Then from
the kitchen the two women had rushed in, gesticulating, ejaculating,
their faces convulsed with excitement. They had seized Maddalena,
Ruffo. One of them--the old woman, she thought--had even clutched at
Hermione's arm. The room had been full of cries.
"Ecco! Antonio!"
"Antonio is coming!"
"I have seen Antonio!"
"He is pale! He is white like death!"
"Mamma mia! But he is thin!"
"Ecco! Ecco! He comes! Here he is! Here is Antonio!"
And then the door had been opened, and on the sill a big, broad-
shouldered man had appeared, followed by several other evil-looking
though smiling men. And all the women had hurried to them. There had
been shrill cries, a babel of voices, a noise of kisses.
And Ruffo! Where had he been? What had he done?
Hermione only knew that she had head a rough voice saying:
"Sangue del Diavolo! Let me alone! Give me a glass of wine! Basta!
Basta!"
And then she went out in the street, thinking of the green parrot and
hearing the cries of the sellers, the tram-bells, and Fabiano's
questioning voice.
Pages:
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854