"It would have been better for her to stay away," said Bustianeddu, lying on his face, his legs in the air. "My father was ready to kill her; but he takes it more quietly now." "Have you seen her?" "Of course I have. My father doesn't like me to visit her, but, of course, I go. She's grown stout. She's dressed like a lady: I didn't recognize her. The devil!" "You didn't recognize her?" exclaimed Anania, surprised and thinking of his own mother. Ah, he would know _her_ at once! Then he thought-- "She will be dressed like that too, and her hair in the fashion. Oh God--oh God--what will she be like?" Her face eluded him, he was bewildered, confused, then tried to console himself trusting to his instinct. "I should know her--I'm sure I should," he thought passionately. "Why has your mother come back?" he asked Bustianeddu once. "Why? Because this is her own town. She was working at a dressmaker's in Turin. She got tired of it and came home." There was a pause. Neither of the lads believed in the dressmaker at Turin, but they accepted the story. Anania even said-- "Then your father aught to make it up with her." "No," said Bustianeddu, defending his father, "he's quite right. You see there was no necessity for her to go away, and work for her living!" "Your father works himself. What's the shame of working?" "My father keeps a shop," corrected the other. "Well, what's she going to do now? And which of them will you live with?" "Don't know," said Bustianeddu. Daily, however, the stories became more interesting. "No end of people come to my father to beg him to forgive her. Even our member of parliament! Grand-mother came yesterday. She said, 'Jesus forgave the Magdalen; remember, my son, that we are all born to die, and it's only our good deeds we can carry over there. Look at the condition of your house! Only the rats are at home in it.'" "What did your father say?" "He went away," said Bustianeddu with great indignation; "of course he went away!--for shame!" Next day he related. "Even Aunt Tatàna has begun to meddle. She preaches long sermons. She said to my father, 'Fancy you are taking a friend as a guest. Oh, do take her! She's penitent. She will reform. If you won't take her back, who knows what will become of her! King Solomon had seventy women in his house, and he was the wisest man in the world!'" "What did your father say." "Hard as a stone. He said it was the women who made King Solomon foolish." The skin-dealer never relented. His wife lived at the far side of the town near the school. She wore the costume again; but slightly altered, slightly embellished with tags and ribbons. Her dress proclaimed her a woman of equivocal character. The husband did not forgive, and she continued her own life.