Katharine Hooker, Byways in southern Tuscany, 1919 (1910s)
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on the road after Roccatederighilies Roccastrada, and because of itsname and its striking situation, as wellas because it divided the day conve-niently, we climbed to its piazza for amidday meal which one may find at theStella dltalia. Seen close at hand, thetown is not prepossessing; on the con-trary, it is undeniably dirty and isfull of black sotto streets and breakneck stairs thatlead up or down to forbidding dooiways. Within obscureshops, the carpenter and blacksmith work in a darknesswhich leads one to the conclusions that they have de-veloped eyes requiring no light. It is a stern place and arough people. There are few towns as remote and yet as old as thisfrom which the evidences of antiquity have disappeared socompletely, but of the reasons for this nothing is to be
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learned from the inhabitants. They do not rememberthat a castle ever existed on the rock above their heads;but we know that a strong one stood there long ago, belong-ing to the rebellious Counts of Santa Fiora from whomSiena took it in 1316. It had held out gallantly throughmany assaults, but at last the defenders were forced tocapitulate, the victors agreeing to spare their lives, butreserving the right to destroy the fortifications. Whetheror not they were thorough in their work, time has secondedit, for there is now no trace of wall or tower nor of anyother survival of ancient architecture. I was pondering on the austerity of it all, the absence ofany softening element, when a ray of sunshine put me inthe wrong; it suddenly visited something near by which Ihad not noticed and lighted it with loveUness. It was ahead of wavy copper-colored hair I have seldom seenequalled, and it belonged to a smiling girl who hospitablyinvited me to follow her to her abode
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