THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 P. Wreden
 
 COELEONE 
 
 A TALE OF SICILY 
 
 BY 
 
 F. MARION CRAWFORD 
 
 AUTHOB OF " SAKACINESCA," " PIETRO GHISLERI," " CASA BEACCIO,' 
 
 ETC., ETC. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. I 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 LONDON : MACMILLAN & CO., LTD. 
 1897 
 
 All rights reserved
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1896, 
 BY F. MARION CRAWFORD. 
 
 Xorijjooli Press 
 
 J. S. Cushing & Co. Berwick St Smith 
 Norwood Mara. U.S.A.
 
 PS 
 
 /</^ 
 
 cir 
 
 CORLEOKE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 "!F you never mean to marry, you might as 
 well turn priest, too," said Ippolito Saracinesca 
 to his elder brother, Orsino, with a laugh. 
 
 " Why ? " asked Orsino, without a smile. " It 
 would be as sensible to say that a man who had 
 never seen some particular thing, about which 
 he has heard much, might as well put out his 
 eyes." 
 
 The young priest laughed again, took up the 
 cigar he had laid upon the edge of the piano, 
 puffed at it till it burned freely, and then struck 
 two or three chords of a modulation. A sheet of 
 ruled paper on which several staves of music were 
 roughly jotted down in pencil stood on the rack 
 of the instrument. 
 
 Orsino stretched out his long legs, leaned back in 
 his low chair, and stared at the old gilded rosettes 
 in the square divisions of the carved ceiling. He 
 was a discontented man, and knew it, which made 
 his discontent a matter for self-reproach, especially 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 2 COKLEOSE 
 
 as it was quite clear to him that the cause of it 
 lay in himself. 
 
 He had made two great mistakes at the be- 
 ginning of life, when barely of age, and though 
 neither of them had ultimately produced any seri- 
 ous material consequences, they had affected his 
 naturally melancholic temper and had brought out 
 his inherited hardness of disposition. At the time 
 of the great building speculations in Rome, several 
 years earlier, he had foolishly involved himself 
 with his father's old enemy, Ugo del Ferice, and 
 had found himself at last altogether in the latter's 
 power, though not in reality his debtor. At the 
 same time, he had fallen very much in love with 
 a young widow, who, loving him very sincerely in 
 her turn, but believing, for many reasons, that if 
 she married him she would be doing him an irrep- 
 arable injury, had sacrificed herself by marrying 
 Del Ferice instead, selling herself to the banker 
 for Orsino's release, without the latter's knowledge. 
 When it was all over, Orsino had found himself 
 a disappointed man at an age when most young 
 fellows are little more than inexperienced boys, 
 and the serious disposition which he inherited 
 from his mother made it impossible for him to 
 throw off the impression received, and claim the 
 youth, so to speak, which was still his. 
 
 Since that time, he had been attracted by women, 
 but never charmed ; and those that attracted him
 
 COBLEONE 3 
 
 were for the most part not marriageable, any more 
 than the few things which sometimes interested 
 and amused him were in any sense profitable. He 
 spent a good deal of money in a careless way, for 
 his father was generous ; but his rather bitter 
 experience when he had attempted to occupy him- 
 self with business had made him cool and clear- 
 headed, so that he never did anything at all 
 ruinous. The hot temper which he had inherited 
 from his father and grandfather now rarely, if 
 ever, showed itself, and it seemed as though noth- 
 ing could break through the quiet indifference 
 which had become a second outward nature to 
 him. He had travelled much, of late years, and 
 when he made an effort his conversation was not 
 uninteresting, though the habit of looking at both 
 sides of every question made it cold and unenthu- 
 siastic. Perhaps it was a hopeful sign that he 
 generally had a definite opinion as to which of 
 two views he preferred, though he would not take 
 any trouble to convince others that he was right. 
 In his own family, he liked the company of 
 Ippolito best. The latter was about two years 
 younger than he, and very different from him in 
 almost every way. Orsino was tall, strongly built, 
 extremely dark ; Ippolito was of medium height, 
 delicately made, and almost fair by comparison. 
 Orsino had lean brown hands, well knit at the 
 base, and broad at the knuckles; Ippolito's were
 
 4 CORLEONE 
 
 slender and white, and rather nervous, with blue 
 veins at the joints, the tips of the fingers pointed, 
 the thumb unusually delicate and long, the nails 
 naturally polished. The elder brother's face, with 
 its large and energetic lines, its gravely indiffer- 
 ent expression and dusky olive hue, contrasted 
 at every point with the features of the young 
 priest, soft in outline, modelled in wax rather 
 than chiselled in bronze, pale and a- little trans- 
 parent, instead of swarthy, feminine, perhaps, 
 in the best sense of the word, as it can be applied 
 to a man. Ippolito had the clear, soft brown 
 eyes which very gifted people so often have, 
 especially musicians and painters of more talent 
 than power. But about the fine, even, and rather 
 pale lips there was the unmistakable stamp of 
 the ascetic temperament, together with an equally 
 sure indication of a witty humour which could be 
 keen, but would rather be gentle. Ippolito was 
 said to resemble his mother's mother, and was 
 notably different in appearance and manner from 
 the rest of the numerous family to which he be- 
 longed. 
 
 He was a priest by vocation rather than by 
 choice. Had he chosen deliberately a profession 
 congenial to his gifts, he would certainly have 
 devoted himself altogether to music, though he 
 would probably never have become famous as a 
 composer; for he lacked the rough creative power
 
 COPLEONE 5 
 
 which hews out great conceptions, though he pos- 
 sessed in a high degree the taste and skill which 
 can lightly and lovingly and wisely impart fine 
 detail to the broad beauty of a well-planned whole. 
 But by vocation he was a priest, and the strength 
 of the conviction of his conscience left the gifts of 
 his artistic intelligence no power to choose. He 
 was a churchman with all his soul, and a musician 
 with all his heart. 
 
 Between the two brothers there was that sort 
 of close friendship which sometimes exists between 
 persons who are too wholly different to understand 
 each other, but whose non-understanding is a con- 
 stant stimulant of interest on both sides. In the 
 midst of the large and peaceable patriarchal estab- 
 lishment in which they lived, and in which each 
 member made for himself or herself an existence 
 which had in it a certain subdued individuality, 
 Orsino and Ippolito were particularly associated, 
 and the priest, when he was at home, was generally 
 to be found in his elder brother's sitting-room, and 
 kept a good many of his possessions there. 
 
 It was a big room, with an old carved and gilded 
 ceiling, three tall windows opening to the floor, 
 two doors, a marble fireplace, a thick old carpet, 
 and a great deal of furniture of many old and new 
 designs, arranged with no regard to anything ex- 
 cept usefulness, since Orsino was not afflicted with 
 artistic tastes, nor with any ujidrfe appreciation of 
 
 ^^r-~ ^T
 
 6 COELEONE 
 
 useless objects. Ippolito's short grand piano occu- 
 pied a prominent position near the middle window, 
 and not far from it was Orsino's deep chair, beside 
 which stood a low table covered with books and 
 reviews. For, like most discontented and disap- 
 pointed people who have no real object in life, 
 Orsino Saracinesca read a good deal, and hankered 
 after interest in fiction because he found none in 
 reality. Ippolito, on the contrary, read little, and 
 thought much. 
 
 After Orsino had answered his remark about 
 marriage, the priest busied himself for some time 
 with his music, while his brother stared at the 
 ceiling in silence, listening to the modulations and 
 the fragments of tentative melody and experimental 
 harmony, without in the least understanding what 
 the younger man was trying to express. He was 
 fond of any musical sound, in an undefined way, 
 as most Italians are, and he knew by experience 
 that if he let Ippolito alone, something pleasant to 
 hear would before long be evolved. But Ippolito 
 stopped suddenly and turned half round on the 
 piano stool, with a quick movement habitual to 
 him. He leaned forward towards Orsino, tapping 
 the ends of his fingers lightly against one another, 
 as his wrists rested on his knees. 
 
 " It is absurd to suppose that in all Rome, or in 
 all Europe, for that matter, there is nobody whom 
 you would be willing to marry."
 
 COELEONE 7 
 
 " Quite absurd, I suppose," answered Orsino, not 
 looking at his brother. 
 
 "Then you have not really looked about you 
 for a wife. That is clear." 
 
 "Perfectly clear. I do not argue the point. 
 Why should I ? There is plenty of time, and 
 besides, there is no reason in the world why I 
 should ever marry at all, any more than you. 
 There are our two younger brothers. Let them 
 take wives and continue the name." 
 
 " Most people think that marriage may be 
 regarded as a means of happiness," observed 
 Ippolito. 
 
 " Most people are imbeciles," answered Orsino, 
 gloomily. 
 
 Ippolito laughed, watching his brother's face, 
 but he said nothing in reply. 
 
 " As a general rule," Orsino continued presently, 
 " talking is a question of height and not of intelli- 
 gence. The shorter men and women are, the more 
 they talk ; the taller they are, the more silent they 
 are, in nine cases out of ten. Of course there are 
 exceptions, but you can generally tell at a glance 
 whether any particular person is a great talker. 
 Brains are certainly not measurable by inches. 
 Therefore conversation has nothing to do with 
 brains. Therefore most people are fools." 
 
 " Do you call that an argument ? " asked the 
 priest, still smiling.
 
 8 COELEONE 
 
 " No. It is an observation." 
 
 " And what do you deduce from it ? " 
 
 "From it, and from a great many other things, 
 I deduce and conclude that what we call society 
 is a degrading farce. It encourages talking, when 
 no one has anything to say. It encourages mar- 
 riage, without love. It sets up fashion against 
 taste, taste against sense, and sense against heart. 
 It is a machinery for promoting emotion among 
 the unfeeling. It is a " 
 
 Orsino stopped, hesitating. 
 
 " Is it anything else ? " asked Ippolito, mildly. 
 
 " It is a hell on earth " 
 
 " That is exactly what most of the prophets and 
 saints have said, since David," remarked the priest, 
 moving again in order to find his half-smoked 
 cigar, and then carefully relighting it. " Since 
 that is your opinion, why not take orders ? You 
 might become a prophet or a saint, you know. 
 The first step towards sanctity is to despise the 
 pomps and vanities of this wicked world. You 
 seem to have taken the first step at a jump, with 
 both feet. And it is the first step that costs the 
 most, they say. Courage ! You may go far." 
 
 " I am thinking of going further before long," 
 said Orsino, gravely, as though his brother had 
 spoken in earnest. " At all events, I mean to get 
 away from all this," he added, as though correcting 
 himself.
 
 CORLEONE 9 
 
 " Do you mean to travel again ? " enquired Ip- 
 polito. 
 
 "I mean to find something to do. Provided it 
 is respectable, I do not care what it is. If I had 
 talent, like you, I would be a musician, but I would 
 not be an amateur, or I would be an artist, or a 
 literary man. But I have no talent for anything, 
 except building tenement houses, and I shall not 
 try that again. I would even be an actor, if I had 
 the gift. Perhaps I should make a good farmer, 
 but our father will not trust me now, for he is 
 afraid that I should make ruinous experiments if 
 he gave me the management of an estate. This 
 is certainly not the time for experiments. Half 
 the people we know are ruined and the country is 
 almost bankrupt. I do not wish to try experi- 
 ments. I would work, and they tell me to marry. 
 You cannot understand. You are only an amateur 
 yourself, after all, Ippolito." 
 
 "An amateur musician yes." 
 
 " No. You are an amateur priest. You support 
 your sensitive soul on a sort of religious ambrosia, 
 with a good deal of musical nectar. Your ideal is 
 to be Cardinal-Protector of the Arts. You are 
 clever and astonishingly good, by nature, and you 
 deserve no credit for either. That is probably why 
 I like you. I hate people who deserve credit, be- 
 cause I deserve none myself. But you do not take 
 your clerical profession seriously, and you are an
 
 10 CORLEONE 
 
 amateur, a dilettante of the altar. If you do not 
 have distractions about the vestments you wear 
 when you are saying mass, it is because you have 
 an intimate, unconscious artistic conviction that 
 they are beautiful and becoming to you. But if 
 the choir responded a flat 'Amen' to your 'per 
 omnia saecula saeculorum,' it would set your teeth 
 on edge and upset your devout intention at the 
 beginning of the Preface. Do you think that a 
 professional musician would be disturbed in con- 
 ducting a great orchestra, by the fact that his coat 
 collar did not fit ? " 
 
 Ippolito smiled good humouredly, but did not 
 answer. 
 
 "Very well," continued Orsino at once, "you 
 are only an amateur priest. It does not matter, 
 since you are happy. You get through life very 
 well. You do not even pretend that you do any 
 real work. Your vocation, as you call it, was a 
 liking for the state of priesthood, not for the work 
 of a priest. Now I do not care about any state in 
 particular, but I want work of some sort, at any 
 cost. I was never happy but once, during that 
 time when I worked with Contini and got into 
 trouble. I preferred it to this existence, even when 
 we got into Del Ferice's clutches. Anything rather 
 than this." 
 
 "I thought you had grown indifferent," said 
 Ippolito.
 
 CORLEONE 11 
 
 " Indifferent ? Yes, I am indifferent as a 
 machine is indifferent when the fire is out and 
 there is no steam. But if the thing could think, it 
 would want work, as I do. It would not be satis- 
 fied to rust to pieces. You ought to know a little 
 theology. Are we put into the world with a purpose, 
 or not ? Is there an intention in our existence, or 
 is there not ? Am I to live through another forty 
 or fifty years of total inactivity, because I happen 
 to be born rich, and in a position well, a position 
 which is really about as enviable as that of a fly 
 in a pot of honey ? We are stuck in our traditions, 
 just as the fly is in the honey " 
 
 " I like them," said Ippolito, quietly. 
 
 "I know you do. So does our father. They 
 suit you both. Our father is really a very intelli- 
 gent man, but too much happiness and too much 
 money have paralyzed him. His existence seems 
 to have been a condition of perpetual adoration of 
 our mother." 
 
 " He has made her happy. That is worth some- 
 thing." 
 
 "She has made him happy. They have made 
 each other happy. They have devoured a lifetime 
 of happiness together in secret, as though it were 
 their lawful prey. As they never wanted anything 
 else, they never found out that the honey of tradi- 
 tions is sticky, and that they could not move if 
 they would."
 
 12 COBLEONE 
 
 " They are fond of us 
 
 " Of course. We have none of us done anything 
 very bad. We are a part of their happiness. We 
 are also a part of their dulness ; for they are dull, 
 and their happiness makes us dull, too." 
 
 " What an idea ! " 
 
 "It is true. What have we accomplished, any 
 of us four brothers ? What shall we ever accom- 
 plish? We are ornaments on the architecture of 
 our father's and mother's happiness. It is rather 
 a negative mission in life, you must admit. I am 
 glad that they are happy, but I should like to be 
 something more than a gargoyle on their temple." 
 
 " Then marry, and have a temple of your own ! " 
 laughed Ippolito. "And gargoyles of your own, 
 too." 
 
 "But I do not want that sort of happiness. 
 Marriage is not a profession. It is not a career." 
 
 "No. At least, you might turn out a dilettante 
 husband, as you say that I am an amateur priest." 
 Ippolito laughed again. 
 
 Orsino laughed dryly, but did not answer, not 
 being in a humour for jesting. He leaned back 
 in his chair again, and looked at the carved ceiling 
 and thought of what it meant, for it was one of 
 those ceilings which are only to be found in old 
 Roman palaces, and belong intimately to the exist- 
 ence which those old dwellings suggest. Orsino 
 thought of the grim dark walls outside, of the for-
 
 COELEONE 13 
 
 bidding gateway, of the heavily barred windows 
 on the lower story, of the dark street at the back 
 of the palace, and the medieevalism of it all was 
 as repugnant to him as the atmosphere of a prison. 
 
 He had never understood his father nor his 
 grandfather, who both seemed born for such an 
 existence, and who certainly thrived in it ; for the 
 old Prince was over ninety years of age, and his 
 son, Sant' Ilario, though now between fifty and 
 sixty, was to all intents and purposes still a young 
 man. Orsino was perhaps as strong as either of 
 them. But he did not believe that he could last 
 as long. In the midst of an enforced idleness he 
 felt the movement of the age about him, and he 
 said to himself that he was in the race of which 
 they were only spectators, and that he was born in 
 times when it was impossible to stand still. It is 
 true that, like many young men of to-day, he took 
 movement for progress and change for improve- 
 ment, and he had no very profound understanding 
 of the condition of his own or of other countries. 
 But the movement and the change are facts from 
 which no one can escape who has had a modern 
 education. 
 
 Giovanni Saracinesca, Orsino's father, known as 
 Prince of Saiit' Ilario, since the old Prince Sara- 
 cinesca was still living, had not had a modern 
 education, and his mother had died while he was 
 a mere child. Brought up by men, among men, he
 
 14 COELEONE 
 
 had reached manhood early, in close daily associa- 
 tion with his father and with a strong natural 
 admiration for him, though with an equally strong 
 sense of personal independence. 
 
 Orsino's youth had been different. He was not 
 an only son, as Sant' Ilario had been, but the eldest 
 of four brothers, and he had been brought up by 
 his mother as well as by his father and grand- 
 father. There had been less room for his charac- 
 ter to develop freely, since the great old house had 
 been gradually filled by a large family. At the 
 same time there had also been less room for old- 
 fashioned prejudices and traditions than formerly, 
 and a good deal less respect for them, as there had 
 been, too, a much more lively consciousness of the 
 outer world's movements. The taking of Rome in 
 1870 was the death-blow of medisevalism ; and the 
 passing away of King Victor Emmanuel and of 
 Pope Pius the Ninth was the end of Italian roman- 
 ticism, if one may use the expression to designate 
 all that concatenation of big and little events which 
 make up the thrilling story of the struggle for 
 Italian unity. After the struggle for unity, began 
 the struggle for life, more desperate, more dan- 
 gerous, but immeasurably less romantic. There is 
 all the difference which lies between banking and 
 fighting. 
 
 And Orsino was aware of qualities and feelings 
 and opinions iu his father and mother which he
 
 COBLEONE 15 
 
 did not possess, but which excited in him a sort 
 of envy of what he regarded as their simplicity. 
 Each seemed to have wanted but one thing in 
 life since he could remember them, and that was 
 the other's love, in possessing which each was sat- 
 isfied and happy. Times might change as they 
 would, popes might die, kings might be crowned, 
 parties might wrangle in political strife, and the 
 whole country might live through its perilous joys 
 of sudden prosperity and turn sour again in the 
 ferment that follows failure, it was all the same 
 to Giovanni and Corona. As Orsino had told his 
 brother, they had devoured a lifetime of happiness 
 together in secret. He would have added that 
 they had left none for others, and in a sense it 
 might have been true. But he preferred not to 
 say it, even to Ippolito; for it would have sounded 
 bitter, whereas Orsino believed himself to be only 
 indifferent. 
 
 Proud men and women hide their griefs and 
 sufferings, when they have any. But there are 
 some who are so very proud that they will hide 
 their happiness also, as though it might lose some 
 of its strength if anyone else could see it, or as 
 if it could be spoiled by the light like a photo- 
 graph not yet fixed. People sometimes call that 
 instinct the selfishness of love, but it is more 
 like a sort of respect for love itself, which is 
 certainly not vulgar, as all selfishness is.
 
 16 CORLEONE 
 
 It was not probable that either Giovanni or 
 Corona should change in this respect, nor, indeed, 
 in any other, for they had never been changeable 
 or capricious people, and time had made solid 
 their lives. To each other they were as they had 
 always been, but to others Giovanni was a man 
 advanced in middle life, and the beautiful Corona 
 Saracinesca was a rose of yesterday. 
 
 She could never be anything but beautiful, even 
 if she should live to extreme old age; but those 
 who had known her in her youth had begun to 
 shake their heads sadly, lamenting the glory de- 
 parted, and seeing only in recollection a vision of 
 it, while they could not see the value of what 
 remained nor appreciate something which had 
 come with years. Strangers who came to Home 
 and saw the Princess of Sant' Ilario for the first 
 time, gazed in silent surprise at the woman who 
 for nearly a quarter of a century had been the 
 most beautiful in Europe, and they wondered 
 whether, even now, anyone could be compared 
 with her. 
 
 The degeneration of age had not taken hold 
 upon her. The perfect features were as calm and 
 regular as fate, the dark skin had still its clear, 
 warm, olive tint, which very rarely changed at all 
 perceptibly; her splendid eyes were truthful and 
 direct still, beneath the strong black eyebrows. 
 There were silver threads in the magnificent hair,
 
 COELEONE 17 
 
 but they were like the lights on a raven's wing. 
 She was straight and strong and graceful still, she 
 who had been compared to velvet and steel 
 slighter perhaps than in her full perfection, for 
 she had in her some of that good Saracen blood 
 of the south, which seems to nourish only the 
 stronger and the finer tissues, consuming in time 
 all that is useless ; wearing away the velvet, but 
 leaving the steel intact almost to the very last. 
 
 There could be but one such woman in one race, 
 and it seemed in some way natural that she should 
 have been sisterless, and should have borne only 
 sons. But as though nature would not be alto- 
 gether defeated and stayed out of balance, the 
 delicate feminine element had come to the surface 
 in one of the Saracinesca men. It was too fine 
 to be womanish, too high to be effeminate, as it 
 showed itself in Ippolito, the priest-musician. But 
 it was unmistakably something which was neither 
 in the old Prince, nor in Giovanni, nor in any of 
 the other three brothers, and it made between him 
 and his mother a bond especially their own, which 
 the rest acknowledged without understanding, and 
 respected without feeling that Ippolito was pre- 
 ferred before them. For it was not a preference, 
 but a stronger mutual attraction, in which there 
 was no implied unfairness to the rest. 
 
 It is one of the hardest things in the world to 
 explain, and yet almost everyone understands it, 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 CORLEONE 
 
 for it has nothing to do with language, and every- 
 thing to do with feeling. We human beings need 
 language most to explain what is most remote 
 from our humanity, and those who talk the most 
 of feeling are often those that feel the least. For 
 conveying a direct impression, what is the sharp- 
 ened conciseness of Euclid, or the polished elo- 
 quence of Demosthenes, what is the sledge-hammer 
 word blow of JEschylus, or the lightning thrust of 
 Dante's two-edged tongue, compared with a kiss, 
 or a girl's blush, or the touch of a mother's hand 
 or the silent certainty of twofold thought in 
 one, which needs neither blush, nor touch, nor 
 kiss to say that love is all, and all is love? 
 
 And that bond which is sometimes between 
 mother and son is of this kind. It is not strange, 
 either, that the father who looks on should mis- 
 understand it, since it is the most especially 
 human feeling which is often the least compre- 
 hensible to those who do not feel it, for the 
 very reason that language cannot convey the im- 
 pression of it to others. Nothing is less ridic- 
 ulous than love, except death. Yet a man in love 
 is very frequentty ridiculous in the eyes of his 
 friends and of the world, the more so in propor- 
 tion as he shows the more plainly what he feels. 
 Yet most of those who laugh at him have probably 
 been in love themselves. A cynic would say that 
 the humour of it lies in the grim certainty which
 
 CORLEONE 19 
 
 others feel that it cannot last. Fear is terri- 
 bly real to him who feels it, but a man who is 
 frightened without cause is always laughable and 
 generally contemptible. It is true that whereas 
 we are all human and feel humanly, humanity is 
 very hard to understand because understanding 
 is not feeling, any more than the knowledge of 
 evil is temptation, or than the knowledge of good 
 is virtue. The best description of a sunset cannot 
 convey much to a man born blind, though it may 
 awaken longings in him, and sharpen the edge of 
 his old suffering upon the roughness of a new 
 regret. And yet a description means very much 
 more to most people than an explanation. 
 
 Sant' Ilario had long ago accepted the fact that 
 his wife was in some mysterious way drawn to 
 her second son, more than to the others. It would 
 be saying too much, perhaps, to assert that Corona 
 was glad when Ippolito took orders and the vow 
 of celibacy. She was not an imaginative woman, 
 nor nervous, nor in any way not normal. Nor 
 were the Saracinesca by any means an excessively 
 devout family, nor connected with the history of 
 the church, as many Roman families are. On the 
 contrary, they had in former times generally op- 
 posed the popes when they had not been strong 
 enough to make one of their own, and the absence 
 of any womanly element in the great house, be- 
 tween the untimely death of the old Prince's wife,
 
 20 CORLEONE 
 
 and Giovanni Saracinesca's marriage with the 
 Duchessa d'Astrardente nearly thirty years later, 
 had certainly not favoured a tendency to devo- 
 tional practices. When young Ippolito made up 
 his mind to be a priest, the aged head of the 
 family growled out a few not very edifying re- 
 marks in his long white beard. Even ten years 
 earlier, he might have gone into a rage about it, 
 which might have endangered his life, for he 
 had a terrible temper; but he was near the end, 
 now, and it would have taken more than that to 
 rouse him. As for Giovanni, he was not especially 
 pleased either, for he had never been fond of 
 priests, and he assuredly did not care to have any 
 in the family. Yet, in spite of this prejudice, 
 there seemed to him to be a certain fitness in the 
 event, against which it would be useless to argue, 
 and after a little discussion with his wife, he 
 accepted it as more or less inevitable. 
 
 But Corona was satisfied, if not glad, and what 
 she felt was very like gladne'ss, for, without reason- 
 ing at all, she knew that she should be jealous of 
 any woman who came between her and Ippolito. 
 She had never been able to think of a possible Avife 
 for him as she often thought of wives for her 
 other sons without a sharp thrust of pain which 
 could not be anything but jealousy. It was not 
 exactly like what she should have felt, or fancied 
 that she should have felt, if Giovanni had been
 
 COBLEONE 21 
 
 momentarily attracted by some other woman. But 
 it was not at all like anything else in the world. 
 
 She did not know how far Ippolito was aware 
 of this, but she knew beyond doubt that he was 
 instinctively drawn to her, as she was to him. She 
 had that intuitive certainty, which women know 
 so well, that in a moment of danger he would think 
 first of her, precisely as her husband would. Such 
 instincts are, perhaps, but shadowy inklings of the 
 grey primeval past, when women and children knew 
 to whom they must look for protection against man 
 and beast; but they are known to us all in con- 
 nexion with those we love best, though they may 
 never cross our thoughts when we are alone. 
 
 There was between her and Ippolito a sort of 
 constant mutual echoing of thought and feeling; 
 that sort of sympathy which, between people of 
 sensitive and unhealthy organization, leads to those 
 things, not easily explained, to which the name of 
 telepathy has lately been attached as a tentative 
 definition. But these two were not unhealthy, nor 
 morbidly sensitive, nor otherwise different from 
 normal human beings. Corona had never been ill 
 in her life, and if Ippolito had been thought del- 
 icate in his boyhood, it was by contrast with the 
 rest of a family remarkable for most uncommon 
 health and strength. 
 
 All this has seemed necessary in order to explain 
 the events which at this time took place in the Sara-
 
 22 CORLEONE 
 
 cinesca household. Nothing unusual had occurred 
 in the family for many years, excepting Orsino's 
 rather foolish and most unlucky attempt to occupy 
 himself in business at the time of the great build- 
 ing speculation, and his first love affair, to which 
 reference was made in the beginning of this some- 
 what explanatory chapter.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 WHEX the notorious Prince of Corleone died with- 
 out much ceremony in a small second-class hotel 
 in Nice, and was buried with no ceremony at all 
 worth mentioning, at the expense of the hotel 
 keeper, his titles and what was left of his lands 
 and other belongings went to his brother's chil- 
 dren, since his brother was dead also. The Cor- 
 leone people were never long-lived, nor had their 
 alliances as a rule conduced to long life in others, 
 who had been their wives and husbands. Super- 
 stitious persons said that there was upon the 
 whole family the curse of a priest whom they 
 had caused to be shot as a spy in order to save 
 themselves during the wars of Napoleon in Italy. 
 It was even said that they saw, or thought they 
 saw, this priest when they were about to die. 
 But as priests are plentiful in the south of Italy, 
 it might very well be that their vision was not a 
 vision at all, but simply some quite harmless living 
 ecclesiastic who chanced to be passing at the time. 
 It is true that they were said to notice always a 
 small red hole in his forehead and another in his 
 left cheek, but this also might have been only an 
 23
 
 24 CORLEONE 
 
 effect of imagination. Nevertheless they were un- 
 fortunate, as a race, and several of them had come 
 to violent or otherwise untimely ends within the 
 century. 
 
 The name, Corleone, was only a title, and the 
 town from which it was taken had long ago passed 
 into other hands. The family name was Pagliuca 
 d'Oriani. As often happens in Italy, they went by 
 whichever one of the three names happened to be 
 most familiar to the speaker who mentioned them. 
 
 At the time of the Prince's death there were 
 living his brother's widow and four children, con- 
 sisting of three sons and one daughter ; and there 
 was another branch of the family, calling them- 
 selves Pagliuca di Bauso, with whom this history 
 is not at present concerned. 
 
 The widowed lady was known in Sicily as 
 Donna Maria Carolina Pagliuca. Her eldest son 
 was Tebaldo, to whom came from his uncle the 
 title, Prince of Corleone; and his two brothers 
 were named Francesco and Ferdinando. Their 
 sister, a girl seventeen years of age, was Vittoria, 
 and was the youngest. 
 
 In the ordinary course of events, being of the 
 south, the three sons as well as their father and 
 mother would have each borne a distinctive title. 
 Corleone, however, had begun life by quarrelling 
 with his younger brother; and when the latter 
 had died, and the property had been divided ac-
 
 CORLEONE 25 
 
 cording to the code introduced after the annexation 
 of Naples and Sicily, he had absolutely refused to 
 allow his brother any title whatsoever. He could 
 not prevent the division of the lands, of which, 
 however, he had by far the larger share; but he 
 could keep the titles, with which the law of suc- 
 cession does not concern itself, and he did so out 
 of spite. Moreover, he injured and defrauded his 
 brother by every means in his power, which was 
 at that time considerable ; and the result was that 
 the said brother and his family became very poor 
 indeed, and retired to live in a somewhat barbar- 
 ous region of Sicily, very much in the manner of 
 farmers and very little in the style of gentlefolks. 
 He died of the cholera when his eldest son, Te- 
 baldo, was barely of age, and Vittoria was a little 
 girl at a convent in Palermo. 
 
 The three young men lived almost in the sur- 
 roundings of Sicilian peasants, but with the pride 
 and more, than the ordinary vanity of a race of 
 nobles. There might not have been much differ- 
 ence had their uncle been generous to them, in- 
 stead of at once transferring and continuing to 
 them his hatred of their father. But as they were 
 placed, and with their characters, the result was 
 inevitable. They grew up to be at once idle and 
 vindictive, grasping and improvident, half cunning 
 and half fierce, physically brave and morally mean. 
 The many faults and the few virtues were not
 
 26 COR LEONE 
 
 evenly distributed among them, it is true, for each, 
 had some greater or less share of them all. Te- 
 baldo was the most cunning, Francesco the most 
 licentious, Ferdinando was the boldest and the 
 most rash of them all, perhaps the best, or, at 
 all events, the least bad. 
 
 The house which remained to them, with a little 
 land around it, was known as Camaldoli to the 
 peasants and the people of the neighbourhood, 
 though its original name had been Torre del Druso 
 the Tower of the Druse, or of the fiend, as one 
 chooses to interpret it. It was a good-sized, ram- 
 bling, half-fortified old monastery, looking down 
 from a gentle elevation in the high valley on one 
 side, and having a deep gorge at the back, through 
 which a torrent tumbled along over dark stones 
 during three-quarters of the year. There was a 
 sort of rampart above this chasm, and at one end 
 rose a square tower with ruined crenellations, built 
 of almost black tufo. It was evidently this tower 
 which had given the place its more ancient name, 
 before the monks had built their white plastered' 
 building against it and the rampart, with the little 
 church in the inner court. The village of Santa 
 Vittoria was about three-quarters of a mile dis- 
 tant, hidden by the spur of the hill, and sepa- 
 rated from Camaldoli by a barren stretch of burnt 
 lava and scoriae, which had descended long ago 
 from some lower crater of the volcano.
 
 CORLEONE 27 
 
 Far above all, Etna's enormous cone rose against 
 the dark blue eastern sky like a monstrous, streaked 
 sugar loaf. On each side of the great burnt strip 
 between Santa Vittoria and Camaldoli, the woods 
 and fields stretched north and south towards Mes- , 
 sina and Catania, and westwards beyond the val- 
 ley rose a great range of mountains covered high 
 with forests of chestnut trees. No houses were 
 visible from Camaldoli, nor any shed nor hut 
 which could have served for a human habitation, 
 for it was a wild and lonely country. 
 
