Assunta was visibly happy when the Signorina signified her
willingness to go home. The pride of the house servant was
touched by being compelled to come too closely in contact with
the workers in the fields, and where is there pride like that of
a peasant? But her joy was short-lived. Outside the great iron
gates stood a team of beautiful fawn-colored oxen, with spotless
flanks, and great, blue, patient eyes looking out from under
broad foreheads. They were starting, with huge muscles quivering
under their white skin, to carry a load of grapes to the wine
press, the yield of this year being too great for the usual
transportation on donkey back.

"Assunta, I go too," cried Daphne.

Five minutes later the Signorina, with her unwilling handmaid at
her side, rode in triumph up the broad highway with the measured
motion of slow oxen feet. Place had been made for them among the
grape baskets, and they sat on folded blankets, Assunta's face
wearing the expression of one who was a captive indeed, the
Signorina's shining with simple happiness and somewhat stained by
grapes.

The wine press was nothing after all but a machine, and though a
certain interest attached to the great vats, hollowed out in the
tufa rock, into which the new-made wine trickled, Daphne soon
signified her willingness to depart. Before she left they
brought her a great glass of rich red grape juice fresh from the
newly crushed grapes. She touched her lips to it, then looked
about her. Assunta was talking to the workman who had given it