ts, and
these trinkets dangled outside and over the riband of the bonnet, which
passed under her chin. In her large hands, covered with tight black
gloves, she carried a dark red parasol and a somewhat shabby little
black leather bag with steel fastenings. The stout lady's face was of
the type common among the Roman women of the lower class--very broad and
heavy, of a creamy white complexion, the upper lip shaded by a dark
fringe of down, and the deep sleepy eyes surmounted by heavy straight
eyebrows. Her hair, brought forward from under her bonnet, made smooth
waves upon her low forehead and reappeared in thick coils at the back of
her neck. Her nose was relatively small, but too thick and broad at the
nostrils, although it departed but little from the straight line of the
classic model. Altogether the Signora Pandolfi, christened Maria Luisa,
and wife to Marzio the silver-chiseller, was a portly and
pompous-looking person, who wore an air of knowing her position, and of
being sure to maintain it. Nevertheless, there was a kindly expression
in her fat face, and if her eyes looked sleepy they did not look
dishonest.

Signora Pandolfi's companion was her old maid-of-all-work, Assunta,
commonly called Suntarella, without whom she rarely stirred abroad--a
little old woman, in neat but dingy-coloured garments, with a grey
woollen shawl drawn over her head like a cowl, instead of a bonnet.

Marzio finished fastening the door, and then turned round. On seeing his
wife he remained silent for a moment, looking at her with an expression
of dissatisfied inquiry. He had not expected her.

"Well?" he ejaculated at last.

"It is dinner time," remarked the stout lady.

"Yes, I heard the gun," answered Marzio drily. "It is the same as if you
had told me," he added ironically, as he turned and led the way across
the street.

"A pretty answer!" exclaimed Maria Luisa, tossing her large head as she
followed her lord and master to the door of their house. Meanwhile
Assunta, the old servant, glanced at Gianbattista, rolled up her eyes
with an air of resignation, and spread out her withered hands for a
moment with a gesture of despair, instantly drawing them in again
beneath the folds of her grey woollen shawl.

"Gadding!" muttered Marzio, as he entered the narrow door from which the
dark steps led abruptly upwards. "Gadding--always gadding! And who minds
the soup-kettle when you are gadding, I should like to know? The cat, I
suppos