“All these years,” he exclaimed, “and you have never had the energy to come. Shame!”
“But how could I come alone?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “Besides, I don’t see anything very nice about the place. What is so exciting about weeds and broken stones?”
“I will have the honor of showing you, my dear,” said Grandfather kindly. “But we must wait for the others. Sit down and be very still, and I will show you something that may interest you more than broken stones.”
The servants spread rugs on some flat rocks so that Galiana and I could sit without spoiling our dresses. Then they withdrew, at the Prince’s command, and for a long time we sat in silence.
In the warmth and the pastoral stillness my nerves began to relax. My earlier impression of the place as uncanny and frightening must have come from my sensitivity to Grandfather’s strange mood. It really was quite a pretty place. Wildflowers bloomed everywhere. Birds sang in the trees; as we continued to sit quietly they began to flutter about and swoop from branch to branch. Then a rustle in the underbrush made Galiana start. Andrea put his fingers to his lips and shook his head, smiling. A rabbit hopped out into the clearing.
It was the biggest, fattest, whitest rabbit I had ever seen, and the least timid. It hopped out onto the path and stood still; it was so close that I could see its whiskers quiver as it sniffed the air. It must have scented us or seen us, but it did not seem at all disturbed by our presence. With a negligent air it began to nibble at the rank grass.
Galiana broke the spell by giggling. The rabbit gave her a sideways look and retreated, but not in a blur of motion as these wild creatures usually exhibit when startled. It bounced along in a leisurely fashion, as if it had just remembered a not very important engagement.
“How tame it is,” I exclaimed. “Was it a pet at one time?”
“No,” said Andrea. “All the rabbits here are wild; all are white; all are as unconcerned about man as that one you saw. It is because they have never been hunted. The peasants think they are supernatural creatures—the souls of the old Etruscans, perhaps.”
“You don’t hunt them either?” I said. “I’m glad, Andrea. They are so pretty and so trusting.”
“They do not challenge a hunter,” said Andrea, with a laugh. “Besides, the Prince has a fondness for them; eh, Grandfather?”
Grandfather shrugged; he disliked being accused of sentimental weaknesses, though he had quite a few.
“They are a curiosity,” he said.
It was not long before we were joined by the rest of the party. They had to come the last few yards on foot, leaving the carriage at the road, and it was an amusing sight to see Miss Rhoda being respectfully propelled along by two sturdy footmen. The Contessa leaned on the arm of her maid, who lifted her over the rougher parts as easily as a man might have done. Stefano brought up the rear. He obviously found progress both painful and difficult, but no one volunteered to help him or expressed sympathy.
The tomb of the princess was the greatest attraction, so we went there first. Miss Perkins was fascinated by the monolithic stone door.
“How wise of you to have left it in position, your Excellency,” she exclaimed. “So many excavators simply blast their way through by means of battering rams and explosives. I am amazed at how clever these ancients were in devising such things.”
“It is a curious structure,” Grandfather said. “You see how carefully it is balanced. Once the trick of opening it is known, it can be moved by one man. This crevice in the rock…”He slipped the fingers of his right hand into a crack that was in no way distinguished from other irregularities in the rock facing. “This crevice is the point of pressure. There is a rude catch, a sort of lock. One pushes…and voilÀ!”
And with the word—like the “Open Sesame” of the fairy tale—the great slab slowly swung out.
We were standing in a semicircle before the entrance, at a safe distance from the swing of the door, but as the great stone moved, several of us involuntarily stepped back. A breath of cool, dank air issued from the opening.
Stefano was watching me with his faint sardonic smile. He and Miss Perkins were the only ones who knew of my brief incarceration in this dreadful place, and I was determined that no one else should know of it. I thought I concealed my agitation rather well. I might even have forced myself to descend into the tomb if Grandfather had not, in all innocence, made a fatal gesture.
In our exploration of the tombs we had to manage without the assistance of the servants. They were reluctant to come into the valley at all; into the tombs they would not go, not even under threats of the direst punishment. The only exception was the Contessa’s maid, who followed her mistress like a squat black shadow—counting, I suppose, on that lady’s saintly character to shield her from spiritual dangers.
So, when the door of the tomb swung open, Grandfather assumed the role of guide, lighting one of the candles and preparing to lead the way. It was then that he struck down my faltering confidence by simply holding out his hand to me. Of course he meant to assist me on the narrow slippery stairs. His face was wreathed in a kindly smile. I had actually extended my own hand to take his when suddenly I realized that I was unable to move.
