had to go back to his work at the _albergo_, and I had to
take up my sewing again. It seemed so strange to be sitting down to work
in my own house, and to look across the Arno at the great _albergo_ and
think that I had a husband there. Luigi could not come home as often as
he longed to do, because he had but two free nights in the week. And he
dared scarcely look out of the window, for fear some one should suspect
that he was married, and then he would have lost his place. However,
everything went well. We have been married eight years now, and, what
with Luigi's fifty francs a month, and the _incerti_ [_pour-boires_] and
my work, we do pretty well. Luigi, thank God, is a good man, faithful
and true and kind. I have never heard an angry word from him yet. And
then he has no faults,--he does not smoke, or drink wine, or gamble; and
regularly every month he brings me all his money to take care of. He is
such a good son to La Mamma, too. He would never take a mouthful of food
until he had helped her; and if a famine came to Florence, and there was
but a piece of bread between Luigi and La Mamma, he would make her eat
it, I know. Si, signora, we all live together now; La Mamma takes care
of our little boy, and Flavia is head-woman in Madama Castagna's
workroom, while I go out by the day, as I always did. It is a little
harder for us this winter than usual, because there are so few
_forestieri_. It really seemed as if the _alberghi_ would never open.
Luigi said that every evening there would be a crowd of people--waiters,
and _facchini_, and so on--waiting at the door of the _albergo_ and
begging for work. And the _padrone_ [landlord] used to say, "Find me the
_forestieri_, and I'll find you the work." My Luigi is such a good
servant that the _padrone_ keeps him employed all the year round; but he
felt very anxious this winter when he saw how few _forestieri_ there
were, and tried to save in every possible way. But, thank God, he never
grudges La Mamma anything, and she often says that these are her
happiest days. She still works at knitting stockings, and braiding
straw, and such light work; and she takes our baby boy out to walk twice
a day, and every day at noon, rain or shine, she goes to mass. Many a
quiet hour she has now in church to pray for Babbo, whom she never
forgets, and for all of us. Then when we all come home from our work we
have such pleasant evenings. I tell about the fine gowns I make for my
ladies, and Lu