Over the Stelvio Pass Page #3

"Over the Stelvio Pass" by Robert Barr is a captivating travelogue that chronicles the author's adventurous journey through the stunning landscapes of the Stelvio Pass, one of the highest mountain passes in the Alps. Blending personal anecdotes with vivid descriptive passages, Barr explores the rich culture, breathtaking vistas, and challenges of traversing this iconic route. The book combines elements of adventure, exploration, and a deep appreciation for nature, making it a delightful read for anyone who enjoys travel literature and the allure of the great outdoors.

• Short story

								

advised to keep her senses about her at that moment.

"I can't imagine why he should attack me," said Standish, as he bared
his arm to be bandaged. "I never saw him before, and I have had no
quarrel with any one. It could not have been robbery, for I was too
near the hotel. I cannot understand it."

"Oh," began old Lenz, "it's easy enough to account for it. He----"

Tina darted one look at her father that went through him as the blade
had gone through the outstretched arm. His mouth closed like a steel
trap.

"Please go for Doctor Zandorf, papa," she said sweetly, and the old man
went. "These Italians," she continued to Standish, "are always
quarrelling. The villain mistook you for some one else in the dusk."

"Ah, that's it, very likely. If the rascal has returned to his senses,
he probably regrets having waked up the wrong passenger."

When the authorities searched for Pietro they found that he had
disappeared as absolutely as though Standish had knocked him through
into China. When he came to himself and rubbed his head, he saw the
blood on the road, and he knew his stroke had gone home somewhere. The
missing knife would be evidence against him, so he thought it safer to
get on the Austrian side of the fence. Thus he vanished over the
Stelvio pass, and found horses to drive on the other side.

The period during which Standish loafed around that lovely garden with
his arm in a sling, waited upon assiduously and tenderly by Tina, will
always be one of the golden remembrances of the Englishman's life. It
was too good to last for ever, and so they were married when it came to
an end. The old man would still have preferred a Swiss innkeeper for a
son-in-law, yet the Englishman was better than the beggarly Italian,
and possibly better than the German who had occupied a place in Tina's
regards before the son of sunny Italy appeared on the scene. That is
one trouble in the continental hotel business; there is such a
bewildering mixture of nationalities.

Standish thought it best not to go back to England at once, as he had
not quite settled to his own satisfaction how the pension was to
be eliminated from the affair and transformed into a palace. He knew a
lovely and elevated castle in the Tyrol near Meran where they accepted
passers-by in an unobtrusive sort of way, and there, he resolved, they
would make their plans. So the old man gave them a great set-out with
which to go over the pass, privately charging the driver to endeavour
to get a return fare from Meran so as to, partly at least, cover the
outlay. The carriage was drawn by five horses, one on each side of the
pole and three in front. They rested the first night at Bormeo, and
started early next day for over the pass, expecting to dine at
Franzenshöhe within sight of the snowy Ortler.

It was late in the season and the weather was slightly uncertain, but
they had a lovely Italian forenoon for going up the wonderful, zigzag
road on the western side of the pass. At the top there was a slight
sprinkling of snow, and clouds hung over the lofty Ortler group of
peaks. As they got lower down a steady persistent rain set in, and they
were glad to get to the shelter and warmth of the oblong stone inn at
Franzenshöhe, where a good dinner awaited them. After dinner the
weather cleared somewhat, but the clouds still obscured the tops of the
mountains, and the roads were slippery. Standish regretted this, for he
wanted to show his bride the splendid scenery of the next five miles
where the road zigzags down to Trefoi, each elbow of the dizzy
thoroughfare overhanging the most awful precipices. It was a dangerous
bit of road, and even with only two horses, requires a cool and
courageous driver with a steady head. They were the sole guests at the
inn, and it needed no practised eye to see that they were a newly
married couple. The news spread abroad, and every lounger about the
place watched them get into their carriage and drive away, one hind
wheel of the carriage sliding on its skid, and all breaks on.

At the first turning Standish started, for the carriage went around it
with dangerous speed. The whip cracked, too, like a succession of
pistol shots, which was unusual going down the mountain. He said
nothing to alarm his bride, but thought that the driver had taken on
more wine than was good for him at the inn. At the second turn the
wheel actually slid against and bumped the stone post that was the sole
guard from the fearful precipice below. The sound and shock sent a cold
chill up the back of Standish, for he knew the road well and there were
worse places to come. His arm was around his wife, and he withdrew it
gently so as not to alarm her. As he did so she looked up and shrieked.
Following her glance to the front window of their closed carriage,
where the back of the driver is usually to be seen, he saw pressed
against the glass the distorted face of a demon. The driver was
kneeling on his seat instead of sitting on it, and was peering in at
them, the reins drawn over his shoulder, and his back to the horses. It
seemed to Standish that the light of insanity gleamed from his eyes,
but Tina saw in them the revengeful glare of the vendetti; the
rage of the disappointed lover.

"My God! that's not our driver," cried Standish, who did not recognise
the man who had once endeavoured to kill him. He sprang up and tried to
open the front window, but the driver yelled out--

"Open that window if you dare, and I'll drive you over here before you
get halfway down. Sit still, and I take you as far as the Weisse Knott.
That's where you are going over. There you'll have a drop of a mile
(un miglio)."

"Turn to your horses, you scoundrel," shouted Standish, "or I'll break
every bone in your body!"

"The horses know the way, Signor Inglese, and all our bones are going
to be broken, yours and your sweet bride's as well as mine."

The driver took the whip and fired off a fusilade of cracks overhead,
beside them, and under them. The horses dashed madly down the slope,
almost sending the carriage over at the next turn. Standish looked at
his wife. She had apparently fainted, but in reality had merely closed
her eyes to shut out the horrible sight of Pietro's face. Standish
thrust his arm out of the open window, unfastened the door, and at the
risk of his neck jumped out. Tina shrieked when she opened her eyes and
found herself alone. Pietro now pushed in the frame of the front window
and it dropped out of sight, leaving him face to face with her, with no
glass between them. "Now that your fine Inglese is gone, Tina, we are
going to be married; you promised it, you know."

"You coward," she hissed; "I'd rather die his wife than live yours."

"You're plucky, little Tina, you always were. But he left you. I
wouldn't have left you. I won't leave you. We'll be married at the
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