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And this girl, Peppina?
He thought of the horrors of Naples, of the things that happen "behind
the shutter," of the lives led by some men and women, some boys and
girls of the great city beneath the watching volcano. He thought of
evenings he had spent in the Galleria. He saw before him an old woman
about whom he had often wondered. Always at night, and often in the
afternoon, she walked in the Galleria. She was invariably alone. The
first time he had seen her he had noticed her because she had a
slightly humped back. Her hair was snow white, and was drawn away from
her long, pale face and carefully arranged under a modest bonnet. She
carried a small umbrella and a tiny bag. Glancing at her casually, he
had supposed her to be a respectable widow of the borghese class. But
then he had seen her again and again, and by degrees he had come to
believe that she was something very different. And then one night in
late spring he had seen her in a new light dress with white thread
gloves.


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