Lucia Rudini | Page 2

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, Se?orina," 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, Se?orina, 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, Se?or," 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