Did that even get a decent release or are the blu-rays still screwed up in some way? [hchcsen] has a BD rip torrent on nyaa. Futurism Studies is not a sub-branch of Italian literature of Russian art history, It is fine if thirteen children don't run down the street TWO TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ITALIAN OF ADA NEGRI— So Padre Ulivo ran on, and threw himself on his knees in the road. “What do you want?” said Dominiddio. INTRAREA DRAGONULUI BRUCE LEE DOWNLOAD UTORRENT FREE TechRepublic Premium content thinking I was. There is a log in Sign avoid requesting of. Corporate version users are innovative and a known vulnerability for files and. Of the payload, the CiscoKindle or smartphone your devices for for potential threats.
First Prev 3 of 7 Go to page. Next Highlight. HullDown A position taken up by armoured fighting vehicles. Joined Nov 8, Marissa Moira said:. Did that even get a decent release or are the blu-rays still screwed up in some way? Click to expand Happy Fish Happy Fish kiwifarms. Joined Aug 14, Joined Jul 25, Joined Apr 19, Fougaro said:. View attachment Remember what they took from you!
I blame the internet for it View attachment Like really what the fuck is this weak ass pussy shit? Joined Jul 16, I blame the internet for it. Kari Kamiya "I beat her up, so I gave her a cuck-cup. Joined Jan 12, Kuchipatchi How do you do, fellow women? Joined Aug 18, I've seen some interesting anime in this thread that I'll check out This anime didn't do too well in the Anglosphere but was a hit in Latin America and Europe. Don't skip out on it! Joined Oct 28, She would take no payment for her time, for was she not born a twin-sister?
So old Clementina attached herself to me as long as I stopped in that village; and when I left it she would write me, by means of the scrivano , long  letters full of village news, and expressions of affection in the sweet poetical Tuscan tongue. Indelibly is the remembrance of the kind hospitality of those peasants impressed on my mind.
For Clementina, although my dearest, was by no means my only friend. Such records as I have preserved I give to the public, thinking that others, too, might like to penetrate into that quiet country world, see the workings of the peasant mind in one or two of their stories, and note the curiously altered versions of childhood acquaintances or of old legends which have found their way into those remote regions: note, too, the lack of imagination, and the shrewdness visible in the tales which are indigenous.
IT was old Clementina—a white-haired, delicate-featured peasant woman, with a brightly-coloured handkerchief tied cornerwise on her head, a big ball of coarse white wool stuck on a little stick in the right-hand side of the band of her big apron, and the sock she was knitting carried in the other hand. My companion had gone down to Pistoia to do some shopping: I was alone in our rooms in the straggling primitive little village that clings to the hill among the chestnut woods above.
They wrote, she believed—well, but how did they look when they were writing, and what sort of tools did they use? Once upon a time there lived a king who had one little girl called Elisa. She was a dear little girl, and her father and mother loved her very much. But presently her mother died, and the step-mother got quite angry with jealousy of the poor little thing.
She thought and she thought what she could do to her, and at last she called a witch and said:—. The witch spirited her away into some meadows a long, long way off, in quite another country, and left her there all alone; so that poor little Elisa was very frightened. Presently there came by three fairies who loved her because she was so pretty, and asked her who she was. So they led her into another field where was a big hole.
They took her down into the hole, and there was the most beautiful palace that Elisa had ever seen in her life. Well, time went by and Elisa forgot her home, and was very happy, when one night her step-mother had a dream. She dreamt that Elisa was not dead, but alive and happy. She called the witch again, and said:—. Take some schiacciata a kind of cake , put poison in it, and take it to her. She is very fond of schiacciata , and will be sure to eat it.
Presently there came by a dog, who ate the schiacciata and immediately fell down dead. In the evening the fairies came home, took up the dog and showed him to Elisa. After a time the queen dreamt again that Elisa was alive and happy, so she called the witch and said:—. So the witch put them down and went home. Soon some sheep and a shepherd came by; the sheep saw the flowers, smelt them and became spell-bound; the shepherd went to drive off the sheep, and became spell-bound too.
When the fairies came home that night, they found the sheep and the shepherd, showed them to Elisa as a warning, and put them too into their garden. Take a pair of golden slippers this time, pianelle slippers with a covering for the toe only , bewitch them, and  take them to Elisa: those she will certainly put on.
And the queen was right. When the witch had gone away from the hole Elisa came up to look at the pretty golden pianelle. First she took them in her hands, and then she put one on, and afterwards the other. As soon as she had done it she was quite spell-bound, and could not move. When the fairies came home they were very sad. They took her up and put her into the garden, with the dog, the sheep, and the shepherd, because they did not know what else to do with her.
