And how about D'Avencourt's friendly advice concerning the matrimonial knot? "A man should not walk on the edge of a precipice with his eyes shut." Very true. But if his eyes are open, and he has his enemy by the throat, the edge of a precipice is a convenient position for hurling that enemy down to death in a quiet way, that the world need know nothing of! So for the present I preferred the precipice to walking on level ground.
I rose from my seat near the Punto d'Angelo. It was growing late in the afternoon. From the little church below me soft bells rang out the Angelus, and with them chimed in a solemn and harsher sound from the turret of the Monte Vergine. I lifted my hat with the customary reverence, and stood listening, with my feet deep in the grass and scented thyme, and more than once glanced up at the height whereon the venerable sanctuary held its post, like some lonely old god of memory brooding over vanished years. There, according to tradition, was once celebrated the worship of the many-breasted Cybele; down that very slope of grass dotted with violets had rushed the howling, naked priests beating their discordant drums and shrinking their laments for the loss of Atys, the beautiful youth, their goddess's paramour. Infidelity again!--even in this ancient legend, what did Cybele care for old Saturn, whose wife she was? Nothing, less than nothing!--and her adorers worshiped not her chastity, but her faithlessness; it is the way of the world to this day!
The bells ceased ringing; I descended the hill and returned homeward through a shady valley, full of the odor of pines and bog-myrtle. On reaching the gate of the Signora Monti's humble yet picturesque dwelling, I heard the sound of laughter and clapping of hands, and looking in the direction of the orchard, I saw Vincenzo hard at work, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to the shoulder, splitting some goodly logs of wood, while Lilla stood beside him, merrily applauding and encouraging his efforts. He seemed quite in his element, and wielded his ax with a regularity and vigor I should scarcely have expected from a man whom I was accustomed to see performing the somewhat effeminate duties of a valet-de-chambre. I watched him and the fair girl beside him for a few moments, myself unperceived.
If this little budding romance were left alone it would ripen into a flower, and Vincenzo would be a happier man than his master. He was a true Tuscan, from the very way he handled his wood-ax; I could see that he loved the life of the hills and fields--the life of a simple farmer and fruit-grower, full of innocent enjoyments, as sweet as the ripe apples in his orchard. I could foresee his future with Lilla beside him. He would have days of unwearying contentment, rendered beautiful by the free fresh air and the fragrance of flowers--his evenings would slip softly by to the tinkle of the mandolin, and the sound of his wife and children's singing.