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Night drew on apace and, as a last resource, he led the way to the dwelling of a gentleman of the old school a retired brigand, to wit, who, as I afterwards learned, had some ten or twelve homicides to his account. Delianuova, and indeed the whole of Aspromonte, has a bad reputation for crime. It was our last remaining chance.
Both of them, to my knowledge, possessing indifferent accommodation, I chose the former as being the nearest, and slept there, not amiss; far better than on a previous occasion, when certain things occurred which need not be set down here. The trip from Delianuova over the summit of Montalto to Bova railway station is by no means to be recommended to young boys or persons in delicate health.
From Gioia there runs a postal diligence once a day to Delianuova of which I might have availed myself, had I not preferred to traverse the country on foot. The journey from Reggio to Bagnara on this fair summer morning, along the rippling Mediterranean, was short enough, but sufficiently long to let me overhear the following conversation: A. What a lovely sea!
Nightmare-literature is the crazy recital of their deeds and sufferings. Pathological phantoms! The state of mind which engenders and cherishes such illusions is a disease, and it has been well said that "you cannot refute a disease." You cannot nail ghosts to the counter. But a ray of light . . . Day was barely dawning when we left Delianuova and began the long and weary climb up Montalto.
"Unless you discover some one who will carry the bag not only to Sinopoli, but as far as Delianuova." I was not in the mood for repeating the experiences of the morning. "It is difficult. But we will try." He went in search, and returned anon with a slender lad of unusual comeliness an earthquake orphan. "This big one," he explained, "walks wherever you please and carries whatever you give him.
It was dragged up in pieces from Delianuova some seven years ago, but soon injured by frosts; it has lately been refashioned.
Pleasant to recall, assuredly; the scenery and the mountain flowers are wondrously beautiful; but I have fully realized what the men of Delianuova meant, when they said: "To Montalto, Yes; to Bova, No." Musolino will remain a hero for many long years to come. "He did his duty ": such is the popular verdict on his career. He was not a brigand, but an unfortunate a martyr, a victim of the law.
There had been no murders to speak of no, not for a long time past. But the vintage of this year, he added, promises well, and life will soon become normal again. The mule track from here to Delianuova traverses some pretty scenery, both wild and pastoral. But the personal graces of my companion made me take small heed of the landscape.
I always make friends, even in prison." I could well believe it. His affinities were with the blithe crew of the Liber Stratonis. He had a roving eye and the mouth of Antinous; and his morals were those of a condescending tiger-cub. Arriving at Delianuova after sunset, he conceived the project of accompanying me next morning up Montalto. I hesitated.
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