David Herbert Lawrence

was coming by the time they reached the river. At the high-road,

Pancrazio harnessed the ass, and after endless delay they jogged off

to Ossona. The dawning mountains were wonderful, dim-green and mauve

and rose, the ground rang with frost. Along the roads many peasants

were trooping to market, women in their best dresses, some of thick

heavy silk with the white, full-sleeved bodices, dresses green,

lavender, dark-red, with gay kerchiefs on the head: men muffled in

cloaks, treading silently in their pointed skin sandals: asses with

loads, carts full of peasants, a belated cow.

The market was lovely, there in the crown of the pass, in the old

town, on the frosty sunny morning. Bulls, cows, sheep, pigs, goats

stood and lay about under the bare little trees on the platform high

over the valley: some one had kindled a great fire of brush-wood,

and men crowded round, out of the blue frost. From laden asses

vegetables were unloaded, from little carts all kinds of things,

boots, pots, tin-ware, hats, sweet-things, and heaps of corn and

beans and seeds. By eight o'clock in the December morning the market

was in full swing: a great crowd of handsome mountain people, all

peasants, nearly all in costume, with different head-dresses.

Ciccio and Pancrazio and Alvina went quietly about. They bought pots

and pans and vegetables and sweet-things and thick rush matting and

two wooden arm-chairs and one old soft arm-chair, going quietly and

bargaining modestly among the crowd, as Anglicized Italians do.

The sun came on to the market at about nine o'clock, and then, from

the terrace of the town gate, Alvina looked down on the wonderful

sight of all the coloured dresses of the peasant women, the black

hats of the men, the heaps of goods, the squealing pigs, the pale

lovely cattle, the many tethered asses--and she wondered if she

would die before she became one with it altogether. It was

impossible for her to become one with it altogether. Ciccio would

have to take her to England again, or to America. He was always

hinting at America.

But then, Italy might enter the war. Even here it was the great

theme of conversation. She looked down on the seethe of the market.

The sun was warm on her. Ciccio and Pancrazio were bargaining for

two cowskin rugs: she saw Ciccio standing with his head rather

forward. Her husband! She felt her heart die away within her.

All those other peasant women, did they feel as she did?--the same

sort of acquiescent passion, the same lapse of life? She believed

they did. The same helpless passion for the man, the same remoteness

from the world's actuality? Probably, under all their tension of

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