of the universal worship of
Motherhood.

The brigadier was in sight when we came out of the church and before we
had met in the piazza I became aware that I had caught cold--not a very
remarkable thing in a wet January with a Sicilian wind. He was as
courteous as ever, though a little inclined to grumble because I had not
let him know when to expect me so that he could have met me on my
arrival. I pleaded uncertainty caused by the bad weather, and he
promised to forgive me if I would spend the night at the caserma instead
of returning to Trapani. He would give me his own room all to myself,
for he had to be out on duty guarding the coast between Monte San
Giuliano and Cofano from 9 p.m. till 6 a.m. and, if he should find the
coast quiet and wish to lie down in the early morning, there would be no
difficulty, because one of his men had left him, so that he had four beds
and only three guards to put into them.

It was getting late; we had taken longer to come than I had anticipated,
the horses were tired. There is no inn at Custonaci, but I knew that
Mario could manage somehow; so I accepted, and we went through the
village, down the cliff by a steep and difficult path, and across the
plain. On the way we talked of our day at Selinunte and I asked after
his companions there, but he had heard nothing further of any of them.
Soon we met one of the guards who had come from the caserma to look for
us. He crossed himself as he told us that, coming along, he had heard
the bells ring and knew that the picture of the Madonna was being
unveiled. He was a man of few words, or found our conversation
uninteresting, for he said nothing else all the rest of the way.

The caserma is quite close to and facing the sea. All round the door is
a skeleton porch of wood, which in the summer is fitted with wire gauze
to keep out the mosquitoes. Going through this, we were in the general
room where I was introduced to the other two guards. Behind this room,
with windows looking inland over the plain towards Custonaci, is the
kitchen, and these two rooms make up the middle of the bungalow. The
right wing consists of the brigadier's sitting-room, out of which a door
leads to his bedroom, and the left wing is all one large room, occupied
by the men as their bedroom.

The brigadier took me into his sitting-room to rest. There were only a
few things in it, merely his table with his books and official papers and
three or four chairs;