“Seven more trips without pause for breath,
The pain of living is worse than death.”
Margherita Cornado had suffered for those poor children all her own childhood. And because she was always thinking of their hardships, people believed that she would be a saint.
Neither did she forget them as she grew older. As soon as she was grown, she went to Grotte, where most of the mines are, and when the little wagons came out into the daylight, she was waiting for them by the shaft with fresh, clean water. She wiped the perspiration from their faces, and she dressed the wounds on their shoulders. It was not much that she could do for them, but soon the little wagons felt that they could not go on with their work any day that Margherita Cornado did not come and comfort them.
But unfortunately for the little wagons, Margherita was very beautiful. One day one of the mining-engineers happened to see her as she was relieving the children, and instantly fell very much in love with her.
A few weeks after, Margherita Cornado stopped coming to the Grotte mines. She sat at home instead and sewed on her wedding outfit. She was going to marry the mining-engineer. It was a good match, and connected her with the chief people of the town, so she could not care for the little wagons any longer.
A few days before the wedding the old beggar, Santuzza, who was Margherita’s god-mother, came and asked to speak to her. They betook themselves to the roof-garden in order to be alone.
“Margherita,” said the old woman, “you are in the midst of such happiness and magnificence that perhaps there is no use speaking to you of those who are in need and sorrow. You have forgotten all such things.”
Margherita reproved her for speaking so.
“I come with a greeting to you from my son, Orestes. He is in trouble, and he needs your advice.”