Part 7 (1/2)

CHAPTER XIII

LAKE GARDA

Rico walked a few paces away from the station and looked about him.

This large white building, the open s.p.a.ce in front of it, the winding street in the distance, were all strange to him. He was positive that he had never seen them before. He had to confess to himself, ”I have not come to the right place, after all.”

He sadly followed along the path between the trees until he came to a turn in the road which brought him to a sudden standstill, for before him lay the sky-blue lake, the water s.h.i.+mmering in the suns.h.i.+ne.

Yonder were the towering hills in the distance, with the faint outlines of the white dwellings in the valleys. How familiar it seemed! Many a time he had stood just where he was at present. He recognized the trees, but where was the house? Oh, there should be a little white house near by, but it was gone! There was the street that led to it. How well he remembered it! There were the red flowers in the abundance he had been used to seeing. There ought to be a bridge a little farther down. In his eagerness to see it he ran toward it, and sure enough, it was there, just as memory had pictured it.

A flood of recollections overpowered him. It was here that a lovely, loving woman had held him by the hand,--his mother. In fancy he saw her face distinctly and heard the sweet words of her lips, and understood anew the love revealed in her youthful eyes. Throwing himself upon the gra.s.s, Rico wept bitterly.

The sun was setting before he dried his eyes and began to think of what he should do. The golden evening glow that his memory had cherished was on the water, the hills had taken the violet tints, and the fragrance of the roses perfumed the air. The beauty of the place comforted him, and he thought, ”How I wish Stineli could see this!”

When Rico left the bridge, the sun had set and the light of day was fast fading away into darkness. It seemed more like a home than anything he had known for years, and he reluctantly left the place.

His first purpose was to take a closer look at the red flowers that he had noticed in the garden. He found a path leading from the street, where he could obtain a good view of them. It seemed to Rico that there must be bushels of the buds among the trees, shrubs, and vines.

Again he thought, ”If only Stineli could see them!”

Rico could see a st.u.r.dy boy in the garden, cutting grapes from the vines. The side door of the attractive white house in front of the garden stood wide open. The young man noticed Rico and stopped his whistling to say, ”Come here and play a tune if you can.” This was said in Italian, and Rico wondered at his own understanding of the words, for he was sure that he could not _speak_ like that. After the young man had asked some questions and discovered that Rico could not answer, he directed him to the house to play there.

Rico stopped at the door and played and sang Stineli's song from beginning to end. Through the open door he noticed a lady sitting beside a child's bed, sewing. When Rico was about to turn away, a little pale face was raised from the pillow and he heard a voice say, ”Play some more, please.”

Rico played another melody and again turned to go, but the child repeated, ”Play some more.”

So it happened time after time until Rico had played all the tunes he knew. When the little boy saw that Rico was really going away, he began to cry, begging Rico to come to him. The lady came out, offering a coin to Rico, who had played for the child with no thought of money.

Then it occurred to him again that Stineli had said that people would give him something if he played for them, so he took it and put it into his pocket.

The lady asked where Rico came from and where he was going, but he could not answer.

”Have you parents here?” she continued, and Rico shook his head in reply, thus telling her that he could understand. Then she asked if he were all alone, and Rico nodded. ”Then where will you go?” she questioned, and Rico shook his head with a little gesture to indicate that he did not know.

The lady called the young man from the garden, and Rico heard her direct him to take the child to the hotel for the night, and to tell the landlord that the bill for lodging and supper was to be sent to her. ”Perhaps the people at the hotel can understand the language he speaks,” she said. ”He must have been away a long time to forget so much. He is too young to be out alone, and I want you to tell them to show him the way he wishes to go in the morning.”

The little invalid was still crying, and the mother at last asked Rico if he would come to see him in the morning. As soon as he saw Rico nod his a.s.sent, the boy was satisfied.

It was about ten minutes' walk to the city proper. The young man led Rico directly to the landlady and explained his errand. In the meantime Rico noticed that the living room was filled with men who were smoking and talking. He heard the landlady dismiss the boy with, ”Very well, I will do as you say.”

She looked Rico over from head to foot as she asked him where he came from. He answered in German that he had come down the Maloja and could understand what the people said, although he could not speak in the same way. The landlord, who understood German, told Rico that he had been up to the mountains himself.

”We will talk about it later,” he said, ”if you will play for the guests a few moments first.” They had called for music as soon as they saw the violin.

Rico was very tired, but he obediently played and sang, beginning as usual with Stineli's song. None of the guests understood German, and they talked and laughed during the song. As soon as he had finished, some one called for a lively tune, and Rico tried to think of something they might like. He had never heard the music of the dance halls, but he finally thought of

”Una sera In Peschiera.”

The men joined Rico in the singing, much to his surprise, and they made the strongest chorus he had ever heard. It was fine to lead so many voices, and he played through the whole number of verses.