He looked through the garden gate, and saw Elisa. I must have her. So he went into the garden, took Elisa, carried her home, and put her into a glass case in his room. Now he spent all the time in his room; he would never come out, and would not even let the servants in to make his bed, for he loved Elisa more and more every day, and could not bear to leave her, or to let anyone else see her.
So they watched their opportunity, and one  day when the prince had gone to take the holy water, they made their way in to dust. What a beautiful woman, and what lovely slippers! While he was doing so, it moved; so he pushed it a little more, and it came off altogether.
Then he took off the other too, and immediately Elisa came back to life. When the prince came home he wanted to marry her at once; but his father said:—. Then a grand wedding feast was prepared, to which her father and step-mother were invited; and they came, not knowing who the bride was to be. When they saw Elisa, the father was very glad, but the step-mother was so angry that she went and hanged herself. Nevertheless the marriage feast went off merrily.
Elisa and the prince were very happy, and presently united the two kingdoms under their single rule. We were in the chestnut woods; I swinging lazily in my hammock, Clementina with her knitting, sitting on the grass beside me, a pretty clear pool reflecting the trees at our feet.
So she settled herself comfortably and began the following curious tale, in which ever and anon one seems to recognise a likeness to the old Greek legend of Cupid and Psyche; but a likeness all distorted in transmission through ignorant, unimaginative minds:—. Once upon a time there was a widow with three daughters. This widow was very poor, so that when a famine came over the country she and her children were almost dying with hunger, and had to go out into the fields and get grass to eat.
Once as they were looking  for food they found a beautiful golden cabbage. The eldest girl took a zappa a sort of pickaxe with only one arm to it and tried to root up the cabbage. This she could not succeed in doing, but she broke off a leaf which she took to the market, and sold for a hundred gold scudi. The next day the second daughter went, worked all day at the cabbage, and broke off two leaves. Away she went with them to the market, and got two hundred gold scudi. The third morning the youngest daughter took the zappa , and went into the field.
At the very first stroke the whole cabbage came up, and a little man jumped out of the earth; a very tiny little man he was, but beautifully dressed. He took the maiden by the hand, and led her down a flight of stairs underground. There she found herself in a beautiful palace, such as she had never dreamt of, all golden and shining. The little man gave her a bunch of keys, and said:—. You are the mistress of it. The master of it, your husband, you will not see, he will only come to you at night.
Be happy, and make no effort to look at him, or you will lose everything. If you want anything in the daytime call Monte Rochettino. With that the little man vanished. The maiden wandered all over the new dwelling, and  when it was dark she laid herself down and waited for her husband, the master of the palace.
So time went on. She loved her husband, although she had never seen him, and felt that she would be very happy if only she could know something about her mother and sisters. So the girl went home, and her mother and sisters did all they could to prove their joy at seeing her, poor things.
Then they asked her where she lived, and she told them she lived with her husband in a beautiful palace underground; but that her husband came to her at night, and she had never seen him. Then her mother said to her:—. When he is asleep, light the candle, and see what he has round his neck. The key was in the lock, she turned it, and went in. Then she went back, locked the box again, and held the candle low down to look at her husband. As she did so a drop of wax fell on his neck, and he woke.
In an instant she found herself standing above-ground, her zappa over her shoulder, and clad only in her nightdress, poor thing. They gave her some clothes and said:—. Walk all day till you come to it, and there you will find a shepherd, who will take you in for to-night. The poor girl walked all day, and in the evening came to the shepherd. He received her kindly, gave her supper and a bed, and in the morning made her some coffee and gave her breakfast.
Then he said:—. So the poor thing walked all day until she reached the second hill and found the second shepherd. He gave her supper, a bed, and coffee in the morning, and then said:—. That evening she reached the third shepherd, who treated her as the others had done. In the morning he said to her:—. In the palace lives a queen, who lost her little son, and who now receives poor women, and has them taken care of for forty days; she will be kind to you.
The queen received her kindly, and had her taken care of for forty days. Then she sent a servant, who said:—. I have nowhere to go. She did so, and out jumped a lovely little golden dog, which capered about and caressed her and fawned on her. She sent it as a present to the queen, who said:—. So the poor thing remained forty days  longer, and then the servant came again to send her away. This time she cracked the nut, and out came two beautiful golden capons. These, too, she sent to the queen, who said:—.
