“Yes, I know, and I have been thinking why it is that you don’t get rich,” pursued Lucia, without a trace of coquetry in her manner. “You are clever and handy, you don’t gamble and you don’t drink; why, you might be the foremost man in the town, and yet you don’t get a step farther. I have come to the conclusion that it is the shooting which is at the bottom of it.” Don Ernano gazed more and more earnestly at the girl as she spoke, and the sympathy which he read in her face went to his very heart. But he only pulled his ear again, and said rather sheepishly, “The signorina may be right, but it is the only pleasure I have in the world. What am I to do? It is so dreary at home, and sometimes I get bored almost to death.” “Ah! you ought to marry, Don Ernano,”said Lucia, simply, still busying herself with the onions. “If you had a wife you would have a real home and some one to work for.” “Yes,”returned the light-haired giant, “marry! it is easy to say, but who would have me, a penniless foreigner? I have thought about it now and then; but it is a hard matter for a man like me to get a good wife.” “I should not think that,”said Lucia, reflectively, looking at him again as she spoke, for they were old acquaintances these two, and on intimate terms—“I should not think that. You see I have known you ever since I was a little girl, and I know you are good and clever. I dare say, the truth is you like your liberty.” “Maybe,”returned Don Ernano; and then with sudden gravity he added, “but maybe also the right one has not yet come my way.” “Ah! then you are fastidious; I understand. Now, Don Ernano, what sort of wife do you want, I wonder? I am quite curious to know.” “What sort?” repeated the Don, again pulling at his ear, and then adding, in a low tone, “Well, one like yourself, signorina.” “Me! you are joking!”returned Lucia, with an attempt at a laugh; “why, I am only a small farmer’s daughter.” “My father was less than a small farmer. He was an iron-worker, and emigrated first to Austria and then to Italy; so you see you are above me, even if I were not as poor as a rat. And as you are so far above me, there is no harm in my saying that a wife like you is just what would suit me, eh?” “Don Ernano, can you make any use of the onions?” interrupted Lucia, in a frightened tone, without venturing to raise her eyes from the ground. “Certainly, signorina, if you don’t mind leaving them and letting me settle with you at the end of the month.” “I’ll trust you,”replied Lucia, hurriedly emptying the baskets; and with a hasty “good-bye,” she reseated herself on the mule and trotted off again to Palenella, leaving Don Ernano half afraid that he had managed to offend her. III.