A big gray car, very like the one that had come to Cellino, drove up before the door of the Riccardi villa two days later.
The Captain, once his mind was made up, did not waste any time in carrying out his plans. He was eager to rejoin his comrades in the north, but when the time came to leave he was very sorry to say good-by to Lucia. She had found a warm and secure spot in his big heart, and he knew he would miss her gay chatter and the laughing expression of her eyes.
All the household were on the steps to say good-by, even Nana had been prevailed upon to leave her seat in the garden by the well, and her lace bobbins, long enough to see him off.
Beppi danced about excitedly. "Oh, please hurry up and end the old war," he cried impatiently, "and come back, we will be so lonely without you. I promise to be very, very good."
"That's right, and when I come home I shall bring you all the souvenirs I promised; an Austrian helmet and a piece of shell," the Captain replied.
"And your sword, don't forget that," Beppi reminded him.
"Oh no, of course I won't forget that," the Captain swung Beppi high in the air above his head and kissed him, then he turned to Lucia.
"I will be good too," she promised, laughing.
"Of course you will, but you must be happy too, that is the most important of all," the Captain said seriously. "Be sure and pick all the flowers in the garden and stay out in the sunshine all day."
"And may I take the flowers to the hospital?" Lucia asked, "we have so many in the house, and the sick soldiers would love them so."
"Yes, do what you like with them," the Captain replied, "but be careful, don't do anything dangerous, you are such a spunky little fire-brand, that I can't help worrying."
"Oh, but you mustn't, I will be so very careful. Besides there is nothing to do down here, it is not like Cellino."
"Well, you can't always be sure," the Captain said, his eyes twinkling, "if there was any danger you'd be sure to be in the heart of it."
"No, I will close my eyes tight," Lucia promised, "and walk in the other direction, that is, unless it was something very, very important."
"I thought so. Well, I guess you'll be safe here, safer than you've ever been before, anyway," the Captain said, "and now good-by."
He kissed her low, broad forehead, very gently.
"Good-by, fairy godfather, come back soon." Lucia tried not to let her voice tremble.
The Captain got into the car hurriedly. He waved to the group on the steps until he was out of sight.
Lucia went back into the house, but the spacious rooms and high ceilings only added to her unhappiness. She almost longed for the comfort of the tiny old cottage and the familiar sight of the green bed.
She wandered about listlessly; she was quite alone. Nana had gone back to her lace making, and Beppi was in the garden. The old man and his wife—the Captain's faithful servants—were in the kitchen.
In the library Lucia stopped before the rows of books and tried to read their titles. But she gave it up and looked at the pictures, that amused her for a little while, for she thought they were beautiful, but she did not understand them. She could not give anything her undivided attention for her thoughts were on the way with the Captain, and she was fighting against the unhappiness that threatened to overpower her.
"Surely he will come back," she said, to a copy of Andrea del Sarto's St. John that hung above the mantel. "This cruel war has taken my real father; it cannot take my godfather too." She gave herself a little shake, "It is that I am lonely that I think such sad thoughts, I will go out to the garden and pick flowers for the soldiers."
Accordingly she found her basket and scissors and spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden. When her basket was piled high she put on her hat very carefully, regarding it from every angle of the Florentin mirror. It was the first hat she had ever owned and she was very proud of it.
When it was tilted to her satisfaction she took up the basket and went out by the garden gate.
The hospital was a little over a mile away. Lucia had visited it with Captain Riccardi. It had formerly been a private villa and its terraced gardens went down to the water's edge.
Lucia knew the way and she loitered along, enjoying the newness of the scenes about her. Everything and everybody were so different, the fishermen with their bright sashes and Roman striped stocking caps, the old women and the young girls in their bright dresses, with great gold loops hanging from their ears. Even the sound of their voices was different as they called out greetings to one another.
Lucia decided that the very first thing she would do when the Captain came home would be to ask him for a pair of gold earrings.
So occupied was she with her thoughts that she reached the gate to the hospital before she realized it. She lifted the heavy knocker; an old man opened the door.
"This is not visiting day, little one," he said, as he looked down at Lucia.
