Martha Trent - Lucia Rudini
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Martha Trent >> Lucia Rudini
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Lucia had never seen a big gun in her life, and she did not know that
one was hidden securely in the cover of the wall near the ruins of the
church, for so quietly had the great monster arrived, and so stealthily
had the soldiers worked, that its sudden appearance seemed almost a
miracle.
Lucia put it down as one, and offered her prayer of thankfulness from
the middle of the muddy road. Then the work at hand took the place of
her surprise, and she ran back to her wounded soldier and roused him
gently. He opened his eyes; they were bright with fever, and he tossed
restlessly.
Lucia tried to move him, but could not. He was very big, and she could
not pull him as she had the slender Roderigo.
As she stopped to consider, the walls of Cellino suddenly seemed to let
loose a fury of smoke and flame. Nothing that had happened during the
day before equalled it. The big guns boomed and the smaller ones sent
out sharp, cracking noises that were even more terrifying.
Poor Lucia dropped to her face again, and Garibaldi cowered beside her.
Nothing seemed to happen. The shells did not fall near them as she had
expected, and after her first fright had passed, she got to her feet
again.
Tugging at the soldier was useless, and an idea was forming in her
mind. She ran as fast as she could up the hill to the cottage, calling
Garibaldi to follow.
At the shed she stopped and looked at the door. It was light, and she
soon tore it away from its support. Then she went into the cottage and
came back with a rope. She made a loop and put it over the goat's
head. Then with two long pieces she contrived a harness and hitched
the door to it. One end dragged on the ground, and the other was about
a foot above it. The rope was crossed on the goat's back and tied
firmly to the long ends of the door that did duty as shafts. Garibaldi
was too disheartened to protest, and Lucia had little trouble in
leading her down the hill.
The soldier was delirious when she reached him, but he was so weak that
it was an easy matter to roll him on to the improvised stretcher.
Lucia took hold of one shaft, and with Garibaldi pulling too, they
started off.
It was a long and weary climb, but at last they reached the cottage.
The terrible jolting had been agony for the soldier. He regained
consciousness on the way, and from time to time a groan escaped him.
But when he was in the house he did his best to smile, and crawled onto
the mattress that Lucia had pulled to the floor.
She made haste to take off his knapsack, and under his direction she
dressed the ugly wound in his thigh. Her fingers, only used to rough
work, moved clumsily, but she managed to make him a little more
comfortable. He smiled up at her bravely.
"Poor little one, you are tired. Go and eat," he whispered. And
Lucia, after she saw his head sink back on the pillow, found a stale
loaf of black bread and began to munch it slowly.
The soldier pointed to his knapsack and told her to eat whatever she
found in it.
"There should be some of my emergency rations left," he said faintly.
Lucia found some dried beef and offered it to him, but he shook his
head and asked for a drink of water. She gave it to him, but his eyes
closed and his head fell back as he drank. She ate all the beef and a
cake of chocolate that she found; and then went to the door to look out.
Cellino was enveloped in smoke and she could not see the gate. The
guns were barking, and little spurts of white smoke seemed to punctuate
each separate fire. Away to the east the enemy's guns were still
booming.
Lucia realized that a hard battle was under way, and that it would be
useless to try to get help until there was a lull. She returned to the
room and looked down at the soldier. He was moaning softly, and his
eyes looked up at her beseechingly.
CHAPTER XI
THE AMERICAN
"Are you suffering very much?" she asked softly.
The man nodded, his eyes closed, and a queer pallor came over his face.
Lucia was suddenly terrified. She felt very helpless in this battle
with death, but her determination never left her.
She ran to the door. Poor Garibaldi was still standing hitched to the
stretcher. Lucia went to her and led her back to the door of the
cottage. She looked half-fearfully, half-angrily at the town above her.
"He shall not die!" she said between her teeth, and went back into the
house.
The transfer from the bed to the stretcher was very difficult to
manage, for the poor soldier was beyond helping himself. But Lucia
succeeded without hurting him too much, and once more the strange trio
started out on their climb.
They were in no great danger, for only an occasional shell burst near
them. The fighting was going on below the east wall. Lucia and
Garibaldi toiled up the hill, each one using every bit of their
strength.
[Illustration: "Lucia and Garibaldi toiled up the hill, each one using
every bit of their strength."]
The soldier was limp and lifeless, his head rolled with every bump. He
looked like one dead, but Lucia refused even to consider such a
possibility. She urged Garibaldi on and tugged with determined
persistence.
