the upland farm of Bella Luce could have told them a different story!
However, be scrupulous as she might to gather the vine cuttings under each plant as quickly as she could, and to linger no longer over one part of her work than another, it was impossible to avoid giving each of the three men, in turn, an opportunity of saying a few words to her from the top of his ladder, which was out of earshot of the others.
The field in which the party was at work commanded the hollow lane, by which the Fano attorney was approaching Bella Luce; and it so happened that Giulia, who was at that moment gathering up Beppo’s cuttings, was the first to catch sight of the guest.
“Beppo! there is a man on horseback coming up the lane! I declare I think . . . . yes, it certainly is,” she added, shading her eyes with her hand, “old Sandro, the attorney at Fano!”
“What can he be coming here for? . . . . no good, you may swear!” said Beppo, who considered the attorney only in the light of one of a conspiracy to deprive him of Giulia.
“Fie, Beppo! I am sure you ought not to say that of him of all people in the world! As if you did not know that he was coming here to propose his daughter for your Excellency’s acceptance!”
“The apoplexy catch him and his daughter, too! No, poor Lisa! I don’t mean that! But I wish he would let Lisa go her way, and me mine!”
“What a fine thing it must be to be a rich Signore, and to have the girls, pretty ones, too, like Lisa, coming to beg for the honour of your alliance! But it’s cruel to be hard upon her, Beppo! I would not refuse her, for we poor girls, you know, are apt to break our silly hearts for you ungrateful men.”
“Giulia! how can you go on so? As if you did not know! Ah! it’s only the girls who break their hearts, I suppose. Well! if you don’t know—”
“All I know is, that I must run and tell the padrone”—it was so that Giulia always spoke of the master of the family;—“that Ser Sandro is coming up the hill! Good bye, Beppo! Don’t be cruel to poor Lisa!”
And off she tripped to the part of the field where Paolo was at work, and from which that part of the hollow lane, in which the attorney was riding, was not visible.
“’Gnor padrone! There is Ser Sandro, from Fano, coming up the hill! Had I not better run and tell the padrona?”
“Ser Sandro coming? where?”
“He is in the hollow of the lane there; I saw him just now.”
“Whatever is in the wind to bring him out to Bella Luce to-day of all days in the year!” exclaimed old Paolo. “Yes, run, my girl, run, and tell la sposa that Ser Sandro will take a mouthful of dinner with us!”
Giulia waited for no second bidding, but ran off to the house, to prepare the mistress for the great and unusual event which was impending over Bella Luce, while old Paolo came down from his ladder, and, with his pruning-hatchet still hanging at his loins behind, and his bundle of withy twigs still stuck in front of him, hastened to the edge of the field where it overlooked the hollow way, to greet his visitor as he came up.
“Why, Signor Sandro!” he said from the top of the bank, as the attorney passed below him, “who would have thought of seeing you out at Bella Luce this morning! What news from town? How is the Signora Lisa? Come up, come up! there’ll be a mouthful of something or another to eat in the house.”
“Eat! Ah; you may talk about eating up here! What a beautiful air you have on the hill-side here. Per bacco, life must be worth fifty per cent. longer purchase here than down in the city there!”
“What time did you start this morning, Signor Sandro?”
“Oh, we’ve taken it easy, Moro and I! I knew there was no use in getting here before the angelus, if I wanted to speak with you, Signor Paolo! How are the vines looking?”
“There is not much to boast of! If we have a glass of wine to drink, it is as much as we shall have!”
“Why, they tell me that there are no signs of the disease yet, none even down in the plains; and you are sure to be better off here!”
“Wait a bit! It’s too soon yet! You’ll see in another couple of months! I never cry till I’m out of the wood. The disease will come quite time enough, never you fear! What else can you expect?”
“Expect! why should I expect it? There was much less of it last year than the year before! I expect to have none this year!”
“And do you think that is likely, Signor Sandro, with such maledictions as we have in these blessed times! With the beastly smoking, spluttering railway, that’s going to be finished they say this year, is it likely that the air would not be poisoned. There’ll be no more crops such as there used to be,—you mark my words!—as long as those things are in the country. Why, it stands to reason, they are against nature!”
“I know there are many that consider the vine disease to be caused by the railroad,” replied Signor Sandro; “very good judges and competent persons too, ay, and ’sponsible men like yourself, Signor Paolo. So I’m sure it’s not for me to say it is not so. Only they do say that the disease is just the same, where there are no railroads.”
Chatting thus, the attorney and the farmer approached the house and each other together—the former coming up the road which reached the level of the house and of the field, along the edge of which the latter was walking—a few yards only from the door.
Beppo and Carlo had come down from their pruning ladders, and were following their father at some distance towards the house.
Giulia meanwhile, after communicating her tidings to Signora Sunta, slipped away to her own chamber to make some little preparation for appearing before the eyes of the townsman. She would not have dreamed of doing anything of the sort for any visitors from any of the neighbouring