So
the old woman was careful that Pietro Casale should not hear her.
"Managgia l'anima di chi t' e morto!" she muttered, as she hobbled away.
Everything in the room where Carmela died belonged to Don Pietro, and he
took everything. He found the two boys standing together, looking across
the fence of the cabbage garden down at the distant valley and over at
the height opposite, beyond which the sea was hidden.
"Eh! You good-for-nothings!" he called out to them. "Is nothing done
to-day because the mother is dead? No bread to-night, then--you know
that."
"We will not work for you any more," answered Ruggiero, the elder, as
both turned round.
Don Pietro went up to them. He had a short stout stick in his hand,
tough and black with age, and he lifted it as though to drive them to
work. They waited quietly till it should please him to come to close
quarters, which he did without delay. I have said that he was a man of
few words. But the Children of the King were not like Calabrian boys,
children though they were. Their wolfish teeth were very white as they
waited for him with parted lips, and there was an odd blue light in
their eyes which is not often seen south of Goth-land.
Pages:
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34