The driver took this for reproach, and with a shrill burst of defence pointed to his smoking horses. The Carabinieri laughed, and diving into the field, one on either side, they kept up with the carriage as it neared the village.
'Why, it is like coming home!' said Lucy, wondering. And indeed they were now surrounded by the whole village population, just returned from the fields—pointing, chattering, laughing, shouting friendly directions to the driver. 'Santa Trinità!' 'Ecco!—Santa Trinità!' sounded on all sides, amid a forest of gesticulating hands.
'How could they know?' said Eleanor, looking at the small crowd with startled eyes. Lucy spoke a word to the young man on the box.
'They knew, he says, as soon as the carriage was ordered yesterday. Look! there are the telegraph wires! The whole countryside knows! They are greatly excited by the coming of forestieri—especially at this time of year.'
'Oh! we can't stay!' said Eleanor with a little moan, wringing her hands.
'It's only the country people,' said Lucy tenderly, taking one of the hands in hers. 'Did you see the Contessa when you were here before?'
And she glanced up at the great yellow mass of the palazzo towering above the little town, the sunset light flaming on its long western face.
'No. She was away. And the fattore who took us in left in January. There is a new man.'
'Then it's quite safe!' said Lucy in French. And her kind deep eyes looked steadily into Eleanor's, as though mutely cheering and supporting her.
Eleanor unconsciously pressed her hand upon her breast. She was looking round her in a sudden anguish of memory. For, now they were through the village, they were descending—they were in the woods. Ah! the white walls of the convent—the vacant windows in its ruined end—and at the gate of the rough farmyard that surrounded it the stalwart capoccia, the grinning, harsh-featured wife that she remembered.