Matrice in the evening to pray. When it is at
Custonaci they go to the balio, where a stone prie-Dieu has been built
for them from which they can see the sanctuary. Here they will go and
pray every evening until such time as the next calamity brings the
picture up among them again.

CUSTONACI

CHAPTER XII--FAITH AND SUPERSTITION

The brigadier and the corporal both sent illustrated postcards to me from
Selinunte and I sent them postcards in return, but the corporal
unaccountably desisted after being transferred to another station; for
instead of returning home in about a month, as he had intended, he signed
on for a further term of service. Perhaps on his change of address one
of my cards may have gone wrong in the post, and he may have considered
that I was neglecting him. I have never seen him again. The next time I
went to Trapani the brigadier, who had been transferred to Custonaci, was
guarding the coast between Monte San Giuliano and Cofano; I put off going
to see him, however, because it was cold and wet and windy, not weather
for excursions into places beyond the reach of civilization. I talked to
Mario, the coachman, about it, and he said he would be ready to take me
if a fine day occurred. I had another reason for wishing to go to
Custonaci: I thought it due to the Madonna di Custonaci that I should pay
my respects to her in her sanctuary after having been present at her
festa on the mountain.

Suddenly there came a fine Saturday. I went out immediately after
breakfast, found Mario, told him to be ready in half an hour, ordered a
basket of provisions from the hotel, put a few things together in case
they might be wanted, and we started.

The road took us inland and round the foot of Mount Eryx, through
Paparella and the other villages where some of the wealthy Trapanese have
their summer villas, and after a most lovely drive of three hours, we
arrived at Custonaci. The village is on a low rocky cliff which rises
not from the sea but from an extensive plain. Standing on the cliff one
looks over the plain with Monte San Giuliano closing the view on the left
and on the right the mountain promontory of Cofano, a great, isolated,
solemn, grey rock, full of caves, sprinkled with green and splashed with
raw sienna; between them, two or three kilometres away, is the sea which,
I suppose, formerly covered the plain and washed the foot of the cliff.
Prominent on the shore, rather nearer to Cofa