Peasants streaming home from work, the men on donkeys, the women carrying their babies, met the carriage and stopped to stare after it, and talk.
Suddenly from the ditches of the roadside sprang up two martial figures.
'Carabinieri!' cried Lucy in delight.
She had made friends with several members of this fine corps on the closely guarded roads about the Alban lake, and to see them here gave her a sense of protection.
Bending over the side of the carriage, she nodded to the two handsome brown-skinned fellows, who smiled back at her.
'How far,' she said, 'to Santa Trinita ?' '_Un miglio grasso_ (a good mile), Signorina.

_E tutto_.

But you are late.
They expected you half an hour ago.' The driver took this for reproach, and with a shrill burst of defence pointed to his smoking horses.

The Carabinieri laughed, and diving into the field, one on either side, they kept up with the carriage as it neared the village.
'Why, it is like coming home!' said Lucy, wondering.

And indeed they were now surrounded by the whole village population, just returned from the fields--pointing, chattering, laughing, shouting friendly directions to the driver.