Leaving the _vettura_, they mounted the steep road, seeing above them
the ruined walls, once the ramparts of the town, crowned by gray old
houses with tiled roofs rising one over the other, and soon entered the
Maggiore Gate with its round arch, its architecture noting a time when
Segni was not quite the unknown place it now is. As they entered the
gate, seeing the cleanly-dressed country people seated on the stone
benches under its shadow--the women with their blue woolen shawls formed
into coifs falling over head and shoulders, loose and pendent white
linen sleeves, and black woolen boddices tightly laced, calico or woolen
skirts, and dark blue woolen aprons with broad bands of yellow or red;
while the men wore blue knee-breeches, brown woolen stockings, and blue
jackets, with here and there a short scarlet waistcoat, and all with
black conical felt hats, sometimes ornamented with a flower--noting all
this, our artists knew it was Sunday or a festival. It was both.
The main street was very narrow--the houses so close together that a
donkey loaded with brush-wood could hardly scrape through--and so steep
that he had hard work to get a foot-hold on the smooth, worn stones
serving to pave it. The buildings were all of that sombre gray stone so
picturesque in paintings, and so pleasant for the eye to rest on, yet
withal suggesting no brilliant ideas of cleanliness or even neatness.
The houses were rarely over two stories in hight, the majority only one
story, and but very few of them boasted glazed window-frames,
board-shutters letting in light or keeping out rain. Two twists through
the narrow streets, or rather alleys, a right-angled turn, a wheel to
the left, then straight forward thirty steps, and lo! they were in the
inn, alias _locanda_, of Gaetano. As soon as rooms could be given them,
our artists, spite of its being daylight, took a long nap, induced by
traveling all night without sleep.
About noon the landlord, Gaetano, aroused them with the fact that dinner
was ready. They made a hearty meal, the landlord being careful to wish
them 'good appetite' before they commenced. When it was over, and they
were about to rise and go forth to discover if there was a café in the
town, the waiter-girl appeared with two large dishes, on one of which
were green peas in the pod, and on the other goat's-milk cheese.
'I know what the cheese is for,' said Caper, 'but it seems to me an odd
way, to send in peas for the guests to shell for them.'
'Perhaps,' said Dexter, 'as they've no opera-house here, it's one of
their amusements.'
'Can you tell me,' asked Rocjean of the stout waiter-girl, 'what we are
to do with those peas?'
'Eh? Why, Signor, they are the fruit. You eat them.'
'Pods and all?'
'Certainly; they are very sweet and tender.'
'No, thank you. You can take them away. Will you send the _padrone_
here?'
In came the landlord, and then and there a bargain was struck. For forty
cents a day, he agreed to give them individually:
First. Breakfast, consisting of eggs, bread, butter, fruit in season,
one dish of meat, a pint of good wine, and a cup of coffee.
Second. Dinner; soup, boiled meat, roast meat, vegetables, bread,
butter, fish occasionally, one pint of wine, salad, dessert.
Third. Supper; one dish of meat, bread, butter, salad, and pint of wine.
Fourth. A bed-chamber for each one, with the use of the main room.
It was moreover agreed and covenanted, that for the extra sum of two
baiocchi each one, he would provide a cup of coffee and sugar after
dinner.
This is the Italian mode of proceeding; and when you have done thus, you
will rarely find any trouble, either in receiving what you have agreed
for, or in being overcharged. Justice to Gaetano Colajamo, keeper of the
locanda at Segni, demands that it should be here witnessed that he
faithfully and truly kept the agreement thus made; that after six months
spent with him by Caper, he found that Gaetano had acted fairly,
squarely, honestly, and manfully with him, from the day of his arrival
until he shook hands at parting. May his tribe increase!
Leaving the hotel, they found a café near the Maggiore Gate, and learned
that coffee was to be had there only on Sundays and festivals, the
demand for it on other days being so small that it would not pay to make
it. After coffee, Caper proposed a ramble up-town, and the trio sallied
out, succeeding by dint of perseverance, and digging their heels firmly
in the pavement, in climbing up the main street, which was about ten
feet wide and very steep, an angle of forty-five degrees about
describing its inclination, and as it was paved with limestone cubes
worn smooth by the iron shoes of clambering horses and donkeys, it was
difficult at times to prevent slipping. The irregularity of the front of
the houses, and their evident want of repairs, in fact, their general
tumble-down look, relieved here and there by a handsome middle-age
doorway or window on the first floor, while the second story would show
a confused modern wall of rubble-work and poverty-stricken style of
architecture generally; all these contrasts brought out the picturesque
element in force. As they passed a row of iron-grated windows a rough,
hairy hand was thrust nearly into Rocjean's face, with the request that
he would bestow a baioccho for charity on the owner.
'What are you doing in there?' asked Dexter.
'Nothing, nothing. Santa Maria! I am an innocent man. I never did any
thing; I never will do any thing so long as I live.'
'That's the reason they shut you up, perhaps. You are lazy, an't you?'
'Never. It's because I have been too active. So, Signor, give me a few
baiocchi, for I am tired of being shut up in this old bottle, and if
they will let me out I will marry her to-morrow.'
So Rocjean gave him a few baiocchi, asking Caper what he thought of this
plan of allowing jail-birds to sit and sing to every one who passed by,
permitting the inmates of the prison to converse with and entertain
their friends?
They had hardly passed the prison before three horses, sleekly curried,
and with ribbons tied to their manes and tails, were led past them. And
in answer to a question from Dexter, he learned that they were being led
down to the stretch of road at the foot of the town, the spur connecting
the conical mountain on which Segni is built, with the Volscian
mountains in its rear. This road was about a quarter of a mile in
length, quite level, and lined on both sides with fine old elm-trees,
giving goodly shade; it was used as a race-course; and the three horses
were going down to run a _Carriera_ or race. Four horses were to run
bare-backed, their riders being well used to dispense with saddles, and
managing to guide them with a rope halter in lieu of bridle. The purse
was four scudi, (four dollars.) Two horses were to run at a time, and
the race was then to be run off by the two winning horses.
Anxious to conform to the customs of the country, including Sabbath
quarter-races, our three artists retraced their steps, and descending
the main street, were soon outside the gate of the town. Selecting a
good position in the shade where they could see the race to advantage,
they quietly waited for the races to begin. At the firing of a gun, down
the course came two flying bay horses, ridden by boys, who urged them on
to top speed, accelerated by the shouts of the entire population; the
smallest horse won that heat. Again the gun was fired, and now the two
other horses, a dark bay and a black, came thundering along, the black
going ahead by four lengths, and receiving shouts of applause as _Il
Diavolo Benissimo_! Now came the real pull, for the two winners were to
try off; and as the last gun sounded, _Clatter, whizz!_ the small bay
and the black horse fairly flew by, neck and neck; unfortunately the
black bolted from the course before he reached the goal, and the last
seen of him he was somewhere on top of a hill with his legs white with
lime, which he had picked up darting through a mortar-bed where a house
was building; The bay horse, _Mortadella_, ridden by a boy named Bruno,
won this Sunday quarter-race; and though the horse was not timed, it is
safe to say the time was good, taking into account the fact that on
week-days he brought wood down the mountain on his back, and
consequently had that peculiar corkscrew motion incident to his
profession.
The race over, Caper proposed their once more ascending the main street
and making a bold endeavor to discover the top of the town, from which
he argued there must be a fine view. Sturdily mounting up, they found
themselves at last on the summit of the mountain, and passing several
houses, an academy and a church, found before them a pleasant walk
called the Pianillo, which was the crown of the conical mountain, and
from whence, looking over the valley below and around them, they saw far
off the Albanian mountains to their front and left, while away to their
right hand and fading into the clouds, the chain of the Abruzzi showed
them the confines of Naples. From this walk they saw the mountains and
towns of San Germano, Santo Padre di Regno, l'Arnara, Frosinone,
Torrice, Monte San Giovanni, Veroli, Ferentino, Morino, Agnani, Acuto,
Piglio, Serrone, Paliano, Roviate, Civitella, Olevano, San Vito,
Capranica, Gennazzano, Cave, Palestrina, Valmontone, Montefortino,
Lugnano, Zagarolo, Colonna, Rocca Priora, and the neighboring towns of
Sgurgola, Gorga, and Gavignano, with that lovely valley, La Villamagna.
Lost in admiration of the splendid panorama before them, our artists
were not at first aware that the Pianillo was fast filling up with the
people who had lately attended the horse-race; believing they were
attracted here by the lovely scenery, they only admired their good
taste, when Rocjean, overhearing two of the Segnians, discovered that
they came there to enjoy a very different spectacle--that of _La Giostra
del Porchetto_, or