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LUCIA RUDINI
Somewhere in Italy
by
MARTHA TRENT
Illustrated by Chas. L. Wrenn
[Illustration: Cover art--Lucia Rudini.]
[Frontispiece: "My pet, see how you frightened
the brave Austrian soldier"]
New York
Barse & Hopkins
Publishers
Copyright, 1918
by
Barse & Hopkins
DEDICATED TO
R. J. U.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I CELLINO
II MARIA
III BEFORE DAYBREAK
IV LOST
V IN THE TOOL SHED
VI GARIBALDI PERFORMS
VII THE BEGGAR
VIII THE SURPRISE ATTACK
IX THE BRIDGE
X GARIBALDI, STRETCHER-BEARER
XI THE AMERICAN
XII A REUNION
XIII AN INTERRUPTED DREAM
XIV THE FAIRY GODFATHER
XV EXCITING NEWS
XVI THE KING
XVII GOOD-BY TO CELLINO
XVIII IN THE GARDEN
XIX BACK TO FIGHT
XX AN INTERRUPTED SAIL
XXI THE END OF THE STORY
ILLUSTRATIONS
"'My pet, see how you frightened the brave
Austrian soldier'" . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
"The Soldiers came and chattered and laughed"
"Together they drove the goats before them"
"Lucia and Garibaldi toiled up the hill, each one
using every bit of their strength"
LUCIA RUDINI
CHAPTER I
CELLINO
Lucia Rudini folded her arms across her gaily-colored bodice, tilted
her dark head to one side and laughed.
"I see you, little lazy bones," she said. "Wake up!"
A small body curled into a ball in the grass at her feet moved
slightly, and a sleepy voice whimpered, "Oh, Lucia, go away. I was
having such a nice dream about our soldiers up there, and I was just
killing a whole regiment of Austrians, and now you come and spoil it."
A curly black head appeared above the tops of the flowers, and two
reproachful brown eyes stared up at her.
Lucia laughed again. "Poor Beppino, some one is always disturbing your
fine dreams, aren't they? But come now, I have something far better
than dreams for you," she coaxed.
"What?" Beppi was on his feet in an instant, and the sleepy look
completely disappeared.
"Ha, ha, now you are curious," Lucia teased, "aren't you? Well, you
shan't see what I have, until you promise to do what I ask."
Beppi's round eyes narrowed, and a cunning expression appeared in their
velvety depth.
"I suppose I am not to tell Nana that you left the house before sunrise
this morning," he said.
Lucia looked at him for a brief moment in startled surprise, then she
replied quickly, "No, that is not it at all. What harm would it do if
you told Nana? I am often up before sunrise."
"Yes, but you don't go to the mountains," Beppi interrupted. "Oh, I
saw you walking smack into the guns. What were you doing?" He dropped
his threatening tone, so incongruous with his tiny body, and coaxed
softly, "please tell me, sister mine."
"Silly head!" Lucia was breathing freely again, "there is nothing to
tell. I heard the guns all night, and they made me restless, so I went
for a walk. Go and tell Nana if you like, I don't care."
Beppi's small mind returned to the subject at hand.
"Then if it isn't that, what is it you want me to do?" he inquired, and
continued without giving his sister time to reply. "It's to take care
of them, I suppose," he grumbled, pointing a browned berry-stained
little finger at a herd of goats that were grazing contentedly a little
farther down the slope.
"Yes, that's it, and good care of them too," Lucia replied. "You are
not to go to sleep again, remember, and be sure and watch Garibaldi, or
she will stray away and get lost."
"And a good riddance too," Beppi commented under his breath.
He did not share in the general admiration for the "Illustrious and
Gentile Señora Garibaldi," the favorite goat of his sister's herd.
Perhaps the vivid recollection of Garibaldi's hard head may have
accounted for his aversion. Lucia heard his remark and was quick to
defend her pet.
"Aren't you ashamed to speak so?" she exclaimed, "I've a good mind not
to give you the candy after all."
"Oh, Lucia, please, please!" Beppi begged. "I will take such good care
of them, I promise, and if you like, I will pick the tenderest grass
for old crosspatch," he added grudgingly.
Lucia smiled in triumph, and from the pocket of her dress she pulled
out a small pink paper bag.
"Here you are then," she said; "and I won't be away very long. I am
just going to see Maria for a few minutes."
Beppi caught the bag as she tossed it, and lingered over the opening of
it. He wanted to prolong his pleasure as long as possible. Candy in
war times was a treat and one that the Rudinis seldom indulged in.
As if to echo his thoughts, Lucia called back over her shoulder as she
walked away, "Don't eat them fast, for they are the last you will get
for a long time."
Beppi did not bother to reply, but he acted on the advice, and selected
a big lemon drop that looked hard and everlasting, and set about
sucking it contentedly.
Lucia walked quickly over the grass to a small white-washed cottage a
little distance away. She approached it from the side and peeked
through one of the tiny windows. Old Nana Rudini, her grandmother, was
sitting in a low chair beside the table in the low-ceilinged room. Her
head nodded drowsily, and the white lace that she was making lay
neglected in her lap. Lucia smiled to herself in satisfaction and
stole gently away from the window.
