"Blue the colour of her eyes, Deep and empty as the skies." Who is that behind the pine-tree? The postman with the red whiskers! On his head he wears a crow with outstretched wings. It is pecking hard at the poor man's forehead. "Rat-tat-tat!" Margherita runs to the door, receives the pink letter, and begins to fly. Anania wants to follow her, but he can't move, can't move, can't speak. It's because the postman is shaking him. "My son, it's three o'clock. When are you going to your godfather?" asks Aunt Tatàna. She it is, not the postman, who is shaking him. Anania springs to his feet, one eye still shut, one cheek pale, the other red. "I'm rather sleepy. It's because I was awake all last night. Very well, I'll go now." He washed, combed his hair, spent half an hour in making his parting first at the side, then in the middle, then doing away with it altogether. "What an idiot I am!" he thought, trying to control his feelings but in vain. "Are you there still? When ever are you going?" called the good woman from the courtyard. He looked out of the window and asked-- "What shall I say to him?" "Say you are going to-morrow. Say you'll get on well, that you'll always be a good boy." "Amen. But what will he say to me?" "He'll give you good advice." "Won't he say anything about----" "About what?" "About money," said Anania in a whisper, putting his hand over his mouth. "Bless me, what have you to do with money? You know nothing about it!" said the old woman raising her hands. "Then I'll go." On the contrary, he visited Bustianeddu; then went to the garden to take leave of Uncle Pera, also of the figs, the teazles, the far-reaching landscape. He found the old gardener stretched on the grass, his stick by his side, at rest like its master. "I'm off. Uncle Pera, good-bye. Keep well and take care of yourself." "Eh?" said the old fellow who was growing blind and deaf. "I'm going away!" shouted Anania. "I'm going to Cagliari to college." "Going to sea? Oh yes, there's sea at Cagliari. God bless you, my lad. Old Uncle Pera has nothing to give you but his prayers." Anania repented his frequent mockery of the old man, who at any rate was kind to Rebecca. He bent down, his hands on his knees. "Have you any commissions?" The old man sat up, stared, then smiled. "Commissions? I? But I'm going away myself very soon." "You?" said the boy, amused at the mania all men, even decrepit ones, have for going away. "Yes, I'm starting too." "For what place. Uncle Pera?" "Ah, for a distant one," said the old man, pointing to the horizon; "for eternity." Not till evening, nor till he had passed and repassed vainly before Margherita's window did Anania knock and ask for his godfather. "There's no one at home. They'll be back soon, if you'll wait," said the maid. "Why didn't you come earlier?" "Because I do what I choose," said Anania entering.