“Oh, if only it would die!” said the woman.
But the dragon would not make up its mind to die even though Count Gerol, suddenly maddened by the desire to conclude the business once and for all, shot at it with his rifle. Two shots. In vain. The dragon continued to lick its dead children; ever more slowly, yet surely, a whitish liquid was welling up in its unhurt eye.
“The saurian!” exclaimed Professor Inghirami. “Look, it’s crying!”
The governor said, “It’s late. That’s enough, Martino, it’s time to go.”
Seven times the monster raised its voice, and the rocks and sky resounded. The seventh time it seemed as though the sound were never going to end, but then it suddenly ceased, dropped like a plumb line, vanished into silence.
In the deathly quiet that followed there was a sound of coughing. Covered with dust, his face drawn with effort, weariness and emotion, Count Gerol, throwing his rifle down among the stones, came across the debris coughing, with one hand pressed to his chest.
“What is it?” asked Andronico, no longer joking but with a strange presentiment of disaster. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing,” said Gerol, trying to sound unconcerned. “I just swallowed a bit of that smoke.”
“What smoke?”
Gerol didn’t reply but indicated the dragon with his hand. The monster was lying still, its head stretched out on the stones; except for the two slight plumes of smoke, it looked very dead indeed.
“I think it’s all over,” said Andronico.
It did indeed seem so. The last breath of obstinate life was coming from the dragon’s mouth.
No one had answered his call, no one in the whole world had responded. The mountains were quite still, even the diminutive landslides seemed to have been reabsorbed, the sky was clear without the slightest cloud and the sun was setting. No one, either from this world or the next, had come to avenge the massacre. Man had blotted out this last remaining stain from the world, man so powerful and cunning that wherever he goes he establishes wise laws for maintaining order, irreproachable man who works so hard for the cause of progress and cannot bring himself to allow the survival of dragons, even in the heart of the mountains; man had been the executioner, and recrimination would have been pointless.
What man had done was right, absolutely in accordance with the law. Yet it seemed impossible that no one should have answered the last appeal. Andronico, his wife and the hunters all wanted to escape from the place without more ado; even the two naturalists were willing to give up the usual embalming procedure in order to get away more quickly.
The men from the village had disappeared as though they had felt forebodings of disaster. The shadows climbed the walls of loose rock. The two plumes of smoke continued to rise from the dragon’s shriveled carcass, curling slightly in the still air. All seemed over now, an unhappy incident to be forgotten as soon as possible. But Count Gerol went on coughing. Exhausted, he was seated on a boulder and his friends around him did not dare speak to him. Even the fearless Maria averted her gaze. The only sound was his sharp coughing. All attempts at controlling it were unsuccessful: there was a sort of fire burning ever deeper within him.
“I knew it,” whispered Andronico to his wife, who was trembling a little. “I knew it would end badly.”
The Opening of the Road
JUNE 20, 1845, THE DAY THAT HAD BEEN FIXED, FOR some time, for the inauguration of the new road which was to cover the fifty miles between the capital and San Piero, a town of forty thousand inhabitants situated in an isolated position right at the edge of the kingdom, surrounded by a vast expanse of deserted heathland. Work on the road had been started by the old governor. The new one, who had been elected only two months ago, had not seemed particularly interested in the project and, under the pretext of some minor ailment, had arranged to be represented at the ceremony by Count Carlo Mortimer, Minister of the Interior.
The inaugural journey took place although the road was not completely ready and though the last twelve miles, near San Piero, were nothing more than a rudimentary roadbed; but the foreman assured them that their carriages would be able to complete their journey. Besides, it hardly seemed desirable to postpone this long-awaited ceremony. The people of San Piero were in a ferment of enthusiasm and excitement. At the beginning of June a dozen carrier pigeons arrived in the capital bearing messages of devotion to the governor and announcing that great celebrations were being prepared at San Piero.
So on June 19 the inaugural procession left the capital. It consisted of a mounted escort and four carriages.
In the first rode Count Carlo Mortimer; his secretary, Vasco Detui; the Inspector of Public Works, Vincenzo Lagosi (the father of the Lagosi who was to die so tragically at the battle of Riante); and the builder and contractor Franco Mazzaroli, who had been in charge of building the road.
In the second came the general Antes-Lequoz with his wife, a brave though eccentric woman, and two civil servants.
In the third were the Master of Ceremonies, Don Diego Crampi, with his wife and young secretary, and the doctor Gerolamo Attesi, a surgeon.
The fourth was for the servants and provisions, since food would have been hard to come by during the journey.
Everything went according to plan as far as Passo Terne, a small village where the travelers spent the night. The following day they had only about twenty more miles to go; though twelve of these, as has already been pointed out, would be slow going, and difficult because of the unfinished state of the road.
The august personages left Passo Terne at six in the morning, to be able to travel while it was still cool. They were all
