The Italian
In Old Italy
Chapter I
FROM the gray, old monastery, flung like a rampart of the faith against the Italian sky, the bells were ringing the Angelus. A deep, sweet silence had shrouded the vineyards, where the peasants stood with bowed heads. Even the shaggy burros seemed to understand as they gazed with calm, patient eyes over the scene they had grown to love; the sunshine, the mountains. Infinite peace and