He consulted Zuanne on the subject, and the little goatherd thought it his duty to impart certain information to his friend.
"You ought to know," he said, "that you're a bastard; your father isn't married to your mother. There are lots of people like that, you know," he added consolingly.
"Why didn't he marry her?"
"Because he had a wife already. He'll marry her when that one dies."
"When will that one die?"
"When God wills. Your father used to come and see us, so I know him."
"What's he like?" asked Anania, frowning under an impulse of hatred towards this unknown father who didn't come to see him. This was probably what his mother cried about at night.
"Well," said Zuanne, cudgelling his memory, "he's tall and very handsome with eyes like fireflies. He has a soldier's coat."
"Where is he?"
"At Nuoro, Nuoro is a great city which can be seen from the Gennargentu. I know the Monsignore at Nuoro, because he christened me."