 The three brothers lived with their mother at 
 Camaldoli, and were served in a rough fashion by 
 three men and four women, almost all of whom 
 were expected to do almost anything, from stable 
 work to cooking and waiting at table. There was 
 a sort of slovenly abundance of coarse food and 
 drink, but there was little else, and many a well- 
 to-do peasant lived better than the sister-in-law 
 and the nephews of Prince Corleone. Donna Maria 
 Carolina scarcely ever left the house in winter or 
 summer. She had been married from a convent, 
 a mere child, had enjoyed a brief taste of luxury 
 and something of happiness at the beginning of 
 life, and had spent the years of subsequent pov- 
 erty between spasmodic attempts to make gentle- 
 men of her wild sons, bitter outbursts of regret for 
 her marriage, and an apathetic indifference such as 
 only comes upon women of southern races when
 
 28 CORLEONE 
 
 placed in such hopeless situations as hers. She 
 was a thin, dark woman, with traces of beauty, 
 dressed generally in shabby black, but strangely 
 fond of cheap and tasteless ornaments, which con- 
 trasted horribly with her worn-out mourning. As 
 her sons grew up they acquired the habit of con- 
 tradicting everything she said. Sometimes she 
 argued her point, whatever it might be, and gen- 
 erally in total ignorance of the subject. Her argu- 
 ments frequently ended in a passionate appeal to 
 the justice of Heaven, and the right feeling of the 
 saints, though the matter under discussion might 
 not be more important than the planting of a 
 cabbage, or the dressing of a dish of greens. Or 
 else, as sometimes happened, she sullenly bent 
 her brows, while her once handsome mouth curled 
 scornfully, and from her scarcely parted lips one 
 word came in an injured and dramatic tone. 
 
 " Villani ! " she would exclaim. 
 
 The word may be translated 'boors,' and the 
 three boys did not like it, for it is an outrageous 
 insult from a man to a man. But it is worth not- 
 ing that such rudeness to their mother did not go 
 beyond flat contradiction in argument, and when 
 she called her sons boors, they bore it in silence, 
 and generally went away without a retort. There 
 are no Italians without some traces of manners 
 and of that submission to parents which belonged 
 to the old patriarchal system of the Kornans. It
 
 COBLEONE 29 
 
 must be remembered, too, so far as this and the 
 rest of their behaviour may be concerned, that al- 
 though their father died when they were young, 
 he had lived long enough to give them something, 
 though not much, in the way of education, chiefly 
 by the help of the parish priest of Santa Vittoria, 
 and to teach them the rudimentary outward man- 
 ners of young gentlemen. And these they were 
 quite able to assume when they pleased. He had 
 succeeded in having them taught at least enough 
 to pass the very easy examination which entitles 
 young men to serve but a year and a few weeks in 
 the army, instead of the regular term ; and he had 
 taken first Tebaldo, then Tebaldo and Francesco, 
 and then all three in successive years to Messina 
 and Palermo for a fortnight at a time, so that they 
 were not wholly ignorant of the world beyond Ca- 
 maldoli, Santa Vittoria, and the one or two larger 
 towns which lay within a day's ride of their re- 
 mote abode. 
 
 It must not be forgotten, either, in order to un- 
 derstand how the brothers were able afterwards to 
 make a tolerably decent appearance in Rome, that 
 Italians have great powers of social adaptation ; 
 and, secondly, that the line between the nobility 
 and the people is very clearly drawn in most parts 
 of the country, especially in the matter of manners 
 and speech, so that what little the young men 
 learned from their father and mother belonged
 
 30 COBLEONE 
 
 distinctively to their own class and to no other. 
 Even had they been outwardly less polished than 
 they really knew how to appear, their name alone 
 would have admitted them to society, though so- 
 ciety might have treated them coolly after a nearer 
 acquaintance. 
 
 Vittoria, their sister, remained at the convent in 
 Palermo after their father's death. He, poor man, 
 seeing that his house did not promise to be a very 
 fit place for a young girl, and especially not for one 
 delicately organized as his daughter seemed to be, 
 had placed her with the nuns while still a young 
 child; and under the circumstances this was by 
 far the wisest thing he could do. The nuns were 
 ladies, and the convent was relatively rich. Possi- 
 bly these facts had too much weight with Pagliuca, 
 or perhaps he honestly believed that he should 
 be able to pay regularly for Vittoria's education 
 and living. Indeed, so long as he lived he man- 
 aged to send small sums of money from time to 
 time, and even after his death Donna Maria Caro- 
 lina twice remitted a little money to the nuns. 
 But after that nothing more was sent for a long 
 time. Fortunately for herself, Vittoria was ex- 
 tremely unlike her turbulent brothers and her dis- 
 appointed mother, and by the time she was ten 
 years old she was the idol of the religious house- 
 hold in which she had been placed. Even had she 
 been very different, of low birth, and of bad tern-
 
 CORLEOXE 31 
 
 per, the nuns would have kept her, and would have 
 treated her as kindly as they could, and would have 
 done their best by her, though they would very 
 justly have required her to do something towards 
 earning her living under their roof when she grew 
 older. But apart from the child's rare charm and 
 lovable disposition, being of an old and noble name, 
 they would have considered her unfit for menial 
 work, though cast adrift and helpless, and they 
 would have thought her quite as worthy of their 
 sympathy as though she had belonged to the family 
 of one among themselves. All this, however, was 
 quite forgotten in their almost exaggerated affec- 
 tion for the child. They showed their love for her 
 as only such women could ; for though there were a 
 dozen other daughters of nobles under their care, of 
 ranging ages, the nuns let no one know that Yittoria 
 was brought up by their charity after her father's 
 death. They gave her all she needed of the best, and 
 they even gave her little presents which she might 
 think had been sent from home. They told her that 
 ' her mother desired her to have ' a Book of Hours, 
 or a writing-case, or a silk handkerchief, or any such 
 trifles. Her mother, poor lady, doubtless did de- 
 sire it, though she never said so. It was a pious 
 and a gentle fraud, and it prevented the other girls 
 from looking down upon her as a charity scholar, 
 as one or two of them might have done. In dress 
 there was no difference, of course, for they all
 
 32 CORLEONE 
 
 dressed alike, and Vittoria supposed that her par- 
 ents paid for her things. 
 
 She was a very lovely girl as she grew up, and 
 exquisite in all ways, and gentle as she was exqui- 
 site. She was not dark as her brothers were, nor 
 as her mother. It is commonly said that all the 
 region about Palermo is Saracen, but that the 
 ancient Greek blood survives from Messina to 
 Catania; and the girl certainly seemed to be of a 
 type that differed from that of her family, which 
 had originally come from the other side of the 
 island. Vittoria had soft brown hair and clear 
 brown eyes of precisely the same color as the deli- 
 cate, arched eyebrows above them, a matching 
 which always helps the harmony of any face. 
 There was a luminous clearness, too, in the skin, 
 Avhich both held and gave back the light like the 
 sheen of fine satin in shadow. There was about 
 all her face the dream-like softness of well-defined 
 outline which one occasionally sees in the best 
 cut gems of the Greeks, when the precious stone 
 itself has a golden tinge. The features were not 
 faultless by any standard of beauty which we call 
 perfect, but one would not have changed the faults 
 that were there to suit rule and canon. Such as 
 they were, they will appear more clearly hereafter. 
 It is enough to say now that Vittoria d'Oriani had 
 grace and charm and gentleness, and, withal, a 
 share of beauty by no means small. And she was
 
 CORLEONE 33 
 
 well educated and well cared for, as has been 
 seen, and was brought up very differently from her 
 brothers. 
 
 The existence of the Pagliuca at Camaldoli was 
 not only tolerably wild and rough, as has been 
 seen ; it was, in a measure, equivocal ; and it may 
 be doubted whether all the doings of the three 
 brothers, as they grew up, could have borne the 
 scrutiny of the law. Sicily is not like other coun- 
 tries in this respect, and, at the risk of wearying 
 the reader, it is better that something should be 
 said at the outset concerning outlawry and brig- 
 andage, in order that what follows may be more 
 clearly understood. 
 
 Brigandage in Sicily has a sort of intermittent 
 permanence which foreigners cannot easily explain. 
 The mere question which is so often asked 
 whether it cannot be stamped out of existence 
 shows a total ignorance of its nature. You may 
 knock off a lizard's tail in winter with a switch, 
 as most people know, but you cannot prevent the 
 tail from growing again in the spring and summer 
 unless you kill the lizard outright. 
 
 Brigandage is not a profession, as most people 
 suppose. A man does not choose it as a career. 
 It is the occasional but inevitable result of the 
 national character under certain conditions which 
 are sure to renew themselves from time to time. 
 No one can change national character. The suc- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 COELEONE 
 
 cess of brigandage, whenever it manifests itself, 
 depends primarily upon the almost inaccessible 
 nature of some parts of the island, and, secondly, 
 upon the helplessness of the peasants to defend 
 themselves in remote places. It is manifestly im- 
 possible to arm a whole population, especially with 
 weapons fit to cope with the first-rate repeating 
 rifles and army revolvers which brigands almost 
 invariably carry. It is equally impossible to picket 
 troops all over the country, at distances not exceed- 
 ing half a mile from station to station, in every 
 direction, like cabbages in a field. No army would 
 suffice. Therefore when a band is known to have 
 formed, a large force is sent temporarily to the 
 neighbourhood to hunt it down ; and this is all 
 that any government could do. The 'band,' as 
 it is always called, may be very small. One man 
 has terrorized a large district before now, and the 
 famous Leone, when at last surrounded, slew nearly 
 a score of men before he himself was killed, though 
 he was quite alone. 
 
 Almost every baud begins with a single individ- 
 ual, and he, as a rule, has turned outlaw to escape 
 the consequences of a murder done in hot blood, 
 and is, in all probability, a man of respectable birth 
 and some property. It is part of the national char- 
 acter to proceed instantly to bloodshed in case of 
 a quarrel, and quarrels are, unfortunately, common 
 enough. The peasants break one another's heads
 
 COBLEONE 35 
 
 and bones with their hoes and spades, and occa- 
 sionally stab each other with inefficient knives, but 
 rarely kill, because the carabineers are constantly 
 making search for weapons, even in the labourers' 
 pockets, and confiscate them without question when 
 found. But the man of some property rarely goes 
 abroad without a shot-gun, or a revolver, or both, 
 and generally knows how to use them. He may 
 go through life without a serious quarrel, but 
 should he find himself involved in one, he usually 
 kills his man at once, or is killed. If there are 
 witnesses present to prove beyond doubt that he 
 has killed in self-defence, he may give himself up 
 at the nearest station of carabineers, and he is sure 
 of acquittal. Otherwise, if he can get away, his 
 only course is to escape to the woods without 
 delay. This seenis to be the simple explanation 
 of the fact that such a large proportion of brig- 
 ands are by no means of the lowest class, but 
 have often been farmers and men of property, who 
 can not only afford- good weapons, but are able to 
 get licenses to carry them. Brigands are certainly 
 not, as a rule, from the so-called criminal classes, 
 as foreigners suppose, though when a band becomes 
 very large, a few common criminals may be found 
 in the whole number ; but the brigands despise and 
 distrust them. 
 
 These things also account for the still more nota- 
 ble fact that the important bands have always had
 
 36 CORLEONE 
 
 friends among the well-to-do lauded proprietors. 
 Indeed, they have not only friends, but often near 
 relations, who will make great sacrifices and run 
 considerable risks to save them from the law. 
 And when any considerable number of brigands 
 are caught, they have generally been betrayed into 
 an ambush by these friends or relations. Some- 
 times they are massacred by them for the sake of 
 a large reward. But to the honour of the Sicilian 
 character, it must be said that such cases are rare, 
 though a very notable one occurred in the year 
 1894, when a rich man and his two sons deliber- 
 ately drugged six brigands at a sort of feast of 
 friendship, and shot them all in their sleep, a mas- 
 sacre which, however, has by no means ended the 
 existence of that particular band. 
 
 As for the practices of the bandits, they have 
 three main objects in view: namely, personal safety, 
 provisions wherewith to support life, and then, 
 if possible, money in large sums, which, when 
 obtained, may afford them the means of leaving 
 the country secretly and for ever. With regard to 
 the first of these ends, they are mostly young men, 
 or men still in the prime of strength, good walkers, 
 good riders, good shots, and not rendered conspic- 
 uous marks at a distance by a uniform. As for 
 their provisions, when their friends do not supply 
 them, they take what they need wherever they find 
 it, chiefly by intimidating the peasants. In the
 
 COELEONE 37 
 
 third matter they have large views. An ordinary 
 person is usually quite safe from them, especially 
 if armed, for they will not risk their lives for any- 
 thing so mean as higlnvay robbery. It is their 
 object to get possession of the persons of the rich- 
 est nobles and gentlemen, from whom they can ex- 
 tort a really large ransom. And if they once catch 
 such a personage they generally get the money, for 
 the practice of sending an ear or a piece of nose as 
 a reminder to relations is not extinct. Few Sicilian 
 gentlemen who have lands in the interior dare 
 visit their estates without a military escort when a 
 ' band ' is known to be in existence, as happens to 
 be the case at the present time of writing. 
 
 It chanced that such a band was gathered to- 
 gether, though not a large one, within a few years 
 of Pagliuca's death, and was leading a precarious 
 and nomadic life for a time not far from Santa 
 Vittoria. It was said that the Pagliuca men were 
 on good terms with these brigands, though of 
 course their mother knew nothing about it. In 
 the neighbourhood* no one thought much the worse 
 of the brothers for this. When brigands were 
 about, every man had to do the best he coiild for 
 himself. The Corleoiie, as many of the peasants 
 called them, were well armed, it is true, but they 
 were few and could not have resisted any depreda- 
 tions of the brigands by force. On the other hand, 
 they had the reputation of being brave and very
 
 88 COKLEONM 
 
 reckless young men, and even against odds might 
 send a bullet through anyone who tried to carry 
 off a couple of their sheep, or one of their mules. 
 They knew the country well, too, and might be 
 valuable allies to the carabineers, which meant 
 that they could be useful friends to the outlaws, 
 if they chose. Everyone knew that they were 
 poor and that it would not be worth while to take 
 one of them in the hope of a ransom, and no one 
 was surprised when it was hinted that they sold 
 provisions to the brigands for cash when they 
 could get it, and for credit when the brigands had 
 no money, a credit which was perfectly good until 
 the outlaws should be taken. 
 
 There was very little direct proof of this alli- 
 ance, and the Pagliuca denied it in terms which 
 did not invite further questioning. To make a 
 brilliant show of their perfect innocence, they led 
 a dozen carabineers about for two days through 
 a labyrinth of forest paths and hill passes, and 
 brought them three times in forty-eight hours to 
 places where a fire was still smouldering, and 
 remains of half-cooked meat were scattered about, 
 as though the brigands had fled suddenly at an 
 alarm. It was very well done, and they received 
 the officer's thanks for their efforts, with sincere 
 expressions of regret that they should have been 
 unsuccessful. In one of the (.-amps they even found 
 the skin of a sheep which they identified as one
 
 CORLEONE 39 
 
 of their own, with many loud-spoken curses, by 
 the brand on the back. It was all very well done, 
 and the result of it was that the carabineers often 
 applied for news of the brigands at Camaldoli, a 
 proceeding which of course kept the d'Oriani well 
 informed as to the whereabouts of the carabineers 
 themselves. 
 
 It was certainly as well in the end that Vittoria 
 should have stayed at the convent in Palermo 
 during those years, until the death of the old 
 Corleone suddenly changed the existence of her 
 mother and brothers. 
 
 He died, as has been said, without much cere- 
 mony in a small hotel at Nice. He died childless 
 and intestate, as well as ruined, so far as he knew 
 at the time of his death. The news reached Camal- 
 doli in the shape of a demand for money in pay- 
 ment of one of his just debts, from a money-lender 
 in Palermo who was aware of the existence of the 
 three Pagliuca brothers, and knew that they were 
 the Prince's heirs-at-law. 
 
 It took a whole* year to unravel the ruin of the 
 dead man's estate. What he had not sold was 
 mortgaged, and the mortgages had changed hands 
 repeatedly during the tremendous financial crisis 
 which began in 1888. There were debts of all 
 kinds, just and unjust, and creditors by the hun- 
 dred. The steward of the principal estate ab- 
 sconded with such cash as he happened to have
 
 40 CORLEONE 
 
 in hand, as soon as he heard of Corleone's death. 
 An obscure individual shot himself because the 
 steward owed him money, and this also was talked 
 of in the newspapers, and a good deal of printed 
 abuse was heaped upon the dead rake. But one 
 day Ferdinando Pagliuca entered the office of one 
 of the papers in Palermo, struck the editor in the 
 face, forced him into a duel, and ran him through 
 the lungs the next morning. The editor ultimately 
 recovered, but the Pagliuca had asserted them- 
 selves, and there was no more scurrilous talk in 
 the press about poor dead Corleone. 
 
 Things turned out to be not quite so bad as he 
 had imagined. Here and there, a little property 
 had escaped, perhaps because he hardly knew of 
 its existence. There was a small house in Rome, 
 in the new quarter, which he had bought for a 
 young person in whom he had been temporarily 
 interested, and which, by some miracle, was not 
 mortgaged. The mortgages on some of the princi- 
 pal estates in Sicily had found their way to the 
 capacious desk of the Marchese di San Giacinto, 
 whose name was Giovanni Saracinesca, and who 
 represented a branch of that family. San Giacinto 
 was enormously rich, and was a singular combina- 
 tion of old blood and modern instincts ; a man of 
 honour, but of terrible will and a good enemy ; a 
 man of very large views and of many great proj- 
 ects, some of which were already successfully
 
 CORLEONE 41 
 
 carried out, some in course of execution, some as 
 yet only planned. In the great crisis, he had 
 neither lost much nor profited immediately by the 
 disasters of others. No one called him grasping, 
 and yet everything worth having that came within 
 his long reach came sooner or later into his pos- 
 session. When land and houses lost value and 
 everything in the way of business was dull and 
 dead, San Giacinto was steadily buying. When 
 all had been excitement and mad speculation, he 
 had quietly saved his money and waited. And in 
 the course of his investments he had picked up 
 the best of the Corleone mortgages, without troub- 
 ling himself much as to whether the interest were 
 very regularly paid or not. Before long he knew 
 very well that it would not be paid at all, and 
 that the lands would fall to him when Corleone 
 should have completely ruined himself. 
 
 The Pagliuca family moved to Rome before the 
 settlement of the inheritance was finished, and 
 Vittoria was at last taken from the convent and 
 accompanied her mother. Ferdinando alone re- 
 mained at Camaldoli. The family established 
 themselves in an apartment in the new quarter, 
 and began to live well, if not extravagantly, on 
 what was still a very uncertain income. Tebaldo, 
 who managed all the business himself, succeeded 
 in selling the house in Rome advantageously. 
 Through San Giacinto he made acquaintance with
 
 42 CORLEONE 
 
 a few Romans, who treated him courteously and 
 regarded him with curiosity as the nephew of the 
 notorious Prince Corleone. As for the title, San 
 Giacinto advised him not to assume it at once, as 
 it would not be of any especial advantage to him. 
 
 San Giacinto was on excellent terms with all his 
 Saracinesca relations, and very naturally spoke to 
 them about the d'Oriani. In his heart he did not 
 like and did not trust Tebaldo, and thought his 
 brother Francesco little better; but, in spite of 
 this, he could not help feeling a sort of pity for 
 the two young men, whose story reminded him of 
 his own romantic beginnings. San Giacinto was 
 a giant in strength and stature, and it is undoubt- 
 edly true that in all giants a tendency to good- 
 nature and kindliness will sooner or later assert 
 itself. He was advancing in years now, and the 
 initial hardness of his rough nature had been tem- 
 pered by years of success and of almost phenome- 
 nal domestic felicity. He was strong still, in body 
 and mind, and not easily deceived; but he had 
 grown kind. He pitied the Pagliuca tribe, and 
 took his wife to see Donna Maria Carolina. He 
 persuaded the Princess of Sant' Ilario to receive 
 her and make acquaintance, and the Marchesa di 
 San Giacinto brought her to the palace one after- 
 noon with Vittoria. 
 
 Corona thought the mother pretentious, and 
 guessed that she was at once bad-tempered and
 
 CORLEONE 43 
 
 foolish; but she saw at a glance that the young 
 girl was of a very different type, and a few kindly 
 questions, while Donna Maria Carolina talked with 
 the Marchesa, explained to Corona the mystery. 
 Yittoria had never been at home, even for a visit, 
 during the ten years which had elapsed since she 
 had been placed at the convent, and her mother 
 was almost a stranger to her. She was not exactly 
 timid, as Corona could see, but her young grace 
 was delicately nurtured and shrank and froze in 
 the presence of her mother's coarse-grained self- 
 assertion. 
 
 " Shall we marry her in Rome, do you think, 
 Princess ? " asked Donna Maria Carolina, nodding 
 her head indicatively towards her daughter, while 
 her eyes looked at Corona, and she smiled with 
 much significance. 
 
 Vittoria's soft brown eyes grew suddenly bright 
 and hard, and the blood sprang up in her face as 
 though she had been struck, and her small hands 
 tightened quietly on her parasol; but she said 
 nothing, and looked down. 
 
 " I hope that your daughter may marry very 
 happily," said Corona, with a kind intonation, for 
 she saw the girl's embarrassment and understood it. 
 
 The Marchesa di San Giacinto laughed quite 
 frankly. Her laughter was good-humoured, not 
 noisy, and distinctly aristocratic, it is true; but 
 Vittoria resented it, because she knew that it was
 
 44 CORLEONE 
 
 elicited by her mother's remark, which had been 
 in bad taste. Corona saw this also. 
 
 " Yon always laugh at the mention of marriage, 
 Flavia," said the Princess, "and yet you are the 
 most happily married woman I know." 
 
 " Oh, that is true ! " answered the Marchesa. 
 " My giant is good to me, even now that my hair 
 is grey." 
 
 It was true that there were many silver threads 
 in the thick and waving hair that grew low over 
 her forehead, but her face had lost none of its 
 freshness, and her eyes had all their old vivacity. 
 She was of the type of women who generally live 
 to a great age. 
 
 Donna Maria Carolina rose to go. In saying 
 goodbye, Corona took Vittoria's hand. 
 
 " I am sorry that it is so late in the season, my 
 dear," she said. "You will have little to amuse 
 you until next year. But you must come to dinner 
 with your mother. Will you come, and bring her ? " 
 she asked, turning to Donna Maria Carolina. 
 
 The Marchesa di San Giacinto stared in well- 
 bred surprise, for Corona was not in the habit of 
 asking people to dinner at first sight. Of course 
 her invitation was accepted.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 SAN GIACINTO and his wife came to the dinner, 
 and two or three others, and the d'Oriaui made a 
 sort of formal entry into Roman society under 
 the best possible auspices. In spite of Corona's 
 good taste and womanly influence, festivities at 
 the Palazzo Saracinesca always had an impressive 
 and almost solemn character. Perhaps there were 
 too many men in the family, and they were all 
 too dark and grave, from the aged Prince to his 
 youngest grandson, who was barely of age, and 
 whose black eyebrows met over his Roman nose 
 and seemed to shade his eyes too much. Ippolito, 
 the exception in his family, as Vittoria d'Oriani 
 was in hers, did not appear at table, but came 
 into the drawing-room in the evening. The Prince 
 himself sat at the head of the table, and rarely 
 spoke. Corona could see that "he was not pleased 
 with the Pagliuca tribe, and she did her best to 
 help on conversation and to make Flavia San 
 Giacinto talk, as she could when she chose. 
 
 From time to time, she looked at Orsino, whose 
 face that evening expressed nothing, but whose 
 eyes were almost constantly turned towards Vit- 
 45
 
 46 CORLEOXE 
 
 toria. It had happened naturally enough that he 
 sat next to her, and it was an unusual experience 
 for him. Of course, in the round of society, he 
 occasionally found himself placed next to a young 
 girl at dinner, and he generally was thoroughly 
 bored on such occasions. It was either intentional 
 or accidental on the part of his hosts, whoever 
 they might be. If it was intentional, he had been 
 made to sit next to some particularly desirable 
 damsel of great birth and fortune, in the hope 
 that he might fall in love with her and make her 
 the future Princess Saracinesca. And he resented 
 in gloomy silence every such attempt to capture 
 him. If, on the other hand, he chanced to be acci- 
 dentally set down beside a young girl, it happened 
 according to the laws of precedence; and it was 
 ten to one that the young lady had nothing to 
 recommend her, either in the way of face, fortune, 
 or conversation. But neither case occurred often. 
 
 The present occasion was altogether exceptional. 
 Vittoria d'Oriani had never been to a dinner-party 
 before, and everything was new to her. It was 
 quite her hrst appearance in society, and Orsino 
 Saraciuesca was the first man who could be called 
 young, except her brothers, Avith whom she had 
 ever exchanged a dozen words. It was scarcely two 
 months since she had left the convent, and during 
 that time her mind had been constantly crowded 
 with new impressions, and as constantly irritated
 
 COELEONE 47 
 
 by her mother's manner and conversation. Her 
 education was undoubtedly very limited, though in 
 this respect it only differed in a small degree from 
 that of many young girls whom Orsino had met; 
 but it was liberal as compared with her mother's, 
 as her ideas upon religion were broad in comparison 
 with Donna Maria Carolina's complicated system of 
 superstition. 
 
 Yittoria's brown eyes were very wide open, as 
 she sat quietly in her place, listening to what was 
 said, and tasting a number of things which she had 
 never seen before. She looked often at Corona, 
 and wished that she might be like her some day, 
 which was quite impossible. And she glanced at 
 Orsino from time to time, and answered 'his re- 
 marks briefly and simply. She could not help 
 seeing that he was watching her, and now and 
 then the blood rose softly in her cheeks. On her 
 other side sat Gianbattista Pietrasanta, whose wife 
 was a Frangipani, and who was especially amused 
 and interested by .Vittoria's mother, his other 
 neighbour, but paid little attention to the young 
 girl herself. 
 
 A great writer has very truly said that psy- 
 chological analysis, in a book, can never be more 
 than a series of statements on the part of the 
 author, telling what he himself fancies that he 
 might have felt, could he have been placed in the 
 position of the particular person Avhom he is ana-
 
 48 CORLEONE 
 
 lyzing. It is extremely doubtful whether any male 
 writer can, by the greatest effort of imagination, 
 clothe himself in the ingenuous purity of thought 
 and intention which is the whole being of such 
 a young girl as Vittoria d'Oriani when she first 
 enters the world, after having spent ten years in 
 a religious community of refined women. 
 
 The creature we imagine, when we try to under- 
 stand such maiden innocence, is colourless and 
 dull. Her mind and heart are white as snow, but 
 blankly white, as the snow 011 a boundless plain, 
 without so much as a fence or a tree to relieve 
 the utter monotony. There is no beauty in such 
 whiteness in nature, except when it blushes at 
 dawn and sunset. Alone on snow, and with noth- 
 ing but snow in sight, men often go mad; for 
 snow-madness is a known and recognized form of 
 insanity. 
 
 Evidently our imagination fails to evoke a true 
 image in such a case. We are aware that maiden 
 innocence is a state, and not a form of character. 
 The difficulty lies in representing to ourselves a 
 definite character in just that state. For to the 
 word innocence we attach no narrow meaning; it 
 extends to every question which touches humanity, 
 to every motive in all dealings, and to every pur- 
 pose which, in that blank state, a girl attributes 
 to all human beings, living and dead. It is a 
 magic window through which all good things ap-
 
 COBLEONE 49 
 
 pear clearly, though not often truly, and all bad 
 things are either completely invisible, or seen in a 
 dull, neutral, and totally uninteresting shadow of 
 uniform misunderstanding. We judge that it must 
 be so, from our observation. This is not analysis, 
 but inspection. 
 
 Behind the blank lies, in the first place, the 
 temperament, then the character, then the mind, 
 and then that great, uncertain element of heredity, 
 monstrous or god-like, which animates and moves 
 all three in the gestation of unborn fate, and which 
 is fate itself in later life, so far as there is any 
 such thing as fatality. 
 
 Behind the blank there may be turbulent and 
 passionate blood, there may be a character of iron 
 and a man-ruling mind. But the blank is a blank, 
 for all that. Catherine of Russia was once an 
 innocent and quiet little German girl, with empty, 
 wondering eyes, and school-girl sentimentalities. 
 Goethe might have taken her f or- Werther's Char- 
 lotte. Good, bad, or indifferent, the future woman 
 is at the magic window, and all that she is to be 
 is within her already. 
 
 Vittoria d'Oriani was certainly not to be a Cath- 
 erine, but there was no lack of conflicting heredities 
 beneath her innocence. Orsino had thought more 
 than most young men of his age, and he was 
 aware of the fact, as he looked at her and talked 
 with her, and carried on one of those apparently 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 CORLEONE 
 
 empty conversations, of which the recollection 
 sometimes remains throughout a lifetime, while he 
 quietly studied her face, and tried to find out the 
 secret of its rare charm. 
 
 He began by treating her almost as a foreigner. 
 He remembered long afterwards how he smiled as 
 he asked her the first familiar question, as though 
 she had been an English girl, or Miss Lizzie Slay- 
 back, the heiress from Nevada. 
 
 " How do you like Eome ? " 
 
 " It is a great city," answered Vittoria. 
 
 " But you do not like it ? You do not think it 
 is beautiful ? " 
 
 " Of course, it is not Palermo," said the young 
 girl, quite naturally. " It has not the sea ; it has 
 not the mountains 
 
 " No mountains ? " interrupted Orsino, smiling. 
 " But there are mountains all round Koine." 
 
 "Not like Palermo," replied Vittoria, soberly. 
 " And then it has not the beautiful streets.'"' 
 
 " Poor Koine ! " Orsino laughed a little. " Not 
 even fine streets ! Have you seen nothing that 
 pleases you here?" 
 
 " Oh yes, there are fine houses, and I have seen 
 the Tiber, and the Queen, and " she stopped short. 
 
 " And what else ? " enquired Orsino, very much 
 amused. 
 
 Vittoria turned her brown eyes full upon him, 
 and paused a moment before she answered.
 
 CORLEONE 51 
 
 "You are making me say things which seem 
 foolish to you, though they seem sensible to me," 
 she said quietly. 
 
 "They seem original, not foolish. It is quite 
 true that Palermo is a beautiful city, but we 
 Romans forget it. And if you have never seen 
 another river, the Tiber is interesting, I suppose. 
 That is what you mean. No, it is quite reasonable." 
 
 Vittoria blushed a little, and looked down, only 
 half reassured. It was her first attempt at con- 
 versation, and she had said what she thought, 
 naturally and simply. She was not sure whether 
 the great dark young man, who had eyes exactly 
 like his mother's, was laughing at her or not. But 
 he did not know that she had never been to a party 
 in her life. 
 
 " Is the society in Palermo amusing ? " he en- 
 quired carelessly. 
 
 "I do not know," she answered, again blush- 
 ing, for she was a little ashamed of being so very 
 young. " I left thje convent on the day we started 
 to come to Rome. And my mother did not live in 
 Palermo," she added. 
 
 " No I had forgotten that." 
 
 Orsino relapsed into silence for a while. He 
 would willingly have given up the attempt at 
 conversation, so far as concerned any hope of 
 making it interesting. But he liked the sound 
 of Vittoria's voice, and he wished she Avould speak
 
 52 COR LEONE 
 
 again. On his right hand was Tebaldo, who, as 
 the head of a family, and not a Roman, sat next 
 to Corona. He seemed to be making her rather 
 bold compliments. Orsino caught a phrase. 
 
 " You are certainly the most beautiful woman in 
 Italy, Princess," the Sicilian was saying. 
 
 Orsino raised his head, and turned slowly towards 
 the speaker. As he did so, he saw his mother's 
 look. Her brows were a little contracted, which 
 was unusual, but she was just turning away to 
 speak to San Giacinto on her other side, with an 
 otherwise perfectly indifferent expression. Orsino 
 laughed. 
 
 " My mother has been the most beautiful woman 
 in Europe since before I was born," he said, ad- 
 dressing Tebaldo rather pointedly, for the latter's 
 remark had been perfectly audible to him. 
 
 Tebaldo had a thin face, with a square, narrow 
 forehead, and heavy jaws that came to an over- 
 pointed chin. His upper lip was very short, and 
 his moustache was unusually small, black and 
 glossy, and turned up at the ends in aggressive 
 points. His upper teeth were sharp, long, and 
 regular, and he showed them when he smiled. 
 The smile did not extend upwards above the 
 nostrils, and there was something almost sinister 
 in the still black eyes. In the front view the 
 lower part of the face was triangular, and the low 
 forehead made the upper portion seem square. He
 
 COELEONE 53 
 
 was a man of bilious constitution, of an even, 
 yellow-brown complexion, rather lank and bony in 
 frame, but of a type which is often very enduring. 
 Such men sometimes have violent and uncontrolled 
 tempers, combined with great cunning, quickness 
 of intelligence, and an extraordinary power of tak- 
 ing advantage of circumstances. 
 
