“No, I didn’t cry there. No. Instead I wrote to you. I have nobody. No mother, no brothers, no one. I watched them board the steamer, all of them, one by one. Even that one, her, you know, who laughed in my face as she waved good-bye!”

And Mariano? Not even one kind word, not one single word of encouragement! Oh, of course he’d thought about her return ticket, that of course, so that as soon as the ship had left, someone from the station accompanied her to the train.

“And your things?”

Her things? Obviously, Mamma Vita had no idea of what a city was like! Who could open a suitcase and look for things in the midst of that hell?

She showed her mother-in-law the prescription. The doctor had given it to her. Every morning it would be necessary to put a few drops of the prescribed medication in each eye; a pharmacist could administer it, or any trained person.

“He assured me that after a month’s treatment I’ll be cured.”

“You see,” exclaimed the old woman, rocking the baby to keep him quiet, “it’s not the end of the world.”

Catena bowed her head. And the time it would take between the cure and the trip? And the others over there? That monster, Rosa, who had lured Mariano with a pipe dream, who’d put the thought of La Mèrica in his head in the first place? And before her eyes there appeared the lithe figure of her stepsister, the curvaceous body, tiny waist and full bust, the olive-colored face with red lips and haughty laugh.

As far as the cure was concerned, there was no time to waste. The next day as soon as Papà ‘Ntoni had left for Baronia, gna’ Vita covered her head with a shawl and put the child on her shoulders so she could accompany her daughter-in-law to the pharmacist, don Graziano.

They insisted on beginning the cure immediately, that very morning. The old man adjusted his glasses and had the young woman sit down, holding her forehead with one hand and with the other administering drops to her eyes of a solution he’d prepared.

“Only a few drops, he said,” murmured Catena, biting her lip as the medicine streamed down her temples and ears.

“Don Graziano,” repeated Mamma Vita a little louder, since the old man was half deaf, “just a few drops, just a few.”

“Quiet,” answered the pharmacist, taking offense. “If you don’t have any faith in me, go find yourselves another doctor.”

“Excuse us, sir,” begged the young woman. “It’s just that I read the prescription.”

And she followed the old woman out, holding a handkerchief to her eyes because of the sharp burning that she felt there.