Then the woman cracked the walnut, and found a beautiful golden wool-winder, which she sent to the queen. Let her stop as long as she likes. Then the poor woman was glad indeed, and stayed there quietly until she gave birth to a little daughter. The servant took the baby into the kitchen to put on the swaddling-bands; while she was doing so a beautiful white dove alighted on the window-sill, and said:—.
As soon as she had heard it, she had all the  cocks in the town killed, and all the bells tied up: and the next morning she carried the babe into the kitchen herself. No sooner had she sat down than the dove alighted on her shoulder. She unswaddled the baby, and the little thing stretched out its tiny arms in joy at feeling itself free. As it did so, it touched the dove, who was instantly changed into a handsome young man.
The queen knew him for her son, the poor woman for her husband, and there was great feasting and joy in all the palace. Clementina had been doing her shopping in the village and now the two children and I were walking home with her. It was near the time of sunset, and the Apennines, blue-purple as the sun gradually dropped behind them, unrolled themselves before us, chain behind chain, as we advanced along the road with the valley on the left and the chestnut-covered hill on the right.
Once there was a woman who had two daughters: at least, one was a daughter, and the other a step-daughter. Now the daughter, named Luisa, was ugly and wicked: but the step-daughter, Teresina, was so good and beautiful that everybody loved her. This made Luisa very jealous, and she began to think what she might do to get rid of Teresina. One evening she said to her mother:—. When she got into the woodhouse she shut the door, pulled out her piece of bread, and began to eat her supper.
When she had finished her bread she began to spin, but she had not been at work long when she heard a knock at the door. So Teresina did as she was advised; and the bear went in a very short time to Paris, and came back with a dress as beautiful as the sun. But just as he arrived the sun rose, and he was obliged to go away.
Then Teresina put the chest on her head, took up her dresses, her handkerchief and her fan, and went away home with the cat and the dog. When she appeared among the trees before the house, Luisa was first of all very much disappointed, for she thought that the bear had certainly eaten her sister; but when Teresina showed all her beautiful things, then Luisa fairly cried with spite.
I will go to the woodhouse to-night and see the bear. I will, I will! So the mother gave her a nice slice of polenta with plenty of cheese, and in the evening Luisa went off, followed by the cat and dog. Then came a knock at the door. So Teresina married the prince, and afterwards became queen of the land.
So we moved off through the chestnut woods, and soon found the spring, half-hidden by the ferns and long grass. It fully deserved its name and reputation; the water was so cold and sparkling as to be almost exhilarating, and I felt a sudden new sympathy with the feeling which prompted the Greeks to such efforts to obtain the water of well-known springs.
When we had emerged from the wood on our way back, Clementina put down her flask and seated herself on a bank with her back to the sunset. We threw ourselves on the grass at her feet, and the old woman, beginning again, told us the following version of our old friend Bluebeard:—. Once upon a time there was a woman who  had three daughters. One day a sexton knocked at her door and said:—. After a while they reached a field where there was a hole in the ground.
In the hole the girl saw steps, and when they got to the bottom of these, she found herself in the most beautiful palace she had ever seen. I shall be away all day, but shall come back every evening; so you need not be lonely. While I am away you may amuse yourself as you like. Here are the keys; you can explore the whole palace except the room which this key opens; there you are never to go.
When it is cloudy, I shall know you have opened the door. For some days the girl was quite happy exploring the wonders of this underground palace; but little by little she began to want  to see what was in the room which was forbidden her; and at last the desire to open that door quite overcame her dread of punishment.
She put in the key, turned it, pushed open the door, and went in. She found herself in a marble courtyard opening on to a beautiful garden. In the middle of the courtyard was a pond, in which was swimming a lovely gold-red fish. But the fish bit her so sharply that she withdrew her hand immediately, and then she saw that the ring was covered with blood. She rubbed and rubbed, but the blood would not come off; the ring was stained and cloudy, and sadly she went out, locking the door behind her.
She tried to hide her hand, but it was no good. He looked at the ring, and then cut off her head, and put head and body against one of the columns in the marble courtyard. But when the second daughter came to him he treated her as he had done the first.
He  carried her off to the underground palace, gave her the keys, and a ring, and told her, too, that she might do anything she liked, except open that door. It happened to the second as it had done to the first. She got tired of wandering about the palace with nothing to do, opened the door, and went into the marble courtyard.
She, too, tried to catch the fish; she, too, was bitten; her ring became cloudy, and she was beheaded and put beside her sister. Then the man returned, and carried away the youngest girl. Now the youngest is always cleverer than her elder sisters; and so it happened in this case. After she had spent some time in the palace, she, too, determined to open the forbidden door.
So she took off her ring, put it in her work-basket, and went in. She tried to catch the fish, as her sisters had done, and then began to wander about. When it was near evening she left the courtyard, put on her ring, and went to meet her husband as brightly and cheerfully as ever.
Every day, as soon as her husband was gone, the girl took her work into the garden and sat there, knitting or playing with the fish, but she was unhappy because of her sisters. One morning as she was at work she saw  a little lizard without a tail; the tail was lying on the ground beside it.
She watched the creature and saw it bite a leaf off a certain plant, turn its head over its back, and touch its body and its tail with the leaf. Instantly tail and body grew together, and the lizard ran off quite merrily. Then she took them upstairs and hid them. She is old and poor, and now there is no one to work for her or take care of her.
Let me go and see her. So the girl put linen and gold into a chest. Then she made her eldest sister get in, and shut down the lid. Go straight there and back again, for I want you at home. The man put the chest on his head and set  off. After a time he began to want to put down his burden for a little, and said to himself:—. She can see me even through a hill. And how fond of me she is! She knows what I am doing wherever I am.
A little while after the second sister was sent home in the same way, and now the girl began to think how she could get away herself. One evening she said to her husband:—. I shall get everything ready to-night. I have to make the bread. The man went off to bed, and the girl set to work. She made a great doll of dough and put it in her bed; then she put clothes and money into the chest, crept in herself, and pulled down the lid. No answer. So he crept on tiptoe to her bedside, saw the figure under the clothes, and went out as quietly as he had gone in.
Then he took the chest and started. Still no answer. Then he found that there was no wife there, but only a figure of dough, and that he was alone once more in his underground palace. Clementina had enticed me to her cottage with the promise of country beans cooked in country fashion, to be followed by a story under the chestnut woods. So at about four in the afternoon, when the heat of the day was over in the breezy mountain village, I sauntered through the street, past the swarming black-eyed children, and the cheerful, smiling washerwomen busy at the tank under the pump, out on the white road beyond; and, gazing now at the landscape on the left, now at the ever-varying forms of the Apennines before me—.
There stood the cluster of smoke-blackened cottages, with the large patch of rye, beans, etc. Before me was a flight of stairs which might have been washed towards the end of the last century: on the right the kitchen; and, dim in the blue, arching wood-smoke, Clementina, with eyes as bright as ever under her kerchief; and sprightly little Nella, barefooted, and, still more extraordinary, bareheaded.
It was a large, low room, with stone walls and a gaping plank ceiling, which formed also the floor of the room above, all encrusted with the black lichen-like deposit, harder than the stone itself, produced by the smoke of wood-fires. In one corner was a tiny window, and on the same side with it the hearth, with a wooden roof over it in lieu of chimney.
The wood-fire, the cat, the red pipkin with the old woman bending over it, formed a pretty interior against the dark shadows of the great stack of brushwood which, with a flight of very rickety stairs, occupied the further end of the room. You can go up if you like, but I advise you not to.
It need hardly be said that I did not go up. Above the tables was the one patch of colour on the black walls—a coloured print or so of saints, a couple of rosaries, and a tiny hanging tin lamp. The old woman spread a coarse, newly-washed table-napkin on the space she had cleared, and placed on it a hunch of bread brought that morning from the village , one glass, a little bottle of oil, and some salt in a piece of paper.
The wicker-covered water-flask was put on the ground beside us; three chairs were produced, and three soup-plates, with brass spoons. The one glass did duty for all three of us, being rinsed out with a peculiar jerk on to the stone floor after each had drunk. So Clementina took up her knitting, and, locking the door behind us, we went out into the fresh, sweet evening air.
We sat down under a huge chestnut tree. A number of little girls came clustering around us, busily engaged in making chestnut-leaf pockets for their wild strawberries and whortle-berries, and the old woman began:—.
Once upon a time there was a poor woman who had one daughter. One day, as this daughter was out in the forest getting firewood she struck her axe into a hollow tree. As soon as she had done so, a beautiful lady appeared and said to her:—. I will take care of you, and give you everything you want. So the little girl said yes, she would go, and the lady, who was really a fairy, took her to a beautiful palace.
You may do what you like and go where you like in this palace. So the girl lived for some time in the palace in the forest, and grew more and more beautiful every day. He rode round trying to find a door, but there was none. At the end of the week the prince came with a great train of carriages and courtiers to fetch his bride, and the girl was so dazzled by the splendour, and excited at the thought of marrying the prince, that she forgot to say good-bye to the fairy, and forgot her box till she was in the carriage.
Then she suddenly remembered it, jumped out, and ran upstairs to the cupboard where she had put it. Now this was a cupboard in the wall, and the door pushed up as a shutter might do. The girl raised the door and put her head in to look for the box, when bang! Then the cupboard door was raised, and the girl went downstairs. The prince made her get into the carriage, and then pulled down all the blinds, so that no one might see his ugly bride; and when he got home he had her put into the sheep stable.
So he brought some wool and said:—. The three women set to work immediately and span and span with all their might; but the poor girl in the stable threw hers into the gutter and sat down to cry, while the others came and mocked her. The next day the whole court was assembled and the three women gave their skeins of wool, and then the prince turned to the girl and said:—. There was a skein of the finest wool that could be imagined, and all said that the sheep had done best. So the three women took their puppies, and brushed them and combed them and washed them and fed them, till they were so fat they could hardly move; but the poor girl let hers run away.
The next day the whole court was assembled again. The three women presented their dogs,  which waddled about and behaved very dirtily and badly. Out jumped the most lovely tiny dog, with a golden collar and golden tinkling bells; he fawned upon the king and the prince, and quite won their hearts by his pretty manners. All that week the three women washed themselves, and scented themselves, and rubbed themselves till they rubbed the skin off, and pomaded their hair till it shone like a looking-glass; but the girl sat among the sheep and wept.
The next morning the three women with their grand dresses, and their pomade, and their scent, strutted boldly in before the court and the prince. Soon the door opened and the room was filled with a blaze of light, as the beautiful maiden, sheep no longer, entered and knelt humbly before the king. So a grand wedding-feast was prepared, and this time the girl did not forget to say good-bye to the fairy who had been so kind to her.
Stranger yet, perhaps, is the survival of the old pagan spirit, the haunting echo of old pagan legend, which any visitor to the hills of Tuscany may verify. Let him join the peasants as they meet now in one house, now in another, to spend the long winter evenings round the fire; or let him stroll, in the early autumn, into some low, dark kitchen where neighbours sit among piles of chestnut twigs, busily stripping off the leaves and making them into bundles for winter use in the baking of chestnut cakes necci.
There, among stornelli and rispetti , he may well chance upon some such shrewd, quaint tale as the following:—. Once upon a time there was a man called Padre Ulivo. He was always cheerful, always singing, and very fond of good company. He had a barrel of wine in the cellar, and every  evening his friends used to come and see him, sit round the fire, eat, drink, sing, and lead a merry life.
But at last the barrel was empty, and all his provisions run out, so that he had nothing more to offer to those who came, and all his pleasant evenings were at an end. Now everyone avoided him, and his cottage grew dull and lonely. One night he had just enough flour left for one small cake. So he made the schiacciata , ate half of it, and got into bed. He had not been there long before he heard a knock at the door. How can I give you that when I have nothing in the house!
I made a little schiacciata of my last flour this evening. So Padre Ulivo opened the cupboard, and found it quite full of meat and bread, and everything nice. Quite full! Indeed it is not because I am greedy. I have none left. He did so, and immediately there spurted out such a stream of wine as knocked him right against the opposite wall. So he put the mattress on the floor, spread sheets on it, and they slept comfortably, some on the mattress and some on the bed.
The next morning the men went away, and Padre Ulivo accompanied them for some little distance on their journey, walking behind with one who was especially friendly. Go and ask him a favour. But go and ask another favour quickly. Remember you are speaking to Dominiddio. Go again, you will get one more favour; but mind you ask for something really good for yourself. What do you want? Now his jolly times began again. His barrel of wine never ran dry, and his cupboard never grew empty.
Everybody came to see him. They ate, drank, and led a merry life. Well, I was just beginning to fear you had forgotten me, and to wonder where you could be. So Death sat down on the chair in the chimney-corner, while Padre Ulivo piled on wood and made a splendid blaze. Oh, oh! Things went on as usual for the hundred years, with feasting and merry-making.
But at last, as Padre Ulivo was among his friends, Death appeared again. But let us have a feast of figs first. See what splendid fruit there! Go up and help yourself; I am too old to climb. The Devil got very angry and spit flames of fire from sheer rage, as he saw the crowd of souls collecting round Padre Ulivo. Padre Ulivo, take your souls and be off.
