neighborhood well-nigh impossible. The people associate her somehow
with the death of Father Domenico, which has confirmed her reputation
of having the evil eye. She left the convent (being now seventeen) some
two months back, and is at present gaining her bread working with the
masons at our notary's new house at Lerici: the work is hard, but our
women often do it, and it is magnificent to see Dionea, in her short
white skirt and tight white bodice, mixing the smoking lime with her
beautiful strong arms; or, an empty sack drawn over her head and
shoulders, walking majestically up the cliff, up the scaffoldings with
her load of bricks.... I am, however, very anxious to get Dionea out of
the neighborhood, because I cannot help dreading the annoyances to
which her reputation for the evil eye exposes her, and even some
explosion of rage if ever she should lose the indifferent contempt with
which she treats them. I hear that one of the rich men of our part of
the world, a certain Sor Agostino of Sarzana, who owns a whole flank of
marble mountain, is looking out for a maid for his daughter, who is
about to be married; kind people and patriarchal in their riches, the
old man still sitting down to table with all his servants; and his
nephew, who is going to be his son-in-law, a splendid young fellow, who
has worked like Jacob, in the quarry and at the saw-mill, for love of
his pretty cousin. That whole house is so good, simple, and peaceful,
that I hope it may tame down even Dionea. If I do not succeed in
getting Dionea this place (and all your Excellency's illustriousness
and all my poor eloquence will be needed to counteract the sinister
reports attaching to our poor little waif), it will be best to accept
your suggestion of taking the girl into your household at Rome, since
you are curious to see what you call our baleful beauty. I am amused,
and a little indignant at what you say about your footmen being
handsome: Don Juan himself, my dear Lady Evelyn, would be cowed by
Dionea....