The boy, hearing his name, had come shuffling out. He was a
repulsive-looking child, but Modesta smoothed his hair. "To me he
appears constantly more intelligent," she said, hopefully.
Dennison and his visitor, having lighted their cigarettes, now passed
on. The moment their figures had disappeared round a curve the waitress
stooped and took up the waiting Hannibal. "To call thee comical, with
thy little paw in pain!" she murmured in his ear. "But thou knowest that
I did not mean it. 'Twas but politeness for the masters."
The masters went down to Tre Ponti, where they took horses and a
rattling phaeton, and went off on one of those quests with whose mild
excitements Dennison enlivened his quiet Italian days. This time it was
a search for some tapestry, which had been discovered, so it was said,
in a villa six miles distant. The villa was one of those which had
degenerated, having been used for the last hundred years as a
farm-house. During the preceding week an addition had been pulled down,
and the demolition had uncovered a window which corresponded to nothing
within; further search had revealed a walled-up chamber, and it was this
chamber which contained the tapestry. The chamber was there--a small
room with a high ceiling. It contained no tapestry; nothing, in fact,
but one singular object: a lady's toilet-table with a lace cover, an old
mirror, two candlesticks, and various saucers, vials, and boxes. The
lace, which was falling to pieces from age, was ordinary in quality; the
mirror-frame and the candlesticks were made of metal that imitates
bronze; and the saucers, vials, and boxes were of glass that imitates
crystal; nothing, therefore, had intrinsic value. Dennison made a small
offer for the whole just as it stood, in case the government should not
lay claim to the objects.
"It's only for the riddle," he said to his companion, as they drove back
to Tre Ponti. "There is a history, of course, and nobody can ever know
it; that is the charm; one can fancy anything one pleases. If I get the
table, I'll put it in one of the unused bedrooms. And then when there
comes a wild windy night, such as we sometimes have in Tuscany, I'll go
there after midnight, and see if she don't glide slowly in and look at
herself in her old glass."
It was late in the afternoon when they drove through the eastern gate of
Three Bridges. Leaving the phaeton at the stable, they strolled about
the village for a while before returning to Casa Colombina.
But village is hardly the word. Although Tre Ponti has never contained
more than two thousand inhabitants (at present there are but fifteen
hundred), it is surrounded by an important stone wall with bastions, and
two of the old gateways, massive arched portals, are still in use. The
narrow winding streets are paved with broad flag-stones, which reach to
the house walls on each side, so that one seems to be following hallways
open at the top rather than roads. Nowhere is there an inch of garden;
the high blocks stand side by side in solid rows. The only
breathing-place is the central square; one side of this piazza is
embellished by a palazzo-pubblico, or town-hall, decorated with griffins
and armorial bearings. Along another side there is an arcade ornamented
with a row of heads by Andrea della Robbia, old women, monks, knights,
children, and others, each looking out with life-like expression from a
heavy frame of clustered porcelain fruit.
"Those frames of fruit would do for a State fair," said Gray,
irreverently. "Queer, solid, stony little place! Somehow it looks
fierce, too."
"Naturally. They did almost nothing here but fight for hundreds of
years; they fought with every town in Tuscany. And almost every town in
Tuscany responded by fighting with them."
When Gray had seen everything, they passed through the western gate,
taking the road which leads down the hill and across one of the three
bridges; on the other side of this bridge begins the path which is a
short-cut to Casa Colombina.
In the open space outside of this gate there stands a small café of the
most modern type. Its exterior is adorned in fresco on one side of the
door with a portrait of Garibaldi as large as life. On the other side
there is a second work of art, a painted open window from whose lattice
leans a damsel, dressed in the remarkable apparel which is produced by a
translation of the latest Paris fashions into Italian. This damsel
hospitably offers to the passers-by a glass of wine. "Let's breathe,"
said Dennison, seating himself on one of the benches which, with a green
table, was placed before the door.
"You want to attach yourself to every bench you see, Jack."
"On the contrary, I much prefer my own, at home. It's only for your sake
that I go tramping about the country in this way, on my feet."
"What do they have in such a place as this?" asked Gray, fanning himself
with his hat. "We can't sit here without ordering something."
