They entered the tavern. It was empty, smelling of tobacco and spirits, swarming with flies.
A girl was sitting on the bench. She was dark, and very handsome, though untidy and dirty.
"Good-morning. Agata."
"What do you want?" she asked, getting up and turning familiarly to Anania.
"What would you like?" Anania asked the shepherd.
"I don't mind," said Zuanne embarrassed.
The girl mimicked him, looking Anania in the face. He returned her look. Zuanne grew red, and looked at the floor. When they came out he asked shyly.
"Is that one your sweetheart too?"
Anania was half-flattered, half-angry. "What makes you think that? Because she looked at me? Good gracious, what are eyes for? You intend to be a monk, I suppose?"
"Yes," said Zuanne simply.