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Updated: May 25, 2025
Though she persisted in her determination that her grandmother sleep in state in the best bed, she herself preferred a simple and softer resting place. "Tell me a story," Beppi demanded; "not about fairies and silly make believes, but about soldiers." "But there are no pretty stories about soldiers, Beppino mio," Lucia protested. "Who wants pretty stories!" Beppi replied scornfully.
The children were wild with pleasure, being absolutely new to the country, and ran over the island, plucking bouquets of weeds and flowers by armsful. A rake, borne afield upon the shoulder of a peasant, afterwhile fascinated the Venetian Beppi, and drew him away to study its strange and wonderful uses.
"Oh, I could not bear it!" Maria tried to stifle her sobs. "All yesterday, as we ran away from the guns, I kept thinking back there, there is work and I am running away. I knew that you were here, and I thought you were killed. Nana was half crazy with fear and we could get nothing out of her." "But Beppi, he is safe, and aunt is taking care of him?" Lucia insisted.
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