Carlotta puts up her chin close to Brigitta's face, and clasps her
tightly by the shoulder with both her skinny hands. "That is not all.
The marchesa has her own niece, who lives with her--a doll of a girl,
with a white face--puff! not worth a feather to look at; only a cousin
of the marchesa's husband; but, she's the only one left, all the same.
They are so thin-blooded, the Guinigi, they have come to an end. The
old woman never had a child; she would have starved it."

Carlotta lowers her voice, and speaks into Brigitta's ear. "Nobili
loves the niece. The marchesa would have the carbineers out if she
knew it."

"Oh!" breaks from Brigitta, under her breath. "This is fine! splendid!
Are you sure of this, Carlotta? quite sure?"

"As sure as that I like meat, and only get it on Sundays.--Sure?--I
have seen it with my own eyes. Checco knows the granddaughter of the
man who helps the cook--Nobili pays like a lord, as he is!--He spends
his money, he does!--Nobili writes to the niece, and she answers.
Listen. To-day, the marchesa shut up her palace and put a chain on
the door. But chains can be unloosed, locks broken. Enrica (that's the
niece) at daybreak comes out to the arched gate-way that opens
from the street into the Moorish garden at the farther side of the
palace--she comes out and talks to Nobili for half an hour, under
cover of the ivy that hangs over the wall on that side. Teresa, the
maid, was there too, but she stood behind. Nobili wore a long cloak
that covered him all over; Enrica had a thick veil fastened round
her head and face. They didn't see me, but I watched them from behind
Pietro's house, at the corner of the street opposite. First of all,
Enrica puts her head out of the gate-way. Teresa puts hers out next.