"Olì!" called Anania from the depths of the thicket. She trembled, advanced cautiously, fell into the young man's arms. They seated themselves on the warm grass, beside bushes of pennyroyal and wild laurel which exhaled strong perfume.
"I was almost prevented coming!" said the youth; "the mistress has been brought to bed of a daughter; and my wife has gone up to help, and wanted me to stay at home. 'No,' I told her, 'I've got to pick the pennyroyal and the laurel to-night. Have you forgotten it's Midsummer Eve?' So here I am."
He fumbled at his breast, while Olì touched the laurel and asked what it was good for.
"Don't you know? Laurel gathered to-night is for medicine, and has other virtues too. If you strew leaves of laurel here and there round the wall of a vineyard or a sheepfold, no wild animal can get in to gnaw the grapes or to carry off the lambs."
"But you aren't a shepherd, are you?"
"I want it for my master's vineyard; for the threshing-floor too, or the ants will steal the grain. Won't you come when I'm beating out the grain? There'll be lots of people: it's a holiday, and at night there'll be singing."
"Oh, my father wouldn't let me go," she said with a sigh.
"How stupid of him! it's clear he doesn't know my wife. She's decrepit—worn out like these stones! Wherever have I put it?" said Anania, still fumbling.
"Put what? your wife?" laughed Olì.
"A cross. I've found a silver cross this time."