Italian-Swiss Alps, and Wolfweir .
Baggage
Once the train was well underway, Alphonse pushed open the trunk lid and climbed out.
Then he put out his wooden hand and helped Lucia clamber out of the trunk. She held onto his shoulders and lowered her feet to the floor.
It was dark in the baggage car, since there were no windows. The heaped baggage swayed with the motion of the train.
Alphonse searched his vest pockets and came out with a box of matches. He struck one. The match head rasped and sputtered into flame.
By its light Alphonse found a lantern hanging by a small iron hook at the end of the car.
He climbed a pile of suitcases to get to the lantern and took it down carefully. It had a little kerosene sloshing in it.
When he'd brought it to the floor, he shook out his match -- it had burned down almost to Alphonse's wooden fingertips -- and struck another. He opened the tiny window in the glass chimney and lit the cotton wick.
Puppets have to be a little careful around fire, he reflected.
He set the lantern on the wooden floor and sat cross legged by it. Lucia smiled, pulled up a suitcase and perched close to the flame, gazing into it as if to discern the shape of their future.
Maybe she saw Wolfweir castle, and the river where she used to sit singing, dangling her bare feet in the water and floating leaf boats downstream.
They had some light now. It wasn't too uncomfortable in the baggage car. They were alone, with no interference or danger, and could just enjoy being alive.
For the nonce, anyhow.
After awhile , Alphonse decided that he'd like to take a look at the countryside passing. Since the door was locked from the outside, he'd have to find another way.
His simple but elegant solution was to shoot a hole in the door. He loaded one of the dueling pistols, crept up close to the door, squinted holding the pistol at arm's length -- Lucia covered her head with her arms -- and fired.
BANG
Daylight shone through the bullet hole. Alphonse waved away the wafting black powder smoke and stuck his eye to the hole. He saw green fields, a river scummed with algae, a stone bridge, a cow lying in a pasture, a pile of hay, a mountain covered with pines.
It was the French countryside, all right.
He saw a field of dazzling orange poppies. He waved for Lucia, but by the time she put her eye to the hole, the heavenly poppy field was gone. She saw a pile of smoking manure, then a little village with red tiled roofs click by. A stone wall. A man walking behind a cart drawn by two muddy white oxen.
"Eh. Marveloso !" she cried.
**
It was getting colder. They had rumbled through vast pine forests all afternoon. The train was climbing steadily into steep mountains.
Alphonse draped the silly silk opera cape around Lucia. She wrapped it tight around her shoulders, sitting huddled on the suitcase. Her breath smoking.
Then Alphonse glanced around him at the heaps of luggage and -- mentally at least -- chortled.
There must be many wardrobes worth of clothing in this baggage car, he thought.
Lucia watched the puppet boy with wonder as he danced about the jolting train car opening suitcases and bags and yanking out items of clothing, tossing aside some and stacking up others to try on.
Eventually, he found a sheepskin-lined leather coat and handed it to Lucia, who was shivering now. She put it on and zipped it up to the chin.
She put on the gloves Alphonse tossed in her lap. Then she wrapped a thick red wool scarf around her neck.
As for Alphonse, he didn't feel the cold, and so he wasn't trembling a bit.
All he needed for himself, he thought, was some well-made hiking boots, and maybe a fetching leather aviator jacket.
He soon found such a jacket in his size -- it must belong to a runtish teenaged boy -- and put it on, turning for Lucia to admire him. She clapped her gloved
Baggage
Once the train was well underway, Alphonse pushed open the trunk lid and climbed out.
Then he put out his wooden hand and helped Lucia clamber out of the trunk. She held onto his shoulders and lowered her feet to the floor.
It was dark in the baggage car, since there were no windows. The heaped baggage swayed with the motion of the train.
Alphonse searched his vest pockets and came out with a box of matches. He struck one. The match head rasped and sputtered into flame.
By its light Alphonse found a lantern hanging by a small iron hook at the end of the car.
He climbed a pile of suitcases to get to the lantern and took it down carefully. It had a little kerosene sloshing in it.
When he'd brought it to the floor, he shook out his match -- it had burned down almost to Alphonse's wooden fingertips -- and struck another. He opened the tiny window in the glass chimney and lit the cotton wick.
Puppets have to be a little careful around fire, he reflected.
He set the lantern on the wooden floor and sat cross legged by it. Lucia smiled, pulled up a suitcase and perched close to the flame, gazing into it as if to discern the shape of their future.
Maybe she saw Wolfweir castle, and the river where she used to sit singing, dangling her bare feet in the water and floating leaf boats downstream.
They had some light now. It wasn't too uncomfortable in the baggage car. They were alone, with no interference or danger, and could just enjoy being alive.
For the nonce, anyhow.
After awhile , Alphonse decided that he'd like to take a look at the countryside passing. Since the door was locked from the outside, he'd have to find another way.
His simple but elegant solution was to shoot a hole in the door. He loaded one of the dueling pistols, crept up close to the door, squinted holding the pistol at arm's length -- Lucia covered her head with her arms -- and fired.
BANG
Daylight shone through the bullet hole. Alphonse waved away the wafting black powder smoke and stuck his eye to the hole. He saw green fields, a river scummed with algae, a stone bridge, a cow lying in a pasture, a pile of hay, a mountain covered with pines.
It was the French countryside, all right.
He saw a field of dazzling orange poppies. He waved for Lucia, but by the time she put her eye to the hole, the heavenly poppy field was gone. She saw a pile of smoking manure, then a little village with red tiled roofs click by. A stone wall. A man walking behind a cart drawn by two muddy white oxen.
"Eh. Marveloso !" she cried.
**
It was getting colder. They had rumbled through vast pine forests all afternoon. The train was climbing steadily into steep mountains.
Alphonse draped the silly silk opera cape around Lucia. She wrapped it tight around her shoulders, sitting huddled on the suitcase. Her breath smoking.
Then Alphonse glanced around him at the heaps of luggage and -- mentally at least -- chortled.
There must be many wardrobes worth of clothing in this baggage car, he thought.
Lucia watched the puppet boy with wonder as he danced about the jolting train car opening suitcases and bags and yanking out items of clothing, tossing aside some and stacking up others to try on.
Eventually, he found a sheepskin-lined leather coat and handed it to Lucia, who was shivering now. She put it on and zipped it up to the chin.
She put on the gloves Alphonse tossed in her lap. Then she wrapped a thick red wool scarf around her neck.
As for Alphonse, he didn't feel the cold, and so he wasn't trembling a bit.
All he needed for himself, he thought, was some well-made hiking boots, and maybe a fetching leather aviator jacket.
He soon found such a jacket in his size -- it must belong to a runtish teenaged boy -- and put it on, turning for Lucia to admire him. She clapped her gloved
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