Martha Trent - Lucia Rudini
M >>
Martha Trent >> Lucia Rudini
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
file which includes the original illustrations.
See 17666-h.htm or 17666-h.zip:
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/6/6/17666/17666-h/17666-h.htm)
or
(http://www.gutenberg.net/dirs/1/7/6/6/17666/17666-h.zip)
LUCIA RUDINI
Somewhere in Italy
by
MARTHA TRENT
Illustrated by Chas. L. Wrenn
[Illustration: Cover art--Lucia Rudini.]
[Frontispiece: "My pet, see how you frightened
the brave Austrian soldier"]
New York
Barse & Hopkins
Publishers
Copyright, 1918
by
Barse & Hopkins
DEDICATED TO
R. J. U.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I CELLINO
II MARIA
III BEFORE DAYBREAK
IV LOST
V IN THE TOOL SHED
VI GARIBALDI PERFORMS
VII THE BEGGAR
VIII THE SURPRISE ATTACK
IX THE BRIDGE
X GARIBALDI, STRETCHER-BEARER
XI THE AMERICAN
XII A REUNION
XIII AN INTERRUPTED DREAM
XIV THE FAIRY GODFATHER
XV EXCITING NEWS
XVI THE KING
XVII GOOD-BY TO CELLINO
XVIII IN THE GARDEN
XIX BACK TO FIGHT
XX AN INTERRUPTED SAIL
XXI THE END OF THE STORY
ILLUSTRATIONS
"'My pet, see how you frightened the brave
Austrian soldier'" . . . . . . _Frontispiece_
"The Soldiers came and chattered and laughed"
"Together they drove the goats before them"
"Lucia and Garibaldi toiled up the hill, each one
using every bit of their strength"
LUCIA RUDINI
CHAPTER I
CELLINO
Lucia Rudini folded her arms across her gaily-colored bodice, tilted
her dark head to one side and laughed.
"I see you, little lazy bones," she said. "Wake up!"
A small body curled into a ball in the grass at her feet moved
slightly, and a sleepy voice whimpered, "Oh, Lucia, go away. I was
having such a nice dream about our soldiers up there, and I was just
killing a whole regiment of Austrians, and now you come and spoil it."
A curly black head appeared above the tops of the flowers, and two
reproachful brown eyes stared up at her.
Lucia laughed again. "Poor Beppino, some one is always disturbing your
fine dreams, aren't they? But come now, I have something far better
than dreams for you," she coaxed.
"What?" Beppi was on his feet in an instant, and the sleepy look
completely disappeared.
"Ha, ha, now you are curious," Lucia teased, "aren't you? Well, you
shan't see what I have, until you promise to do what I ask."
Beppi's round eyes narrowed, and a cunning expression appeared in their
velvety depth.
"I suppose I am not to tell Nana that you left the house before sunrise
this morning," he said.
Lucia looked at him for a brief moment in startled surprise, then she
replied quickly, "No, that is not it at all. What harm would it do if
you told Nana? I am often up before sunrise."
"Yes, but you don't go to the mountains," Beppi interrupted. "Oh, I
saw you walking smack into the guns. What were you doing?" He dropped
his threatening tone, so incongruous with his tiny body, and coaxed
softly, "please tell me, sister mine."
"Silly head!" Lucia was breathing freely again, "there is nothing to
tell. I heard the guns all night, and they made me restless, so I went
for a walk. Go and tell Nana if you like, I don't care."
Beppi's small mind returned to the subject at hand.
"Then if it isn't that, what is it you want me to do?" he inquired, and
continued without giving his sister time to reply. "It's to take care
of them, I suppose," he grumbled, pointing a browned berry-stained
little finger at a herd of goats that were grazing contentedly a little
farther down the slope.
"Yes, that's it, and good care of them too," Lucia replied. "You are
not to go to sleep again, remember, and be sure and watch Garibaldi, or
she will stray away and get lost."
"And a good riddance too," Beppi commented under his breath.
He did not share in the general admiration for the "Illustrious and
Gentile Senora Garibaldi," the favorite goat of his sister's herd.
Perhaps the vivid recollection of Garibaldi's hard head may have
accounted for his aversion. Lucia heard his remark and was quick to
defend her pet.
"Aren't you ashamed to speak so?" she exclaimed, "I've a good mind not
to give you the candy after all."
"Oh, Lucia, please, please!" Beppi begged. "I will take such good care
of them, I promise, and if you like, I will pick the tenderest grass
for old crosspatch," he added grudgingly.
