er any of Alfio's
compositions had been published.

"Alfio don't be writing no compositions."

"He told me he was composing music."

"Alfio never compose something. Too busy. Look here, the student that
shall be always making the exercise he don't be never composing the
music."

"But that polka? Don't you remember he came over to the albergo and
played us his polka?"

"Alfio don't write the polka. His professor gave him the polka to copy
for study."

"Oh! I see. Well, now don't you think we have had enough tragedies? Has
nothing pleasant happened in the town since--? What a stupid question!
Here is Brancaccia bringing the answer."

Brancaccia not only brought the baby, she also brought to show me the
clothes in which he had been christened, just as on my last visit, before
he was born, she had brought and shown me the clothes in which she had
been married. I have a confused recollection of fine muslin and
embroidery and pretty gay ribbons. I remember more clearly her necklace
of Sicilian amber which has been in the family for generations and, in
the natural order of things, will one day be passed on to the wife of
Ricuzzu. Each piece of amber is circular, flat underneath and convex
above, and is surrounded with a fine golden band whereby it is joined to
the next, side by side. The two smallest, at the back of the wearer's
neck, near the clasp, are about as big as threepenny bits, and the pieces
increase in size through sixpences, shillings, florins, half-crowns,
until the one in the middle on her breast is nearly as large as a
five-shilling piece. They are all sorts of colours, honey-yellow, rich
orange, Venetian red, brown sherry, some clear and some clouded, some
have insects in them, some when held properly in the sunlight, have a
fluorescent, hazy tinge like the blue in a horse's eye, some are a
peacock-green and others a deep purple. The largest piece is green, and
has objects in it which Brancaccia says are cherry-blossoms. Peppino
accepts his wife's view because it amuses him to call this piece The
Field of Enna, where Proserpine was gathering flowers when Pluto carried
her off, and these are the flowers she was gathering. But he knows that
this kind of amber is called Simetite, because it is the fossilised resin
of some prehistoric tree that used to grow on the upper reaches of the
river Simeto which rises at the back of Etna, beyond Bronte, and falls
into the sea near Catania; whereas Ca