"Yes, we can. Don't be throwing your money about."
"Only a quarter. What can I get for that?"
"Red vinegar."
At this moment the proprietor of the café came forth, carrying a
three-legged stool and a brazier filled with hot coals. He saluted the
gentlemen with a beaming smile, but made no effort to solicit their
patronage; placing the stool and the brazier at a little distance, he
returned to the house, and came forth again with a large shallow pan,
whose bottom was covered with a layer half an inch deep of coffee in
the berry. Seating himself on the stool, he began to roast the coffee,
holding the pan over the coals by its long handle, and swaying it
slightly from side to side with a rhythmical motion. He was a
picturesque young man, with a brilliant pink silk handkerchief round his
neck. Whenever his roving glance happened to meet that of either of the
Americans he smiled genially, as though he wished to assure them that,
whatever their mood might be, he should be sure to sympathize with it if
admitted to their confidence.
"Ask him for the wine," said Gray.
"You can't possibly drink it," expostulated Dennison.
"I'll take it to Modesta--for her Friday beggars. You won't? Very well,
then, I'll do it myself. Here, vyno! Vyno, do you hear? Vyno bono. Oon
liry. _Oon!_" And he held up one finger.
The young landlord, with cordial smiles, put down his pan, hurried into
the house, and returned with two little tumblers, and one of the
graceful Tuscan flasks swathed in its covering of plaited straw. Taking
out the stopper, he removed with exaggerated care the protecting layer
of oil by means of a long wisp, and then placed the flask on the table
with a flourish. "Ecco!"
"They always understand me," said Gray, complacently, when the coffee
roasting had begun again.
"They would understand a Patagonian; one who was a lunatic, and dumb!"
"That is what I mean; they are so extraordinarily intelligent," replied
Gray, declining to be snubbed.
Tre Ponti was keeping the festa with much gayety; the streets were full
of strolling figures; the benches in front of all the cafés were full.
This little way-side hostlery beyond the gate now began to receive its
share; four men coming to town from a distant podere stopped here to
refresh themselves with wine and chunks of the dark Italian bread. Then
came a procession of youths returning from an expedition up the valley.
They wore branches of blossoms in their hats, and kept step as they
marched. More wine was brought out, and they all drank.
"I have not seen a drunken man in Italy," said Gray; "it's perfectly
wonderful. Think of the whiskey and whiskey-brawls at home! Think of the
gin and horrible wife-beating in England!"
"I don't know why I should think of them. They're not pleasant
subjects."
A party of women now appeared, coming through the gateway from the town;
one of them had a baby in her arms, and another was carrying a heavy boy
of three, whose head, adorned with a red cap, lay sleepily on her
shoulder. Set in the wall outside of this gateway there is a large
shrine shielded by a grating. It bears an inscription in
Italian--"Erected in token of mercies felt on this spot." There is a low
marble step outside of the grating, and the woman who had the older
child knelt down here for a moment, and made the child kneel by her
side; taking some flowers from the knot at her belt, she showed him how
to throw them through the grating as far as he could, as an offering to
the Madonna within. The boy obeyed her; and then she gently bent his
head forward with her hand as salutation. The other women knelt also,
after this one had risen; but they did it perfunctorily; they bobbed
down and bobbed up again, crossing themselves, the whole process taking
about two seconds.
"The one carrying the red-capped boy is your waitress again," said Gray,
as the women, their devotions over, drew nearer on their way to the
bridge. "What is she doing down here?"
"It's her home; she is a Tre Ponti girl--was born here; and her family
live here still. She herself much prefers the town to the country; she
shares to the full the ideas which Browning expressed in 'Up in a Villa,
Down in the City.'"
Modesta had now discovered them, and paused, while the women who were
with her gave such a general greeting to "lordships" that it seemed to
Gray that he beheld several yards of white teeth, surmounted by rows of
dark eyes whose depths held a sweetness which no Northern orbs could
ever contain.
"I accompany for a short distance my friend Paola," explained the
waitress, "Paola being tired, and having already the baby to carry.
This, the one I have, is her Angelo--as the master can perceive for
himself, an angel indeed--though his little ankles are not strong.
