place, and Luigi took
possession as if he owned it. He tied Ugolone in the ruins of what had
once been a stately banqueting-hall, and let the donkeys eat their
supper from the green grass which carpeted the court-yard.

Soon a fire was blazing in the ruins of an ancient chimney, and the
tired travellers gathered about it for their evening meal. From the
tower came the surprised hoot of a solitary owl, and bats, disturbed by
the light, swooped in great circles about the little group as they
silently ate their polenta. Even the monkey seemed to feel the weird
spell of the place, for she cowered in a corner by the fire, chattering
to herself, while from the banqueting-hall came the complaining growls
of poor hungry Ugolone. It was to such music as this that the children
of the Marchese at last fell asleep.

CHAPTER FIVE.

ON THE ROAD.

When they awoke the next morning Carlotta and Luigi were nowhere in
sight. The monkey was tied to one wheel of the van, and from the
banqueting-hall came the sound of human voices, quarrelling. The tones
were so loud that the children could not help hearing the words.

"It is all your fault!" said Luigi's voice. "It was you who made me get
the bear in the first place, and undertake this foolish trip, all
because you must again see your people in Florence. If we had but
stayed in Venice! The bear was old when we got him; he was already
tired and sick when we left Florence, and now, per Bacco, he is dead!
You would not feed him, yet it was Ugolone that we depended upon to
bring in the money. A hand-organ, a monkey--what are they? And now you
have added those brats beside for us to feed! This comes of listening
to a woman and a smooth-tongued Tuscan at that. I could beat you!"

Carlotta's wheedling voice answered him. "Do not grieve, my angel," she
said; "you will yet see the wisdom of your Carlotta. Ugolone was old
and sick, it is true. A pest upon the villain who sold him to us! May
his eyes weep rivers of tears! But you are wrong about the children.
They are worth more than Ugolone, the donkeys, and the van, all put
together. Did you not see how they pleased the people yesterday? I
will teach them to sing more songs, and to dance the tarantella as well
as the trescone, and we shall soon forget this sorrow. When we reach
the coast, we will sell the van and the donkeys, and go back to your
beloved Venice, to live in comfort on the earnings of these brats! You
shall