“No,” I gasped. “No, I cannot—”
“Moi, aussi,” said Galiana, putting her arm through mine. “Oh, that horrible dark hole! We will stay here, Francesca; you brave gentlemen may descend into the dirt and the dark without us.”
Thanks to her, my refusal was considered no more than a typical feminine weakness. The others tried to persuade us. Grandfather demonstrated several times the method of blocking the door so that there was not the slightest danger of our being trapped inside. A wooden wedge, inserted into the crevice, prevented the stone catch from slipping into place; the door could thus be completely shut and still yield to pressure from within. I watched this demonstration with shivering interest, wishing I had known of it on that other occasion; but even this, and Andrea’s offer to carry her. did not persuade Galiana to risk her embroidered skirts on the stairs.
In the end only Grandfather and Miss Perkins, assisted by Andrea, made the descent. Miss Rhoda declined with a sniff; I doubt that she could have squeezed her crinoline into the space anyhow. The Contessa stood watching. The beads of her rosary, which was always in her hands when they were not occupied with embroidery, slipped slowly through her fingers.
The others stayed underground for quite some time. We could hear their voices, grotesquely distorted, and an occasional laugh from Andrea. When they finally emerged, Miss Perkins was beaming and repeating her favorite word.
“Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. Your Excellency, do you consider the date of 800 B.C. reasonable for this tomb?”
The two of them continued their discussion while we visited several other tombs. I found that I was able to enter these without a qualm, although they had stairways even steeper and narrower than those of the tomb of the princess. These tombs were later in date than the first, being of the fifth and fourth centuries before Christ, and I found them more interesting. The rock-cut ledges on which the bodies of the dead were laid had been carved in the shape of beds, with stone pillows and posts. One of the tombs had walls ornamented in bas-relief; shield and spears, helmets and pieces of armor showed that the occupants had belonged to a family of warriors.
Interesting as it all was, it was also a dirty, depressing experience, and even Miss Perkins had had enough when we emerged from the tomb of the warriors into the pleasant sunlight. While we explored the tombs, the servants had set out a magnificent repast, covering a stone slab that served as a table with snowy damask cloths, and bringing chairs from the wagon. We all ate too much—except the Contessa, who nibbled in her birdlike fashion—and after dining we were glad to sit or recline for a while before returning to the castle.
The Contessa decided to return to the carriage, where her embroidery was awaiting her attention. She and her maid went off, the slight form of the older lady leaning on the arm of the younger. They were both wearing their usual unrelieved black, yet no two persons could have been more different. Bianca’s rusty black skirts were like molting plumage, and even the hoarse caw which was the poor creature’s only mode of expression resembled the cry of a crow. As for the Contessa…. There was one black swan among all the white ones that swam in the pond in the garden. The Contessa was like that swan, in her slenderness, her gliding movements.
After a while Miss Rhoda followed the Contessa, declaring that she had had enough of picnics and was ready to return to civilization whenever the rest of us were. Miss Perkins begged for a delay; she was ready to explore again, and Grandfather, flattered by her interest in his ancestors, offered to show her another tomb at a little distance. They invited me to join them, but I was having trouble with one of my boots and said that if I could fix it I would catch them up. So they went off; Grandfather offered Miss Perkins his arm, but she was gesticulating so animatedly that she failed to observe the gallant gesture. I looked about and realized that Galiana and Andrea were no longer with us. Even the servants had gone, after tidying up the remains of the banquet. Stefano and I were alone.
He had settled himself in the only patch of shade, under an overhanging rock ledge, so I joined him. It was too hot at this hour to sit in the sun.
“I wonder where Andrea and Galiana have gone,” I said, lifting my foot and inspecting my boot. The heel was loose. There was nothing I could do about it; makeshift repairs would not serve.
Stefano, leaning against the rock with his arms folded and his eyes closed, said shortly, “Leave them alone. They have few enough opportunities to be by themselves.”
“Do you think they are—er—fond of one another?” I asked, conscious of a strange little pang.
“What gossips women are,” Stefano said irritably. “Of course they are fond of one another. They have been friends since infancy.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“I know.” Stefano opened his eyes and stared at me. “Are you jealous, Cousin? I suppose that like all the females who pass through Andrea’s life you fancy yourself in love with him.”
“If I were, I certainly would not confess it to you,” I replied angrily.