But--what would they have? That requires patience; it will improve. The
masters would like without doubt to see also the baby? A miracle of
beauty!" And giving the older child to one of her companions, she took
the swaddled infant from its mother, and brought it to Dennison and his
friend, a smile of pure enthusiasm irradiating her face. "His cheeks--do
the masters behold them? And his eyes like stars? Lordships can note the
quality of his arms."
Gray lightly pinched the dimpled roll of fat extended towards him. "Oui,
oui. Grandeena!" he said, emphatically.
Modesta appeared to be charmed with this attention; she thanked him
warmly. Then she carried the baby back to its mother, kissing it before
she gave it up, and, taking the other child, led the way down the hill,
the whole party making fresh obeisances before they turned away.
"What frank, pleasant faces they all have!" said Gray.
"Very frank. They never changed a muscle when, as a token of your
admiration of the baby, you told them that it was hailing."
"Hailing? What are you talking about? I said the baby's arm was big."
"Grandina happens to mean 'it is hailing'; that's all."
"It couldn't; it wouldn't be such a fool! Are we going to stay here all
night? It's awfully dusty."
For the open space outside of the gate was now filled with loungers, and
the café of Garibaldi was crowded both inside and out; the two Americans
left their bench and strolled down the hill. When they reached the
bridge they stopped to watch the water. As they did so they heard music;
down the gorge beside the stream came a party of girls, two and two,
with linked arms; they were singing all together something slow and
sweet, and as they passed under the bridge each gave a glance upward
towards the two gentlemen who were leaning over the parapet to look at
them.
"What are they singing?" asked Gray.
"A hymn to the Virgin, with an endless number of verses; stay here a
month, and you'll hear it so often that you'll sing it in your sleep."
"That girl who was last did not look like an Italian," Gray went on, as
the musical band disappeared round a bend.
"She isn't; she is a Swede. She was brought here last summer by a queer
old English woman, who has lived for ten years, off and on, in that
villa just above the second bridge; she had a fancy for servants who
could not speak a word of English, and she picked up this girl in
Stockholm during one of her journeys--for when she wasn't in Tuscany,
she was trotting all over the globe. She died, at the last, suddenly; it
was two months ago, and, so far, her heirs in England, distant cousins,
I believe, have refused to do anything for this stranded maid. The
Swedish consul, however, has taken it up, and I hear that there is
prospect of a remittance some time or other--enough to pay her expenses
back to Stockholm. Fortunately for herself, she had learned to speak
Italian. And she had made friends in Tre Ponti; she is staying with
these friends now, and turning her hand meanwhile to anything that
offers in order to support herself until the money comes. Let's go home
and have some tea. Dinner will be very late this evening on account of
the festa; no hope of its being on the table before nine o'clock."
"Just a minute more," said Gray.
It was no wonder that the man who was unfamiliar with the scene should
wish to linger. The sun was sinking out of sight, sending up broad
shafts of gold as he disappeared; above the gold a deep rose tint filled
the sky. The water of the stream was gilded, and gilded were the
bristling turrets of a fourteenth-century monastery, which here crowns a
crag where the gorge makes a bend towards the south. Opposite, beyond
Casa Colombina, the soaring Tower of the Dove was flushed with pink. And
on the eastern side, over their heads, the little stone town with its
bastioned walls was colored in bars of salmon and pearl. The close
circle of hills, the wider amphitheatre of mountains behind, all of them
clothed in the violet mantle which mountains wear in Italy, were tipped
with orange. And somehow all these lovely hues seemed to deepen as the
chimes of Tre Ponti began to ring the Angelus. The peal of the monastery
on the crag soon joined in the anthem, these latter bells flinging
themselves far out from their open belfry against the sky, to and fro,
to and fro, with an abandon which was in itself a picture. And when the
chime stopped, music of another kind took its place, for coming up the
road appeared the same band of girls singing their slow hymn; they had
left the gorge, and were returning by way of the bridge to Tre Ponti.
They were no longer a small company; a dozen women had joined them, and
six or eight youths followed behind. Modesta accompanied the girls,
having finished her duties as escort to Paola and her children.
"Here is your waitress coming back," said Gray. "How handsome she
looks!"
