It was past midday as the two men set off for Aunt Anna-Rosa's house. The sun, pouring down on the narrow streets, had dried the mud, and the moisture on the trees. In all directions people could be seen dispersing to their homes, and the heavy tread of the shepherds resounded on the stone pavements. Children, dressed in their Sunday-best, peeped from over tumble-down walls, and through open doors glimpses could be caught of dark interiors, with here and there a copper saucepan shining from a wall like some huge medal suspended there. Thin curls of smoke floated up through the clear atmosphere, and the music of a mouth-organ, issuing from a usually deserted courtyard, sounded as though it were coming from the bowels of the earth, where some melancholy old Fate was solacing herself. The entire village wore an unaccustomed air of gaiety, and yet this very festal look, the wide-open doors, the wreaths of smoke, the children, so ill at ease at their holiday attire, the sound of the mouth-organ, the bare, unshaded houses exposed to the full glare of the noontide sun--all combined to produce an effect of profound melancholy. Giacobbe led the way to his sister's house, and they all three dined together. The little woman, herself widowed and childless, adored her brother, and still referred to him as "my little brother." But then she loved all her kind, without distinction, and her eyes, slightly crossed, of no colour in particular, and as pure and liquid as two tiny lakes illuminated by the moon, were as innocent as the eyes of a nursing child. She knew that evil existed, but was frightened merely at the thought of men committing sin. One of the great sorrows of her life had been Giovanna's divorce and re-marriage--her own foster-child, as it were! And to think that she had actually lent them the money for the wedding outfit----! Giacobbe dearly loved to tease her. "Here's our friend Isidoro," he cried, as the party seated themselves at table. "He is thinking of getting married, and has come to consult you." "Bless me, Isidoro Pane, and are you really going to be married?" "Oh! go along, go along," said the fisherman good-humouredly. "So you don't care about marrying?" cried Giacobbe, holding a piece of roast meat in both hands, and tearing it apart with teeth that were still sound and strong. "Well, you are a dirty beast. Do you know, sister, he has lovers, all the same." "I don't believe that." "It's true, though; take me to heaven if it's not. Yes, he has lovers who suck his blood."