Carlotta raises her head and grins, showing the few black teeth left
in her mouth. "Are they? Well, answer me. Who lives in the street
there--the street of San Simone--as well as the marchesa? Who has
a fine palace that the marchesa sold him, a palace on which he has
spent--ah! so much, so much? Who keeps open house, and has a French
cook, and fine furniture, and new clothes, and horses in his stable,
and six carriages? Who?--who?" As old Carlotta puts these questions
she sways her body to and fro, and raises her finger to her nose.

"Who is strong, and square, and fair, and smooth?" "Who goes in and
out with a smile on his face? Who?--who?"

"Why, Nobili, of course--Count Nobili. We all know that," answered
Brigitta, impatiently. "That's no news. But what has Nobili to do with
the marchesa?"

"What has he to do with the marchesa? Listen, Madama Brigitta. I will
tell you. Do you know that, of all gentlemen in Lucca, the marchesa
hates Nobili?"

"Well, and what then?"

"She hates him because he is rich and spends his money freely, and
because she--the Guinigi--lives in the same street and sees it. It
turns sour upon her stomach, like milk in a thunder-storm. She hates
him."

"Well, is that all?" interrupts Brigitta.