rought from England. There was a
battered photograph of Lord Leighton, among others. The fourth room,
approached through the corn-chamber, was always locked.

Outside was just as hopeless. There had been a little garden within
the stone enclosure. But fowls, geese, and the ass had made an end
of this. Fowl-droppings were everywhere, indoors and out, the ass
left his pile of droppings to steam in the winter air on the
threshold, while his heartrending bray rent the air. Roads there
were none: only deep tracks, like profound ruts with rocks in them,
in the hollows, and rocky, grooved tracks over the brows. The hollow
grooves were full of mud and water, and one struggled slipperily
from rock to rock, or along narrow grass-ledges.

What was to be done, then, on mornings that were dark with sleet?
Pancrazio would bring a kettle of hot water at about half-past
eight. For had he not travelled Europe with English gentlemen, as a
sort of model-valet! Had he not _loved_ his English gentlemen? Even
now, he was infinitely happier performing these little attentions
for Alvina than attending to his wretched domains.

Ciccio rose early, and went about in the hap-hazard, useless way of
Italians all day long, getting nothing done. Alvina came out of the
icy bedroom to the black kitchen. Pancrazio would be gallantly
heating milk for her, at the end of a long stick. So she would sit
on the settle and drink her coffee and milk, into which she dipped
her dry bread. Then the day was before her.

She washed her cup and her enamelled plate, and she tried to clean
the kitchen. But Pancrazio had on the fire a great black pot,
dangling from the chain. He was boiling food for the eternal
pig--the only creature for which any cooking was done. Ciccio was
tramping in with faggots. Pancrazio went in and out, back and forth
from his pot.

Alvina stroked her brow and decided on a method. Once she was rid of
Pancrazio, she would wash every cup and plate and utensil in boiling
water. Well, at last Pancrazio went off with his great black pan,
and she set to. But there were not six pieces of crockery in the
house, and not more than six cooking utensils. These were soon
scrubbed. Then she scrubbed the two little tables and the shelves.
She lined the food-chest with clean paper. She washed the high
window-ledges and the narrow mantel-piece, that had large mounds of
dusty candle-wax, in deposits. Then she tackled the settle. She
scrubbed it also. Then s