I have had enough of you. He ought to do the same by me. Surely a tale of this kind is an eloquent commentary on the mind of the people who have preserved it. At the same time, the story itself suggests a curious feeling that we have to do with Jupiter and Mercury transformed in the crucible of Christian history and Catholic dogma. The transformation is an instructive one in many ways, and it would be interesting to know whether it has taken place in any other country besides Italy.
We were sitting in the little kitchen garden beside the bean-vines, and as we chatted his eye roamed continually over the valley and the hills beyond, with the expression of one accustomed to render an account to himself of all he saw.
He told me of his life as foreman to the great landowner of that part of the country; of his journeyings from one outlying farm to another, to collect the half of the farm-produce which is the due of the owner of the soil; of his experiences as head forester down in Maremma; of the power of the priests in his young days, the days of the Archduke Peter Leopold. There were Giovanni and Sandro, lived opposite the post office, in that house with a  railing—you know it?
At last he asked me if I should like a story. Once upon a time there was a knight who had three beautiful daughters. Now this knight determined to go to the Holy Land to fight for the tomb of our Lord, but he did not know what to do with his three daughters. He had a tall tower built, with three bedrooms and a sitting-room at the top of it; he locked the door at the foot and provided his daughters with a basket and a long rope with which to draw up their food.
Then he gave each girl a diamond ring, and said:—. A little while after he had gone, the eldest daughter going to draw up the basket one morning, saw a poor man down below shivering with cold. So the girl bade the man get into the basket, drew him up, made a blazing fire, warmed him thoroughly, and gave him some dinner. Now the younger sisters are always more cunning than the elder ones, and this was no exception to the rule.
Now the tower had been built in a hurry and the floors were of plank only, not of brick or stone. Of this the maiden took advantage. The man ran to do so, but fell down the hole to the bottom of the tower; and as it was a high one he was killed by the fall. The next morning the three sisters looked at their rings, but only that of the youngest was bright, the others were dull and clouded.
Presently their father came back. They did as their sister advised, and he was quite satisfied. Then they all went home to live in their old house and had a merry time of it. This saying was repeated to the prince who married the girl and almost immediately afterwards became king. But he had not been king long before a terrible war broke out, and he had to leave his bride and go far away to fight.
He put her under the charge of his mother, with strict injunctions that he should receive information as to whether his wife had kept her promise or not. Now the queen-mother was a wicked woman, who hated her daughter-in-law because she was not a princess by birth, but only the daughter of a poor knight; and the two elder sisters also hated the queen, being jealous of her, because they had to bow before her and do her homage. So these three women consulted together, and sent for a wicked witch to help them injure the poor queen.
The queen had three children as she had promised, two boys and a girl, each with the red cross of a knight on his chest; but as soon as they were born, the witch let three black puppies run about the room, and took away the children  and put them on the river-bank in the forest hard by. Then she sent word to the king:—. But the witch and the queen-mother changed the letter into:—.
Now we will go back to the children. In the forest there lived a hermit; he heard small voices crying, went and looked, and found the little ones. He took them to his hut, and tended them, and they grew up like flowers, fine and strong, with the red cross always in front.
After a time the king returned from the wars; and, when he reached his palace, saw his wife at the foot of the stairs and heard all that had been done to her. At first he was angry, but they persuaded him that it was all as it should be, and he left his queen there, thin and ill. Still he was very unhappy, and to console himself he went out hunting. There were the children, beautiful as flowers, each with the red cross. With that he went home and told what had happened.
So the queen-mother called the witch, and said:—. And so loud a dispute arose that the king came himself; and when he heard what was the matter, he brought them in gladly, and made them sit down at table. Then the witch who was there told a wicked lie. After the seven days were gone the second brother determined to try his luck, as the first had not yet returned. He, too, met the hermit, received the same question, gave the same answer, and rode away.
Now another seven days had elapsed, and the sister resolved to set out; but first she asked the advice of the fairy. So when she reached the old man she told him about the quest on which her brothers and herself had set out. Will you? Throw the cakes to the lions and strike the door with the rod; it will open and in the hall you will see a beautiful girl.
She will tell you what you want to know. So the maiden thanked the hermit and rode off. There you will find a bird which will come fluttering round your head and shoulders. That bird is the Sound and Song of the Lovely Sibyl. The maiden went into the garden and sure enough the bird came fluttering round her as though asking to be caught. But she did not attempt to touch it till it had settled in her lap; then she held it fast with both hands, and the bird said:—.
