Lucia Rudini | Page 8

dome was in dark
shadow. Long rays of pale yellow light from the morning sun came
through the narrow windows and made queer patches on the marble
floor. In the dim recesses of the little chapels tiny candles flickered like
stars in the dark.
Lucia looked about her to make sure that she was alone, and then
walked quickly to one of the chapels and dropped four shining copper
pennies into the mite box that stood on a little shelf beside the altar.
She stayed only long enough to say a hasty little prayer, and then
hurried out again into the sunshine. The clouds of the night before and
the mist of the early morning had disappeared, and the market-place
was bathed in warm golden sunshine.
Lucia picked up her pails and hurried to her aunt's stall.
"Well, you are late," Maria said. "We thought you had stubbed your toe
and spilled all the milk."
"And only two half-full pails again," Señora Rudini grumbled. "But no
matter, we can get more from old Paolo. Have you heard the news?"
she asked abruptly.
"No," Lucia replied indifferently. "What is it?"
"A big gain by the enemy. They have taken thousands of our men, and
they say we may be ordered to leave Cellino at any minute."

"Think of it! They are as near as that!" Maria said excitedly. "Oh if we
must move, where can we go to? I am so frightened."
"Nonsense," Lucia spoke shortly. There was an angry gleam in her big
eyes and her cheeks flushed a dark red.
"Leave Cellino, indeed! The very idea! Since when must Italians make
way for Austrians, I'd like to know?"
"But if the enemy are advancing as they say," Maria protested
nervously, "we will either have to leave, or be shelled to death by those
dreadful guns."
"Or be taken prisoners, and a nice thing that would be," her mother
added. "No, if the order to evacuate comes we must go at once. There
will be no time to spare. Other towns have been captured, and there is
only that between us."
She pointed to the zigzag mountain peaks so short a distance beyond
the north gate. As if to give her words weight, a heavy thunder of guns
rumbled ominously.
Maria shuddered. "There, that is ever so much nearer. Oh, I am
frightened,--something dreadful is happening over there just out of
sight."
"Silly! those are our own guns. Ask any of our soldiers," Lucia said.
"Here comes your guard, the handsome Roderigo Vicello, maybe he
can tell us. Good morning to you!" she called gayly and beckoned the
soldier to come to them.
"I hope you are well this morning," Roderigo said respectfully, bowing
to Señora Rudini.
"Oh, we are well, but very frightened," Maria replied, trying hard to
imitate her cousin's gaiety.
"Maria thinks that the guns we heard just now are Austrian, and I have

been trying to tell her that they are Italian. Which of us is right? You
are a soldier and ought to know."
"Our guns, of course. They have a different sound," Roderigo explained
impressively.
He had never been any nearer to the front than he was at this moment,
but he spoke with the assurance of an old soldier, partly to quiet Maria's
fears, but mostly to still his own nervous forebodings. It would never
do to let the little black-eyed Lucia see that he was even a little afraid.
"There, what did I tell you!" Lucia was triumphant. "I knew, but of
course you would not believe me. Now perhaps you will tell her that
we will not have to run away at a minute's notice, too?"
She turned to Roderigo, but eager as he was to display his importance
he could not give the assurance she asked. The little knowledge that he
had, made him think that the evacuation was very likely to occur at any
day.
He covered his fears, however, by replying vaguely: "One can never be
sure. War is war, and perhaps it may be necessary, as well as safer, for
you to leave for the time being."
Lucia looked at him narrowly.
"What makes you say that?" she demanded. "Have you heard any of the
officers talking?"
"No, but this morning's news is very bad. We have our orders to be
ready to start at any moment."
"Oh!" Maria caught her breath sharply, and her eyes filled with tears as
she looked at Roderigo shyly.
He saw the tears in surprise, and a contented warmth settled around his
heart. He looked half expectantly at Lucia. Surely, if this calm, shy girl
of the north would shed a tear for him, she with the warm blood of the

south in her veins would weep. But Lucia's eyes were dry, and the