"The castle is yours, the village is yours, the hills are yours.

Your steward lives in the castle.

You have much property here, more miles of good and bad land than I can tell." "And is it all like this?
Are the people all like these ?" "No.

There are poorer people in the hills." The happy laugh that had come when the wind had blown the olive blossoms of Eboli upon her lap had long been silent now.

Her face was grave and sorrowful, and she drew in her lips as though something hurt her.