"Pilgrim swallow, lightly winging,
Now upon the terrace sitting,
Ev'ry morn I hear thee singing,
In sad tones thy song repeating.
What may be the tale thou'rt telling,
Pilgrim swallow, near my dwelling?
"Thou art happier far than I am;
On free wing at least thou'rt flying
Over lake and breezy mountain.
Thou canst fill the air with crying
His dear name through cave and hollow.
Thou art free, thou pretty swallow."
It was so familiar a song that all the people joined with them in
singing it, and some of them danced to the music of the hand-organ when
it played, so that altogether the villagers had a gay time, and as a
result Carlotta found many more coins than usual in the tambourine when
the performance was over. She glanced triumphantly at her husband as
she counted the money. "We have caught two pigeons with one pea after
all," she said to him.
"As for that lazy Ugolone, he gets no supper! If he will not work, he
shall not eat!"
The children heard and shuddered. "She will treat us like that, too,"
sobbed Beppina, "and if she's truly a witch she may even turn us into
bears!"
Out through sunny vineyards and grey olive orchards beyond the town they
followed the winding road, and, as night came on, the weary children saw
that they were approaching a ruined castle set high on a spur of the
Apennines. The wind swept over the bare hill-top and whistled through
the windows of its ruined towers, where hundreds of years before lovely
ladies had watched their knights ride forth to battle.
It was a bleak and lonely spot, fit only to be inhabited by ghosts, and
Beppina shivered as the wheels of the van rattled over the ancient
draw-bridge, and stopped in the overgrown court-yard.
"I know it's enchanted," she whispered to Beppo, and Beppo, his own
teeth chattering, could only say, "Remember about the prince," to keep
up their failing courage.
There was no sign of human beings about the place, and Luigi took
possession as if he owned it. He tied Ugolone in the ruins of what had
once been a stately banqueting-hall, and let the donkeys eat their
supper from the green grass which carpeted the court-yard.
Soon a fire was blazing in the ruins of an ancient chimney, and the
tired travellers gathered about it for their evening meal. From the
tower came the surprised hoot of a solitary owl, and bats, disturbed by
the light, swooped in great circles about the little group as they
silently ate their polenta. Even the monkey seemed to feel the weird
spell of the place, for she cowered in a corner by the fire, chattering
to herself, while from the banqueting-hall came the complaining growls
of poor hungry Ugolone. It was to such music as this that the children
of the Marchese at last fell asleep.