"To-day is a great holiday. The lady is coming. The corn comes into the ear without waiting for the Ascension."
George smiled at the courteous remark of the old man, and asked:
"Did you think of the women to gather the furze flowers? The entire length of the road must be strewn with them."
The old man gave an impatient gesture, as if to signify that he required no reminder.
"I sent for five!"
And he named them, showing the places where the young girls lived.
"The Monkey's daughter, the Ogress's daughter, Favetta, Splendor, and Garbin's daughter."
These names provoked in George a sudden mirth. It seemed to him that all the spirit of springtime entered into his heart, that a wave of fragrant poesy inundated it. Did not these virgins step out of a fairy tale to strew flowers on the road under the feet of the beautiful Roman?
He abandoned himself to the anxious enjoyment of expectation. He asked, restlessly:
"Where are they gathering their harvest of furze?"