"Well, it was this way," said the man. "Our government spent a great deal of money building the fine road over which you drove to-day. The road had to be cut into the side of the mountain nearly the whole distance along this rocky shore. A broad stone wall was built on the side next to the water, so that carriages would not roll off. But there are places between here and Sorrento where the mountain is so steep the road could not be built on the outside of it. It had to be cut through the inside of the mountain. One of those places is just below this old monastery. You will drive through the tunnel in the morning when you start on your journey again.
"Well," continued the little man excitedly, "probably so much cutting away of the rock weakened a part of the mountain on which the monastery was built. One day, when the sun was shining as lovely as it is now, we heard a great ripping and splitting noise. It seemed like an earthquake. But no, it was not an earthquake! It was a piece of the mountain falling into the water below, carrying a small end of the monastery with it. Oh, it was terrible! I can never, never forget it!"
"I'm not sure that I want to drive through those dark tunnels"
"I'm sure I never could forget it, either," said Molly, who was almost crying.
"And I'm not sure that I want to drive through those dark tunnels to-morrow," said May.
"Well, let us explore the old monastery now," said their father. "Then we will have our supper. Perhaps we shall find a few monks still living here in some quiet corner."
Before they went to bed that night the Sunbonnet Babies stood a long time at their open window. A full moon hung high in the sky, making the silvery blue water of the gulf shimmer like a fairy sea. The little whitewashed houses of the village clung to the side of the dark mountain as if they feared some evil fairy might push them down into the water.
Suddenly out of the evening silence came the sound of music. Far below their window the Sunbonnet Babies could see a young singer with his mandolin. His clear, high voice gave the lovely Italian song a strange beauty on the evening air.
"Is it fairyland, or is it heaven?" Molly whispered.