"Checco says--Checco is a shoemaker, and he knows the daughter of the
man who helps the butler in Casa Guinigi--Checco says she laughs at
the Holy Countenance. Domine Dio! what an infamy!" cries Carlotta, in
a cracked voice, raising her skinny hands and shaking them in the air.
"I hate the Guinigi! I hate her! I spit on her, I curse her!"

There is such venom in Carlotta's looks and in Carlotta's words that
Brigitta suddenly takes her eyes off a man with a red waistcoat whom
she is ogling, but who by no means reciprocates her attention, and
asks Carlotta sharply, "Why she hates the marchesa?"

"Listen," answers Carlotta, holding up her finger. "One day, as I came
out of my little shop, _she_"--and Carlotta points with her thumb
over her shoulder toward the street of San Simone and the Guinigi
Palace--"_she_ was driving along the street in her old Noah's Ark of
a carriage. Alas! I am old and feeble, and the horses came along
quickly. I had no time to get into the little square of San Barnabo,
out of the way; the wheel struck me on the shoulder, I fell down. Yes,
I fell down on the hard pavement, Brigitta." And Carlotta sways her
grizzly head from side to side, and grasps the other's arm so tightly
that Brigitta screams. "Brigitta, the marchesa saw me. She saw me
lying there, but she never stopped nor turned her head. I lay on the
stones, sick and very sore, till a neighbor, Antonio the carpenter,
who works in the little square, a good lad, picked me up and carried
me home."

As she speaks, Carlotta's eyes glitter like a serpent's. She shakes
all over.

"Lord have mercy!" exclaims Brigitta, looking hard at her; "that was