CHAPTER XIV
THE JOURNEY ACROSS
The train began to move. Giuseppe ran alongside, holding Ciccio'shand still; the women and children were crying and waving theirhandkerchiefs, the other men were shouting messages, making strange,eager gestures. And Alvina sat quite still, wonderingly. And so thebig, heavy train drew out, leaving the others small and dim on theplatform. It was foggy, the river was a sea of yellow beneath theponderous iron bridge. The morning was dim and dank.
The train was very full. Next to Alvina sat a trim Frenchwomanreading _L'Aiglon_. There was a terrible encumbrance of packages andluggage everywhere. Opposite her sat Ciccio, his black overcoat openover his pale-grey suit, his black hat a little over his left eye.He glanced at her from time to time, smiling constrainedly. Sheremained very still. They ran through Bromley and out into the opencountry. It was grey, with shivers of grey sunshine. On the downsthere was thin snow. The air in the train was hot, heavy with thecrowd and tense with excitement and uneasiness. The train seemed torush ponderously, massively, across the Weald.
And so, through Folkestone to the sea. There was sun in the sky now,and white clouds, in the sort of hollow sky-dome above the greyearth with its horizon walls of fog. The air was still. The seaheaved with a sucking noise inside the dock. Alvina and Ciccio sataft on the second-class deck, their bags near them. He put a whitemuffler round himself, Alvina hugged herself in her beaver scarf andmuff. She looked tender and beautiful in her still vagueness, andCiccio, hovering about her, was beautiful too, his estrangement gavehim a certain wistful nobility which for the moment put him beyondall class inferiority. The passengers glanced at them across themagic of estrangement.
The sea was very still. The sun was fairly high in the open sky,where white cloud-tops showed against the pale, wintry blue. Acrossthe sea came a silver sun-track. And Alvina and Ciccio looked at thesun, which stood a little to the right of the ship's course.
"The sun!" said Ciccio, nodding towards the orb and smiling to her.
"I love it," she said.
He smiled again, silently. He was strangely moved: she did not knowwhy.
The wind was cold over the wintry sea, though the sun's beams werewarm. They rose, walked round the cabins. Other ships were atsea--destroyers and battleships, grey, low, and sinister on thewater. Then a tall bright schooner glimmered far down the channel.Some brown fishing smacks kept together. All was very still in thewintry sunshine of the Channel.
So they turned to walk to the stern of the boat. And Alvina's heartsuddenly contracted. She caught Ciccio's arm, as the boat rolledgently. For there behind, behind all the sunshine, was England.England, beyond the water, rising with ash-grey, corpse-grey cliffs,and streaks of snow on the downs above. England, like a long,ash-grey coffin slowly submerging. She watched it, fascinated andterrified. It seemed to repudiate the sunshine, to remainunilluminated, long and ash-grey and dead, with streaks of snow likecerements. That was England! Her thoughts flew to Woodhouse, thegrey centre of it all. Home!
Her heart died within her. Never had she felt so utterly strange andfar-off. Ciccio at her side was as nothing, as spell-bound shewatched, away off, behind all the sunshine and the sea, the grey,snow-streaked substance of England slowly receding and sinking,submerging. She felt she could not believe it. It was like lookingat something else. What? It was like a long, ash-grey coffin,winter, slowly submerging in the sea. England?
She turned again to the sun. But clouds and veils were alreadyweaving in the sky. The cold was beginning to soak in, moreover. Shesat very still for a long time, almost an eternity. And when shelooked round again there was only a bank of mist behind, beyond thesea: a bank of mist, and a few grey, stalking ships. She must watchfor the coast of France.
And there it was already, looming up grey and amorphous, patchedwith snow. It had a grey, heaped, sordid look in the November light.She had imagined Boulogne gay and brilliant. Whereas it was moregrey and dismal than England. But not that magical, mystic, phantomlook.
The ship slowly put about, and backed into the harbour. She watchedthe quay approach. Ciccio was gathering up the luggage. Then camethe first cry one ever hears: "_Porteur! Porteur!_ Want a_porteur_?" A porter in a blouse strung the luggage on his strap,and Ciccio and Alvina entered the crush for the exit and thepassport inspection. There was a tense, eager, frightened crowd, andofficials shouting directions in French and English. Alvina foundherself at last before a table where bearded men in uniforms weresplashing open the big pink sheets of the English passports: shefelt strange and uneasy, that her passport was unimpressive andItalian. The official scrutinized her, and asked questions ofCiccio. Nobody asked her anything--she might have been Ciccio'sshadow. So they went through to the vast, crowded cavern of aCustoms house, where they found their porter waving to them in themob. Ciccio fought in the mob while the porter whisked off Alvina toget seats in the big train. And at last she was planted once more ina seat, with Ciccio's place reserved beside her. And there she sat,looking across the railway lines at the harbour, in the last burstof grey sunshine. Men looked at her, officials stared at her,soldiers made remarks about her. And at last, after an eternity,Ciccio came along the platform, the porter trotting behind.
They sat and ate the food they had brought, and drank wine and tea.And after weary hours the train set off through snow-patched countryto Paris. Everywhere was crowded, the train was stuffy without beingwarm. Next to Alvina sat a large, fat, youngish Frenchman whooverflowed over her in a hot fashion. Darkness began to fall. Thetrain was very late. There were strange and frightening delays.Strange lights appeared in the sky, everybody seemed to be listeningfor strange noises. It was all such a whirl and confusion thatAlvina lost count, relapsed into a sort of stupidity. Gleams,flashes, noises and then at last the frenzy of Paris.
