It is they, too, who return to harvest the crop under the fatal heat of the summer sun.

They attack a field waving with golden corn.

They reap from dawn to dusk, with no food more nourishing than bread and cheese.

They sleep in the open field, regardless of the nocturnal exhalations which float around them--and some of them never rise again.

Those who survive ten days of a harvest more destructive than many a battle, return to their native village with some four or five scudi in their pockets.
If these men could obtain a long lease, or merely take the land from year to year, they would make more money, and the dangers to be encountered would be no greater.