Forty-seven days of fever, and nothing but bread and water! Think of that, my Nanna! Think of it! You or I would be consumed, one would not even see our shadows on the floor! But he lives." "If he eats the white beans he has finished living," remarked Nanna.
A short silence followed, during which Paoluccio seemed to be meditating, and Nanna began to ladle the beans out into four deep earthenware bowls, roughly glazed and decorated with green and brown stripes.
"You are a jewel; you are the joy of my heart," he observed thoughtfully, as Nanna placed his portion before him, covered it with oil, and scattered some chopped basil on the surface.
"Eat, my love," she said, and she cut a huge piece from a coarse loaf and placed it beside him on a folded napkin that looked remarkably clean in such surroundings, and emitted a pleasant odour of dried lavender blossoms.
"Where is the girl ?" asked Paoluccio, stirring the mess and blowing upon it.
As he spoke, the door was darkened, and the girl stood there with a large copper "conca," the water-jar of the Roman province, balanced on her head--one of the most magnificent human beings on whom the sun of the Campagna ever shone.

She was tall, and she bent her knees without moving her neck, in order to enter the door without first setting down the heavy vessel.
[Illustration: " ...

THE DOOR WAS DARKENED, AND THE GIRL STOOD THERE WITH A LARGE COPPER 'CONCA' ..."] Her thick dark hair grew low on her forehead, almost black, save for the reddish chestnut lights where a few tiny ringlets curled themselves about her small and classic ears.

Straight black eyebrows outlined the snow-white forehead, and long brown lashes shaded the fearless eyes, that looked black too.

She smiled a little, quite unconsciously, as she lowered herself with the weight and gracefully rose to her height again after she had entered.