Picciola

by X.-B. Saintine

But the whole force and fortitude of Teresa’s mind were devoted to her progress. She has scarcely even found a moment for the contemplation of the farther means to be adopted. But a halt being suddenly imposed upon the crowd on reaching the outskirts of the field, she began to reflect on the uneasiness the prolongation of her absence would cause to her father (since the guide who had deserted her at Turin would not be permitted to enter the prison). She thought of Charney accusing his messenger of neglect and indifference; then felt for the petition in her bosom, apprehensive that, by some unlucky chance, it might have escaped her.

At the idea of her father grieving over the unwonted absence of his child, tears rushed into the eyes of Teresa; and it was from a reverie produced by these painful emotions that she was recalled to herself by the cries of joy bursting from the surrounding multitude. An open space had been formed just beside the spot where she was resting, around which the crowd seemed circling; and the moment Teresa turned her head to ascertain the cause of the tumult, her hands were seized, and in spite of her resistance, her depression, her fatigue, she found herself compelled to take part in a farandola, which went whirling along the road, recruiting all the pretty girls and sprightly lads who could be involved in the diversion.

Vexatious as was the interruption, Teresa at length found means to disengage herself from such unsatisfactory society; and having contrived by a painful effort to push her way through the crowd, she at length obtained a glimpse of the vast plain glittering with troops; and her eyes having wandered for some minutes over the splendid army, paused upon the little hillock occupied by the imperial court. At the sight of the throne, the aim and end of her perilous journey, Teresa’s heart leaped for joy; her courage returned, her strength seemed renewed. All her preceding cares were forgotten. But how to attain the wished-for spot? How to traverse those battalions of men and horses? There was madness in the very project!

But that which at first sight presented an obstacle, soon appeared to farther her intentions. The foremost ranks of the crowd pouring in torrents from Alexandria, having deployed to the right and left, on reaching the plain, were gradually gaining the banks of the Tanaro and the Bormida; where, at one moment, they pushed on so impetuously as to seem on the point of taking possession of the field of battle. A small body of cavalry instantly galloped towards the spot, waving their naked sabres, and by the plunging of their chargers causing the terrified crowd to return to the limits assigned them. The intruders evacuated the territory as rapidly as they had gained it, with the exception of a single individual: that individual was Teresa Girardi!

In an adjacent hollow of the plain, surrounded by a strong quickset hedge, and sheltered by a small thicket of trees, flowed a spring of limpid water; towards which, thrust onwards by the crowd of spectators, the poor girl, whose eyes were fixed upon the throne in the distance, found herself irresistibly impelled. Apprehensive every moment of being crushed in the throng, she seized in her arms the trunk of the nearest poplar tree; and closing her eyes, like a child who fancies the danger has ceased to exist which it is not obliged to look upon, remained motionless, her hearing confused by the rustling of the surrounding foliage. The advance and retreat of the mob was, in fact, so instantaneous, that when Teresa re-opened her eyes she was quite alone, separated from the troops by the hedge and thicket, and from the crowd by a column of dust, produced by the last detachment of fugitives. Throwing herself at once into the little copse, she found herself in the centre of about twenty poplar and aspen trees, overshadowing a crystal spring welling out of the ground over a bed of ivy, moss and celandine, till, bubbling onward in a silver thread, it gradually formed a brook capable of traversing the plain, over which its course was defined by painted tufts of blue forget-me-not, and the clusters of the white ranunculus. The refreshing exhalations of the shady spot assisted to restore the self-possession and strength of the exhausted girl. Teresa felt as though she had reached an oasis of verdure in the desert, sheltered from dust, and heat, and disturbance.

Meanwhile the plain has become suddenly quiet; she hears neither the word of command, the huzza of the crowd, nor the neighing of the horses. All she can discern is a singular movement overhead; and, looking up, Teresa perceives every bough and spray of the trees to be covered with flights of sparrows, driven to shelter from all quarters of the plain by the alarming movement of the troops and the incursions of the crowd. The poor birds, like the poor girl contemplating them, have taken refuge in that verdant solitude, their little wings and throats apparently paralysed by affright; for not a sound breaks from the band of feathered fugitives. Even on the advance of a brigade of cavalry towards the thicket, accompanied by the braying of trumpets, not a bird is seen to stir. They appear to wait anxiously for the result; while a similar feeling prompts Girardi’s daughter to look through the foliage upon the field.

Her eyes are quickly attracted by files of troops, which appear to have cut off all communication between the thicket and the road.

“After all,” thought the trembling Teresa, “it is but a sham-fight that is about to take place; and if I have been imprudent in venturing hither, the Almighty, who knows the innocence of my heart, will keep me in time of trouble!”