“O Santiddio! look at him,” said the woman, with a more piteous wail than ever, as she held out the small mummy, which had its head completely concealed by dingy drapery wound round the head of the portable cradle, but seemed to be struggling and crying in a demoniacal fashion under this imprisonment. “The fit is on him! Ohimè! I know what colour he is; it’s the evil eye—oh!”
The doctor, anxiously holding his knees together to support his box, bent his spectacles towards the baby, and said cautiously, “It may be a new disease; unwind these rags, Monna!”
The contadina , with sudden energy, snatched off the encircling linen, when out struggled—scratching, grinning, and screaming—what the doctor in his fright fully believed to be a demon, but what Tito recognised as Vaiano’s monkey, made more formidable by an artificial blackness, such as might have come from a hasty rubbing up the chimney.
Up started the unfortunate doctor, letting his medicine-box fall, and away jumped the no less terrified and indignant monkey,