They were just below the wall when Lucia stopped to rest. The little
goat was staggering from the exertion, and she was out of breath. She
looked at the gate, it was only a little way off, but it seemed miles,
and she wondered if she could go on.
She looked up at the wall. A man dressed in a uniform unlike the
Italian soldiers was looking down at her. Lucia called to him just as
he jumped to the ground. She held her breath expecting to see him
hurt, but he landed on his feet and ran to her.
"For the love of Pete, what have you got there?" he asked in a language
that Lucia did not understand.
She looked up at him bewildered.
"I do not understand what you say, but the soldier is very sick.
Please help me carry him to the convent," she said hurriedly.
"Hum, well you may be right," the big man laughed, "but I guess what
you want is help."
He leaned over the wounded Italian.
"Pretty far gone, but there's hope. Steady now, I've got you." He
lifted the man gently in his arms and carried him on his back.
Lucia watched him with admiration shining in her eyes. She followed
with the goat through the gate.
Once in the town she could hardly believe her eyes. Soldiers seemed to
be everywhere, shouting and calling from one to the other. She saw the
little guns that were making all the sharp, clicking noises, and she
knew that just below, and on the other side of the river, the Austrians
were fighting desperately.
They passed many wounded as they hurried along, and to each one the big
man would call out cheerily. Lucia wished she could understand what he
said, or even what language he spoke. It was not German, of course,
and she did not think it was French.
"Perhaps he was a tourist?" she asked him shyly, but he shook his head.
"I don't get you, I'm sorry. I'm an American, you see."
"Oh, Americano!" Lucia clapped her hands delightedly. "I am glad, I
thought so, American is the name of the tourists, just as I guessed,"
she replied. "I have heard of Americans and I have seen some in the
summer, but they were not like you."
She looked up in his face and smiled.
The American did not understand a word of her Italian, but he saw the
smile, and answered it with a good-natured grin.
"You're a funny kid," he said. "I wish I could find out what you are
talking about, and where you got ahold of that queer rig and the goat."
They had reached the other gate by now, and they hurried through it and
to the convent.
Several of the sisters had returned, and there were doctors and nurses
all busy in the long room where, the night before, Lucia had left
Roderigo and Sister Francesca.
The American laid the soldier down on one of the beds, and hurried to
one of the doctors.
"Saw this youngster dragging this man on a sort of stretcher hitched to
a goat," he said. "He's pretty bad. Better look at him."
The doctor nodded. Lucia stood beside her soldier and waited. She was
almost afraid of what the doctor would say. He leaned over him and
began taking off his muddy uniform, while the American helped. When he
had examined the wound, he hurried over to a table and came back with a
queer looking instrument. To Lucia it looked like a small bottle
attached to a very long needle.
"Don't, don't, you are cruel!" she protested, as he pushed it slowly
into the soldier. She put out her hand angrily, but the American
pulled her back.
"It's all right," he said soothingly. "It's to make him well."
Lucia shook her head, and the doctor turned to her. He spoke excellent
Italian.
"It is to save his life, child, and it doesn't hurt him, I promise you.
Now tell me, where did you find him?"
Lucia explained hurriedly. The story, as it came from her excited
lips, sounded like some wild, distorted dream. The doctor called to
Sister Francesca.
"Is this child telling me the truth?" he asked wonderingly.
"As far as I know," she said; "and that boy in the third cot blew up
the bridge. I know she went out to find the wounded."
The doctor did not reply at once. He was hunting for the soldier's
identification tag. When he found it, he read it and whistled.
"Captain Riccardi!" he exclaimed. "By Jove, we can't let him die."
It could not be said that the doctor redoubled his efforts, for he was
working his best then, but he added perhaps a little more interest to
his work.
The American helped him, and Lucia, at a word from Sister Francesca,
hurried to her and helped her with what she was doing. It was not
until many hours later that she stopped working, for more wounded were
being brought in every few minutes by the other stretcher-bearers, and
there was much to do. But at last there was a lull, and Lucia ran
through the long corridor and down to the door.
She opened it a crack and looked out. Before her, stretched along the
banks of the river, were countless Austrian soldiers, staggering and
fighting in a wild attempt to run away from the guns in the wall that
mowed them down pitilessly. The officers tried to drive them on, but
the men were too terrified, they could not advance under such steady
fire. A little farther on, there was the beginning of a rude bridge.