It was night, a black city, and snow falling, and no train thatnight across to the Gare de Lyon. In a state of semi-stupefactionafter all the questionings and examinings and blusterings, theywere finally allowed to go straight across Paris. But this meantanother wild tussle with a Paris taxi-driver, in the filtering snow.So they were deposited in the Gare de Lyon.
And the first person who rushed upon them was Geoffrey, in a rathergrimy private's uniform. He had already seen some hard service, andhad a wild, bewildered look. He kissed Ciccio and burst into tearson his shoulder, there in the great turmoil of the entrance hall ofthe Gare de Lyon. People looked, but nobody seemed surprised.Geoffrey sobbed, and the tears came silently down Ciccio's cheeks.
"I've waited for you since five o'clock, and I've got to go backnow. Ciccio! Ciccio! I wanted so badly to see you. I shall never seethee again, brother, my brother!" cried Gigi, and a sob shook him.
"Gigi! Mon Gigi. Tu as done regu ma lettre?"
"Yesterday. O Ciccio, Ciccio, I shall die without thee!"
"But no, Gigi, frere. You won't die."
"Yes, Ciccio, I shall. I know I shall."
"I say _no_, brother," said Ciccio. But a spasm suddenly took him,he pulled off his hat and put it over his face and sobbed into it.
"Adieu, ami! Adieu!" cried Gigi, clutching the other man's arm.Ciccio took his hat from his tear-stained face and put it on hishead. Then the two men embraced.
"_Toujours a toi!_" said Geoffrey, with a strange, solemn salute infront of Ciccio and Alvina. Then he turned on his heel and marchedrapidly out of the station, his soiled soldier's overcoat flappingin the wind at the door. Ciccio watched him go. Then he turned andlooked with haunted eyes into the eyes of Alvina. And then theyhurried down the desolate platform in the darkness. Many people,Italians, largely, were camped waiting there, while bits of snowwavered down. Ciccio bought food and hired cushions. The trainbacked in. There was a horrible fight for seats, men scramblingthrough windows. Alvina got a place--but Ciccio had to stay in thecorridor.
Then the long night journey through France, slow and blind. Thetrain was now so hot that the iron plate on the floor burnt Alvina'sfeet. Outside she saw glimpses of snow. A fat Ital
ian hotel-keeperput on a smoking cap, covered the light, and spread himself beforeAlvina. In the next carriage a child was screaming. It screamed allthe night--all the way from Paris to Chambery it screamed. The traincame to sudden halts, and stood still in the snow. The hotel-keepersnored. Alvina became almost comatose, in the burning heat of thecarriage. And again the train rumbled on. And again she saw glimpsesof stations, glimpses of snow, through the chinks in the curtainedwindows. And again there was a jerk and a sudden halt, a drowsymutter from the sleepers, somebody uncovering the light, andsomebody covering it again, somebody looking out, somebody trampingdown the corridor, the child screaming.
The child belonged to two poor Italians--Milanese--a shred of a thinlittle man, and a rather loose woman. They had five tiny children,all boys: and the four who could stand on their feet all worescarlet caps. The fifth was a baby. Alvina had seen a Frenchofficial yelling at the poor shred of a young father on theplatform.
When morning came, and the bleary people pulled the curtains, it wasa clear dawn, and they were in the south of France. There was nosign of snow. The landscape was half southern, half Alpine. Whitehouses with brownish tiles stood among almond trees and cactus. Itwas beautiful, and Alvina felt she had known it all before, in ahappier life. The morning was graceful almost as spring. She wentout in the corridor to talk to Ciccio.
He was on his feet with his back to the inner window, rollingslightly to the motion of the train. His face was pale, he had thatsombre, haunted, unhappy look. Alvina, thrilled by the southerncountry, was smiling excitedly.
"This is my first morning abroad," she said.
"Yes," he answered.
"I love it here," she said. "Isn't this like Italy?"
He looked darkly out of the window, and shook his head.
But the sombre look remained on his face. She watched him. And herheart sank as she had never known it sink before.
"Are you thinking of Gigi?" she said.
He looked at her, with a faint, unhappy, bitter smile, but he saidnothing. He seemed far off from her. A wild unhappiness beat insideher breast. She went down the corridor, away from him, to avoid thisnew agony, which after all was not her agony. She listened to thechatter of French and Italian in the corridor. She felt theexcitement and terror of France, inside the railway carriage: andoutside she saw white oxen slowly ploughing, beneath the lingeringyellow poplars of the sub-Alps, she saw peasants looking up, she sawa woman holding a baby to her breast, watching the train, she sawthe excited, yeasty crowds at the station. And they passed a river,and a great lake. And it all seemed bigger, nobler than England. Shefelt vaster influences spreading around, the Past was greater, moremagnificent in these regions. For the first time the nostalgia ofthe vast Roman and classic world took possession of her. And shefound it splendid. For the first time she opened her eyes on acontinent, the Alpine core of a continent. And for the first timeshe realized what it was to escape from the smallish perfection ofEngland, into the grander imperfection of a great continent.
