"Well, if you'll give me some coffee, just one little cup, I won't fly just yet. How good your coffee is, my dear! How do you get it so good? No one can make it so well except my mother at Nuoro." The old woman, greatly flattered, poured out a cup, which being the first from the pot was truly exquisite. "Upon my word it is good!" said Anania, raising ecstatic eyes. "It gives me nostalgia." "What's nostalgia?" "A shudder of the heart, Aunt Varvara; that shudder which comes when we think of paradise. Would you like to come home with me, little aunt, on a pillion? think! what fun!" The old woman heaved a tremendous sigh. "Ah--if it weren't for the sea. Are you very rich?" she asked suddenly. "Of course I am." "How many _tancas_ have you?" "Seven or eight. I don't quite remember." "And bees have you? And shepherds?" "Aunt Varvara, I have everything." "Then why have you come to this land of damnation?" "Because my sweetheart wishes me to be Doctor of Law." "And who is your sweetheart?" "The daughter of the Baron of Baronia." "Are there still Barons of Baronia? I have heard that phantoms haunt their castle. Once there was a woodcutter who spent the night under the castle wall, and he saw a lady with a long gold tail like a comet. Do you know what a comet is? By our Lady of Good Counsel! you'll kill yourself drinking so much coffee!" "Go on with the story. What did the woodcutter do?" Aunt Varvara went on. She mixed the legends of the Castello of the Castle of Burgos with those of the castle of Galtelli, confused historic records come down by popular tradition, with events which had happened in her own childhood, not it is true very recent. She told a story of a great lord who had lost his way on a moor, and not till he heard a little bell at evening dusk, could he find his way to an inhabited place. The great lord was very rich and very stupid, and he promised to leave all his wealth to the church whose bell he had heard. And ever after that, the bell has tolled at evening dusk so that lost men may be able to find their way. "But that's the legend of St Maria Maggiore," said Anania. "No, no, my dear little heart. It belongs to the church of Illori. I can tell you the name of the great rich man. It was Don Gonario Area." "And the _nuraghes_," continued Aunt Varvara, walking about the steaming kitchen, "are there still _nuraghes_? You know when the Moors came to Sardinia to steal the cattle and the women, the Sardinians hid their money in the _nuraghes_. Stupid boy, why don't you look for treasure on your _tancas_?" Anania thought of his father who had again written requiring him to visit the museums where antique gold coins are preserved.