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Updated: May 20, 2025
It had been my intention to make a straight line for Collagna, but I could not tell where Collagna lay save that it was somewhere behind the high mountain that was now darkening against the sky. It did not run in streams but in one full current, and was a true river. All the scene was wild. I had come close to the central ridge of the Apennines.
Coming up to these, I asked them how I might reach Collagna. I understood all their speech except one fatal word. I thought they told me that Ceregio was half the way to Collagna; and what that error cost me you shall hear. They drank my wine, I ate their bread, and we parted: they to go to their accustomed place, and I to cross this unknown valley.
Now when, after this communion, I asked the way to Collagna, they must have thought me foolish, and have wondered why I did not pass the night with them, for they knew how far off Collagna was. It was in reality ten miles. The oldest of my companions said he would put me on the way.
This lane crosses a stream and passes near a tower. When you have reached the tower it joins a great highroad, and that is the road to Collagna. And when he indicated the shrines he smiled, as though in apology for them, and I saw that we were of the same religion. And I continued the path alone.
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