His Majesty stopped, smiled, and returned the salute gravely.

Beppi waited until he had walked on, then he buried his face in Lucia’s skirts, and wept from sheer joy.

Lucia’s pride knew no bounds.  Her heart was beating wildly, but she stood very still until the King went into the town hall, then she picked Beppi up in her arms and ran excitedly across the town and out to the convent.

“We can see him again, darling, so stand very still,” she said.  “He is coming to see the soldiers.”

They watched the gate eagerly, and before long the gray car came through it very slowly.  A crowd of people surrounded it, cheering and throwing flowers.  The King smiled and bowed to them all.  Lucia’s eyes never left his face.  Suddenly she saw him lean forward excitedly as the big car stopped.  Beppi tugged at her skirts.

“Look at Garibaldi, she is blocking the way.”

Lucia looked, and to her horror she saw her pet standing in the middle of the road, her four hoofs planted firmly in the mud, and her head lowered.

“Oh, the wretch,” Lucia exclaimed, darting forward.  “Come here at once!” she called.

Garibaldi looked around and obediently trotted off.  The car started, and the King waved especially to Lucia as he passed, but even so great an honor could not compensate her.  She was mortified to tears that her goat should have been guilty of lese majeste.

No entreaties on Beppi’s part could make her stay to wait for the King’s return.  She left him with a soldier, and went around the corner of the convent, followed by the disgraced Garibaldi.

She sat down on a bench and sighed.

“Of course you’re only a goat,” she said scornfully, “but I did think you had more sense than to do anything as terrible as that.  Do you know who that was that you made to stop?  That was the King, do you hear?”

Garibaldi walked away indifferently.

“Oh, I am disgusted with you forever,” Lucia exclaimed with a shrug of disdain.  “You will stay here until he goes away again, and then I shall take you home and tie you up.”

Garibaldi paid no attention to the threat.  Perhaps she knew how empty it would prove to be.

“Lucia, Lucia, my child, where are you?” Sister Francesca’s voice trembled as she called.

“Here I am, sister,” Lucia jumped up.  “Do you want me?”

“Oh, my dear, I have looked everywhere for you.  Come with me at once.”

Lucia followed, wondering at the expression in the nun’s usually placid face.  But Sister Francesca did not stop to give any explanations.  She led the way hurriedly back to the front door, of the convent, and up the steps through the ward of smiling men, and only stopped when she reached the door of Captain Riccardi’s private room.

“Go in, my dear,” she said, giving Lucia a little push.  “The Captain wants to speak to you.”