We entered the field.
"My respects to you, Giovanni," cried Federico, going forward to meet the old man. "Blessed be your seed! Blessed be your future bread!"
"My respects to you," I repeated in my turn.
The old man left his work and uncovered his head.
"Giovanni, you must cover yourself, if you wish us to remain covered," said Federico.
The old man put on his cap, smiling, confused, almost intimidated. He asked with a modest air:
"To what do I owe so much honor?"
I answered in a voice which I forced to be firm:
"I came to beg you to hold my son at the baptism."
The old man looked at me with surprise; then he looked at my brother. His confusion increased. He murmured: