Books › Blue Book v082 n01 [1945-11], 1945 › scan 6
Scan 6
Blue Book v082 n01 [1945-11], 1945
16 lines. Read by computer on 18 September 2026. No printed page number was found. See the scan on archive.org.
1layed luncheon was ready, and we decided to spend the afternoon on the plage.
3The whole thing looked rather hopeless to me. Mules! Country cousins and a feud! A woman running the place—I should have told Gondy never to have business dealings with a woman. I did not like the looks of the setup at all, but refrained from saying so. Murch felt about the same way, I could tell that. Further, Gondy's manner hinted at surprises ahead, and I do not like surprises.
5Next morning, early, half a dozen mules and muleteers appeared. We loaded aboard the Baby, which had more bulk than weight due to its magnesium construction. Gondy was condemned to carry Beppo, naturally, and he shrieked curses at us in three tongues as we got off.
7So began this day of surprises, of which our road or track was the first. It was steep, and in part was paved with rough cobbles, but huge olives shaded it and very beautiful we found it, as we mounted above the blue Mediterranean.
9It was a pleasant climb—a short two miles, till we came out above the valley of the Merula, a gentle descent ahead and an outspread view which started Gondy bubbling, in his eager way, to explain.
11Unaware of Beppo, I got a bad start on hearing from the tree above me part of the Gospel of St. John in a priestly voice. . . . The bird could imitate anyone.
13From the stony valley rose an isolated hill crowned with ruins—the former town of Andora, with its castle, now consisting of two or three cottages, heaps of rubble, and a restored little church attached to the castle débris. The river, down below, was a stony expanse broken by a bare trickle of water and a few pools, and crossed by a magnificent ancient stone bridge. A Roman work, said Gondy; the Via Aurelia, now forgotten, ran here.
15Everything, from the stones and gravel running toward the sea, to the lifting hills in the background, was desolate and empty of life. Not a peasant wagon, not a living creature, broke the dead landscape, but patches of color appeared—the dusty green of olives by the bridge, the vivid white and scarlet of oleanders along the river pools, and on beyond, Gondy pointed to a clump of eucalyptus trees adjoining the olives.
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