know her little one has money snugged away where she can use it if she needs it."
Guiseppe soon returned in the same bad humor in which he had been all the way to Sorrento.
"Those Americans have sent for the Tarantella dancers to come to the Vittoria Hotel to–night to dance the Tarantella for them. They say they dance it better here than in Naples. We will take the upstart there and see what she is worth. Fix her up. There'll be a crowd."
He looked at Pappina. Her face was drawn and white, her hair disordered, her frock soiled, wrinkled and torn.
"What's the matter with the girl?" he asked. "She looks like a hungry beggar. See her shoes, her dress all dirt and stains. Confound you, Pappina, where's your beauty gone? You are all eyes to–day, when you ought to look like something." He grabbed her fiercely by the arm and shook her. Pappina's hot Italian blood boiled.
"You coward!" she hissed the words. She doubled up her little fist and raised it to strike him. Guiseppe grabbed her hand and shook her again in his fury. Marta sprang to Pappina's rescue with a savage look on her face no one had ever seen there before. Guiseppe loosened his hold on Pappina and pushed her away from him with such force she would have fallen to the ground had not Marta caught her.
"Coward! Fiend! Coward!" the child hissed through her set teeth.
"Coward, eh! Call me names, will you? We'll see after to–night. Marta, wash her impudent face; comb her hair; for heaven's sake do something! They'll think she is no more than a beggar, and they are sick of beggars. We found that out at Amalfi, where the whole town begs."
Marta washed Pappina, combed her hair, and tried to smooth out her dress and make her acceptable to Guiseppe; but he seemed determined not to be pleased.
"Can't you keep your eyelids down a little?" he said to the child. "I tell you, you are all eyes to–day—great big, black, staring eyes! Pinch up her cheeks, Marta; see if you can't get some color in them."