The day after Martina heard the lovers whispering, Costantino appeared, as he often did, at Bachisia’s house. He did not like the old witch, who had been the chief instigator of Giovanna’s divorce. In the moments when all the bitterness of his sad destiny arose to crush him, the young man felt such hatred against his former mother-in-law that the urge to throttle her raced through his blood like a voluptuous desire. But he went to her house because he needed to relive his past in the cottage where he had been so happy, and because he liked to hear the curses and slanders that Bachisia hurled incessantly at the Dejas.

Did Bachisia know that Giovanna and Costantino were lovers? She said nothing and neither did the young man but, like Isidoro, Bachisia had guessed. She was content to let the matter take its course. Costantino had given her a pair of shoes, and from time to time he did a small service for her. If he had asked her to allow him to meet Giovanna in her house, she would perhaps not have said no, but Costantino had confided nothing to her nor had he asked for anything. That day he went in cautiously, a little worried, and Bachisia, who was seated by the door spinning, put down her distaff and looked at the young man for a long time, her little eyes full of malice.

Evening fell. Costantino had been working all day. He was tired, unhappy, worried. The sweetness and luminosity of the summer evening, the silence of Bachisia’s cottage, the loneliness of the yard in front of the Dejas’ house, the warm scent of evening heightened the poignancy of his nostalgia for the past.

He sat on a bench, leaning his elbows on his knees, his chin on his clasped hands. For a moment neither he nor the old woman spoke. He was thinking of little Martino, his dead child. He seemed to see him playing before the door, and he felt the tears trembling in his eyes.

‘You know,’ Bachisia said suddenly, ‘the old nanny-goat is going crazy.’

‘Who?’ asked Costantino.

‘Who? The old miser, Martina Dejas. D’you know what? Last night she got out of bed and went to spy at Giovanna’s door. She thought there was a man in there – imagine, my dear. She’s gone quite crazy now. She always was half-crazy.’

‘Oh,’ was all Costantino said.

‘Listen, my dear.’ Bachisia, lowered her voice. ‘Giovanna says—’

‘What?’ asked Costantino, raising his head suddenly.

‘She says Martina thinks that you and Giovanna – do you get my meaning? The old hag hasn’t said anything, but Giovanna has guessed what she’s thinking. So—’

‘I understand,’ said Costantino.

He understood. Giovanna was warning him through Bachisia. He would have to be careful.