"Between Cordovado and Venchieredo, a mile from the two villages, there is a large and clear fountain that is also said to contain many refreshing and healthy qualities in its water. But the nymph of the fountain did not trust solely in the virtues of the water to attract devotees and has surrounded herself with such a beautiful horizon of meadows, woods, and sky, and such a hospitable shade of alders and willows that it is truly a retreat worthy of Virgil's brush where she chose to make her abode.

Hidden and winding paths, the whisper of streams, gentle and mossy slopes, nothing is lacking all around. It is truly the mirror of a sorceress, that clear azure water that, gushing imperceptibly from a bed of fine gravel, has risen to double in its bosom the image of such a picturesque and pastoral scene.

These are places that make one think of the inhabitants of Eden before the sin; and they also make us think without disgust of the sin now that we are no longer inhabitants of Eden.

So around that fountain, the lovely girls of Cordovado, Venchieredo, and even Teglio, Fratta, Morsano, Cintello, and Bagnarola, and other surrounding villages, have customarily gathered since time immemorial on festive evenings. And they stay there for a long time in songs, laughter, conversations, and picnics until their mothers, lovers, and the moon lead them back home. I didn't even want to tell you that along with the girls, the young men also gather there, because that was already to be imagined. But what I intend to note is that, by the end of the year, I believe and affirm that people come to the fountain of Venchieredo more to fall in love than to drink; and besides, more wine than water is drunk there. You know; in these cases, one must obey more the sausages and ham of the picnics than the superstition of the passing water.

As for me, I have been there many times at that enchanting fountain; but once, only once, did I dare to profane with my hand the virgin crystal of its water. Hunting had led me there, broken by fatigue and burning with thirst; moreover, my flask of white wine would no longer weep. If I were to return now, perhaps I would drink it in large gulps as if to rejuvenate myself..."