. . .
I was glad to descend once more, and to reach the Altipiano di
Pollino - an Alpine meadow with a little lake (the merest puddle),
bright with rare and beautiful flowers. It lies 1780 metres above
sea-level, and no one who visits these regions should omit to see this
exquisite tract encircled by mountain peaks, though it lies a little off
the usual paths. Strawberries, which I had eaten at Rossano, had not yet
opened their flowers here; the flora, boreal in parts, has been studied
by Terracciano and other Italian botanists.
It was on this verdant, flower-enamelled mead that, fatigued with the
climb, I thought to try the powers of my riding mule. But the beast
proved vicious; there was no staying on her back. A piece of string
attached to her nose by way of guiding-rope was useless as a rein; she
had no mane wherewith I might have steadied myself in moments of danger,
and as to seizing her ears for that purpose, it was out of the question,
for hardly was I in the saddle before her head descended to the ground
and there remained, while her hinder feet essayed to touch the stars.
After a succession of ignominious and painful flights to earth, I
complained to her owner, who had been watching the proceedings with
quiet interest.
"That lady-mule," he said, "is good at carrying loads. But she has never
had a Christian on her back till now. I was rather curious to see how
she would behave."
"Santo Dio! And do you expect me to pay four francs a day for having
my bones broken in this fashion?"
"What would you, sir? She is still young - barely four years old. Only
wait! Wait till she is ten or twelve."
To do him justice, however, he tried to make amends in other ways. And
he certainly knew the tracks. But he was a returned emigrant, and when
an Italian has once crossed the ocean he is useless for my purposes, he
has lost his savour - the virtue has gone out of him. True Italians will
soon be rare as the dodo in these parts. These americani cast off
their ancient animistic traits and patriarchal disposition with the ease
of a serpent; a new creature emerges, of a wholly different
character - sophisticated, extortionate at times, often practical and in
so far useful; scorner of every tradition, infernally wideawake and
curiously deficient in what the Germans call "Gemuet" (one of those
words which we sadly need in our own language). Instead of being regaled
with tales of Saint Venus and fairies and the Evil Eye, I learnt a good
deal about the price of food in the Brazilian highlands.
The only piece of local information I was able to draw from him
concerned a mysterious plant in the forest that "shines by night." I
dare say he meant the dictamnus fraxinella, which is sometimes luminous.
