Our mountain people eat scarcely anything else, unless it be a little meat on holidays, or an egg when the hens are laying.

But they laugh and chatter over the coarse fare, and drink a little wine when they can get it.

Just now, however, was the season for fasting, being the end of Holy Week, and the people made a virtue of necessity, and kept their eggs and their wine for Easter.
When Nino went out he found his countryman, and explained to him what he was to do.

The man saddled one of the mules and put himself on the watch, while Nino sat by the fire in the quaint old inn and ate some bread.

It was the end of March when these things happened, and a little fire was grateful, though one could do very well without it.