"Say it right out!" shouted Giacobbe. "You may be my heir; that's what you mean! Ha, ha, ha!" He laughed boisterously, emitting sounds that were more like the howls of a wild beast than human laughter. Brontu, trying to imitate him, only succeeded in producing a noise like the cry of some happy animal in the springtime. Giovanna felt herself grow sick with dread; she was afraid of the rapidly approaching darkness, of the solitude that enwrapped the common, of the presence of these two men whom wine had turned into quarrelsome beasts. "The excommunication," she thought, "has fallen on us all: on this servant, who dares to defy his master; on the son, who upbraids his mother; on me, Giovanna, who loathe and despise them one and all!" Aunt Martina arose, went into the kitchen, and lit the candle. Giovanna followed her and set about preparing the supper. When it was ready they all sat down together, and for a little while everything went well. Presently Brontu began to tell of how they had watched the procession from the windows of Giacobbe's "palace," his account of their foolish doings bringing a smile to his mother's lips. Then he tried to put his arm around his wife, but Giovanna's heart was full of gall. For her the holiday had been, if anything, sadder than an ordinary day; she had worked hard, she had not been to church, she had not so much as changed her dress; and yet, the moment she had allowed herself to go for a little recreation to the cottage,--the scene alike of her greatest misery and of her most intense happiness,--she had been ordered back as peremptorily as a dog is told to return to its kennel. Consequently, she was in no mood for endearments, and repulsed Brontu's proffered caress, telling him he was drunk. Giacobbe, thereupon, laughed delightedly, which irritated Giovanna as much as it angered Brontu. "What are you laughing at, you mangy cur?" demanded the latter. "I might say I am not as mangy as you are yourself. But then, I--I want to say that--that--well, I'm laughing because I choose to." "Eh! I can laugh too." "Fools!" said Giovanna scornfully. "You make me sick, both of you." At this Brontu, quite beside himself, suddenly turned on her: "What is the matter with you, anyhow?" he demanded in a hard voice. "One would really like to know. Here you are, living on me, and when I offer to kiss you you fly out at me. You ought to be thankful to kiss the very ground under my feet; do you hear me?" Giovanna grew livid. "What!" she hissed. "Am I treated any better than a servant in this house?" "Well, a servant; all right, you can just stay one. What else should you be, woman?"