The Hostess Went About Uttering Ceaseless
Moans And Groans; When She Was In My Room I Heard Her Constantly
Sighing, "Ah, Signore!
Ah, Cristo!" - exclamations which, perhaps,
had some reference to my illness, but which did not cease when I
recovered.
Whether she had any private reason for depression I could
not learn; I fancy not; it was only the whimpering and querulous
habit due to low health. A female servant, who occasionally brought
me food (I found that she also cooked it), bore herself in much the
same way. This domestic was the most primitive figure of the
household. Picture a woman of middle age, wrapped at all times in
dirty rags (not to be called clothing), obese, grimy, with
dishevelled black hair, and hands so scarred, so deformed by labour
and neglect, as to be scarcely human. She had the darkest and
fiercest eyes I ever saw. Between her and her mistress went on an
unceasing quarrel: they quarrelled in my room, in the corridor, and,
as I knew by their shrill voices, in places remote; yet I am sure
they did not dislike each other, and probably neither of them ever
thought of parting. Unexpectedly, one evening, this woman entered,
stood by the bedside, and began to talk with such fierce energy,
with such flashing of her black eyes, and such distortion of her
features, that I could only suppose that she was attacking me for
the trouble I caused her. A minute or two passed before I could even
hit the drift of her furious speech; she was always the most
difficult of the natives to understand, and in rage she became quite
unintelligible.
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