"I get so furious that I foam at the mouth--the way a dog does," said Giacobbe, raising his voice. "Just exactly like a dog. No, after all, I don't think I'll quit that house; I'll stay there if I burst, and see them when the blast of excommunication strikes them. Yes, if there is one thing that is sure, it is that God punishes both in this life and the other too, and I want to be on hand when it comes. What is that that you are making, Uncle 'Sidoro?" "A horsehair cord." There was a short silence; Giacobbe sat staring at the cord, his eyes dim with grief and anger. "What are you going to do with it when it is done?" "Sell it, over in Nuoro; I sell them here too sometimes; the peasants use them to tie their cows. What makes you look at it like that? You are not thinking of hanging yourself, are you?" "No, little spring bird, you can do that for yourself, if it is God's will. Yes," he continued, again raising his voice. "They have actually published the notice." Another silence; then Isidoro said: "Who knows? I can't help hoping yet that that marriage may never come off. I have faith in God, and I believe that San Costantino may still perform some miracle to stop it." "Why, certainly; why not? A miracle by all means!" said Giacobbe scornfully. "Yes; why not?" replied Isidoro calmly. "The real murderer of Basilio Ledda might die now, for instance, and confess. In that case the divorce could not hold good." "Of course, die just at this precise time!" said the other in the same tone as before. "You are as innocent as a three-year-old child, Isidoro, with your Christian faith!" "Well, who knows? Or he might be found out." "Why, to be sure, he might be found out! Just in the nick of time! Only what has any one ever known about it? And who is to find him out?" "Who? Why, you--I--any one." "There you go again! Just like a three-year-old child! Or, rather, a snail before it's out of the shell. And how, pray, are we to find him out? Are we even certain that Costantino did not do it himself?" "Yes, we are certain, entirely so," said Isidoro. "It might have been any one of us, but never him. I might have done it, or you----" Giacobbe got up. "Well, what can you suggest to do? If there is anything to be done, tell me." "Any one but him," repeated Uncle Isidoro, without raising his head. "Yes, there is one thing to do,--commit ourselves into the hands of God." "Oh, you make me so angry!" cried the other, stamping about the forlorn little room like an imprisoned bull. "I ask if there are any steps to be taken, and you answer like a fool. I'll go and choke Bachissia Era; that will really be something to do!" And he marched off as he had come, without greeting or salutation of any kind, angry this time in earnest. Uncle Isidoro, likewise, did not so much as raise his head, but, noticing presently that his visitor had left the door open, he got up to close it, and stood for some moments looking out.