"I get you, but I'm blest if I can tell you, and it's a shame, too. You're such a little winner, you and your Mrs. Garibaldi, that I'd like to be able to tell you so. But I guess it's hopeless."
All of which Lucia listened to politely, but without the first idea of its meaning.
She nodded towards the gate and they walked towards it together. Lathrop mailed his letter, and they stopped to look at the ruins. Lucia questioned some soldiers who were clearing the streets as best they could.
The town hall, at the end of the market-place, was still standing, and to-day it was draped in Italian flags. It looked older and more dignified than ever, amid the ruins, and the flag floated bravely in the crisp fall breeze. Lucia and Lathrop stopped to look at it. Lucia's eyes sparkled and she threw an impulsive kiss towards it. Lathrop saluted respectfully.
As they turned to go back they noticed a crowd of soldiers and some of the townspeople gathered about the gate.
"What can the matter be?" Lucia exclaimed, hurrying forward. "Perhaps it is the King."
They ran to the gate and questioned some of the soldiers.
"More refugees returning," one of them explained. "See there's a whole line of them, it is a good sight, and a good time that they have chosen. Now we will not look so like a deserted place when the King comes."
"Oh, perhaps some of them can give me news of Beppino," Lucia exclaimed, forcing her way through the crowd.
Almost the first person she saw as she ran down the road was Maria's mother. She was walking along beside several other women, and with a start Lucia realized that she looked thin and wan.