Irma in Italy: A Travel Story

  CHAPTER XIII

  OLD SIENA--AND NEW FRIENDS

  When Irma looked out of her window before breakfast her first morning atSiena, she was surprised to see before her not a town street, but whatseemed a section of farming country, with vegetable gardens andoccasional small cottages. She saw men and women at work in the fields,and she wondered whether she were awake or asleep. For her impression ofSiena, as they had driven through the streets the night before, was of aclosely built town. When she had dressed, she hastened from her room tosee what impression she would get from a front window.

  It seemed to be a morning of surprises, for as she passed asitting-room at the head of the stairs, she heard Marion laughing, yes,actually laughing, and other voices were mingled with his inconversation and laughter, too.

  So surprised was Irma that she paused, with her hand on the banister,and a moment later Marion stood beside her.

  "Come in, there is some one here you ought to meet," he said, and almostbefore she realized it he had led her into the room. The faces of thetwo girls who stood near the window were certainly not exactly the facesof strangers, and yet she could not tell where she had previously seenthem.

  "Miss Grimston, Miss Sanford, this is Irma Derrington."

  At these words of Marion's she realized who the strangers were, the twogirls she had seen at the Naples Aquarium.

  "Don't I come in for an introduction, too?" said a boy's voice, almostbefore Irma had a chance to say a word to the two girls, and at the samemoment a tall, blue-eyed boy came forward with a smile. "I am RichardSanford," he said pleasantly.

  "Come, children, come to breakfast," cried Uncle Jim, now appearing atthe door; "your aunt will have her coffee upstairs."

  Then he started back. "Excuse me," he said, "I did not realize thatSiena was so full of young Americans," and then Marion repeated theintroductions.

  In the breakfast room a table was found where all the young people couldsit together, under the vigilant eye of Uncle Jim, "a chaperon _protem_," as he called himself, whose chief duty it was to see that theydid not let their conversation interfere with their appetites. Beforethe meal ended he had made them admit that he had done his duty.

  "We have seen all the most important things in Siena," Katie Grimstonexplained, "but we had arranged to be here a week, and that gives us twodays more. Mrs. Sanford happens to be rather tired to-day, and while sheis resting we can go about with you if you'd like to have us."

  "Indeed we should," responded Uncle Jim, "for if you have been over theground, you can probably save us many steps."

  "Of course we won't promise to go everywhere, but we can save you timeat first."

  A little later Irma was at the door, ready to start. The street in frontof the house looked like the street of some pleasant New England suburb.The houses seemed comparatively modern. But not so very far away shecaught glimpses of roofs crowded together, and of the tower of a largechurch.

  Marion and Katie and Uncle Jim had gone off a little ahead of theothers, and Irma found herself with Richard Sanford and his sister.

  "Let us take a short cut to the Duomo," said Richard. "We've alwaysdriven, but it would really be more fun to walk."

  The girls assented, and the three set off in good spirits. But Richard,although he asked his way once or twice, did not pay close attention todirections, and they quickly found themselves going down a steep, narrowstreet that had no sidewalk, and was paved with large stones that madewalking difficult. The street was full of people, chiefly women andlittle children, and some of the children gathered around the Americansas they passed along.

  "The only thing I know about the cathedral," protested Irma, when theyfound themselves at the bottom of the long street, "is that it occupiesthe highest land in Siena, which I am sure we shall never reach if wekeep going down hill."

  "Patience, patience," cried Richard pleasantly. "I'll show you that Iam a regular Duke of York," and he stepped aside to talk with anintelligent-looking woman in a doorway, who gesticulated while shetalked.

  "Her gestures tell me more than her words," said Richard, "and all wehave to do, evidently, is to turn a corner or two and go up hill again."

  "Oh, Richard, you are so heedless. You should have thought twice beforebringing us down here," cried his sister.

  "But think what fun to go up those queer little stepping-stones," andwith a long stride Richard was soon so far ahead of them that again theonly sensible thing was to follow.

