"We will give you sheep and cows," he began, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. "Yes, every herdsman will give you a _pecus_,[9] and if there is anything you need, just say so; are we not all brothers and sisters in this world, and especially in a small community like this?" Costantino, thinking of the treatment he had received at the hands of his "brothers and sisters" of this particular small community, shook his head. "Yes," he said; "my brothers have treated me as Cain treated Abel; it would take a good deal more than sheep and cows to make it up to me." "Oh, well! that has nothing to do with it," replied the syndic, absorbed in his idea. "You have travelled; tell me now, have you never stood on the top of some high mountain, and looked down on the villages scattered about in the plain below? Well, didn't they seem to you like so many houses, each with its little family living inside?" Costantino, who was tired of the conversation, merely replied that all he wanted was to leave this village and never come back to it again. "Oh, no! You mustn't do that!" urged the other. "Where would you go? No, no; you must stay here, where we are all brothers." The next to arrive was Doctor Puddu, carrying a large, dirty, grey umbrella. He at once peered into the earthenware saucepan to see what was cooking. "You are all degenerates, every one of you," he announced in his harsh voice, rapping the saucepan with his umbrella. "And I'll tell you the reason: it's because you will eat pork." "Don't break the saucepan, please," said Uncle Isidoro. "And I beg your pardon, but that is not pork; it's beans, and bacon, and sausage." "Well, isn't bacon pork? You're all pigs. Well----," turning to Costantino. "And so, good sheep, you've come back? I saw him die--what's his name?--Giacobbe Dejas. He died a miserable death, as he deserved to. You had better take a purgative to-morrow; it's absolutely necessary after a sea voyage." Costantino looked at him without speaking. "You think I'm crazy?" shouted the doctor, going close to him, and shaking his umbrella. "A purgative! do you understand? A purgative!" "I heard you," said Costantino. "Oh, so much the better! Well, I've heard that _you_ say you want to go away. Go-o-o----! Go, by all means. Go to the devil. But first of all, go to the cemetery, go to that dunghill you call a cem-e-te-ry; and dig and scratch like a dog, and tear up Giacobbe Dejas's bones, and gnaw them." He ground his teeth as though he were crunching bones; it was both grotesque and horrible, and Costantino could do nothing but stare at him in utter amazement.