Padron ’Ntoni, in high spirits, rubbing his hands, said to his daughter-in-law: “I can hardly believe that everything is so happily settled. Mena will want for nothing, and now we can put in order all our other little matters, and you may say the old daddy was right when he said, ‘Tears and smiles come close together.’”
That Saturday, towards evening, Nunziata came in to get a handful of beans for the children, and said: “Cousin Alfio goes away to-morrow. He’s packing up all his things.”
Mena turned white, and stopped weaving.
In Alfio’s house there was a light. Everything was topsy-turvy. He came a few minutes after, knocking at the door, also with a very white face, and tying and untying the knot of the lash of his whip, which he held in his hand.
“I’ve come to say good-bye to you all, Cousin Maruzza, Padron ’Ntoni, the boys, and you too, Cousin Mena. The wine from Aci Catena is finished. Now Santuzza will get it from Master Filippo. I’m going to Biccocca, where there is work to be got for my donkey.”
Mena said nothing; only the mother spoke in reply to him: “Won’t you wait for Padron ’Ntoni? He will be glad to see you before you go.”
So Cousin Alfio sat down on the edge of a chair, whip in hand, and looked about the room, in the opposite direction to that where Mena was.
“Now, when are you coming back?” said La Longa.
“Who knows when I shall come back? I shall go where my donkey carries me. As long as there is work I shall stay; but I should rather come back here if I could manage to live anyhow.”
“Take care of your health, Cousin Alfio; I’ve been told that people die like flies of the malaria down there at the Biccocca.”