The arch of the bridge is high, and the ascent which leads to it steep;
the two gentlemen were standing in a small projecting half-bastion,
which once served, no doubt, as a sentry-box; their figures were
therefore inconspicuous from below, and no one saw them. Modesta walked
beside one of the girls. Her arms were folded, her hands resting upon
them tranquilly; she was clad in a dress of dark blue tint, with a
kerchief of cream-colored silk folded over her breast, and in her hair
there was a crimson rose; she was singing as she walked, joining in the
hymn to the Virgin, and her eyes were slightly raised, fixed dreamily
upon the tinted sky. As the group approached the ascent leading to the
bridge, a girl at the end of the procession began playfully to push
against one of her companions, and the pushing ended in a hoidenish
race, the two turning and rushing back down the road, the one who had
been attacked in pursuit of the aggressor. The others paused, and stood
watching the chase, but without stopping their hymn, which went steadily
on, though, as the pursued girl doubled unexpectedly and baffled her
pursuer, the mouths of the singers became so widely stretched in their
glee that it was impossible for them to pronounce their syllables, and
they carried the melody on mechanically, without words and almost in a
shriek.
"Modesta is the only one who appears to remember that it is a hymn,"
remarked Gray.
"Hymn? It's a him of another kind. She probably doesn't know that she is
singing at all; much less what. And she doesn't even see those racing
tomboys. She only knows one thing, sees one thing, and that is her
Goro."
"Goro?"
"Yes; the young fellow she is going to marry. He is just behind
her--there at her elbow. You've seen him in our vineyard half a dozen
times."
"He appeared dull enough there! To-day he looks very smart. However, he
is much too young for her--hardly more than a boy."
The pursued girl had now escaped, and was returning. The pursuer
followed, and as they both reached the waiting group she made a last
desperate effort, and succeeded in grasping the other again, and so
firmly that they both fell to the ground. The hymn now ceased abruptly,
drowned in the general laughter as the two girls struggled in the dust.
After a moment they rose, shaking their skirts, and joining in the
merriment, until suddenly there came from one of them a high yell.
Drawing herself away from the others, she stood with her body stiffened
as though it had been turned into wood, and her eyes closed, while she
poured forth in a shrill voice a flood of rapid Italian. Her companions
meanwhile were so overcome with their laughter as they listened that
they rocked to and fro, and clapped their hands on their sides.
"What was she saying?" asked Gray, when at last the piercing voice
stopped.
"You wish a sample? She said, 'Brute, thou! Beast, thou! Thou it is who
hast done it, pig of a Vanna! For thou puttest me in a fury so that I
said evil words. And now what is the use of my Lent? Didn't I drop with
fasting? Wasn't I faint? Didn't I do every one of my devotions? And now
all lost through _thee_. Serpent! and frog!'"
Modesta had paid no more attention to this raving outburst than she had
paid to the race which had preceded it; she had stopped singing when the
others stopped, but her eyes still gazed dreamily at the sky. After a
moment or two she turned so that her glance could take in Goro, and then
she stood tranquilly waiting, her face serene, content.
Presently the little company, its laugh out, began to move on again,
coming up the ascent in a straggling band, the girl who had yelled forth
her accusations with her body stiffened so strangely accompanying them,
her fit of excitement ended. She even tried to frolic in a shamefaced
sort of way; she took the flower from her hair, threw it up and caught
it, as though it were a ball, humming a tune to herself carelessly. As
they reached the bridge the band perceived the two gentlemen in the
semi-bastion; all, that is, save Modesta. In her absorption the waitress
saw nothing, until the girl who was beside her pulled her sleeve.
"The master, thine," she whispered. "Thy two lordships."
The waitress now came back to actual life. She waited a moment, until
the others had passed on. "It is Goro," she said, presenting him. "The
masters already know him well."
"Not in his festival clothes," answered Dennison. "He is nothing," he
added, banteringly; "not half good enough! I wouldn't have him, Modesta,
if I were you."
When Dennison said "He is nothing," Goro answered, "È vero" (It is
true), and laughed lightly. He was a tall, strong youth, with curling
hair and a joyous smile.
"Eh--he wishes me so much good!" replied Modesta, fondly.
