"By sunrise, I would like
to be off," he said. "It is like death, to be in the house which is no
longer ours." Ramona had spoken no words since her first cry on
hearing that terrible laugh. She was like one stricken dumb. The
shock was greater to her than to Alessandro. He had lived with it
ever present in his thoughts for a year. She had always hoped. But
far more dreadful than the loss of her home, was the anguish of
seeing, hearing, the changed face, changed voice, of Alessandro.
Almost this swallowed up the other. She obeyed him
mechanically, working faster and faster as he grew more and more
feverish in his haste. Before sundown the little house was
dismantled; everything, except the bed and the stove, packed in the
big wagon.
"Now, we must cook food for the journey," said Alessandro.
"Where are we going?" said the weeping Ramona.
"Where?" ejaculated Alessandro, so scornfully that it sounded like
impatience with Ramona, and made her tears flow afresh. "Where?
I know not, Majella! Into the mountains, where the white men
come not! At sunrise we will start.
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