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Updated: May 16, 2025
The gods willed otherwise. Then, leaving that hospitable dame, we strolled forth along a winding road a good road, once more ever upwards, under the bare chestnuts. At last the watershed was reached and we began a zigzag descent towards the harbour of Monterosso, meeting not a soul by the way. Snow lay on these uplands; it began to fall softly.
So passed an hour of glad confidences in that abandoned shelter with the snowflakes drifting in upon us one of those hours that sweeten life and compensate for months of dreary harassment. A long descent, past some church or convent famous as a place of pilgrimage, led to the strand of Monterosso where the waves were sparkling in tepid sunshine.
Would I might meet him again, that genial person: I never shall! He asked: "You two do you really understand each other?" On our homeward march he pointed to some spot, barely discernible among the hills on our left. That was where he lived. His mother would be honoured to see me. We might walk on to Monterosso afterwards. Couldn't I manage it? To be sure I could. And the very next day.
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