“As sure as that I like meat, and only get it on Sundays.—­Sure?—­I have seen it with my own eyes.  Checco knows the granddaughter of the man who helps the cook—­Nobili pays like a lord, as he is!—­He spends his money, he does!—­Nobili writes to the niece, and she answers.  Listen.  To-day, the marchesa shut up her palace and put a chain on the door.  But chains can be unloosed, locks broken.  Enrica (that’s the niece) at daybreak comes out to the arched gate-way that opens from the street into the Moorish garden at the farther side of the palace—­she comes out and talks to Nobili for half an hour, under cover of the ivy that hangs over the wall on that side.  Teresa, the maid, was there too, but she stood behind.  Nobili wore a long cloak that covered him all over; Enrica had a thick veil fastened round her head and face.  They didn’t see me, but I watched them from behind Pietro’s house, at the corner of the street opposite.  First of all, Enrica puts her head out of the gate-way.  Teresa puts hers out next.  Then Enrica waves her hand toward the palace opposite, a side-door opens piano, Nobili appears, and watches all round to see that no one is near—­ha! ha! his young eyes didn’t spy out my old ones though, for all that—­Nobili appears, I say, then he puts his hand to his heart, and gives such a look across the street!—­Ahi! it makes my old blood boil to see it.  I was pretty once, and liked such looks.—­You may think my eyes are dim, but I can see as far as another.”

And the old hag chuckles spitefully, and winks at Brigitta, enjoying her surprise.

“Madre di Dio!” exclaims this one.  “There will be fine work.”

“Yes, truly, very fine work.  The marchesa shall know it; all Lucca shall know it too—­mark my words, all Lucca!  Curses on the Guinigi root and branch!  I will humble them!  Curses on them!” mumbles Carlotta.

“And what did Nobili do?” asks Brigitta.

“Do?—­Why, seeing no one, he came across and kissed Enrica’s hand; I saw it.  He made as if he would have knelt upon the stones, only she would not let him.  Then they whispered for, as near as I can guess, half an hour—­Teresa standing apart.  There was the sound of a cart then coming along the street, and presto!—­Enrica was within the garden in an instant, the gate was closed, and Nobili disappeared.”

Any further talk is now cut short by the approach of Cassandra, a friend of Brigitta’s.  Cassandra is a servant in a neighboring eating-house, a tall, large-boned woman, a colored handkerchief tied over her head, and much tawdry jewelry about her hands and neck.

“What are you two chattering about?” asks Cassandra sharply.  “It seems entertaining.  What’s the news?  I get paid for news at my shop.  Tell me directly.”

“Lotta here was only relating to me all about her grandchild,” answers Brigitta, with a whine.—­Brigitta was rather in dread of Cassandra, whose temper was fierce, and who, being strong, knocked people down occasionally if they offended her.