“I am pulling out these weeds.”
“Come down.”
“Let me finish.”
“Come down, I tell you!”
At this unceremonious summons poor Don Mario had to descend, leaving several bushes of pellitory to spoil the beautiful building unchecked....
They were nearly taking him off to the police station!... And all for a good action! He died within three months, with the nightmare of those weeds weighing on his heart.... Poor old Don Mario!
Luigi Capuana.
THE EXCAVATIONS OF MASTRO ROCCO.
Ever since he had taken it into his head to “take off the charm,” in the Grotto of the Seven Gates, Mastro Rocco had given up his pork-butcher’s shop, and was always on the top of the hill, baking his hump-back in the sun, digging here and there from morning to night, to find some trace of the treasure which the Saracens had enchanted in that neighbourhood.