"The Signori would descend? Luncheon? Most certainly,--their Excellencies should be served immediately--Maria! wring the neck of a chicken! Would their Excellencies eat in the common room, in the sala, with contadini? There was a most clean and _conveniente_ chamber above, where they would be much better, _non è vero_?" She bustled in ahead of them, shooing chickens as she went, and chattering volubly. They followed her through the brick-paved kitchen, gloomy, after the bright light outside. One end of it was taken up by an immense brick stove, in which were sunk numerous wells for charcoal. A large pot bubbled merrily on one of these and most savoury odours arose from a collection of copper stew-pans of all sizes. Hams, salami and bunches of herbs hung from the smoky rafters. A girl with large hoop earrings and a bright kerchief about her neck was sitting on a low stool peeling potatoes and singing lustily the song of the "_Ciociara_"--"_E quando la Ciociara si marita_"--she sang to the rollicking air. A ray of sunlight coming through the window gilded her hair and touched the coral beads on her round brown throat. Sora Nanna led the way up a stone stair to a large light upper chamber. The floor like that of the kitchen was of bare brick well scrubbed, a table stood in the centre with some straight-backed chairs. On the walls hung prints of Garibaldi, King Umberto and Queen Margherita taken at the time of their marriage, and Vittorio Emanuele II with a fierce moustache and a truculent eye. A couch stood against the wall, and in the far corner a large white bed flanked by a primitive dressing-table. Ragna shrank back, but the hostess bustled cheerfully forward. "Many _cacciatori_, Signori of Rome and _forestieri_ have I entertained here," she said, throwing open the windows. "Ah, they all know the Sora Nanna's cellar and the _frittata_. A _frittata_ with artichokes, that is what I shall give your Excellencies!" "I would rather go downstairs," whispered Ragna. "Come now," said Mirko, "you can't sit in the kitchen with the contadini! This room is clean and it will do very well." "Can't we sit outside under the pergola?" Mirko pointed to the clouds fast obscuring the sunshine. "It will be raining in a few minutes." Ragna thought it would be foolish to object further, and she tried to throw off the uneasy feeling that possessed her. "Your Excellencies shall be served in half an hour," said the hostess, as she bustled out, shaking her head at the madness of people who came out to the country when they might be enjoying the Carnival in Rome. Ragna went to one of the windows and leaned on the sill, looking out. The vetturino was leading his horses to a shed in the rear, and Maria, the girl who had been singing in the kitchen, was displaying a generous expanse of red stocking as she pursued an elusive chicken. The contadini under the arbour below made merry at her expense and praised her well-developed charms and neat ankles.