With him he carried a basket, which, as soon as he was
settled, gave forth an abundant meal. The gusto of his eating, the
satisfaction with which he eyed his glasses of red wine, excited my
appetite. But who _was_ he? Not, I could see, a tourist; yet how
account for this health and vigour in a native of the district? I
had not seen such a man since I set out upon my travels; the
contrast he made with the figures of late familiar to me was so
startling that I had much ado to avoid continuously gazing at him.
His proximity did me good; the man radiated health.
When next the train stopped he exchanged words with some one on the
platform, and I heard that he was going to Catanzaro. At once I
understood. This jovial, ruddy-cheeked personage was a man of the
hills. At Catanzaro I should see others like him; perhaps he fairly
represented its inhabitants. If so, I had reason for my suspicion
that poor fever-stricken Cotrone regarded with a sort of jealousy
the breezy health of Catanzaro, which at the same time is a much
more prosperous place. Later, I found that there did exist some
acerbity of mutual criticism between the two towns, reminding one of
civic rivalry among the Greeks.
Pages:
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147