to hear what the servant was buying.
“I want a pointed hat, Antonio. But it has to be long and not full of moth holes. "
"I didn't take her out of your ladies' house," replied Milese, who was notorious for his sharp tongue. And Don Predu cleared his throat outside as a token of approval, while the merchant climbed a small ladder.
"Everything ages and everything can be renewed - like the year," replied Efix, who followed the emaciated figure of Mileses with his eyes, who was still wearing a goatskin vest according to the old custom.
The shop was small but packed. Scarlet balls of fabric shone on the shelves, and beside them the mint liqueur shimmered in bulbous onesBottles; the sacks of flour with their white bodies spread over the black humps of the herring kegs, and in the little shop window the naked women from the postcards smiled graciously at the rancid baked goods in the tin cans and the brightly colored silk ribbons.
While Milese took the long black cloth caps out of a box and Efix measured their width with his hand spread, someone opened the small door to the courtyard; and in its frame, entwined with vine leaves, a stately female figure was visible, enthroned on a broad chest and spinning flax with gentle movements, almost like a queen of the past.
“My mother-in-law is sitting there. Ask them if these hats don't cost me nine pesetas myself, 'said Milese, while Efix put one of them on, pulled it low over his forehead and neatly placed the tassel on the head. “You picked out the finest one straight away; you are not as humble as it is always said. "
"It's too tight."
“Because it's still new. Man of god! Take it easy. Nine pesetas - that's as good as thrown in. "
Efix took it off and pensively straightened it; finally he put the usury's money on the table.
Don Predu looked in the door, and the fact that Efix had bought such a splendid hat puzzled Milese's mother-in-law too. With a silent movement of her head, she beckoned the servant over and askedsolemnly how his mistresses are doing. After all, they were from a noble family, and only an upstart, a peddler who had become rich, like her son-in-law Milese, could fail to have the due respect for them.
"Give her my warmest regards and tell Fraulein Ruth that I would visit her soon. We've always been good friends, although I'm not of old nobility like her. "
"A nobility of the heart is also a nobility," replied Efix politely; but she just turned the Kunkel in her hand, as if to say: Let's not talk about it!
“My brother, the pastor, also values your mistresses very much. He always asks me: 'When are we going to make a pilgrimage to the Marian festival with the ladies?'
“Yes,” she went on almost sadly, “before, when we were young, we all went to the party together. Back then, people were still happy about every little thing. Nowadays people seem to be ashamed of laughing. "
Efix carefully folded his cap.
"God willing, my mistresses will make a pilgrimage to the festival again this year - to pray, not for pleasure ..."
"That pleases me. And tell me, if I may ask: is it true that Lia's son is here? They told themselves this morning in the shop. "
Since Milese had answered the door and was laughing at something Don Predu whispered to him, Efix called out with emphasized dignity: “Yes, it is true. That's whyI am in the village; I'm supposed to buy a horse for him. "
"A rocking horse?" Asked Don Predu, laughing roaringly. "Oh, that's why I saw you come out of old Kallina's cave earlier."
'And what do you care? We have never asked you for anything. "
“God forbid, you old fool. I wouldn't give you anything either. But I have good advice for you: leave the boy where he is! "
But Efix had already left the shop with a proud head and hurried off with his hat under his arm without saying anything.
III.
The Pintor ladies waited in vain for their nephew over the next few days and weeks.
Esther had special bread baked: white bread, loose and tender like a host, the kind that is only baked on high feast days; and without her sisters' knowledge, she also secretly bought a small basket of baked goods. After all, a guest came to visit, and hospitality is sacred. But Ruth dreamed of the arrival of the nephew night after night, and every day at three o'clock - the hour when the stagecoach arrived - she looked out from the gate. But time passed, and all around remained silent and unchanged.
In the first days of May Noemi stayed alone in the house because the sisters had been making a pilgrimage to the feast of Our Lady, like every year, for a long time Time. For repentance, as they said, but also for pleasure.
Noemi took pleasure in neither one nor the other; but as she sat in the warm shade of the house on that long, shining afternoon, she accompanied the sisters in a wistful spirit on their way. She saw the gray, round church again, which looked like a large nest hidden in the grass of the wide courtyard; saw the stone huts in the wide circle, between which a colorful, picturesque crowd cavorted like a gypsy tribe; saw the roughly timbered lookout tower above the pastor's hut, the blue-misty distance, the rustling trees and the sea shimmering between the silver dunes. And while she was thinking about all these things, she wanted to cry; but she bit her tongue and was ashamed of her emotion.
Every year spring filled her with this strange unrest. But she sensed that it was only a passing mood, a feeling of weakness that disappeared with the first sultry summer sultry. Longingly, she let her thoughts wander, completely surrendered to the drowsy silence that lay around: over the red poppies in the courtyard, over the mountain slope, over which the shadow of a cloud slipped now and then, over the whole village, almost all of its inhabitants were at the party.
And again she lingered there in thought.
You think she is still a young girl and is standing in the waiting room above the pastor's hut on a gentle evening in May. The lunar disc appears copper-redfrom the sea. Wailing and sighing, the sounds of the accordion ring out through the courtyard, in which a bright brushwood fire flickers, and its reddish glow clearly sets off the slender, brown figure of the musician and the bluish faces of the young girls and boys from the gray of the wall Sardinian round dance. Their shadows swirl ghostly over the trampled grass and the walls of the little church; the golden buttons and silver braids of the costumes and the accordion handles glitter and sparkle; everything else is blurred in the pearlescent luster of the moonlit night.
Noemi remembered that she had never taken part in the hustle and bustle, while the older sisters laughed and enjoyed themselves and Lia crouched shyly in a mossy corner of the courtyard, as if she had already thought of fleeing back then.
The festival lasted nine days and finally grew into an exuberant, uninterrupted dance with the sound of the accordion and happy chants. But Noemi was always standing in the lookout, between the remains of the feast; around them shimmered empty bottles, a broken plate, a grass-green apple, a forgotten bucket or spoon; The stars above the courtyard also trembled as if under the pounding beat of the dance. Only she did not dance, only she did not laugh and hoped at the sight of the cheerfully whirling crowd that she too would be able to take part in the joys of life again.
But the years passed, the joys of life were played out far from the village, and to be enjoyed to be able to, her sister Lia had finally escaped from the house ...
But she was still sitting on the rotten veranda of the old house, as she was at the pastor's waiting room.
Towards sunset there was a knock on the gate, which she kept closed.
It was old Aunt Pottoi who asked whether she needed her services; and although Noemi did not ask her to stay, she sat on the ground with her back to the wall, loosened her handkerchief over her brightly decorated neck and began to chat sadly about the party.
“Everyone is there now - including my grandchildren, may the Lord protect them. Oh yes, everyone is there now and