Lucia smiled in triumph, and from the pocket of her dress she pulled
out a small pink paper bag.
"Here you are then," she said; "and I won't be away very long. I am
just going to see Maria for a few minutes."
Beppi caught the bag as she tossed it, and lingered over the opening of
it. He wanted to prolong his pleasure as long as possible. Candy in
war times was a treat and one that the Rudinis seldom indulged in.
As if to echo his thoughts, Lucia called back over her shoulder as she
walked away, "Don't eat them fast, for they are the last you will get
for a long time."
Beppi did not bother to reply, but he acted on the advice, and selected
a big lemon drop that looked hard and everlasting, and set about
sucking it contentedly.
Lucia walked quickly over the grass to a small white-washed cottage a
little distance away. She approached it from the side and peeked
through one of the tiny windows. Old Nana Rudini, her grandmother, was
sitting in a low chair beside the table in the low-ceilinged room. Her
head nodded drowsily, and the white lace that she was making lay
neglected in her lap. Lucia smiled to herself in satisfaction and
stole gently away from the window.
The Rudinis lived about a mile beyond the north gate of Cellino, an old
Italian town built on the summit of a hill. Cellino was not
sufficiently important to appear in the guide books, but it boasted of
two possessions above its neighbors,--a beautiful old church opposite
the market place, and a broad stone wall that dated back to the days of
Roman supremacy. It was still in perfect preservation, and completely
surrounded the town giving it the appearance of a mediaeval fortress,
rather than a twentieth century village. Two roads led to it, one from
the south through the Porto Romano, and one from the north, up-hill and
from the valley below. It was up the latter that Lucia walked. She
was in a hurry and she swung along with a firm, graceful step, her
head, crowned by its heavy dark hair, held high and her shoulders
straight.
The soldier on guard at the gate watched her as she drew nearer. She
was a pleasing picture in her bright-colored gown against the glaring
sun on the dusty white road. Roderigo Vicello had only arrived that
morning in Cellino, and Lucia was not the familiar little figure to him
that she was to the other soldiers. But she was none the less welcome
for that, after the monotony of the day, and Roderigo as she came
nearer straightened up self-consciously and tilted his black patent
leather hat with its rakish cluster of cock feathers a little more to
one side.
"Good day, Senorina," he said smiling, as Lucia paused in the grateful
shadow of the wall to catch her breath.
"Good day to you," she replied good-naturedly.
"You're new, aren't you? I never saw you before. Where is Paolo?"
"Paolo and his regiment go up to the front this afternoon," Roderigo
replied. "We have just come to relieve them for a short time, then we
too will follow."
Lucia nodded. "You come from the south, don't you?" she inquired,
looking at him with frank admiration; "from near Napoli I should guess
by your speech."
Roderigo laughed. "You guess right, I do, and now it is my turn to ask
questions. Where do you come from?"
"Down there about a mile," Lucia pointed, "in the white cottage by the
road."
Roderigo looked at the dark hair and eyes and the gaudily colored dress
before him, and shook his head.
"Now perhaps," he admitted, "but you were born in the south where the
sun really shines and the sky is blue and not a dull gray, or else
where did you come by those eyes and those straight shoulders?"
Lucia looked up at the dazzling sky above her and laughed.
"And I suppose that spot is Napoli," she teased. "Well, you don't
guess as well as I do, for I was born here and I have lived here all my
life."
"'All my life,'" Roderigo mimicked. "How very long you make that
sound, Senorina, and yet you look no older than my little sister."
Lucia drew herself up to her full height and did not deign a direct
reply.
"Fourteen years is a long time, Senor," she said gravely, "when you
have many worries."
"But you are too young to have many worries," Roderigo protested; "or I
beg your pardon, perhaps you have some one up there?" he pointed to the
north, where the high peaks of the Alps were visible at no great
distance.
"No, not now," Lucia replied; "for my father was killed a year ago."
Roderigo was silent for a little, then he raised one shoulder in a
characteristic shrug.
"War," he said slowly. "We all have our turn."
Lucia nodded and returned almost at once to her gay mood.
"But you are still wondering how I got my black hair and eyes up here,"
she laughed.
"Well, I will tell you. My mother came from your beautiful Napoli, and
Nana, that is my grandmother, says I inherited my foolish love of gay
clothes from her. Nana does not like gay clothes, but my father always
liked me to wear them."
"Then your mother is dead too?" Roderigo asked respectfully.
