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Nunzia stood up and tried to collect herself, clinging to the young woman. Finally, she disappeared among the dishes and began to prepare lunch.

In the afternoon, Concetta and Sina helped their mother mend some sheets. There was no money to buy new ones. Moreover, because of the war, the village haberdasher’s had not been supplied for a long time, the peddlers no longer came by, and everything had to be saved: needles, thread, buttons. Only thoughts and sighs had no price or end.

Now and then, Concetta, the oldest of the daughters, would look up at her mother in the hope of seeing whether that distressing moment had passed. So, as soon as she noticed she was calmer, she stopped patching and, without explanation, walked alone down the road to San Basilio.

When she arrived near Duca’s house, Concetta heard the cheerful voice of Zi Nunzio, who was sitting outside, joyfully singing a ballad with his accordion. He greeted his niece without stopping to play and sing, and the girl sat down next to him to listen to him out of respect and because she was enjoying it.