Vinzi saw it and in his terror he could not utter a syllable. He thought that the gloomy gray house on the stony slope was his cousin’s place.
“Yes, I see it,” he finally said in a very low voice.
“We’ll stop there to get something to eat,” said the young man. “After that comes the last stretch we have to climb. From then on it goes down hill and you’ll soon be there. I have to go all the way down to the next valley, so we won’t have much time to rest.”
Vinzi was perfectly indifferent. He felt little enough inclination to eat and was constantly picturing to himself his arrival at the house of his unknown cousins. Maybe it looked as gloomy as the gray house of stone. His inner agitation constantly increased while they had a short lunch and afterwards when they silently took to the road again. They stood on the summit now and the path began to slope down hill.
“What is that?” asked Vinzi glancing timidly at a large building which lay at the left of the road. Despite the fact that it seemed to shelter many people, everything about it lay in soundless peace and not a human being could be seen.
“That’s nothing bad, you don’t need to be frightened,” said the young fellow. “On the contrary, it is a nice place. Good monks live there, who take in people that travel by in winter, half frozen. They have a warm fire for you and a drop of something warm to strengthen you.”
“What is that over there?” asked Vinzi again after a little while, when an old solitary tower showed itself to the right of the road.
“Do you think you have to live there? Don’t make such eyes!” said the young man. “I shouldn’t like to live there myself. It is as quiet here as if it were at the end of the world. But they do grow old here. Ten years ago I saw a man sitting there with his hair and beard as white as the snow on that peak. A year ago I saw him, too, and sure enough, there he is again. Quick now, boy, you don’t have far to go.”
But the end was not reached before half an hour’s vigorous tramp was behind them. Pointing down hill the workman said, “Look at that white building down there! That’s a little chapel. A few houses are about it and they call the hamlet ‘Bychapel.’ The village is a bit further down, but your uncle lives near the chapel. I’ll show you the house and then I’ll leave you. You can’t possibly miss your way.”
Vinzi stared breathlessly ahead of him, and without once looking back, rushed forward. They had reached the chapel, which was a little way from the road on a hillock. The young man stopped.