The fragrant night invited to love, and Olì was in love. She was fifteen, and on the excuse of "signing the flowers of St John," she was making her way to a love-tryst.
One night six months earlier a stranger had come to the Cantoniera to ask for some fire-kindling. He was a contadino or farm-labourer sent by the owner of the extensive fields round the tumble-down house, and had arrived for the sowing. He was young and tall, with long black curls and coal-black eyes so bright one could hardly look at them! Olì alone was not afraid to meet their gaze with her own fine eyes, which were never abashed by anyone.
The Cantoniere, a man, not old, though worn with hard work, poverty, and many troubles, received the young man kindly, gave him a flint, catechised him about his master, and invited him to look in whenever he liked. After this the farm-servant frequented the Cantoniera assiduously. He told stories to the children, and taught Olì where to look for the best mushrooms and edible herbs.
One day he took her to the ruined nuraghe[3] on the hill, half hidden by thickets of red-berried thorn trees, and told her that among the huge stones of the gigantic tomb there was a treasure hidden.
"And I know of several other hidden treasures," he said gravely, while Oh picked bunches of wild fennel; "I shall certainly manage to find one of them; and then——"
"Then what?" asked Olì half sceptical, raising her eyes, which reflected the green of the surrounding landscape.
"Then I will leave this place. If you will come with me, I'll take you to the continent. Oh, I know all about the continent! I'm not long home from my military service. I've been to Rome, to Calabria, to all sorts of places. Over there everything is splendid. If you'll come——"
Olì laughed softly. She was still a little ironical, but flattered and happy. Behind the ruin, hidden in the thicket, her two little brothers were whistling to lure a sparrow. No other human voice, no human step was heard in the whole green immensity. The young man's arm slipped round Olì's waist. He drew her to him and closed her eyes with kisses.
From that day the two young things loved each other fiercely, trusting the secret of their passion to the silent riverside thickets, to the dark hiding-places of the solitary nuraghes. All her life Olì had been oppressed by loneliness and poverty. She loved this man for all be represented to her imagination, for the wondrous things and places he had seen, for the town from which he had come, for the wealthy master he served, for the plans he had traced for the future. He loved Olì for her beauty and for the fire of her temperament. Both were thoughtless and without conscience. Primitive, impulsive, self-pleasing, they loved because life was exuberant in their bosoms, and enjoyment a necessity.
The girl's mother had, it seemed, been just such another ardent and fantastic woman.