"Absolutely certain. For three months now, as I told you, I have hardly closed my eyes. One night I heard some one talking to Giovanna. She saw right away that I had noticed something, and for a while she was on her guard. But now--now she has thrown aside all prudence. The other day they met at Bachissia Era's cottage; I saw them plainly; and not only that, I heard them; I listened at the door. Then, last night he was with her again; do you understand? actually in my house, beneath my roof! And I--I was trembling so with rage I hardly knew what I was about; but I waited for him below; I was going to speak to him, and then I was going to stab him--kill him, if I could--I had a knife ready in my hand. But do you know, I could not stir a limb! I could not even open my lips when he crept down as stealthily as a thief, first on to the roof, and then the ground, and away! Ah, I am nothing but a poor old woman; I can't do a thing. I was just frightened, and I hid. Giovanna knows that I care more for Brontu than for anything else in the world, and that I would sacrifice everything to spare him, even the honour of our name. And so the ungrateful creature is taking advantage of the tenderest feeling that I have. She is counting on my being afraid to tell him for fear that he will commit murder, and so be ruined forever, and that is why she dares to carry it on. But I--I--Isidoro, I will be capable of doing almost anything if Costantino does not break this off. Tell him so." "But why don't you speak to Giovanna?" asked the fisherman. "Because--well, I'm afraid of her. She follows me about and watches me all the time like a tigress ready to spring. She hates me, just as I hate her at times; and at the very first word she would fly at me and choke me to death. I don't dare to open my mouth. Oh, it is all so horrible! You don't know what days I pass! Death would be far less bitter than the life I am leading." As she spoke these words, Aunt Martina buried her face in her hands and began to sob. A feeling of intense pity rose in the old fisherman's heart. In the days of his most grinding poverty he had never been reduced to tears, and to think of the rich, proud Martina Dejas being actually more wretched than an old pauper like himself! "I will do my very best," he said. "Now go, and try not to worry. You had better get off at once, though; it is time for _him_ to be coming back." She got up, wrapped the petticoat carefully around her head and shoulders, and when Isidoro had looked out to make sure that no one was about who might recognise her, walked slowly away.