it," and Carlotta snaps her fingers and nods.

"_You_ know things, Carlotta? You pretend to know what happens in Casa
Guinigi? Nonsense! You are mad!"

"Am I?" retorts the other. "We shall see. Who wins boasts. I'm not so
mad, anyhow, as the marchesa, who shuts up her palace on the festival,
and offends St. Nicodemus and all the saints and martyrs," and
Carlotta's eyes flash, and her white eyebrows twitch.

"However"--and again she lays her bony hand heavily on Brigitta's fat
arm--"if you don't want to hear what I know about Casa Guinigi, I will
not tell you." Carlotta shuts up her mouth and nods defiantly.

This was not at all what Brigitta desired. If there was any thing to
be told, she would like to hear it.

"Come, come, Carlotta, don't be angry. You may know much more than
I do; you are always in your shop, except on festivals. The door is
open, and you can see into the street of San Simone, up and down. But
speak low; for there are Lisa and Cassandra close behind, and they
will hear. Tell me, Carlotta, what is it?"

Brigitta speaks very coaxingly.

"Yes," replies the old woman, "I can see both the Guinigi palaces from
my door--both the palaces. If the marchesa knew--"

"Go on, go on!" says Brigitta, nudging her. She leans forward to
listen. "Go on. People are coming out of the cathedral."