The next morning Gray took another sunrise walk; he had but five days
more to spend in Tuscany, and he wished to make every hour tell. When he
came back the waitress was in the court, occupied in tying a long cord
to Hannibal's collar; beside her were two towels and a cake of soap.
"It is Annibale, who goes now for his bath," she explained; "Peppino
takes him. A bath is excellent for Annibale."
The dog's spirits were deeply depressed; his elongated little body
seemed almost to sweep the ground, owing to the dejected state of his
short legs. "It is nothing, thou silly one!" said Modesta,
affectionately. "Thou must be washed--that thou knowest. And as the
morning is so warm, thou art to go to the pond."
Peppino now came from the kitchen, ready for the expedition. With a
salute to their visitor, he took the end of the cord in his hand, and
turned down the path which leads to the fields below.
"I'll go too," said Gray. "Ego," he added, tapping his breast violently,
to show that he meant himself.
The two servants were charmed with this idea; Modesta said that it would
give Hannibal courage to be accompanied by the gentleman, and Peppino
added that it was "too much honor." The cook was very tall, with the
countenance of a seer; in his spotless white linen jacket, his long
white apron, and white linen cap, his appearance, with his dark eyes and
thick gray hair, was striking. He was suspected of belonging to a secret
society of nihilistic principles; but his nihilism must have applied
only to mankind, for he went down the hill as slowly as he could, in
order that Hannibal's neck should not be hurt by undue pressure from his
collar. For the dog was following at the extreme length of his cord,
dragging back obstinately with all his might, and digging his crooked
little paws as deeply into the sand as he possibly could with each
reluctant step; as Peppino was six feet in height, and Hannibal ten
inches, the spectacle was amusing. At the foot of the hill the glitter
of the pond became visible, and Hannibal's resistance grew so desperate
that Peppino went back and picked him up, carrying him onward in his
arms as though he had been a baby. "Most surely he must not be
permitted to strangle himself," he explained to Gray in his serious
voice.
The valley fields belonging to Casa Colombina are six in number; five
are for grain and one for vegetables, and all are bordered by rows of
fruit-trees, with grape-vines trained to swing from trunk to trunk.
These fields are watered by artificial rivulets, which are fed from the
pond. And the pond is in reality a reservoir for the water of a spring
above. They passed the spring first. It is covered by a roof which
extends some distance beyond it, supported by pillars of brick; the
ground beneath is paved with flag-stones, and here were assembled a
collection of the large tubs, of red earthen-ware, in shape and hue like
mammoth flower-pots, which the Tuscan peasants use for washing clothes.
Above the spring, fastened to one of the pillars, was a china image of
St. Agnes, and beneath the image there was a hanging lamp with one wick,
its tiny flame like a pale yellow point in the brilliant morning light.
"Modesta?" said Gray, indicating the lamp as they passed.
The cook nodded affirmatively.
"She is foolishly superstitious," he said. "But women--" A shrug
completed the sentence.
[Illustration: "THE DOG WAS FOLLOWING AT THE EXTREME LENGTH OF HIS
CORD"]
The pool was square, paved within, and bordered by a low stone parapet;
the water was not quite a foot deep. Peppino soaped Hannibal carefully
until he was a mass of white lather; then he placed him gently in the
pool, and kept him from returning to the shore by the aid of a long
branch. "Walk about, then; walk! Agitate thyself," he said, pressing him
softly with the twigs. Hannibal walked as little as he possibly
could; his indignation was plainly visible even in the tip of his
nose, which was the only part of him above the water. When he was judged
to be sufficiently laved the branch was withdrawn, and as he leaped out
the cook caught him and dried him with a towel. Another towel was then
folded closely round him and fastened with long tapes, leaving only his
head and paws and tail free. "Now must thou run back, so as not to take
cold," said Peppino, putting on the collar and readjusting the cord. And
then the procession returned, the swathed Hannibal this time as far in
advance as the cord would permit, and pulling up the hill like a
miniature steam-engine. "He is anxious to get back to Modesta," said
Gray.
The cook comprehended. "It is true. She spoils him with her indulgence;
it is a melancholy weakness in her character," he replied, as with his
disengaged hand he took his red handkerchief from his pocket and wiped
his face, which was heavily bedewed with drops of perspiration, owing to
his exertions at the pond.