"Guiseppe, give them to me! Please, dear Guiseppe!"
She begged, threatened and cried, but all in vain.
"Enough, enough, I say! Come on," Guiseppe commanded, as he started forward.
"I'll not stir till you give me those beads," the child declared.
Guiseppe came back to her and raised his hand threateningly, but stubborn Pappina declared again:
"I'll not sing for you ever, Guiseppe, if you keep those pretty beads. I'll never, never sing for you again, and then we can never go to America. I'd sooner give up the pet pig than those gold beads."
Marta grew bold. "Oh, please let her have them," she pleaded.
"Hold your tongue!" her husband answered roughly. "You'd have me give her my head if she asked for it."
Guiseppe again lifted his hand threateningly and had started toward Pappina when a carriage drove up. The merry party in it—foreigners on their way from Cava to Salerno—had already noted his menacing air, Marta's pained look, and the beautiful child pouting by the wayside.