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"Will the eccellenza visit the Punto d'Angelo?" she said brightly, as she turned to go. I had never heard of this place, and asked her to what she alluded. "It is not far from here," she explained, "it is the view I spoke of before. Just a little further up the hill you will see a flat gray rock, covered with blue gentians.
No one knows how they grow they are always there, blooming in summer and winter. But it said that one of God's own great angels comes once in every month at midnight to bless the Monte Vergine, and that he stands on that rock. And of course wherever the angels tread there are flowers, and no storm can destroy them not even an avalanche. That is why the people call it the Punto d'Angelo.
I had reached the Punto d'Angelo. It was, as Lilla had said, a flat rock bare in every place save at the summit, where it was thickly covered with the lovely gentians, flowers that are rare in this part of Italy. Here then the fabled angel paused in his flight to bless the venerable sanctuary of Monte Vergine. I stopped and looked around me.
I rose from my seat near the Punto d'Angelo. It was growing late in the afternoon. From the little church below me soft bells rang out the Angelus, and with them chimed in a solemn and harsher sound from the turret of the Monte Vergine.
The Plan "If life doesn't offer a game worth playing, then invent a new one." Anthony J. D'Angelo Denny walked into the interrogation room to find Neoldner and Kurt giggling inside a cloud of smoke. "Oh cripes," Denny muttered. When they heard Denny in the doorway, they stopped moving, slowly turned toward him, and starting giggling again. Denny clenched his fists and exhaled slowly.
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