The Italians | Page 9

with the red waistcoat. Carlotta sees this, watching her out
of her deep-set, glassy eyes. Speak Carlotta will, and Brigitta shall
listen, she was determined.
"I could tell you things"--she lowers her voice and speaks into the
other's ear--"things--horrors--about Casa Guinigi!"
Brigitta starts. "Gracious! You frighten me! What things?"
"Ah, things that would make your hair stand on end. It is I who say 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."
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.
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