He had wanted to leave because up there, under that fateful sky, in the dead solitude of the high plain, guarded by the mountain sphinxes, he felt as if he were being throttled by a red-hot hoop of iron. Everything, from the blades of grass that grew in the byways to the mountain peaks, reminded him of the past. Every night he circled, sly as a fox, round Giovanna’s house. One evening he saw the tall figure of the young woman leave the portico and go across to their old house. It was the first time he had seen Giovanna. He recognized her despite the damp darkness of a cloudy evening. His heart beat violently. Each beat sent a different pain, a memory, a spasm of despair. He was on the verge of throwing himself at her, crushing her in his arms and killing her. He could not bear this lurking in the dark to catch a glimpse of her. He was seized with a longing to accost her in broad daylight, but she never came out, and he was afraid of approaching the white house in the daytime.

One Saturday evening he heard Brontu’s laugh coming from the portico, and he thought he heard Giovanni laugh too. Costantino’s eyes filled, and pain shot through him. But he went on pretending he did not care. Everyone in Orlei now seemed hostile to him. Everyone, even Isidoro. Sometimes he wondered in a confused way why he had come back. He had returned because he could not live anywhere but in the infinite calm of the high plain that stretched into the empty horizon, where the wild arbutus woods spread out like a green cloud.

‘I’m leaving,’ he said to Isidoro. ‘I’ve written to my friend, Burrai. He can do anything, you know. Even if I’d been guilty he’d have got me a pardon from the king.’

‘You’ve already told me that,’ replied Isidoro one day, as he stood with his skinny old legs in the brackish water. ‘I’m tired of hearing it. Anyway, he hasn’t replied yet.’

‘He’s trying to find me a job. Tell me the truth. Why does the priest want me to leave? Is he afraid I’ll kill Brontu Dejas?’

‘Exactly that.’

‘It can’t be that. I told him if I’d wanted to kill someone I’d have done so straight away. He kept saying, “Go away, it’s better you leave.” What do you say, fisherman? Should I go or not?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ Isidoro said. ‘All I know is you’re like a lazy dog. Why aren’t you working? Tell me. Why are you going on about this Burrai of yours? He’s not sparing a thought for you.’

‘Oh, isn’t he?’ said Costantino, offended. ‘I’ll show you whether or not he’s thinking about me. Look at this.’