‘Be patient. It’s because of your condition. Even if you had the best food in the world, fit for a king, you wouldn’t feel satisfied.’

Giovanna gazed towards the portico, her eyes sad, her lips set in a sneer of disgust.

‘It’s going to rain tonight,’ Bachisia said again.

‘Let it rain.’

‘Is Brontu coming back?’

‘Yes, and tonight I’m going to tell him. Yes, I’m going to tell him.’

‘What do you want to tell him, my dear?’

‘I want to tell him I can’t go on. He took me to turn me into a servant; he’s cheated me, and that, that—’

‘You’re not going to tell him anything!’ exclaimed the old woman fiercely. ‘Leave him alone. He works and he too lives like a servant. Why do you want to torment him? He could throw you out and marry another woman. Wait until this blessed law comes in. Then you’ll be the mistress.’

Giovanna shook uncontrollably. Then she calmed down, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘He’s not a bad man,’ she said. ‘But he’s always drunk from swilling grappa. He disgusts me. He flares up for no reason. He’s revolting, really revolting. I ought to have … It would have been better—’

‘What would have been better?’

‘Nothing.’

It was always the same. Giovanna’s thoughts returned again and again to Costantino, so good, so handsome, so courteous and kind, and once more she yearned for the past. A misery more bitter than death enveloped her soul, and the thought of the coming birth did not soften it. Instead, it hugely increased her sorrow.

Evening fell, sombre and grey. The sky became a granite vault. Not a breath of wind broke the sultry stillness. Giovanna went to sit on the stone under the motionless almond tree. Her mother sat down beside her. They were silent awhile, then, as if continuing a conversation, the younger woman said, ‘It happened during the first months of his sentence. It’s the same now. Every night I dream of his return, and, oddly enough, I’m not afraid, although Giacobbe Dejas says that if Costantino returns he’ll kill me or have Brontu and me put in prison. I don’t know why but my heart tells me he will return. At first I didn’t believe it, but now I do. Oh, it’s useless to look at me like that. Do you think I’m accusing you? It’s I who should be afraid of you accusing me. Are you happy about me? You can’t be. You never come to see me over there’ – she stuck out her lip to indicate the white house – ‘because my mother-in-law is afraid you’ll take some dust out on your feet. I can’t give you anything. Nothing. Do you understand. Nothing at all, not even my work. Everything is closed to me. I’m a servant.’