Near Chambery they went down for breakfast to the restaurant car.And secretly, she was very happy. Ciccio's distress made her uneasy.But underneath she was extraordinarily relieved and glad. Ciccio didnot trouble her very much. The sense of the bigness of the landsabout her, the excitement of travelling with Continental people, thepleasantness of her coffee and rolls and honey, the feeling thatvast events were taking place--all this stimulated her. She hadbrushed, as it were, the fringe of the terror of the war and theinvasion. Fear was seething around her. And yet she was excited andglad. The vast world was in one of its convulsions, and she wasmoving amongst it. Somewhere, she believed in the convulsion, theevent elated her.
The train began to climb up to Modane. How wonderful the Alpswere!--what a bigness, an unbreakable power was in the mountains! Upand up the train crept, and she looked at the rocky slopes, theglistening peaks of snow in the blue heaven, the hollow valleys withfir trees and low-roofed houses. There were quarries near therailway, and men working. There was a strange mountain town,dirty-looking. And still the train climbed up and up, in the hotmorning sunshine, creeping slowly round the mountain loops, so thata little brown dog from one of the cottages ran alongside the trainfor a long way, barking at Alvina, even running ahead of thecreeping, snorting train, and barking at the people ahead. Alvina,looking out, saw the two unfamiliar engines snorting out theirsmoke round the bend ahead. And the morning wore away to mid-day.
Ciccio became excited as they neared Modane, the frontier station.His eye lit up again, he pulled himself together for the entranceinto Italy. Slowly the train rolled in to the dismal station. Andthen a confusion indescribable, of porters and masses of luggage,the unspeakable crush and crowd at the customs barriers, the moreintense crowd through the passport office, all like a madness.
They were out on the platform again, they had secured their places.Ciccio wanted to have luncheon in the station restaurant. They wentthrough the passages. And there in the dirty station gang-ways andbig corridors dozens of Italians were lying on the ground, men,women, children, camping with their bundles and packages in heaps.They were either emigrants or refugees. Alvina had never seen peopleherd about like cattle, dumb, brute cattle. It impressed her. Shecould not grasp that an Italian labourer would lie down just wherehe was tired, in the street, on a station, in any corner, like adog.
In the afternoon they were slipping down the Alps towards Turin. Andeverywhere was snow--deep, white, wonderful snow, beautiful andfresh, glistening in the afternoon light all down the mountainslopes, on the railway track, almost seeming to touch the train. Andtwilight was falling. And at the stations people crowded in oncemore.
It had been dark a long time when they reached Turin. Many peoplealighted from the train, many surged to get in. But Ciccio andAlvina had seats side by side. They were becoming tired now. Butthey were in Italy. Once more they went down for a meal. And thenthe train set off again in the night for Alessandria and Genoa, Pisaand Rome.
It was night, the train ran better, there was a more easy sense inItaly. Ciccio talked a little with other travelling companions. AndAlvina settled her cushion, and slept more or less till Genoa. Afterthe long wait at Genoa she dozed off again. She woke to see the seain the moonlight beneath her--a lovely silvery sea, coming right tothe carriage. The train seemed to be tripping on the edge of theMediterranean, round bays, and between dark rocks and under castles,a night-time fairy-land, for hours. She watched spell-bound:spell-bound by the magic of the world itself. And she thought toherself: "Whatever life may be, and whatever horror men have madeof it, the world is a lovely place, a magic place, something tomarvel over. The world is an amazing place."
This thought dozed her off again. Yet she had a consciousness oftunnels and hills and of broad marshes pallid under a moon and acoming dawn. And in the dawn there was Pisa. She watched the wordhanging in the station in the dimness: "Pisa." Ciccio told herpeople were changing for Florence. It all seemed wonderful toher--wonderful. She sat and watched the black station--then sheheard the sound of the child's trumpet. And it did not occur to herto connect the train's moving on with the sound of the trumpet.
But she saw the golden dawn, a golden sun coming out of levelcountry. She loved it. She loved being in Italy. She loved thelounging carelessness of the train, she liked having Italian money,hearing the Italians round her--though they were neither asbeautiful nor as melodious as she expected. She loved watching theglowing antique landscape. She read and read again: "E pericolososporgersi," and "E vietato fumare," and the other little magicalnotices on the carriages. Ciccio told her what they meant, and howto say them. And sympathetic Italians opposite at once asked him ifthey were married and who and what his bride was, and they gazed ather with bright, approving eyes, though she felt terribly bedraggledand travel-worn.
"You come from England? Yes! Nice contry!" said a man in a corner,leaning forward to make this display of his linguistic capacity.
"Not so nice as this," said Alvina.
 
; "Eh?"
Alvina repeated herself.
"Not so nice? Oh? No! Fog, eh!" The fat man whisked his fingers inthe air, to indicate fog in the atmosphere. "But nice contry!Very--_convenient_."
He sat up in triumph, having achieved this word. And theconversation once more became a spatter of Italian. The women werevery interested. They looked at Alvina, at every atom of her. Andshe divined that they were wondering if she was already with child.Sure enough, they were asking Ciccio in Italian if she was "makinghim a baby." But he shook his head and did not know, just a bitconstrained. So they ate slices of sausages and bread and friedrice-balls, with wonderfully greasy fingers, and they drank redwine in big throatfuls out of bottles, and they offered their fareto Ciccio and Alvina, and were charmed when she said to Ciccio she_would_ have some bread and sausage. He picked the strips off thesausage for her with his fingers, and made her a sandwich with aroll. The women watched her bite it, and bright-eyed and pleasedthey said, nodding their heads--
"Buono? Buono?"