The Rudinis lived about a mile beyond the north gate of Cellino, an old
Italian town built on the summit of a hill. Cellino was not
sufficiently important to appear in the guide books, but it boasted of
two possessions above its neighbors,--a beautiful old church opposite
the market place, and a broad stone wall that dated back to the days of
Roman supremacy. It was still in perfect preservation, and completely
surrounded the town giving it the appearance of a mediaeval fortress,
rather than a twentieth century village. Two roads led to it, one from
the south through the Porto Romano, and one from the north, up-hill and
from the valley below. It was up the latter that Lucia walked. She
was in a hurry and she swung along with a firm, graceful step, her
head, crowned by its heavy dark hair, held high and her shoulders
straight.
The soldier on guard at the gate watched her as she drew nearer. She
was a pleasing picture in her bright-colored gown against the glaring
sun on the dusty white road. Roderigo Vicello had only arrived that
morning in Cellino, and Lucia was not the familiar little figure to him
that she was to the other soldiers. But she was none the less welcome
for that, after the monotony of the day, and Roderigo as she came
nearer straightened up self-consciously and tilted his black patent
leather hat with its rakish cluster of cock feathers a little more to
one side.
"Good day, Señorina," he said smiling, as Lucia paused in the grateful
shadow of the wall to catch her breath.
"Good day to you," she replied good-naturedly.
"You're new, aren't you? I never saw you before. Where is Paolo?"
"Paolo and his regiment go up to the front this afternoon," Roderigo
replied. "We have just come to relieve them for a short time, then we
too will follow."
Lucia nodded. "You come from the south, don't you?" she inquired,
looking at him with frank admiration; "from near Napoli I should guess
by your speech."
Roderigo laughed. "You guess right, I do, and now it is my turn to ask
questions. Where do you come from?"
"Down there about a mile," Lucia pointed, "in the white cottage by the
road."
Roderigo looked at the dark hair and eyes and the gaudily colored dress
before him, and shook his head.
"Now perhaps," he admitted, "but you were born in the south where the
sun really shines and the sky is blue and not a dull gray, or else
where did you come by those eyes and those straight shoulders?"
Lucia looked up at the dazzling sky above her and laughed.
"And I suppose that spot is Napoli," she teased. "Well, you don't
guess as well as I do, for I was born here and I have lived here all my
life."
"'All my life,'" Roderigo mimicked. "How very long you make that
sound, Señorina, and yet you look no older than my little sister."
Lucia drew herself up to her full height and did not deign a direct
reply.
"Fourteen years is a long time, Señor," she said gravely, "when you
have many worries."
"But you are too young to have many worries," Roderigo protested; "or I
beg your pardon, perhaps you have some one up there?" he pointed to the
north, where the high peaks of the Alps were visible at no great
distance.
"No, not now," Lucia replied; "for my father was killed a year ago."
Roderigo was silent for a little, then he raised one shoulder in a
characteristic shrug.
"War," he said slowly. "We all have our turn."
Lucia nodded and returned almost at once to her gay mood.
"But you are still wondering how I got my black hair and eyes up here,"
she laughed.
"Well, I will tell you. My mother came from your beautiful Napoli, and
Nana, that is my grandmother, says I inherited my foolish love of gay
clothes from her. Nana does not like gay clothes, but my father always
liked me to wear them."
"Then your mother is dead too?" Roderigo asked respectfully.
"When I was a little girl, and when Beppino was a tiny baby. Beppi is
my little brother," Lucia explained.
Roderigo's eyes were shining with delight. There was something in
Lucia's soft tones that filled his homesick heart with joy. She was so
different from most of the girls from the north, with their strange
high voices and unfriendly manners. If she wasn't exactly from the
south she was near it. He wanted to sit down beside her and tell her
all about his home and his family, for he was very young and very
homesick, but Lucia decreed otherwise.
"Now do see what you have done," she scolded suddenly. "You have kept
me talking here until the sun is well down, and I will have to hurry if
I want to see Maria and return home before Nana misses me. So much for
gabbing on the high road with some one who should be watching for
suspicious spies instead of asking questions," she finished with a
provoking toss of her head.
Which sentence, considering that she had asked the first questions
herself, was unjust. Roderigo, however, did not seem to resent the
blame laid upon him. He did not even offer to contradict, but watched
Lucia until she disappeared around a corner a few streets beyond the
gate, and then he turned resolutely about and scanned the road with
searching determination, as if he really believed that the open,
smiling country about him might be concealing a spy.
When Lucia disappeared around the comer of the narrow street that led
to the market place, she stopped long enough to laugh softly to herself.
"The great silly! He took all the blame himself instead of boxing my
ears for being impertinent. A fine soldier he'll make! If I can scare
him, what will the guns do?" she said aloud, and then with a roguish
gleam of mischief in her eyes she hurried on.
The narrow side streets through which she passed were almost deserted,
but when she reached the market place it was thronged with people.
Every one was out to look at the new troops, and in the little square
the great white umbrellas over the market stalls were surrounded by
soldiers. Their picturesque uniforms added a gala note to the
commonplace little scene.
Lucia elbowed her way through the jostling, laughing men to a certain
umbrella, a little to one side of the open space left clear before the
church.