One of Beppo's boy friends went with them as far as the pasture-land below the village. He was driving a flock of goats which he must tend during the day. It was an easy life, but very tedious, and the boy wished he could go to the city, too. He had been there once, to the carnival. It was the grand time of his life, and he loved to tell the story over and over to his young friends.
At first the donkey trotted along quite merrily. His feet were so sure that Tessa had no fear of his stumbling, though the way at first was steep and stony.
"Good Pietro," said his little rider as she patted his head.
Perhaps the praise was too much for him, for Pietro turned his head to one side and came to a standstill. An idea seemed to have come to him. It was time for rest and a lunch. Look at those nice tufts of grass by the roadside. They must not be left behind. And Pietro began to nibble, as though he had no idea of the important business of the day.
Tessa coaxed and Beppo scolded, but the donkey would not budge. It was only when his master turned back and snapped the whip, that he changed his mind about going forward.
This was only the first of many such stops before they drew near the city that was once the greatest in the whole world. It well deserved the name of Rome, or "The Famous."
"What are those large mounds we are passing?" Tessa asked her father as she looked off over the Campagna.
"Those are tombs of men who lived ages ago in this loved country of ours. They were very great, and did noble deeds."
"But, babbo, there is a house built on one of the mounds."
"Yes, my child, the people have not kept them honoured as they should."