 Tebaldo smiled at Orsino's remark, not at all 
 acknowledging that it might be intended as a 
 rebuke. 
 
 "It is hard to believe that she can be your 
 mother," he said quietly, and with such frankness 
 as completely disarmed resentment. 
 
 But Orsino in his thoughts contrasted Tebaldo's 
 present tone with the sound of his voice when 
 speaking to the Princess an instant earlier, and he 
 forthwith disliked the man, and believed him to be 
 false and double. Corona either had not heard, or 
 pretended not to hear, and talked indifferently 
 with San Giacinto, whose vast, lean frame seemed 
 to fill two places at the table, while his energetic 
 grey head towered high above everyone else. Or- 
 sino turned to Vittoria again. 
 
 " Should you be pleased if someone told you that 
 you were the most beautiful young lady in Italy ? " 
 he enquired. 
 
 Vittoria looked at him wonderingly. 
 
 " No," she answered. " It would not be true. 
 How should I be pleased ? "
 
 54 CORLEONE 
 
 "But suppose, for the sake of argument, that 
 it Avere true. I am imagining a case. Should you 
 be pleased ? " 
 
 " I do not know I think " She hesitated 
 and paused. 
 
 " I am very curious to know what you think," 
 said Orsino, pressing her for an answer. 
 
 " I think it would depend upon whether I liked 
 the person who told me so." Again the blood rose 
 softly in her face. 
 
 " That is exactly what I should think," answered 
 Orsino, gravely. "Were you sorry to leave the 
 convent ? " 
 
 " Yes, I cried a great deal. It was my home for 
 so many years, and I was so happy there." 
 
 The girl's eyes grew dreamy as she looked 
 absently across the table at Guendalina Pietra- 
 santa. She was evidently lost in her recollections 
 of her life with the nuns. Orsino was almost 
 amused at his own failure. 
 
 " Should you have liked to stay and be a nun 
 yourself ? " he enquired, with a smile. 
 
 ." Yes, indeed ! At least when I came away I 
 wished to stay." 
 
 " But you have changed your mind since ? You 
 find the world pleasanter than you expected ? It 
 is not a bad place, I daresay." 
 
 " They told me that it was very bad," said 
 Vittoria, seriously. " Of course, they must know,
 
 CORLEONE 55 
 
 but I do not quite understand what they mean. 
 Can you tell me something about it, and why it is 
 bad, and what all the wickedness is ? " 
 
 Orsiuo looked at her quietly for a moment, 
 realizing very clearly the whiteness of her life's 
 unwritten page. 
 
 " Your nuns may be right," he said at last. " I 
 am not in love Avith the world, but I do not believe 
 that it is so very wicked. At least, there are 
 many good people in it, and one can find them if 
 one chooses. No doubt, we are all miserable sin- 
 ners in a theological sense, but I am not a theo- 
 logian. I have a brother who is a priest, and you 
 will see him after dinner ; but though he is a very 
 good man, he does not give one the impression of 
 believing that the world is absolutely bad. It is 
 true that he is rather a dilettante priest." 
 
 Vittoria was evidently shocked, for her face grew 
 extraordinarily grave and a shade paler. She 
 looked at Orsino in a startled way and then at 
 her plate. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he asked quickly. 
 "Have I shocked you?" 
 
 " Yes," she answered, almost in a whisper and 
 still looking down. " That is," she added with hesi- 
 tation, " perhaps I did not quite understand you." 
 
 " No, you did not, if you are shocked. I merely 
 meant that although my brother is a very good 
 man, and a very religious man, and believes that
 
 56 COIiLEONE 
 
 he has a vocation, and does his best to be a good 
 priest, he has other interests in life for which I 
 am sure that he cares more, though he may not 
 know it." 
 
 "What other interests?" asked Vittoria, rather 
 timidly. 
 
 "Well, only one, perhaps, music. He is a 
 musician first, and a priest afterwards." 
 
 The young girl's face brightened instantly. She 
 had expected something very terrible, perhaps, 
 though quite undefined. 
 
 "He says mass in the morning," continued Or- 
 sino, " and it may take him an hour or so to read 
 his breviary conscientiously in the afternoon. The 
 rest of his time he spends over the piano." 
 
 " But it is not profane music ? " asked Vittoria, 
 giwving anxious again. 
 
 " Oh no ! " Orsino smiled. " He composes 
 masses and symphonies and motetts." 
 
 " Well, there is no harm in that," said Vittoria, 
 indifferently, being again reassured. 
 
 "Certainly not. I wish I had the talent and the 
 interest in it to do it myself. I believe that the 
 chief real wickedness is doing nothing at all." 
 
 " Sloth is one of the capital sins," observed Vit- 
 toria, who knew the names of all seven. 
 
 "It is also the most tiresome sin imaginable, 
 especially when one is condemned to it for life, 
 as I am."
 
 CORLEONE 57 
 
 The young girl looked at him anxiously, and 
 there was a little pause. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " she asked. " No one is 
 obliged to be idle." 
 
 " Will you find me an occupation? " Orsino asked 
 in his turn, and with some bitterness. " I shall be 
 gratified." 
 
 " Is not doing good an occupation ? I am sure 
 that there must be plenty of opportunities for 
 that." 
 
 She felt more sure of herself when upon such 
 ground. Orsino did not smile. 
 
 " Yes. It might take up a man's whole life, but 
 it is not a career " 
 
 " It was the career of many of the saints ! " inter- 
 rupted "Vittoria, cheerfully, for she was beginning 
 to feel at her ease at last. " Saint Francis of Assisi 
 Saint Clare Saint " 
 
 " Pray for us ! " exclaimed Orsino, as though he 
 were responding in a litany. 
 
 Vittoria's face fell instantly, and he regretted 
 the words as soon as he had spoken them. She 
 was like a sensitive plant, he thought; and yet 
 she had none of the appearance of an over- 
 impressionable, nervous girl. It was doubtless her 
 education. 
 
 "I have shocked you again," he said gravely. 
 " I am sorry, but I am afraid that you will often 
 be shocked, at first. Yes ; I have no doubt that to
 
 58 COELEONE 
 
 the saints doing good was a career, and that a saint 
 might make a career of it nowadays. But you see 
 I am not one. What I should like would be to 
 have a profession of some sort, and to work at it 
 with all my might." 
 
 " What a strange idea ! " Vittoria looked at him 
 in surprise; for though her three brothers had 
 been almost beggars for ten years, it had never 
 struck them that they could possibly have a pro- 
 fession. "But you are a noble," she added 
 thoughtfully. " You will be the Prince Saraci- 
 nesca some day." 
 
 Orsino laughed. 
 
 " We do not think so much of those things as 
 we did once," he answered. " I would be a doctor, 
 if I could, or a lawyer, or a man of business. I do 
 not think that I should like to be a shopkeeper, 
 though it is only a matter of prejudice " 
 
 " I should think not ! " cried Vittoria, startled 
 again. 
 
 " It would be much more interesting than the life 
 I lead. Almost any life would be, for that matter. 
 Of course, if I had my choice " He stopped. 
 
 Vittoria waited, her eyes fixed earnestly on his 
 face, but she said nothing. Somehow she was 
 suddenly anxious to know what his choice would 
 be. He felt that she was watching him, and turned 
 towards her. Their eyes met in silence, and he 
 smiled, but her face remained grave. He was
 
 COELEONE 59 
 
 thinking that this must certainly be one of the 
 most absurd conversations in which he had ever 
 been engaged, but that somehow it did not appear 
 absurd to himself, and he wondered why. 
 
 "If I had my choice He paused again. 
 "I would be a leader," he added suddenly. 
 
 He was still young, and there was ambition in 
 him. His dark eyes flashed like his mother's, a 
 warmer colour rose for one instant under his olive 
 skin; the fine, firm mouth set itself. 
 
 " I think you could be," said Vittoria, almost 
 under her breath and half unconsciously. 
 
 Then, all at once, she blushed scarlet, and turned 
 her face away to hide her colour. If there is one 
 thing in woman which more than any other attracts 
 a misunderstood man, it is the conviction that she 
 believes him capable of great deeds ; and if there 
 is one thing beyond others which leads a woman 
 to love a man, it is her own certainty that he is 
 really superior to those around him, and really 
 needs woman's sympathy. Youth, beauty, charm, 
 eloquence, are all second to these in their power to 
 implant genuine loVe, or to maintain it, if they 
 continue to exist as conditions. 
 
 It mattered little to Vittoria that she had as 
 yet no means whatever of judging whether Orsino 
 Saracinesca had any such extraordinary powers as 
 might some day make him a leader among men. 
 She had been hardly conscious of the strong im-
 
 60 COELEONE 
 
 pression she had received, and which had made 
 her speak, and she was far too young and simple 
 to argne with herself about it. And he, on his 
 part, with a good deal of experience behind him 
 and the memory of one older woman's absolute 
 devotion and sacrifice, felt a keen and unexpected 
 pleasure, quite different from anything he remem- 
 bered to have felt before now. Nor did he reason 
 about it at first, for he was not a great reasoner and 
 his pleasures in life were really very few. 
 
 A moment or two after Vittoria had spoken/ and 
 when she had already turned away her face, Orsino 
 shook his head almost imperceptibly, as though 
 trying to throw something off which annoyed him. 
 It was near the end of dinner before the two spoke 
 to each other again, though Vittoria half turned 
 towards him twice in the mean time, as though 
 expecting him to speak, and then, disappointed, 
 looked at her plate again. 
 
 " Are you going to stay in Rome, or shall yon go 
 back to Sicily ? " he asked suddenly, not looking 
 at her, but at the small white hand that touched 
 the edge of the table beside him. 
 
 Vittoria started perceptibly at the sound of his 
 voice, as though she had been in a reverie, and her 
 hand disappeared at the same instant. Orsino 
 found himself staring at the tablecloth, at the 
 spot where it had lain. 
 
 " I think I hope we shall stay in Rome," she
 
 CORLEONE 61 
 
 answered. " My brother has a great deal of busi- 
 ness here." 
 
 "Yes. I know. He sees my cousin San Gia- 
 cinto about it almost every day." 
 
 Yes." 
 
 Her face grew thoughtful again, but not dreamily 
 so as before, and she seemed to hesitate, as though 
 she had more to say. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Orsino, encouraging her 
 to go on. 
 
 " Perhaps I ought not to tell you. The Marchese 
 wishes to buy Cainaldoli of us." 
 
 "What is Camaldoli?" 
 
 " It is the old country house where my mother 
 and my brothers lived so long, Avhile I Avas in the 
 convent, after my father died. There is a little 
 land. It was all we had until now." 
 
 " Shall you be glad if it is sold, or sorry ? " 
 asked Orsino, thoughtfully, and watching her face. 
 
 " I shall be glad, I suppose," she answered. 
 " It would have to be divided among us, they say. 
 And it is half in ruins, and the land is worth 
 nothing, and there are always brigands." 
 
 Orsino laughed. 
 
 " Yes. I should think you might be very glad 
 to get rid of it. There is no difficulty about it, is 
 there ? " 
 
 " Only I have another brother. He likes it 
 and has remained there. His name is Ferdinando.
 
 62 COR LEONE 
 
 Xo one knows why he is so fond of the place. 
 They need his consent, in order to sell it, and he 
 will not agree." 
 
 " I understand. What sort of man is your brother 
 Ferdinando ? " 
 
 " I have not seen him for ten years. They are 
 afraid of I mean, he is afraid of nothing." 
 
 There was something odd, Orsino thought, about 
 the way the young girl shut her lips when she 
 checked herself in the middle of the sentence, 
 but he had no idea what she had been about to 
 say. Just then Corona nodded slightly to the 
 aged Prince at the other end of the table, and 
 dinner was over. 
 
 " I should think it would be necessary for San 
 Giacinto to see this other brother of yours," ob- 
 served Orsino, finishing the conversation as he 
 rose and stood ready to take Vittoria out. 
 
 The little ungloved hand lay like a white butter- 
 fly on his black sleeve, and she had to raise her 
 arm a little to take his, though she was not short. 
 Just before them went San Giacinto, darkening 
 the way like a figure of fate. Vittoria looked up 
 at him, almost awe-struck at his mere size. 
 
 " How tall he is ! " she exclaimed in a very low 
 voice. ' How very tall he is ! " she said again. 
 
 " We are used to him," answered Orsino, with a 
 short laugh. " But he has a big heart, though he 
 looks so grim."
 
 CORLEONE 63 
 
 Half an hour later, when the men were smoking 
 in a room by themselves, San Giacinto came and 
 sat down by Orsino in the remote corner where the 
 latter had established himself, with a cigarette. 
 The giant, as ever of old, had a villainous looking 
 black cigar between his teeth. 
 
 "Do you want something to do?" he asked 
 bluntly. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Do you care to live in Sicily for a time ? " 
 
 "Anywhere Japan, if you like." 
 
 " You are easily pleased. That means that you 
 are not in love just at present, I suppose." 
 
 San Giacinto looked hard at his young cousin 
 for some time, in silence. Orsino met his glance 
 quietly, but with some curiosity. 
 
 "Do you ever go to see the Countess Del 
 Ferice?" asked the big man at last. 
 
 Orsino straightened himself in his chair and 
 frowned a little, and then looked away as he 
 answered by a cross-question, knocking the ash 
 off his cigarette upon a little rock crystal dish at 
 his elbow. 
 
 " Why do you ask me that ? " he enquired 
 rather sternly. 
 
 " Because you were very much attracted by her 
 once, and I wished to know whether you had kept 
 up the acquaintance since her marriage." 
 
 " I have kept up the acquaintance and no
 
 64 CORLEONE 
 
 more," answered Orsino, meeting his cousin's eyes 
 again. "I go to see the Countess from time to 
 time. I believe we are on very good terms." 
 
 "Will you go to Sicily with me if I need you, 
 and stay there, and get an estate in order for me ? " 
 
 "With pleasure. When?" 
 
 " I do not know yet. It may be in a week, or it 
 may be in a month. It will be hot there, and you 
 will have troublesome things to do." 
 
 "So much the better." 
 
 " There are brigands in the neighbourhood just 
 now." 
 
 " That will be very amusing. I never saw one." 
 
 " You may tell Ippolito if you like, but please 
 do not mention it to anyone else until we are 
 ready to go. You know that your mother will be 
 anxious about you, and your father is a conserva- 
 tive and your grandfather is a firebrand, if he 
 dislikes an idea. One would think that at his age 
 his temper should have subsided." 
 
 " Not in the least ! " Orsino smiled, for he loved 
 the old man, and was proud of his great age. 
 
 " But you may tell Ippolito if you like, and if 
 you warn him to be discreet. Ippolito would let 
 himself be torn in pieces rather than betray a 
 secret. He is by far the most discreet of you all." 
 
 "Yes. You are right, as usual. You have a 
 good eye for a good man. What do you think of 
 all these Pagliuca people, or Corleone, or d'Oriani
 
 COBLEONE 65 
 
 or whatever they call themselves ? " Orsino 
 looked keenly at his cousin as he asked the 
 question. 
 
 " Did you ever meet Corleone ? I mean the 
 one who married Norba's daughter, the uncle 
 of these boys." 
 
 " I met him once. From all accounts, he must 
 have been a particularly disreputable personage." 
 
 "He was worse than that, I think. I never 
 blamed his wife. Well these boys are his 
 nephews. I do not see that any comment is nec- 
 essary." San Giacinto smiled thoughtfully. 
 
 "This young girl is also his niece," observed 
 Orsino, rather sharply. 
 
 " Who knows what Tebaldo Pagliuca might have 
 been if he had spent ten years amongst devout old 
 women in a convent?" The big man's smile de- 
 veloped into an incredulous laugh, in which Orsino 
 joined. 
 
 " There has certainly been a difference of educa- 
 tion," he admitted. " I like her." 
 
 "You would confer a great benefit upon a dis- 
 tressed family, by falling in love with her," said 
 San Giacinto. " That Avorthy mother of hers was 
 watching you two behind Pietrasanta's head, during 
 dinner." 
 
 "Another good reason for going to Sicily," an- 
 swered Orsino. " The young lady is communica- 
 tive. She told me, this evening, that you were 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 COR LEONE 
 
 trying to buy some place of theirs, 1 forget the 
 name, and that one of her brothers objects." 
 
 " That is exactly the place I want you to manage. 
 The name is Camaldoli." 
 
 "Then there is no secret about it," observed 
 Orsino. " If she has told me, she may tell the next 
 man she meets." 
 
 "Certainly. And mysteries are useless, as a 
 rule. I do not wish to make any with you, at all 
 events. Here are the facts. I am going to build 
 , a light railway connecting all those places ; and I 
 am anxious to get the land into my possession, 
 without much talk. Do you understand? This 
 place of the Corleoiie is directly in my line, and 
 is one of the most important, because it is at a 
 point through which I must pass, to make the 
 railway at all, short of an expensive tunnel. Your 
 management will simply consist in keeping things 
 in order until the railway makes the laud valuable. 
 Then I shall sell it, of course." 
 
 " I see. Very well. Could you not give my old 
 architect something to do ? Andrea Con tin i is his 
 name. The houses we built for Del Ferice have 
 all turned out well, you know." Orsino laughed 
 rather bitterly. 
 
 " Remind me of him at the proper time," said 
 San Giacinto. "Tell him to learn something about 
 building small railway stations. There will be 
 between fifteen and twenty, altogether."
 
 COELEONE 67 
 
 "I will. But do you expect that a railway 
 in Sicily will ever pay you?" 
 
 "No. I am not an idiot." 
 
 " Then why do you build one, if that is not an 
 indiscreet question ? " 
 
 "The rise in the value of all the land I buy 
 will make it worth while, several times over. It 
 is quite simple." 
 
 " It must take an enormous capital," said Orsino, 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 "It needs a large sum of ready money. But 
 the lands are generally mortgaged for long periods, 
 and almost to two-thirds of their selling value. 
 The holders of the mortgages do not care who 
 owns the land. So I pay about one-third in 
 cash." 
 
 " What becomes of the value of a whole country, 
 when all the land is mortgaged for two-thirds of 
 what it is worth?" asked Orsino, carelessly, and 
 half laughing. 
 
 But San Giacinto did not laugh. 
 
 "I have thought about that," he answered 
 gravely. " When the yield of the land is not 
 enough to pay the interest on the mortgages, the 
 taxes to the government, and some income to the 
 owners, they starve outright, or emigrate. There 
 is a good deal of starvation nowadays, and a good 
 deal of emigration in search of bread." 
 
 " And yet they say that the value of land is
 
 68 CORLEONE 
 
 increasing almost all over the country," objected 
 Orsino. " You count on it yourself." 
 
 "The value rises wherever railways and roads 
 are built." 
 
 "And what pays for the railways?" 
 
 "The taxes." 
 
 "And the people pay the taxes." 
 
 "Exactly. And the taxes are enormous. The 
 people in places remote from the projected railway 
 are ruined by them, but the people who own land 
 where the railways pass are indirectly very much 
 enriched by the result. Sometimes a private indi- 
 vidual like myself builds a light road. I think 
 that is a source of wealth, in the end, to every- 
 one. But the building of the government roads, 
 like the one down the west coast of Calabria, 
 seems to destroy the balance of wealth and increase 
 emigration. It is a necessary evil." 
 
 " There are a good many necessary evils in our 
 country," said Orsino. " There are too many." 
 
 " Per aspera ad astra. I never knew much Latin, 
 but I believe that means something. There are 
 also unnecessary evils, such as brigandage in Sicily, 
 for instance. You can amuse yourself by fighting 
 that one, if you please; though I have no doubt 
 that the brigands will often travel by my railway 
 and they will certainly go in the first class." 
 
 The big man laughed and rose, leaving Orsino 
 to meditate upon the prospect of occupation which 
 was opened to him.
 
 ORSINO remained in his corner a few minutes, 
 after San Giacinto had left him, and then rose to 
 go into the drawing-room. As he went he passed 
 the other men who were seated and standing, all 
 near together and not far from the empty fireplace, 
 listening to Tebaldo Pagliuca, who was talking 
 about Sicily with a very strong Sicilian accent. 
 Orsino paused a moment to hear what he was 
 saying. He was telling the story of a frightful 
 murder committed in the outskirts of Palermo not 
 many weeks earlier, and about which there had 
 been much talk. But Tebaldo was on his own 
 ground and knew much more about it than had 
 appeared in the newspapers. His voice was not 
 unpleasant. It was smooth, though his words 
 were broken here and there by gutturals which he 
 had certainly not learned on his own side of the 
 island. There was a sort of reserve in the tones 
 which contrasted with the vividness of the lan- 
 guage. Orsino watched him and looked at him 
 more keenly than he had done as yet. He was 
 struck by the stillness of the deep eyes, which 
 were slightly bloodshot, like those of some Arabs, 
 69
 
 70 CORLEONE 
 
 and at the same time by the mobility and changing 
 expression of the lower part of the face. Tebaldo 
 made gestures, too, which had a singular directness. 
 Yet the whole impression given was that he was 
 a good actor rather than a man of continued, honest 
 action, and that he could have performed any other 
 part as well. Near him stood his brother Fran- 
 cesco. There was doubtless a family resemblance 
 between the two, but the difference of constitution 
 was apparent to the most unpractised eye. The 
 younger man was stouter, more sanguine, less 
 nervous. The red blood glowed with strong health 
 under his brown skin, his lips were scarlet and 
 full, his dark moustache was soft and silky like 
 his short, smooth hair, and his eyes were soft, 
 too, and moistly bright, very long, with heavy 
 drooping lids that were whiter than the skin of 
 the rest of the face. Francesco was no more like 
 his sister than was Tebaldo. 
 
 Orsino found himself by his father as he paused 
 in passing, and he suddenly realized how immeas- 
 urably nearer he was to this strong, iron-grey, 
 middle-sized, silent man beside him, than to any 
 other one of all the men in the room, including 
 his own brothers. Sant' Ilario had perhaps never 
 understood his eldest son; or perhaps there was 
 between them the insurmountable barrier of his 
 own solid happiness. For it is sorrow that draws 
 men together. Happiness needs no sympathy;
 
 CORLEONE 71 
 
 happiness is not easily disturbed; happiness that 
 is solidly founded is itself a most negative source 
 of the most all-pervading virtue, without the least 
 charity for unhappiness' sins ; happiness suffices 
 to itself; happiness is a lantern to its own feet; 
 it is all things to one man and nothing to all the 
 rest ; it is an impenetrable wall between him who 
 has it and mankind. And Sant' Ilario had been 
 happy for nearly thirty years. In appearance, as 
 was to be anticipated, he had turned out to be like 
 his father, as the latter had been at the same age. 
 In temper, he was different, as the conditions of 
 his life had been of another sort. The ancient 
 head of the house had lost his Spanish wife when 
 very young, and had lived many years alone with 
 his only son. Giovanni had met with no such 
 misfortune. His wife was alive and still beautiful 
 at an age when many women have forgotten the 
 taste of flattery ; and his four sons were all grown 
 men, straight and tall, so that he looked up to their 
 faces when they stood beside him. Strong, peace- 
 able, honest, rather hard-faced young men, they 
 were, excepting Ip^polito, the second of them, who 
 had talent and a lovable disposition in place of 
 strength and hardness of character. 
 
 They were fond of their father, no doubt, and 
 there was great solidarity in the family. But what 
 they felt for Sant' Ilario was perhaps more like an 
 allegiance than an affection, and they looked to
 
 72 COR LEONE 
 
 him as the principal person of importance in the 
 family, because their grandfather was such a very 
 old man. They were accustomed to take it for 
 granted that he was infallible when he expressed 
 himself definitely in a family matter, whereas they 
 had no very high opinion of his judgment in topics 
 and questions of the day ; for they had received a 
 modern education, and were to some extent imbued 
 with those modern prejudices compared with which 
 the views of our fathers hardly deserved the name 
 of a passing caprice. 
 
 Orsino thought that there was something at once 
 cunning and ferocious about Tebaldo's way of tell- 
 ing the story. He had a fine smile of appreciation 
 for the secrecy and patience of the two young men 
 who had sought occasion against their sister's lover, 
 and there was a squaring of the angular jaws and 
 a quick forward movement of the head, as of a 
 snake when striking, to accompany his description 
 of the death-blow. Orsino listened to the end and 
 then went quietly out and returned to the drawing- 
 room. 
 
 Vittoria d'Oriani was seated near Corona, who 
 was talking to her in a low tone. The other ladies 
 were standing together before a famous old picture. 
 The Marchesa di San Giacinto was smoking a 
 cigarette. Orsino sat down by his mother, who 
 looked at him quietly and smiled, and then went 
 on speaking. The young girl glanced at Orsino.
 
 CORLEONE 73 
 
 She was leaning forward, one elbow on her knee, 
 ami her chin supported in her hand, her lips a 
 little parted as she listened Avith deep interest to 
 what the elder woman said. Corona was telling 
 her of Rome many years earlier, of the life in those 
 days, of Pius the Ninth, and of the coming of the 
 Italians. 
 
 " How can you remember things that happened 
 when you were so young!" exclaimed Vittoria, 
 Avatching the calm and beautiful face. 
 
 "I was older than you even then," answered 
 Corona, Avith a smile. " And I married very 
 young," she added thoughtfully. " I Avas married 
 at your age, I think. How old are you, my dear?" 
 
 " I am eighteen just eighteen," replied Vittoria. 
 
 " I was married Avhen I Avas scarcely seventeen. 
 It Avas too young." 
 
 " But you have always been so happy. Why do 
 you say that ? " 
 
 " What makes you think that I have always 
 been happy ? " asked the Princess. 
 
 "Your face, I think. One or tAvo of the nuns 
 Avere very happy, toQ. But it Avas different. They 
 had quite another look on their faces." 
 
 " I daresay," answered Corona, and she smiled 
 again, and looked proudly at Orsino. 
 
 She rose and crossed the room, feeling that she 
 Avas neglecting her older guests for the young girl, 
 Avho Avas thus left Avith Orsino asrain. He did not
 
 74 COJILEONE 
 
 see Donna Maria Carolina's quick glance as she 
 discovered the fact, and made sure of it, looking 
 again and again at the two while she joined a little 
 in the conversation which was going on around 
 her. She was very happy, just then, poor lady, 
 and almost forgot to struggle against the accunm- 
 lated provincialisms of twenty years, or to be anx- 
 ious lest her new friends should discover that her 
 pearls were false. For the passion for ornament, 
 false or real, had not diminished with the improve- 
 ment in her fortunes. 
 
 But Orsino was not at all interested in Vittoria's 
 mother, and he had seen too much to care whether 
 women wore real jewelry or not. He had almost 
 forgotten the young girl after dinner when he had 
 sat down in the corner of the smoking-room, but 
 San Giacinto's remark had vividly recalled her 
 face to his memory, with a strong desire to see 
 her again at once. Nothing was easier than to 
 satisfy such a wish, and he found himself by her 
 side. 
 
 Once there, he did not trouble himself to speak 
 to her for several moments. Vittoria showed con- 
 siderable outward self-possession, though it was 
 something of an ordeal to sit in silence, almost 
 touching him and not daring to speak, while he 
 was apparently making up his mind what to say. 
 It had been much easier during dinner, she thought, 
 because she had been put in her place without
 
 COBLEONE 75 
 
 being consulted, and was expected to be there, with- 
 out the least idea of attracting attention. Now, 
 she felt a little dizzy for a moment, as though the 
 room were swaying ; and she was afraid that she was 
 going to blush, which would have been ridiculous. 
 
 ISTow, he was looking at her, while she looked 
 down at her little white fan that lay on the white 
 stuff of her frock, quite straight, between her two 
 small, white-gloved hands. The nuns had not told 
 her what to do in any such situation. Still Orsino 
 did not speak. Two minutes had crawled by, like 
 two hours, and she felt a fluttering in her throat. 
 
 It was absurd, she thought. There was no reason 
 for being so miserable. Very probably, he was not 
 thinking of her at all. But it was of no use to 
 tell herself such things, for her embarrassment 
 grew apace, till she felt that she must spring from 
 her seat and run from the room without looking 
 at him. The fluttering became almost convulsive, 
 and her hands pressed the little fan on each side, 
 clenching themselves tightly. Still he did not 
 speak. 
 
 In utter despair she began to recite inwardly 
 the litany of the saints, biting her lips lest they 
 should move and he should guess what she was 
 doing. In her suppressed excitement the holy per- 
 sonages raced and tumbled over each other at a 
 most unseemly rate, till the procession was vio- 
 lently checked by the gravely indifferent tones of
 
 76 CORLEONE 
 
 Orsino's voice. Her hands relaxed, and she turned 
 a little pale. 
 
 " Have yon been to Saint Peter's ? " he enquired 
 calmly. 
 
 He was certainly not embarrassed, but he could 
 think of nothing better to say to a young girl. 
 On the first occasion, at dinner, he had asked her 
 how she liked Rome. At all events it had opened 
 the conversation. He remembered well enough the 
 half dozen earnest words they had exchanged ; and 
 there was something more than mere memory, for 
 he knew that he half wished they might reach the 
 same point again. Perhaps, if the wish had been 
 stronger and if Vittoria had been a little older, it 
 might have been easier. 
 
 " Yes," she said. " My mother took me as soon 
 as we came. She was very anxious that we should 
 pay our devotion to the patron saint." 
 
 Orsino smiled a little. 
 
 . "Saint Peter is not the patron of Rome," he 
 observed. "Our protector is San Filippo Neri." 
 
 Vittoria looked up in genuine surprise. 
 
 " Saint Peter is not the patron saint of Rome ! " 
 she exclaimed. " But I always thought " 
 
 " Naturally enough. All sorts of things in Rome 
 seem to be what they are not. We seem to be 
 alive, for instance. We are not. Six or seven 
 years ago we were all in a frantic state of excite- 
 ment over our greatness. We have turned out to
 
 CORLEONE 77- 
 
 be nothing but a set of embalmed specimens in 
 glass cases. Do not look so much surprised, sig- 
 noriua or shocked which is it ? " 
 
 He laughed a little. 
 
 "I cannot help it," answered Vittoria, simply, 
 her brown eyes still fixed on him in wonder. " It 
 is it is all so different from what I expected 
 the things people say " She hesitated and 
 stopped short, turning her eyes from him. 
 
 The light was strong in the room, for the aged 
 Prince hated the modern fashion of shading lamps 
 almost to a dusk. Orsino watched Vittoria's pro- 
 file, and the graceful turn of her young throat as 
 she looked away, and the fine growth of silky hair 
 from the ' temples and behind the curving little 
 ear. The room was warm, and he sat silently 
 watching her for a moment. She was no longer 
 embarrassed, for she was not thinking of herself, 
 and she did not know how he was thinking of her 
 just then. 
 
 "I wonder what you expected us to be like," 
 he said at last. ".And what you expected us to 
 say," he added as an afterthought. 
 
 It crossed his mind that if she had been a mar- 
 ried woman three or four years older, he might 
 have found her very amusing in conversation. He 
 could certainly not have been talking in detached 
 and almost idiotic phrases, as he was actually 
 doing. But if she had been a young married
 
 78 CORLEONE 
 
 woman, her charm would have been different, and 
 of a kind not new to him. There was a novelty 
 about Vittoria, and it attracted him strongly. There 
 was real freshness and untried youth in her ; she 
 had that sort of delicacy which some flowers have, 
 and which is not fragility, the bloom of a precious 
 thing fresh broken from the mould and not yet 
 breathed upon. He wondered whether all young 
 girls had this inexpressible something, and if so, 
 why he had never noticed it. 
 
 " I am not quite sure," answered Vittoria, blush- 
 ing a little at the thought that she could have had 
 a preconceived idea of Orsino Saracinesca. 
 
 The reply left everything to be desired in the 
 way of brilliancy, but the voice was soft and ex- 
 pectant, as some women's voices are, that seem just 
 upon the point of vibrating to a harmonic while 
 yielding the fundamental tone in all its roundness. 
 There are rare voices that seem to possess a dis- 
 tinct living individuality, apart from the women 
 to whom they belong, a sort of extra-natural musi- 
 cal life, of which the woman herself cannot con- 
 trol nor calculate the power. It is not the ' golden 
 voice ' which some great actresses have. One 
 recognizes that at the first hearing; one admits 
 its beauty; one hears it three or four times, and 
 one knows it by heart. It will pronounce certain 
 phrases in a certain way, inevitably; it will soften 
 and swell and ring with mathematical precision at
 
 CORLEONE 79 
 
 the same verse, at the identical word, night after 
 night, year after year, while it lasts. Vittoria's 
 voice was not like that. It had the spontaneity 
 of independent life which a passion itself has 
 when it takes possession of a man or a woman. 
 Orsino felt it, and was conscious of a new sensi- 
 tiveness in himself. 
 
 On the whole, to make a very Avide statement of 
 a general truth, Italian men are moved by sense 
 and Italian women are stirred by passion. Be- 
 tween passion and sense there is all the difference 
 that exists between the object and the idea. Sense 
 appreciates, passion idealizes ; sense desires all 
 things, passion hungers for one ; sense is material, 
 though ever so aesthetized and refined, but passion 
 clothes fact with unearthly attributes ; sense is 
 singly selfish, passion would make a single self of 
 two. The sensual man says, ' To have seen much 
 and to have little is to have rich eyes and poor 
 hands ' ; the passionate man or woman will ' put 
 it to the test, to win or lose it all,' like Montrose. 
 Sense is vulgar wheirit is not monstrous in strength, 
 or hysterical to madness. Passion is always noble, 
 even in its sins and crimes. Sense can be satisfied, 
 and its satisfaction is a low sort of happiness ; but 
 passion's finer strings can quiver with immortal 
 pain, and ring with the transcendent harmony that 
 wakes the hero even in a coward's heart. 
 
 Vittoria first touched Orsiuo by her outward
 
 80 CORLEONE 
 
 charm, by her voice, by her grace. But it was his. 
 personality, or her spontaneous imagination of it, 
 which made an indelible impression upon her mind 
 before the first evening of their acquaintance was 
 over. The woman who falls in love with a man 
 for his looks alone is not of a very high type, but 
 the best and bravest men that ever lived have 
 fallen victims to mere beauty, often without much 
 intelligence, or faith, or honour. 
 
 Orsino was probably not aware that he was fall- 
 ing in love at first sight. Very few men are, and 
 yet very many people certainly begin to fall in 
 love at a first meeting, who would scout the idea 
 as an absurdity. For love's beginnings are most 
 exceedingly small in the greatest number of in- 
 stances. Were they greater, a man might guard 
 himself more easily against his fate.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 AT that time a young Sicilian singer had lately 
 made her first appearance in Rome and had been, 
 received with great favour. She was probably not 
 destined ever to become one of the chief artists 
 of the age, but she possessed exactly the qualifi- 
 cations necessary to fascinate a Roman audience. 
 She was very young, she was undeniably beautiful, 
 and she had what Romans called a 'sympathetic' 
 voice. They think more of that latter quality in 
 Italy than elsewhere. It is what in English we 
 might call charm, and to have it is to have the 
 certainty of success with an Italian public. 
 
 Aliandra Basili was the daughter of a respect- 
 able notary in the ancient town of Randazzo, 
 which lies on the western slope of Mount Etna, 
 on the high road from Piedimonte to Bronte and 
 Catania, within two hours' ride of Camaldoli, the 
 Corleone place. It is a solemn old walled town, 
 built of almost black tufo, though many of the 
 houses on the main street have now been stuccoed 
 and painted ; and it has a very beautiful Saracen- 
 Norman cathedral. 
 
 Aliandra's life had been very like that of any 
 
 VOL. I. G 81
 
 82 CORLEONE 
 
 other provincial girl of the middle class. She had 
 been educated in a small convent, while her excel- 
 lent father, whose wife was dead, laboured to ac- 
 cumulate a little dowry for his only child. At 
 fifteen years of age, she had returned to live with 
 him, and he had entertained good hopes of marry- 
 ing her off before she was seventeen. In fact, 
 he thought that he had only to choose among a 
 number of young men, of whom any one would 
 be delighted to become her husband. 
 
 Then, one day, Tebaldo and Francesco Pagliuca 
 came riding down from Camaldoli, and stopped 
 at the notary's house to get a small lease drawn 
 up ; and while they Avere there, in the dusty office, 
 doing their best to be sure of what old Basili's 
 legal language meant, they heard Aliandra singing 
 to herself upstairs. After that they came to Ran- 
 dazzo again, both separately and together, and at 
 last they persuaded old Basili that his daughter 
 had a fortune in her voice and should be allowed 
 to become a singer. He consented after a long 
 struggle, and sent her to Messina to live with a 
 widowed sister of his, and to be taxight by an old 
 master of great reputation who had taken up his 
 abode there. Very possibly Basili agreed to this 
 step with a view to removing the girl to a distance 
 from the two brothers, who made small secret of 
 their admiration for her, or about their jealousy 
 of each other; and he reflected that she could
 
 COBLEONE 83 
 
 be better watched and guarded by his sister, who 
 would have nothing else to do, than by himself. 
 For he was a busy man, and obliged to spend his 
 days either in his office, or in visits to distant 
 clients, so that the motherless girl was thrown 
 far too much upon her own resources. 
 
 Tebaldo, on the other hand, realized that so 
 long as she lived in Randazzo, he should have 
 but a small chance of seeing her alone. He 
 could not come and spend a week at a time in 
 the town, but he could find an excuse for being 
 longer than that in Messina, and he trusted to 
 his ingenuity to elude the vigilance of the aunt 
 with whom she was to live. In. Messina, too, he 
 should not have his brother at his elbow, trying to 
 outdo him at every turn, and evidently attracting 
 the young girl to a certain extent. 
 
 To tell the truth, Aliandra's head was turned 
 by the attentions of the two young noblemen, 
 though her father never lost an opportunity of 
 telling her that they were a pair of penniles's 
 good-for-nothings and otherwise dangerous char- 
 acters, supposed to be on good terms with the 
 brigands of the interior, and typical ' maffeusi ' 
 through and through. But such warnings were 
 much more calculated to excite the girl's interest 
 than to frighten her. She had an artist's nature 
 and instincts, and the two young gentlemen were 
 very romantic characters in her eyes, when they
 
 84 COELEONE 
 
 rode down from their dilapidated stronghold, on 
 their compact little horses, their beautiful Win- 
 chester rifles slung over their shoulders, their 
 velvet coats catching the sunlight, their spurs 
 gleaming, and their broad hats shading their dark 
 eyes. Had there been but one of them, her mind 
 would soon have been made up to make him marry 
 her, and she might have succeeded without much 
 difficulty. But she found it hard to decide be- 
 tween the two. They were too different for com- 
 parison, and yet too much alike for preference. 
 Tebaldo was a born tyrant, and Francesco a born 
 coward. She was dominated by the one and she 
 ruled the other, but she was not in love with 
 either, and she could not make up her mind 
 whether it would on the whole be more agreeable 
 to love her master or her slave. 
 
 Meanwhile she made rapid progress in her 
 singing, appeared at the opera in Palermo, and 
 almost immediately obtained an engagement in 
 Rome. To her father, the sum offered her ap- 
 peared enormous, and her aunt was delighted by 
 the prospect of going to Rome with her during 
 the winter. Aliaudra had been successful from 
 the first, and she seemed to be on the high road 
 to fame. The young idlers of rich Palermo in- 
 trigued to be introduced to her and threw enor- 
 mous nosegays to her at the end of every act. 
 She found that there were scores of men far hand-
 
 COELEONE 85 
 
 somer and richer than the Paglinca brothers, ready 
 to fall in love \vith her, and she began to reflect 
 seriously upon her position. Artist though she 
 was, by one side of her nature, there was in her 
 a touch of her father's sensible legal instinct, 
 together with that extraordinary self-preserving 
 force which usually distinguishes the young girl 
 of southern Italy. 
 
 She soon understood that 110 one of her new 
 admirers would ever think of asking her to be his 
 wife, whereas she was convinced that she could 
 marry either Tebaldo or Francesco, at her choice 
 and pleasure. They were poor, indeed, but of as 
 good nobility as any of the rich young noblemen 
 of Palermo, and she was beginning to find out what 
 fortunes were sometimes made by great singers. 
 She dreamed of buying back the old Corleone 
 estates and of being some day the Princess of 
 Corleone herself. That meant that she must 
 choose Tebaldo, since he was to get the title. 
 And here she hesitated again. She did not real- 
 ize that Francesco was actually a physical coward 
 and rather a contemptible character altogether; 
 to her he merely seemed gentle and winning, and 
 she thought him much ill used by his despotic 
 elder brother. As for the third brother, Ferdi- 
 nando, of whom mention has been made, she had 
 rarely seen him. He was probably the best of 
 the family, which was not saying much, and he
 
 86 CORLEONE 
 
 was also by far the least civilized. He was un- 
 doubtedly in close communication with the brig- 
 ands, and when he was occasionally absent from 
 home, he was not spending his time in Messina 
 or Randazzo. 
 
 Time went on, and in the late autumn Aliandra 
 and her aunt went to Rome for the season. As 
 has been seen, it pleased fortune that the Pagliuca 
 brothers should be there also, with their mother 
 and sister, Ferdinando remaining in Sicily. When 
 the question of selling Camaldoli to San Giacinto 
 arose, Ferdinando at first flatly refused to give 
 his consent. Thereupon Tebaldo wrote him a 
 singularly temperate and logical letter, in which 
 he very quietly proposed to inform the government 
 of Ferdinando's complicity with the brigands, un- 
 less he at once agreed to the sale. Ferdinando 
 might have laughed at the threat had it come from 
 anyone else, but he knew that Tebaldo's thorough 
 acquaintance with the country and with the out- 
 laws' habits would give him a terrible advantage. 
 Tebaldo, if he gave information, could of course 
 never return to Sicily, for his life would not be 
 safe, even in broad daylight, in the Macqueda of 
 Palermo, and it was quite possible that the mafia 
 might reach him even in Rome. But he was un- 
 doubtedly able to help the government in a raid 
 in which many of Ferdinando's friends must 
 perish or be taken prisoners. For their sakes
 
 CORLEONE 87 
 
 Ferdinando signed his consent to the sale, before 
 old Basili in Randazzo, and sent the paper to 
 Rome; but that night he swore that no Roman 
 should ever get possession of Camaldoli while he 
 was alive, and half a dozen of the boldest among 
 the outlaws swore that they would stand by him 
 in his resolution. 
 
 Aliandra knew nothing of all this, for Tebaldo 
 was far too wise to tell anyone how he had forced 
 his brother's consent. She would certainly have 
 been disgusted with him, had she known the truth, 
 for she was morally as far superior to him and to 
 Francesco as an innocent girl brought up by honest 
 folks can be better than a pair of exceedingly cor- 
 rupt young adventurers. But they both had in a 
 high degree the power of keeping up appearances 
 and of imposing upon their surroundings. Tebaldo 
 was indeed subject to rare fits of anger in which 
 he completely lost control of himself, and when he 
 was capable of going to any length of violence ; 
 but these were very unusual, and as a general rule 
 he was reticent in the extreme. Francesco pos- 
 sessed the skill and gentle duplicity of a born 
 coward and a born ladies' man. They both de- 
 ceived Aliandra, in spite of her father's early 
 warning and her old aunt's anxious advice. 
 
 Aliandra was successful beyond anyone's expec- 
 tations during her first engagement in Rome, and 
 she was wise enough to gain herself the reputation
 
 88 CORLEONE 
 
 of being unapproachable to her many admirers. 
 Only Tebaldo and Francesco, whom she now con- 
 sidered as old friends of her family, were ever 
 admitted to her room at the theatre, or received at 
 the quiet apartment where she lived with her aunt. 
 
 On the night of the dinner-party at the Palazzo 
 Saracinesca, Aliandra was to sing in Lucia for the 
 first time in Rome. Both the brothers had wished 
 that they could have been in the theatre to hear 
 her, instead of spending the evening in the society 
 of those very stiff and mighty Romans, and both 
 made up their minds separately that they would 
 see her before she left the Argentina that night. 
 Tebaldo, as usual, took the lead of events, and per- 
 emptorily ordered Francesco to go home with their 
 mother and sister in the carriage. 
 
 When the Corleone party left the palace, there- 
 fore, Francesco got into the carriage, but Tebaldo 
 said that he preferred to walk, and went out alone 
 from under the great gate. He was not yet very 
 familiar with the streets of Rome, but he believed 
 that he knew the exact situation of the palace, and 
 could easily find his way from it to the Argentina 
 theatre, which was not very far distant. 
 
 The old part of the city puzzled him, however. 
 He found himself threading unfamiliar ways, dark 
 lanes, and winding streets which emerged suddenly 
 upon small squares from which three or four other 
 streets led in different directions. Instinctively
 
 COELEONE 89 
 
 he looked behind him from time to time, and felt 
 in his pocket for the pistol which, like a true pro- 
 vincial, he thought it as necessary to carry in 
 Rome as in his Sicilian home. Presently he 
 looked at his watch, saw that it was eleven o'clock, 
 and made up his mind to find a cab if he could. 
 But that was not an easy matter either, in that 
 part of the city, and it was twenty minutes past 
 eleven when he at last drew up to the stage 
 entrance at the back of the Argentina. A weary, 
 grey, unshaven, and very dirty old man admitted 
 him, looked at his face, took the flimsy currency 
 note which Tebaldo held out, and let him pass 
 without a word. The young man knew his way 
 much better within the building than out in the 
 streets. In a few moments he stopped before a 
 dingy little door, the last on the left in a narrow 
 corridor dimly lit by a single flame of gas, which 
 was turned low for economy's sake. He knocked 
 sharply and opened the door without waiting for 
 an answer. 
 
 There were three persons in the small, low dress- 
 ing-room, and all Ihree faced Tebaldo rather anx- 
 iously. Aliandra Basili, the young Sicilian prima 
 donna who had lately made her first appearance in 
 Rome, was seated before a dim mirror which stood 
 on a low table covered with appliances for theat- 
 rical dressing. Her maid was arranging a white 
 veil on her head, and beside her, very near to her,
 
 90 CORLEONE 
 
 and drawing back from her as Tebaldo entered, sat 
 Francesco. 
 
 Tebaldo's lips moved uneasily, as he stood still 
 for a moment, gazing at the little group, his hand 
 on the door. Then he closed it quickly behind 
 him, and came forward with a smile. 
 
 " Good evening," he said. " I lost my way in 
 the streets and am a little late. I thought the 
 curtain would be up for the last act." 
 
 " They have called me once," answered Aliandra. 
 " I said, that I was not ready, for I knew you would 
 come." 
 
 She was really very handsome and very young, 
 but the mask of paint and powder changed her face 
 and expression almost beyond recognition. Even 
 her bright, gold-brown eyes were made to look black 
 and exaggerated by the deep shadows painted with 
 antimony below them, and on the lids. The young 
 hand she held out to Tebaldo was whitened with 
 a chalky mixture to the tips of the fingers. She 
 was dressed in the flowing white robe which Lucia 
 wears in the mad scene, and the flaring gaslights 
 on each side of the mirror made her face and wig 
 look, terribly artificial. Tebaldo thought so as he 
 looked at her, and remembered the calm simplicity 
 of Corona Saracinesca's mature beauty. But he 
 had known Aliandra long, and his imagination saw 
 her own face through her paint. 
 
 "It was good of you to wait for me," he said.
 
 COBLEONE 91 
 
 "I daresay my brother helped the time to pass 
 pleasantly." 
 
 " I have only just come," said Francesco, quickly. 
 " I took our mother home it is far." 
 
 " I did not know that you were coming at 
 all," replied Tebaldo, coldly. " How is it going ? " 
 he asked, sitting down by Aliandra. " Another 
 ovation ? " 
 
 " No. They are waiting for the mad scene, of 
 course and my voice is as heavy as lead to-night. 
 I shall not please anyone and it is the first time 
 I have sung Lucia in Rome. My nerves are in a 
 state " 
 
 " You are not frightened ? You of all people ? " 
 
 " I am half dead with fright. I am white under 
 my rouge. I can feel it." 
 
 " Poor child ! " exclaimed Francesco, softly, and 
 his eyes lightened as he watched her. 
 
 " Bah ! " Tebaldo shrugged his shoulders and 
 smiled. " She always says that ! " 
 
 "And sometimes it is true," answered Aliandra, 
 with a sharp sigh. 
 
 A double rap at the door interrupted the con- 
 versation. 
 
 " Signorina Basili ! Are you ready ? " asked a 
 gruff voice outside. 
 
 " Yes ! " replied the young girl, rising with an 
 effort. 
 
 Francesco seized her left hand and kissed it.
 
 92 CORLEONE 
 
 Tebaldo said nothing, but folded his arms and 
 stood aside. He saw on his brother's dark moiis- 
 tache a few grains of the chalky dust which whit- 
 ened Aliandra's fingers. 
 
 " Do not wait for me when it is over," she said. 
 " My aunt is in the house, and will take me home. 
 Good night." 
 
 " Goodbye," said Tebaldo, looking intently into 
 her face as he opened the door. 
 
 She started in surprise, and perhaps her face 
 would have betrayed her pain, but the terribly 
 artificial rouge and powder hid the change. 
 
 " Come and see me to-morrow," she said to Te- 
 baldo, in a low voice, when she was already in the 
 doorway. 
 
 He did not answer, but kept his eyes steadily on 
 her face. 
 
 " Signorina Basili ! You will miss your cue ! " 
 cried the gruff voice in the corridor. 
 
 Aliandra hesitated an instant, glancing out and 
 then looking again at Tebaldo. 
 
 " To-morrow," she said suddenly, stepping out 
 into the passage. "To-morrow," she repeated, as 
 she went swiftly towards the stage. 
 
 She looked back just before she disappeared, but 
 there was little light, and Tebaldo could no longer 
 see her eyes. 
 
 He stood still by the door. Then his brother 
 passed him.
 
 CORLEONE 93 
 
 " I am going to hear this act," said Francesco, 
 quietly, as though unaware that anything unusual 
 had happened. 
 
 Before he was out of the door, he felt Tebaldo's 
 hand on his shoulder, gripping him hard and shak- 
 ing him a little. He turned his head, and his face 
 was suddenly pale. Tebaldo kept his hand on his 
 brother's shoulder and pushed him back against 
 the wall of the passage, under the solitary gas- 
 light. 
 
 " What do you mean by coming here ? " he asked. 
 " How do you dare ? " 
 
 Francesco was badly frightened, for he knew 
 Tebaldo's ungovernable temper. 
 
 " Why not ? " he tried to ask. " I have often 
 been here " 
 
 " Because I warned you not to come again. Be- 
 cause I am in earnest. Because I will do you some 
 harm, if you thrust yourself into my way with 
 her." 
 
 " I shall call for help now, unless you let me 
 go," answered Francesco, with white lips. Tebaldo 
 laughed savagely. 
 
 " What a coward you are ! " he cried, giving his 
 brother a final shake and then letting him go. 
 " And what a fool I am to care ! " he added, laugh- 
 ing again. 
 
 " Brute ! " exclaimed Francesco, adjusting his 
 collar and smoothing his coat.
 
 94 CORLEONE 
 
 " I warned you," retorted Tebaldo, watching 
 him. "And now I have warned you again," he 
 added. " Tliis is the second time. Are there no 
 women in the world besides Aliandra Basili ? " 
 
 "I knew her first," objected the younger man, 
 beginning to recover some courage. 
 
 " You knew her first ? When she was a mere 
 child in Randazzo, when we went to her father 
 about a lease, we both heard her singing, but 
 what has that to do with it ? That was six years 
 ago, and you have hardly seen her since." 
 
 " How do you know ? " asked Francesco, scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 He had gradually edged past Tebaldo towards 
 the open end of the passage. 
 
 "How do you know that I did not often see 
 her alone before she went to Messina, and since 
 then, too ? " He smiled as he renewed the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "I do not know," said Tebaldo, calmly. "You 
 are a coward. You are also a most accomplished 
 liar. It is impossible to believe a word you say, 
 good or bad. I should not believe you if you were 
 dying, and if you swore upon the holy sacraments 
 that you were telling me the truth." 
 
 "Thank you," answered Francesco, apparently 
 unmoved by the insult. " But you would probably 
 believe Aliandra, would you not ? " 
 
 "Why should I? She is only a woman."
 
 COBLEONE 95 
 
 Tebalclo turned angrily as he spoke, and his 
 eyelids drooped at the corners, like a vulture's. 
 
 " You two are not made to be believed," he said, 
 growing more cold. " I sometimes forget, but you 
 soon remind me of the fact again. You said 
 distinctly this evening that you would go home 
 with our mother " 
 
 " So I did," interrupted Francesco. " I did not 
 promise to stay there 
 
 "I will not argue Avith you 
 
 "No. It would be useless, as you are in the 
 wrong. I am going to hear the act. Good night." 
 
 Francesco walked quickly down the passage. 
 He did not turn to look behind him, but it was 
 not until he was at the back of the stage, groping 
 his way amidst lumber and dust towards the other 
 side, that he felt safe from any further violence. 
 
 Tebaldo had no intention of following. He 
 stood quite still under the gaslight for a few 
 seconds, and then opened the door of the dressing- 
 room again. He knew that the maid was there 
 alone. 
 
 "How long was my brother here before I 
 came ? " he asked sharply. 
 
 The woman was setting things in order, packing 
 the tinsel-trimmed gown which the singer had worn 
 in the previous scene. She looked up nervously, 
 for she was afraid of Tebaldo. 
 
 '' A moment, only a moment," she answered,
 
 96 
 
 CORLEONE 
 
 not pausing in her work, and speaking in a scared 
 tone. 
 
 Tebaldo looked at her, and saw that she was 
 frightened. He was not in the humour to believe 
 anyone just then, and after a moment's silence, 
 he turned on his heel and went out.
 
 " WHAT strange people there are in the world," 
 said Corona Saracinesca to her husband, on the 
 morning after the dinner at which the Corleone 
 family had been present. 
 
 Giovanni was reading a newspaper, leaning back 
 in his own especial chair in his wife r s morning 
 room. It was raining, and she was looking out 
 of the window. There are not many half-uncon- 
 scious actions which betray so much of the general 
 character and momentary temper, as an idle pause 
 before closed window panes, and a careless glance 
 down into the street or up at the sky. The fact 
 has not been noticed, but deserves to be. Many a 
 man or woman, at an anxious crisis, turns to the 
 window, with the sensation of being alone for a 
 moment, away from the complications created by 
 the other person o"r persons in the room, free, for 
 an instant, to let the features relax, the eye darken, 
 or the lips smile, as the case may be off the stage, 
 indeed, as a comedian in the side scenes. Or again, 
 when there is no anxiety, one goes from one's work, 
 to take a look at the outside world, not caring to 
 see it, but glad to be away from the task -and to 
 
 VOL. I. H 97
 
 98 CORLEONE 
 
 give the mind a breathing space. And then, also, 
 the expression of the features changes, and if one 
 stops to think of it, one is aware that the face is 
 momentarily rested. Another, who has forgotten 
 trouble and pain for a while, in conversation or in 
 pleasant reading, goes to the window. And the 
 grief, or the pain, or the fear, comes back with a 
 rush and clouds the eyes and bends the brow, till 
 he who suffers turns with something like fear from 
 the contemplation of the outer world and takes 
 up his book, or his talk, or his work, or anything 
 which can help him to forget. With almost all 
 people, there is a sudden change of sensation in 
 first looking out of the window. One drums im- 
 patiently on the panes, another bites his lip, a 
 third grows very still and grave, and one, per- 
 haps, smiles suddenly, and then glances back to 
 the room, fearing lest his inward lightness of 
 heart may have betrayed itself. 
 
 Corona had nothing to conceal from Giovanni 
 nor from herself. She had realized the rarest and 
 highest form of lasting human happiness, which is 
 to live imparted from the single being loved, with 
 no screen of secret to cast a shadow on either side. 
 Such a life can have but few emotions, yet the pos- 
 sibility of the very deepest emotion is always pres- 
 ent in it, as the ocean is not rigid when it is quiet, 
 as the strong man asleep is not past waking, nor 
 the singer mute when silent.
 
 COBLEONE 99 
 
 Corona had been moving quietly about the room, 
 giving life to it by her touch, where mechanical 
 hands had done their daily work of dull neatness. 
 She loosened the flowers in a vase, moved the 
 books on the table, pulled the long lace curtains 
 a little out from under the heavy ones, turned a 
 chair here and a knickknack there, set the little 
 calendar on the writing-table, and moved the cur- 
 tains again. Then at last she paused before the 
 window. Her lids drooped thoughtfully and her 
 mouth relaxed, as she made the remark which 
 caused Giovanni to look up from his paper. 
 
 " What strange people there are in the world ! " 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 " It is fortunate that they are not all like us," 
 answered Giovanni. 
 
 Why ? " 
 
 " The world would stop, I fancy. People would 
 all be happy, as we are, and would shut themselves 
 up, and there would be universal peace, the millen- 
 nium, and a general cessation of business. Then 
 would come the end of all things. Of whom are 
 you thinking ? " 
 
 " Of those people who came to dinner last night, 
 and of our boys." 
 
 "Of Orsino, I suppose. Yes I know " He 
 paused. 
 
 " Yes," said Corona, thoughtfully. 
 
 Both were silent, for a moment. They thought
 
 100 COE LEONE 
 
 together, having long been unaccustomed to think 
 apart. At last Giovanni laughed quietly. 
 
 "Our children cannot be exactly like us," ho 
 said. "They must live their own lives, as we live 
 ours. One cannot make lives for other people, you 
 know." 
 
 "Orsino is so apathetic," said Corona. "He 
 opens his eyes for a moment and looks at things 
 as though he were going to be interested. Then 
 he closes them again, and does not care what 
 happens. He has no enthusiasm like Ippolito. 
 Nothing interests him, nothing amuses him. He 
 is not happy, and he is not unhappy. You could 
 not surprise him. I sometimes think that you 
 could not hurt him, either. He is young, yet he 
 acts like a man who has seen everything, done 
 everything, heard everything, and tasted every- 
 thing. He does not even fall in love." 
 
 Corona smiled as she spoke the last words, but 
 her eyes were thoughtful. In her heart, no thor- 
 oughly feminine woman can xmderstand that a 
 young man may not be in love for a long time, 
 and may yet be normally sensible. 
 
 "I was older than he when you and I met," 
 observed Giovanni. 
 
 "Yes but you were different. Orsino is not 
 at all like you." 
 
 "Nor Ippolito either." 
 
 "There is more of you in him than you think,
 
 COELEONE 101 
 
 Giovanni, though he is so gentle and quiet, and 
 fond of music." 
 
 " The artistic temperament, my dear, very little 
 like me." 
 
 ''There is a curious tenacity under all that." 
 
 "No one has ever thwarted him," objected 
 Giovanni. "Or, rather, he has never thwarted 
 anybody. That is a better way of putting it." 
 
 "I believe he has more strength of character 
 than the other three together. Of course, you will 
 say that he is my favourite." 
 
 "No, dear. You are very just. But you are 
 more drawn to him." 
 
 "Yes strangely more and for 'something in 
 him which no one sees. It is his likeness to you, 
 I think." 
 
 " Together with a certain feminility." 
 
 Giovanni did not speak contemptuously, but he 
 had always resented Ippolito's gentle grace a little. 
 He himself and his other three sons had the 
 strongly masculine temperament of the Saracinesca 
 family. He often thought that Ippolito should 
 have been a girl? 
 
 "Do not say that, Giovanni," answered his wife. 
 " He is not rugged, but he is strong-hearted. The 
 artistic temperament has a certain feminine quality 
 on the surface, by which it feels ; but the crude 
 creative force by which it acts is purely masculine." 
 
 " That sounds clever," laughed Giovanni.
 
 102 CORLEONE 
 
 " AVell, there is dear old Gausche, whom we have 
 known all our lives. He is an instance. You used 
 to think he had a certain feminility, too." 
 
 "So he had." 
 
 " But he fought like a man at Mentana ; and he 
 thinks like a man, and he certainly paints like a 
 man." 
 
 " Yes ; that is true. Only we never had any 
 artists in the family. It seems odd that our son 
 should have such tendencies. None of the family 
 were ever particularly clever in any way." 
 
 " You are not stupid, at all events." 
 
 Corona smiled at her husband. For all the 
 world, she would not have had him at all different 
 from his present self. 
 
 "Besides," she added, "you need not think of 
 him as an artist. You can look upon him as a 
 priest." 
 
 " Yes, I know," answered Giovanni, without 
 much enthusiasm. "We never were a priest- 
 breeding family either. We have done better at 
 farming than at praying or playing the piano. 
 Ippolito does not know a plough from a harrow, 
 nor a thoroughbred colt from a cart-horse. For 
 my part I do not see the strength you find in him, 
 though I daresay you are right, my dear. You 
 generally are. At all events, he helps the har- 
 mony of the family, for he worships Orsino, and 
 the two younger ones always pair together."
 
 COELEONE 103 
 
 "I suppose he will never be put into any posi- 
 tion which can show his real character," said 
 Corona, " but I know I am right." 
 
 They were silent for a few minutes. Presently 
 Giovanni took up his paper again, and Corona sat 
 down at her table to write a note. The rain pat- 
 tered against the window, cheerfully, as it does 
 outside a room in which two happy people are 
 together. 
 
 "That d'Oriani girl is charming," said Corona, 
 after writing a line or two, but not looking round. 
 
 " Perhaps Orsino will fall in love with her," 
 observed her husband, his eyes on the newspaper. 
 
 " I hope not ! " exclaimed Corona, turning in her 
 chair, and speaking with far more energy than she 
 had yet shown. "It is bad blood, Giovanni as 
 bad as any blood in Italy, and though the girl is 
 charming, those brothers well, you saw them." 
 
 " Bad faces, both of them. And rather doubtful 
 manners." 
 
 " Never mind their manners ! But their faces ! 
 They are nephews of poor Bianca Corleone's hus- 
 band, are they not ? " 
 
 " Yes. They are his brother's children. And 
 they are their grandfather's grandchildren." 
 
 "What did he do?" 
 
 "He was chiefly concerned in the betrayal of 
 Gaeta and took money for the deed, too. They 
 have always been traitors. There was a Pagliuca
 
 104 COR LEONE 
 
 who received all sorts of offices and honours from 
 Joaquin Murat and then advised King Ferdinand 
 to have him shot when he was caught at Pizzo in 
 Calabria. There was a Pagliuca who betrayed his 
 brother to save his own life in the last century. 
 It is a promising stock." 
 
 "What an inheritance! I have often heard of 
 them, but I have never met any of them except- 
 ing Bianca's husband, whom we all hated for her 
 sake." 
 
 "He was not the worst of them, by any means. 
 But I never blamed her much, poor child and 
 Pietro Ghisleri knew how to turn any woman's 
 head in those days." 
 
 "Why did we ask those people to dinner, after 
 all ? " enquired Corona, thoughtfully. 
 
 "Because San Giacinto wished it, I suppose. 
 We shall probably know why in two or three 
 years. He never does anything without a reason." 
 
 "And he keeps his reasons to himself." 
 
 "It is a strange thing," said Giovanni. "That 
 man is the most reticent human being I ever knew, 
 and one of the deepest. Yet we are all sure that 
 he is absolutely honest and honourable. We know 
 that lie is always scheming, and yet we feel that 
 he is never plotting. There is a difference." 
 
 "Of course there is the difference between 
 strategy and treachery. But I am sorry that his 
 plans should have involved bringing the Corleone
 
 COELEONE 105 
 
 family into cmr house. They are not nice people, 
 excepting the girl." 
 
 "My father remarked that the elder of those 
 brothers was like an old engraving he has of 
 Caesar Borgia." 
 
 " That is a promising resemblance ! Fortunately, 
 the times, at least, are changed." 
 
 " In Sicily, everything is possible." 
 
 The remark was characteristic of Giovanni, of 
 a Roman, and of modern times. But there was, 
 and is, some truth in it. Many things are possible 
 to-day in Sicily which have not been possible any- 
 where else in Europe for at least two centuries, 
 and the few foreigners who know the island well 
 can tell tales of Sicilians which the world at large 
 would hardly accept even as fiction.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 DURING the ensuing weeks Orsino saw Vittoria 
 d'Oriani repeatedly, at first by accident, and after- 
 wards because he was attracted by her, and took 
 pains to learn where she and her mother were 
 going, in order to meet her. 
 
 It was spring. Easter had come very early, and 
 as happens in such cases, there was a revival of 
 gaiety after Lent. There were garden parties, a 
 recent importation in Rome, there were great pic- 
 nics to the hills, and there were races out at the 
 Capaunelle ; moreover, there were dances at which 
 the windows were kept open all night, until the 
 daylight began to steal in and tell tales of un- 
 pleasant truth, so that even fair women drew lace 
 things over their tired faces as they hurried into 
 their carriages in the cold dawn, glad to remember 
 that they had still looked passably well in the 
 candle-light. 
 
 At one of these balls, late in the season, Orsino 
 knew that he should meet Vittoria. It was in a 
 vast old palace, from the back of which two grace- 
 ful bridges crossed the street below to a garden 
 beyond, where there were fountains, and palms, 
 106
 
 CORLEONE 107 
 
 and statues, and walks hedged with box in. the old 
 Italian mariner. There were no very magnificent 
 preparations for the dance, which was rather a 
 small and intimate affair, but there was the mag- 
 nificent luxury of well-proportioned space, which 
 belonged to an older age, there was the gentle light 
 of several hundred wax candles instead of the cold 
 glare of electricity or the pestilent flame of gas, 
 and all night long there was April moonlight out- 
 side, in the old garden, whence the smell of the 
 box, and the myrtle, and of violets, was borne in 
 fitfully through the open windows with each breath 
 of moving air. 
 