"When I was a little girl, and when Beppino was a tiny baby. Beppi is
my little brother," Lucia explained.
Roderigo's eyes were shining with delight. There was something in
Lucia's soft tones that filled his homesick heart with joy. She was so
different from most of the girls from the north, with their strange
high voices and unfriendly manners. If she wasn't exactly from the
south she was near it. He wanted to sit down beside her and tell her
all about his home and his family, for he was very young and very
homesick, but Lucia decreed otherwise.
"Now do see what you have done," she scolded suddenly. "You have kept
me talking here until the sun is well down, and I will have to hurry if
I want to see Maria and return home before Nana misses me. So much for
gabbing on the high road with some one who should be watching for
suspicious spies instead of asking questions," she finished with a
provoking toss of her head.
Which sentence, considering that she had asked the first questions
herself, was unjust. Roderigo, however, did not seem to resent the
blame laid upon him. He did not even offer to contradict, but watched
Lucia until she disappeared around a corner a few streets beyond the
gate, and then he turned resolutely about and scanned the road with
searching determination, as if he really believed that the open,
smiling country about him might be concealing a spy.
When Lucia disappeared around the comer of the narrow street that led
to the market place, she stopped long enough to laugh softly to herself.
"The great silly! He took all the blame himself instead of boxing my
ears for being impertinent. A fine soldier he'll make! If I can scare
him, what will the guns do?" she said aloud, and then with a roguish
gleam of mischief in her eyes she hurried on.
The narrow side streets through which she passed were almost deserted,
but when she reached the market place it was thronged with people.
Every one was out to look at the new troops, and in the little square
the great white umbrellas over the market stalls were surrounded by
soldiers. Their picturesque uniforms added a gala note to the
commonplace little scene.
Lucia elbowed her way through the jostling, laughing men to a certain
umbrella, a little to one side of the open space left clear before the
church.
CHAPTER II
MARIA
A neatly-dressed, dumpy little woman in a black dress and shawl sat
beneath it, and behind a row of stone crocks beside her was a young
girl several years older than Lucia, who ladled out cupfuls of the milk
that the crocks contained, and gave them, always accompanied by a shy
little smile, to the soldiers in return for their pennies. She was
Maria Rudini, Lucia's cousin, a pretty, gentle-featured girl with shy,
bewildered eyes.
People often spoke of her quiet loveliness until they saw her younger
cousin. Then their attention was apt to be diverted, for Maria's
delicate charms seemed pale beside Lucia's southern beauty, and in the
same manner her courage grew less. Although she was three years older,
Maria never questioned Lucia's authority to lead.
When Lucia's father had died, the kindly heart of Maria's mother had
prompted her to offer her home to his children, but Lucia had declined
the offer. She said she would undertake the support of old Nana and
Beppi and herself. There was considerable disapproval over her
decision, but as was generally the case, Lucia had her own way. Her
method of wage-earning was a simple one. Her father had owned a herd
of goats and a garden, and the two had provided ample support for the
needs of the family. At his death Lucia, with characteristic
selection, had given up the garden and kept the goats.
Every morning she milked them and carried the bright pails to town,
where her aunt sold them at her little stall along with cheese and
sausage. The profits wore not great, but they wore enough.
"Is that the milk I brought in this morning?" Lucia asked incredulously
as she approached the stall.
"No, no, my dear," her aunt replied, shaking her head. "You brought
scarcely two full pails, and they were gone before you had reached the
gate. We have had a great day, so many soldiers, it is a shame that
you cannot bring in more, for we could sell it. Just see, we had to
send to old Paolo's for this, and it is not as rich as yours of course,
for his poor beasts have only the weeds between the cobblestones to
eat."
"That is because he is a lazy old man and won't take the trouble to
lead his herd out on the slopes to graze," Lucia replied. She put her
hands on her hips and swayed back and forth as she talked. It was a
little trait she had inherited from her mother, and one of her most
characteristic poses.
"How well you look to-day!" Maria said, smiling. "I have been wishing
you would come, we are so busy--see, here come a group of soldiers all
together. Will you help me?" She held out a dipper with a long
handle, which Lucia accepted critically.
"I don't like charging full price for this milk which is more like
water," she said.
"Nonsense, child, it is business, the soldiers know no difference; it
is only your silly pride," her aunt scolded. She was a little in awe
of her determined niece, and very often she was provoked at her.
"If you can't bring us more milk, we must do the best we can," she said
meaningly. "You used to bring us twice this much."