And she, who knew this word, understood, and replied:
"Yes, good! Buono!" nodding her head likewise. Which caused immensesatisfaction. The women showed the whole paper of sausage slices,and nodded and beamed and said:
"Se vuole ancora--!"
And Alvina bit her wide sandwich, and smiled, and said:
"Yes, awfully nice!"
And the women looked at each other and said something, and Cicciointerposed, shaking his head. But one woman ostentatiously wiped abottle mouth with a clean handkerchief, and offered the bottle toAlvina, saying:
"Vino buono. Vecchio! Vecchio!" nodding violently and indicatingthat she should drink. She looked at Ciccio, and he looked back ather, doubtingly.
"Shall I drink some?" she said.
"If you like," he replied, making an Italian gesture ofindifference.
So she drank some of the wine, and it dribbled on to her chin. Shewas not good at managing a bottle. But she liked the feeling ofwarmth it gave her. She was very tired.
"Si piace? Piace?"
"Do you like it," interpreted Ciccio.
"Yes, very much. What is very much?" she asked of Ciccio.
"Molto."
"Si, molto. Of course, I knew molto, from, music," she added.
The women made noises, and smiled and nodded, and so the trainpulsed on till they came to Rome. There was again, the wild scramblewith luggage, a general leave taking, and then the masses of peopleon the station at Rome. _Roma! Roma!_ What was it to Alvina but aname, and a crowded, excited station, and Ciccio running after theluggage, and the pair of them eating in a station restaurant?
Almost immediately after eating, they were in the train once more,with new fellow travellers, running south this time towards Naples.In a daze of increasing weariness Alvina watched the dreary, to hersordid-seeming Campagna that skirts the railway, the broken aqueducttrailing in the near distance over the stricken plain. She saw atram-car, far out from everywhere, running up to cross the railway.She saw it was going to Frascati.
And slowly the hills approached--they passed the vines of thefoothills, the reeds, and were among the mountains. Wonderful littletowns perched fortified on rocks and peaks, mountains rose straightup off the level plain, like old topographical prints, riverswandered in the wild, rocky places, it all seemed ancient andshaggy, savage still, under all its remote civilization, this regionof the Alban Mountains south of Rome. So the train clambered up anddown, and went round corners.
They had not far to go now. Alvina was almost too tired to care whatit would be like. They were going to Ciccio's native village. Theywere to stay in the house of his uncle, his mother's brother. Thisuncle had been a model in London. He had built a house on the landleft by Ciccio's grandfather. He lived alone now, for his wife wasdead and his children were abroad. Giuseppe was his son: Giuseppe ofBattersea, in whose house Alvina had stayed.
This much Alvina knew. She knew that a portion of the land down atPescocalascio belonged to Ciccio: a bit of half-savage, ancientearth that had been left to his mother by old Francesco Califano,her hard-grinding peasant father. This land remained integral in theproperty, and was worked by Ciccio's two uncles, Pancrazio andGiovanni. Pancrazio was the well-to-do uncle, who had been a modeland had built a "villa." Giovanni was not much good. That was howCiccio put it.
They expected Pancrazio to meet them at the station. Cicciocollected his bundles and put his hat straight and peered out of thewindow into the steep mountains of the afternoon. There was a townin the opening between steep hills, a town on a flat plain that raninto the mountains like a gulf. The train drew up. They had arrived.
Alvina was so tired she could hardly climb down to the platform. Itwas about four o'clock. Ciccio looked up and down for Pancrazio, butcould not see him. So he put his luggage into a pile on theplatform, told Alvina to stand by it, whilst he went off for theregistered boxes. A porter came and asked her questions, of whichshe understood nothing. Then at last came Ciccio, shouldering onesmall trunk, whilst a porter followed, shouldering another. Out theytrotted, leaving Alvina abandoned with the pile of hand luggage. Shewaited. The train drew out. Ciccio and the porter came bustlingback. They took her out through the little gate, to where, in theflat desert space behind the railway, stood two great drabmotor-omnibuses, and a rank of open carriages. Ciccio was handing upthe handbags to the roof of one of the big post-omnibuses. When itwas finished the man on the roof came down, and Ciccio gave him andthe station porter each sixpence. The station-porter immediatelythrew his coin on the ground with a gesture of indignant contempt,spread his arms wide and expostulated violently. Ciccio expostulatedback again, and they pecked at each other, verbally, like two birds.It ended by the rolling up of the burly, black moustached driver ofthe omnibus. Whereupon Ciccio quite amicably gave the porter twonickel twopences in addition to the sixpence, whereupon the porterquite lovingly wished him "buon' viaggio."
So Alvina was stowed into the body of the omnibus, with Ciccio ather side. They were no sooner seated than a voice was heard, inbeautifully-modulated English:
"You are here! Why how have I missed you?"
It was Pancrazio, a smallish, rather battered-looking, shabbyItalian of sixty or more, with a big moustache and reddish-rimmedeyes and a deeply-lined face. He was presented to Alvina.
"How have I missed you?" he said. "I was on the station when thetrain came, and I did not see you."