  For a moment he was out of sight around a corner, and when they cameupon him, he was on the steps of a building that was at a considerablylower level than the cathedral towering above. Then they followed himwithin, and Ellen fortunately withheld her word of reproof, which mightotherwise have seemed an interruption to a service that was going on.

  "A christening," she whispered to Irma; "this must be the baptistery."

  "See, there are two of them. I believe they are twins." Both girls nowdrew nearer to the font. There were several persons besides the priest,and two of the women wore cloaks with bright linings, one blue, onepink. The lady of the pink-lined cloak held in her arms a baby with acloak of the same color, and a baby in a blue cloak was held by thewearer of the blue-lined cloak.

  "I wish we could look at them," whispered Ellen, as the children andtheir train turned away from the font. "I do so love to see twins," andthen, to the surprise of both girls, the baby in the blue cloak wascarried out of the baptistery, followed by her parents and grandparents,without a farewell to the baby in the pink cloak; while the parents ofthe other child sat down for a minute or two before taking him away.

  "They are not twins. They are not even brother and sister," cried Ellen,in a tone of great dejection.

  "As if that made any difference!" exclaimed Richard, overhearing her."Oh, Ellen, you can be such a goose. But come, after you have admiredDonatello's stunning St. John, we must go outside and take a few moresteps up to the cathedral."

  From the piazza the black and white striped marble, the gabled frontand its fine sculptures, reminded Irma of the Orvieto Duomo. But it hadnot the rich color of the other. On each side of the door were columnssurmounted by a marble wolf.

  "Oh, you must get used to _La Lupa_ in Siena. You know the story goesthat Siena was founded by Senus, son of Remus, hence the Sienese claimthe wolf as their especial emblem. You'll see it everywhere. Now followme and listen attentively, young ladies, and you'll find you can 'do'this vast Duomo in the shortest time on record. No, no."

  The last was said to a guide who was following them closely, ahalf-grown boy, who was not easily shaken off.

  "Richard really is a very good guide," whispered Ellen. "He knows somany stories about everything, and when he doesn't remember he can makeup something just as interesting."

  In consequence of this remark of Ellen's, Irma was not always sure howmuch was truth and how much imagination, in the legends that Richardrapidly told of saints and church dignitaries, painted on the walls, ordone in graffito in the marble pavement. But of one thing she wascertain, she had never seen a building so complete in its carvings,whether of wood or marble, its paintings and gildings. She admired thetall flagstaffs captured at Montaperti, though they seemed out of placein a church. She stood long, studying the details of the exquisitemarble pulpit by Nicholas Pisano, when Richard exclaimed, "The mostbeautiful pulpit in Europe. He worked on it for three years, and thenreceived for it--about thirty dollars."

  "Is that the truth or a legend?" she asked, smiling.

  "The real true truth," he answered. "I saw it in a book of accounts inthe Municipal building. They have a great many interesting manuscriptsthere. The letters of Catherine of Siena, and many other autographswould fetch their weight in gold in our country."

  "An autograph wouldn't weigh very much," suggested Irma.

  But Richard took no notice of the interruption.

  "Well, I made a particular note about Nicholas Pisano. So I am sure I amright. But come, if you wish to do the cathedral in the sho
rtest knowntime, we must go at once to the library."

  "I am not in so tremendous a hurry."

  "Ah, that's because you have no idea how much there is in Siena. See,there's the librarian letting one group of victims go. We can easilyslip in."

  The room they now entered, though small, was beautifully decorated.Above the rich woodwork were ten frescoes on the walls, each a completescene from the life of some hero.

  "He is Enio Sylvio Piccolomini," explained their self-appointed guide,"who became Pope Pius II, and isn't that a funny scene where he istrying to persuade the king of Scotland to harry the border so thatHenry VI of England may have so much to do at home that he won'tinterfere with the affairs on the continent?"

  "Oh, but the colors are so rich, and Enio Sylvio, if he looked likethat, must have been a very interesting person."