The enemy had evidently tried to build it during the night, but had
been forced to abandon it after the Italians reached their new position.
As Lucia watched, the men seemed to form in some sort of order, and
retreat back into the hills. Their guns stopped suddenly, and only the
Italian fire continued.
It was a horrible scene, and in spite of the splendid knowledge that an
undisputed victory was theirs, Lucia turned away and closed the door
behind her. She ran up to the big door and out on the road.
There were signs of the battle all about her in the big shell holes in
the road, and in the ruins still smoking inside the walls, but there
was no such sight as she had just witnessed, and she took a deep breath
of the warm fresh air.
CHAPTER XII
A REUNION
She shaded her eyes and looked down the road.
Garibaldi, freed from her harness, was lying down in the sunshine, and
as Lucia watched her she saw a familiar figure running towards her.
She saw it stop and pat the goat. With a cry of joy she recognized
Maria, bedraggled and muddy, but without doubt Maria. She ran forward
to meet her.
"Maria, where have you come from?" she called as the older girl threw
herself into her out-stretched arms and began to cry.
"Oh, from miles and miles away! I have been running since late last
night," she sobbed.
"But what has happened? Beppi, Nana, are they safe?" Lucia demanded.
"Yes, yes, they are all safe with mother," Maria replied.
"Then why did you come back?" Lucia persisted.
"Oh, I could not bear it!" Maria tried to stifle her sobs. "All
yesterday, as we ran away from the guns, I kept thinking--back there,
there is work and I am running away. I knew that you were here, and I
thought you were killed. Nana was half crazy with fear and we could
get nothing out of her."
"But Beppi, he is safe, and aunt is taking care of him?" Lucia insisted.
"Oh, he is safe, of course, and so excited over his adventure, but he
was crying for you last night, and we had hard work to comfort him."
Maria paused, and Lucia looked into her eyes. There was a question
there and she knew that her cousin did not give voice to it. She put
her arm around her and led her back towards the convent.
"Come," she said, smiling with something of her old mischievousness.
"There is much to be done, and I will take you to Sister Francesca.
She will tell you where to begin."
Maria followed her.
Lucia went back to the ward and did not stop until she stood beside
Roderigo's bed. He was asleep, but his brows were drawn together in a
worried frown. Lucia put her finger on her lip and turned to her
cousin and pointed. Maria looked; a glad light came into her eyes, and
without a sound she fell on her knees beside the bed.
Lucia left her and went over to Sister Francesca. She was awfully
tired, and her arms were numb, but she did not dare stop for fear she
would not be able to begin again.
"What can I do?" she asked.
Sister Francesca pointed to two empty buckets. "Go out to the well and
fill those. We need more water badly," she said, without looking up.
Lucia picked up the pails and walked to the end of the room, through a
little side door and into a cloister. In the center of it was an old
well that she worked by turning an iron wheel.
Lucia drew the water and poured it into her pails, and started back
with them. It had been all her tired arm could do to lift the empty
ones, but now each step made sharp pains go up to her shoulders. She
staggered along with them, fighting hard against the dizziness in her
head, but when she was half-way down the ward everything began to swim
before her. She swayed, lost her balance, and would have fallen had
not a strong arm caught her. The pails fell to the floor, the water
splashing over the tops.
Through the singing in her ears she heard an angry voice.
"Poor youngster, whoever sent her out for water? Seems to me she's
earned a rest. Here, sister, help me, will you?"
Then Maria's soft voice came to her.
"Lucia dear, don't look like that!" she cried excitedly. "Here, senor,
put her on the bed, so."
She felt herself being lifted ever so gently, and then the soothing
comfort of a mattress and a pillow stole over her and she fell sound
asleep.
She did not wake up until late in the afternoon. The sun was setting
and the long ward was in deep shadow. She opened her eyes for a minute
and then closed them again. She was too blissfully comfortable to make
any effort.
She was conscious first of all of a strange quiet. The guns seemed to
have very nearly stopped, there was only a faint rumble in the
distance, and an occasional sputter from the guns near by.
The enemy had retreated beyond, far into the hills, and for the time
being Cellino was safe. Lucia guessed as much and smiled to herself.
People tiptoed about the room near her, and she could hear their voices
indistinctly. She did not try to hear what they said, she was too
tired to think. She snuggled closer in the soft pillows and sighed
contentedly, but before long a voice near her separated itself from the
rest, and she heard:
"We will go to my beautiful Napoli, you and I, and I will show you the
water, blue as the sky, and we will be very happy, and by and by you
will forget this terrible war, as a baby forgets a bad dream."
