"He says the beast has grown terribly thin."
"That's all the work he has done. What does the padrone expect? Even animals are flesh and blood."
After supper the olive-miller had forgotten all about Olì and her woes. He went to the tavern. Aunt Tatàna got her distaff, and told stories to the son of her adoption. Bustianeddu came to listen also.
"Once upon a time there was a king with seven golden eyes on his forehead like stars;" and so forth.
Or she told the story of Marieddu and the Hobgoblin. Marieddu had escaped from the Hobgoblin's house. "She ran and ran, all the time dropping nails which as fast as she dropped them began to multiply. They multiplied until they filled the whole plain. Uncle Hobgoblin followed her, followed her, but he never could catch her up because the nails kept sticking into his feet."
Dear! what shudders of delight this story of Marieddu gave the two children! What a difference between the dark cottage, the figure, the stories of the widow of Fonni, and the dear kitchen, the warmth, the sweet face and the enchanting legends of Aunt Tatàna. Yet there were times when Anania was bored. Or at least he did not experience the wild emotion which the widow's narratives had awaked in him. Perhaps it was because the good Zuanne, the beloved brother, was not there and in his place was Bustianeddu, who was so naughty and so cruel, who pinched him and called him names even when people were listening and in spite of Aunt Tatàna's admonitions.
One evening Bustianeddu called him "bastard" in the hearing of Margherita Carboni, who had come with her servant bringing a message to the miller. Aunt Tatàna pushed Bustianeddu away, and silenced him, but it was too late. Margherita had heard, and Anania felt unspeakable distress. Aunt Tatàna got bread and honey and set him and Margherita to eat it together; she gave none to Bustianeddu. But what was the good of bread and honey, when he had been dubbed "bastard" before Margherita Carboni? The little girl was dressed in green; her stockings were violet, and round her neck was a scarf of vivid rose colour. It lent colour to her soft cheeks and brought out the blue of her shining eyes. That night Anania saw her in his dreams; lovely, and coloured like the rainbow. Even in his dream he felt the grief of having been called "bastard" before her.
That year Easter was not till the end of April. The olive miller fulfilled his Easter duty, and his confessor bade him legitimize his son. At Easter too, Anania, now eight years old, was confirmed. Signor Carboni was his godfather. The confirmation was a great event not only for the boy but for the whole place. Monsignore Demartis, the beautiful and imposing bishop, convened everybody to the Cathedral and publicly bestowed the Chrism on a hundred children. Through the open doors, which seemed enormous to Anania, spring, with its sunshine and fragrance, penetrated into the church. It was crowded with women in their purple dresses, with fine ladies, and wondering children. Signor Carboni, stout, florid, with blue eyes and reddish hair, wore a velvet waist-coat crossed by a huge gold chain. He was greeted, saluted, sought after by all the most conspicuous persons, by the peasants both male and female, by the fine ladies and the crowding children. Anania was proud and happy to have such a godfather. True, Signor Carboni was standing sponsor for seventeen others, but that did not detract from the importance of this singular honour done to each of the eighteen.
After the ceremony the eighteen children with their respective parents adjourned to their godfather's house, and Anania was able to admire Margherita's drawing-room of which he had heard marvels. It was a great room with red walls and huge eighteenth century chairs; cabinets adorned with wax flowers under glass shades, with marble dishes of fruit, and plates with slices of cheese and sausage, all of marble. Liqueurs, coffee, cakes and pastry were handed round, and the lovely Signora Carboni who had deep dimples in her cheeks, black hair drawn very tight on her temples, and a pretty muslin gown with flounces and little spots of pink and blue, was most amiable with everybody and kissed all the eighteen god-children, giving each of them a present.
Anania long remembered these details. He remembered too, how ardently and how vainly he had wished that Margherita would come and look at his new clothes, which were of yellow fustian, and as stiff as the skin of the devil. And he remembered that Signora Cecita Carboni had kissed him, and with her jewelled hand had tapped lightly on his little head (cropped horrible close) and said to the miller: