Consequently, instead of being obliged to climb to the summit in order to witness the eruption, we were able to drive so near the stream of lava that we only had to walk a short distance to see the terrible opening, which was approached more or less closely, according to the degree of boldness or curiosity with which each one was endowed.
But the spectacle presented an imposing appearance long before we saw it close at hand, and I was in the height of admiration when I heard a murmur beside me: “O Gesù, Gesù!... O Madonna santa!...” Turning around, I beheld my aunt, pale with fright, kissing the cross of the rosary she held in her hand.
Donna Clelia, as we are perfectly aware, knew how to brave danger when she found an occasion worthy of the trouble. We had a proof of this on the memorable day of the combat on the Toledo. But, as it [pg 448] has perhaps also been perceived, she was rather indifferent to the picturesque. Consequently, there was nothing at this moment to stimulate her courage, and I was alarmed at the condition in which I saw her.
“O Ginevrina mia!...” said she at last in a trembling voice, “non mi fido! No, I have not the courage to go any further.... Madonna!...”
This last appeal was caused by a stream of fire brighter than any of the preceding ones, and accompanied by a loud detonation.
“But merciful Lord! What folly!” she continued. “What caprice! What madness! How can you wish to rush into such a lake of fire while you are still alive!... Oh! no, not yet; no, never! O mamma mia! misericordia!...”
Each new stream of fire produced a more lively exclamation of terror. All at once she leaned her head on my shoulder, exclaiming:
“Ginevrina!... I feel I am going to have a papariello!”[106]
At this we stopped the carriage. It was evidently dangerous to take her any further. But what should we do?... Must we give up our excursion, and retrace our steps? We were not inclined to do this. Besides, the other carriage was some distance in advance, and could not be recalled. In this dilemma we were rejoined by the carozzella. Gilbert and Mario leaped from their carriage to ascertain what had happened to us.
“What is it, Zia Clelia?” said Mario, approaching the carriage, and perceiving my aunt in the attitude I have just mentioned. She raised her head.