What would Brontu do if he knew? Poor Brontu! With all his violent temper he was such a good fellow at bottom, and so tremendously in love with Giovanna! But there it was; he was so much in love with Giovanna that he would be perfectly capable of committing some crime should he suspect her constancy. Then, what would become of him? thought Aunt Martina. "Ah, it will be far better for him to know nothing of all this trouble. I will implore Giovanna to be loyal, and not to betray her poor husband. And then--suppose, after all, I should be mistaken! Suppose she really was talking to the baby! Eh, no, no! Some one else was there, and it could have been no one but Costantino. Oh, wretched creature! accursed beggar! Is this your gratitude towards those who have fed and clothed and nourished you? But never mind, we will pay you back! We will drive you out of this house with a whip, naked as when you came into it!" And thus, torn by successive impulses of hatred, pity, fury, and despair. Aunt Martina dragged through the weary night. One significant circumstance she did recall--that Costantino was said to be on good terms with Aunt Bachissia, Giovanna's mother. Some time previously he had set to work in earnest; had rented a little shop, and was making a good deal of money by his trade of shoemaking. A repulsive thought came into the old woman's head. What if Aunt Bachissia knew and encouraged her daughter's intimacy with her first husband! "The old harpy detests us," said Brontu's mother to herself. "Perhaps Costantino makes her presents!" Daybreak found her still wide-eyed and sleepless. Getting up, she went out to examine the wall above which rose the roofs leading to Giovanna's window. Not a trace was to be found of any one having been on it. The dawn was exquisitely tranquil and beautiful; the village was still asleep, and the fields lay bathed in soft grey haze beneath a silver sky. Aunt Martina drew a deep breath; she felt as though she had awakened from a horrible dream; the utter peace and serenity of the early morning seemed to communicate itself to her distracted spirit. Then, on a sudden, happening to raise her eyes to Giovanna's window, she saw the young woman watching her. Instantly the conviction flashed across her that she too had lain awake the entire night; that she too was looking now to see if any tell-tale traces remained to betray the fact that she had had a visitor, and more than that, that she now was fully aware of Aunt Martina's suspicions. Across the space that divided them, the two women exchanged a look of mutual fear and hatred. War was declared! * * * * *