portunity of weighing my words. I told her that her sou, having been acquitted in France, was at present in London, where he had been well received. The joy she expressed at this news was accompanied with exclamations of a heartfelt piety; and now, as she spoke louder and more slowly, I could understand her better.
In the meantime her daughter had come in, and had seated herself by the side of my guide, who faithfully repeated to her what I had been saying. She had tied on a clean apron, and arranged her hair under a net. The more I looked at and compared her with her mother, the more surprised I was at the difference of their persons. A lively, healthy sensibility spoke from every feature of the daughter: she was apparently about forty years old. With her cheerful blue eyes, she looked about her intelligently, without, however, my being able to trace the least symptom of suspicion. As she sat, her figure seemed to promise greater height than it showed when she stood up. Her posture bespoke determination; she sat with her body bent forward, and her hands resting on her knees. Moreover, her full, rather than sharp, profile, reminded me of the portraits of her brother, which I had seen in engravings. She asked me several questions about my travels; about my purpose in visiting Sicily; and would persuade herself that I should most assuredly come again, and keep with them the Festival of St. Rosalie.
The grandmother having in the meantime put some questions to me, the daughter, while I was busy answering them, was speaking in an undertone to my guide; so that my curiosity was stimulated to ask what they were talking about. Upon this he said, Donna Capitummino was just telling him that her brother owed her fourteen oncie. In order to facilitate his rapid departure from Palermo, she had redeemed some of his things which were in pawn; but since then she had not heard a word from him, nor received
