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But the bride prevailed, and after the wedding she was all for starting directly down the mountain. "She wrote to her mother occasionally that it was very nice where they lived, and that Trevillo was the best of husbands. "About five or six years later, who should walk into the room where Anne-Dete was sitting but Trevillo, leading a little boy by the hand.
When the driver had convinced himself that they were all gone, he ceased his questions about the relatives, and began in another direction with, "What was your father's name?" "Henrico Trevillo of Peschiera, on the Lake of Garda."
You are the owner; it is your inheritance from your father; your home is here; your name stands in the baptismal record; you are the son of Henrico Trevillo, and he was my husband's dearest friend." Stineli had understood the whole story at the first word, and her face beamed with unspeakable happiness.
"He did not come here from the mountains; only my mother did." "Do I hear aright, Rico? Was your father born here?" "Certainly. He was a native of this place." "You never told me this before. This is wonderful. You have not a name like the people here. What was your father's name?" "What was his name? It was Henrico Trevillo." Mrs. Menotti sprang up from the seat as if she had had a shock.
"Little Rico was then about four years old, a quiet, thoughtful boy, never noisy or mischievous, and the very apple of her eye; but she died in the course of a year, and Trevillo was advised to take a cousin of hers to keep house for him and his boy." "So, so!" said the teacher when the old woman was silent, having finished her story. "I had not understood all this thoroughly before.
He had work in the Maloja, and came down here with the other boys; and he and Marie-Seppli had scarcely become acquainted before they were resolved to have each other. Naturally she wished that they should stay in the house and live with her, and Trevillo would gladly have done so. He was fond of his wife's mother, and he always did as Marie-Seppli wished him to.
So Marie-Seppli got it into her head that she must go there, and no matter how much her mother worried and fretted, and said that they could not live there, she still was bent upon going; and Trevillo himself said that as to living there she need not fear, for he had a nice little property and a house; but, for his part, he would like to see a little of the world.
In the church, Rico heard the pastor when he read out, "The deceased was called Henrico Trevillo, and was a native of Peschiera on the Lake of Garda." These words brought the feeling to Rico that he had heard something that he knew perfectly well before, and yet could not recollect. He had always seen a picture of the lake before his eyes when he had sung, "One evening In Peschiera,"
You know how my old friend Anne-Dete had lost all her children, and her husband also, and lived alone in the cottage over yonder with Marie-Seppli, who was a merry little girl. About eleven or twelve years ago Trevillo made his appearance here.
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