Part 84 (1/2)

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.