She frowned over it.
'_Scomunicato!_' said the _carabiniere_, with a laugh.
'Excommunicated ?' She felt a thrill of pity, mingled with a vague horror.
'Why ?--what has he done ?' The _carabiniere_ laughed again.

The laugh was odious, but she was already acquainted with that strange instinct of the lower-class Italian which leads him to make mock of calamity.

He has passion, but no sentiment; he instinctively hates the pathetic.
'_Chi sa, Signorina ?_ He seems a quiet old man.

We keep a sharp eye on him; he won't do any harm.

He used to give the children _confetti_, but the mothers have forbidden them to take them.