Clasping her hands, Donna Cristina asked: “Who could it have been?”
Donna Isabella Sertale, nicknamed the Pole-cat, who had the lithe and stealthy movements of a beast of prey, asked in a strident voice: “Who did you have with you, Donna Cristina? It seems to me that I saw Candia on her way—”
“Ahah!” exclaimed Donna Felicetta Margasanta, nicknamed the Magpie because of her continuous garrulity. “Ahah!” repeated the other gossips.—“And you hadn’t thought of it?”—“And you never noticed?”—“And you don’t know about Candia?”—“We can tell you about Candia!”—“Indeed we can!”—“Oh, yes, we can tell you about her!”
“She washes clothes well, there is no denying it. She is the best laundress in Pescara, there’s no question about it. But the trouble with her is that she is too light-fingered—didn’t you know that, my dear?”
“She got a couple of towels from me once.”—“And a napkin from me.”—“And a night-gown from me.”—“And three pairs of stockings from me.”—“And a new petticoat from me.”—“And I never got them back again.”—“Nor I.”—“Nor I.”
“But I didn’t discharge her. Whom could I get? Silvestra?”
“Oh! oh!”
“Angelantonia? The African?”
“Each one worse than the other!”
“We must put up with it.”