began to talk to Maddalena. Aurora got a book and pretended to read, but
she was really listening for Marcello's footsteps, and wondering
whether he would smile at her, or would still be cross when he came in.
Corbario finished his paper and went off to look at the weather from the
other side of the house, and the two women talked in broken sentences as
old friends do, with long intervals of silence.

The wind had moderated a good deal, but as the sun rose higher the glare
in the sky grew more yellow, the air was much warmer, and the trees and
shrubs and long grass began to steam as if they had been half boiled.
All manner of tiny flies and gnats chased each other in the lurid light.

"It feels as if there were going to be an earthquake," said Maddalena,
throwing back the lace from her grey hair as if even its light weight
oppressed her.

"Yes."

The women sat in silence, uneasy, their lips a little parted. Not that
an earthquake would have disturbed them much, for slight ones are common
enough in Italy, and could do no harm at all to a wooden cottage; it was
a mere physical breathlessness that they felt, as the gale suddenly
dropped and the heavy air became quite still on the sheltered side of
the cottage.

Aurora threw aside her book impatiently and rose from her chair.

"I am going to look for Marcello," she said, and she went off without
turning her head.