She asked why Folco was not with him shooting, and was told that there were no birds in such weather.  She had never understood the winds, nor the points of the compass, nor why one should see the new moon in the west instead of in the east.  Very few women do, but those who live much with men generally end by picking up a few useful expressions, a little phrase-book of jargon terms with which men are quite satisfied.  They find out that a fox has no tail, a wild boar no teeth, a boat no prow, and a yacht no staircase; and this knowledge is better than none.

The Signora accepted the fact that there were no birds that morning, and 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.

On the other side of the cottage, as she went round, she found Folco sitting on the steps of the verandah, his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his folded hands, apparently in deep thought.  He had a cigar between his teeth, but it had gone out.

“I am going to look for Marcello,” said Aurora, as she passed close beside him.

He said nothing, and hardly moved his head.  Aurora turned and looked at him as she stepped upon the path.

“What is the matter?” she asked, as she saw his face.  “Is anything wrong?”

Corbario looked up quickly, as if he had been in a reverie.

“Anything the matter?  No.  Where did you say you were going?”

“To find Marcello.  He has not come in yet.”

“He has gone for a walk, I suppose.  He often walks alone on off days.  He will be back before luncheon, and you are not going to town till the afternoon.”