Lucia Rudini Part 10

"Pin?" Lucia exclaimed impatiently, "I don't understand, you will have to come. Listen, the Austrians are just a little way off across the river, they must not cross the bridge."

Roderigo was alert at once. The light came back into his eyes and his body stiffened.

"What are you saying?" he demanded. "Do you mean, they are coming from that side?"

"Yes," Lucia exclaimed, "there is no time to spare; hurry, I will help you."

She put her strong, young arm about his waist, and by leaning most of his weight on her shoulder he managed to crawl along. Lucia was half crazy with impatience, but she suited her step to his, and helped him all she could.

At last they reached the lower door. She opened it hurriedly and the bridge was in sight, but so were the Austrians. They were so near that what had seemed one solid ma.s.s now resolved itself into individual shapes. To Lucia it seemed as if a great sea of men were rushing down upon them.

The exertion from the walk made Roderigo sway, and just before they reached the bridge he fell forward. Lucia crouched down beside him, and begged and pulled until he was on the bridge.

"Now where is it? Tell me what to do," she begged, "see they are almost here."

With a tremendous effort Roderigo pulled himself to the edge of the bridge and located the mine. In a voice that was so weak that Lucia could hardly hear it he gave the directions. Lucia obeyed.

"When will it go off?" she demanded. "Will we have time to get away?"

Roderigo shrugged his shoulders.

"You will," he said. "Run as fast as you can, I don't know how long it will take."

Lucia did not wait to argue. She caught him under his arms and dragged him back to the convent as fast as she could.

Roderigo had given up all hope, but as they drew nearer to the door of the convent, the wish to live a.s.serted itself, and he got to his feet and ran with Lucia. They did not stop until they were safe on the road beyond. The last inhabitant of Cellino was out of sight, and it seemed as if they were alone.

They waited, Lucia supporting Roderigo's head in her arms.

The explosion came, there was a crash, and then a great shaking of the earth. Lucia listened, her eyes flashing.

"Wait here," she said to Roderigo, "I will return at once." She ran hurriedly back to the convent and down again to the door.

The old bridge was ruined. Great pieces of it were torn out and had fallen high on the banks. The center span was entirely gone, and the river, broad and impa.s.sable, ran smoothly between the jagged ends.

Lucia did not stand long in contemplation of the scene before her. She hurried back to the road. A sister was beside Roderigo, and Lucia went to her.

"It is not safe back in there," she said, pointing to the convent. "A sh.e.l.l may hit it."

The sister nodded.

"It hardly matters," she replied quietly. "No place is safe. We will take him there; he is too ill to be carried far."

Lucia agreed, and between them they carried the unconscious Roderigo back to the ward and laid him gently on one of the beds.

Sister Francesca turned back the cuffs of her robe and began doing what she could. As she worked she talked.

"We were all ordered to leave," she said; "but when we were well along the road I turned back. It seemed so cowardly to go when we were most needed. The rest thought that by night the Austrians would be in possession, but I could not believe it."

She was a little woman with a soft voice and big blue eyes, and she spoke with such gentle a.s.surance that Lucia felt comforted.

"They will not come to-night," she said, "for the bridge is down, and our troops will surely be able to force them back."

Sister Francesca nodded.

"I hope so. At any rate, there will be wounded and my place is here."

At the word "wounded," the vivid picture of the smoke-choked valley, the sh.e.l.l explosion, and the still form of the Italian soldier flashed before Lucia's mind.

"What am I doing here?" she said impatiently. "There are wounded now and perhaps we can save them."

She did not offer any further explanation, but slipped out of the big room and hurried back to the road once more.

The sun had set and twilight gleamed patchy through the clouds of smoke. It was still light enough to see, and Lucia hurried to the gate. The first sight that she had of Cellino made her stop and shudder. The church was in ruins, and every pane of gla.s.s was broken in the entire village. In their haste the refugees had thrown their belongings out of their windows to the street below, and then had gone off and left them. Great piles of furniture and broken china littered the way, and stalls had been tipped over in the market place.

No one stopped Lucia; the town was deserted. She ran hurriedly across to the North Gate, afraid of the ghostly shadows and unnatural sights.

At the gate a splendid sight met her eyes.

From the convent she had only seen the Austrians, the wall had cut off her view of the west. But now she commanded a view of the whole field, and to her joy the Italians were advancing as steadily from the west as the Austrians from the east. They would meet at the river, and at the memory of the bridge Lucia threw back her head and laughed. It was not a merry laugh, but a grim triumphant one, and it held all the relief that she felt.

But, splendid as the sight before her was, she did not stay long to look at it. Below, somewhere in the valley, the Italian soldier of the shining white teeth and the pennies was lying wounded, or dead, and nothing could make Lucia stop until she found him.

The heavy artillery fire had let up a little, and the sh.e.l.ls were not quite so many.

Lucia started to run. She had made up her mind earlier in the day that if she moved fast enough she would escape being hurt. She unconsciously blamed the slowness of the Italian soldier for his injury. She pa.s.sed her cottage half-way down the hill. It was still standing, but a sh.e.l.l had dropped on the little goat-shed and blown it to pieces. One of the uprights and the door, which was made of stout branches lashed together with cord, still stood. The door flapped drearily and added to the desolation of the scene.

Lucia did not stop to investigate the damage, but hurried ahead. She was afraid the light would fade before she reached the wounded soldier.

At the end of the road in the bottom of the valley she was just between both sides, the sh.e.l.ls dropped all about her and she stood still, bewildered and frightened.

The high mountains on either side made sounding boards for the noise, and the roar of the guns seemed to double in volume.

"Lie down!"

A voice almost under her foot made her jump, and she saw the Italian soldier. She did as he commanded, and he pulled her towards him.

He was very weak, and when he moved one leg dragged behind him. He tried to crawl with Lucia into the sh.e.l.l hole close by. She saw what he was doing and did her best to help. When they finally rolled down into the sh.e.l.l hole, the man groaned.

Lucia could feel that his forehead was wet with great drops of perspiration. She found his water bottle and gave him a drink.

"What's happened?" he asked, speaking close to her ear.

Lucia told him as much as she knew.

"Then the bridge has gone?" There was hope in his voice.

"Gone for good. They can never cross it, and our men are just over there."