All these preparations had occupied me so much that I had not found any time to grieve over my poor little vineyard that I had sold; and, besides, I was thinking all the while of Nino, and how glad he would be to know that I was really searching for Hedwig.  But when I thought of the vines, it hurt me; and I think it is only long after the deed that it seems more blessed to give than to receive.

But at last I slept, as tired folk will, leaving care to the morrow; and when I awoke it was daybreak, and Mariuccia was clattering angrily with the tin coffee-pot outside.  It was a bright morning, and the goldfinch sang, and I could hear him scattering the millet seed about his cage while I dressed.  And then the parting grew very near, and I drank my coffee silently, wondering how soon it would be over, and wishing that the old woman would go out and let me have my house alone.  But she would not, and, to my surprise, she made very little worry or trouble, making a great show of being busy.  When I was quite ready she insisted on putting a handful of roasted chestnuts into my pocket, and she said she would pray for me.  The fact is, she thought, foolish old creature, as she is, that I was old and in poor health, and she had often teased me to go into the country for a few days, so that she was not ill pleased that I should seem to take her advice.  She stood looking after me as I trudged along the street, with my bundle and my good stick in my right hand, and a lighted cigar in my left.

I had made up my mind that I ought first to try the direction hinted at by the baron, since I had absolutely no other clue to the whereabouts of the Count von Lira and his daughter.  I therefore got into the old stage that still runs to Palestrina and the neighbouring towns, for it is almost as quick as going by rail, and much cheaper; and half-an-hour later we rumbled out of the Porta San Lorenzo, and I had entered upon the strange journey to find Hedwig von Lira, concerning which frivolous people have laughed so unkindly.  And you may call me a foolish old man if you like.  I did it for my boy.

CHAPTER XIII

I went to Palestrina because all foreigners go there, and are to be heard of from other parts of the mountains in that place.  It was a long and tiresome journey; the jolting stage-coach shook me very much.  There was a stout woman inside, with a baby that squealed; there was a very dirty old country curate, who looked as though he had not shaved for a week, or changed his collar for a month.  But he talked intelligently, though he talked too much, and he helped to pass the time until I was weary of him.  We jolted along over the dusty roads, and were at least thankful that it was not yet hot.