The Saint, who was present, being on
his way up from the Infernillo with water, had stretched out his hand,
and the mule had become quiet on the instant!
Maria told the story as she had heard it from the forester.
"I wonder if it is all as true as the part about the prince of royal
blood!" said Noemi.
"To-morrow we shall know," Giovanni answered, rising.
II
They started at about six o'clock; the sky was cloudy; and a cool breeze
was blowing, fragrant with the odours of the woods and the hills, alive
with the tiny, gay voices of birds, purifying to the soul itself. At the
Baths of Nero they took the mule-path which leads into the narrow, green
ravine, winding upwards on the right of the Anio. High up on the left
they saw Santa Scolastica, the Sacro Speco, and the House of the Blessed
Lawrence, all white below the rocks, which are the colour of iron. They
left the bridge of the Scalilla on the right--only a log, thrown across
to the wild left bank of the turbulent little torrent. On the way they
talked much of the strange Saint.
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