Lucia shrugged her shoulders and tossed her head. "I can bring no more
than I bring," she said, and turned her attention to the soldiers
before her.
But the explanation did not satisfy her thrifty aunt. She was no
authority on goats, but she had enough sense to know that the supply of
milk does not dwindle to one-half the usual quantity over night. Still
she did not voice her suspicions.
Lucia and Maria were busy for the rest of the afternoon. Lucia's
flowered dress and brilliantly-colored bandana that she wore tied over
her head, were added attractions to Senora Rudini's stall, and the
soldiers from the south came and chattered and laughed.
[Illustration: "The soldiers came and chattered and laughed."]
"What a pity we have no more," Maria said as the last crock was
emptied, and they set about preparing to return home. "We could go on
selling all night now that Lucia is here."
"Well, it is high time to go home, I am tired," her mother replied
crossly. "Hurry with what you are doing."
Lucia was busy closing the big umbrella.
"It is late, I will have to hurry, or Beppi will have let all my goats
run away--he and his dreams. He is a lazy little one, but I can't bear
to scold him," she said. "He is too little to understand."
Her aunt nodded. "Let him dream, but if you are not careful, he will
be badly spoiled."
"No fear of that," Lucia replied, "while Nana has a word to say. She
is always for bringing him up properly, but little good it does. Now
we are ready, I will help you carry home your things, if you will let
Maria walk with me to the gate," Lucia bargained.
"Oh, she may I suppose, though she should be at home helping me prepare
the dinner. I suppose you have some secrets between you that an old
grayhead can't hear," she grumbled good-naturedly.
"Oh, yes a fine secret!" Lucia replied laughing, as she picked up the
greatest share of the burden and led the way.
Maria and her mother lived in an old stone house that had once been a
palace. It was hardly palatial now, but it was very picturesque. It
housed five families besides the Rudinis, and in spite of the many
lines of wash that floated from its windows, it still retained enough
of its old grandeur to be an interesting spot to the occasional tourist
who visited Cellino. Maria and her mother were very proud of this
distinction. It made up somewhat for the loss of their house, which
they had been forced to leave, when six months before Maria's two
brothers had gone off to fight.
The new quarters were not far from the market place and they soon
reached them. Their rooms were on the ground floor, and Lucia and
Maria made haste to drop what they were carrying and start off again at
a much slower pace for the gate. The sun was low in the west. It was
setting in a bank of golden clouds over the little river that ran
parallel with the west wall of the town. Lucia stopped to look at it.
"Rain to-morrow, I suppose, by the look of those clouds," she said, a
real pucker of concern between her eyes.
"And no wonder," Maria agreed, "with all this banging of guns one would
think it would rain all the time out of pity for so much suffering."
"Now, Maria, don't begin to cry," Lucia protested not unkindly. "It
will do you no good, and it will only make things look worse than they
really are."
"How can they?" Maria demanded, with more show of resentment than was
usual with her quiet acceptance of things. "Only this morning I sold
milk to such a sweet boy from the south. He had great sad, brown eyes
like yours, and he was very young and unhappy. His father and brother
were both killed, and now he is going."
"But perhaps he won't be killed," Lucia said practically. "Anyway, he
will get a chance to do a little killing first, and surely that is
enough to satisfy any one, or ought to be."
"Oh, Lucia you are cruel sometimes," Maria protested. "Who wants to
kill? Surely not these happy boys, and they don't want to be killed
either. It is all too terrible to think about, and you are an
unnatural girl to talk as you do. Why, I don't believe you have cried
once since the war began, even when the poor wounded were brought here,
and we saw their faces all shot away."
Maria's anger rose as she talked, and Lucia listened curiously. It was
something new for Maria to take her to task. Her mind flew back over
the past year, and she saw herself with her face buried in the grass
and her hands clenched, and remembered her furious anger and her vows
of vengeance, but she had to admit that her cousin was right; she had
shed no tears.
"We are not made the same way, I guess," she replied ruefully to
Maria's charges. "I cannot cry, I can only hate."
"But hate won't do any good," Maria protested feebly.
"It will do more than tears," Lucia replied shortly.
They continued their walk in silence, now and then nodding to an
acquaintance or bowing respectfully to the Sisters of Charity who lived
at the big Convent just outside the Porto Romano, and who came to town
to take care of the sick and cheer the broken-hearted. When they
reached the north gate Lucia stopped. Roderigo was still on duty, but
this time he did not pause in his brisk walk up and down to chat. He
never even glanced in the girls' direction.
