As they were somewhat familiar with monkeys, having seen some which the sailors had brought home, together with parrots, from their long cruises, they were teasing Zavali in a thousand different ways, handing her large greenish almonds, which the monkey would open, gluttonously devouring the sweet fresh meat.
After much urging and persistent shouting, Turlendana succeeded in conquering the stubbornness of the camel, and that enormous architecture of bones and skin rose staggering to his feet in the midst of the instigating crowd.
From all directions soldiers and sailors flocked over the boat bridge to witness the spectacle. Far behind the mountain of Gran Sasso the setting sun irradiated the spring sky with a vivid rosy light, and from the damp earth, the water of the river, the seas, and the ponds, the moisture had arisen. A rosy glow tinted the houses, the sails, the masts, the plants, and the whole landscape, and the figures of the people, acquiring a sort of transparency, grew obscure, the lines of their contour wavering in the fading light.
Under the weight of the caravan the bridge creaked on its tar-smeared boats like a very large floating lighter. Turlendana, halting in the middle of the bridge, brought the camel also to a stop; stretching high above the heads of the crowd, it stood breathing against the wind, slowly moving its head like a fictitious serpent covered with hair.
The name of the beast had spread among the curious people, and all of them, from an innate love of sensation, and filled with the exuberance of spirits inspired by the sweetness of the sunset and the season of the year, cried out gleefully:
“Barbara! Barbara!” At the sound of this applauding cry and the well-meant clamour of the crowd, Turlendana, who was leaning against the chest of his camel, felt a kindly emotion of satisfaction spring up in his heart.
The she-ass suddenly began to bray with such high and discordant variety of notes, and with such sighing passion that a spontaneous burst of merriment ran through the crowd.
The fresh, happy laughter spread from one end of the bridge to the other like the roar of water falling over the stones of a cataract.
Then Turlendana, unknown to any of the crowd, began to make his way through the throng. When he was outside the gates of the city, where the women carrying reed baskets were selling fresh fish, Binchi-Banche, a little man with a yellow face, drawn up like a juiceless lemon, pushed to the front, and as was his custom with all strangers who happened to come to the place, offered his services in finding a lodging.
Pointing to Barbara, he asked first: