d say: 'The eighth mile! cheer up!' Then 'The ninth mile!
Sanctissima Madonna! Have you seen anything moving on the heights?'
But when they got to the _tenth_ milestone, which stands before the
very jaws of the defile, then indeed they said with terrible emphasis,
_'Ad Decimam!'_ And there was no restraining them: they would camp and
entrench, or die in the venture: for they were Romans and stern
fellows, and loved a good square camp and a ditch, and sentries and a
clear moon, and plenty of sharp stakes, and all the panoply of war.
That is the origin of Decimo.

For all my early start, the intolerable heat had again taken the
ascendant before I had fairly entered the plain. Then, it being yet
but morning, I entered from the north the town of Lucca, which is the
neatest, the regularest, the exactest, the most fly-in-amber little
town in the world, with its uncrowded streets, its absurd
fortifications, and its contented silent houses--all like a family at
ease and at rest under its high sun. It is as sharp and trim as its
own map, and that map is as clear as a geometrical problem. Everything
in Lucca is good.

I went with a short shadow, creeping when I could on the eastern side
of the street to save the sunlight; then I came to the main square,
and immediately on my left was the Albergo di Something-or-other, a
fine great hotel, but most unfortunately right facing the blazing sky.
I had to stop outside it to count my money. I counted it wrong and
entered. There I saw the master, who talked French.

'Can you in an hour,' said I, 'give me a meal to my order, then a bed,
though it is early day?' This absurd question I made less absurd by
explaining to him my purpose. How I was walking to Rome and how, being
northern, I was unaccustomed to such heat; how, therefore, I had
missed sleep, and would find it necessary in future to walk mainly by
night. For I had now determined to fill the last few marches up in
darkness, and to sleep out the strong hours of the sun.

All this he understood; I ordered such a meal as men give to beloved
friends returned from wars. I ordered a wine I had known long ago in
the valley of the Saone in the old time of peace before ever the Greek
came to the land. While they cooked it I went to their cool and
splendid cathedral to follow a late Mass. Then I came home and ate
their admirable food and drank the wine which the Burgundians had
trodden upon the hills of gold so many years before. They sho