But it was evident he had taken wine. He had no further opportunityto talk. The compartment was full of large, mountain-peasants withblack hats and big cloaks and overcoats. They found Pancrazio a seatat the far end, and there he sat, with his deeply-lined, impassiveface and slightly glazed eyes. He had yellow-brown eyes like Ciccio.But in the uncle the eyelids dropped in a curious, heavy way, theeyes looked dull like those of some old, rakish tom-cat, they wereslightly rimmed with red. A curious person! And his English, thoughslow, was beautifully pronounced. He glanced at Alvina with slow,impersonal glances, not at all a stare. And he sat for the most partimpassive and abstract as a Red Indian.
At the last moment a large black priest was crammed in, and the doorshut behind him. Every available seat was let down and occupied. Thesecond great post-omnibus rolled away, and then the one for Molafollowed, rolling Alvina and Ciccio over the next stage of theirjourney.
The sun was already slanting to the mountain tops, shadows werefalling on the gulf of the plain. The omnibus charged at a greatspeed along a straight white road, which cut through the cultivatedlevel straight towards the core of the mountain. By the road-side,peasant men in cloaks, peasant women in full-gathered dresses withwhite bodices or blouses having great full sleeves, tramped in theridge of grass, driving cows or goats, or leading heavily-ladenasses. The women had coloured kerchiefs on their heads, like thewomen Alvina remembered at the Sunday-School treats, who used totell fortunes with green little love-birds. And they all trampedalong towards the blue shadow of the closing-in mountains, leavingthe peaks of the town behind on t
he left.
At a branch-road the 'bus suddenly stopped, and there it sat calmlyin the road beside an icy brook, in the falling twilight. Greatmoth-white oxen waved past, drawing a long, low load of wood; thepeasants left behind began to come up again, in picturesque groups.The icy brook tinkled, goats, pigs and cows wandered and shook theirbells along the grassy borders of the road and the flat, unbrokenfields, being driven slowly home. Peasants jumped out of the omnibuson to the road, to chat--and a sharp air came in. High overhead, asthe sun went down, was the curious icy radiance of snow mountains,and a pinkness, while shadow deepened in the valley.
At last, after about half an hour, the youth who was conductor ofthe omnibus came running down the wild side-road, everybodyclambered in, and away the vehicle charged, into the neck of theplain. With a growl and a rush it swooped up the first loop of theascent. Great precipices rose on the right, the ruddiness of sunsetabove them. The road wound and swirled, trying to get up the pass.The omnibus pegged slowly up, then charged round a corner, swirledinto another loop, and pegged heavily once more. It seemed darkbetween the closing-in mountains. The rocks rose very high, theroad looped and swerved from one side of the wide defile to theother, the vehicle pulsed and persisted. Sometimes there was ahouse, sometimes a wood of oak-trees, sometimes the glimpse of aravine, then the tall white glisten of snow above the earthlyblackness. And still they went on and on, up the darkness.
Peering ahead, Alvina thought she saw the hollow between the peaks,which was the top of the pass. And every time the omnibus took a newturn, she thought it was coming out on the top of this hollowbetween the heights. But no--the road coiled right away again.
A wild little village came in sight. This was the destination. Againno. Only the tall, handsome mountain youth who had sat across fromher, descended grumbling because the 'bus had brought him past hisroad, the driver having refused to pull up. Everybody expostulatedwith him, and he dropped into the shadow. The big priest squeezedinto his place. The 'bus wound on and on, and always towards thathollow sky-line between the high peaks.
At last they ran up between buildings nipped between highrock-faces, and out into a little market-place, the crown of thepass. The luggage was got out and lifted down. Alvina descended.There she was, in a wild centre of an old, unfinished littlemountain town. The facade of a church rose from a small eminence. Awhite road ran to the right, where a great open valley showedfaintly beyond and beneath. Low, squalid sort of buildings stoodaround--with some high buildings. And there were bare little trees.The stars were in the sky, the air was icy. People stood darkly,excitedly about, women with an odd, shell-pattern head-dress ofgofered linen, something like a parlour-maid's cap, came and staredhard. They were hard-faced mountain women.
Pancrazio was talking to Ciccio in dialect.
"I couldn't get a cart to come down," he said in English. "But Ishall find one here. Now what will you do? Put the luggage inGrazia's place while you wait?--"
They went across the open place to a sort of shop called the PostRestaurant. It was a little hole with an earthen floor and a smellof cats. Three crones were sitting over a low brass brazier, inwhich charcoal and ashes smouldered. Men were drinking. Ciccioordered coffee with rum--and the hard-faced Grazia, in her unfreshhead-dress, dabbled the little dirty coffee-cups in dirty water,took the coffee-pot out of the ashes, poured in the old blackboiling coffee three parts full, and slopped the cup over with rum.Then she dashed in a spoonful of sugar, to add to the pool in thesaucer, and her customers were served.
However, Ciccio drank up, so Alvina did likewise, burning her lipssmartly. Ciccio paid and ducked his way out.
"Now what will you buy?" asked Pancrazio.
"Buy?" said Ciccio.
"Food," said Pancrazio. "Have you brought food?"
"No," said Ciccio.
So they trailed up stony dark ways to a butcher, and got a big redslice of meat; to a baker, and got enormous flat loaves. Sugar andcoffee they bought. And Pancrazio lamented in his elegant Englishthat no butter was to be obtained. Everywhere the hard-faced womencame and stared into Alvina's face, asking questions. And bothCiccio and Pancrazio answered rather coldly, with some _hauteur_.There was evidently not too much intimacy between the people ofPescocalascio and these semi-townfolk of Ossona. Alvina felt as ifshe were in a strange, hostile country, in the darkness of thesavage little mountain town.
