Here and there, in front of the cottages where the inhabitants were too poor to light a lamp, groups of people sat enjoying the air. He greeted them and passed by. In a deserted corner he saw two lovers, the man trying to hide the woman, she turning her head to the wall. To scare the young couple, Costantino was tempted to call out, ‘I’m going to tell your father.’ But, afraid of being seen, he passed by.

When he reached the black mass of the almond tree that leaned out over the street, his heart began to thump. Approaching Bachisia’s house, he thought what he was seeing was a huge black head with wild hair in the distance, watching him.

He decided to go round the other way, straight to the Dejas’ house. It all seemed easy. Although he was afraid, he felt ready for anything. Hearing a girl’s voice say, ‘Whatever you say it’s not true,’ he glanced round, but could see no one.

His anxiety mounted with each step. He crossed the open yard in front of the houses, passed Bachisia’s cottage, then the white house, then Mattea’s hovel. A small window in the last cottage was lit up. The rest was in darkness. Once again it occurred to him that Mattea must have been acting for Giovanna. But she could have been lying to him. Bachisia might be at Giovanna’s house or Giovanna might be asleep and not open the door. Without hesitation he went on to the portico. At once he made out the figure of Giovanna seated on the front steps. She recognized him immediately and jumped to her feet, rigid with terror, but his weary, distressed voice reassured her. ‘Don’t be afraid. Are you alone?’

‘Yes.’

They fell into each other’s arms.

XVIII

A year went by. One night, when Brontu was away from home, Martina heard, or thought she heard, a low whispering coming from Giovanna’s room.

‘Is Brontu back?’ thought the old woman. ‘Why has he come? Has something happened at the sheepfold?’

The idea so worried her that she got out of bed. The door was open. She could hear a subdued muttering in Giovanna’s room. She did not want to light the lamp, so, in the dark, she tried to cross the landing to get to Giovanna’s room but, after a few steps, she bumped into a chair, which fell over.

‘Holy Mary,’ groaned the old woman, righting the chair. She groped her way to the door and tried to open it. It was locked.

‘What do you want?’ Giovanna called.

‘Is Brontu back?’

‘No. Why?’

‘I thought I heard someone talking. Why did you lock the door?’

‘Did I lock it? I don’t believe I did,’ said Giovanna in an innocent voice. ‘Wait. I’ll open it. I was talking to the baby. She won’t go to sleep.’