‘But now Aunt Nunzia’s gotten you some eyeglasses,’ Don Vincenzo, who had heard her, broke in, winking, with an air of teasing comprehension. He, too, wore glasses.

‘At your age,’ he said, handing her the candies, ‘I could see like a cat, I could thread needles at night, my grandmother always wanted me nearby … but now I’m old.’

Eugenia nodded vaguely. ‘My friends … none of them have glasses,’ she said. Then, turning to the servant Rosaria, but speaking also for Don Vincenzo’s benefit: ‘Just me … Nine diopters on one side and ten on the other … I am almost blind!’ she said emphatically, sweetly.

‘See how lucky you are,’ said Don Vincenzo, smiling, and to Rosaria: ‘How much salt?’

‘Poor child!’ the Amodios’ maid commented as Eugenia left, happily. ‘It’s the dampness that’s ruined her. In that building it rains on us. Now Donna Rosa’s bones ache. Give me a kilo of coarse salt and a packet of fine …’

‘There you are.’

‘What a morning, eh, today, Don Vincenzo? It seems like summer already.’

Walking more slowly than she had on the way there, Eugenia, without even realizing it, began to unwrap one of the two candies, and then put it in her mouth. It tasted of lemon. ‘I’ll tell Aunt Nunzia that I lost it on the way,’ she proposed to herself. She was happy, it didn’t matter to her if her aunt, good as she was, got angry. She felt someone take her hand, and recognized Luigino.

‘You are really blind!’ the boy said, laughing. ‘And the glasses?’

‘Mamma went to Via Roma to get them.’

‘I didn’t go to school; it’s a beautiful day, why don’t we take a little walk?’

‘You’re crazy! Today I have to be good.’

Luigino looked at her and laughed, with his mouth like a money box, stretching to his ears, contemptuous.

‘What a rat’s nest.’

Instinctively Eugenia brought a hand to her hair.

‘I can’t see well, and Mamma doesn’t have time,’ she answered meekly.

‘What are the glasses like? With gold frames?’ Luigino asked.

‘All gold!’ Eugenia answered, lying. ‘Bright and shiny!’

‘Old women wear glasses,’ said Luigino.

‘Also ladies, I saw them on Via Roma.’

‘Those are dark glasses, for sunbathing,’ Luigino insisted.

‘You’re just jealous. They cost eight thousand lire.’

‘When you have them, let me see them,’ said Luigino. ‘I want to see if the frame’s really gold. You’re such a liar,’ and he went off on his own business, whistling.

Re-entering the courtyard, Eugenia wondered anxiously if her glasses would have gold frames or not. In the negative case, what could she say to Luigino to convince him that they were a thing of value? But what a beautiful day! Maybe Mamma was about to return with the glasses wrapped in a package. Soon she would have them on her face. She would have … A frenzy of blows fell on her head. A real fury. She seemed to collapse; in vain she defended herself with her hands. It was Aunt Nunzia, of course, furious because of her delay, and behind Aunt Nunzia was Pasqualino, like a madman, because he didn’t believe her story about the candies. ‘Bloodsucker! You ugly little blind girl! And I gave my life for this ingratitude … You’ll come to a bad end! Eight thousand lire, no less. They bleed me dry, these scoundrels.’