 There was also, that night, a general feeling of 
 being at home and in a measure free from the 
 oppression of social tyranny, and from the disturb- 
 ing presence of the rich social recruit, who was 
 sown in wealth, so 'to say, in the middle of the 
 century, and who is now plentifully reaped in vul- 
 garity. 
 
 " It is more like the old times than anything 
 I remember for years," said Corona to Gianforte 
 Campodonico, as they walked slowly through the 
 rooms together. 
 
 " It must be the wax candles and the smell of the 
 flowers from the garden," he answered, not exactly 
 comprehending, for he was not a sensitive man, and 
 was, moreover, considerably younger than Corona. 
 
 But Corona was silent, and wished that she were
 
 108 CORLEONE 
 
 walking with her husband, or sitting alone with 
 him in some quiet corner, for something in the air 
 reminded her of a ball in the Frangipani palace, 
 many years ago, when Giovanni had spoken to her 
 in a conservatory, ftnd many things had happened 
 in consequence. The wax candles and the smell 
 of open-air flowers, and the glimpses of moonlight 
 through vast windows may have had something to 
 do with it; but surely there are times and hours, 
 when love is in the air, when every sound is tuneful, 
 and all silence is softly alive, when young voices 
 seek each the other's tone caressingly, and the steal- 
 ing hand steals nearer to the hand that waits. 
 
 There was no one to prevent Orsino Saracinesca 
 from persuading Vittoria to go and sit down in one 
 of the less frequented rooms, if he could do so. 
 Her mother would be delighted, her brothers were 
 not at the ball, and Orsino was responsible to no 
 one for his actions. She had learned many things 
 since she had come to Rome, but she did not 
 understand more than half of them, and what she 
 understood least of all was the absolute power 
 which Orsino exerted over her when he was 
 present. He haunted her thoughts at other times, 
 too, and she had acquired a sort of conviction that 
 she could not escape from him, which was greatly 
 strengthened by the fact that she did not wish to 
 be free. 
 
 On his part, his mind was less easy, for he was
 
 COIiLEONE 109 
 
 well aware that he was making love to the girl 
 with her mother's consent, whereas he was not by 
 any means inclined to think that he wished to 
 marry her. Such a position might not seem 
 strange to a youth of Anglo-Saxon traditions; for 
 there is a sort of tacit understanding among the 
 English-speaking races to the effect that young 
 people are never to count on each other till each 
 has got the other up the steps of the altar, that 
 there is nothing disgraceful in breaking an engage- 
 ment, and that love-making at large, without any 
 intention of marriage, is a harmless pastime 
 especially designed for the very young. The 
 Italian view is very different, however, and Orsino 
 was well aware that unless he meant to make Vit- 
 toria d'Oriani his wife, he was doing wrong in his 
 own eyes, and in the eyes of the world, in doing 
 his best to be often with her. 
 
 One result of his conduct was that he frightened 
 away other men. They took it for granted that 
 he wished to marry her, dowerless as she was, and 
 they kept out of his way. The girl was not neg- 
 lected, however. San Giacinto had his own rea- 
 sons for wishing to be on good terms with her 
 brothers, and he made his wife introduce partners 
 to Vittoria at dances, and send men to talk to her 
 at parties. But as soon as Orsino came upon the 
 scene, Vittoria's companion disappeared, whoever 
 he happened to be at the time.
 
 110 CORLEONE 
 
 The Italian, even when very young, has a good 
 deal of social philosophy Avhen he is not under the 
 influence of an emotion from which he cannot 
 escape. He will avoid falling in love with the 
 wrong person, if he can. 
 
 " For what ? " he asks. " In order to be un- 
 happy ? Why?" 
 
 And he systematically keeps out of the way of 
 temptation, well knowing his own weakness in 
 love matters. 
 
 But Orsino was attracted by the girl and yielded 
 to the attraction, though his manner of yielding 
 was a domination over her whenever they met. 
 His only actual experience of real love had been 
 in his affair with the Countess del Ferice, before 
 her second marriage. She was a mature woman 
 of strong character and devoted nature, who had 
 resisted him and had sacrificed herself for him, 
 not to him. He had been accustomed to find that 
 resistance in her. But Vittoria offered none at all, 
 a fact which gave his rather despotic nature a 
 sudden development, while the absence of oppo- 
 sition made him look upon his disinclination to 
 decide the question of marriage as something he 
 ought to have been ashamed of. At the same time, 
 there was the fact that he had grown somewhat 
 cynical and cold of late years, and if not positively 
 selfish, at least negatively careless of others, when 
 anything pleased him, which was not often. It
 
 CORLEONE 111 
 
 is bad to have strength and not to use it, to possess 
 power and not to exert it, to know that one is a 
 personage without caring much what sort of person 
 one may be. That had been Orsino's position for 
 years, and it had not improved his character. 
 
 On this particular evening he was conscious of 
 something much more like emotion than he had 
 felt for a long time. San Giacinto had lain in 
 wait for him near the door, and had told him that 
 matters were settled at last and that they were to 
 leave Rome within the week to take possession of 
 the Corleone lands. The deeds had been signed 
 and the money had been paid. There were no 
 further formalities, and it was time to go to work. 
 Orsino nodded, said he was ready, and went off to 
 find Vittoria in the ballroom. But there was a 
 little more colour than usual under his dark skin, 
 and his eyes were restless and hungry. 
 
 He was passing his mother without seeing her, 
 when she touched him on the sleeve, and dropped 
 Campodonico's arm. He started a little impa- 
 tiently, and then stood still, waiting for her to 
 speak. 
 
 " Has anything* happened ? " she asked rather 
 anxiously. 
 
 "No, mother, nothing that is He hesi- 
 tated, glancing at Campodonico. " I am going to 
 Sicily with San Giacinto," he added in a low voice. 
 
 Corona could not have explained what she felt
 
 112 COHLEONE 
 
 just then, but she might have described it as a 
 disagreeable chilliness creeping over her strong 
 frame from head to foot. An hour later she re- 
 membered it, and the next day, and for many days 
 afterwards, and she tried to account for it by tell- 
 ing herself that the journey was to make a great 
 change in her son's life, or by arguing that she had 
 half unconsciously supposed him about to engage 
 himself to Vittoria. But neither explanation was 
 at all satisfactory. She was not imaginative to 
 that extent, as she well knew, and she at last made 
 up her mind that it was an idle coincidence of the 
 kind which some people call a warning, and re- 
 member afterwards when anything especial hap- 
 pens, though if nothing particular follows, they 
 forget it altogether. 
 
 " Why are you going ? Has it anything to do 
 with the Corleone ? " she asked, and she was sur- 
 prised at the unsteadiness of her own voice. 
 
 " Yes. I will tell you some other time." 
 
 Will you ? " 
 
 " Yes, certainly." 
 
 She looked into his eyes a moment, and then 
 took Campodonico's arm again. Orsino moved on 
 quickly and disappeared in the ballroom they had 
 left, wondering inwardly at his mother's manner 
 as much as she was then wondering herself, and 
 attributing it to her anxiety about his position with, 
 regard to Vittoria. Thinking of that, he stopped
 
 COR LEONE 113 
 
 short in his walk just as he caught sight of the 
 young girl in the distance, standing beside her 
 mother. A man was before her, evidently just 
 asking her to dance. Orsino watched them while 
 he tried to get hold of himself and decide what he 
 ought to do. 
 
 Vittoria came forward and swept out with her 
 partner into the middle of the room. Orsino slipped 
 back a little behind a group of people, so that she 
 should not easily see him, but he watched her face 
 keenly. Her eyes were restless, and she was evi- 
 dently looking for him, and not thinking of her 
 partner at all. As they came round to his side, 
 Orsino felt the blood rise in his throat, and felt that 
 his face was warm ; and then, as they swung off to 
 the other side of the big ballroom, he grew cool 
 again, and asked himself what he should do, re- 
 peating the question rather helplessly. She came 
 round once more, and just as he felt the same 
 heat of the blood again, he saw that her eyes had 
 caught his. In a flash her expression changed, 
 and the colour blushed in her face. A moment 
 later she stopped, and remained standing with her 
 partner so that Orsino could see the back of her 
 head. She half turned towards him two or three 
 times, instinctively ; but she would not turn quite 
 round so as to look at him. She knew that she 
 must finish the dance before he could come to her. 
 
 But he, deeply stirred, and, at the same time, 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 COR LEONE 
 
 profoundly discontented with himself, suddenly 
 left the room and went on till he stood all alone, 
 out on one of the bridges which crossed the street 
 to the garden at the back of the palace. The 
 bridge was in the shadow, but the white moonlight 
 fell full upon the fountain and the walks beyond; 
 and moonlight has an extraordinary effect on people 
 who do not habitually live in camps, or out of doors, 
 at night. The sun shows us what is, but the moon 
 makes us see what might be. 
 
 Orsino leaned against the stone parapet in the 
 shadow, and made one of those attempts at self- 
 examination which every honourable man has made 
 at least once in his life, and which, with nine men 
 out of ten, lead to no result, because at such times 
 the mind is hi no state to examine anything, least 
 of all itself. Indeed, no healthy-minded man re- 
 sorts to that sort of introspection unless he is in 
 a most complicated situation, since such a man is 
 normally always perfectly conscious of what is 
 honourable and right, without any self-analysis, 
 or picking to pieces of his own conscience. 
 
 But Orsino Saracinesca was in great difficulty. 
 He did not question the fact that he was very 
 much in love with Vittoria, and that this love 
 for a young girl was something which he had 
 never felt before. That was plain enough, by 
 this time. The real question was, whether he 
 should marry her, or whether he should go away
 
 COELEONE 115 
 
 to Sicily with San Giacinto and try to avoid her 
 in future until he should have more or less for- 
 gotten her. 
 
 He was old enough and sensible enough to fore- 
 see the probable consequences of marrying into 
 such a family, and they were such as to check 
 him at the outset. He knew all about the Pa- 
 gliuca people, as his father did, and the phrase 
 'the worst blood in Italy' was familiar to his 
 thoughts. Vittoria's mother was, indeed, a harm- 
 less soul, provincial and of unusual manners, but 
 not vulgar in the ordinary sense of the word. 
 Vittoria's father was said to have been a very 
 good kind of man, who had been outrageously 
 treated by his elder brother. But the strain was 
 bad. There were hideous stories of treachery, 
 such as Giovanni had quoted to his wife, which 
 were alone enough to make Orsino hesitate. And 
 then, there were Vittoria's brothers, for whom he 
 felt the strongest repulsion and distrust. In many 
 ways it Avould have been wiser for him to marry 
 a girl of the people, a child of Trastevere, rather 
 than Vittoria d'Oriaui. 
 
 He did not believe that any of the taint was 
 on herself, that in her character there was the 
 smallest shade of deceit or unfaithfulness. He 
 found it hard to believe that she was really a 
 Corleone at all. His arguments began from a 
 premiss which assumed her practically perfect.
 
 116 COELEONE 
 
 Had he been alone in the world, he would not 
 have hesitated long, for he could have married 
 her and taken her away for ever he Avas enough 
 in love for that. 
 
 But such a marriage meant that he should bring 
 her brothers intimately into his father's house ; 
 that he and his own family must accept Tebaldo 
 and Francesco Pagliuca, and possibly the third 
 brother, whom he did not know, as near relations, 
 to be called, by himself at least, ' thee ' and ' thou,' 
 and by their baptismal names. Lastly, it meant 
 that Vittoria's mother and his own should come 
 into close terms of intimacy, for Maria Carolina 
 would make the most of the connexion with the 
 Saracinesca. That thought was the most repug- 
 nant of all to the young man, who looked upon 
 his mother as a being apart from the ordinary 
 world and entitled to a sort of veneration. Maria 
 Carolina would not venerate anybody, he thought. 
 
 On the other side, there was his honour. He 
 did not care what the young men might think, 
 but he had certainly led the girl herself to believe 
 that he meant to marry her. And he was in love. 
 Compared with giving up Vittoria, and with doing 
 something which seemed dishonourable, the ac- 
 cunmlated wickedness of generations of the Cor- 
 leone shrank into insignificance. There was a sort 
 of shock in his mind, as he brought up this side 
 of the question.
 
 CORLEONE 117 
 
 Had there been any difficulty to be overcome in 
 winning Vittoria's own consent, it would have been 
 easier to decide. But he knew that he had but a 
 word to say, and his future would be sealed irre- 
 vocably in a promise which he never would break. 
 And in a day or two he was to leave Rome for a 
 long time. It was clear that he ought to decide 
 at once, this very night. 
 
 His nature rejected the idea of taking advice, 
 and, generally, of confiding in anyone. Otherwise, 
 he might have laid the matter before his mother, 
 in the certainty that her counsel would be good 
 and honourable. Or he might have told his favour- 
 ite brother the whole story, and Ippolito would 
 assuredly have told him what was right. But Or- 
 sino was not of those who get help from the judg- 
 ment or the conscience of another. 
 
 It seemed to him that he stayed a long time on 
 the bridge, thinking of all these things, for the 
 necessity of finally weighing them had come upon 
 him suddenly, since San Giacinto had given him 
 warning to get ready for the journey. But pres- 
 ently he was aware that the distant music had 
 changed, that the waltz during which he had 
 watched Vittoria was over, and that a square 
 dance had begun. He smiled rather grimly to him- 
 self as he reflected that he might stand there till 
 morning, without getting any nearer to a conclu- 
 sion. He turned his back on the moonlight impa-
 
 118 COH LEONE 
 
 tiently and. went back into the palace. In the 
 distance, through an open door, he saw faces 
 familiar to him all his life, moving to and fro 
 rapidly in a quadrille. He watched them as he 
 walked straight on towards the ballroom, through 
 the rather dimly lighted chamber with which the 
 bridge communicated. 
 
 He was startled by the sound of Yittoria d'Ori- 
 ani's voice, close beside him, calling him softly but 
 rather anxiously. 
 
 "Don Orsino! Don Orsino!" 
 
 She was all alone, pale, and standing half hidden 
 by the heavy curtain on one side of the door open- 
 ing to the ballroom. Orsino stood still a moment, 
 in great surprise at seeing her thus left to her- 
 self in an empty room. Then he went close to 
 her, holding out his hand. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " he asked in a low voice, 
 for several men were standing about on the other 
 side of the open door, watching the dance. 
 
 "Nothing nothing," she repeated nervously, 
 as he drew her aside. 
 
 " Who left you here alone ? " asked Orsino, in 
 displeasure at some unknown person. 
 
 "I I came here " she faltered. " I slipped 
 out it was hot, in there." 
 
 Orsino laughed softly. 
 
 "You must not get isolated in this way," he 
 said. "It is not done here, you know. People
 
 CORLEONE 119 
 
 would think it strange. You are always supposed 
 to be with someone your partner, or your mother. 
 But I am glad, since I have found you." 
 
 " Yes, I have found you," she said softly, repeat- 
 ing his words. " I mean " she corrected herself 
 hurriedly "I mean you have found me." 
 
 Orsino looked down to her averted face, and in 
 the dim light he saw the blush at her mistake 
 too great a mistake in speech not to have come 
 from a strong impulse within. Yet he could hardly 
 believe that she had seen him go out that way 
 alone, and had followed in the hope of finding him. 
 
 They sat down together, not far from the door 
 opening upon the bridge. The colour had faded 
 again from Vittoria's face, and she was pale. Dur- 
 ing some moments neither spoke, and the music of 
 the quadrille irritated Orsino as he listened to it. 
 Seeing that he was silent, Vittoria looked up side- 
 ways and met his eyes. 
 
 " It was really very warm in the ballroom," she 
 said, to say something. 
 
 " Yes," he answered absently, his eyes fixed on 
 hers. "Yes I daresay it was." 
 
 Again there was a pause. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " asked Vittoria at last, 
 and her tone sank with each word. 
 
 "I am going away," said Orsino, slowly, with 
 fixed eyes. 
 
 She did not start nor show any surprise, but the
 
 120 COBLEOXE 
 
 colour began to leave her lips. The irritating qua- 
 drille went pounding on in the distance, through the 
 hackneyed turns of the familiar figures, accompa- 
 nied by the sound of many voices talking and of 
 broken laughter now and then. 
 
 " You knew it ? " asked Orsino. " How? " 
 
 "Xo one told me; but I knew it I guessed it" 
 
 Orsino looked away, aaad then turned -to her 
 again, his glance drawn back to her by something 
 he could not. resist. 
 
 u Vittoria," ne began in a rery low tone. 
 
 He had never called her by that name before. 
 The quadrille was very noisy, and she did not 
 understand. She leaned forward anxiously towards 
 :..:_. '..-:.-':.-- ': 
 
 "What did you say? I did not hear. The 
 music makes such a noise!" 
 
 The man was more than ever irritated at the 
 sound; and as she bent over to him, he could 
 almost feel her breath on his cheek. The blood 
 lose in him, and be sprang to his feet impatiently. 
 
 "Come ! " he said. "Come outside! We cannot 
 even bear each other here." 
 
 Yittoria rose, too, without a word, and went with 
 him, walking close beside him, and glancing at his 
 face. She was excessively pale now; and all the 
 gplden light seemed to have faded at once, even 
 from her hair and eyes, till she looked delicate and 
 almost fragile beside the big dark man.
 
 CQRLEQXE 
 "Out of dons? 1 " she asked timidl, at the 
 
 - Yes it is veiy warm," answered. Grsino, in a 
 Tciee tkat was a little boarse. 
 
 : - :. ::..- :; _- . :' - -:. ~ ~: :1- 
 
 . "-. --;-- - 1- -- _- ' .. ' ---"-: . . 
 : . ". '..-:- ..:. . .'. . - - . ... : :/ ::.. _:.:..: :: 
 attogediec. 
 
 Yitt<Mia cootd not have spoken just; then, Cor she 
 was franUmg from head to Coot. The air was fall 
 :-,_ - - ;.:___ :: ----- : _ 
 
 : : , --:!.'::.' '. .-:.-- \ : - 
 moonlight. When she looked up, she could see 
 Ocsmo's eyes, bright m the shadow. She turned 
 away, and came back to diem move than once; 
 them their glances did not part any more, and his 
 face came nearer to hers. 
 
 -We love each other," he said; and his voice 
 was warm and alive again, 
 
 She felt that she saw his soul in his face,, bnt 
 she ooold not speak. Her eyes looking up to his, 
 ^_- -' '; - ;_ : '.:::'. .. '. -.. ' \ ..-.': 
 lips parted like an opening flower, and Jainttf 
 smiled at the AEcciucAs of an unspoken word. 
 
 He bent nearer still, and she did not draw back. 
 His blood was hot and fpmghig in his ears. Then, 
 all at outre, something in her appealed to him, her 
 young delicacy., her dawn-like purity, her exquisite 
 fresh maidenhood. It seamed a. crime to touch her
 
 122 COR LEONE 
 
 lips as though she had been a mature woman. 
 He dropped her hand, and his long arms brought 
 her tenderly and softly up to his breast; and as 
 her head fell back, and her lids drooped, he kissed 
 her eyes with infinite gentleness, first the one and 
 then the othei-, again and again, till she smiled in 
 the dark, and hid her face against his coat, and 
 he found only her silky hair to kiss again. 
 
 "I love you say it, too/ 1 he whispered in her 
 ear. 
 
 " Ah, yes ! so much, so dearly ! " came her low 
 answer. 
 
 Then he took her hand again, and brought it up 
 to his lips close to her face ; and his lips pressed 
 the small fingers passionately, almost roughly, very 
 longingly. 
 
 "Come," he said. "We must be alone come 
 into the garden." 
 
 He led her across the bridge, and suddenly they 
 were in the clear moonlight; but he went on 
 quickly, lest they should be noticed through the 
 open door from within. The air was warm and 
 still and dry, as it often is in spring after the 
 evening chill has passed. 
 
 "We could not go back into the ballroom, 
 could we ? " he asked, as he drew her away along 
 a gravel walk between high box hedges. 
 
 " No. How could we now ? " Her hand tight- 
 ened a little on his arm.
 
 CORLEONE 123 
 
 They stopped before a statue at the end of the 
 walk, full in the light, a statue that had perhaps 
 been a Daphne, injured ages ago, and stone-grey 
 where it was not very white, with flying draperies 
 broken off short in the folds, and a small, fright- 
 ened face that seemed between laughing and cry- 
 ing. One fingerless hand pointed at the moon. 
 
 Orsino leaned back against the pedestal, and 
 lovingly held Vittoria before him, and looked at 
 her, and she smiled, her lips parting again, and 
 just glistening darkly in the light as a dewy rose 
 does in moonlight. The music was very far away 
 now, but the plashing of the fountain was near. 
 
 " I love you ! " said Orsino once more, as though 
 no other words would do. 
 
 A deep sigh of happiness said more than the 
 words could, and the stillness that followed meant 
 most of all, while Vittoria gently took his two 
 hands and nestled closer to him, fearlessly, like 
 a child or a young animal. 
 
 " But you will not go away now ? " she asked 
 pleadingly. 
 
 Orsino's face changed a little, as he remembered 
 the rest of his life, and all he had undertaken to do. 
 He had dreamily hoped that he might forget it. 
 
 " We will not talk of that," he answered. 
 
 " How can I help it, if it is true ? You will not 
 go say you will not go ! " 
 
 "I have promised. But there is time or, at
 
 124 CORLEONE 
 
 least, I shall soon come back. It is not so far 
 to Sicily " 
 
 "Sicily? You are going to Sicily?" She 
 seemed surprised. 
 
 "I thought you knew where I was going " 
 he began. 
 
 " No I guessed ; I was not sure. Tell me ! 
 Why must you go ? " 
 
 "I must go because I have promised. San 
 Giacinto would think it very strange if I changed 
 my mind." 
 
 "It is stranger that you should go and with 
 him ! Yes I see you are going to take pos- 
 session of our old place 
 
 Her voice suddenly expressed the utmost anxi- 
 ety, as she sprang from one conclusion to another 
 without a mistake. She pressed his hands tightly, 
 and her face grew pale again with fear for him. 
 
 " Oil please, please, stay here ! " she cried. " If 
 it were anywhere else if it were to do anything 
 else " 
 
 " Why ? " he asked, in surprise. " I thought 
 you did not care much for the old place. If I 
 had known that it would hurt you " 
 
 "Me? No! It is not that it is for you! 
 They will kill you. Oh, do not go ! Do not go ! " 
 She spoke in the greatest distress. 
 
 Orsino was suddenly inclined to laugh, but he 
 saw how much in earnest she was.
 
 COELEONE 125 
 
 ''Who will kill me?" he asked, as though 
 humouring her. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 Vittoria was more than in earnest; she was 
 almost in terror for him. Her small hands clung 
 to his arm nervously, catching him and then loos- 
 ing their hold. But she said nothing, though she 
 seemed to be hesitating in some sort of struggle. 
 Though she loved him with all' the whole-hearted 
 impulses of her nature, it was not easy to tell 
 him what she meant. The Sicilian blood revolted 
 at the thought of betraying her wild brother, who 
 had joined the outlaws, and would be in waiting 
 for Orsino and his cousin when they should try 
 to take possession of the lands. 
 
 " You must not go ! " she cried, suddenly throw- 
 ing her arms round his neck as though she could 
 keep him by force. " You shall not go oh, no, 
 no, no ! " 
 
 "Vittoria you have got some mad idea in 
 your head it is absurd who should try to kill 
 me ? Why ? I have no enemies. As for the 
 brigands, everyone laughs at that sort of thing 
 nowadays. They belong to the comic opera ! " 
 He let himself laugh a little at last, for the idea 
 really amused him. 
 
 But Vittoria straightened herself beside him and 
 grew calmer, for she was sensible and saw that he 
 thought her foolishly afraid. 
 
 " In Rome the outlaAvs belong to the comic opera
 
 126 CORLEONE 
 
 yes," she answered gravely. " But in Sicily 
 they are a reality. I am a Sicilian, and I know. 
 People are killed by them almost every day, and 
 the malia protects them. They are better armed 
 than the soldiers, for they carry Winchester 
 rifles " 
 
 " What do you know about Winchester rifles ? " 
 asked Orsino, smiling. 
 
 "My brothers have them," she said quietly. 
 " And the outlaws almost all have them." 
 
 " I daresay. But why should they wish to kill 
 me ? They do not know me." 
 
 Vittoria was silent a moment, making up her 
 mind what she should tell him. She was not posi- 
 tively sure of anything, but she had heard Fran- 
 cesco say lately that Camaldoli was a place easier 
 to buy than to hold while Ferdinando was alive, 
 and she knew what that meant, when coupled with 
 the occasional comments upon Ferdinando's mode 
 of life, which escaped in Francesco's incautious 
 conversation at home. To a Sicilian, the meaning 
 of the whole situation was not hard to guess. At 
 the same time Vittoria was both desperately anx- 
 ious for Orsino and afraid that he might laugh at 
 her fears, as he had done already. 
 
 " This is it," she said at last in a low and earnest 
 voice. " It has nothing to do with you or your 
 cousin, personally, nor with your taking possession 
 of Camaldoli, so far as I am concerned. But it
 
 COELEONE 127 
 
 is a wild and desolate place, and all through this 
 year a large band of outlaws have been in the 
 forests ou the other side of the valley. They 
 would never have hurt iny_brothers, who are Sicil- 
 ians and poor, and who did not trouble them 
 either. But you and your cousin are great people, 
 and rich, and not Sicilians, and the mafia Avill 
 be against you, and will support the brigands if 
 they prevent you from taking possession of Ca- 
 maldoli. You would be opposed to the mafia ; you 
 would bring soldiers there to fight the outlaws. 
 Therefore they will kill you. It is certain. No 
 one ever escapes them. Do you understand ? 
 Now you will not go, of course, since I have ex- 
 plained it all." 
 
 Orsino was somewhat puzzled, though it all 
 seemed so clear to her. 
 
 "This mafia what is it?" he asked. " We 
 hear it spoken of, but we do not any of us really 
 know who is the head of it, nor what it can do." 
 
 " It has no head," answered the young girl. 
 " Perhaps it is hard to explain, because you are 
 not a Sicilian. The mafia is not a band, nor any- 
 thing of that sort. It is the resistance which the 
 whole Sicilian people opposes to all kinds of gov- 
 ernment and authority. It is, how shall I say ? 
 A sentiment, a feeling, a sort of wild love of 
 our country, that is a secret, and will do any- 
 thing. With us, everybody knows what it is, and
 
 128 CORLEONE 
 
 evil comes to everyone who opposes it generally 
 death." 
 
 " We are not much afraid of it, since we have the 
 law on our side," said Orsino, rather incredulously. 
 
 " You are not afraid because you do not under- 
 stand," answered Vittoria, her voice beginning to 
 express her anxiety again. " If you knew what it 
 is, as we know, you would be very much afraid." 
 
 She spoke so simply and naturally that it did 
 not occur to Orsino to be offended at the slight 
 upon his courage. 
 
 "We shall take an escort of soldiers, to please 
 you," he said, smiling, and drawing her to him 
 again, as though the discussion were over. 
 
 But her terror for him broke out again. She 
 had not told him all she knew, still less all she 
 suspected. 
 
 " But I am in earnest ! " she cried, holding her- 
 self back from him so that he could see her eyes. 
 " It is true earnest, deadly earnest. They mean to 
 kill you in the end, they will ! Oh, tell me that 
 you will not go ! " 
 
 "San Giacinto has bought the place 
 
 "Let him go, and be killed, then, and perhaps 
 they will be satisfied! What do I care for any- 
 one but you ? Is it nothing, that I love you so ? 
 That we have told each other ? That you say you 
 love me? Is it all nothing but words, mere words, 
 empty words ? "
 
 COBLEONE 129 
 
 "No, it is my whole life, dear " 
 
 "Then your life is mine, and you have no right 
 to throw it away, just to please your cousin. Let 
 him. get a regiment of soldiers sent there by the 
 government to live in Santa Vittoria. Then after 
 three or four years the brigands will be all gone." 
 
 " Three or four years ! " Orsino laughed, in spite 
 of himself. 
 
 "Ah, you do not know!" exclaimed Vittoria, 
 sadly. " You do not know our country, nor our 
 people ! You think it is like Rome, all shop- 
 keepers and policemen, and sixty noble families, 
 with no mafia ! You laugh now but when they 
 have killed you I shall not live to laugh again. 
 Am I your life ? Then you are mine. What will 
 there be without you, when they have killed you ? 
 And the Winchester rifles shoot so far, and the 
 outlaws aim so straight ! How can you be saved ? 
 Do you think it is nothing that I should know 
 that you are going to your death ? " 
 
 " It is an exaggeration," said Orsino, trying to 
 soothe her. " Such things are not done in a civ- 
 ilized country, in the nineteenth century." 
 
 " Sucli things ? Ah, and worse, far worse ! 
 Last year they buried a man up to his neck in 
 the earth, alive, and left him there to die, in the 
 woods not far from Camaldoli, because they thought 
 he was a spy ! And one betrayed some of the band 
 last summer, and they did not kill him at once, but 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 CORLEONE 
 
 caught him and tortured him, so that it took him 
 three days to die. You do not know. You laugh, 
 but you do not know what people there are in 
 Sicily, nor what Sicilians will do when they are 
 roused. Promise me that you will not go ! " 
 
 "Even if all you tell me were true, I should 
 go," answered Orsino. 
 
 " Will nothing keep you from going ? " asked 
 the girl, piteously. 
 
 " You will laugh at all this when I come back 
 to you. You will wonder how you could have 
 tried to frighten me with such tales." 
 
 She looked at him a long time in silence, and 
 then her lip quivered, so that she quickly raised 
 one hand to her mouth to hide it. 
 
 " It would have been better if I had never left 
 the convent," she said in a broken voice. " When 
 they have killed you, I shall go back and die 
 there." 
 
 " When I come back, we shall be married, love " 
 
 " Oh, no not if you go to Camaldoli we shall 
 never be married in this world." 
 
 The slight and graceful girl shook all over for 
 a moment, and then seemed to grow smaller, as 
 though something crushed her. But there were no 
 tears in her eyes, though she pressed her fingers 
 on her lips as though to force back a sob. 
 
 " Let us go back," she said. " I want to go 
 home I can pray for you, if I cannot save you.
 
 CORLEONE 131 
 
 God will hear me, though you do not, and God 
 knows that it will be your death." 
 
 He put his arm about her and tried to comfort 
 her, but she would not again lift her face, and he 
 kissed her hair once more, when they were again 
 in the shadow on the bridge. Then they waited 
 till no one was passing through the small room, 
 and went in silently to find her mother. She 
 stopped him at the door of the ballroom. 
 
 " Promise me that you will not speak to my 
 mother, nor my brothers, about about us," she 
 said in a low. voice. 
 
 " Very well. Not till I come back, if you wish 
 it," he answered. 
 
 And they went in, amongst the people, un- 
 noticed.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 VITTORIA realized that it was beyond her power 
 to keep Orsino in Rome, and she was in great 
 trouble. She had begged him not to speak of 
 their betrothal, scarcely knowing why she made 
 the request, but she was afterwards very glad that 
 she had done so. To her, he was a condemned 
 man, and her betrothal was a solemn binding of 
 herself to keep faith with a beloved being who 
 must soon be dead. She did not believe that 
 she could really outlive him, but if Heaven should 
 be so unkind to her, she had already made up her 
 mind to return to the convent where she had been 
 educated, and to end her days as a nun. The 
 acute melancholy which belongs to the people of 
 the far south, as well as of the far north, of Nor- 
 way and of Sicily or Egypt alike, at once as- 
 serted itself and took possession of her. The 
 next time Orsino saw her he was amazed at the 
 change. The colour was all gone from her face, 
 her lips were tightly set, and her brown eyes fol- 
 lowed him with a perpetual, mute anxiety. Her 
 radiance was veiled, and her beauty was griev- 
 ously diminished. 
 
 132
 
 COELEONE 133 
 
 It was at a garden party, in a great, old villa 
 beyond the walls, two days after the dance. 
 Orsino had not been able to see her in the 
 meantime, and had wisely abstained from visit- 
 ing her mother, lest, in any way, he should betray 
 their joint secret. She was already in the garden 
 when he arrived with Corona, who caught sight of 
 Vittoria from a distance and noted the change in 
 her face. 
 
 "Vittoria d'Oriani looks ill," said the Princess, 
 and she went towards her at once. 
 
 She was too tactful to ask the girl what was the 
 matter, but she saw how Vittoria' s eyes could not 
 keep from Orsino, and she half guessed the truth, 
 though her son's face was impenetrable just then. 
 An old friend came up and spoke to her, and she 
 left the two alone. 
 
 They quietly moved away from the more crowded 
 part of the garden, walking silently side by side, 
 till they came to a long walk covered by the inter- 
 lacing branches of ilex trees. Another couple was 
 walking at some distance before them. Orsino 
 glanced down at Vittoria, and tried to say some- 
 thing, but it was not easy. He had not realized 
 how the mere sight of her stirred him, until he 
 found himself speechless when he wished to say 
 many things. 
 
 "You are suffering," he said softly, at last. 
 "What is it?"
 
 134 COE LEONE 
 
 11 You know, " she answered. " What is the use 
 of talking about it? I have said all but tell me 
 only when you are going." 
 
 "To-morrow morning. I shall be back in a fort- 
 night." 
 
 "You will never come back," said Vittoria, in a 
 dull and hopeless tone. 
 
 She spoke with such conviction that Orsino was 
 silent for a moment. He had not the smallest 
 belief in any danger, but he did not know how 
 to argue with her. 
 
 "I have thought it all over," she went on. "If 
 you try to live there, you will certainly be killed. 
 But if you only go once, there is a chance a 
 poor, miserable, little chance. Let them think 
 that you are coming up from Piedimonte, by way 
 of Randazzo. It is above Randazzo that the 
 black lands begin, all lava and ashes, with deep 
 furrows in which a man can lie hidden to shoot. 
 That is where they will try to kill you. Go the 
 other way, round by Catania; it is longer, but 
 they will not expect you, and you can get a 
 guide. They may not find out that you have 
 changed your plan. If they should know it, they 
 could kill you even more easily on that side, in 
 the narrow valley; but they need not know 
 it." 
 
 "Nothing will happen to me on either side," 
 said Orsino, carelessly.
 
 CORLEONE 135 
 
 Vittoria bent her head and walked on in silence 
 beside him. 
 
 "I did not wish to talk about all that," he con- 
 tinued. " There are much more important things. 
 When I come back .we must be married soon " 
 
 " We shall never be married if you go to Sicily, " 
 answered Vittoria, in the same dull voice. 
 
 It was a fixed idea, and Orsino felt the hopeless- 
 ness of trying to influence her, together with a 
 pardonable impatience. The couple ahead of them 
 reached the end of the walk, turned, met them, 
 and passed them with a greeting, for they were 
 acquaintances. Where the little avenue ended 
 there was a great fountain of travertine stone, 
 behind which, in the wide arch of the opening 
 trees, they could see the Campagna and the 
 Sabine mountains to the eastward. 
 
 Vittoria stopped when they reached the other 
 side of the basin, which was moss-grown, but full 
 of clear water that trickled down an almost 
 shapeless stone triton. The statue and the foun- 
 tain hid them from anyone who might be com- 
 ing up the walk, and at their feet lay the broad 
 green Campagna. They were quite alone. 
 
 The young girl raised her eyes, and she looked 
 already as though she had been in an illness. 
 
 "We cannot stay more than a moment," she 
 said. "If people see us going off together, they 
 will guess. I want it to be all my secret. I
 
 136 CORLEONE 
 
 want to say goodbye to you for the last time. 
 I shall remember you always as you are now, 
 Avith the light on your face." 
 
 She looked at him long, and her eyes slowly 
 filled with tears, which did not break nor run 
 over, but little by little subsided again, taking 
 her grief back to her heart. Orsino's brows 
 frowned with pain, for he saw how profoundly 
 she believed that she was never to see him again, 
 and it hurt him that for him she should be so 
 hurt, most of all because he was convinced that 
 there was no cause. 
 
 "We go to-morrow," he said. "We shall be in 
 Messina the next day. On the day after that go 
 and see my mother, and she will tell you that 
 she has had news of our safe arrival. What more 
 can I say? I am sure of it." 
 
 But Vittoria only looked long and earnestly into 
 his face. 
 
 "I want to remember," she said, in a low voice. 
 
 "For a fortnight?" Orsino smiled lovingly, and 
 took her hand. 
 
 "For ever," she answered very gravely, and her 
 fingers clutched his suddenly and hard. 
 
 He still smiled, for he could find nothing to say 
 against such possession of presentiment. Common 
 sense never has anything effectual to oppose to 
 conviction. 
 
 " Goodbye," she said softly. " Goodbye, Orsino."
 
 COR LEONE 137 
 
 She had not called him by his name yet, and it 
 sounded like an enchantment to him, though it 
 was a rough name in itself. The breeze stirred 
 the ilex leaves overhead in the spring afternoon, 
 and the water trickled down, with a pleasant 
 murmur, into the big basin. It was all lovely 
 and peaceful and soft, except the look in her 
 despairing eyes. That disturbed him as he met 
 it and saw no change in it, but always the same 
 hopeless pain. 
 
 "Come," he said quietly, "this is not sensible. 
 Do I look like a man who is going to be killed 
 like a dog in the street, without doing something 
 to help myself? " 
 
 Her eyes filled again. 
 
 "Oh, pray please do not speak like that! 
 Say goodbye to me I cannot bear it any longer 
 and yet it kills me to let you go ! " 
 
 She turned from him and covered her eyes with 
 her hands for a moment, while he put his arm 
 round her reassuringly. Then, all at once, she 
 looked up. 
 
 "I will be brave goodbye!" she said quickly. 
 
 It was a silent leave-taking after that, for he 
 could not say much. His only answer to her 
 must be his safe return, but as they went back 
 along the walk, she felt that she was with him 
 for the last time. It was like going with him to 
 execution.
 
 138 CORLEONE 
 
 Orsino walked back to the city alone, thinking 
 over her words and her face, and wondering 
 whether there could be anything in presenti- 
 ments of evil. He had never had any himself, 
 that he could remember, and he had never seen 
 anybody so thoroughly under the influence of one 
 as Vittoria seemed to be. 
 
 Before dinner he went to see San Giacinto, whom 
 he found alone in his big study, sitting in his 
 huge chair before his enormous table. He was so 
 large that he had his own private furniture made 
 to suit his own dimensions. The table was cov- 
 ered with note books and papers, very neatly 
 arranged, and the grey-haired giant was writing 
 a letter. He looked up as Orsino entered and 
 uttered a sort of inarticulate exclamation of sat- 
 isfaction. Then he went on writing, while Orsino 
 sat down and watched him. 
 
 "Do you happen to have a gun license?" asked 
 San Giacinto, without looking up. 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Put it in your pocket for the journey," was 
 the answer, as the pen went on steadily. 
 
 "Is there any game about Camaldoli?" enquired 
 Orsino, after a pause. 
 
 "Brigands," replied San Giacinto, laconically, 
 and still writing. 
 
 He would have said ' woodcock ' in the same 
 tone, being a plain man and not given to dramatic
 
 CORLEONE 139 
 
 emphasis. Orsino laughed a little incredulously, 
 but said nothing, as he sat waiting for his kins- 
 man to finish his letter. His eyes wandered about 
 the room, and presently they fell on a stout sole- 
 leather bag which stood by a chair near the 
 window. On the chair itself lay two leathern 
 gun-cases obviously containing modern rifles, as 
 their shape and size showed. With a man's natu- 
 ral instinct for arms, Orsino rose and took one of 
 the weapons out of its case, and examined it. 
 
 "Winchesters," said San Giacinto, still driving 
 his pen. 
 
 "I see," answered Orsino, feeling the weight, 
 and raising the rifle to his shoulder as though to 
 try the length of the stock. 
 
 "Most people prefer them in Sicily," observed 
 San Giacinto, who had signed his name and was 
 folding his note carefully. 
 
 "What do you want them for?" asked the 
 younger man, still incredulous. 
 
 " It is the custom of the country to carry them 
 down there," said the other. "Besides, there are 
 brigands about. I told you so, just now." 
 
 San Giacinto did not like to repeat explanations. 
 
 "I thought you were joking," remarked Orsino. 
 
 " I never did that. I suppose we shall not have 
 the luck to fall in with any of those fellows, but 
 there has been a good deal of trouble lately, and 
 we shall not be particularly popular as Romans
 
 140 CORLEONE 
 
 going to take possession of Sicilian lands. We 
 should be worth a ransom too, and by this time 
 the whole country knows that we are coming." 
 
 "Then we may really have some excitement," 
 said Orsino, more surprised than he would show 
 at his cousin's confirmation of much that Vittoria 
 had said. "How about the mafia?" he asked by 
 way of leading San Giacinto into conversation. 
 "How will it look at us?" 
 
 "The mafia is not a man," answered San Gia- 
 cinto, bluntly. "The mafia is the Sicilian char- 
 acter Sicilian honour, Sicilian principles. It is 
 an idea, not an institution. It is what makes it 
 impossible to govern Sicily." 
 
 "Or to live there," suggested Orsino. 
 
 " Except with considerable tact. You will find 
 out something about it very soon, if you try to 
 manage that place. But if you are nervous, you 
 had better not try." 
 
 " I am not nervous, I believe." 
 
 "Xo, it is of no use to be. It is better to be a 
 fatalist. Fatalism gives you your own soul, and 
 leaves your body to the chemistry of the universe, 
 where it belongs. If your body comes into contact 
 with something that does not agree with it, you 
 die. That is all." 
 
 There was an admirable directness in San Gia- 
 cinto's philosophy, as Orsino knew. They made a 
 final agreement about meeting at the station on the
 
 COELEONE 141 
 
 following morning, and Orsino went home a good 
 deal less inclined to treat Vittoria's presentiments 
 lightly. It had been characteristic of San Giacinto 
 that he had hitherto simply forgotten to mention 
 that there might be real danger in the expedition 
 to Camaldoli, and it was equally in accordance with 
 Orsino's character to take the prospect of it simply 
 and gravely. There was a strong resemblance 
 between the two kinsmen, and Orsino understood 
 his cousin better than his father or any of his 
 brothers. 
 
 He had already explained to his mother what he 
 was going to do, and she had been glad to learn 
 that he had found something to interest him. 
 Both Corona and Sant' Ilario had the prevailing 
 impression that the Sicilian difficulties were more 
 or less imaginary. That is what most Romans 
 think, and the conviction is general in the north 
 of Italy. As Orsino said nothing about his con- 
 versation with San Giacinto on that last evening, 
 his father and mother had not the slightest idea 
 that there was danger before him, and as they had 
 both noticed his, liking for Vittoria, they were very 
 glad that he should go away just then, and forget 
 her. 
 
 The old Prince bade him goodbye that night. 
 
 "Whatever you do, my boy," he said, shaking 
 his snowy old head energetically, " do not marry a 
 Sicilian girl."
 
 142 COELEONE 
 
 The piece of advice was so unexpected that 
 Orsino started slightly, and then laughed, as he 
 took his grandfather's hand. It was oddly smooth, 
 as the hands of very old men are, but it was warm 
 still, and not so feeble as might have been expected. 
 
 " And if you should get into trouble down there," 
 said the head of the house, who had known Sicily 
 seventy years earlier, " shoot first. Never wait to 
 be shot at." 
 
 " It is not likely that there will be much shoot- 
 ing nowadays," laughed Sant' Ilario. 
 
 "That does not make my advice bad, does it?" 
 asked old Saracinesca, turning upon his son, for 
 the least approach to contradiction still roused his 
 anger instantly. 
 
 "Oh, no!" answered Giovanni. "It is very 
 good advice." 
 
 "Of course it is," growled the old gentleman, 
 discontentedly. " I never gave anyone bad advice 
 in my life. But you boys are always contradicting 
 me." 
 
 Giovanni smiled rather sadly. It was not in 
 the nature of things that men over ninety years 
 old should live much longer, but he felt what a 
 break in the household's life the old man's death 
 must one day make, when the vast vitality should 
 be at last worn out.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ORSIXO travelled down to Naples with San Gia- 
 cinto in that peculiar state of mind in which an 
 unsentimental but passionate man finds himself 
 when he is leaving the woman he loves in order 
 to go and do something which he knows must be 
 done, which he wishes to do, and which involves 
 danger and difficulty. 
 
 San Giacinto did not say much more about 
 brigands, or the mafia, but he talked freely of the 
 steps to be taken on arriving in Messina, in order 
 to get a proper escort of soldiers from Piedimonte 
 to Camaldoli, and it was perfectly clear that he 
 anticipated trouble. Orsino was surprised to find 
 that he expected to have four or five carabineers 
 permanently quartered at Camaldoli, by way of 
 protection, and that he had already applied in the 
 proper quarter to. have the men sent to meet him. 
 Then he began to talk of the projected railway and 
 of the questions of engineering involved. 
 
 Orsino felt lonely in his society, and it was a 
 
 sensation to which he was not accustomed. It 
 
 was long since he had known what it was to miss 
 
 a woman's eyes and a woman's voice, and he had 
 
 143
 
 144 CORLEONE 
 
 not thought that he should know it again. As the 
 train ran on, hour after hour, he grew more silent, 
 not wondering at himself, but accepting quite 
 simply the fact that it hurt him to leave Vittoria 
 far behind, and that he longed for her presence 
 more and more. He could not help thinking how 
 easy it .would be for him to refuse to go on, and to 
 take the next train back from Naples to Rome, and 
 to see her to-morrow. He would not have done 
 such a thing for the world, but he could not escape 
 from the rather contemptible pleasure of thinking 
 about it. 
 
 Late in the afternoon the steamer that was to 
 take them to Messina got under way, an old-fash- 
 ioned, uncomfortable boat, crowded with people 
 of all kinds, for the vessel was to go on to Malta 
 on the next day. At the bad dinner in the dim 
 cabin the tables were full, and many of the people 
 were talking in the Maltese dialect, which is an 
 astonishing compound of Italian and Arabic, per- 
 fectly incomprehensible both to Arabs and Ital- 
 ians. They stared at San Giacinto because he was 
 a giant, and evidently talked about him in their 
 own language, which irritated Orsino, though the 
 big man seemed perfectly indifferent. Neither 
 cared to speak, and they got through their abomi- 
 nable dinner in silence and went up to smoke on 
 deck. 
 
 Orsino leaned upon the rail and gazed longingly
 
 CORLEONE 145 
 
 at the looming mountains, behind which the full 
 moon was rising. He was not sentimental, for 
 Italian men rarely are, but like all his fellow- 
 countrymen he was alive to the sensuous sugges- 
 tions of nature at certain times, and the shadowy 
 land, the rising moon, the gleaming ripple of the 
 water, and the evening breeze on his face, brought 
 Vittoria more vividly than ever to his mind. He 
 looked up at San Giaciuto, and even the latter's 
 massive and gloomy features seemed to be softened 
 by the gentle light and the enchantment of the 
 southern sea. Unconsciously he was more closely 
 drawn to the man of his own blood, after being 
 jostled in the crowd of doubtful passengers who 
 filled the steamer. 
 
 It was not in his nature to make confidences, 
 but he wished that his friend and kinsman knew 
 that he was in love with Vittoria and meant to 
 marry her. It would have made the journey less 
 desolate and lonely. He was still young, as San 
 Giacinto would have told him, with grim indiffer- 
 ence, if Orsino had unburdened his heart at that 
 moment. But he did not mean to do that. He 
 leaned over the rail and smoked in silence, looking 
 from the moon to the rippling water and back again, 
 and wishing that the night were not before him, but 
 that he were already in Messina with something 
 active to do. To be doing the thing would be to 
 get nearer to Vittoria, since he could return with 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 CORLEONE 
 
 a clear conscience as soon as it should be done. At 
 last he spoke, in a careless tone. 
 
 "My grandfather gave me some advice last 
 night," he said. "Never to marry a Sicilian girl, 
 and always to shoot first if there were any shooting 
 to be done." 
 
 "Provided that you do not marry the Corleone 
 girl, I do not see why you should not take a Sicil- 
 ian wife if you please," answered San Giacinto, 
 calmly. 
 
 "Why should a man not marry Vittoria d'Ori- 
 ani?" enquired Orsino, startled to find himself so 
 suddenly speaking of what filled him. 
 
 " I did not say 'a man ' in general. I meant you. 
 It would be a bad match. It would draw you into 
 relationship with the worst blood in the country, 
 and that is a great objection to it. Then she is a 
 niece, and her brothers are nephews, of that old 
 villain Corleone who married one of the Campodo- 
 nico women. She died of unhappiness, I believe, 
 and I do not wonder. Have you noticed that 
 none of the Campodonico will have anything to do 
 with them? Even old Donna Francesca you 
 know? the saint who lives in the Palazzetto Bor- 
 gia she told your mother that she hoped never 
 to know a Corleone by sight again. They are 
 disliked in Rome. But you would never be such 
 an arrant fool as to go and fall in love with the 
 girl, I suppose, though she is charming, and I can
 
 CORLEONE 147 
 
 see that you admire her. Not very clever, I 
 fancy, brought up by a museum of old Sicilian 
 ladies in a Palermo convent, but very charming." 
 
 It was an unexpectedly long speech, on an unex- 
 pected theme, and it was fortunate that it con- 
 tained nothing which could wound Orsino's feelings 
 through Vittoria; for, in that case, he Avould have 
 quarrelled with his cousin forthwith, not being of 
 a patient disposition. As it was, the young man 
 glanced up sharply from time to time, looking out 
 for some depreciatory expression. He was glad 
 when San Giacinto had finished speaking. 
 
 "If I wished to marry her," said Orsino, "I 
 should not care who her relations might be." 
 
 "You would find yourself caring a great deal 
 afterwards, if they made trouble with your own 
 people. But I admit that the girl has charm and 
 some beauty, and it is only fools who need clever 
 wives to think for them. Good night. We may 
 have a long day to-morrow, and we shall land about 
 seven in the morning. I am going to bed." 
 
 Orsino watched the huge figure as it bent low 
 and disappeared ^down the companion, and he was 
 glad that San Giacinto had taken himself off with- 
 out talking any more about Vittoria. He stayed on 
 deck another hour, watching the light on the water, 
 and then went below. He and his cousin had a 
 cabin together, and he found the old giant asleep 
 on the sofa, wrapped in a cloak, with his long legs
 
 148 CORLEONE 
 
 resting on a portmanteau and extending half across 
 the available space, while he had widened the tran- 
 som for his vast shoulders by the help of a camp 
 stool. He slept soundly, almost solemnly, under 
 the small swinging oil-lamp, and there was some- 
 thing grand and soldier-like about his perfect 
 indifference to discomfort. In a corner of the 
 cabin, among a quantity of traps, the two rifles 
 stood upright in their leathern cases. It was long 
 before Orsino fell asleep. 
 
 He was glad when they got ashore at last in 
 the early morning. Messina has the reputation of 
 being the dirtiest city in all Italy, and it has the 
 disagreeable peculiarity of not possessing a decent 
 inn of any sort. San Giacinto and Orsino sat down 
 in a shabby and dirty room to drink certain vile 
 coffee which was brought up to them on little 
 brass trays from a cafe at the corner of the 
 street. San Giacinto produced a silver flask and 
 poured a dose of spirits into his cup, and offered 
 Orsino some; but the younger man had not been 
 bred in the country and had never acquired the 
 common Italian habit of strengthening bad coffee 
 with alcohol. So he consoled his taste with ciga- 
 rettes. 
 
 San Giacinto found that it would be impossible 
 to proceed to Camaldoli till the following day, 
 and the two men spent the morning and most of 
 the afternoon in making the necessary arrange-
 
 COELEONE 149 
 
 merits. It was indispensable to see the officer in 
 command of the carabineers and the prefect of 
 the province, and San Giacinto knew that it 
 would be wiser to send certain supplies up from 
 Messina. 
 
 "I suppose that someone is there to hand the 
 place over ? " said Orsino. 
 
 "Tebaldo Pagliuca said that we should make 
 enquiries of an old notary called Basili, in Ran- 
 dazzo, as his brother, being displeased with the 
 sale, would probably refuse to meet us. Basili is 
 to have the keys and will send a man with us. 
 We shall have to rough it for a day or two." 
 
 "Do you mean to say that they have locked 
 the place up and left it without even a servant 
 in charge?" asked Orsino. 
 
 "Apparently. We shall know when we get 
 there. I daresay that we may have to make 
 our own coffee and cook our own food. It is 
 rather a lonely neighbourhood, and the people 
 whom Ferdinando Pagliuca employed have prob- 
 ably all left." 
 
 "It sounds a. little vague," observed Orsino. 
 "I suppose we shall find horses to take us up?" 
 
 "That is all arranged. We shall go up in a 
 carriage, with four or five mounted carabineers, who 
 will stay with us till they are relieved by others. 
 They will all be waiting at the town of Piedi- 
 monte, above the station. I daresay that ruffian
 
 150 COELEONE 
 
 has carried off the furniture, too, and we may 
 have to sleep on the floor in our cloaks." 
 
 "It would have been sensible to have brought 
 a servant with us." 
 
 "No. Servants get into the way when there 
 is trouble." 
 
 Orsino lighted another cigarette and said noth- 
 ing. He was beginning to think that the whole 
 thing sounded like an expedition into an enemy's 
 country. They were dining in a queer little res- 
 taurant built over the water, at the end of the 
 town towards the Faro. It was evidently the 
 fashionable resort at that time of year, and 
 Orsino studied the faces of the guests at the 
 other tables. He thought that many of them 
 were like Tebaldo Pagliuca, though Avith less 
 malignity in their faces; but now and then he 
 heard words spoken with the unmistakable Neapol- 
 itan accent, showing that all Avere not Sicilians. 
 
 "They killed a carabineer close to Camaldoli 
 last week," said San Giacinto, thoughtfully divid- 
 ing a large slice of sword-fish, which is the local 
 delicacy. " One of them put on the dead soldier's 
 uniform, passed himself off for a carabineer, and 
 arrested the bailiff of the Duca di Fornasco that 
 night, and marched him out of the village. They 
 carried him off to the woods, and he has not been 
 heard of since. He had given some information 
 against them in the winter, so they will probably
 
 COBLEONE 151 
 
 take some pains to kill him slowly, and send his 
 head back to his relations in a basket of tomatoes 
 in a day or two." 
 
 "Are those things positively true?" asked 
 Orsiuo, incredulous even now. 
 
 "The story was in the paper this morning, 
 and I asked the prefect. He said it was quite 
 exact. You see the rifles may be useful, after 
 all, and the carabineers are rather more indis- 
 pensable than food and drink." 
 
 Again Orsino though of all Vittoria had told 
 him, and he realized that whether the wild tales 
 were literally true or not, she was not the only 
 person who believed them. Just then a long 
 fishing-boat ran past the little pier, close to the 
 place where he was sitting at table. Six men 
 were sending her along with her sharp stern 
 foremost, as they generally do, standing to their 
 long oars and throwing their whole strength into 
 the work, for they were late, and the current 
 would turn against them when the moon rose, 
 as everyone knows who lives in Messina. Or- 
 sino did not remember that he had ever seen just 
 such types of men, bare-headed, dark as Arabs, 
 square-jawed, sinewy, fierce-eyed, with grave, thin 
 lips, every one of them a fighting match for three 
 or four Neapolitans. They were probably the 
 first genuine Sicilians of the people whom he 
 had ever seen, and they were not like any other
 
 152 COELEONE 
 
 Italians. San Giacinto watched them too, and 
 he smiled a little, as though the sight gave him 
 satisfaction. 
 
 " That is the reason why there is no salt-tax in 
 Sicily," he said. "That is also the reason why 
 Italy is ruled by a single Sicilian, by Crispi. 
 Good or bad, he is a man, at all events and 
 those fellows are men. I would rather have one 
 of those fishermen at my elbow in danger, than 
 twenty bragging Piedmontese, or a hundred civil- 
 ized Tuscans." 
 
 "But they are treacherous," observed Orsino. 
 
 "No, they are not," answered the older man, 
 thoughtfully. "They hate authority and rebel 
 against it, and the mafia idea keeps them together 
 like one man. Successful revolution is always 
 called patriotism, and unsuccessful rebellion is 
 always branded as treachery or treason. I have 
 heard that somewhere, and it is true. But what 
 we want in Italy is men, not ideas; action, not 
 talk; honesty, not policy." 
 
 " We shall never get those things, " said Orsino, 
 who was naturally pessimistic. "Italian unity 
 has come too late for a renascence, and too soon 
 for a new birth." 
 
 San Giacinto smiled rather contemptuously. 
 
 "You are an aristocrat, my dear boy," he 
 answered. "You want the clear wine without 
 the filthy, fermenting must."
 
 COELEONE 153 
 
 "I think we have the same name, you and I," 
 observed Orsino. 
 
 " Yes, but I should be what I am, if I had been 
 called Moscetti." 
 
 "And I?" enquired Orsino, his eyes kindling 
 a little at the implied contrast of powers. 
 
 "If you had been plain Signer Moscetti, you 
 would have been a very different kind of man. 
 You would have worked hard at architecture, I 
 suppose, and you would have acquired an indi- 
 viduality. As it is, you have not much more 
 than the individuality of your class, and very 
 little of your own. You are a product, whereas 
 I was forced to become a producer when I was 
 very young a worker, in other words. Socially, 
 I am a Saracinesca, like you; morally and act- 
 ually, I have been a man of the people all my 
 life, because I began among the people. I have 
 made myself what I am. You were made what 
 you are by somebody who lived in the twelfth 
 century. I do not blame you, and I do not boast 
 about myself. We like each other, but we are 
 fundamentally different, and we emphatically do 
 not like the same things. We are different kinds 
 of animals that happen to be called by the same 
 name." 
 
 " I tried to work once," said Orsino, thoughtfully. 
 
 " A man cannot do that sort of work against the 
 odds of sixty-four quarterings and an unlimited
 
 154 COBLEONE 
 
 foivtune. But you -had the instinct, just as I have 
 it. You and I have more in common with those 
 fishermen who just went by, than we have with 
 most of our friends . in Rome. We are men, at 
 all events, as I said of Crispi." 
 
 Orsino was silent, for he was not in the humour 
 to argue about anything, and he saw the truth of 
 much that his cousin had said, and felt a hopeless- 
 ness about doing anything in the world with which 
 he had long been familiar. 
 
 The sun had gone down, leaving a deep glow on 
 the Calabrian mountains, on the other side of the 
 straits, and the water rippled with the current 
 like purple silk. To the left, the heights above 
 Scilla were soft and dreamy in a wine-coloured 
 haze, and the great lighthouse shot out its white 
 ray through the gathering dusk. To the right, 
 the royal yards and top-gallant rigging of the 
 vessels in the harbour made a dark lace against 
 the high, white houses that caught the departing 
 twilight. It was near moonrise, and the breeze 
 had almost died away. The lights of the city 
 began to shine out, one by one, then quickly, by 
 scores, and under the little jetty, where the two 
 men sat, the swirling water was all at once black 
 and gleaming as flowing ink. Far off, a boat was 
 moving, and the oars swung against the single 
 tholes with an even, monotonous knocking that 
 was pleasant to hear.
 
 CORLEONE 155 
 
 Orsino poured out another glass of the strong 
 black wine and drank it, for the air was growing 
 chilly. San Giacinto did the same and lighted a 
 cigar. They sat almost an hour in silence, and 
 then went slowly back to their squalid hotel on 
 the quay.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Ox the following day Orsino and San Giacinto 
 descended from the train at the little station of 
 Piedimonte d'Etna, 'the foot of Mount Etna/ as 
 it would be translated. It is a small, well-kept 
 station near the sea, surrounded by gardens of 
 oranges and lemons, and orchards of fruit trees, and 
 gay with vines and flowers, penetrated by the in- 
 tense southern light. The sky was perfectly cloud- 
 less, the sea of a gem-like blue, the peach blossoms 
 were out by thousands, and the red pomegranate 
 flowers had lately burst out of the bud, in splendid 
 contrast with the deep, sheeny green of the smooth 
 orange leaves. The trees had an air of belonging 
 to pleasure gardens rather than to business-like 
 orchards, and the whole coloiiring was almost arti- 
 ficially magnificent. It was late spring in the far 
 south, and Orsino had never seen it. He had been 
 on the Riviera, and in Sorrento, when the orange 
 blossoms were all out, scenting the sea more than a 
 mile from laud, and he had seen the spring in Eng- 
 land, which, once in every four or five years, is worth 
 seeing; but he had not dreamt of such dazzling 
 glories of colour as filled the earth and sky and sea 
 156
 
 COBLEONE 157 
 
 of Sicily. It was not tropical, for there was noth- 
 ing uncultivated nor unfruitful in sight ; it seemed 
 as though the little belt of gardens he saw around 
 him must be the richest in the whole world, and 
 as though neither man nor beast nor flower nor 
 fruit could die in the fluid life of the fragrant air. 
 It was very unexpected. San Giacinto was not 
 the kind of man to give enthusiastic descriptions 
 of views, and the conversation on the previous 
 evening had prepared Orsino's mind for the wild 
 hill country above, but not for the belt of glory 
 which Sicily wears like a jewelled baldric round 
 her breast, hidden here and there as it were, or 
 obliterated, by great crags running far out into the 
 sea, but coining into sight again instantly as each 
 point is passed. 
 
 In the heap of traps and belongings that lay 
 at his feet on the little platform, the two repeat- 
 ing rifles in their leathern cases were very good 
 reminders of what the two men had before them 
 on that day and for days and weeks afterwards. 
 
 "Winchesters," observed the porter who took 
 the things to the carriage behind the station. 
 
 " How did you know that ? " asked Orsino, sur- 
 prised at the man's remark. 
 
 " As if they were the first I have carried ! " 
 exclaimed the man, with a grin. " Almost all the 
 signori have them nowadays. People say they 
 will kill at half a kilometre."
 
 158 COELEONE 
 
 "Put them inside," said San Giacinto, as they 
 were arranging the things. " Put them on the back 
 seat with that case." 
 
 " Yes, the cartridges," said the porter, knowingly, 
 as he felt the weight of the package. 
 
 " And God send you no need of them ! " ex- 
 claimed the coachman, a big dark man with a 
 stubbly chin, a broad hat, and a shabby velvet 
 jacket. 
 
 " Amen ! " ejaculated the porter. 
 
 " Are you going with us all the way ? " asked 
 San Giacinto of the coachman, looking at him 
 keenly. 
 
 "No, signore. The master will drive you up 
 from Piedimonte. He is known up there, but I 
 am of Messina. It is always better to be known 
 or else it is much worse. But the master is a much 
 respected man." 
 
 "Since he has come back," put in the por- 
 ter, his shaven mouth stretching itself in a grim 
 smile. 
 
 " Has he been in America ? " asked Orsino, idly, 
 knowing how many of the people made the journey 
 to work, earn money, and return within a few 
 years. 
 
 " He has been to the other America, which they 
 call Ponza," answered the man. 
 
 The coachman scowled at him, and poked him 
 in the back with the stock of his whip, but San
 
 COELEONE 159 
 
 Giacinto laughed. Ponza is a small island off the 
 Roman, coast, used as a penitentiary and penal 
 settlement. 
 
 " Did he kill his man ? " enquired San Giacinto, 
 coolly. 
 
 "No, signore," said the coachman, quickly. "He 
 only gave him a salutation with the knife. It was 
 a bad knife," he added, anxious for his employer's 
 reputation. " But for that the master is a good 
 man ! He only got the knife a little way into the 
 other's throat so much " he marked the second 
 joint of his middle finger with the end of his 
 whip " and then it would not cut," he concluded, 
 with an apologetic air. 
 
 " The Romans always stab upwards under the 
 ribs," said San Giacinto. 
 
 " One knows that ! " answered the man. " So do 
 we, of course. But it was only a pocket knife and 
 would not have gone through the clothes, and the 
 man was fat. That is why the master put it into 
 his throat." 
 
 Orsino laughed, and San Giacinto smiled. Then 
 they got into fche carriage and settled themselves 
 for the long drive. In twenty minutes they had 
 left behind them the beautiful garden down by the 
 sea, and the lumbering vehicle drawn by three 
 skinny horses was crawling up a steep but well- 
 built road, on which the yellow dust lay two inches 
 thick. The coachman cracked his long whip of
 
 160 CORLEONE 
 
 twisted cord with a noise like a quick succession 
 of pistol shots, the lean animals kicked themselves 
 uphill, as it were, the bells jingling spasmodically 
 at each effort, and the dust rose in thick puffs in 
 the windless air, under the blazing sun, uniting in 
 a long low cloud over the road behind. 
 
 San Giacinto smoked in silence, and Orsino kept 
 his mouth shut and his eyes half closed against 
 the suffocating dust. After the first half-mile, the 
 horses settled down to a straining walk, and the 
 coachman stopped cracking his whip, sinking into 
 himself, round-shouldered, as southern coachmen 
 do when it is hot and a hill is steep. From time 
 to time he swore at the skinny beasts in a sort of 
 patient, half-contemptuous way. 
 
 " May they slay you ! " he said. " May your 
 vitals be torn out! May you be blinded! Curse 
 you ! Curse your fathers and mothers, and who- 
 ever made you ! Curse the souls of your dead, 
 your double-dead and your extra-dead, and the 
 souls of all the horses that are yet to be born ! " 
 
 There was a long pause between each impreca- 
 tion, not as though the man were thinking over the 
 next, but as if to give the poor beasts time to 
 understand what he said. It was a kind of litany 
 of southern abuse, but uttered in a perfunctory 
 and indifferent manner, as many litanies are. 
 
 "Do you think your horses are Christians, that 
 you revile them in that way ? " asked Orsino,
 
 COELEONE 161 
 
 speaking from the back of the carriage, without 
 moving. 
 
 The mail's head turned upon his slouching shoul- 
 ders, and he eyed Orsino with curiosity. 
 
 "We speak to them in this manner," he said. 
 " They understand. In your country, how do you 
 speak to them ? " 
 
 "We feed them better, and they go faster." 
 
 "Every country has its customs," returned the 
 man, stolidly. "It is true that these beasts are 
 not mine. I should feed them better, if I had the 
 money. But these animals consist of a little straw 
 and water. This they eat, and this they are. How 
 can they draw a heavy carriage uphill ? It is a 
 miracle. The Madonna attends to it. If I beat 
 them, what do I beat ? Bones and air. Why 
 should I fatigue myself ? There are their souls, so 
 I speak to them, and they understand. Do you 
 see ? Now that I talk with you, they stop." 
 
 He turned as the carriage stood still, and ad- 
 dressed the spider-like animals again, in a dull, 
 monotonous tone, that had something business-like 
 in it. 
 
 " Ugly beasts ! May you have apoplexy ! May 
 you be eaten alive ! " And he went on with a whole 
 string of similar expressions, till the unhappy 
 brutes strained and threw themselves forward and 
 began to kick themselves uphill again spasmodi- 
 cally, as before.
 
 162 COR LEONE 
 
 It seemed very long before they reached the 
 town, dusty and white under the broad clear sun, 
 and decidedly clean; spotless, indeed, compared 
 with a Neapolitan or Calabrian village. Here and 
 there among the whitewashed houses there were 
 others built of almost black tufo, and some with 
 old bits of effective carving in a bastard style of 
 Xorman-Saraceii ornament. 
 
 The equine spiders entered the town at a jog- 
 trot. Orsino fancied that but for the noise of the 
 bells and the wheels he could have heard their 
 bones rattle as their skeleton legs swung under 
 them. They turned two or three corners and 
 stopped suddenly before their stable. 
 
 "This is the master," said the coachman as he 
 got down, indicating a square-built, bony man of 
 medium height who stood before the door, dressed 
 in a clean white shirt and a decent brown velveteen 
 jacket. He had a dark red carnation in his button- 
 hole and wore his soft black hat a little on one 
 side. 
 
 In the shadow of the street near the door stood 
 five carabineers in their oddly old-fashioned yet 
 oddly imposing uniforms and cocked hats, each 
 with a big army revolver and a cartridge case at 
 his belt, and a heavy cavalry sabre by his side. 
 They were tall, quiet-eyed, sober-looking men, and 
 they saluted San Giacinto and Orsino gravely, 
 while one, who was the sergeant, came forward,
 
 COB LEONE 163 
 
 holding out a note, which San Giacinto read, and 
 put into his pocket. 
 
 " I am San Giacinto," he said, " and this gentle- 
 man is my cousin, Don Orsino Saracinesca, who 
 goes with us." 
 
 " Shall we saddle at once, Signer Marchese ? " 
 asked the sergeant, and as San Giacinto assented, 
 he turned to his men and gave the necessary order 
 in a low voice. 
 
 The phantom horses were taken out of the car- 
 riage, and the two gentlemen got out to stretch 
 their legs while the others were put in. The cara- 
 bineers had all disappeared, their quarters and 
 stables being close by; so near, indeed, that the 
 clattering of their big chargers' hoofs and the 
 clanking of accoutrements could be plainly heard. 
 
 "The master is to drive us up to Camaldoli," 
 observed Orsino, lighting a cigarette. 
 
 " Yes," replied his companion. " He is a smart- 
 looking fellow, but for my part I prefer the other 
 man's face. Stupidity is always a necessary qual- 
 ity in servants. The master looks to me like a 
 type of a ' maffeuso.' " 
 
 " With five carabineers at our heels, I imagine 
 that we are pretty safe." 
 
 "For to-day, of course. I was thinking of our 
 future relations. This is the only man who can 
 furnish carriages between Camaldoli and the sta- 
 tion. One is in his power."
 
 164 CORLEONE 
 
 "Why should we not have carriages and horses 
 of our o\vn '.' '' asked Orsino. 
 
 " It is a useless expense at present," answered 
 San Giacinto, who never wasted money, though he 
 never spared it. " We shall see. In a day or two 
 we shall find out whether you can have them at all. 
 If it turns out to be possible, it will be because you 
 find yourself on good terms with the people of 
 the neighbourhood." 
 
 'And turn 'maffeuso' myself," suggested Orsino, 
 with a laugh. 
 
 "Not exactly, but the people may tolerate you. 
 That is the most you can expect, and it is much." 
 
 " And if not, I am never to move without a squad 
 of carabineers to take care of me, I suppose." 
 
 "You had better go armed, at all events," said 
 San Giacinto, quietly. " Have your revolver always 
 in your pocket and take a rifle when you go out of 
 the house. The sight of firearms has a salutary 
 effect npon all these people." 
 
 The fresh horses had been put in, very different 
 from the Avretched creatures that had dragged the 
 carriage up from the station, for they were lean 
 indeed, but young and active. San Giacinto looked 
 at them and remarked upon the fact as he got in. 
 
 " Of course ! " answered the philosophical coach- 
 man; "the road is long and you must drive up as 
 high as paradise. Those old pianos could never 
 get any higher than purgatory."
 
 COBLEONE 165 
 
 " Pianos ? " 
 
 " Eli they have but three legs each, arid they 
 are of wood, like a piano," answered the man, with- 
 out a smile. " You also heard the music they made 
 with their bones, as we came along." 
 
 The master mounted to his seat, and at the same 
 moment the carabineers came round the corner, al- 
 ready in the saddle, each with his canvas bread-bag 
 over his shoulder and his rifle slung by his stirrup. 
 They were mounted on powerful black chargers, 
 well-fed, good-tempered animals, extremely well 
 kept, and evidently accustomed to long marches. 
 The carabineers, foot and horse, are by far the 
 finest corps in the Italian army, and are, indeed, 
 one of the finest and best equipped bodies of men 
 in the world. They are selected with the greatest 
 care, and every man has to prove that neither he 
 nor his father has ever been in jail, even for the 
 slightest misdemeanour. The troopers and the men 
 of the foot corps rank as corporals of the regular 
 army, and many of them have been sergeants. In 
 the same way each degree of rank is reckoned as 
 equal to the next higher in the army, and the whole 
 corps is commanded by a colonel. There are now 
 about twenty-five thousand in the whole country, 
 quartered in every town and village in squads from 
 four or five, to twenty or thirty strong. The whole 
 of Italy is patrolled by them, day and night, both 
 by high roads and bridle-paths, and on the mainland
 
 166 COIi LEONE 
 
 they have effectually stamped out brigandage and 
 highway robbery. But in Sicily they are pitted 
 against very different odds. 
 
 The road rises rapidly beyond Piedimonte, wind- 
 ing up through endless vinelands to the enormous 
 yoke which unites Etna with the inland mountains. 
 Orsino leaned back silently in his place, gazing at 
 the snow-covered dome of the volcano, from the 
 summit of which rose a thin wreath of perfectly 
 white smoke. From time to time San Giacinto 
 pointed out to his companion the proposed direction 
 of his light railway, Avhich was to follow the same 
 general direction as the carriage road. The coun- 
 try, though still cultivated, was lonely, and the 
 barren heights of Etna, visible always, gave the 
 landscape a singular character. To the westward 
 rose the wooded hills, stretching far away inland, 
 dark and mysterious. 
 
 They halted again in the high street of a long, 
 clean village, called Linguaglossa, and some of the 
 carabineers dismounted and drank from a fountain, 
 being half choked with the dust. The master of 
 the vehicle got down and dived into a quiet-looking 
 house, returning presently with a big, painted 
 earthenware jug full of wine, and a couple of solid 
 glasses, which he filled and held out, without a 
 word, to San Giacinto and Orsino. The wine 
 was almost black, very heavy and strong. They 
 quenched their thirst, and then the man swallowed
 
 CORLEONE 167 
 
 two glasses in succession. San Giacinto held out 
 some small change to him to pay for the drink. 
 But he laughed a little. 
 
 " One does not pay for wine in our country/' he 
 said. " They sell a pitcher like this for three sous 
 at the wineshops, but this is the house of a very 
 rich signore, who makes at least a thousand barrels 
 every year. What should one pay? One sou? 
 That is as much as it is worth. A man can get 
 drunk for five sous here." 
 
 " I should think so ! It is as strong as spirits," 
 said Orsino. 
 
 " But the people are very sober," answered San 
 Giacinto. " They have strong heads, too." 
 
 They were soon off again, along the endless 
 road. Gradually, the vinelands began to be broken 
 by patches of arid ground, where dark stone cropped 
 up, and the dry soil seemed to produce nothing but 
 the poisonous yellow spurge. 
 
 It was long past noon when the dark walls and 
 the cathedral spire of Randazzo came into sight. 
 They found Basili's house, and the notary, whose 
 daughter was already famous in Home, was at work 
 in his dingy study, with a sheet of governmental 
 stamped paper before him. He was a curious com- 
 pound of a provincial and a man of law, with regular 
 features and extremely black eyebrows, the rest of 
 his hair being white. Orsino thought that he must 
 have been handsome in his youth.
 
 168 COELEONE 
 
 Everything was prepared according to the orders 
 San Giacinto had written. Basili handed over a 
 big bunch of keys, most of which were rusty, while 
 two of them were bright, as though they had been 
 recently much used. He hardly spoke at all, but 
 looked at his visitors attentively, and with evident 
 curiosity. He called a man who was in readiness 
 to go with them. 
 
 " Shall we find anybody at the house ? " en- 
 quired Orsino. 
 
 "Not unless someone has been locked in," was 
 the answer. "Nevertheless, it might be safer not 
 to go straight to the door, but to get under the 
 wall, and come up to it in that way. One never 
 knows what may be behind a door until it is open." 
 
 San Giacinto laughed rather dryly, and Orsino 
 looked hard at Basili to discover a smile. 
 
 " But, indeed," continued the notary, " there are 
 too many bushes about the house. If I might be 
 so bold as to offer my advice, I should say that 
 you had better cut down the bushes at once. You 
 will have time to begin this evening, for the days 
 are long." 
 
 "Are they unhealthy?" enquired Orsino, not 
 understanding in the least. 
 
 " Unhealthy ? Oh, no. But they are convenient 
 for hiding, and there are people of bad intentions 
 everywhere. I do not speak of Don Ferdinando 
 Pagliuca, believe me. But there are persons of
 
 CORLEONE 169 
 
 no conscience, who do not esteem life as anything. 
 But I do not mean to signify Don Ferdinando 
 Pagliuca, I assure you. Gentlemen, I wish you 
 a pleasant journey, and every satisfaction, and 
 the fulfilment of your desires." 
 
 He bowed them out. being evidently not inclined 
 to continue the conversation, and they drove on 
 again, the man whom he had sent with them 
 being beside the padrone on the box. He had a 
 long old-fashioned gun slung over his shoulder, 
 evidently loaded, for there was a percussion cap 
 on the nipple of the lock. 
 
 Orsino thought Randazzo a grim and gloomy 
 town in spite of its beautiful carved stone bal- 
 conies and gates, and its Saracen-Norman cathe- 
 dral, and he was glad when they were out in the 
 country again, winding up through the beginning 
 of the black lands. San Giacinto looked about 
 him, and then began to get out one of the Win- 
 chesters, without making any remark. Orsino 
 watched him as he dropped the cartridges one 
 by one into the repeater and then examined the 
 action again, to see that all was in working 
 order. 
 
 " You understand them, I suppose ? " he asked 
 of Orsino. 
 
 "Yes, of course." 
 
 "Then you had better load the other," said the 
 big man, quietly.
 
 170 COELEONE 
 
 "As you please," answered Orsino, evidently 
 considering the precaution superfluous, and he got 
 out the other rifle with great deliberation. 
 
 They were going slowly up a steep hill, and 
 the carabineers were riding close behind them at 
 a foot pace. The two gentlemen could, of course, 
 not see the road in front. The padrone and 
 Basili's man were talking in a low tone in the 
 Sicilian dialect. 
 
 Suddenly, Avith a clanging and clattering, two 
 of the troopers passed the carriage at a full gallop 
 up the hill. The sergeant trotted up to San 
 Giacinto's side, looking sharply ahead of him. 
 Basili's man slipped the sling of his gun over 
 his head in an instant, and laid the weapon 
 across his knees, and Orsino distinctly heard him 
 cock the old-fashioned hammer. San Giacinto 
 still had his rifle in his hand, and he leaned out 
 over the carriage to see what was ahead. 
 
 There was nothing to be seen but the two 
 carabineers charging up the steep road at a 
 gallop. 
 
 "There was a man on horseback waiting at the 
 crest of the hill," said the sergeant. "As soon 
 as he saw us he wheeled and galloped on. He is 
 out of sight now. They will not catch him, for 
 he had a good horse." 
 
 "Have you had much trouble lately?" asked 
 San Giacinto.
 
 CORLEONE 171 
 
 " They killed one of my men last week and used 
 his uniform for a disguise," answered the soldier, 
 gravely. " That fellow was waiting there to warn 
 somebody that we were coming." 
 
 The troopers halted when they reached the top 
 of the hill, looked about, and made a sign to the 
 sergeant, signifying that they could not catch the 
 man. The sergeant answered by a gesture which 
 bade them wait. 
 
 "Touch your horses, Tato," he said to the 
 padrone, who had neither moved nor looked 
 round during the excitement, but who immedi- 
 ately obeyed. 
 
 The carriage moved quickly up the hill, till it 
 overtook the carabineers. Then San Giacinto saw 
 that the road descended rapidly by a sharp curve 
 to the left, following a spur of the mountain. 
 No one was in sight, nor was there any sound of 
 hoofs in the distance. To the right, below the 
 road, the land was much broken, and there was 
 shelter from sight for a man and his horse almost 
 anywhere for a mile ahead. 
 
 When Orsino. had finished loading the rifle, he 
 looked about him, and saw for the first time 
 the black lands of which Vittoria had spoken, 
 realizing the truth of what she had said about the 
 possibility of a man hiding himself in the fissures 
 of the lava, to fire upon a traveller in perfect 
 security. With such an escort he and his com-
 
 172 COELEONE 
 
 pan ion were perfectly safe, of course, but he began 
 to understand what was meant by the common 
 practice of carrying firearms. 
 
 It is impossible to imagine anything more hide- 
 ously desolate and sombrely wild than the high 
 ground behind Mount Etna. The huge eruptions 
 of former and recent times have for ages sent down 
 rivers of liquid stone and immeasurable clouds of 
 fine black ashes, which have all hardened roughly 
 into a conformation which is rugged but not wholly 
 irregular, for the fissures mostly follow the down- 
 ward direction of the slope, westward from the 
 volcano. All over the broad black surface the 
 spurge grows in patches during the spring, and 
 somehow the vivid yellow of the flowers makes the 
 dark stone and hardened ash look still darker and 
 more desolate. Here and there, every two or three 
 miles, there are groups of deserted huts built of 
 black tufo, doorless and windowless, and almost 
 always on the edge of some bit of arable land that 
 stretches westward between two old lava beds. 
 The distances are so great that the peasants move 
 out in a body to cultivate these outlying fields at 
 certain times of the year, and sleep in the impro- 
 vised villages until the work is done, when they 
 go back to the towns, leaving the crops to take care 
 of themselves until harvest time. In the guerilla 
 warfare which breaks out periodically between the 
 carabineers and the outlaws, the stone huts are
 
 CORLEONE 173 
 
 important points of vantage, and once or twice 
 have been the scene of hard-fought battles. Being 
 of stone, though roughly built, and being pierced 
 with mere holes for windows, they are easily 
 defended from within by n;c:i armed with repeat- 
 ers and plentiful ammunition. 
 
 After the little excitement caused by the pursuit 
 of the unknown rider, two of the troopers rode 
 before the carriage, and three followed it, while 
 all got their rifles across their saddle-bows, ready 
 for action. They knew well enough that as long 
 as they kept together, even a large band of brig- 
 ands would not attack them 011 the open road, but 
 there were plenty of narrow places where the 
 earth was high on each side, and where a single 
 well-directed volley might easily have killed many 
 of the party. Since the outlaAvs' latest invention 
 of shooting the carabineers in order to disguise 
 themselves in their uniforms, the troopers were 
 more than ever cautious and on the alert against 
 a surprise. 
 
 But nothing happened. The single horseman 
 had disappeared altogether, having probably taken 
 to the broken land for greater safety, and the car- 
 riage jogged steadily on across the high land, 
 towards its destination, with a regular jingling of 
 harness bells, and an equally rhythmic clanking 
 of' sabres. 
 
 " A little quicker, Tato," said the sergeant to the
 
 174 CORLEONE 
 
 padrone, from time to time, but no one else said 
 anything. 
 
 Both San Giacinto and Orsino were weary of the 
 long drive when, at an abrupt curve of the road, 
 the horses slackened speed, to turn out of the high- 
 way, to the right. 
 
 " There is Camaldoli," said Tato, turning round 
 to speak to them for the first time since they had 
 started. " You can see the Druse's tower above 
 the trees, and the river is below." 
 
 So far as the two gentlemen could see there was 
 not another habitation in sight, though it was no 
 very great distance to the village of Santa Vittoria, 
 beyond the next spur of Etna. The ancient build- 
 ing, of which only the top of one square black tower 
 appeared, was concealed by a dense mass of foliage 
 of every kind. Below, to the right and towards the 
 mountain stream which Tato called a river, the land 
 was covered with wild pear trees, their white blos- 
 soms all out and reflecting the lowering sun. Nearer 
 the building, the pink bloom of the flowering 
 peaches formed a low cloud of exqxiisite colour, and 
 the fresh green of the taller trees of all kinds made 
 a feathery screen above and a compact mass of 
 dark shadow lower down. The narrow drive was 
 thickly hedged with quantities of sweetbrier and 
 s \veet hawthorn, which increased as the road 
 descended, till it filled everything up to a man's 
 height and higher. The way was so narrow that
 
 COBLEONE 175 
 
 when the carabineers tried to ride on each side of 
 the carriage, they found it impossible to do so with- 
 out being driven into the tangle of thorns at. every 
 step. The whole party moved forward at a quick 
 trot, 'and Orsino understood what Basili the notary 
 had said about the bushes, so that even he laid his 
 rifle across his knees and peered into the brambles 
 from time to time, half expecting to see the muzzle 
 of a gun sticking through the green leaves and 
 white flowers. 
 
 The avenue seemed to be about half a mile long. 
 In the middle of it the trees were so thick as to 
 make it almost gloomy, even in the broad afternoon 
 daylight. The road was rough and stony. 
 
 Suddenly the horse of one of the carabineers 
 ahead stumbled and fell heavily, and the other 
 trooper threw his horse back on its haunches with 
 an exclamation. Almost at the same instant, the 
 sharp crack of a rifle rang through the trees 011 
 the right ; and the bullet, singing overhead, cut 
 through the branches just above the carriage, so 
 that a twig with its leaves dropped upon Orsino's 
 knees. Another shot, fired very low down, struck 
 a spoke of one of the carriage wheels, and sent the 
 splinters flying, burying itself somewhere in the 
 body of the vehicle. Another and another followed, 
 all fired either far too high or much too low to 
 strike any of the party. As the shots all came from 
 the same side, however, the sergeant of carabineers
 
 176 COItLEONE 
 
 sprang to the ground and plunged into the brush 
 on that side, his rifle in his hand, calling to his 
 men to follow him. San Giacinto stood up and 
 knelt on the cushion of the carriage, though he 
 knew that he could not fire in the direction taken 
 by the carabineers, lest he should hit one of them 
 by accident. 
 
 " Keep a lookout on your side, too ! " he cried 
 to Orsino. "Shoot anybody you see, and do not 
 miss. They may be on both sides, but I think 
 not." 
 
 Strangely enough, from the moment the soldiers 
 entered the brush, not another shot was fired. 
 Clearly the assailants were beating a hasty retreat. 
 
 At that moment something black stirred in the 
 bushes on Orsino' s side. Instantly his rifle was ' at 
 his shoulder, and he fired. San Giacinto started 
 and turned round, bringing up his own weapon at 
 the same time. 
 
 " I believe I heard something fall," said Orsino, 
 opening the door of the carriage. Tato had disap- 
 peared. Basili's man had followed the soldiers 
 into the brush. 
 
 In an instant both the gentlemen were in the 
 thicket, Orsino leading, as he followed the direction 
 of his shot.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 OBSINO'S gloved hand trembled violently as lie 
 pushed aside the tangle of sweetbrier, trying to 
 reach the place where the man upon whom he had 
 fired had fallen. 
 
 "Let me go first," said San Giacinto. "I am 
 bigger and my gloves are thicker." 
 
 But Orsino pushed on, his heart beating so hard 
 that he felt the pulse in his throat and his eyes. 
 He had been cool enough when the bullets had been 
 flying across the carriage, and his hand had been 
 quife steady when he had aimed at the black 
 something moving stealthily in the bushes. But 
 the sensation of having killed a man, and in such 
 a way, was horrible to him. He pushed on, 
 scratching his face and his wrists above his 
 gloves, in the .sharp thorns. The bushes were 
 more than breast high, even to his tall figure, 
 but San Giacinto could see over his head. 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed the giant, suddenly. 
 "There he is to your right I can see him!" 
 
 Orsino pushed on, and in another moment his 
 foot struck something hard that moved a little, but 
 VOL. i. x 177
 
 178 CORLEONE 
 
 was not a stone. It was the dead man's foot in a 
 heavy shooting-boot. 
 
 They found him quite dead, not fallen to the 
 ground, but half sitting and half lying in the 
 thorns. He had fallen straight backwards, shot 
 through the temples. The eyes were wide open, 
 but without light, the handsome face perfectly 
 colourless, and the silky, brown moustache hid 
 the relaxed mouth. His rifle stood upright in the 
 bush as it had fallen from his hand. His soft hat 
 was still firmly planted on the back of his head. 
 
 Orsino was stupefied with horror and stood quite 
 still, gazing at the dead man's face. San Giacinto 
 looked down over his shoulders. 
 
 " He looks like a gentleman, " he said, in a low 
 voice. 
 
 The chill of a terrible presentiment froze about 
 Orsino's heart. As he looked, the handsome feat- 
 ures became, familiar, all at once, as though he 
 had often seen them before. 
 
 "We had better get him out to the road," said 
 San Giacinto. "The carabineers may identify 
 him. The sooner, the better, though you were 
 perfectly justified in shooting him." 
 
 He laid his hand upon Orsino's shoulder to make 
 him move a little, and the young man started. 
 Then he bit his trembling lip and stooped to try 
 and lift the body. As he touched the velveteen 
 coat, the head fell suddenly to one side, and
 
 COE LEONE 179 
 
 Orsino uttered an involuntary exclamation. He 
 had never moved a dead man before. 
 
 "It is nothing," said San Giacinto, quietly. 
 "He is quite dead. Take his feet." 
 
 He pushed past Orsino and lifted the head and 
 shoulders, beginning to move towards the road at 
 once, walking backwards and breaking down the 
 bushes with his big shoulders. They got him out 
 upon the road. The carriage horses were standing 
 quite still, with their heads hanging down, as 
 though nothing had happened. They had plunged 
 a little at first. In the road before them stood the 
 trooper who had been thrown, holding his own and 
 another charger by the bridle. The cause of the 
 accident was clear enough. A pit had been 
 treacherously dug across the road and covered 
 with sticks and wood, so as to be invisible. Fort- 
 unately the horse had escaped injury. The others 
 were tethered by their bridles to the back of 
 the carriage. In the brush, far to the right, the 
 tall bushes were moving, showing where the other 
 four carabineers were searching for the outlaws 
 who had fired, jf, indeed, there had been more 
 than one. 
 
 They laid the dead man in the middle of the 
 road, on the other side of the ditch, out of reach 
 of the horses' feet, and the trooper watched them 
 without speaking, though with a satisfied look of 
 approval.
 
 180 COELEONE 
 
 "Do you know him?" asked San Giacinto, 
 addressing the soldier. 
 
 "No, Signer Marchese. But I have not been 
 long on this station. The brigadiere will know 
 him, and will be glad. I came to take the place 
 of the man they killed last week." 
 
 Orsino looked curiously at the young carabineer, 
 who took matters so quietly, when he himself was 
 struggling hard to seem calm. He would not have 
 believed that he could ever have felt such inward 
 weakness and horror as filled him, and he could 
 not trust himself to speak, yet he had no reason to 
 doubt that he had saved his own life or San Gia- 
 cinto's by firing in time. 
 
 "I see why the other ones fired so wildly," said 
 San Giacinto. " They were afraid of hitting their 
 friend, who was to do the real work alone, while 
 they led the carabineers off on a false scent on the 
 other side. This fellow felt quite safe. He 
 thought he could creep up to the carriage and 
 make sure of us at close quarters. He did not 
 expect that one of us would be on the lookout." 
 
 "That is a common trick," said the soldier. "I 
 have seen it done at Noto. It must have been a 
 single person that fired, and this man was also 
 alone. If he had been with a companion, the 
 gentleman's shot would have been answered, and 
 one of you would have been killed." 
 
 "Then it was the other man who was waiting
 
 COR LEONE 181 
 
 on horseback in the road to warn this one of our 
 coming ? " 
 
 "Evidently, Signer Marchese." 
 
 Still Orsino stood quite still, gazing down into 
 the dead man's face, and feeling very unsteady. 
 Just then nothing else seemed to have any exist- 
 ence for him, and he was unaware of all outward 
 things excepting that one thing that lay there, limp 
 and helpless, killed by his hand in the flash of an 
 instant. And as he gazed, he fancied that the 
 young features in their death pallor grew more 
 and more familiar, and at his own heart there was 
 a freezing and a stiffening, as though he were turn- 
 ing into ice from within. 
 
 The sergeant and the troopers came back, covered 
 with brambles, hot and grim, and empty-handed. 
 
 "Did any of you fire that other shot? " he asked, 
 as soon as he was in the road. 
 
 " I did," said Orsino. " I killed this man." 
 
 The sergeant sprang forward, and his men 
 pressed after him to see. The sergeant bent 
 down and examined the dead face attentively. 
 Then he looked- up. 
 
 "You have killed rather an important person," 
 he said gravely. "This is Ferdinando Pagliuca. 
 We knew that he was on good terms with the out- 
 laws, but we could not prove it against him." 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Tato, the padrone, suddenly 
 appearing again. "That is Don Ferdinando. I
 
 182 CORLEONE 
 
 know him very well, for I have often driven him. 
 Who would have thought it? " 
 
 Orsino had heard nothing after the sergeant had 
 pronounced the name. He almost reeled against 
 San Giacinto, and gripped the latter's arm des- 
 perately, his face almost as white as the dead 
 man's. Even San Giacinto started in surprise. 
 Then Orsino made a great effort and straightened 
 himself, and walked away a few paces. 
 
 "This is a bad business," said San Giacinto, in 
 a preoccupied tone. "We shall have the whole 
 mafia against us for this. Has the other man 
 escaped?" 
 
 "Clean gone," said the sergeant. "You had 
 better luck than we, for we never saw him. He 
 must have fired his shots from his horse and 
 bolted instantly. We could not have got through 
 the brush with our horses." 
 
 Orsino went and leaned against the carriage, 
 shading his eyes with his hands, while San 
 Giacinto and the soldiers talked over what had 
 happened. The sergeant set a couple of men to 
 work%n the brambles with their sabres, to cut a 
 way for the carriage on one side of the pitfall 
 that covered the road. 
 
 "Put the body into the carriage," said San Gia- 
 cinto. " We can walk. It is not far. " He roused 
 Orsino, who seemed to be half stunned. 
 
 "Come, my boy!" he said, drawing him away
 
 COELEONE 183 
 
 from the carriage as the soldiers were about to lay 
 the body in it. " Of course it is not pleasant, but 
 it cannot be helped, and you have rendered the 
 government a service, though you have got us into 
 an awkward position with the Corleone." 
 
 "Awkward!" Orsino's voice was hoarse and 
 broken. " You do not know ! " he added. 
 
 San Giacinto did not understand, but made him 
 fall back behind the carriage, which jolted horribly 
 with its dead occupant, as Tato forced his horses 
 to drag it round the end of the ditch. The cara- 
 bineers, still distrustful of the thick trees and 
 the underbrush, carried their rifles and led their 
 horses, and the whole party proceeded slowly 
 along the drive towards the ancient house. It 
 might have been a quarter of a mile distant. 
 Orsino walked the whole way in silence, with bent 
 head and set lips. 
 
 They emerged upon a wide open space, over- 
 grown with grass, wild flowers, and rank weeds, 
 through which a narrow path led straight up to 
 the main door. There had been a carriage road 
 once, following a. wide curve, but it had long been 
 disused, and even the path was not much trodden, 
 and the grass was beginning to grow in it. 
 
 The front of the house presented a broad, rough- 
 plastered surface, broken by but few windows, all 
 of which were high above the ground. The tower 
 was not visible from this side. From the back, the
 
 184 CORLEONE 
 
 sound of water came up with a steady, low roar. 
 The door was, in fact, a great oak gate, studded 
 with big rusty nails, paintless, grey, and weather- 
 beaten. Kegardless of old Basili's advice, San 
 Giacinto walked straight up to it, followed by the 
 notary's man with the bunch of keys. 
 
 The loneliness of it all was beyond description, 
 and was, if possible, enhanced by the roar of the 
 water. The air was damp, too, from the torrent 
 bed, and near one end of the house there were 
 great patches of moss. At the other side, towards 
 the sun, the remains of what had been a vegetable 
 garden were visible, rank broccoli and cabbages 
 thrusting up their bunches of pale green leaves, 
 broken trellises of cane, half fallen in, and over- 
 grown with tomato vines and wild creeping plants. 
 A breath of air brought a smell of rotting vege- 
 tables and damp earth to San Giacinto's nostrils, 
 as he tried one key after another in the lock. 
 
 They got in at last, and entered under a gloomy 
 archway, beyond which there was a broad court- 
 yard, where the grass grew between the flagstones. 
 In the middle was an ancient well, on the right 
 a magnificently carved doorway led into the old 
 chapel of the monastery. On the left, opposite 
 the chapel, a long row of windows, with closed 
 shutters in fairly good condition, showed the posi- 
 tion of the habitable rooms. 
 
 "Is that a church?" asked San Giacinto of
 
 COR LEONE 185 
 
 Basili's man. "Take the dead man in and leave 
 him there," he added, as the man nodded and 
 began to look for the key on the bunch. 
 
 They took Ferdinando Pagliuca's body from the 
 carriage, which stood in the middle of the court- 
 yard, and carried it in and laid it down on the 
 uppermost step of one of the side altars, of which 
 there were three. Orsino followed them. 
 
 It was a very dilapidated place. There had 
 once been a few frescoes, which were falling from 
 the walls with age and dampness. High up, 
 through the open windows from which the glass 
 had long since disappeared, the swallows shot 
 in and out, bringing a dark gleam of sunshine on 
 their sharp, black wings. Although the outer 
 air had free access, there was a heavy, death-like 
 smell of mould in the place. The altars were dis- 
 mantled and the grey dust lay thick upon them, 
 with fragments of plaster here and there. Only 
 on the high altar a half-broken wooden candle- 
 stick, once silvered, stood bending over, and a 
 little glazed frame still contained a mouldering 
 printed copy of the Canon of the Mass. In the 
 middle of the floor a round slab of marble, with 
 two greenish bolts of brass, bore the inscription, 
 'Ossa K, R. PP.' covering the pit wherein lay 
 the bones of the departed monks who had once 
 dwelt in the monastery. 
 
 The troopers laid Ferdinando's body upon the
 
 186 COBLEONE 
 
 stone steps in silence, and then went away, for 
 there was much to be done. Orsiiio stayed 
 behind, alone, for his cousin had not even entered 
 the church. He knelt down for a few moments on 
 the lowest step. It seemed a sort of act of rever- 
 ence to the man whom he had killed. Mechani- 
 cally he said a prayer for the dead. 
 
 But his thoughts were of the living. The man 
 who lay there was Vittoria d'Oriani's brother, the 
 brother of his future wife, qf the being he held 
 most dear in the world. Between him and her 
 there was her own blood, shed by his hand. The 
 shot had done more than kill Ferdiuando Pagliuca; 
 it had mortally wounded his own life. 
 
 He asked himself whether Vittoria, or any 
 woman, could marry the man who had killed her 
 brother. In time, she might forgive, indeed, but 
 she could not forget. No one could. And there 
 were her other brothers, and her mother, and they 
 were Sicilians, revengeful and long pursuing in 
 their revenge. Never, under any imaginable cir- 
 cumstances, would they give their consent to his 
 marriage with Vittoria, even supposing that she 
 herself, in the course of years, could blot out the 
 memory of the dead. He might as well make up 
 his mind that she Avas lost to him. 
 
