frames. Two large beds, without curtains, stood I against one wall; while a brown press, which had the shape of an escritoire, was placed against the opposite one. Old chairs, with rush bottoms, the backs of which seemed to have once been gilded, stood on each side of it; while the bricks of the floors were in many places sunk deep below the level. In other respects, everything was clean and tidy; and we made our way toward the family, who were gathered around the only large window at the other end of the room.
While my guide was explaining to the old widow Balsamo, who sat in the corner, the cause of our visit, and, in consequence of the deafness of the good old woman, had frequently to repeat his words, I had time to observe the room and the rest of its occupants. A young girl about sixteen years of age, well grown, whose features, however, the smallpox had robbed of all expression, was standing at the window; by her side a young man, whose unpleasant countenance, sadly disfigured by the smallpox, also struck me. In an armchair, opposite the window, sat, or rather reclined, a sick and sadly deformed person, who seemed to be afflicted with a sort of torpor.
When my guide had made himself understood, they insisted on our being seated. The old woman put some questions to me; which I required to have interpreted before I could answer them, as I was not very familiar with the Sicilian dialect.
I was pleased with the examination, which, during this conversation, I made of the old woman. She was of middle size, but of a good figure; over her regular features an expression of calmness was diffused, which people usually enjoy who are deprived of hearing; the tone of her voice was soft and agreeable.
I answered her questions; and my answers had, in their turn, to be interpreted to her.
The slowness of such a dialogue gave me an op-
