Cross the plains which malaria has made dreary solitudes, take the stony path which winds painfully up the side of the mountain.

You will come to a town of five or ten thousand souls, which is little more than a dormitory for five or ten thousand peasants.

Viewed from a distance, this country town has an almost grand appearance.

The dome of a church, a range of monastic buildings, the tower of a feudal castle, invest it with a certain air of importance.

A troop of women are coming down to the fountain with copper vessels on their heads.