"She was of well-to-do family," explained Olì, "and had titled relations. They wanted to marry her to an old man who had a great deal of land. My grandfather, my mother's father, was a poet. He could improvise three or four songs in one evening, and the songs were so beautiful that when he sang them in the street everybody got them by heart. Oh yes! my grandfather was a very great poet! I know some of his poetry myself. My mother taught it to me. Let me repeat some to you."
Olì recited a few verses in the dialect of Logudoro; then went on: "My mother's brother, Uncle Merziòro Desogos, used to do painting in the churches, and he carved pulpits. But at last he killed himself because he had got into prison. Yes, my mother's relations belonged to the nobility and were educated people. But she didn't choose to marry that rich old man! She had seen my father, who at that time was as handsome as a banner in a procession." She fell in love with him and they ran away together. I remember her saying, "My father has cast me off, but I don't care! Some folk love riches; I love my Micheli, and that's enough for me!"
One day the Cantoniere went to Nuoro the town, to buy wheat. He came back more melancholy even than usual.
"Olì, mind yourself. Olì!" he said, threatening his daughter with his finger, "bad luck to that farm-servant if he sets foot in here again! He has deceived us, even as to his name. He told us his name was Quirico; but it isn't, it's Anania. He comes from Argosolo. The people of Argosolo are a race of goshawks, of thieves and jail-birds! Mind yourself, young woman! He's a married man."
Olì wept, and her tears fell with the wheat into the great coffer of black wood. But scarcely was the coffer shut down and Uncle Micheli[4] gone away to his work, than the girl was off to her lover.
"Your name is Anania! You are married!" she said, her eyes flashing with rage.
Anania had just completed his sowing and still carried his grain-bag. Blackbirds sang, swinging on the olive branches. Great white clouds made the blue of the sky more intense. All was sweetness, silence, oblivion.
"Listen," said the young man; "it's unfortunately true I have a wife—an old woman. They forced her upon me (as they tried to force that rich old man upon your mother), because I was poor and she had a great deal of money. What does it matter? She's quite old and will soon die. We are young, Olì, and I care for no one but you I If you give me up, it will kill me!"
Olì was touched, and she believed all he said.
"But what are we to do?" she asked; "my father will beat me if we go on loving each other."