But Vanni never answered; and in the shop he worked with his head bowed as though he were thinking. One evening while gna’ Nunzia was at the hearth cooking a head of cabbage, he said, “I’m going to La Mèrica.”

The old woman gave a start, as if someone had struck her between the shoulders. Then she set the fan down.

“You heard right. I’m going. What am I doing here wasting the best years of my youth with mastro Nitto who’s sucking the blood out of me? I’m leaving.”

“But we’re getting by….” his mother said.

“And we’re getting old.”

He had Maredda on his mind, and gna’ Nunzia, who knew it, didn’t want to say too much because the girl was honest and hardworking.

They ate without saying anything else to each other; gna’ Nunzia watched her son as though she were seeing him for the last time, and her eyes brimmed with tears. Since his mother hadn’t opposed him, Vanni now felt the real weight of his resolution.

He talked about it to Maredda like it was a done deed. Maredda wept desperately but calmed down as she listened to the young man’s reassuring voice.

“What am I doing here? Over there … I won’t stay more than a year. I’ll earn enough so we can marry and I can start up a shop of my own. Over there, gold doesn’t cost much so I’ll bring you back earrings.”

Maredda smiled between her tears, and Vanni looked at her, turning his cap over in his hands and moving his head as if to say, “I’m not just a nobody, you know!”

Anything but a nobody! He had so many plans in his head and would always say, “I’ll show you off in front of the sea and all its fish, you big ugly girl. You’ll live like a lady.”

And to him it seemed that he was already rich, with a wife and a house and a shop of his own.

In the beginning, even he was stunned a bit by his decision. Then, little by little, he started getting used to the idea and made it the subject of every discussion, wanting to appear upbeat. When he started getting ready to leave he didn’t want his mother crying.

“It’s not like I’m going off to war! I bet you won’t even recognize me when I get back. If nothing else, mastro Nitto will respect me.”

He felt that now he’d become like one of the older men, and he walked proudly with Peppe Sciuto and Cola Spica who were married and who were also leaving for La Mèrica.