  Richard laughed at Irma's seriousness.

  "Pinturicchio knew how to please Pope Pius III, the nephew of EnioSylvio, who engaged him to paint these pictures. But still, on thewhole, I imagine that the Piccolomini were rather interesting. Forgenerations they held the chief offices in the church here in Siena, andin the years they were fighting with the Tolmei, they kept things prettylively. But in Enio Sylvio's time the worst of the Civil Wars were over.But now come," and Richard looked at his watch. "You can have only fiveminutes for all these illuminated books."

  "Oh, more than that," cried Ellen.

  "No, my dear, that is enough for a general impression, which is all youwould retain if you were to spend an hour here."

  The five minutes, however, lengthened into ten before Ellen and Irmawere ready to leave the fascinating folios in their leather bindings.They were all books of devotion, some of them music books, with thechants of the church, and all of them illustrated with tiny paintingsrich in color.

  "It is all very well to hurry us," said Ellen, as they walked toward thedoor of the Duomo, "but you spent a whole morning here, and this is myfirst visit, as well as Miss Derrington's."

  "You have a good enough general impression," replied Richard, with alaugh; "and what more can any one expect, on a first visit?"

  "Evidently," thought Irma, "Richard Sanford looks on sightseeing much asUncle Jim does."

  A little later, at the great door, Irma and her friends almost ran intoUncle Jim, behind whom walked Katie Grimston and Marion.

  "Well, you must have taken the longest way round; where in the worldhave you been, Katie?" asked Ellen.

  "Oh, we came through the town, and there were so many nice little shopsthere that I had to stop, as I always do," replied Katie, whose handswere full of little bundles. "Besides, none of us were in a great hurryfor the cathedral. You know I have been all through it," and she glancedcoquettishly at Richard. "If you wish us to go on with you now, we canas well as not," she added.

  "You must suit yourself, but as Marion and his uncle have not been here,I should think you'd like to give them the advantage of your superiorknowledge."

  Then Uncle Jim spoke for himself. "I really think Marion and I ought totake a turn around inside, if nothing more. But Miss Grimston----"

  "Oh, of course I'd rather do what you do," said Katie, turning her backto Richard, who thereupon went outside. Then after Irma had had a wordor two with Uncle Jim, she and Ellen found Richard near a carriage.

  "It is too warm to walk, and I am going to take you down to the Campo.It is the most interesting spot here in Siena and I wish to be the firstto show it to you."

  "Oh, not more interesting than St. Catherine's house," said Ellen.

  "More interesting to me, and I believe it will be to Miss Derrington,"said Richard.

  As they drove along, Irma realized that it was indeed strange that sheshould be so contented in the company of Ellen and Richard, two personsof whom she had not even heard until this very morning. As if he readher thoughts, Richard said rather abruptly, "I suppose Marion hasn't hada chance to tell you that he and I used to go to school together in NewYork. That was years ago, when we were first out of the kindergarten.Lately he has studied at home, and I've been off at boarding school, soI have seen him only occasionally in my holidays. You must have seenmore of him, Ellen."

  "Oh, no," responded his sister. "Until to-day, I had hardly even seenhim since he was a small boy. Of course I felt very sorry for him thiswinter."

  "Ah, here we are!" and Richard signalled the driver to pull up, as theyreached the end of a narrow street.

  "Oh, it is picturesque!" cried Irma, looking at the square before her.The great open space was hardly a square, but a piazza tending toward asemicircle, and slightly lower than the street. On the side farthestfrom them were several fine buildings, from one of which rose a high,square tower, of which Irma remembered to have seen many pictures. Thenshe recalled something she had just read. Surely Richard would know.

