'What are you going to do now?' he asked in a whisper, after a short time.
'We are going to our village,' the old man muttered. 'To-morrow we will go by the first train.'
'Yes, yes, we are going back,' the poor old woman groaned, without looking up.
'What are you to do there?' he rejoined, wishing to find out the full extent of all that misfortune.
'We are to work by the day in the fields,' said the old man simply.
He examined the two, so old, tired, and bent, now making ready to begin life again so as to get bread, to dig the ground with shaking arms, bending their brown faces and sparse white hair, under the summer sun. Struck to the heart by this last blow, feeling the chorus of misfortune growing around him, he did not open his mouth about the money he was to have got from Trifari; indeed, feverishly, he felt such pity for the two old folk that he said to them:
'Can I do anything for you?'
'No, no, thank you,' the two said, with the despairing gestures of those who expect no more help.
'Keep up your courage, then.'
'Yes, yes, thank you,' they muttered again.