Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1894-11-15
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which leads from Sorrento to Salerno.
On the narrow little back seat sat
Count Dietrich Won Dolsberg and his
bride, the lovely daughter of Counselor
Won Gumpel. They had spent three
weeks on the Riviera and along the
gulf or Naples, and for the last week
had engaged separate apartments at
the inns, and had omitted the good
night kiss. Little misunderstanding
had arisen between the newly-married
pair. The Countess Lenore was petted
child, exacting and little imperious,
and, above all, very obstinate She was
as deeply in love with her husband as
he with her, but she greatly resented
any attempt to exercise authority over
her; so now they sat side by side, cold
and silent. Count Dietrich was keenly
appreciative of the beauties of nature
and would gladly have thrown his
strong arms about her and whispered
in her pretty little ear: "Lenore, only
open your eyes and look about you;
how can you be so cold among such
scenes? How can you give yourself
up to such petty whms in the pres
ence of such grandeur and beauty?"
But he said nothing TILL at sudden
turn in the road, one of the picturesque
old Saracenic towns lay before them.
Flat-roofed gray stone houses, with
outside staircases, arched bridges over
the court-yards and narrow alleys
Then he could no longer repress an ex-
clamation of delight and surprise.
"Lenore, look! How wonderfully pic
turesquel 1t is the most enchanting
little nest in all Italy. We must stop
here. Do you hear, coachman? Drive
us to the best hotel!'
The coachman smiled pityingly. 1.-THE
best hotel! There is no choice here. l
think we had better drive on. There is
nothing here for your excellencies.
"All the same, here 1 shall stop, If I
have to sleep on straw 1 must see the
place by daylight"
The coachman protested in vain and
the young countess made a few sharp
observations on her husbands incon-
siderate self-will, but Count Dietrich
insisted on stopping.
They turned into the principal street
of the little town. An excited crowd
stood in front of one of the best houses,
shouting and screaming. The carriage
was obliged to halt, and the coachman
called out to ask what was the matter.
At least twenty voices FASTENED to sat
isfy his curiosity, but the count and
countess could only make out that
Santa Elena had something to do with
It, for Santa Elena" sounded like
Lattle-cry above the wild confusion of
tongues.
Now a door opened in the high wall
of the house and out stepped a portly
priest.
The excited crowd rushed up the
ha
back against the door, which had been
closed behind him. A hundred voices
called out n question, then stopped to
hear his answer.
The old priest shrugged his shoul-
ders and said, shaking his head,
"Nothing can be done. He is as stub
born as a donkey"
Then rose such a howl of rage that
even the Neapolitan carriage horses
well used to such demonstrations
SHE'D violently.
Fists were shaken in the air and
few stones thrown at the small win
dows in front of the house. but at last
the old priest managed to make hlm-
self heard again, and finally succeeded
in dispensing the crowd. The Golden
Eagle was only a few steps away and
the young couple soon reached 1t in
safety.
The stout little round-faced host re-
ceived his distinguished guests with
the utmost cordiality and led them
through a little orange garden and up
a. stairway, to the lodging assigned
them 1t was a lofty, vaulted room,
with glass doors at either end. The
scanty furniture was old-fashioned and
rickety and slight odor of dust and
mould filed the dim, cellar-like apart
ment. The count found this ancient
banqueting hall far more attractive
than the finest rooms in a modern
hotel but Lenore shrugged her shoul-
ders, and shifted suspiciously about.
'It is more like a potato cellar than
bedroom" said she, land looks as If
It had not been busted since the las,
century. Pah! how stiiing'
Half an. hour afterward the host
came and escorted them to supper,
which was well cooked and daintily
served. The fat, curly-headed hos,
was also cook and waiter. Count
Dietrich made up for his wifes silence
by lively conversation with the
landlord, and after praising the excel
lent supper, asked for an explanation
of the popular disturbance which he
had witnessed
"Ah, you mean the scene before
Novellfs house." answered Curly
head may the plague take-beg par
don, signore. The people have good
cause to be angry with this Signor
Novelli. The worst of it is that he Is
not only the cloth merchant. banker,
usurer, and cut-throat Novelli, but he
is also our podesta (mayor). If 1t
were not for that, you would prob
ably have seen him hung over his own
doorstep
"Ah, per Bacco, this begins to be In
teresting," said the count.
well, your excellency must know
that the day after tomorrow, the 22d
of May, is the feast of st. Elena, our
patron saint, and there are not many
little towns in Italy which can boast
such a celebration as ours on her fete
day. People flock here from all the
country round. 1t costs us hard work
and a great deal of money to do honor
to our most holy patroness. but we
have good reason to make special
effort. for our church Is lucky enough
to possess an ancient treasure which
is the envy of all Christendom. 1t IL
q solid ciIyar h1tst af the saint. ser