The other man grew indignant, not only because he had never been to prison but because of the suggestion that he had committed some offence. However, his voice was anxious when he asked, ‘Have you gone crazy? What’s the matter with you? Why are you talking that way? What have I done to you?’ Brontu began to groan, as if one of his limbs hurt. He said that he loved Giovanna madly and that he had prayed to the devil that Costantino would be found guilty.

‘Let the devil take my soul, I don’t give a damn. I don’t believe in him,’ he said, and he let out a harsh laugh that was even sadder than his previous maudlin outburst. ‘I’m going to marry Giovanna.’

Giacobbe was astonished, but he pretended to be more astonished than he really was.

‘You’re making me choke,’ he said. ‘What do you mean? How can you marry Giovanna?’

‘She’ll get a divorce, that’s how. There’s going to be a law saying any woman whose husband has been sentenced to a long prison term will be allowed to remarry.’

Giacobbe had already heard about this law. But so as not to appear ignorant, he said, ‘Oh, yes, I know that. But it’s still a mortal sin. Giovanna will never do it.’

‘That’s what worries me, Giacobbe Dejas. Will you talk to her? Tomorrow perhaps.’

‘Oh, of course. Tomorrow! You’re a fool, Brontu. You may be rich but you’re as stupid as a lizard. In fact you’re stupider. You could marry a rich young girl as fresh as a wild rose and yet you want to marry that woman. You make me laugh.’

‘You can laugh until you split. I’m going to marry her,’ Brontu said, furious again. ‘There’s no woman like her. I shall marry her, you’ll see.’

‘Marry her then, my spring chicken,’ replied the other man, laughing. Brontu began to laugh as well, and they went on laughing together until they saw a tall man with a long stick coming quietly towards them.

‘How’s the fishing, Isidoro Pane?’ Giacobbe asked. ‘Aren’t your legs full of holes?’

‘Go and become a leech-gatherer, yourself,’ said the old man. ‘What a smell of grappa! Someone around here must have broken a cask.’

‘Do you mean you think we’re drunk?’ demanded Brontu threateningly. ‘It’s only because you can’t afford it that you don’t get drunk yourself. Go away or I’ll kill you. I’ll squash you like a frog.’

The old man laughed softly and walked on.

‘Fool,’ said Giacobbe. ‘He could be your go-between. He’s a friend of hers.’

Brontu turned, and waved. ‘Come back,’ he called out. ‘Come here, I tell you. If you don’t come here, you silly old man, dogs will bite you whenever they can.’