Don Pietro Casale has
been seen to sweep his pig with a broken willow broom, after it has
rained.
"Do you take him for a Christian?" asked his neighbour, in amazement, on
the occasion.
"No," answered Don Pietro gravely. "He is certainly not a Christian. But
why should he spoil the tablecloth with his muddy hog's back when my
guests are at their meals? He is always running under the table for the
scraps."
"And what are women for, except to wash tablecloths?" inquired the
neighbour contemptuously.
But he got no answer. Few people ever get more than one from Don Pietro
Casale, whose eldest son is doing well at Buenos Ayres, and in whose
house the postmaster takes his meals now that he is a widower.
For Don Pietro and his wife Donna Concetta sell their own wine and keep
a cook-shop, besides a guest-room with a garret above it, and two beds,
with an old-fashioned store of good linen in old-fashioned iron-bound
chests. At the time of the fair they can put up a dozen or fourteen
guests. People say indeed that the place is not so well managed, nor the
cooking so good since poor Carmela died, the widow of Ruggiero dei Figli
del Re--Roger of the Children of the King.
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