Lucia opened one eye and moved her head so that she could see the
speaker. He was Roderigo, of course, and he was holding Maria's hand
and talking very earnestly.
Lucia eavesdropped shamelessly. She was curious to hear what her
cousin would say.
"But surely you will not fight again!" Maria's voice was pleading.
"You are so sick, they will not send you back again."
"But I must go back, my wound is not a bad one and I will be well in no
time, and I must go back. Think how foolish it would be, if I was to
say, 'Oh, yes, I fought for two days in the great war.' You would be
ashamed of me, and that little cousin of yours, Lucia, she would think
me a fine soldier."
Lucia laughed aloud and the voices stopped.
Maria's cheeks flushed and she jumped up.
"Are you awake, dear?" she asked hurriedly, "then I will go and tell
Sister Francesca and the Doctor."
She hurried off. Lucia sat up and looked at Roderigo. She was a sorry
sight in her muddy clothes, and her hair fell about her shoulders.
"You are a fine soldier, Roderigo Vicello," she said impulsively, "and
I would say so if you had only fought for one day, for I know how brave
you are. But you are right to want to go back."
"Yes, I am right," Roderigo replied. He stretched out his hand and
Lucia slipped hers into it.
"We have been comrades, you and I," he said, "and we understand why."
Lucia nodded gravely. She felt suddenly very proud.
The Doctor came back a minute later with Maria.
"Well, are you rested enough to be moved?" he asked, smiling.
"Oh, yes I am quite all right," Lucia assured him.
"Well, I wouldn't brag too much," the Doctor laughed. "You'll find you
are pretty shaky. Sister Francesca has a little room fixed for you and
some clean clothes; how does that sound?"
Lucia smiled in reply, and the American came over at the Doctor's call.
"Think you can manage to carry the little lady, Lathrop?" he asked.
"Guess so."
Lucia felt the strong arms lift her, as if she weighed no more than a
feather. He carried her down the ward and up a flight of stairs.
Sister Francesca was waiting for them at the door of the little room.
It had been one of the sister's cells. With her help Lucia was soon in
a coarse white nightgown and tucked in between clean sheets.
The Doctor came in to see her a little later.
"How is my soldier of the pennies?" she asked, and then as she realized
he would not understand she added, "the one I brought up the hill."
"Oh, Captain Riccardi, he's still very ill, but he is going to pull
through all right."
Lucia smiled.
"Oh, I am glad," she said. "I was so afraid, he looked so queer."
"Well, don't worry any more," the Doctor replied, "and now what do you
want?"
Lucia sighed contentedly.
"Something to eat, if you please," she said shyly, "I am very hungry."
CHAPTER XIII
AN INTERRUPTED DREAM
A week passed, a week of lazy luxury between cool linen sheets for
Lucia, and she enjoyed her rest to its fullest extent. Every one in
the convent, which was now a hospital, and running smoothly with
capable American nurses, made a great fuss over her, and she had so
much care that sometimes she was just the least bit bored. When the
week was over, and she was feeling herself again, she grew restless and
clamored to get up. Even the sheets, and the delicious things she had
to eat, could not keep her contented. At last the Doctor said she
might go out for a few hours into the sunshine, and the whole hospital
hummed with the news.
Maria, in a white apron and cap, helped her dress, and went with her
down the stone steps and out into the convent garden.
The first thing that met her eye was Garibaldi, clean and lazy, lying
contentedly in the sun. She came over and seemed delighted to see her
mistress once more.
"But you are so clean, my pet!" Lucia exclaimed. "And your coat looks
as if it had been brushed," she added, wonderingly.
Maria laughed.
"It was. The big American, Senor Lathrop, makes so much fuss over her,
you would think she was a fine horse."
"What about Senor Lathrop?" a laughing voice demanded. "Oh, drat this
language, I keep forgetting." He stopped and then said very slowly in
Italian: "Good morning, how are you this morning?"
"Oh, I am very well, and you," Lucia replied, "you have been very good
to take such care of Garibaldi."
"Garibaldi? I don't understand," Lathrop replied.
Lucia pointed to the goat and said slowly. "That is her name."
"Name! The goat's name Garibaldi!" Lathrop exclaimed, and added in
English, "Well I'll be darned!"
