too, had
often sought out Ruffo.

Gaspare and Ruffo were near it. Almost directly he saw their forms,
relieved against the dimness but not deep darkness of the night, and
heard their voices talking. As he went towards them Gaspare was speaking
vehemently. He threw up one arm in a strong, even, and excited gesture,
and was silent. Then Artois heard Ruffo say, in a voice that, though
respectful and almost deprecatory, was yet firm like a man's:

"I cannot take it away, Gaspare. When I go home my mamma will ask me if
I have put it in the house."

"Dio mio!" cried Gaspare. "But you have put it in the house! Is it not
there--is it not there now to bring death upon the Signora, upon the
Signorina, upon us all?"

"It was made for Peppina. My mamma made it only against Peppina, because
she has brought evil into our house. It will hurt only Peppina! It will
kill only Peppina!"

He spoke now with a vehemence and passion almost equal to Gaspare's.
Artois stood still. They did not see him. They were absorbed in their
conversation.

"It will not hurt the Signora or the Signorina. The _fattura della
morte_--it is to harm Peppina. Has she not done us injury? Has she not
taken my Patrigno from my mamma? Has she not made him mad? Is it not for
her that he has been in prison, and that he has left my mamma without a
soldo in the house? The Signora--she has been good to me and my mamma.
It is she who sent my mamma money--twenty lire! I respect the Signora
as I respect my mamma. Only to-day, only this very day she came to
Mergellina, she came to see my mama. And when she knew that my Patrigno
was let out of prison, when I cried out at the door that he was coming,
the Signora was so glad for us that she looked--she looked--Madre di
Dio! She was all white, she was shaking--she was worse than my poor
mamma. And when I came to her, and when I called out, 'Signora!
Signora!' you should have seen! She opened her eyes! She gave me such
a look! And then my Patrigno came in at the door, and the Signora--she
went away. I was going to follow her, but she put out her hand--so, to
make me stay--she wanted me to stay with my mamma. And she went down the
stairs all trembling because my Patrigno was let out of prison. Per dio!
She has a good heart. She is an angel. For the Signora I would die. For
the Signora I would do anything! I--you say I would kill the Signora!
Would I kill my mamma? Would I kill the Madonna? La Bruna--would I
kill her? To me