"Oh, I am not visiting," she replied, "I brought these few flowers for the sick soldiers; will you take them?"
"Indeed I will." The old man held out his hand. "Do you want the basket back again?"
"Oh, no, there's no hurry for that, I will get it the next time I come," Lucia replied. "I mean to bring flowers every day or two for the soldiers."
"That is very kind of you," the old man smiled, "I'll take these right up."
Lucia nodded and turned to go back along the road. The sun was setting over the water, and below the bay beckoned invitingly. She looked and decided to go home that way.
She took a path that led to the water's edge. It was steep, for that part of the coast rose high above the water. She was tired when she reached the bottom and sat down to rest on the low stone wall.
The soft lapping of the water made her drowsy, and she slipped to the sand, leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.
There was not a sound but the soothing voice of nature, the ripple of the water, the sighing of the wind and the occasional cry of a sea bird.
All the sounds together seemed to rock Lucia in a sort of lullaby, and it was not many minutes before she was asleep.
When she awoke it was quite dark and she was conscious of a difference in the voice of the water. A heavy regular splash, splash, grew nearer and nearer as she listened. If she had been accustomed to living near the water she would have recognized it as the rhythmic stroke of oars, but she did not, and it was not until a shape loomed up in the dusk a little farther down the beach that she realized it was a boat.
She got up and walked towards it. If it was a fisherman's boat she wanted to see it, even if it meant being late to supper.
But it was not a fisherman's boat, it was a light, high-sided row boat and the man in it stood up and pushed forward on his stout oars.
He made a landing on the sand before Lucia reached him, and he jumped out hurriedly.
Whatever his business was it occupied all his thoughts, for he did not look to right or left but ran straight to the wall. Another figure came out of the shadows to meet him. They spoke in whispers, but Lucia was near enough to hear what they said.
She listened out of curiosity for it struck her as being rather strange that a man dressed in beautiful dark clothes, with a hat such as she had seen the men in Rome wear, should be out on the beach whispering in the shadow of the wall to a boatman.
When she had listened she was even more surprised.
"It's all right, I've fixed it, you can get aboard her at midnight." The boatman's voice was husky and very mysterious.
"Be sure and be here on time," the man replied, "this spot is safe, wait until the guard has passed and then land. If there is any danger, whistle."
The boatman nodded. "It's a risky business," he objected.
"You will be well paid for it," the man answered sharply. "Now go."
Lucia watched him disappear into the dusk and waited until the boatman had rowed out of sight. Then she straightened her hat and started for home, thinking very hard as she hurried along.
When Lucia reached the road above she ran as fast as she could. She had been so startled at what she had heard that her thoughts were confused. But as she hurried along her mind cleared.
"Perhaps they are all right, and the man is just going for a row," she said to herself. But the memory of the boatman's words returned to her.
"It's a risky business."
She did her best to attach no importance to it, but back in her brain was the firm conviction that the man with the hat was one of the Austrians that Roderigo had spoken of. "An Italian citizen on the face of things, but in their hearts—" Lucia instinctively mimicked Roderigo's gesture. She knew too, that argue though she might, she would interfere.
When she reached the garden she heard Beppi crying and saw a light in his window above. Beppi did not cry very often and by the sound she thought he was in pain.
She hurried into the house and ran upstairs. Nana met her at the door of Beppi's room; she was wringing her hands.
"So you are back," she cried, "well, praise the Saints for that, I thought I should lose you both on the same day."
"'Lose us,' what are you talking about?" Lucia demanded, pushing past her to the bed.
"Beppino mio, what has happened?" she asked, though there was little need to question for a deep cut in Beppi's cheek, from which the blood spurted freely, was answer enough.
"My face, Lucia, it hurts me so, make it stop bleeding," Beppi pleaded, "I fell on a big rock in the garden."
"Caro mio, how long ago?" Lucia asked excitedly, "here quick, Nana, get me some hot water, I will wash it as I saw Sister Veronica wash the soldiers. There, there, darling, it will soon be better."
