BEPPE was the eldest son in a little farm-house hidden among the
chestnut woods that clothe the Tuscan Apennines above Pistoia. His
younger brother, Sandro, was already married, and it was decided that
Beppe, too, must take a wife. Another daughter-in-law was wanted in
the house. There really were not enough hands, now that wood must be
stacked, fields dug, and fodder prepared ready for the winter. Moreover
the chestnut harvest was approaching, and too many girls must be hired
unless there were someone else in the family to help with the work.
So Beppe, resigning himself to his fate with all the stolidity that
breathed from his broad, square-cut shoulders and short bull-neck, set
to work to find someone to court. His choice fell on a highly-coloured,
energetic woman, well known through all the country-side as an
indefatigable worker. He bought her a fairing, had the banns published,
and married her in three weeks.
I had been passing a few days in the farm-house, and now received
most pressing invitations to be present at the wedding. The guests
were first to assemble, at about eight o’clock, in the bride’s house;
then after a slight refreshment, _rinfresco_, to go all together to
the church in the village hard by, and thence to return to the Cavi,
Beppe’s home, to dinner at about midday.
The bride lived some miles away, in a little hamlet perched nearly
on the top of the mountain-ridge. The roads were in many places mere
mule-tracks through the wood, and it was doubtful if I could get a
donkey.
“Come to the Cavi, Signorina,” said Beppe; “sleep there, and come out
with us next morning. I’m sure my bride won’t be jealous.”