Maria nodded towards him and whispered excitedly, "That is the boy I
was just now speaking of. Doesn't he look sad?"
"No, he looks quite cross," Lucia replied in a voice loud enough to be
overheard, and her eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, "I wonder
if he will let me through the gate to get home."
"May I pass, sir, please? I live a little beyond the wall, but I am
not a spy," she said with mock humility.
Roderigo blushed. A soldier does not like to be made fun of,
particularly when some one else is present.
"Pass," he said gruffly.
Lucia laughed provokingly.
"Good night, Maria," she said as she kissed her cousin. "Sweet dreams.
I may not be in very early in the morning, there is so much to do, you
know, but I will bring as much milk as possible," she finished. Then
without even a glance at Roderigo she walked through the gate and down
the wall.
When she had walked for a little distance she looked back. Maria and
the soldier were in earnest conversation. Maria in her timid way was
apologizing for her cousin's rudeness, and Roderigo was beginning to
have doubts of the superiority of Southern beauty over the Northern,
particularly when a gentle spirit was added to the charm of the latter.
Lucia did not know she was the subject of their talk. She shrugged her
shoulders and turned her thoughts to a more important question that was
puzzling her. It was, how to slip out of the house the next morning
without disturbing the already suspicious Beppi.
CHAPTER III
BEFORE DAYBREAK
Lucia found Beppi asleep in the grass, curled up in the same position
that he had been in earlier in the day. One of his little hands had
tight hold of the precious pink bag, and a sticky smile of blissful
content turned up the corners of his full red lips.
Lucia looked at him and shook her head. There might have been
twenty-seven instead of seven years between them, for there was
something protective in her expression.
"Little lazy bones, asleep again!" she said, shaking him gently.
Beppi stirred, one eye opened, and then with a sudden rush of memory he
sat up and began excitedly: "I just this minute fell asleep, just this
very second, truly, Lucia! I have watched the goats, oh, so carefully,
and they have not stirred,--see there they are only a little farther
away than when you left. I only closed my eyes because I thought I
might go on with that nice dream, but I didn't," he finished
sorrowfully.
Lucia laughed.
"Look at the sun," she pointed. "It is late, you should have driven
the goats home long ago. But I knew you would go to asleep after you
ate up all the candy, such a naughty little brother that you are. What
kind of a soldier would you make, I'd like to know, dreaming every few
minutes? Come along, get up,--we must hurry back to Nana, or she will
be worried."
She took his hand and together they drove the goats before them to the
cottage.
[Illustration: "Together they drove the goats before them."]
Nana Rudini was waiting for them at the door. She was a little,
wrinkled-up, old woman with bright blue eyes and thin gray hair. She
spoke very seldom and always in a high querulous voice.
"So you're back at last, are you?" she greeted, when the children were
within hearing. "Supper's been on the stove for too long. What kept
you?"
"Very busy day, Nana," Lucia spoke in much the same tone she had used
towards Beppi. "I had to help Aunt and Maria at market. More troops
have arrived and the streets are crowded."
"Oh, sister, you never told me that!" Beppi said accusingly. "Where
are they from?"
"The south mostly," Lucia replied, "fine soldiers they are too, if you
can judge by their looks."
"Which you can't," old Nana interrupted shortly. "Stop your talking
and come in to supper."
"Right away," Lucia promised, and hurried off to shut up her goats in
the small, half-tumbled-down shack at the back of the cottage.
Supper at the Rudinis consisted of boiled spaghetti, black bread and
cheese, with a cup full of milk apiece. It was not a very tempting
meal, but Lucia was hungry and ate with a hearty appetite.
After the three bowls had been washed and put away in the cupboard, she
helped her grandmother undress, and settled her comfortably in the
green enameled bed with its brass trimmings, that occupied a good part
of the small room. Lucia's mother had brought it with her from Naples,
and it was the most cherished and admired article of furniture that the
Rudinis owned.
"Are you comfortable, Nana?" Lucia inquired gently, as she smoothed the
fat, hard pillows in an attempt to make a rest for the old gray head.
"Yes, go to bed, child," Nana replied, and without more ado she closed
her eyes and went to sleep.
Lucia climbed up the ladder to the loft, and was soon cuddled down
beside Beppi in a bed of fresh straw. Though she persisted in her
determination that her grandmother sleep in state in the best bed, she
herself preferred a simple and softer resting place.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8
