came to Verbicaro to buy wine and had known their father, and knew them.
He would certainly give them a piece of bread. As he saw them coming
his quiet eyes watched them, and followed them as they came up the
beach. But he did not turn his head, nor move hand or foot, even when
they were close to him. He looked so solid and determined to stand still
where he was, in the door of his shop, that you might have taken him for
an enormous lay figure of a man, made of carved oak and dressed up for a
sign to his own business. The two lads touched their ragged woollen caps
and stood looking at him, wondering whether he would ever move. At last
his grey eyes twinkled.

"Have you never seen a Christian before?" he inquired in a deep gruff
voice.

He did not seem to be in a good humour. The boys drew back somewhat in
awe, and sat down to rest on the stones by the wall. Still Antonino's
eyes followed them, though he did not move. Sebastiano looked up at him
uneasily from time to time, but Ruggiero gazed steadily at the sea with
the affectation of proud indifference to scrutiny, which is becoming in
a boy of twelve years. At last the old man stirred, turned slowly as on
a pivot and went into the shop.

"Is it not better to speak to him?" asked Sebastiano of his brother in
a whisper.

"No. He is deaf. If he did not understand us he would be angry and would
give us no bread."

Presently Don Antonino came out again. He held half a loaf and a big
slab of goat's-milk cheese between his huge thumb and finger. He paused