"How did he die? Oh, on one of his expeditions. He never got into prison," said the widow, proudly, "though the police were after him like hunters after a boar. He was clever at hiding, and when the police were looking for him on the mountains, he would be spending the night here--yes, here, at this hearth where you are sitting now." The child looked up, his two great ears suddenly on fire; then sank again on Olì's lap. "Yes, I tell you, here. One day, two years ago, he learned that a patrol was searching the hills for him, and he sent to tell me, 'While they are busy at that I'm going to take part in a job; on the way back, I'll stop with you, little wife. Look out for me.' I looked out three nights, four. I span a whole hank of black wool." "Where was he?" "Don't you understand? On a _bardana_, of course!" cried the widow impatiently. Then she dropped her voice. "I waited four nights, but I was anxious. Every step I heard set my heart beating. The fourth night passed. My heart had shrunk, till it was as little as an almond. Then I heard a beating at the door. I opened. 'Woman, wait no longer,' said a man with a mask over his face. And he gave me my husband's cloak. Ah----" the widow gave a sigh which was almost a groan. Then she was silent. Olì watched her a long time. Suddenly her gaze was attracted to the frightened gaze of the little Zuanne, whose hands, hard and brown as the claws of a bird, were clenching themselves, and fingering the wall. "What is it? What do you see?" "Dead man!" lisped the child. "What? A dead man?" said Olì laughing. But when she was in bed, alone in a grey, cold garret, round whose roof the wind screeched ever louder, searching and hammering the rafters, Olì thought of the widow's story; of the mask who had said, 'Woman, wait no more'; of the long black cloak hanging on the wall; of the child who had seen the dead man. And she thought of the little naked birds in the deserted nest; of her poor little neglected brothers; of Anania's treasure; of midsummer night; and of her dead mother. She was afraid--she was sad, so sad that though she believed herself doomed to hell, she longed to die. [Footnote 1: The man in charge of a portion of the high road is called the _Cantoniere_, and lives in the _Cantoniera_.] [Footnote 2: _Primavera_: we should call it, in June, early summer.] [Footnote 3: Prehistoric ruin.] [Footnote 4: In Sardinia the older persons are given the titles of Uncle and Aunt.] [Footnote 5: Coarse woollen stuff.] [Footnote 6: Brigandage committed by a large number in concert.] [Footnote 7: The province of Sassari] II Olì's son was born at Fonni in the springtime. He was called Anania by the advice of his godmother, the bandit's widow. He passed his infancy at Fonni, and in his imagination never forgot that strange village perched on the mountain crest, like a slumbering vulture.