The twilight deepened; the sky grew more and more crystalline, like a vast mirror; the little, violet cloud grew leaden and opaque, then long and scaly, like some monster fish; the sounds from without, rising clearer than ever in the intense stillness of the hour and place, it seemed to Brontu that he must be dreaming when the voice of Aunt Bachissia suddenly broke in upon his revery.
“Santu Juanne Battista meu!” exclaimed the harsh, melancholy voice. “If I am not mistaken, that is Giacobbe Dejas?”
“At your service,” replied the herdsman, in a tone of amazement. “But what wind blows you to these parts, little spring bird?”
“Ah, I am here at last! Where is Brontu Dejas?”
Brontu rushed out of the hut, his knees shaking and his brain in such a whirl that he could hardly discern Aunt Bachissia’s black-robed figure as she stood holding her shoes in one hand, and balancing a bundle on her head.
“Aunt Bachissia!” he cried, in great agitation. “Here I am! Good evening! Come here, come right in here!”
The woman flew towards him, closely followed by the herdsman. “Ah, Brontu, my dear boy! If I am not dead tonight, it must mean that I never shall be! Three hours I have been walking! I lost my way. I must see you about something, but be patient for a moment.”
Patient! With his whole being in such a state of turmoil that he could hardly keep back the tears! Taking her by the hand he led her inside the hut, while Giacobbe, seeing that he was to have no part in the interview, went around to the back and listened with all his ears, raging meanwhile, inwardly, like a wild bull. Not a word, however, reached him. The conference was extremely short, Aunt Bachissia refusing even to sit down. She said that she had lost her way looking for Brontu’s sheepfolds, and that Giovanna would be getting very anxious, as she thought she had merely gone into the fields to look for greens. Yes, it was quite true, they had to depend largely upon greens for their food, so bitter was their poverty: and what had brought her now was nothing less than to ask Brontu for some money. Oh, a loan! yes, thank Heaven, only a loan! If they should not be able to repay it, then she and Giovanna would work it off. For months they had not paid any rent—rent—! for their own house—! Now, the lawyer was threatening to evict them. “And where would we go, Brontu Dejas?” concluded Aunt Bachissia, clasping her gnarled and yellow hands. “Tell me where we would go, Brontu, my soul!”
His breast heaved; he wanted to seize the old woman in his arms, and shout: “Why, to my house; that is where you would go!” But he did not dare.
As there was no money at the hut Brontu decided to go home for it at once; he wished, anyhow, to return with Aunt Bachissia. Going outside, he called to Giacobbe to saddle the horse immediately. “What has happened?” asked the man. “Is your mother dead? God rest her soul!”
“No,” replied Brontu cheerfully. “Nothing has happened that in any way concerns you.”
Giacobbe began saddling the horse, but he was consumed with curiosity to know why Aunt Bachissia had come, and why Brontu was going back with her. She has come to borrow some money, he reflected, and he has none; he is going home to get it for her. “Listen, Brontu!” he called, and when the other had come quite close, he said: “If she wants money, and you haven’t got any here, I can let you have some.”
“Yes, she does; she wants to borrow some money,” said Brontu in a low tone, quivering with delight and excitement. “But I am going back with her to get it, whether you have it here or not; that makes no difference; I am going to see Giovanna this very evening, at her own house; I am going to talk to her and do for myself what not one of all you donkeys has had sense enough to do for me!”
“Man!” cried Giacobbe angrily, “you must be going mad!”
“All right; let me go mad. See here, draw the girth tighter. Ah! swelling out your sides, are you?” he added, addressing the horse. “You don’t fancy night excursions? What will you say when the old woman is mounted on the crupper?”
“She too?” exclaimed Giacobbe.
“She too, yes; what business is it of yours? Isn’t she my mother-in-law?”
“You go too fast, upon my word! Look out, or you will have a fall and break your neck, little spring bird. Ah! you are really in earnest? You really mean to marry that beggar, that married woman, when you might have a flower for your wife? Well, I can tell you one thing, Costantino Ledda is innocent; some day he will come back, remember that; some day he will come back!”
“Let me alone, Giacobbe Dejas, and attend to your own affairs. There, put a bag on the crupper. Aunt Bachissia!” he called to the old woman.
Giacobbe ran quickly into the hut, and fell over Aunt Bachissia, who was just coming out.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” he said, trembling. “You are worse than any beggar! Oh, I’m going to talk to Giovanna! I am going to talk to her myself!”
“You are a fool,” said the woman; then, lowering her voice, she called him by an outrageous name, and passed out.
A few moments later the two set forth.
Giacobbe watched them as they slowly moved away in the fading
