large satin eyelet in the middle, to which the hair was fastened. And some of the "wigs" were golden in colour, some ash-blonde, some rust-coloured, some of that fiery hue known as titian; and some were curly, others wavy, others yet adorned with ringlets, like the hair of a little girl. The girls were carrying on a lively discussion, uttering shrill cries, and as they talked they stroked those strange "wigs," passing them from one hand to the other.
They were a comely pair, those two girls. The darkness of their complexions was concealed beneath a thick layer of paint and snow-white powder, which made their faces stand out in relief against their necks, like chalk masks. Their hair was curly and lustrous, and of a yellowish colour which indicated the use of peroxide, but its roots, which could be glimpsed beneath the tinsel of the false gold, were black, as also were their eyebrows. Black too was the down which was visible here and there on their faces. Grey under the sprinkling of powder, it was thicker and darker on the upper lip and continued thus along the jawbone as far as the ears, at which point it suddenly assumed the colour of flax, blending with the false gold of the hair. The girls' eyes were bright and very dark, and though their lips were naturally the colour of coral, the rouge if anything detracted from their blood-red sheen, giving them a dull appearance. They were laughing, and as we came in sight they turned, dropping their voices as if ashamed; and letting the "wigs" fall from their hands, they at once assumed an air of studied indifference, smoothing the creases in their dresses with the flat of their hands; and with modest gestures straightening their hair.
A man was standing behind the table. As soon as he saw us enter he leaned forward, resting his two hands on the table and bearing upon them with all the weight of his body, as if to shield his wares. At the same time he raised his eyebrow as a signal to a fat, dishevelled woman who was sitting on a chair before a rough stove on which a coffee-pot was bubbling. Rising in ponderous haste, the woman with a quick movement gathered the heap of "wigs" into the edge of her skirt, went swiftly over to the chest of drawers and put them away.
"Do you want me?" asked the man, turning to Jimmy.
"No," said Jimmy. "I want one of those things."
"That's for women," said the man. "Only for women. Not for gentlemen."
"Not for what?" said Jimmy.
"Not for you. You American officers. Not for American officers."
"Get those things out," said Jimmy.
The man looked hard at him for a moment, passing his hand over his mouth. He was a small, thin man, dressed entirely in black, with dark, unwavering eyes set in an ashen face. He said slowly: "I am an honest man. What do you want from me?"
"Those strange things," said Jimmy.
"These bastards!" said the man in Neapolitan dialect, never moving his eyes, as though he were talking to himself. "These bastards!" Smilingly he added: "Well, I'll show you. I like Americans (Bastards, the lot of them!) I'll show you."
Up to that moment I had not said a word. "How's your sister?" I asked him at that point in Italian.
The man looked at me, recognized my uniform and smiled. He seemed glad and reassured. "She's quite well, thank God, Captain," he answered, smiling with a confidential air, as much to say "You aren't an American, you are one of us, and you understand me. But these bastards!" And he nodded to the woman, who had remained standing with her back against the chest of drawers, in a defensive attitude.
The woman opened the drawer, took out the "wigs," and arranged them carefully on the table. She had a plump hand, which up to the wrist was a bright yellow, saffron colour.
Jimmy took one of the "strange things" and examined it closely.
"They aren't wigs," said Jimmy.
"No, they aren't wigs," said the man.
"What are they for?" asked Jimmy.
"They are for your negroes," said the man. "Your negroes like blondes, and
They were a comely pair, those two girls. The darkness of their complexions was concealed beneath a thick layer of paint and snow-white powder, which made their faces stand out in relief against their necks, like chalk masks. Their hair was curly and lustrous, and of a yellowish colour which indicated the use of peroxide, but its roots, which could be glimpsed beneath the tinsel of the false gold, were black, as also were their eyebrows. Black too was the down which was visible here and there on their faces. Grey under the sprinkling of powder, it was thicker and darker on the upper lip and continued thus along the jawbone as far as the ears, at which point it suddenly assumed the colour of flax, blending with the false gold of the hair. The girls' eyes were bright and very dark, and though their lips were naturally the colour of coral, the rouge if anything detracted from their blood-red sheen, giving them a dull appearance. They were laughing, and as we came in sight they turned, dropping their voices as if ashamed; and letting the "wigs" fall from their hands, they at once assumed an air of studied indifference, smoothing the creases in their dresses with the flat of their hands; and with modest gestures straightening their hair.
A man was standing behind the table. As soon as he saw us enter he leaned forward, resting his two hands on the table and bearing upon them with all the weight of his body, as if to shield his wares. At the same time he raised his eyebrow as a signal to a fat, dishevelled woman who was sitting on a chair before a rough stove on which a coffee-pot was bubbling. Rising in ponderous haste, the woman with a quick movement gathered the heap of "wigs" into the edge of her skirt, went swiftly over to the chest of drawers and put them away.
"Do you want me?" asked the man, turning to Jimmy.
"No," said Jimmy. "I want one of those things."
"That's for women," said the man. "Only for women. Not for gentlemen."
"Not for what?" said Jimmy.
"Not for you. You American officers. Not for American officers."
"Get those things out," said Jimmy.
The man looked hard at him for a moment, passing his hand over his mouth. He was a small, thin man, dressed entirely in black, with dark, unwavering eyes set in an ashen face. He said slowly: "I am an honest man. What do you want from me?"
"Those strange things," said Jimmy.
"These bastards!" said the man in Neapolitan dialect, never moving his eyes, as though he were talking to himself. "These bastards!" Smilingly he added: "Well, I'll show you. I like Americans (Bastards, the lot of them!) I'll show you."
Up to that moment I had not said a word. "How's your sister?" I asked him at that point in Italian.
The man looked at me, recognized my uniform and smiled. He seemed glad and reassured. "She's quite well, thank God, Captain," he answered, smiling with a confidential air, as much to say "You aren't an American, you are one of us, and you understand me. But these bastards!" And he nodded to the woman, who had remained standing with her back against the chest of drawers, in a defensive attitude.
The woman opened the drawer, took out the "wigs," and arranged them carefully on the table. She had a plump hand, which up to the wrist was a bright yellow, saffron colour.
Jimmy took one of the "strange things" and examined it closely.
"They aren't wigs," said Jimmy.
"No, they aren't wigs," said the man.
"What are they for?" asked Jimmy.
"They are for your negroes," said the man. "Your negroes like blondes, and