Some beggars began to close in about the coach
whining.
Just at the turn, signore, he cried, turning to
Vincent. They heard the muffled bells ofunseen chapels ringing through it. I love
you, said Anthony and kissed his dirty, smeared old face. Then he threw his cloak
around his shoulders.
Perhaps, said he after a little, a host might be
permitted tooffer his guest an arm. And Vincent had saidhe was drunk on new
wine.
But underneath was poverty, the poverty of
nature.
Over ten years, replied the priest reluctantly. But
underneath was poverty, the poverty of nature. That willdo, I think, Pietro, said he
to the urchin at the spit. He must not be drunk, noteven upon old wine.
It was silk, and you know, signore, eventhe aged
MUST eat occasionally. On that magnificent early August morning Pisa was
magical.
They brokeout into a clamorous shout when Aristide
climbed onto the box. There are not many who can afford to be buried here now, he
addedwith a strange touch of pride. But the accent,your Latin accent is terrific.
His face looked drawn andtransparent and he tottered a little. He had neverrealized
how poor and how barren Italy was. But I do not think the policeare going to
help.
To me you are no longer a stranger here,he
continued still holding on to Anthonys arm. Just then the back hood was let down by
an armreaching around out of the window.
But you must not suppose I wasthinking ONLY of
that, signore. He had left in his vest and shirt-sleeves. They sold the old team and
bought four new horses.
The bell has just struck nine, I believe, answered
the oldgentleman with a little quaver.
Indeed, nearlyeverybody was just waiting to be
included. Youre drunk, laughed Vincent as he stumbled down the corridorafter
him.
Open the door and let in the sunlight, bawled
Vincent.
And Anthony knew at once why John Bonnyfeather had
asked to beburied at Pisa. The first day of the trip by which he had set such great
store hadbeen disappointing.
The old woman who had just split open the fourth
chicken broke intoa lament.
It was the first of thelocal harvest and only
lately pressed.
It is over here, signore, close by the way out.