The Lost Girl Part 84

Pancrazio swinging the lantern, they threaded their way through the uneven boulders till they came to the river itself--not very wide, but rus.h.i.+ng fast. A long, slender, drooping plank crossed over.

Alvina crossed rather tremulous, followed by Pancrazio with the light, and Ciccio with the bread and the valise. They could hear the click of the a.s.s and the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of Giovanni.

Pancrazio went back over the stream with the light. Alvina saw the dim a.s.s come up, wander uneasily to the stream, plant his fore legs, and sniff the water, his nose right down.

"Er! Err!" cried Pancrazio, striking the beast on the flank.

But it only lifted its nose and turned aside. It would not take the stream. Pancrazio seized the leading rope angrily and turned upstream.

"Why were donkeys made! They are beasts without sense," his voice floated angrily across the chill darkness.

Ciccio laughed. He and Alvina stood in the wide, stony river-bed, in the strong starlight, watching the dim figures of the a.s.s and the men crawl upstream with the lantern.

Again the same performance, the white muzzle of the a.s.s stooping down to sniff the water suspiciously, his hind-quarters tilted up with the load. Again the angry yells and blows from Pancrazio. And the a.s.s seemed to be taking the water. But no! After a long deliberation he drew back. Angry language sounded through the crystal air. The group with the lantern moved again upstream, becoming smaller.

Alvina and Ciccio stood and watched. The lantern looked small up the distance. But there--a clocking, shouting, splas.h.i.+ng sound.

"He is going over," said Ciccio.

Pancrazio came hurrying back to the plank with the lantern.

"Oh the stupid beast! I could kill him!" cried he.

"Isn't he used to the water?" said Alvina.

"Yes, he is. But he won't go except where he thinks he will go. You might kill him before he should go."

They picked their way across the river bed, to the wild scrub and bushes of the farther side. There they waited for the a.s.s, which came up clicking over the boulders, led by the patient Giovanni. And then they took a difficult, rocky track ascending between banks.

Alvina felt the uneven scramble a great effort. But she got up.

Again they waited for the a.s.s. And then again they struck off to the right, under some trees.

A house appeared dimly.

"Is that it?" said Alvina.

"No. It belongs to me. But that is not my house. A few steps further. Now we are on my land."

They were treading a rough sort of gra.s.s-land--and still climbing.

It ended in a sudden little scramble between big stones, and suddenly they were on the threshold of a quite important-looking house: but it was all dark.

"Oh!" exclaimed Pancrazio, "they have done nothing that I told them." He made queer noises of exasperation.

"What?" said Alvina.

"Neither made a fire nor anything. Wait a minute--"

The a.s.s came up. Ciccio, Alvina, Giovanni and the a.s.s waited in the frosty starlight under the wild house. Pancrazio disappeared round the back. Ciccio talked to Giovanni. He seemed uneasy, as if he felt depressed.

Pancrazio returned with the lantern, and opened the big door. Alvina followed him into a stone-floored, wide pa.s.sage, where stood farm implements, where a little of straw and beans lay in a corner, and whence rose bare wooden stairs. So much she saw in the glimpse of lantern-light, as Pancrazio pulled the string and entered the kitchen: a dim-walled room with a vaulted roof and a great dark, open hearth, fireless: a bare room, with a little rough dark furniture: an unswept stone floor: iron-barred windows, rather small, in the deep-thickness of the wall, one-half shut with a drab shutter. It was rather like a room on the stage, gloomy, not meant to be lived in.

"I will make a light," said Pancrazio, taking a lamp from the mantel-piece, and proceeding to wind it up.

Ciccio stood behind Alvina, silent. He had put down the bread and valise on a wooden chest. She turned to him.

"It's a beautiful room," she said.

Which, with its high, vaulted roof, its dirty whitewash, its great black chimney, it really was. But Ciccio did not understand. He smiled gloomily.

The lamp was lighted. Alvina looked round in wonder.

"Now I will make a fire. You, Ciccio, will help Giovanni with the donkey," said Pancrazio, scuttling with the lantern.

Alvina looked at the room. There was a wooden settle in front of the hearth, stretching its back to the room. There was a little table under a square, recessed window, on whose sloping ledge were newspapers, scattered letters, nails and a hammer. On the table were dried beans and two maize cobs. In a corner were shelves, with two chipped enamel plates, and a small table underneath, on which stood a bucket of water with a dipper. Then there was a wooden chest, two little chairs, and a litter of f.a.ggots, cane, vine-twigs, bare maize-hubs, oak-twigs filling the corner by the hearth.

Pancrazio came scrambling in with fresh f.a.ggots.

"They have not done what I told them, the tiresome people!" he said.

"I told them to make a fire and prepare the house. You will be uncomfortable in my poor home. I have no woman, nothing, everything is wrong--"

He broke the pieces of cane and kindled them in the hearth. Soon there was a good blaze. Ciccio came in with the bags and the food.

"I had better go upstairs and take my things off," said Alvina. "I am so hungry."

"You had better keep your coat on," said Pancrazio. "The room is cold." Which it was, ice-cold. She shuddered a little. She took off her hat and fur.

"Shall we fry some meat?" said Pancrazio.

He took a frying-pan, found lard in the wooden chest--it was the food-chest--and proceeded to fry pieces of meat in a frying-pan over the fire. Alvina wanted to lay the table. But there was no cloth.

"We will sit here, as I do, to eat," said Pancrazio. He produced two enamel plates and one soup-plate, three penny iron forks and two old knives, and a little grey, coa.r.s.e salt in a wooden bowl. These he placed on the seat of the settle in front of the fire. Ciccio was silent.

The settle was dark and greasy. Alvina feared for her clothes. But she sat with her enamel plate and her impossible fork, a piece of meat and a chunk of bread, and ate. It was difficult--but the food was good, and the fire blazed. Only there was a film of wood-smoke in the room, rather smarting. Ciccio sat on the settle beside her, and ate in large mouthfuls.

"I think it's fun," said Alvina.

He looked at her with dark, haunted, gloomy eyes. She wondered what was the matter with him.

"Don't you think it's fun?" she said, smiling.

He smiled slowly.

"You won't like it," he said.

"Why not?" she cried, in panic lest he prophesied truly.

Pancrazio scuttled in and out with the lantern. He brought wrinkled pears, and green, round grapes, and walnuts, on a white cloth, and presented them.

"I think my pears are still good," he said. "You must eat them, and excuse my uncomfortable house."