"hey, boy," she called.

the gardeners boy raised his head, saw maria-nunziata and smiled. she laughed back at him, partly because she had never seen a boy with such long hair and a bow like that on his head. the gardeners boy beckoned to her with one hand, and maria-nunziata went on laughing at the funny gesture hed made, and began gesturing back to explain that she had the dishes to wash.

but the boy beckoned again, and pointed at the pots of dahlias with his other hand. why was he pointing at those dahlias ? maria-nunziata opened the window and put her head out.

"whats up ?" she asked, and began laughing again.

"dyou want to see something nice ?"

"whats that ?"

"something nice. come and see. quickly."

"tell me what."

"ill give you it. ill give you something very nice."

"but ive the dishes to wash, and the signorall come along and not find me."

"do you want it or dont you? come on, now."

"wait a second," said maria-nunziata, and shut the window.

when she came out through the kitchen door the gardeners boy was still there, watering the nasturtiums.

"hallo," said maria-nunziata.

maria-nunziata seemed taller than she was because of her high- heeled shoes, which were a pity to work in, but she loved wearing them. her little face looked like a childs amid its mass of black curls, and her legs were thin and childlike too, though her body, under the folds of her apron, was already round and ripe. she was always laughing: either at what others or she herself said.

"hallo," said the gardeners boy. the skin on his face, neck and chest was dark brown; perhaps because he was always half naked, as now,

"whats your name ?" asked maria-nunziata.

"libereso," said the gardeners boy.

mafia-nunziata laughed and repeated: "libereso... libereso ... what a funny name, libereso."

"its a name in esperanto," he said. "in esperanto it means liberty. "

"esperanto," said maria-nunziata. "are you esperanto?"