The fisherman's kitchen looked like one of those pictures of Flemish interiors, where the figures are thrown out in a ruddy glow against a dark background. By the uncertain light, a grey spider-web could be dimly discerned, with the spider in the middle; in the corner near the hearth, a glass jug filled to the brim with water in which black leeches swam about; a yellow basket against the wall; and finally the figures of the two men and the black hair cord, its loose ends held between the bony, red fingers of the old fisherman. "And how goes it now?" asked Giacobbe. "How goes it now? How does it go now?" repeated the old man. "I don't know." "Well, it's been published," said Giacobbe more as though he were talking to himself. "The thing is actually done! The drunkard never even came near the pastures to-day, so I just took myself off as well. They may steal his sheep if they want to; I don't care; here I am, and something has got to be done, Isidoro Pane! Hi! Isidoro Pane! leave that cord alone and listen to me. Some--thing--has--got--to--be--done----Do you hear me?" "Yes, I hear you; but what is there to do? We have done all we can--implored, expostulated, threatened----The syndic has interfered, the clerk. Priest Elias----" "Oh, Priest Elias! What did he do? Talked to them with sugar in his mouth! He should have threatened them; he should have said: 'I'll take the Holy Books and I'll curse you! I'll excommunicate you; you shall never be able to satisfy your hunger, nor to quench your thirst, nor to have any peace; you shall live in a hell upon earth!' Ah, then you would have seen some result! But no, he is a dunce--a warm-milk priest; and he has not done his duty. Don't speak of him to me, it makes me angry." Isidoro laid down the cord: "It's of no use to get angry," said he. "Priest Elias has no business with threats, and he has not used them; but never fear, excommunication will fall on that house all the same!" "Well, I am going to leave them; yes, I am going away. I'll eat no more of their accursed bread!" said Giacobbe with a look expressive of his loathing and disgust. "But before going, I should like to have the pleasure of administering a sound thrashing to those favourites of the devil." "You are crazy, little spring bird," said Isidoro with a melancholy smile, imitating Giacobbe. "Yes, I am, I'm crazy; but even so, what do you care? You haven't done anything either to stop this sacrilege. Oh, it's disgraceful! I've lost all my good spirits----" "It has made me ten years older." "All my good spirits, and I keep thinking all the time of what Costantino will say to us for not being able to put a stop to it. Is it true that he is ill?" "Not now; he was ill, but now he is only desperate," said Uncle Isidoro, shaking his head. Then he picked up the cord and began plaiting it again, murmuring below his breath: "Excommunicate--excommunicate----"