  "Yes," responded Richard. "This is the very tower they are copying forthe Provincetown monument. What a genuine Yankee you are to remember.There," continued Richard, "this is the famous Campo. It is in a hollow,where the three hills of Siena meet. How I should like to have seen itfive or six hundred years ago, on one of those days when a fisticuffgame was going on, or one of the more exciting donkey races. Oh, itmakes our sports to-day seem tame, when we read what these old Sieneseused to do. You see," he continued, without waiting for the girls to askquestions, "at one of these fisticuff fights one Sunday before Carnival,the fighters on one side grew so excited when driven off the ground thatthey fell upon their opponents with sticks and stones, and then withlances and darts, and all of Siena crowded to the neighborhood. Thesoldiers, the greatest men of the city, too, tried in vain to stop them,and some of the soldiers were killed. Then people who lived in the verypalaces we're looking at threw stones out of their windows, but the mobonly threatened to set fire to the houses."

  "Well, how did it end?" asked Ellen impatiently.

  "Oh, the fight would probably have continued to this day, if some one,after several soldiers had been killed, had not thought of getting theBishop of Siena, and all the Friars here to come down to the Campo, andwhen they began to march in a solemn procession right through the thickof the fight, carrying the cross and other religious emblems, of coursethe fighting stopped. But naturally their games were not often asexciting as this."

  "What were the donkey races like?"

  "Oh, quite different. The city was divided into _contrade_, ordistricts, and on the days of the races each district appeared with itscaptain and other officers, with its special banner, and a donkeypainted in its colors. The game was to get the donkeys to go twicearound the Campo. No one on the field was permitted to have a weapon ofany kind, not even a finger ring, but they could fight and push and doall in their power to prevent any donkey's winning, except that of theirown district. After the donkey races died out they used to have buffaloraces; you know," in a tone of contempt, "the kind of buffaloes theyhave in Italy, and later horse races, which they still have."

  "Here on the Campo? How I should like to see them."

  "Then you must come here the second of July or the middle of August. The_Palio_ is the name given to the race, and as the city is still dividedinto _contrade_, these horses are mounted by representatives of thedifferent ones. But I have a friend who came here one summer, and hesays that in spite of the crowds and the display of rich banners andcolors these races are now rather tame affairs."

  "Nothing is what it used to be," said Ellen, half mockingly. "Mybrother," she explained, turning to Irma, "is romantic, and alwayslonging for the past, in spite of which I don't believe he would havecared to live in Italy in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries."

  "Well, they did some things better than we can, the men of those days.Just come for a moment to the Palazzo Municipio, and I'll show you somepictures that will make you envy the Sienese."

  As the girls followed he marched them rapidly from room to room,decorated with enormous frescoes, in which were shown the victories ofthe Sienese over their neighbors, especially over thei
r chief rival,Florence. From the great Council Hall they passed to the Hall of theNine, who at one time were supreme in the Government of Siena. After oneor two efforts Irma ceased trying to understand the allegorical figuresthat had almost as large a place in the pictures as the historical. Butthe color was so beautiful, and generally the paintings were so pleasingthat she restrained the laugh that was often on her lips, when somethingappeared to her particularly absurd. But Richard, who had been herebefore, had the meanings of the allegories, as well as the historicalincidents, at his tongue's end.

  In one room, he told them, a treacherous leader of the Sienese forceshad been entrapped and stabbed to death by The Fifteen, who then werethe rulers of Siena, and he would have described fully theseblood-curdling events, if Ellen had permitted.

  Finally, as they drove towards home, Richard pointed out several oldpalaces in which leading families had lived, and in almost every case hehad a tale of Salimbeni or Tolomei or Saraceni in the days when thefollowers of one great house would kill hundreds of the followers of theother. "When," said Richard, "these narrow streets literally ran bloodin those old days of Guelph and Ghibelline."

  "Thank you," said Irma faintly, as they reached their hotel, "I feel asif I had swallowed a whole history."

  "Well," responded Richard, "I thought it was well for you to accomplishall you could this morning, for I don't see why you shouldn't make quickwork with Siena, and go on with us to-morrow or the next day to SanGimignano."

  "I don't know, I am sure, what Aunt Caroline's plans are," said Irma,"but I can ask her."

  Yet she realized that she could not repeat Richard's strange name."San--what?"