At last they were ready. They mounted into a two-wheeled cart,Alvina and Ciccio behind, Pancrazio and the driver in front, theluggage promiscuous. The bigger things were left for the morrow. Itwas icy cold, with a flashing darkness. The moon would not rise tilllater.
And so, without any light but that of the stars, the cart wentspanking and rattling downhill, down the pale road which wound downthe head of the valley to the gulf of darkness below. Down in thedarkness into the darkness they rattled, wildly, and without heed,the young driver making strange noises to his dim horse, cracking awhip and asking endless questions of Pancrazio.
Alvina sat close to Ciccio. He remained almost impassive. The windwas cold, the stars flashed. And they rattled down the rough, broadroad under the rocks, down and down in the darkness. Ciccio satcrouching forwards, staring ahead. Alvina was aware of mountains,rocks, and stars.
"I didn't know it was so _wild_!" she said.
"It is not much," he said. There was a sad, plangent note in hisvoice. He put his hand upon her.
"You don't like it?" he said.
"I think it's lovely--wonderful," she said, dazed.
He held her passionately. But she did not feel she neededprotecting. It was all wonderful and amazing to her. She could notunderstand why he seemed upset and in a sort of despair. To herthere was magnificence in the lustrous stars and the steepnesses,magic, rather terrible and grand.
They came down to the level valley bed, and went rolling along.There was a house, and a lurid red fire burning outside against thewall, and dark figures about it.
"What is that?" she said. "What are they doing?"
"I don't know," said Ciccio. "Cosa fanno li--eh?"
"Ka--? Fanno il buga'--" said the driver.
"They are doing some washing," said Pancrazio, explanatory.
"Washing!" said Alvina.
"Boiling the clothes," said Ciccio.
On the cart rattled and bumped, in the cold night, down the high-wayin the valley. Alvina could make out the darkness of the slopes.Overhead she saw the brilliance of Orion. She felt she was quite,quite lost. She had gone out of the world, over the border, intosome place of mystery. She was lost to Woodhouse, to Lancaster, toEngland--all lost.
They passed through a darkness of woods, with a swift sound of coldwater. And then suddenly the cart pulled up. Some one came out of alighted doorway in the darkness.
"We must get down here--the cart doesn't go any further," saidPancrazio.
"Are we there?" said Alvina.
"No, it is about a mile. But we must leave the cart."
Ciccio asked questions in Italian. Alvina climbed down.
"Good-evening! Are you cold?" came a loud, raucous, American-Italianfemale voice. It was another relation of Ciccio's. Alvina stared andlooked at the handsome, sinister, raucous-voiced young woman whostood in the light of the doorway.
"Rather cold," she said.
"Come in, and warm yourself," said the young woman.
"My sister's husband lives here," explained Pancrazio.
Alvina went through the doorway into the room. It was a sort ofinn. On the earthen floor glowed a great round pan of charcoal,which looked like a flat pool of fire. Men in hats and cloaks sat ata table playing cards by the light of a small lamp, a man waspouring wine. The room seemed like a cave.
"Warm yourself," said the young woman, pointing to the flat disc offire on the floor. She put a chair up to it, and Alvina sat down.The men in the room stared, but went on noisily with their cards.Ciccio came in with luggage. Men got up and greeted him effusively,watching Alvina between whiles as if she were some alien cre
ature.Words of American sounded among the Italian dialect.
There seemed to be a confab of some sort, aside. Ciccio came andsaid to her:
"They want to know if we will stay the night here."
"I would rather go on home," she said.
He averted his face at the word home.
"You see," said Pancrazio, "I think you might be more comfortablehere, than in my poor house. You see I have no woman to care forit--"
Alvina glanced round the cave of a room, at the rough fellows intheir black hats. She was thinking how she would be "morecomfortable" here.
"I would rather go on," she said.
"Then we will get the donkey," said Pancrazio stoically. And Alvinafollowed him out on to the high-road.
From a shed issued a smallish, brigand-looking fellow carrying alantern. He had his cloak over his nose and his hat over his eyes.His legs were bundled with white rag, crossed and crossed with hidestraps, and he was shod in silent skin sandals.
"This is my brother Giovanni," said Pancrazio. "He is not quitesensible." Then he broke into a loud flood of dialect.
Giovanni touched his hat to Alvina, and gave the lantern toPancrazio. Then he disappeared, returning in a few moments with theass. Ciccio came out with the baggage, and by the light of thelantern the things were slung on either side of the ass, in a ratherprecarious heap. Pancrazio tested the rope again.
"There! Go on, and I shall come in a minute."
"Ay-er-er!" cried Giovanni at the ass, striking the flank of thebeast. Then he took the leading rope and led up on the dark high-way,stalking with his dingy white legs under his muffled cloak, leadingthe ass. Alvina noticed the shuffle of his skin-sandalled feet, thequiet step of the ass.
She walked with Ciccio near the side of the road. He carried thelantern. The ass with its load plodded a few steps ahead. There weretrees on the road-side, and a small channel of invisible but noisywater. Big rocks jutted sometimes. It was freezing, the mountainhigh-road was congealed. High stars flashed overhead.
"How strange it is!" said Alvina to Ciccio. "Are you glad you havecome home?"
"It isn't my home," he replied, as if the word fretted him. "Yes, Ilike to see it again. But it isn't the place for young people tolive in. You will see how you like it."