With trembling fingers Nana and the old servant, Amelie, brought a basin and a towel, and Lucia bathed the wound. It was a deep cut and poor Beppi winced as the water touched it.
After a little the blood stopped and Lucia bound up his head in soft white cloths.
"Stay by me," Beppi begged, "don't go way downstairs, I am afraid."
"Poor angel," Amelie cried, "he won't be left alone; old Amelie will bring up the little sister's dinner and she can eat by his bedside," and she hurried off, crooning to herself as she went to the kitchen below.
Nana, now that she knew that Beppi was not going to die, started scolding him for not looking where he was going, but Lucia sent her downstairs.
"He is too tired to listen to-night, Nana, and anyway he will be careful. Do go away and rest a little, you must be tired."
When Nana had left, Lucia returned to the bed and sat down. She did not have any idea what time it was, and she knew that it would be impossible to leave Beppi until he was quiet. She hardly touched the tempting tray that Amelie brought her, and her voice trembled as she asked what time it was.
"Ten minutes after seven," Amelie told her after she had carefully consulted the big hall clock.
"Oh!" Lucia was surprised and relieved. She thought she must have slept for hours, but now she realized that in reality she had only dozed for a few minutes.
She took Beppi's hand and set about putting him to sleep. It was a difficult task. She told him story after story, but at the end of each his eyes were bright and his demand for another one as insistent as ever.
Lucia kept time by the chimes of the clock, and at ten she turned out the light.
"I am coming to bed beside you," she explained as Beppi protested, "I think the light will hurt your head." She took off her dress and slipped on her nightgown. Beppi snuggled contentedly into her arm, and she went on with her stories.
"Sing to me," he asked at last, sleepily, "your song," and Lucia began very softly to sing.
"O'er sea the silver star brightly is glowing,Rocked now the billows are.Soft winds are blowing,Come to my bark with me.Come sail across the sea.Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia."
Beppi's even breathing rewarded her efforts. She slipped her arm from under his head and stole softly out of the room just as the clock chimed eleven. She put on her dress hurriedly.
The house was very still as she crept downstairs and out into the garden. The stars were out and it was an easy matter to find her way. She ran until she reached the path that led to the shore, then she moved very cautiously. She hoped to reach the guard, tell him what she had heard, and then go home, but when she reached the beach she realized that she was too late.
There was no guard in sight, but her ears detected the splash of oars, and she knew that the boatman was coming. She crouched down beside the wall and waited. She watched him pull his boat up on shore and then walk swiftly off in the opposite direction from her.
She did not know what to do, and she was frightened—badly frightened. The broad shining water on one side and the hill on the other seemed to hem her in, and she felt lost. It was not like the mountains of Cellino, where she knew every path.
She crouched down by the wall and waited. Another figure joined the boatman, and they stood still, a little farther up the beach. Lucia knew it was the man she had seen that afternoon, and she knew too that in a very few seconds they would turn around and come back to the boat.
With a courage born of fear she jumped up and before she quite realized what she was doing she was tugging at the boat.
It was not very high up on the beach for the boatman had left it so that it would be easily shoved off. Fortunately the tide was going out. Lucia's arms were strong and she pushed with a will. The boat found the water and drifted silently away.
Her feet were wet, but she did not realize it. She crept back to the beach and flattened herself against the wall. The men returned. They too kept in the shadow of the wall. It was not until they were almost brushing against Lucia that the boatman noticed that his boat was gone.
"The Saints preserve us!" he exclaimed. "It has been spirited away. I knew I should be punished for doing such a black deed."
"Spirits, nonsense!" the man spoke angrily. "It is your own stupid carelessness, you did not pull it up on shore far enough. You rattlebrain idiot, I've a good mind to kill you for this. See, there is your boat out there—empty—go and get it. Do you hear?"
"But how?" the boatman wrung his hands desperately. "I do not know how to swim. I will die. Santa Lucia, Saint of sailormen, spare me," he screamed as the man lifted his heavy cane to strike him.
"Don't you dare strike that man!" Lucia exclaimed, "he did pull his boat up on shore, but I pushed it off. I heard you this afternoon, and I knew you wanted to go away to that big ship out there, and perhaps sail to Austria. I know what you are, you two-faced man. You speak, you laugh, you scold in Italian, and all the time your black heart is Austrian."
