them some time with anxious, straining eyes, gathered up her skirts and went rapidly down the rough and stony mountain path.
At the Fortuna Inn.
It was nearly three in the afternoon when she reached Pistoja. The Fortuna Inn was some hundred paces outside the town, and at this hour of siesta there was not much life about the place. Carriages, with the horses taken out, stood in the shade under the overhanging roof, the drivers fast asleep on the cushions; opposite, too, at the great smithy, work had stopped; and not a breath of air penetrated through the dusty trees along the high road. Fenice went up to the fountain before the house, the busy jet of water flowing ceaselessly down into the great stone trough, and there refreshed her hands and face. Then she took a long slow drink to satisfy both thirst and hunger, and went into the inn.
The landlord got up sleepily from the bench at the bar, but sat down again when he saw that it was only a girl from the hills who thus disturbed his rest.
"What do you want?" he said to her sharply. "If you want anything to eat, or wine to drink, go to the kitchen."
"Are you the landlord?" she asked quietly.
"I should think so; I should think everyone knew me—Baldassare Tizzi, of the Fortuna. What do you bring me, my good girl?"
"A message from the lawyer, Signor Filippo Mannini."
"Eh, what? Indeed? That's another matter," and he got up hurriedly. "Is he not coming himself, child? There are some gentlemen here waiting for him."
"Then take me to them."
"What, secrets? May I not know what message he sends to these gentlemen?"
"No."
"Well, well, my child, well, well. Each one has his own secrets—your pretty little obstinate head as well as old Baldassare's hard pate. So he is not coming? The gentlemen will not be pleased at that; they evidently have important business with him."
He stopped and looked at the girl with a sidelong glance. But as she did not show any signs of taking him further into her condence, and went to open the door, he put on his straw hat and went with her, shaking his head all the time.
There was a small vineyard at the back of the inn, which they walked through, the old man keeping up a continued flow of questions and exclamations, to which the girl did not deign to reply. At the further end of the middle walk stood a poor-looking summerhouse; the shutters were closed, and inside a thick curtain hung behind the glass door. The landlord made Fenice stop a little way from this pavilion, and went up to the door, which was opened when he knocked. Fenice noticed how the curtain was then drawn on one side, and a pair of eyes looked out at her. Then the old man came back to her and said that the gentlemen would speak to her.
As Fenice entered the pavilion, a man, who had been sitting at the table with his back to the door, rose from his seat and gave a sharp and penetrating look at her. Two other men remained seated. On the table she saw bottles of wine and glasses.
