"This morning I was crazy when I offered him thirty-five lire," resumed compare Neli. "Has he found any other purchaser even at that price? I reckon not. In the whole fair there aren't more than four scabby rams and the Saint Joseph's ass. I'll give thirty lire if he'll take it."
"Take it," softly whispered the young ass's mistress to her husband, and the tears came into her eyes. "We haven't made enough this evening to buy our supper, and Turiddu has the fever again; he'll have to have quinine."
"Santo diavolone!" screamed her husband, "if you don't get away from here I'll give you a taste of this halter."
"Thirty-two and a half, there now!" cried the friend at last, giving him a powerful shake to the collar.
"Neither you nor I! This time my advice ought to hold, by all the saints in paradise! and I don't even ask for a glass of wine. Don't you see the sun is set? What is the use of you both holding out any longer?"
