Neither bride nor bridegroom looked joyous as they came forth into the street and moved slowly toward Mulberry. Bertino’s face was particularly long. He was in a black study. Throughout his persistent courtship he had promised Juno that she should have a home in Casa Di Bello if she became his wife. Now he found himself cracking his wits to contrive a good excuse for keeping her out of his uncle’s sight. If they met she would be sure to tell him of the marriage, whereupon _inferno_ would kindle. With a wife on his hands, he would find himself homeless and out of employment, even if Di Bello’s _vendetta_ did not remove the need of earning a living. He dared not make a confidante of his wife, for to do so meant disclosure of the ugly truth that he had cheated her of the richest husband in Mulberry--of a prize which he knew she had been eager to win. His heart sank at thought of the terrible _vendetta_ that _she_ might take. He believed her capable of forsaking him and setting their union at naught. Silent of tongue and sore bestead, he moved along slowly, while passers-by eyed the majestic woman at his side. When they had reached St. Patrick’s Graveyard, and her glance fell on Casa Di Bello, she said: “Now that we are married, let us go to your uncle and tell him, so that I may move in over there. When that is done we can have the marriage before the mayor, and the wedding feast.” “Not yet,” he said; “not yet, for the love of Dio!” “Why?” she demanded. “I am as good as any one in that house.” “Oh, my precious one, it is not that; not that. Listen. There is my uncle--a good man, but strange, strange. When I told him I should take a wife he called me fool and got very angry. He said I would not do my work so well if I took a wife. But you--ah, you, my angel!--I would not give you up for all the uncles and shops in New York--yes, in all America.” “You talk nonsense,” said Juno. “Tell me why I should not live in Casa Di Bello.” “Well, it is for this, _carissima_, only this: I am afraid to tell him just now that I am married, because he said he would put me out--do you understand?--said he would put me out of the shop and Casa Di Bello if I got married. In a few weeks----” “Bah!” she said, waving a forefinger in Neapolitan fashion, meaning that she was not to be taken in. “I never believed you when you talked of Casa Di Bello. Do you think it was for that I married you?” “Wait, wait, my Juno. _Pazienza._ The day will come when you will be _padrona_ of that house.” “Enough,” she said. “I am tired of this nonsense. What are you going to do?” “Listen,” said Bertino, delighted at the success of his garbled version of Di Bello’s threat. “This is my idea: You do not like Mulberry too well, nor do I. Moreover, rents are very high here, because these animals find it hard to get in anywhere else, and the landlords rob them. But with us it is different. We, for example, are signori, are we not?” “Ah, yes; I am a signora.”