“To tell the truth, I never thought you would have been so cute,” Ristabilito went on. “Well done! Bravo! I’m delighted!”
“What’s that you’re saying?” asked La Bravetta between his sobs. “What’s that you’re saying? Oh! poor me! How can I ever go home again?”
“Bravo! bravo! that’s right!” insisted Ristabilito. “Go on! Yell harder!—cry!—tear your hair! Make them hear! That’s it! Make them believe it!”
And Peppe, still weeping—
“But I say they have really and truly stolen it! Oh, dear! oh, dear!”
“That’s it! Go on! Don’t stop! Again!”
Peppe, quite beside himself with exasperation and grief, redoubled his asseverations.
“I’m telling the truth! May I die now, at once, if they haven’t stolen that pig from me!”
“Oh, poor innocent!” jeered Ciávola. “Put your finger in your eye! How can we believe you, when we saw the pig here yesterday evening? Has St. Anthony given him wings to fly away with?”
“Oh, blessed St. Anthony! It is just as I say!”