I said: “What about the plates, Turiddu? Don’t the people throw the crockery out of window in their joy? We must be careful.”
He replied that they only do that in the poorer parts of the town, and they always look first to make sure that no one is passing. But we had better be careful, all the same, because the revolvers are loaded and the squibs are dangerous.
He took me past the municipio, where the band was playing, and we came to a sweet-shop, where paschal lambs made of almond paste and sugar were flocking together on all the tables and shelves. They were not like the one at the Last Supper, they were in their fleeces and were standing or lying among candied fruits and tufts of dried grass that had been artificially dyed unlikely colours. Turiddu chose one, and I sent him off home with it as an Easter offering of goodwill to his mother.
Peppino Fazio was standing at a kiosk near the Quattro Canti with two young cousins, buying button-holes of violas; he gave me the one he had intended for himself.
“Wear this,” he said, “it is the primavera. Proserpine has risen from the underworld, she has returned to Enna and is scattering flowers again. Stay; let us exchange; I will take another bunch and you shall pay the man for it one soldo. Buona Pasqua.”
So we exchanged bunches. “Wear this,” I said, echoing his words, “it is the primavera; the time for visiting sepulchres is over. Proserpine has sent these flowers down from Castrogiovanni by the morning train. Buona Pasqua.”
In the next piazza, in the shadow of the statue of Bellini, was one of the men from the Teatro Machiavelli; he had brought out his dog and talked of going a-birding, he hoped it was not too early for quail, he had already seen ripe strawberries in the market. Buona Pasqua.
Then I came upon Joe, the Policeman, keeping order in the street.
He said: “Buona Pasqua. You are very good-looking this morning.” He meant I was looking very well, but he will be so English.
I replied: “Buona Pasqua. But, my dear Joe, you ought not to be wearing flowers in uniform, ought you?”