Read The Contessa's Vendetta for Free Online Page B

not bear to linger in these gruesome surroundings a moment longer. Throngs of beggars swarm the streets of Vicenza in every manner of rags, dirt, and misery. If taken for one of them, it would matter little to me. Whatever problems I might encounter on my way home would be short-lived.
    Satisfied that I had placed the brigand ’s treasure-filled coffin in a safe position, I hung the ship pendant round my neck. It would make a fine gift for Dario, whose fondness for gold jewelery surpassed my own. After one last glance about, I climbed out through the tunnel.
    I used the same logs and brush to disguise the opening , and then stood back to examine my handiwork. I could detect no signs that a passage lay behind it and whispered a prayer of thanks to Cesare Negri for having created such a clever cover-up. All that remained was for me to declare my identity, drink and eat something, purchase a new garment, and then return home.
    I stood on a grassy knoll and looked about. In the distance, I could see the outskirts of Vicenza. A sloping road wound toward the city and I walked in that direction. The sun beamed down with searing vibrancy on my uncovered head. With each step, my bare feet sunk into the scalding hot dust of the road. 
    Yet, I cared little about all the unpleasantness. I was ecstatic to be alive and it showed with every buoyant and jaunty step I took. Soon I would be home with Dario and Chiara. My eyes and head throbbed under the shimmering brilliance of daylight. A shiver or two ran through me as I walked - remnants of my near fatal illness, but I was confident that it would pass in a day or two. Enfolded in the loving arms of my family, I knew I would make a full recovery.
    I strode valiantly onward, at first encountering no one. Then I came upon a small fruit cart laden with baskets brimming with lemons, apricots, peaches, and melons. The driver was sleeping across the front seat, his hat over his face. His donkey munched the roadside’s green grass. Every now and then, the creature raised its head to look about and set off a delicate jingle from the small bells on its harness.
    At the rear of the cart, the fruit piled in various baskets lured me . My hunger and thirst near unbearable, I nudged the sleeping man’s foot. He awoke with a start. At the sight of me, his eyes widened with fear. He leaped down and dropped to his knees in the dust trembling. “ Madonna Mia ! Saint Peter! I implore you, per favore, spare my life.”
    I could not help myself. I burst out laughing at his ludicrous reaction. What could be so fear provoking about a small woman like me other than the filthy state of my clothing?
    “Please, do not be afraid,” I said, holding out several coins. “All I want is to buy some fruit from you.”
    Quivering, he rose and studied me with misgiving. He grabbed two peaches and three apricots and handed them to me without saying a word. The man snatched the coins from my palm, bounded back into his cart, and flogging the poor donkey until the creature kicked back with anger, clattered down the road emitting a cloud of dust in his wake. Amused at the absurdity of his terror, I watched until he disappeared from my sight. Did he think me a ghost who would raid his cart?
    I ate the ripe, sweet, refreshing fruit as I walked along. I encountered more people the closer I came to Vicenza; farmers and venders who paid me no notice. I avoided making eye contact with them and hurried past as fast as possible.
    On reaching the city ’s perimeter, I turned into the first street. Dense with houses and foul-smelling, I continued forth until I happened upon a ramshackle cottage with a broken shutter through which I noticed a shabby array of used garments hanging on strings of coarse twine.
    Among the desolate samplings of used garments, I could see many intriguing and charming objects - shells and coral, beads and bracelets, dishes carved out of wood, animal horns, painted fans, and old coins to name a few. A