"Like a _cat_?" echoed Margherita setting her teeth and twisting her little nose; "dear me! dear me! It would be better he died." The maid came back, bringing the soup. Anania could not say another word. He took the bowl and moved away carrying it carefully. He was near crying and when he came up with Bustianeddu at the turn of the street, he repeated the words "It would be better he died." "Who? Is the broth hot? I'm going to taste," said Bustianeddu, putting his face to the bowl. Anania was furious. "Get away! You're wicked. You'll get like Efès Cau! What did you steal that money for? It's a mortal sin, to steal. Go and get the money and put it back in the drawer." "Pouf! Are you gone mad?" "Well then I'll tell my _mother_." "Your _mother_! That's good! Go and find your mother!" They were walking very slowly. Anania much afraid of spilling the soup. "We are _thieves_!" he whispered. "The money is _my_ father's, and you're a ninny. Well! I'll go away alone, _alone_," replied Bustianeddu energetically. "All right, go, and never come back," said Anania, "but I shall tell--Aunt Tatàna!" He was afraid to call her his mother again. "Sneak!" burst out Bustianeddu doubling his fist; "if you tell I'll kill you like a lizard. I'll smash your teeth with a stone. I'll gouge out your eyes!" Anania still afraid for the soup, bent his shoulders to receive the violence of his friend, but he did not withdraw the threat of telling Aunt Tatàna. "What devil did you meet in that courtyard," continued the other furiously, "what did that horrid maid say to you? Speak!" "She didn't say anything. But I don't wish to be a thief." "You're a bastard anyhow! That's what you are! Well I shall go off at once, with the money, and without you." He went away running, leaving Anania overwhelmed with grief. A thief, a bastard, a foundling, and now left behind by his friend. It was too much, too much! He began to cry and his tears fell into the soup. "When, when shall I be able to go?" he sobbed, "when shall I be able to find _her_?" "When I'm grown up," he answered himself, more cheerfully, "for the present--it can't be helped." Having given the soup to Aunt Tatàna, he went to the stable window. Silence. No one was to be seen, nothing was to be heard, in the great garden, damp and moonlit. The mountains showed faintly blue against the vaporous heaven. All was silence and peace. Suddenly from the mill came the voice of Bustianeddu. "Then he hasn't gone? he hasn't taken the money? He hasn't been into the garden? Suppose I go myself?" But his courage was not equal to this. He went into the mill and hovered round Aunt Tatàna who was ministering to Efès. She asked him her usual question. "What's the matter with you? Have you the stomachache?" "Yes! Do let us go in," said Anania. She saw the child wanted to speak to her and she took him home.