"No, it belongs to any one who finds it," replied Anania, and as if to enforce his argument, he folded Olì in his arms and kissed her. "When I find the treasure, then you'll come?" he asked, trembling. "Say you will, my flower! It's clear I must find it at once, for I can't go on living without you. When I look at my old wife, I'd like to die; but when I'm with you, Olì, then I want to live a thousand years. My flower!" Olì listened, and she also trembled. Around them was deepest silence; the stars shone like pearls, like eyes smiling with love; ever sweeter on the air was the scent of the laurel. "My wife must die very soon," said Anania; "what's the good of old people in the world? In a year we shall probably be married." "San Giovanni grant it!" sighed Olì. "But it's wrong to wish any one's death. And now let me go home." "Ah, stay a little longer!" he supplicated. "Why should you go so soon? What's to become of me without you?" But she rose, all tremulous. "Perhaps we'll see each other to-morrow morning. I shall be picking my flowers before sunrise. I'll make you a charm against temptations." But he was not thinking about temptations. He knelt, clasping Olì in his arms, and began to cry. "No, my flower, don't go! don't go! Stay a little longer, Olì, my little lamb! You are my life. See, I kiss the ground where you put your feet. Stay a little, or, indeed, indeed, I shall die!" He groaned and shook; and his voice moved Oh even to tears. She stayed. Not till autumn did Uncle Micheli perceive that his daughter had gone wrong. Then fierce anger overpowered this wearied and suffering man, who had known all the griefs of life except dishonour. That was unbearable. He took Olì by the arm, and cast her out. She wept, but Uncle Micheli was implacable. He had warned her a thousand times. He had trusted her. Had her lover been a free man he might have forgiven. But this--No! this, he could never pardon. For some days Olì found shelter in the tumble-down house round which Anania had sown his corn. The little brothers brought her scraps of food, till Uncle Micheli found it out and beat them. Now autumn was covering the heavens with great livid clouds; it rained ceaselessly; the thickets were blown by damp winds, or they glittered with cold hoar frost. Olì made her way to Nuoro to ask help from her lover. Perhaps he had a presentiment of her coming, for outside the town he met her. He was kind, he comforted her, he wrapped her in his own jacket; he took her to Fonni, a mountain village above Mamojada. "Don't be frightened," said the young man; "I have a relation at Fonni, and you'll be all right with her. Trust me, my little lamb! I will never desert you."