“Do not cry, mamma,” she said quickly.  “I have arranged it all.  I have seen papa.  I have brought Tista’s money.  Papa wants him to stay after all.  Yes—­I know you cannot guess how it all happened.  I went in to ask about the chickens, and then I asked about Tista, and he told me that I should not see him any more, and then—­then I felt this passion—­here in the chest, and everything went round and round and round like a whirligig at the Termini, and I fell right down, mamma, down upon the bricks—­I know, my frock is all dusty still, here, look, and here, but what does it matter?  Patience!  I fell down like a sack of flour—­pata tunfate!”

“T-t-t-t!” exclaimed the Signora Pandolfi, holding up her hands and drawing in her breath as she clacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.  “T-t-t-t!  What a pity!”

“And when I came to my senses—­I had fainted, you understand—­I was sitting on the old straw chair and papa was holding my hands in his and calling me his angel! Capperi!  But it was worth while.  You can imagine the situation when he called me an angel!  It is the first time I have ever fainted, mamma—­you have no idea—­it was so curious!”

“Ah, my dear, it must have softened his heart!” cried Maria Luisa.  “If I could only faint away like that once in a while!  Who knows?  He might be converted.  But what would you have?” The signora glanced down sadly at her figure, which certainly suggested no such weakness as she seemed to desire.  “Well, Lucia,” she continued, “and then?”

“Yes, I talked to him, I implored him, I told him I should probably faint again, and, indeed, I felt like it.  So he said I might have my way, and he told me to come home and tell Tista at once.  Where is Tista?”

“Eh!  He is in his room, packing up his things.  I will go and call him.  Oh dear!  What a wonderful day this is, my child!  To think that it is not yet eleven o’clock, and all that has happened!  It is enough to make a woman crazy, fit to send to Santo Spirito.  First you are to be married, and then you are not to be married!  Then Gianbattista is sent away—­after all these years, and such a good boy!  And then he is taken back!  And then—­but the chickens, Lucia, you forgot to ask about the chickens—­”

“Not a bit of it,” answered the young girl.  “I asked first, before he told me.  Afterwards, I don’t know—­I should not have had the strength to speak of chickens.  He said roasted, mamma.  Poor Tista!  He likes them with rice.  Well, one cannot have everything in this world.”

The Signora Pandolfi had reached the door, and called out at the top of her voice to the young man.

“Tista!  Tista!” She could have been heard in the street.

“Eh, Sora Luisa!  We are not in the Piazza Navona,” said Gianbattista, appearing at the door of his little room.  “What has happened?”

“Go and talk to Lucia,” answered the good lady, hurrying off in search of Assunta to tell her the decision concerning the dinner.