send always half the jewels that he might light upon: a good man and a great! And now, see you, oh the pity of it! They have trapped him and taken him, like any greenfinch in a net. Well, he will not be forgotten. We will tell our children's children.'
Then, as talk is always thirsty work, they would go in and drink a good rough red wine, with the Lucchese and Pistoiese strangers, wherever some green bough hung out over a doorway, and over the wine tell how a waggon full of barrels of Neapolitan Lacrima had been stopped but last week by Saturnino on the Orbetello road, and the waggoner, because a crusty and unpersuadable obstinate, had been left in the dust with his feet cut off, Saturnino being intolerant of obstinacy.
Meanwhile the yellow autumnal sun shone on the grey stones of Grosseto, and bells clanged, mules brayed, horses champed, swords clattered, and towards the doors of the prison a fresh squadron of carabiniers, come to replace the jaded escort of Saturnino, rode slowly across the square amidst the muttering of the hostile people. What mattered the wine-carrier? He had been only a Romagnolo.
