Now, just at this time, there was one carter who had none, and Regina
knew it, for he was one of her chief admirers. He was the
hardest-drinking ruffian of all the men who came and went on the
Frascati road, and he had been quite willing to sell his dog in the
street to a gentleman who admired it and offered him fifty francs for
it, though that is a small price for a handsome "lupetto." But Mommo
happened to be deeper in debt than usual, took the money, and cast about
to steal another dog that might serve him. So far he had not seen one to
his liking.
It is the custom of the wine-carters, when they have had plenty to eat
and drink, to climb to their seats under the fan-like goat-skin hoods of
their carts, and to go to sleep, wrapped in their huge cloaks. Their
mules plod along and keep out of the way of other vehicles without any
guidance, and their dogs protect them from thieves, who might steal
their money; for they always carry the sum necessary to pay the octroi
duty at the city gates, where every cart is stopped. As they are on the
road most of their lives, winter and summer, they would not get much
sleep if they tried to keep awake all night; and they drink a good deal,
partly because wine is really a protection against the dangerous fever,
and partly because their drink costs them nothing. Some of them drank
their employers' wine at supper, others exchanged what they brought for
Paoluccio's, which they liked better.
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