"You shall not go away from here. I, Lucia Rudini, tell you, you shall not!"
"Santa Lucia! A miracle!" The boatman trembled with fear, but the man was not so superstitious. He caught Lucia's arm and shook her roughly.
"You did it, you little fiend, well, you shall get what you deserve for your meddling." He motioned to the frightened boatman. "Get me a rope, I'll make a gag of my handkerchief; hurry man, if you are found you will be shot."
"But I dare not, I dare not, she is the spirit of Santa Lucia. She came when I called. The Saints have mercy!"
With a growl of disgust the man turned from him and caught both of Lucia's wrists in his firm clasp. Then he lifted his cane.
"She must not tell until we are well away," he said, and brought the cane down heavily. It was his intention to stun Lucia, but he had miscalculated when he expected her to stand still and receive the blow.
She dodged to the right and began kicking and struggling. The boatman wrung his hands and screamed for help.
It was not many minutes before the guard, attracted by the noise, came running towards them. The man's back was towards him, but Lucia saw him and stopped struggling.
The man raised his cane again but this time he stopped, because the muzzle of a gun was pressing him between the shoulder blades.
Lucia turned to the guard and explained hurriedly. In the starlight she could see that he had a long scar across his face, and she felt very secure.
"I know your nephew, Roderigo," she ended, "he helped me blow up the bridge in Cellino."
The soldier nodded.
"I know about that, Señorina," he said respectfully, "and the rest of your fine deeds. You were born for the work it seems. Move an inch and off comes your head," he turned furiously on the man who had tried to edge away. Then he continued in the soft, courteous tones he had been using. "I hope some day you will do me the honor of telling me of the attack yourself," he said. "It is sometimes very lonely here while I am on guard."
His gentle tone, and above all the flattering respect he showed, gave Lucia back her courage.
"Of course I will come," she said, "just as soon as my little brother is better. He fell and cut his head, and, and—well, I guess I'd better be going back, he may awaken and be frightened. Good night."
"Good night, Señorina," the soldier replied, "I am proud to have seen you."
"Now then,—" his voice became harsh again as he turned to his prisoners, "go along, one wink of your eyelid in the wrong direction and I will shoot."
He marched them off quickly, and Lucia, because the affair seemed finished, started for home.
"Tell me a story," Beppi demanded when she was lying beside him once more, "I'm all awake again and my face hurts."
"What shall it be about?" Lucia asked, stroking his hair. She was still trembling from the reaction of her adventure, and Beppi's warm little body snuggled close in her arms was comforting.
"Go on with the story about the soldier and the bad girl that teased him, and the good girl that was the fairy princess."
"Very well, but shut your eyes. Let me see," Lucia began, "the soldier went off to the war, and when he came back he was wounded and the good girl took care of him, and they decided to be married and live happily ever after. And the bad girl when she saw the poor soldier wounded was sorry she had teased him, and she never did it again. And because she was good all kinds of nice things happened to her. She found her fairy godfather, and he had a magic carpet, and first thing you know she was in the middle of a beautiful garden with her little—"
"Oh, bother, I knew that wasn't a real story," Beppi protested. "It's just about Roderigo and Maria and the Captain and you. And oh, Lucia, how silly you are, you called yourself the bad girl when really you're the goodest in the whole world."
"Am I, Beppino mio?" Lucia laughed. "I don't think so."
"Well, I say you are," Beppi replied, drowsily, "and the Captain thinks so too, so—" He dropped off to sleep.
"I wonder if he would say so if he had seen me to-night," Lucia mused, "I had to do it, it was the only way, but oh, dear, I do hope I don't ever hear any more wicked men again." She yawned and looked towards the window. The first gray light of dawn streaked the sky.
"I guess I'll stay in the garden with Beppi and Nana and Garibaldi, and wait for my fairy god-father's return," she said as she closed her eyes.
As if to echo her words a faint "naa," came up from the stable yard below. Garibaldi was agreeing with her mistress.