‘East, west, home’s best.”

‘Good for you, St. Agatha,’ said her grandfather firmly. ‘That’s sensible talk.’

‘Yes,’ snarled ’Ntoni, ‘and in the meantime, when we’ve sweated and strained to make our nest, we’ll be short of things to put on our bread; and when we’ve managed to get back the house by the medlar tree, we’ll have to carry on working our guts out from Monday to Saturday; and it will never end.’

‘So you want to stop working? What would you rather do? play the lawyer?’

‘I don’t want to play the lawyer,’ grumbled ’Ntoni, and went off to bed in a bad temper.

But from then on he thought of nothing except that trouble-free existence which other people led; and of an evening, to avoid their insipid chatter, he sat himself on the doorstep with his shoulders to the wall, watching people pass by, and digesting his hard lot; at least like that he was resting, ready for the next day, when he would go back to doing the same old thing, just like Mosca’s donkey, which would draw its breath as soon as it saw its owner reaching for the pack saddle, waiting to be harnassed.

‘Donkey flesh,’ he would grumble; ‘that’s what we are: labouring flesh.’ And it was quite clear that he was tired of that dreary life, and wanted to go off and make his fortune, like the others; so that his mother, poor thing, stroked his shoulders and caressed him with the tone of her voice, and with her tear-filled eyes, peering at him fixedly so as to read what was written inside his head and to touch his heart. But he said no, it would be better for him and for them; and when he came back they would all be happy. The poor woman didn’t close an eye all night, and soaked her pillow with tears. Finally padron ’Ntoni noticed, and called his grandson outside, beside the little shrine, to ask him what was wrong.

‘Come on, what’s brewing? Tell your grandfather now.’

’Ntoni shrugged; but the old man kept on nodding his head, and spitting, and scratching his head as he searched for words.

‘Oh, you’ve got something cooking, my boy! Something new.’

‘What’s cooking is that I’m a poor devil, that’s what’s cooking!’

‘What’s new about that? Didn’t you know? That’s what your father was, and your grandfather before him.’ ‘He who is content in his poverty is wonderfully rich’ ‘Better to be content than to lament.”

‘Some comfort that is!’

This time the old man found words quickly, because he felt his heart on his lips:

‘At least don’t say as much in front of your mother.’

‘My mother… would have done better never to have borne me.’

‘Yes,’ agreed padron ’Ntoni, ‘yes, she would, if it means that you’re talking like this today.’

For a moment ’Ntoni didn’t know what to say.

‘Well,’ he said at last, ‘I’m doing it for you, for her, for all of us. I want to make my mother rich, that’s what I want to do. Now we’re leaving no stone unturned for the house and Mena’s dowry; and then Lia will be growing up, and if by chance we have a bad year, we’ll still be in dire poverty. I don’t want to carry on like this. I want to change my life, for myself and all of you. I want us to be rich, mother, you, Mena, Alessi and everyone.’

Padron ’Ntoni eyes widened, and he chewed over those words, as if he couldn’t quite swallow them.

‘Rich,’ he said,’rich. And what will we do when we’re rich?’

’Ntoni scratched his head, and he too started to think what they would do.

‘We’ll do what other people do… nothing, that’s what we’ll do… we’ll go and live in the town, and eat pasta and meat every day.’

‘You go and live in the town if you want to. I want to die where I was born;’ and thinking of the house where he had been born, and which was no longer his, he let his head droop on to his chest.

‘You are a boy, and you know nothing… you know nothing! You’ll see what it’s like when you can no longer sleep in your own bed; when the sun no longer comes in through your window. You’ll see! You listen to an old man’ The poor fellow was coughing fit to choke, with his back all bent, and shaking his head sadly:

“East, west, home’s best.’ Do you see those sparrows? They’ve always made their nests there, and they’ll carry on doing so — and they don’t want to go away.’

‘I’m not a sparrow. I’m not a creature like them,’ answered ’Ntoni. ‘I don’t want to live like a dog on a chain, like compare Alfio’s donkey, or mule on a chain pump, always keeping the wheel turning, I don’t want to die of hunger in a corner, or be swallowed up by sharks.’

‘You should rather thank God, who caused you to be born here; and think twice before going off to die far from the stones which know you. ‘Better the devil you know.’ You’re afraid of work, you’re afraid of poverty; and I have neither your strength nor your health, but I’m not afraid, you’ll see. ‘The pilot in the dangerous seas is known’. You’re afraid of having to earn the bread you eat, that’s what it is! Your great grandfather, God rest his soul, left me the Provvidenza and five mouths to feed, I was younger than you are and I wasn’t afraid; and I did my duty without complaining; and I still do; and I pray God to help me carry on doing it as long as I’ve got breath in my body, as your father did, and your brother Luca, God rest his soul — he wasn’t afraid to go and do his duty; and as your mother did, too, poor woman, locked away amidst these four walls; you’ve no idea of the tears she has shed, the tears she’s shedding now because you want to leave; and in the morning your sister finds the sheets all wet. But she holds her tongue and doesn’t come out with any of these things that come into your head; and she too has worked away like some poor ant; she’d done nothing else all her life, until it fell to her lot to cry too much, right from when she was giving you the breast, and you couldn’t even button up your trousers; because then the temptation of exercising your legs one in front of the other and going about the world like a gypsy hadn’t even entered your head.’

In the end ’Ntoni began to cry like a child, because basically the boy had a heart as good as bread; but the next day he started off again. In the morning he unwillingly let himself be loaded up with tackle, and went off to the sea grumbling:

‘Just like compare Alfio’s donkey! at first light I crane my neck to see if they’re coming to saddle me up.’ After they had cast the nets, he left Alessi to move the oar gently so as to keep the boat steady, and put his hands under his armpits to gaze into the distance, to where the sea ended, and there were those big cities where you didn’t do anything except walk up and down and do nothing; or he would think of the two sailors who had come back from so far, and who had now been gone for some time; but it seemed to him that they had nothing else to do except wander the world, from one wine shop to another, spending the money they had in their pockets. In the evening, after having tidied up the boat and tackle, his family left him to wander around like a stray dog, so as not to have to look at that long face of his.

‘What’s wrong, ’Ntoni?’ la Longa asked him, gazing timidly into his face, with her eyes bright with tears, because the poor creature guessed what was wrong. ‘Tell your own mother.’ He wouldn’t answer; or he answered that nothing was wrong. But at last he did tell her what was wrong, that his grandfather and the others had it in for him, and he had had enough. He wanted to go and seek his fortune, like all the others.

His mother listened to him, and she didn’t dare open her mouth, with her eyes full of tears, so much did what he was saying hurt her, and he cried and shuffled his feet and tugged at his hair. The poor thing would have liked to speak, and throw her arms around him and cry too, so as not to let him go; but whenever she started to say anything, her lips would tremble and she couldn’t utter a word.

‘Listen,’ she said at last, ‘You go, if you want to go, but you won’t find me here when you come back, because now I feel old and tired, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to take this last blow.’

’Ntoni tried to reassure her, said that he would come back loaded with money and they would all be happy. Maruzza shook her head sadly, still looking into his eyes, and said no, no, he wouldn’t find her there when he came back.

‘I feel old,’ she repeated, ‘I feel old, look at me! Now I no longer have the strength to cry as much as when they brought me the news of your father and your brother. If I go to the wash place, in the evening I come home so tired I can do nothing; and it didn’t used to be like that. No, my son, I’m no longer the woman I was. Then, when your father and brother died, I was younger and stronger.