of it as a great shame; she had seen the man of the law going into the wretched cabins of the neighbours more than once, and seizing and selling the very chattels of the cupboard, the very mattress of the bed; and at such a time Joconda had always said—'they have burned their candle at both ends; they have eaten their Paschal lamb at Ognissanti; poor fools, poor knaves!'
She knew that debt had no more clung about Joconda's honest name than ill-got gold had clung about her honest fingers.
'You have got all the money she left,' said one. 'You are a brave and honest girl, Maria Penitente; you will pay me that quintale of hay for the mule———
'And my little bill for the coffee and the beans and the cheese,' said another, who kept the small pizzicheria shop by the church. 'It has run and run, goodness can tell how long, but I was never one to press; and we all knew that the old soul was safe and warm though she was niggard.'
'And there are three pairs of boots owing to my husband,' said the cobbler's wife, who had come on his errand, because he was such a poor weak white-livered
