At Bagnara in a rich reliquary - the
authentic Hat of the Mother of God. A lady tourist would not have missed
this chance of studying the fashions of those days. [Footnote: See next
chapter.]
Finally, in desperation, I snatched up the wretched luggage and poured
my griefs with unwonted eloquence into the ears of a man driving a
bullock-cart down the road. So much was he moved, that he peremptorily
ordered his son to conduct me then and there to Sinopoli, to carry the
bag, and claim one franc by way of payment. The little man tumbled off
the cart, rather reluctantly.
"Away with you!" cried the stern parent, and we began the long march,
climbing uphill in the blazing sunshine; winding, later on, through
shady chestnut woods and across broad tracts of cultivated land. It was
plain that the task was beyond his powers, and when we had reached a
spot where the strange-looking new village of Sant' Eufemia was
visible - it is built entirely of wooden shelters; the stone town was
greatly shaken in the late earthquake - he was obliged to halt, and
thenceforward stumbled slowly into the place. There he deposited the bag
on the ground, and faced me squarely.
"No more of this!" he said, concentrating every ounce of his virility
into a look of uncompromising defiance.
"Then I shall not pay you a single farthing, my son. And, moreover, I
will tell your father. You know what he commanded: to Sinopoli. This is
only Sant' Eufemia. Unless - - "
"You will tell my father? Unless - - ?"
"Unless you discover some one who will carry the bag not only to
Sinopoli, but as far as Delianuova." I was not in the mood for repeating
the experiences of the morning.
"It is difficult. But we will try."
He went in search, and returned anon with a slender lad of unusual
comeliness - an earthquake orphan. "This big one," he explained, "walks
wherever you please and carries whatever you give him. And you will pay
him nothing at all, unless he deserves it. Such is the arrangement. Are
you content?"
"You have acted like a man."
The earthquake survivor set off at a swinging pace, and we soon reached
Sinopoli - new Sinopoli; the older settlement lies at a considerable
distance. Midday was past, and the long main street of the town - a
former fief of the terrible Ruffo family - stood deserted in the
trembling heat. None the less there was sufficient liveliness within the
houses; the whole place seemed in a state of jollification. It was
Sunday, the orphan explained; the country was duller than usual,
however, because of the high price of wine. There had been no murders to
speak of - no, not for a long time past. But the vintage of this year, he
added, promises well, and life will soon become normal again.
