taking it.

She looked round the room again. It was clean and well kept, but humbly
furnished. Ruffo's bed was rolled up in a corner. On the walls were some
shields of postcards and photographs, such as the poor Italians love,
deftly enough arranged and fastened together by some mysterious not
apparent means. Many of the postcards were American. Near two small
flags, American and Italian, fastened crosswise above the head of the
big bed, was a portrait of Maria Addolorata, under which burned a tiny
light. A palm, blessed, and fashioned like a dagger with a cross for the
hilt, was nailed above it, with a coral charm to protect the household
against the evil eye. And a little to the right of it was a small object
which Hermione saw and wondered at without understanding why it should
be there, or what was its use--a _Fattura della morte_ (death-charm), in
the form of a green lemon pierced with many nails. This hung by a bit of
string to a nail projecting from the wall.

From the death-charm Hermione turned her eyes to Maddalena.

She saw a woman who was surely not very much younger than herself, with
a broad and spreading figure, wide hips, plump though small-boned arms,
heavy shoulders. The face--that, perhaps--yes, that, certainly--must
have been once pretty. Very pretty? Hermione looked searchingly at
it until she saw Maddalena's eyes drop before hers suddenly, as if
embarrassed. She must say something. But now that she was here she felt
a difficulty in opening a conversation, an intense reluctance to speak
to this woman into whose house she had almost forced her way. With the
son she was strangely intimate. From the mother she felt separated by a
gulf.

And that fear of hers?

She looked again round the room. Had that fear increased or diminished?
Her eyes fell on Maria Addolorata, then on the _Fattura della morte_.
She did not know why, but she was moved to speak about it.

"You have nice rooms here," she said.

"Si, Signora."

Maddalena had rather a harsh voice. She spoke politely, but
inexpressively.

"What a curious thing that is on the wall!"

"Signora?"

"It's a lemon, isn't it? With nails stuck through it?"

Maddalena's broad face grew a dusky red.

"That is nothing, Signora!" she said, hastily.

She looked greatly disturbed, suddenly went over to the bed, unhooked
the string from the nail, and put the death-charm into her pocket. As
she came back she looked at Hermione with defiance in her eye