“Let’s see it.”
She followed Matteo, who carried a light, into the room. On the threshold she was arrested by the same shivering sensation.
“Every morning I air the room and let in the sun. Carmela sweeps, I dust. Look, look, Signorina, there is no dust. Tell the Signore....”
“Yes, I will tell him. Shut the door, Matteo; we will go to mine.”
They went there. When they got inside her teeth began to chatter.
“Shall I light the fire in here, too, Signorina?”
“Yes, light it, and bring me another lamp.”
She took off her furs and threw them on the bed. The room was full of shadows, which the faint light of the wick of the lamp he held, of the kind in use among the peasantry, did not dispel. Matteo returned with a larger lamp. She took her place on the sofa. Matteo remained standing before her, as if he were ready to make his report.
“Well, what news?” inquired Caterina, seeing that Matteo wished to be questioned.
“It happened a week ago that the wind was very high, and through the forgetfulness of Carmela, who had left the windows open, four panes were broken in the dining-room.”