Sometimes Don Michele would add, “Permit me,” with his hand to his cap, and sit down near them on the stones. Mena thought he came for Barbara, and said nothing. But to Lia Don Michele swore that he did not come there on account of Barbara, that he never had, that he never should, that he was thinking of quite a different person—did not Cousin Lia know that? And he rubbed his chin and twisted his mustaches and stared at her like a basilisk. The girl turned all sorts of colors, and got up to run into the house; but Don Michele caught her by the hand, and said:
“Do you wish to offend me, Cousin Malavoglia? Why do you treat me in this way? Stay where you are; nobody means to eat you.”
So, while they were waiting for the men to come back from sea, they passed the time, she in the door, and Don Michele on the stones, breaking little twigs to pieces because he did not know what to do with his hands. Once he asked her, “Would you like to go and live in town?”
“What should I do in town?”
“That’s the place for you! You were not meant to live here with these peasants, upon my honor! You are of a better sort than they are; you ought to live in a pretty little cottage, or in a villa, and to go to the marina, or to the promenade when there is music, dressed prettily, as I should like to see you—with a pretty silk kerchief on your head, and an amber necklace. Here I feel as if I were living in the midst of pigs. Upon my honor I can hardly wait for the time when I shall be promoted, and recalled to town, as they have promised me, next year.”
Lia began to laugh as if it were all a joke, shaking her shoulders at the idea. She, who didn’t know even what silk kerchiefs or amber necklaces were like.
Then one day Don Michele drew out of his pocket, with great mystery, a fine red and yellow silk kerchief wrapped up in a pretty paper, and wanted to make a present of it to Cousin Lia.
“No, no!” said she, turning fiery red. “I wouldn’t take it, no, not if you killed me.”
Don Michele insisted. “I did not expect this, Cousin Lia; I do not deserve this.” But after all, he had to wrap the kerchief once more in the paper and put it back into his pocket.
After this, whenever she caught a glimpse of Don Michele, Lia ran off to hide herself in the house, fearing that he would try to give her the kerchief. It was in vain that Don Michele passed up and down the street, the Zuppidda screaming at him all the time; in vain that he stretched his neck peering into the Malavoglia’s door; no one was ever to be seen, so that at last he made up his mind to go in. The girls, when they saw him standing before them, stared, open-mouthed, trembling as if they had the ague, not knowing what to do.