Those two there are your brothers. Go and touch them with the rod you hold in your hand. The maiden did as she was bid; her brothers returned to life and they all went away together, carrying the bird with them. When they reached home the fairy said:—. Put the bird in a box and carry it with you; and when  the king asks for it, put it on the table, that it may declare the wickedness of the dowager-queen, and the innocence of your mother.
So the next day the three went to the palace and were invited to dine with the king. There were the queen-mother and the witch also present. They opened the box, and the Sound and Song of the Lovely Sibyl flew on to the table and told the whole black tale of deceit. This story was told me by a woman who lives here in Genoa during the winter, but goes up into the mountains for the summer.
Not far from the villa where she goes in the summer, a stream makes a pool where the women go to do their washing. The pool is surrounded by stones and rocks, and once when the women were washing they noticed a very large snake biscia gliding among the rocks. They watched him and saw that at a certain place he stopped, put something down behind a stone, and went away.
The women went to look, and found his poison like two little horns. In the evening he came back, went to the place where he had hidden his fangs, found them, and fixed them in position again. This happened several days in succession, until one of the women suggested that they should steal the poison-fangs, and see what happened.
So the next day they took them into the house with them, and stood at the window to watch the  biscia. And the women were watching him all the time from the window. After a while he was so overcome with despair that he gave his head an extra hard knock and split open his skull so that he died.
This that I am going to tell you now, the old woman went on, happened when my great grandfather was a little boy. My grandfather used to tell it to my father before he left his native place to marry my mother; for my mother had no brothers, so my father came to live in her country. When my great grandfather was quite young, all the children used to be called in from the streets at sundown, lest they should be frightened by the black horse and his rider who for some time tormented that part of the country.
This is the story of the ghost:—. There was in that village a man named Pomo, who was so lazy that he did not like to work; so he said:—. So he went into other districts where no one knew him, and said that he could heal people. But instead he only made them die all the more; and at last he died too. One evening soon after his death, his relations were sitting quietly in their house when they heard a great noise, and looking out, saw all the air full of  crows. This went on for several evenings; the house was surrounded by these birds, which flew hither and thither cawing loudly, and then vanished.
At last one evening there were no crows, but they suddenly heard a great clattering of hoofs in the street. They went to the window and looked out and saw a terrible black horse with a man riding on him. The horse came to the doorsteps, put his nose down to the ground, and stood there some time, while the man looked imploringly at the terrified people, but did not speak. The next evening the horse came again. This time he stood on the threshold, with his nose against the door, but the man did not speak.
In the morning the people went to tell the parroco and beg him to save them from the devil, for they were sure the black horse could be no other. The parroco lived some way off, but he said:—. That night as soon as the hoofs were heard someone ran off to the parroco , and the rest huddled into the kitchen so that they might not see the dreadful sight. But the horse came upstairs, and stood there close by the fire with his nose on the ground and the man hid his face on the horse.
As soon as they heard him coming up the people were so frightened that they jumped  out of window, all but one very old woman who feared the fall more than the horse. Just then the priest came and asked the man, in the name of God, what he wanted. The man answered:—.
But when they got among the chestnut trees there was a great noise, and flames of fire; and so the horse and rider vanished. Well, the next day the parroco tried to get someone to serve the mass, but he had great difficulty, as everyone was afraid of making a mistake and getting carried off to hell; but at last he persuaded a priest to help him, and towards midnight the two went to the church.
The horse and rider stood in the entrance of the west door, and the two priests read mass, with their backs to the altar. They got through without mistake and the devil and the condemned soul disappeared and were never seen again; but the priest who had served the mass was taken up stiff and dumb with terror, and it was many weeks before he  could speak again. The parroco was less affected; but there was a strange glitter in his eyes for some days; and it was long before he could trust himself to talk of that night.
These stories of demon-steeds are not uncommon in the South. I had left Clementina and the little ones behind me, and had moved further up among the Apennines to a village which, perched on a low hill, overlooks the river and the winding valley. The summits of the mountains all around rise bare and scarped from dark pine and ash woods, while their bases are clothed with chestnuts.
Many a long line of soldiers have the villagers seen marching up the valley on the other side of the river which flows at their feet: for the pass is an important one, being the high road from Tuscany into the Modenese. Napoleon III. One old woman,  for instance, whose husband had saved himself on the ill-fated expedition by cutting open a horse and getting inside it, firmly believed that le petit Caporal had perished miserably at Moscow, pickled in a barrel of salt!
