Over there without a mother, that little thing, God love him, would have surely died. And the worry of caring for the child left the old woman no time to weep for her son, who was leaving. She wasn’t even able to accompany him to Santo Stefano, and she barely followed him as far as Rosario—she only saw him turn the corner along with the other young men and said good-bye to him waving her hand from afar as long as she could still see him, because he turned three times with a smile on his lips and a pale face. And then immediately she headed home, bent over in her black shawl to get back to the little one she’d left in the cradle. Anything but time for weeping with that little creature, who was hungry one minute, then crying uncontrollably the next for no reason, and then suddenly quiet again! Gna’ Lidda felt an overwhelming tenderness when she climbed into bed with that tiny one next to her; and at certain times during the night she would awake with a sudden fear that she might suffocate him in her sleep. It truly seemed as though time had turned back to when she was young and had her own little boy sleeping next to her. What a happy time that was! And she would sigh heavily, her heart so full of sadness that it seemed it would break.

That little one was a continual worry. She had to wean him early because she wasn’t able to buy enough milk every day to nourish him properly, and so she got him used to a mixture made of very fine grain. She bathed him every day, just like the son of a gentleman, and changed his clothes often, since washing them cost her nothing—that was her job.

It was painful to see gna’ Lidda at that age going to Buscardo with a basket of laundry on her head and the child in her arms. She would take the laundry of the well-to-do and bring it back, always with Nenè in her arms. And Nenè would sometimes get a lump of sugar or a handful of rice for the broth, or some of the rich children’s used clothing. Because if gna’ Lidda was poor, God was great; and in this world there is no reason to despair, and the poor woman who contents herself with little will find food and assistance without knowing where and how, just like the sparrows and starlings.