CHAPTER I
The crazy little carriage belonging to Petrin il Gliglo rattled along by the river-side towards Viadana. Regina was seated, not particularly comfortably, between her brother and sister, who had come to meet her at Casalmaggiore station. She laughed and talked, but now and then fell silent, absent-minded, and sad. Then Toscana and Gigino, being slightly in awe of her, became also silent and embarrassed.
The night was hot; the sky opaque blue, furrowed by long grey clouds. The big red moon, just risen above the horizon, illumined the river and the motionless woods with a splendour suggestive of far-off fire. The immense silence was now and then broken by distant voices from across the Po; a sharp damp odour of grass flooded the air, waking in Regina a train of melancholy associations.
Now she had arrived, now she was in the place of her nostalgia, in the dreamed-of harbour of refuge, it was strange that her soul was still lost to her. Just as at one time she had seemed to herself to have taken only her outward person to Rome, leaving her soul like a wandering firefly on the banks of the Po, so now it was only her suffering and tired body which she had brought back to the river-side. Her soul had escaped—flown back to Rome. What was Antonio doing at this hour? Was he very miserable? Was he conscious of his wife's soul pressing him tighter than ever her arms had pressed him? Had he written to her? Antonio! Antonio! Burning tears filled her eyes, and she suddenly fell silent, her thoughts wandering and lost in a sorrowful far-away.
She had already repented her letter, or at least of having written it so soon. She could have sent it quite well from here! He would have felt it less—so she told herself, trying to disguise her remorse.
"And the Master? And Gabri and Gabrie?" she asked aloud, as they passed Fossa Caprara, whose little white church, flushed by the moon, stood up clearly against the blackness of the meadow-side plane-trees. At the other side of the road was a row of silver willows, and between them the river glistened like antique, lightly oxidised glass. The whole scene suggested a picture by Baratta.
Toscana and Gigi both broke into stifled laughter.
"What's the matter?" queried Regina.