"I am Mara, the daughter of _Massaro_ Agrippino, who is the keeper of
all these fields here."
Jeli then let his grasp relax, and the little girl set to work to pick
up the blackberries that had fallen during their struggle, now and
then glancing with curiosity at her antagonist.
"Just beyond the bridge, on the edge of the orchard, there are lots
of big berries," suggested the little maid, "and the hens are eating
them."
Jeli meantime was creeping off stealthily, and Mara, after standing on
tip-toe to watch him disappearing in the grove, turned her back and
ran home as fast as her legs would carry her.
But from that day forth they began to be friends. Mara went with her
hemp to spin on to the parapet of the little bridge, and Jeli would
slowly drive his cattle toward the slopes of the _poggio del Bandito_.
At first he kept at a distance, roving around and looking from afar,
with suspicion in his face, but he kept gradually edging near, with
the watchful gait of a dog used to stones. When at last he joined her,
they remained long hours without speaking a word, Jeli attentively
watching the intricate work of the stockings which Mara's mamma had
hung round her neck, or she looking on while he carved his pretty
zig-zags on the almond sticks. Then they would separate, he going one
way, she the other, without saying a word, and the little girl as soon
as she was in sight of her house would start to run, kicking high her
petticoat with her little red legs.
When the prickly pears were ripe they would settle down in the thick
of the bushes, peeling the figs all the live-long day. They would
wander together under the immemorial walnuts, and Jeli would beat so
many of the walnuts that they would shower down thick as hail, and the
girl would tire herself out picking them up with jubilant shouts--more
than she could carry; and then she would scamper away nimbly, holding
up the two corners of her apron, bobbing like a little old woman.
During the winter time, Mara dared not put her nose out of doors, it
was so cold. Sometimes toward evening could be seen the smoke of
Jeli's fires of sumach wood, which he built on the _Piano del
lettighiere_, or on the _Poggio di Macca_, so as not to perish of the
cold, like the tomtits which he sometimes found in the morning behind
some rock, or in the shelter of a clod. The horses also found pleasure
in dangling their tails around the fire, and they would cuddle close
together so as to be warmer.
In March, the larks came back to the plain, the sparrows to the roofs,
the leaves and the nests to the hedges. Mara took up her habit of
going about with Jeli in the soft grass among the flowering bushes
under the still bare trees which were just beginning to show tender
points of green. Jeli would make his way through the brambles like a
bloodhound, so as to discover the nests of the blackbirds which would
look up to him in astonishment with their little keen eyes; the two
children would carry, cuddled in their hearts, little wee rabbits just
born, almost without fur, but already quick to move their long ears.
They would scour the fields in pursuit of the drove of horses,
entering the plains behind the hay-gatherers, step for step with the
herd, pausing every time that a mare stopped to pluck a mouthful of
grass. At evening, when they got back to the bridge, they separated,
he going in one direction, she in another, without saying good-by.
Thus they passed the whole summer. When the sun began to go down
behind the _Poggio alla Croce_, the robin red-breasts also went toward
the mountain, as it grew dark, following the light among the clumps of
prickly pears. The crickets and cicadae were no longer heard, and at
that hour a great melancholy spread through the air.
About that time, to Jeli's tumble-down hovel came his father, the
cowherd, who had caught the malaria at Ragoleti, and could scarcely
dismount from the ass which brought him. Jeli started a fire quickly,
and ran to "the hall" for some hen's eggs.
"Put a little straw down in front of the fire as soon as you can,"
said his father, "for I feel the fever returning."
The chill of the fever was so severe that _compare_ Menu buried under
his thick cloak, the saddle-bags of the ass and Jeli's sacks shook as
the leaves do in November, in spite of the great blaze of branches
which made his face white as a corpse.