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At the present time the room was rented by the Englishman concerning whom the discussion had arisen between Annetta and her mother. Angus Dalrymple, M.D., was not an Englishman, as he had tried to explain to Sora Nanna, though without the least success. He was, as his name proclaimed, a Scotchman of the Scotch, and a doctor of medicine.
The following morning Sora went out again with his sumpitan, but chased all day without meeting an animal, so he took one root of a water-plant called keladi, as well as one fruit called pangin, and went home. The keladi was roasted, but the fruit it was not necessary to prepare. They then sat down to eat, but could not satisfy their hunger, and Iyu was angry and asked why he brought so little.
Iyu said: "I have no spear, nor parang, but I will kill that antoh." And the big pig he had eaten and all the roots and all the fruits that he had been feeding on, an immense quantity of faeces, he dropped on Amenaran's head, and it killed him. Iyu returned home and told Sora that he had put Amenaran to death.
"I did not bring more," Sora answered, "because it is probable the owner would have been angry if I had." Iyu said: "Tomorrow I shall bring plenty."
It was already late in the afternoon and Iyu, whose duty it was to fetch the pig, waited until next day, when he went away to bring it in, but instead he ate it all by himself, and then returned to the hut and told Sora what he had done. It was now late in the evening and they both went to sleep.
The Romans being engaged on the siege of Sora, a troop of horse a sally from the town to attack their camp; when the Roman master of the knights advancing with his own horsemen to give them battle, it so chanced that, at the very first onset, the leaders on both sides were slain.
She did not care to let her mother know anything about it, for Sora Nanna would scold her. It would be a simple matter to catch the Scotchman at his door, to get what she wanted from him with an easily given promise of secrecy, and then to come downstairs as though nothing had happened.
Four young men of the richest and noblest families of Rome accompanied them with that Italian freedom which has not its parallel in any other country in the world. They were attired as peasants of Albano, Velletri, Civita-Castellana, and Sora. We need hardly add that these peasant costumes, like those of the young women, were brilliant with gold and jewels.
Gloomy and preoccupied, without even a book before him, Dalrymple sat with his back to the wall, drinking his wine in silence, and staring at the lamp. Sora Nanna asked him whether he had seen Annetta. He shook his head without speaking. The woman observed that the girls were quite capable of spending a second night at Civitella to prolong the festivities. Dalrymple nodded, not caring at all.
The girl stared hard at Dalrymple, and her mouth laughed wickedly at his evident embarrassment, while there was something very different from laughter in her eyes. During the long speech, Sora Nanna had stopped knitting, and she looked from her daughter to the Scotchman with a sort of half-stupid, half-cunning curiosity. "But these are sins!" she exclaimed at last.
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