You ask whether, now that the Sisters let Dionea go and do half a day's
service now and then in the village, and that Dionea is a grown-up
creature, she does not set the place by the ears with her beauty. The
people here are quite aware of its existence. She is already dubbed
_La bella Dionea_; but that does not bring her any nearer getting
a husband, although your Excellency's generous offer of a
wedding-portion is well known throughout the district of San Massimo
and Montemirto. None of our boys, peasants or fishermen, seem to hang
on her steps; and if they turn round to stare and whisper as she goes
by straight and dainty in her wooden clogs, with the pitcher of water
or the basket of linen on her beautiful crisp dark head, it is, I
remark, with an expression rather of fear than of love. The women, on
their side, make horns with their fingers as she passes, and as they
sit by her side in the convent chapel; but that seems natural. My
housekeeper tells me that down in the village she is regarded as
possessing the evil eye and bringing love misery. "You mean," I said,
"that a glance from her is too much for our lads' peace of mind."
Veneranda shook her head, and explained, with the deference and
contempt with which she always mentions any of her country-folk's
superstitions to me, that the matter is different: it's not with her
they are in love (they would be afraid of her eye), but where-ever she
goes the young people must needs fall in love with each other, and
usually where it is far from desirable. "You know Sora Luisa, the
blacksmith's widow? Well, Dionea did a _half-service_ for her last
month, to prepare for the wedding of Luisa's daughter. Well, now, the
girl must say, forsooth! that she won't have Pieriho of Lerici any
longer, but will have that raggamuffin Wooden Pipe from Solaro, or go
into a convent. And the girl changed her mind the very day that Dionea
had come into the house. Then there is the wife of Pippo, the