"Not just Garibaldi," Lucia corrected him. "Her name is 'The
Illustrious and Gentile Senora Guiseppe Garibaldi,' but we call her
Garibaldi for short."
Lathrop understood enough of her reply to catch the name. He threw
back his head and laughed uproariously.
"All that for a goat! No wonder she was a good sport with a name like
that to live up to!"
He stood for a long time looking at the poor, shaggy animal before him,
then he laughed again and went into the convent.
"He is a funny man," Lucia said wonderingly. "Why should he laugh
because of Garibaldi's name?"
"Oh, he meant no disrespect," Maria reasoned. "Americans all laugh at
everything. The nurses are the same, they are always laughing. If
anything goes wrong and I want to stamp my foot, they laugh."
Lucia was somewhat mollified. "What is the news?" she demanded, "I
have been up there in my little room for so long, no one would tell me
anything. Sister Francesca would smile and say, 'Everything is for the
best, dear child,' when I asked for news of the front, and I was
ashamed to ask again, but you tell me."
"Oh, there is nothing but good news," Maria replied. "We are gaining
everywhere. The night after the battle, some of our soldiers built a
bridge over the river and crossed, and when the Austrians rallied for a
counter-charge they were ready for them and took them by surprise."
Maria paused, and her eyes filled with tears. "And only think, Lucia,
if you had not destroyed the bridge and warned the Captain of the
beggar man, we might have been taken by surprise, and Cellino would be
an Austrian village. Oh, I tell you the ward rings with your praise.
The men talk of nothing else."
"Nonsense, I did not do it alone. How about your Roderigo? He is the
one who deserves the praise. But tell me, how is my soldier of the
pennies? I am never sure that the Doctor tells me truly how he is."
"Why do you call him 'your soldier of the pennies'?" Maria asked. "His
name is Captain Riccardi, and he is very brave. Every one knows about
him, and some of the boys say he is the bravest man in the Italian
army."
"Perhaps he is," Lucia laughed, "but he is my soldier of the pennies,
just the same, that's the name I love him by."
"But I don't understand," Maria protested, "did you know him before?"
"Yes and no," Lucia teased. "I did not know his name, or what he
looked like, but I knew there was a soldier of the pennies somewhere."
"But tell me," Maria begged. "I am so curious."
Lucia laughed. "Very well, it is a queer thing. Listen. Do you
remember how for a few days about a week before this battle, I only
brought two pails of milk to your stall in the morning?"
Maria nodded.
"Well, the rest of the milk went to Captain Riccardi, but I did not
know it. You see, one day Garibaldi ran away and went far up into the
hills. I think the guns frightened her, and of course I went after
her. I found her on a little plateau quite far up, and because I was
tired I sat down to rest, keeping tight hold of her, you may be sure.
I was dreaming and thinking, and oh, a long way off, when suddenly I
heard a voice above me. I looked up; my, but I was frightened, I can
tell you, but I could see no one. The voice said: 'Little goat herder,
will you give me a drink of milk?'"
Lucia stopped.
"Go on!" Maria exclaimed. "What did you do?"
"I am ashamed to say," Lucia replied, "I was so frightened that I ran
back down the mountain as if the evil spirit were after me, and I did
not stop until I was safe at home. Then I began to think. Of course,
at first I had thought only of an Austrian, but when I stopped to
think, I knew that Austrians don't speak such Italian--low and very
soft this was, as my mother used to speak, and your Roderigo. Well,
then of course, I wanted to die of shame; I had run away from one of
the soldiers. I thought about it all night, and I could not sleep.
Just before dawn I got up very softly and went down to the shed. I
filled two pails half-full and carried them up to the same place.
"I could not see or hear any one, but I left them, and that afternoon I
went back to see if it had been taken away. There were the empty
pails, and beside them a strip of paper with four pennies wrapped up
inside.
"After that, I took the milk up every day to the plateau, but I never
saw or heard the soldier again. Sometimes he would write me a little
note and say 'thank you,' to me, but always there was the money. So
that is why I called him my soldier of the pennies; do you see?"
"Oh, yes, how splendid!" Maria was delighted. "And to think it was
Captain Riccardi all the time. No wonder now that he talks sometimes
in his sleep of the little goat-herder and her flowered dress. He was
an observer, Roderigo told me. That is a very important thing to be,
and he was hidden high up in a tree. That is why you did not see him."
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