harness were brought out; it was
the first time they had all been used together, and when Peppino and
Carmelo had harnessed the little beast, he trotted up and down in the
sunshine as proud as though he had been clothed in a rainbow and
freshened up with dewdrops.

I said: "Do you keep the onomastico of the mule also? It seems to me
that he is as much pleased with himself as anyone. He looks as though he
thought everything belonged to him. What is his name and when is his
day?"

"We call him Guido Santo," replied Peppino. "We will make it his festa
also and afterwards we shall be discovering his day in the calendario."

"And if it comes to that," I said, "why shouldn't we include you and
Brancaccia?"

"Bravo!" shouted Peppino, "and Carmelo also. Festa rimandata per tutti!"

A chair for Brancaccia and the baby was tied in the cart among a
multitude of parcels and baskets about which I thought it better not to
inquire. Peppino and I sat on the floor in front, like the driver and
his mate on an illustrated post-card, with our feet dangling down between
the shafts among the mule's hind legs. Carmelo started us off and got in
behind, and we drove to the sea, not the way to the station and the port,
but by the road that descends on the other side of the headland. We
passed by groves of lemon, star-scattered with fruit and blossom and
enclosed in rough walls of black lava; by the grey-green straggling of
the prickly pears and by vines climbing up their canes. We caught
glimpses of promontories dotted with pink and white cottages and of the
thread of foam that outlines the curve of the bay where a train was
busily puffing along by the stony, brown beach, showing how much a little
movement will tell in a still landscape. Behind the shimmering olives,
first on one side, then on the other as we turned with the zig-zags of
the dusty road, was the purple blue of the sea flecked with the white
sails of fishing-boats and with the crests of whiter waves. Every one we
met looked at us and admired the splendour of the cart and the sparkling
newness of the harness until they caught sight of Brancaccia and the
baby, and then they saw nothing but their beauty. We met the man who was
riding up from the fishing village with baskets of fish for the town
because it was Friday. Peppino and Carmelo disputed as to the amount he
was carrying, and agreed at last that it must be about a hundred
kilogrammes, partly by the quantity a