Lathrop understood the word King, and as the town was talking of nothing else he guessed what she meant.

“Yes,” he replied in Italian, “nice—­glad—­you.”

Lucia laughed.

“Oh, but you are so funny.  How I wish you could speak so that I could understand you!” she said.

Lathrop shook his head.  “There she goes again, I didn’t get even one word this time.”

He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a letter.

“See,” he said, pointing to it.

Lucia nodded.  Lathrop scratched his head.

“You—­in—­letter,” he said painstakingly, “Girl, American.”

“Oh, you have put me in your letter?  How nice!” Lucia said.  “What did you say?”

“I get you, but I’m blest if I can tell you, and it’s a shame, too.  You’re such a little winner, you and your Mrs. Garibaldi, that I’d like to be able to tell you so.  But I guess it’s hopeless.”

All of which Lucia listened to politely, but without the first idea of its meaning.

She nodded towards the gate and they walked towards it together.  Lathrop mailed his letter, and they stopped to look at the ruins.  Lucia questioned some soldiers who were clearing the streets as best they could.

The town hall, at the end of the market-place, was still standing, and to-day it was draped in Italian flags.  It looked older and more dignified than ever, amid the ruins, and the flag floated bravely in the crisp fall breeze.  Lucia and Lathrop stopped to look at it.  Lucia’s eyes sparkled and she threw an impulsive kiss towards it.  Lathrop saluted respectfully.

As they turned to go back they noticed a crowd of soldiers and some of the townspeople gathered about the gate.

“What can the matter be?” Lucia exclaimed, hurrying forward.  “Perhaps it is the King.”

They ran to the gate and questioned some of the soldiers.

“More refugees returning,” one of them explained.  “See there’s a whole line of them, it is a good sight, and a good time that they have chosen.  Now we will not look so like a deserted place when the King comes.”

“Oh, perhaps some of them can give me news of Beppino,” Lucia exclaimed, forcing her way through the crowd.

Almost the first person she saw as she ran down the road was Maria’s mother.  She was walking along beside several other women, and with a start Lucia realized that she looked thin and wan.

“Aunt Rudini!” she called excitedly, “you are back at last.  Oh, Maria will be so glad!”

Senora Rudini looked up, fear and hope in her eyes.

“Maria!” she exclaimed, “where is she?”

“At the convent.  She is helping to nurse the soldiers,” Lucia replied.

“Oh, and I thought she was dead or a prisoner.  She lay down beside me one night, and the next morning she was gone; I have been terrified.”  The old woman was wringing her hands.