PORTA SAN ANGELO.
Some little way outside is the convent of San Francesco, and just within the gate, from which, up a side path, there is another delightful view, we came to the round church of San Angelo, or San Michele. This is very ancient, and is said to have been formerly a pagan temple dedicated to Vesta. The lower part is round, the upper eight-sided, but the interior is circular. The upper portion is supported by a circle of sixteen dark-grey columns; anciently there were three circles of these columns. All but one of the two outer circles have been taken away to other parts of Perugia: we had already seen some in San Pietro, and there are two in one of the palaces on the market-place; one still remains in the second circle at San Angelo. This interior is very interesting. In it is a well-preserved sacrificial altar, and the woman who guided us explained with much unction how the victims were formerly sacrificed. She also showed us some horrible instruments of torture, and another altar, said to be Roman. There is a curious bas-relief on the wall near the sacristy. We had already seen this church on a festa, when, the altar blazing with candles, the gaily-dressed people kneeling in front of it and between the surrounding circle of pillars, had a very picturesque effect,—marred, it is true, by the presence of sundry dogs among the worshippers, and the extremely cracked and untuneful sounds proceeding from the music gallery. Our brown-faced, withered guide was full of talk; when we got into the sacristy, she confided to me she had been foolish enough to marry late in life; then, her man had managed so badly that he died and left her to take care of herself. "Ah, yes," she said, "and there is more than myself, there is a boy, and he is nine years old; he eats well,—the Signora knows how a boy eats at nine? Dio! he is voracious; then he must be taught, and school costs money, much money! and yet, Dio! what a thing it is to have schooling! I can neither read nor write, and can earn but little; I wish my son to do better than I, and yet, Signora, I am not sure if it is wise." Her keen black eyes twinkled at me.
I suggested that she must be right in giving her son some schooling. She sighed heavily, and darted another keen glance at me out of her hungry dark eyes.
"Yes, the Signora is right; but if I spend money in teaching my son I can have none for myself. Dio! what can become of me when these"—she stretched out her brown, capable-looking hands—"can no longer work for me? Holy Virgin! I know not." She gave another heavy sigh, and again she looked wistfully at me.
I said that if she did her duty by her son he would be sure to take care of her hereafter, but at this her face showed me that we took different views. She shook her head.
"It ought to be so, Signora," she said, "but it is not; Dio, I have lived in the world many years, and I have not found that men are what they ought to be. No! not one.—Pardon me, Signore," she looked deprecatingly towards my companion. "The Signora has as much money as she wants, and she does not hear the truth; she sees the best side of people, they show the worst to us poor ones."
Poor woman! I hastened to assure her that I was not in the happy state she fancied. I felt ashamed at giving her my modest fee, and said I wished it could have been larger; but evidently she was not greedy, she clasped both her brown hands round my arm and squeezed it, while she poured forth effusive thanks. Then she went back to the heap of stones near the entrance of the cave where I had found her, sitting like a hungry spider in wait for an inquiring fly, in the shape of a traveller.
CHAPTER X
THE WAY TO ASSISI
