should not see him any more, and then--then I felt this passion--here in
the chest, and everything went round and round and round like a
whirligig at the Termini, and I fell right down, mamma, down upon the
bricks--I know, my frock is all dusty still, here, look, and here, but
what does it matter? Patience! I fell down like a sack of flour--_pata
tunfate_!"

"T-t-t-t!" exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, holding up her hands and
drawing in her breath as she clacked her tongue against the roof of her
mouth. "T-t-t-t! What a pity!"

"And when I came to my senses--I had fainted, you understand--I was
sitting on the old straw chair and papa was holding my hands in his and
calling me his angel! _Capperi_! But it was worth while. You can
imagine the situation when he called me an angel! It is the first time I
have ever fainted, mamma--you have no idea--it was so curious!"

"Ah, my dear, it must have softened his heart!" cried Maria Luisa. "If I
could only faint away like that once in a while! Who knows? He might be
converted. But what would you have?" The signora glanced down sadly at
her figure, which certainly suggested no such weakness as she seemed to
desire. "Well, Lucia," she continued, "and then?"

"Yes, I talked to him, I implored him, I told him I should probably
faint again, and, indeed, I felt like it. So he said I might have my
way, and he told me to come home and tell Tista at once. Where is
Tista?"

"Eh! He is in his room, packing up his things. I will go and call him.
Oh dear! What a wonderful day this is, my child! To think that it is not
yet eleven o'clock, and all that has happened! It is enough to make a
woman crazy, fit to send to Santo Spirito. First you are to be married,
and then you are not to be married! Then Gianbattista is sent
away--after all these years, and such a good boy! And then he is taken
back! And then--but the chickens, Lucia, you forgot to ask about the
chickens--"

"Not a bit of it," answered the young girl. "I asked first, before he
told me. Afterwards, I don't know--I should not have had the strength to
speak of chickens. He said roasted, mamma. Poor Tista! He likes them
with rice. Well, one cannot have everything in this world."

The Signora Pandolfi had reached the door, and called out at the top of
her voice to the young man.

"Tista! Tista!" She could have been heard in the street.

"Eh, Sora Luisa! We are not in the Piazza Navona," said Gianbattista,
appearing at the doo