“I’m doing just fine, thank you very much,” replied la Mottese, gripping the teeth of the comb between her thumb and index finger to remove the hair and bits of dandruff that had accumulated. “And why shouldn’t I be? He’s good, there’s no doubt about that. He’s not rich like don Calòjero or a gentleman like don Antonino, I’ll grant you, but he gives me everything I need.”

She grasped the ends of her hair and shook them lightly, as if there were dust on them; then she began combing her hair again, ever so slowly, tipping her head to the side:

“I know how men expect to be treated by women. You serve your master, and you serve him in bed, too.”

“And you brag about it!” exclaimed gna’ Basila with a smirk.

“And why not? You have to do something to get by, isn’t that true, Grace?”

Grace coughed and called Vastianedda.

“You’ve got to do something,” started up Elena again. “Everything depends on what happens. You happened to find a husband, and now you’ve got to put up with him like he is. Me, on the other hand,” and she laughed heartily, revealing brilliant white teeth between lips as red as fire, “me, whoever loves me is my husband, and whoever treats me badly … people should just mind their own business.”

Gna’ Basila would have liked to show how shocked she was but was afraid if she irritated la Motesse, who’d been in Mistretta for three years now and knew everything about everybody, something bad might happen to her. So she held back and only muttered, “Well, if that’s the way you see it, count as many as you want!”

But la Mottese, who knew everyone’s business, gave her a hard look. “There are those who count and those who don’t count.”

Vastianedda arrived running, all out of breath; she whispered something to Grace, who in turn quickly folded the shirt and got to her feet, saying, “Will you two be here for a while?”

“And why shouldn’t we?”

“Well, then, go sit a little further away.”

“What, are you holding a reception?” asked gna’ Basila, laughing.

“She’s expecting Gemello,” explained Elena, braiding her long hair. “She’s afraid we’ll steal him from her. But I have to finish combing my hair, and besides, you don’t own the street.”

“This stretch in front of my doorstep is mine.”

“Fence it off then.”