Nor are more ancient historical associations wanting. At a very little distance lies the village of Gavinana where the lion-hearted Francesco Ferruccio, trying to burst through the mountains from Pisa to the relief of Florence, was betrayed in to the Prince of Orange. In still more ancient times Catiline passed up the valley when trying to force the Apennines; and the public square bears the name of Piazza Catilina in honour of the monster whom Sallust took so much pains to delineate.
Legends of classical Italian literature, too, still linger here. I asked one of my peasant acquaintances why it was so called, and who Orlando was. The answer was amusing as showing the country conception of  the temper and achievements of a knight-errant:—. He took a tremendous leap from the top of the hill down into the village below, but he left his hat behind him. Another informant evidently attributed to Orlando the time-annihilating hat for which Carlyle sighs so vainly; for she added to the original story a rider, saying that Orlando, after his marvellous leap, went to Gavinana and was killed fighting against Ferruccio.
Remembrances of an older classical literature than Ariosto abound also. The Muses, Helicon, Troy, are common words among these peasants, whether in speech or in song. As is mostly the case in Tuscany, the country people are devout; that is to say, they go to mass on Sundays, firmly believe in miracles, and miracle-working images, and are fond of walking in procession.
The church of Cutigliano, the village in which I was staying, rejoices in the possession of the entire skeletons of two saints, and of two valuable palladiums—a Madonna which preserves the place from  epidemics, and a crucifix which regulates the supply of rain. On the Feast of the Madonnina, the first of the palladiums is carried in state through the village, the peasants flocking in from all the hamlets near to join in the procession and chant their Ave Marias.
The figure is of wood, highly painted, dressed in light blue robes, ornamented with tinsel, and with rings and rosaries on the outstretched hands. I love that Madonnina; she saved us from the cholera and from diphtheria. They came right to the foot of the hill, but did not touch us. We took her in procession through the village, and where she passed there was no illness. Each village in the valley has its own special saint, whose feast is the great event of the year, and is observed with more honour than any other festival.
Brass bands are borrowed from other villages which are fortunate or unfortunate enough to possess them, and the peasants flock in new dresses and bright kerchiefs to walk in procession, pray to the saint, eat, drink, and dance. These feasts are sometimes the occasion of amusing outcrops of the old pagan spirit.
Last year, for example, there was a quarrel between the inhabitants of this village, and those of another, further down the valley. Brass bands were borrowed, fireworks bought, a huge balloon manufactured, a ball arranged for the evening; no pains were spared, in fact, to render the feast so attractive that even the protection of the saint herself could not draw visitors to fill the purses of her legitimate worshippers.
Who can say that paganism is dead in this 19th century? Images, too, and small cushion-like hearts blessed by the priest on that special day, are supposed to be of peculiar efficacy against evil. Without the latter, the so-called benediction , no mother will dress her child. I once asked how the young women were chosen who carry the banner of the Madonna in the procession.
On St. The village is perched right on the ridge of a chain of hills, bowered in apple-trees and surrounded by chestnut woods. Outside the church is a large cross of black wood, which the more rigorous kiss before entering; for it was left them, long years back,  as the story goes, by a saint-like friar who journeyed through the land preaching to the people.
The Feast of St. Nicholas occurring shortly before I left Tuscany, I resolved to see what was to be seen, and passed the previous night at a farm-house, which, lying higher than my village, was somewhat nearer to the scene of action. A magnificent thunder-storm rendered sleep impossible, and lit up the surrounding hills with wondrous beauty. Our party was soon materially increased, however, for we emerged from the chestnut woods on to the road just as a band of men, with three horses, bound for the same village, were passing the farm-house.
They were charcoal burners, and the horses were those poor thin beasts which make their way along impossible roads up and down the mountains, loaded with two great sacks of charcoal. Everything was changed to-day, however. They wore clean shirts, and bright ties, and carried their best coats flung over their arms. The horses, also, no longer carried charcoal: a single sack, knobbly with parcels for various farm-houses, or with things to be sold at the fair, lay across the pack-saddle, and was tied down with a rope.
It certainly did not look inviting, but I determined to try, nevertheless. So the horse was made to stand by a stone wall, and up I got; on the wrong side, of course—there was no help for that. The road was like all hillside roads; now up, now down, now of large slippery stones, now of loose rolling small ones; and when the horse took to making glissades down the former and catching his feet in the latter, I did not find a knobbly charcoal sack, without pommel, stirrup, or bridle, the most pleasant of pleasant seats.
However I held on bravely by the wooden front of the pack-saddle, and saved my legs if I exercised my arms and back.
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