She wondered at his uneasiness. It was the same in Pancrazio. Thelatter now came running to catch them up.
"I think you will be tired," he said. "You ought to have stayed atmy relation's house down there."
"No, I am not tired," said Alvina. "But I'm hungry."
"Well, we shall eat something when we come to my house."
They plodded in the darkness of the valley high-road. Pancrazio tookthe lantern and went to examine the load, hitching the ropes. Agreat flat loaf fell out, and rolled away, and smack came a littlevalise. Pancrazio broke into a flood of dialect to Giovanni, handinghim the lantern. Ciccio picked up the bread and put it under hisarm.
"Break me a little piece," said Alvina.
And in the darkness they both chewed bread.
After a while, Pancrazio halted with the ass just ahead, and tookthe lantern from Giovanni.
"We must leave the road here," he said.
And with the lantern he carefully, courteously showed Alvina a smalltrack descending in the side of the bank, between bushes. Alvinaventured down the steep descent, Pancrazio following showing a light.In the rear was Giovanni, making noises at the ass. They all pickedtheir way down into the great white-bouldered bed of a mountain river.It was a wide, strange bed of dry boulders, pallid under the stars.There was a sound of a rushing river, glacial-sounding. The placeseemed wild and desolate. In the distance was a darkness of bushes,along the far shore.
Pancrazio swinging the lantern, they threaded their way through theuneven boulders till they came to the river itself--not very wide,but rushing fast. A long, slender, drooping plank crossed over.Alvina crossed rather tremulous, followed by Pancrazio with thelight, and Ciccio with the bread and the valise. They could hear theclick of the ass and the ejaculations of Giovanni.
Pancrazio went back over the stream with the light. Alvina saw thedim ass 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 thestream. Pancrazio seized the leading rope angrily and turnedupstream.
"Why were donkeys made! They are beasts without sense," his voicefloated angrily across the chill darkness.
Ciccio laughed. He and Alvina stood in the wide, stony river-bed, inthe strong starlight, watching the dim figures of the ass and themen crawl upstream with the lantern.
Again the same performance, the white muzzle of the ass stoopingdown to sniff the water suspiciously, his hind-quarters tilted upwith the load. Again the angry yells and blows from Pancrazio. Andthe ass seemed to be taking the water. But no! After a longdeliberation he drew back. Angry language sounded through thecrystal air. The group with the lantern moved again upstream,becoming smaller.
Alvina and Ciccio stood and watched. The lantern looked small up thedistance. But there--a clocking, shouting, splashing 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. Youmight kill him before he should go."
They picked their way across the river bed, to the wild scrub andbushes of the farther side. There they waited for the ass, whichcame up clicking over the boulders, led by the patient Giovanni. Andthen 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 ass. And then again they struck off tothe 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 stepsfurther. Now we are on my land."
They were treading a rough sort of grass-land--and still climbing.It ended in a sudden little scramble between big stones, andsuddenly they were on the threshold of a quite important-lookinghouse: but it was all dark.
"Oh!" exclaimed Pancrazio, "they have done nothing that I toldthem." He made queer noises of exasperation.
"What?" said Alvina.
"Neither made a fire nor anything. Wait a minute--"
The ass came up. Ciccio, Alvina, Giovanni and the ass waited in thefrosty starlight under the wild house. Pancrazio disappeared roundthe back. Ciccio talked to Giovanni. He seemed uneasy, as if he feltdepressed.
Pancrazio returned with the lantern, and opened the big door. Alvinafollowed him into a stone-floored, wide passage, where stood farmimplements, where a little of straw and beans lay in a corner, andwhence rose bare wooden stairs. So much she saw in the glimpse oflantern-light, as Pancrazio pulled the string and entered thekitchen: a dim-walled room with a vaulted roof and a great dark,open hearth, fireless: a bare room, with a little rough darkfurniture: an unswept stone floor: iron-barred windows, rathersmall, in the deep-thickness of the wall, one-half shut with a drabshutter. It was rather like a room on the stage, gloomy, not meantto be lived in.
"I will make a light," said Pancrazio, taking a lamp from themantel-piece, and proceeding to wind it up.
Ciccio stood behind Alvina, silent. He had put down the bread andvalise 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 greatblack chimney, it really was. But Ciccio did not understand. Hesmiled gloomily.
The lamp was lighted. Alvina looked round in wonder.
"Now I will make a fire. You, Ciccio, will help Giovanni with thedonkey," said Pancrazio, scuttling with the lantern.
Alvina looked at the r
oom. There was a wooden settle in front of thehearth, stretching its back to the room. There was a little tableunder a square, recessed window, on whose sloping ledge werenewspapers, scattered letters, nails and a hammer. On the table weredried beans and two maize cobs. In a corner were shelves, with twochipped enamel plates, and a small table underneath, on which stooda bucket of water with a dipper. Then there was a wooden chest, twolittle chairs, and a litter of faggots, cane, vine-twigs, baremaize-hubs, oak-twigs filling the corner by the hearth.
Pancrazio came scrambling in with fresh faggots.
"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 beuncomfortable in my poor home. I have no woman, nothing, everythingis wrong--"
He broke the pieces of cane and kindled them in the hearth. Soonthere 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. "Iam so hungry."
"You had better keep your coat on," said Pancrazio. "The room iscold." Which it was, ice-cold. She shuddered a little. She took offher hat and fur.
