A REUNION
She shaded her eyes and looked down the road.
Garibaldi, freed from her harness, was lying down in the sunshine, and
as Lucia watched her she saw a familiar figure running towards her.
She saw it stop and pat the goat. With a cry of joy she recognized
Maria, bedraggled and muddy, but without doubt Maria. She ran forward
to meet her.
"Maria, where have you come from?" she called as the older girl threw
herself into her out-stretched arms and began to cry.
"Oh, from miles and miles away! I have been running since late last
night," she sobbed.
"But what has happened? Beppi, Nana, are they safe?" Lucia demanded.
"Yes, yes, they are all safe with mother," Maria replied.
"Then why did you come back?" Lucia persisted.
"Oh, I could not bear it!" Maria tried to stifle her sobs. "All
yesterday, as we ran away from the guns, I kept thinking--back there,
there is work and I am running away. I knew that you were here, and I
thought you were killed. Nana was half crazy with fear and we could
get nothing out of her."
"But Beppi, he is safe, and aunt is taking care of him?" Lucia insisted.
"Oh, he is safe, of course, and so excited over his adventure, but he
was crying for you last night, and we had hard work to comfort him."
Maria paused, and Lucia looked into her eyes. There was a question
there and she knew that her cousin did not give voice to it. She put
her arm around her and led her back towards the convent.
"Come," she said, smiling with something of her old mischievousness.
"There is much to be done, and I will take you to Sister Francesca.
She will tell you where to begin."
Maria followed her.
Lucia went back to the ward and did not stop until she stood beside
Roderigo's bed. He was asleep, but his brows were drawn together in a
worried frown. Lucia put her finger on her lip and turned to her
cousin and pointed. Maria looked; a glad light came into her eyes, and
without a sound she fell on her knees beside the bed.
Lucia left her and went over to Sister Francesca. She was awfully
tired, and her arms were numb, but she did not dare stop for fear she
would not be able to begin again.
"What can I do?" she asked.
Sister Francesca pointed to two empty buckets. "Go out to the well and
fill those. We need more water badly," she said, without looking up.
Lucia picked up the pails and walked to the end of the room, through a
little side door and into a cloister. In the center of it was an old
well that she worked by turning an iron wheel.
Lucia drew the water and poured it into her pails, and started back
with them. It had been all her tired arm could do to lift the empty
ones, but now each step made sharp pains go up to her shoulders. She
staggered along with them, fighting hard against the dizziness in her
head, but when she was half-way down the ward everything began to swim
before her. She swayed, lost her balance, and would have fallen had
not a strong arm caught her. The pails fell to the floor, the water
splashing over the tops.
Through the singing in her ears she heard an angry voice.
"Poor youngster, whoever sent her out for water? Seems to me she's
earned a rest. Here, sister, help me, will you?"
Then Maria's soft voice came to her.
"Lucia dear, don't look like that!" she cried excitedly. "Here, senor,
put her on the bed, so."
She felt herself being lifted ever so gently, and then the soothing
comfort of a mattress and a pillow stole over her and she fell sound
asleep.
She did not wake up until late in the afternoon. The sun was setting
and the long ward was in deep shadow. She opened her eyes for a minute
and then closed them again. She was too blissfully comfortable to make
any effort.
She was conscious first of all of a strange quiet. The guns seemed to
have very nearly stopped, there was only a faint rumble in the
distance, and an occasional sputter from the guns near by.
The enemy had retreated beyond, far into the hills, and for the time
being Cellino was safe. Lucia guessed as much and smiled to herself.
People tiptoed about the room near her, and she could hear their voices
indistinctly. She did not try to hear what they said, she was too
tired to think. She snuggled closer in the soft pillows and sighed
contentedly, but before long a voice near her separated itself from the
rest, and she heard:
"We will go to my beautiful Napoli, you and I, and I will show you the
water, blue as the sky, and we will be very happy, and by and by you
will forget this terrible war, as a baby forgets a bad dream."
Lucia opened one eye and moved her head so that she could see the
speaker. He was Roderigo, of course, and he was holding Maria's hand
and talking very earnestly.
Lucia eavesdropped shamelessly. She was curious to hear what her
cousin would say.
"But surely you will not fight again!" Maria's voice was pleading.
"You are so sick, they will not send you back again."
"But I must go back, my wound is not a bad one and I will be well in no
time, and I must go back. Think how foolish it would be, if I was to
say, 'Oh, yes, I fought for two days in the great war.' You would be
ashamed of me, and that little cousin of yours, Lucia, she would think
me a fine soldier."
Lucia laughed aloud and the voices stopped.
Maria's cheeks flushed and she jumped up.
"Are you awake, dear?" she asked hurriedly, "then I will go and tell
Sister Francesca and the Doctor."
She hurried off. Lucia sat up and looked at Roderigo. She was a sorry
sight in her muddy clothes, and her hair fell about her shoulders.
"You are a fine soldier, Roderigo Vicello," she said impulsively, "and
I would say so if you had only fought for one day, for I know how brave
you are. But you are right to want to go back."
"Yes, I am right," Roderigo replied. He stretched out his hand and
Lucia slipped hers into it.
"We have been comrades, you and I," he said, "and we understand why."
Lucia nodded gravely. She felt suddenly very proud.
The Doctor came back a minute later with Maria.
"Well, are you rested enough to be moved?" he asked, smiling.
"Oh, yes I am quite all right," Lucia assured him.
"Well, I wouldn't brag too much," the Doctor laughed. "You'll find you
are pretty shaky. Sister Francesca has a little room fixed for you and
some clean clothes; how does that sound?"
Lucia smiled in reply, and the American came over at the Doctor's call.
"Think you can manage to carry the little lady, Lathrop?" he asked.
"Guess so."
Lucia felt the strong arms lift her, as if she weighed no more than a
feather. He carried her down the ward and up a flight of stairs.
Sister Francesca was waiting for them at the door of the little room.
It had been one of the sister's cells. With her help Lucia was soon in
a coarse white nightgown and tucked in between clean sheets.
The Doctor came in to see her a little later.
"How is my soldier of the pennies?" she asked, and then as she realized
he would not understand she added, "the one I brought up the hill."
"Oh, Captain Riccardi, he's still very ill, but he is going to pull
through all right."
Lucia smiled.
"Oh, I am glad," she said. "I was so afraid, he looked so queer."
"Well, don't worry any more," the Doctor replied, "and now what do you
want?"
Lucia sighed contentedly.
"Something to eat, if you please," she said shyly, "I am very hungry."