"Shall we fry some meat?" said Pancrazio.
He took a frying-pan, found lard in the wooden chest--it was thefood-chest--and proceeded to fry pieces of meat in a frying-pan overthe 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 twoenamel plates and one soup-plate, three penny iron forks and two oldknives, and a little grey, coarse salt in a wooden bowl. These heplaced on the seat of the settle in front of the fire. Ciccio wassilent.
The settle was dark and greasy. Alvina feared for her clothes. Butshe sat with her enamel plate and her impossible fork, a piece ofmeat and a chunk of bread, and ate. It was difficult--but the foodwas good, and the fire blazed. Only there was a film of wood-smokein 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 whatwas 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 wrinkledpears, and green, round grapes, and walnuts, on a white cloth, andpresented them.
"I think my pears are still good," he said. "You must eat them, andexcuse my uncomfortable house."
Giovanni came in with a big bowl of soup and a bottle of milk. Therewas room only for three on the settle before the hearth. He pushedhis chair among the litter of fire-kindling, and sat down. He hadbright, bluish eyes, and a fattish face--was a man of about fifty,but had a simple, kindly, slightly imbecile face. All the men kepttheir hats on.
The soup was from Giovanni's cottage. It was for Pancrazio and him.But there was only one spoon. So Pancrazio ate a dozen spoonfuls,and handed the bowl to Giovanni--who protested and tried torefuse--but accepted, and ate ten spoonfuls, then handed the bowlback to his brother, with the spoon. So they finished the bowlbetween them. Then Pancrazio found wine--a whitish wine, not verygood, for which he apologized. And he invited Alvina to coffee.Which she accepted gladly.
For though the fire was warm in front, behind was very cold.Pancrazio stuck a long pointed stick down the handle of a saucepan,and gave this utensil to Ciccio, to hold over the fire and scald themilk, whilst he put the tin coffee-pot in the ashes. He took a longiron tube or blow-pipe, which rested on two little feet at the farend. This he gave to Giovanni to blow the fire.
Giovanni was a fire-worshipper. His eyes sparkled as he took theblowing tube. He put fresh faggots behind the fire--though Pancrazioforbade him. He arranged the burning faggots. And then softly heblew a red-hot fire for the coffee.
"Basta! Basta!" said Ciccio. But Giovanni blew on, his eyessparkling, looking to Alvina. He was making the fire beautiful forher.
There was one cup, one enamelled mug, one little bowl. This was thecoffee-service. Pancrazio noisily ground the coffee. He seemed to doeverything, old, stooping as he was.
At last Giovanni took his leave--the kettle which hung on the hookover the fire was boiling over. Ciccio burnt his hand lifting itoff. And at last, at last Alvina could go to bed.
Pancrazio went first with the candle--then Ciccio with the blackkettle--then Alvina. The men still had their hats on. Their bootstramped noisily on the bare stairs.
The bedroom was very cold. It was a fair-sized room with a concretefloor and white walls, and window-door opening on a little balcony.There were two high white beds on opposite sides of the room. Thewash-stand was a little tripod thing.
The air was very cold, freezing, the stone floor was dead cold tothe feet. Ciccio sat down on a chair and began to take off hisboots. She went to the window. The moon had risen. There was a floodof light on dazzling white snow tops, glimmering and marvellous inthe evanescent night. She went out for a moment on to the balcony.It was a wonder-world: the moon over the snow heights, the pallidvalley-bed away below; the river hoarse, and round about her,scrubby, blue-dark foothills with twiggy trees. Magical it allwas--but so cold.
"You had better shut the door," said Ciccio.
She came indoors. She was dead tired, and stunned with cold, andhopelessly dirty after that journey. Ciccio had gone to bed withoutwashing.
"Why does the bed rustle?" she asked him.
It was stuffed with dry maize-leaves, the dry sheathes from thecobs--stuffed enormously high. He rustled like a snake among deadfoliage.
Alvina washed her hands. There was nothing to do with the water butthrow it out of the door. Then she washed her face, thoroughly, ingood hot water. What a blessed relief! She sighed as she driedherself.
"It does one good!" she sighed.
Ciccio watched her as she quickly brushed her hair. She was almoststupefied with weariness and the cold, bruising air. Blindly shecrept into the high, rustling bed. But it was made high in themiddle. And it was icy cold. It shocked her almost as if she hadfallen into water. She shuddered, and became semi-conscious withfatigue. The blankets were heavy, heavy. She was dazed withexcitement and wonder. She felt vaguely that Ciccio was miserable,and wondered why.
She woke with a start an hour or so later. The moon was in the room.She did not know where she was. And she was frightened. And she wascold. A real terror took hold of her. Ciccio in his bed was quitestill. Everything seemed electric with horror. She felt she woulddie instantly, everything was so terrible around her. She could notmove. She felt that everything around her was horrific,extinguishing her, putting her out. Her very being was threatened.In another instant she would be transfixed.
Making a violent effort she sat up. The silence of Ciccio in his bedwas as horrible as the rest of the night. She had a horror of himalso. What would she do, where should she flee? She waslost--lost--lost utterly.
The knowledge sank into her like ice. Then deliberately she got outof bed and went across to him. He was horrible and frightening, buthe was warm. She felt his power and his warmth invade her andextinguish her. The mad and desperate passion that was in him senther completely unconscious again, completely unconscious.