 But that was hard to do, for the roots of growing 
 love had struck deep and burrowed themselves in 
 under his heart almost unawares, from week to
 
 COB LEONE 187 
 
 week since he had known her, and to tear them 
 up was to tear out the heart itself. 
 
 He went to the other side of the dim chapel and 
 rested his dark forehead against the mouldering 
 walls. It was as though he were going mad then 
 and there. He drew himself up and said, almost 
 aloud, that he was a man and must act like a man. 
 No one had ever accused him of being unmanly, 
 and he could not tamely bear the accusation from 
 himself. 
 
 All the old hackneyed phrases of cynical people 
 he had known came back to him. 'Only one 
 woman, and the world was full of them ' and 
 much to that same effect. And all the time he 
 knew that such words could never fit his lips, 
 and that though the world was full of women, 
 there was only one for him, and between her 
 and him lay the barrier of her own brother's 
 blood. 
 
 He turned as he stood, and saw the straight, 
 dark figure, with its folded hands, lying on the 
 steps of the altar opposite the outward fact, as 
 his love for Victoria was the inward truth. 
 
 The horror of it all came over him again like a 
 surging wave, roaring in his ears and deafening 
 him. It could have been but one degree worse if 
 Vittoria's brother had been his friend, instead of 
 his enemy, and if he had killed him in anger. 
 
 He remembered that he had expected to send his
 
 188 COELEONE 
 
 mother a long and reassuring telegram on this day, 
 and that he had told Vittoria that she should go to 
 the Palazzo Saracinesca and hear news of him. 
 There was a telegraph station at Santa Vittoria, 
 three-quarters of a mile from Camaldoli, but he 
 was confronted by the difficulty of sending any 
 clear message which should not contain an allu- 
 sion to Ferdinando Pagliuca's death, since the 
 carabineers would be obliged to report the fact 
 at once, and it would be in the Roman papers on 
 the following morning. 
 
 That was a new and terrible thought. There 
 would be the short telegraphic account of how 
 Don Orsino Saracinesca had been attacked by 
 brigands in a narrow road and had shot one of 
 the number, who turned out to be Ferdinando 
 Corleone. Her mother, who always read the 
 papers, would read that, too. Then her brothers 
 then Vittoria. And his own mother would 
 see it his head seemed bursting. And there 
 lay the fact, the source of these inevitable things, 
 cold and calm, with the death smile already steal- 
 ing over its white face. 
 
 San Giacinto stalked in, looking about him, and 
 the sound of his tread roused Orsino. 
 
 "Come," he said, rather sternly. "There is 
 much to be done. I could not find you. The 
 man is dead; you did right in killing him, and 
 we must think of our own safety."
 
 CORLEONE 189 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Orsino, in a dull 
 voice. "We are safe enough, it seems to me." 
 
 "The sergeant does not seem to think so," 
 answered San Giacinto. "Before night it will 
 be known that Ferdinando Pagliuca is dead, and 
 we may have half the population of Santa Vittoria 
 about our ears. Fortunately this place will stand 
 a siege. Two of the troopers have gone to the 
 village to try and get a reinforcement, and to bring 
 the doctor to report the death, so that we can 
 bury the man. Come come with me ! We will 
 shut the church up till the doctor comes, and think 
 no more about it." 
 
 He saw that Orsino was strangely moved by 
 what had happened, and he drew him out into 
 the air. The carriage was being unloaded by 
 Tato and the notary's man, and the horses had 
 all disappeared. The sergeant and the two remain- 
 ing troopers were busy clearing out a big room 
 which opened upon the court, with the intention 
 of turning it into a guardroom. Orsino looked 
 at them indifferently. A renewed danger would 
 have roused hyii, but nothing else could. San 
 Giacinto led him away to show him the buildings. 
 
 "Your nerves have been shaken," said the older 
 man. " But you will soon get over that. I remem- 
 ber once upon a time being a good deal upset my- 
 self, when a man whom I had caught -in mischief 
 suddenly killed himself almost in my hands."
 
 190 CORLEONE 
 
 "I shall get over it, as you say," answered 
 Orsino. "Give me one of those strong cigars 
 of yours, will you? " 
 
 He would have given a good deal to have been 
 able to confide in San Giacinto and tell him the 
 real trouble. Had he been sure that any imme- 
 diate good could come of it, he would have spoken ; 
 but it seemed to him, on the contrary, that to 
 speak of Vittoria might make matters worse. 
 They wandered over the dark old place for half 
 an hour. At the back, over the torrent, there 
 was one long wall with a rampart, terminating 
 in the evil-looking Druse's tower. The trees 
 grew thick over the stream, and there was only 
 one opening in the wall, closed by double low 
 doors with heavy bolts. The whole building was, 
 in reality, a tolerably strong fortress, built round 
 the four sides of a single great courtyard, to which 
 there was but one entrance, besides the little 
 postern over the river. 
 
 " I should like to send a telegram to Rome," said 
 Orsino, suddenly. " It is not too late for them to 
 get it to-night." 
 
 " You can send it to Santa Vittoria by the doctor, 
 when he goes back." 
 
 Orsino went down into the court and got a writ- 
 ing-case out of his bag. It seemed convenient to 
 write on the seat of the carriage, but just as he 
 was going to place his writing things there, he
 
 COR LEONE 191 
 
 saw that there were dark wet spots on the cush- 
 ions. He shuddered and turned away in disgust, 
 and wrote his message, leaning on the stone brink 
 of the well. 
 
 He telegraphed that San Giacinto and he had 
 arrived and were well, that they had met with an 
 attack, and that he himself had killed a man. 
 But he did not write Ferdiuando's name. That 
 seemed useless. 
 
 The doctor arrived, and the carabineers brought 
 a couple of men of the foot brigade to strengthen 
 the little garrison. As they entered, San Gia- 
 cinto saw that four rough-looking peasants were 
 standing outside the gate, conversing and looking 
 up to the windows; grim, clean-shaven, black- 
 browed men of the poorer class, for they had no 
 guns and wore battered hats and threadbare blue 
 cloaks. San Giacinto handed the doctor over to the 
 sergeant and went outside at once. The men stared 
 in silence at the gigantic figure that faced them. 
 In his rough dark clothes and big soft hat, San 
 Giacinto looked more vast than ever, and his bold 
 and sombre features and stern black eyes com- 
 pleted the impression he made on the hill men. 
 He looked as though he might have been the chief 
 of all the outlaws in Sicily. 
 
 " Listen ! " he said, stepping up to them. " This 
 place is mine now, for I have bought it and paid 
 for it, and I mean to keep it. Your friend Ferdi-
 
 192 COR LEONE 
 
 nando Pagliuea is dead. After consenting to the 
 sale, he dug a pitfall in the carriage road to stop 
 us, and he and a friend of his attacked ns. We 
 shot him, and you can go and look at his body in 
 the chapel, in there, if you have curiosity about 
 him. There are eleven men of us here, seven 
 being carabineers, and we have plenty of ammu- 
 nition, so that it will not be well for anyone 
 who troubles us. Tell your friends so. This is 
 going to be a barrack, and there will be a com- 
 pany of infantry here before long, and there will 
 be a railway before two years. Tell your friends 
 that also. I suppose you are men from the 
 Camaldoli farms." 
 
 Two of the peasants nodded, but said nothing. 
 
 "If you want work, begin and clear away those 
 bushes. You Avill know where there are tools. 
 Here is money, if you will begin at once. If you 
 do not want money, say what you do want. But 
 if you want nothing, go, or I shall shoot you." 
 
 He suddenly had a big army revolver in one 
 hand, and he pulled out a loose bank note with 
 the other. 
 
 "But I prefer that we should be good friends," 
 he concluded, "for I have much work for every- 
 body, and plenty of money to pay for it." 
 
 The men were not cowards, but they were taken 
 unawares by San Giacinto's singular speech. They 
 looked at each other, and at the bushes. One of
 
 CORLEONE 193 
 
 them threw his head back a little, thrusting out 
 his chin, which signifies a negation. The shortest 
 of the four, a broad-shouldered, tough-looking fel- 
 low stepped before the rest. 
 
 "We will work for you, but we will not cut 
 down the bushes. We will do any other work 
 than that. You will not find anybody here who 
 will cut down the bushes." 
 
 "Why not?" asked San Giacinto. 
 
 " Eh it is so, " said the man, with a peculiar 
 expression. 
 
 The other three shrugged their shoulders and 
 nodded silently, but kept their eyes on San Gia- 
 cinto's revolver. 
 
 "We are good people," continued the man. 
 "We wish to be friends with everyone, and 
 since you have bought the estate, and own the 
 land on which we live, we shall pay our rent, 
 when we have anything wherewith to pay, and 
 when we have not, God will provide. But as 
 for the bushes, we cannot cut them down. We 
 wish to be friends with everyone. But as for 
 that, signore, if you have no axes nor hedging 
 knives, we have* them. We will bring them, and 
 then we will go away and do any other work for 
 you. Thus we shall not cut down the bushes, but 
 perhaps the bushes will be cut down." 
 
 San Giacinto laughed a little, and the big 
 revolver went back into his pocket. 
 VOL. i. o
 
 194 CORLEONE 
 
 "I see that we shall be friends, then," he said. 
 "When you have brought the hatchets, then you 
 can come inside and help to clean the house. 
 Then I will give you this money for your work 
 this evening and to-morrow." 
 
 The men spoke rapidly together in dialect, so 
 that San Giacinto could not understand them. 
 Then the spokesman addressed him again. 
 
 "Signore," he said, "we will bring the hatchets 
 to the door, but it is late to clean the house this 
 evening. We do not want the money to-night. 
 We will return in the morning and work for 
 you." 
 
 "There are three hours of daylight yet," ob- 
 served San Giacinto. " You could do something in 
 that time, I should think." 
 
 "An hour and a half," replied the man. "It is 
 late," he added. "It is very late." 
 
 The other three nodded. San Giacinto under- 
 stood perfectly that there was some other reason, 
 but did not insist. He fancied that they were sus- 
 picious of his own intentions with regard to them, 
 and he let them go without further words. 
 
 As he turned back, the village doctor appeared 
 under the arch, leading his mule. He was a pale 
 young fellow from Messina, who had been three or 
 four years at Santa Vittoria. San Giacinto offered 
 him an escort back to the village, but he refused. 
 
 "If I could not go about alone, my usefulness
 
 COR LEONE 195 
 
 would be over," he said. "It is quite safe now. 
 They will probably kill me the next time there 
 is a cholera season." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " They are convinced that the government sends 
 them the cholera through the doctors, to thin the 
 population," answered the young man, with a 
 dreary smile. 
 
 "What a country! It is worse than Naples." 
 
 "In some ways, far worse. In others, much 
 better." 
 
 'In what way is it better?" asked San Gia- 
 cinto, with some curiosity. 
 
 "They are terrible enemies," said the doctor, 
 "but they can be very devoted friends, too." 
 
 "Oh we have had a taste of their enmity first. 
 I hope we may see something of their friendship 
 before long." 
 
 "I doubt it, Signer Marchese. You will have 
 the people against you from first to last, and your 
 position is dangerous. Ferdinando Corleone was 
 popular, and he had the outlaws on his side. I 
 have no doubt ttat many of the band have been 
 hidden here. It is a lonely and desolate house, 
 full of queer hiding-places. By the bye, are you 
 going to bury that poor man here? Shall I send 
 people down from Santa Vittoria Avith a coffin, to 
 carry him up to the cemetery ? " 
 
 "You know the country. What should you
 
 196 CORLEONE 
 
 advise me to do? We must give him Christian 
 burial, I suppose." 
 
 "I should be inclined to lift up the slab in 
 the church and quietly drop him down among 
 the monks," said the doctor. "That would be 
 Christian burial enough for him. But you had 
 better consult the sergeant about it. If he is taken 
 up to Santa Vittoria, there will be a great public 
 funeral, and all the population will follow, as 
 though he were a martyr. If you bury him with- 
 out a priest, they will say that you not only 
 murdered him treacherously, but got rid of his 
 body by stealth. Consult the sergeant, Signer 
 Marchese. That is best." 
 
 The doctor mounted his mule and rode away. 
 San Giacinto closed and barred the great gate 
 himself before he went back into the court. He 
 found Orsino in the midst of a discussion with 
 the sergeant, regarding the same question of the 
 disposal of the body. 
 
 " I know his family," Orsino was saying. " Some 
 of them are friends of mine. He must be decently 
 buried by a priest. I insist upon it." 
 
 The sergeant repeated what the doctor had said, 
 namely, that a public funeral would produce some- 
 thing like a popular demonstration. 
 
 "I should not care if it produced a revolution," 
 answered Orsino. "I killed the man like a dog, 
 not knowing who he was, but I will not have him
 
 COB LEONE 197 
 
 buried like one. If you are afraid of the village, 
 let them send their priest down here, dig a grave 
 under the floor of the church, and bury him there. 
 But he shall not be dropped into a hole like a dead 
 rat without a blessing. Besides, it is not legal 
 there are all sorts of severe regulations " 
 
 "There is one against burying anyone within a 
 church," observed the sergeant. "But the worst 
 that could happen would be that you might have 
 to pay a fine. It shall be as you please, signore. 
 In the morning we will get a priest and a coffin, 
 and bury him under the church. I have the 
 doctor's certificate in my pocket." 
 
 Orsino was satisfied, and went away to be alone 
 again, not caring where. But San Giacinto and 
 the carabineers proceeded to turn the great court 
 into something like a camp. There were all sorts 
 of offices, kitchens, bake-houses, oil-presses, and 
 storerooms, which opened directly upon the paved 
 space. The men collected old wood and kindling 
 stuff to make a fire, and prepared to cook some of 
 the provisions which San Giacinto had brought 
 for the night, ivhile he and the sergeant deter- 
 mined on the best positions for sentries. 
 
 Orsino wandered about the great rooms upstairs. 
 They were half dismantled and much dilapidated, 
 but not altogether unfurnished. Ferdinando had 
 retired some days previously to the village and 
 had taken what he needed for his own use, but
 
 198 COR LEONE 
 
 had left the rest. There was a tolerably fur- 
 nished room immediately above the great gate. 
 Orsino opened the window wide, and leaned out, 
 breathing the outer air with a certain sense of 
 relief from oppression. Watching the swallows 
 that darted down from under the eaves to the 
 weed-grown lawn, and up again with meteor 
 speed, and catching in his face the last reflexions 
 of the sun, which was sinking fast between two 
 distant hills, he could almost believe that it had 
 all been a bad dream. He could at least try to 
 believe it for a little while. 
 
 But the sun went down quickly, though it still 
 blazed full on the enormous snowy dome of Etna, 
 opposite the window; and the chill of evening 
 came on while it was yet day, and with it came 
 back the memory of the coldly smiling, handsome 
 face of dead Ferdinando Pagliuca, and the terrible 
 suggestion of a likeness to Vittoria, which had 
 struck at Orsino's heart when he had found him in 
 the bushes, shot through the head. It all came 
 back with a sudden, drowning rush that was over- 
 whelming. He turned from the window, and, to 
 occupy himself, he went and got his belongings 
 and tried to make the room habitable. He knew 
 that it was in a good position for the night, since 
 it was not likely that he should sleep much, and he 
 could watch the gate from the window, for his 
 share of the defence.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 As was perhaps to be expected, considering the 
 precautions taken, the friends of Ferdinando Pa- 
 gliuca gave no sign during the night. The cara- 
 bineers, when they are actually present anywhere, 
 impose respect, though their existence is forgotten 
 as soon as they are obliged to move on. 
 
 Orsino lay down upon a dusty mattress in the 
 room he had chosen. He had been down to the 
 court again, where San Giacinto ate his supper 
 from the soldiers' improvised kitchen, by the 
 light of a fire of brush and scraps of broken 
 wood, which one of the men replenished from 
 time to time. But Orsino was not hungry, and 
 presently he had gone upstairs again. About the 
 middle of the night, San Giacinto, carrying a lan- 
 tern, opened his door, and found him reading by 
 the light of a -solitary candle. 
 
 " Has all been quiet on this side ? " asked the 
 big man. 
 
 " All quiet," answered Orsino. 
 
 San Giacinto nodded, shut the door, and went 
 off, knowing that the young man would rather be 
 alone. An hour later, Orsino's book dropped from 
 199
 
 200 COELEONE 
 
 his hand, and he dozed a little, in a broken way. 
 Outside, the waning moon had risen high above 
 the shoulders of Etna, not a breath was stirring, 
 and only the distant roar of the water caine 
 steadily up from the other side of the old monas- 
 tery. Orsino dreamed strange, shapeless dreams 
 of vast desolateness and empty darkness, in which 
 he had no perception by sight, and heard only 
 the unbroken rush of water far away. Then, in 
 the extreme blackness of nothing, a dead face 
 appeared, with wide and sightless eyes that stared 
 at him, and he woke and turned upon his side 
 with a shudder, to doze again, and dream again, 
 and wake again. It was a horrible night. 
 
 Towards morning the dream changed. In the 
 darkness, together with the sub-bass of the torrent, 
 a voice came to him, in a low, long-drawn lamenta- 
 tion. It was Vittoria's voice, and yet unlike hers. 
 He could hear the words: 
 
 "Me 1' hanno ammazzato! Me 1' hanno ammaz- 
 zato ! " 
 
 It was Vittoria d'Oriani wailing over her brother's 
 body. Orsiuo heard the words and the voice dis- 
 tinctly. She was outside his door. She had dragged 
 the corpse up from the church in the dark, all the 
 long, winding way, to bring it to him and reproach 
 him, and to weep over it. He refused to allow 
 himself to awake, as one sometimes can in a 
 dream, for he knew, somehow, that he was not
 
 CORLEONE 201 
 
 altogether dreaming. There was an element of 
 reality in the two sounds of the river and the 
 voice, interfering with each other, and the voice 
 came irregularly, always repeating the same words, 
 but the river roared on without a break. Then 
 there was a sound of moaning without words, and 
 then the words began again, always the same. 
 
 Orsino started and sat up, wide awake. He was 
 sure that he was awake now, for he could see that 
 the light outside the window was grey. The dawn 
 was beginning to drink the moonlight out of the 
 air. He heard the voice distinctly. 
 
 " Me F hanno ammazzato ! " it moaned, but much 
 less loudly than he had heard it in his dream. 
 "They have killed him for me," is the meaning 
 of the words. 
 
 Orsino sprang from the bed, and opened the 
 door, which was opposite the window. The long 
 corridor was dark and quiet, and he turned back 
 and opened the casement, and looked out. 
 
 The words were half spoken again, but suddenly 
 ceased as he threw the window open. In the 
 dim grey dawnjie saw a muffled figure crouching 
 on the stones by the gate, slowly swaying forwards 
 and backwards. The wail began again, very soft 
 and low, and as though the woman half feared 
 to be heard and yet could not control herself. 
 
 Orsino watched her intently for a few moments, 
 and then understood. It was some woman who
 
 202 COELEONE 
 
 had loved Ferdinando Pagliuca, and who came in 
 the simple old way to mourn at the door of the 
 house wherein he lay dead. Her head was covered 
 with a black shawl, and her skirts were black, too, 
 but her hands were clasped about her knees, and 
 visible, and looked white in the dawn. 
 
 The young man drew back softly from the 
 windo\v, and sat down upon the edge of the bed. 
 He, of all men, had no right to silence the woman. 
 She did no harm, wailing for the dead man out 
 there in the cold dawn. She was not the only 
 one who was to mourn him on that day. In. a 
 few hours his sister would know, his mother, his 
 brothers, and all the world besides, though the rest 
 of the world mattered little enough to Orsino. 
 But this woman's grief was a sort of foretaste of 
 Vittoria's. She was but a peasant woman, per- 
 haps, or at most a girl of the small farmers' class, 
 but she had loved him, and would hate for ever 
 the man who had killed him. How much more 
 should the slayer be hated by the dead man's 
 own flesh and blood! 
 
 The light grew less grey by quick degrees, and 
 there were heavy footsteps in the corridor. Then 
 came a knock at the door, and a trooper appeared 
 in his forage cap. 
 
 " We have made the coffee, signore," he said, on 
 the threshold. 
 
 He held out a bright tin pannikin from which
 
 COELEONE 203 
 
 the steam rose in fragrant clouds. The physical 
 impression of the aromatic smell was the first 
 pleasant sensation which Orsino had experienced 
 since he had pulled the trigger of his rifle on the 
 previous afternoon. If we could but look at things 
 as they are, we should see that there is neither love 
 nor hate, neither joy nor grief, nor hope nor fear, 
 that will not at last efface itself for a moment 
 before hunger and thirst; so effectually can this 
 dying body mask and screen the undying essence. 
 
 Orsino drank the hot coffee with keen physical 
 delight, though the woman's wailing came up to 
 his ears through the open window, and though he 
 had known a moment earlier that the stealing 
 dawn was the beginning of a day which might 
 end in a broken heart. 
 
 But the trooper heard the voice, and went to the 
 window and looked out, while Orsino drank. 
 
 " Ho, there ! " he cried roughly. " Will you go 
 or not ? " He turned to Orsino. " She has been 
 there since two o'clock," he explained. " We heard 
 her through the closed gate." 
 
 "Let her alone," said Orsino, authoritatively. 
 " She is only a woman, and can do no harm ; and 
 she has a right to her mourning, God knows." 
 
 "There will be a hundred before the sun has 
 been up an hour, signore," answered the soldier. 
 "The people will collect about her, for they will 
 come out of curiosity, from many miles away. It
 
 204 CORLEONE 
 
 will be better to get rid of them as fast as they 
 come." 
 
 " You might let that poor woman in," suggested 
 Orsino. "After all, I have killed her lover she 
 has a right to see his body." 
 
 "As you wish, signore," answered the trooper, 
 taking the empty pannikin. 
 
 Orsino got up and looked out again, as the man 
 went away. The girl had risen to her feet, and 
 stood looking up to the window. Her shawl had 
 fallen back upon her shoulders, and disclosed a 
 young and dishevelled but beautiful head, of the 
 Greek type, though the eyes were somewhat long 
 and almond-shaped. There was no colour in the 
 olive-pale cheeks, and little in the parted lips; 
 and the hand that gathered the shawl to the bosom 
 was singularly white. The regular features were 
 set in a tragic mask of grief, such as one very 
 rarely sees in the modern world. 
 
 When she saw Orsino, she suddenly raised both 
 hands to him. like a suppliant of old. 
 
 "They have killed him!" she cried. "They 
 have killed my bridegroom ! Let me see him ! let 
 me kiss him ! Are they Christians, and will not 
 let me see him ? " 
 
 " You shall see him," answered Orsino. " I will 
 let you in myself." 
 
 " God will render it to you, signore. And God 
 will render also to his murderer a bad death."
 
 CORLEONE 205 
 
 She sat down upon the stones, thinking, perhaps, 
 that it would be long before the gate was opened; 
 and she began her low moan again. 
 
 " They have killed him ! They have murdered 
 him ! " 
 
 But Orsino had already left the window and the 
 room. He had understood clearly from her words 
 and face that she was no light creature, for whom 
 Ferdinando had conceived a passing fancy. He 
 had meant to marry her, perhaps within a few 
 days. There was in her face the high stamp of 
 innocence, and her voice rang fearless and true. 
 Ferdinando had never been like his brothers. He 
 had meant to marry this girl, doubtless a small 
 farmer's daughter, from her dress; and he would 
 have lived happily with her, sinking, perhaps, to 
 a low(,r social level, but morally rising far higher 
 than his scheming brothers. Orsino had guessed 
 from his dead face, and from what he had heard, 
 that Ferdinando had been the best of the family ; 
 and in a semi-barbarous country like the interior 
 of Sicily, the young Roman did not blame him 
 overmuch for having tried to resist the new owners 
 of his father's house when they came to take 
 possession. 
 
 San Giacinto and the sergeant objected on prin- 
 ciple to admitting the girl, but Orsino insisted, and 
 at last opened the gate himself. She had covered 
 her head and face again, and followed him swiftly
 
 206 COELEONE 
 
 and noiselessly across the court to the door of the 
 church. As though by instinct she turned directly 
 to her lover's body, where it lay before the side 
 altar, and with a low wail like a wounded animal, 
 she fell beside it, with clasped hands. Orsino left 
 her there alone, closing the door softly, and came 
 out into the court, where it was almost broad day- 
 light. The men had drunk their coffee and were 
 grooming their black chargers tethered to rusty 
 rings in the wall. The old stables were between 
 the court and the rampart. The two foot-cara- 
 bineers were despatched to Santa Vittoria to get a 
 coffin for the dead man and a priest to come and 
 bury him. 
 
 From the church came every now and then the 
 piteous echo of the girl's lamentations. Then 
 there was a knocking at the gate, and someone 
 called from without. One of the troopers looked 
 out through the narrow slit in the stone, made 
 just wide enough to let the barrel of a gun pass. 
 Half a dozen peasants were outside, and the sol- 
 diers could see two more coming down the drive 
 towards the house. He asked what they wanted. 
 
 " We wish to speak with the master," said one, 
 and two or three repeated the words. 
 
 They were the men who had brought the tools 
 on the previous evening, with a number of others, 
 the small tenants of the little estate. San Giacinto 
 went and spoke with them, assuring them that he
 
 COELEONE 207 
 
 would be a better landlord than they had ever had, 
 if they would treat him well, but that if he met 
 with any treachery, he would send every man of 
 them to the galleys for life. It was his Avay of 
 making acquaintance, and they seemed to under- 
 stand it. 
 
 While he was speaking a number of men and 
 women appeared in the drive, headed by the two 
 soldiers who had gone to the village. Close behind 
 them, swaying with the walk of the woman who 
 carried the load upon her head, a white deal coffin 
 caught the morning light. Then more people, 
 and always more, came in sight, up the drive. 
 Amongst them walked a young priest in his short 
 white 'cotta' over his shabby cassock, and beside 
 him came a big boy bearing a silver basin with 
 holy water, and the little broom for sprinkling it. 
 The two trudged along in a business-like way, and 
 all the people were talking loudly. It seemed to 
 San Giacinto that half the population of the vil- 
 lage must have turned out. He stepped back and 
 called to the troopers to keep the gate, and prevent 
 the crowd from entering. Then he waited outside. 
 The people became silent as they came near, and 
 he looked at them, scrutinizing their faces. Some 
 of the men had their guns slung over their shoul- 
 ders, but many were only labourers and had none. 
 
 Many scowling glances were turned on San 
 Giacinto as the crowd came up to the gate, and
 
 208 CORLEONE 
 
 he began to anticipate trouble of some sort. The 
 troopers had their rifles in their hands as they 
 formed up behind him. The tenants of Camaldoli 
 mixed with the crowd, evidently not wishing to 
 identify themselves with their new landlord. 
 
 "What do you want ? " asked San Giacinto, in a 
 harsh, commanding voice. 
 
 The priest came close to him, and bowed and 
 smiled, as though the occasion of meeting were a 
 pleasant one. Then he stood aside a little, and 
 a strapping woman who carried the coffin on 
 her head marched in under the gate between the 
 soldiers, who made way for her. And behind her 
 came her husband, a crooked little carpenter, carry- 
 ing a leathern bag from which protruded the worn 
 and blackened handle of a big hammer. The third 
 comer was stopped by the sergeant. He was a 
 ghastly pale old man, with a three-days beard on 
 his pointed chin, and he was dressed in dingy 
 black. 
 
 " Who are you ? " asked the sergeant, sharply. 
 
 " I am one without whom people are not buried," 
 answered the old man, in a cracked voice. " You 
 have a carpenter and a priest, but there is a third 
 I am he, the servant of the dead, who give no 
 orders." 
 
 The sergeant understood that the man was the 
 parish undertaker, and let him pass also. Mean- 
 while San Giacinto repeated his question.
 
 COKLEONE 209 
 
 " What do you all want ? " he asked in a thun- 
 dering tone, for he was annoyed. 
 
 " If it please you, Signer Marchese," said the 
 priest, " these, my parishioners, desire the body of 
 Don Ferdinando Corleone, in order to bury it in 
 holy ground, for he was beloved of many. Pray 
 do not be angry, Excellency, for they come in peace, 
 having heard that Don Ferdinando had been killed 
 by an accident. Grant their request, which is a 
 proper one, and they shall depart quickly. I answer 
 for them." 
 
 As he spoke the last words in a tone which all 
 could hear, he turned to the crowd, as though for 
 their assent. 
 
 " He answers for us," said many of them, in a 
 breath. " Good, Don Niccola ! You answer for 
 us. We are Christians. We wish to bury Don 
 Ferdinando properly." 
 
 "I have not the slightest objection," said San 
 Giacinto. "On the contrary, I respect your wish, 
 and I only regret that I have not the means of 
 doing more honour to your friend. You must at- 
 tend to that. Be kind enough to wait here while 
 the priest blesses the body." 
 
 The priest and the boy with the holy water 
 passed in, and the gate closed upon the crowd. 
 While they had been talking, the carpenter and 
 his wife had entered the court. Basili's man led 
 them to the door of the church and opened it. The 
 
 VOL. 1. P
 
 210 CORLEONE 
 
 woman marched in with her swinging stride, and 
 one hand on her hips, while the other steadied the 
 deal coffin. 
 
 " Where is he ? " she asked in a loud, good- 
 natured .voice, for the church seemed very dark 
 after the morning light outside. 
 
 She was answered by a low cry from the steps of 
 the side altar, where the unhappy girl lay half 
 across her lover's body, looking round towards the 
 door, in a new horror. 
 
 The woman uttered an exclamation of surprise, 
 and then slowly swung her burden round so that 
 she could see her husband. 
 
 " Help me, Ciccio," she said, in a matter-of- 
 fact way. " They are always inconvenient things." 
 
 The man held up his hands and took the foot, 
 while his wife raised her hands also and shifted 
 the weight towards him little by little, until she 
 got hold of the head. The loose lid rattled as they 
 set the thing down on the floor. Then the woman 
 took the rolled towel on which she had carried the 
 weight, from her head, undid it, wiped her brow 
 with it, and looked at the girl in some perplexity. 
 
 " It is the apothecary's Concetta," she said, sud- 
 denly recognizing the white features in the gloom. 
 " Oh, poor child ! Poor child ! " she cried, going 
 forward quickly, while her husband took the lid 
 from the coffin and began to fumble in his leathern 
 bag for his nails.
 
 COBLEONE 211 
 
 As the woman approached the step, Concetta 
 threw her arms wildly over her head, stiffened her 
 limbs straight out, and rolled over and over upon 
 the damp pavement, in one of those strange fainting 
 fits which sometimes seize women in moments of 
 intense grief. The carpenter's wife tried to lift 
 her, and to bend her arms, so as to get hold of 
 her; but the girl was as rigid as though she were 
 in a cataleptic trance. 
 
 " Poor child ! Poor Concetta ! " exclaimed the 
 carpenter's wife, softly. 
 
 Then, bending her broad back, she raised the 
 girl up by main strength, getting first one arm 
 round her and then the other, till she got her 
 weight up and could carry her. Her crooked little 
 husband paid no attention to her. Women were 
 women's business at such times. The big woman 
 got the girl out into the morning sunshine in the 
 court, meeting the eccentric undertaker and the 
 priest, who were talking together outside. San 
 Giacinto came forward instantly, followed by Or- 
 siuo, who had been wandering about the rampart 
 over the river* when the crowd had come. San 
 Giacinto took the unconscious girl's body from 
 the woman, with ease. 
 
 "Come," he said, carrying her before him on 
 his arms. "Get some water." 
 
 He entered the room where the men had slept 
 on some straw and laid Concetta down, her arms
 
 212 COBLEONE 
 
 still stiffened above her head. One of the troopers 
 brought water in a pannikin. San Giacinto dashed 
 the cold drops upon the white face, and the feat- 
 ures quivered nervously. 
 
 ''Take care of her," he said to the woman. 
 "Who is she?" 
 
 " She is Concetta, the daughter of Don Atanasio, 
 the apothecary. She was to marry Don Ferdi- 
 nando next week. But now that they have killed 
 him, she will marry someone else." 
 
 " Poor girl ! " exclaimed San Giacinto, compas- 
 sionately, and he turned and went out. 
 
 Orsino was standing by the door, looking in, and 
 he had heard what the woman had said. It con- 
 firmed what he had guessed from the girl's own 
 words. He wondered how it was possible that the 
 action of one second could really cause such terrible 
 trouble in the world. 
 
 From the open door of the church came the 
 sound of the regular blows of a hammer. The 
 work had been quickly done, and the carpenter 
 was nailing down the lid of the coffin. The priest, 
 who had stayed in the early sunshine for warmth, 
 hung a shabby little stole round his neck, and took 
 the holy water basin and the little broom from the 
 boy, and entered the church to bless the body be- 
 fore it was taken away. 
 
 As it was not advisable to let in the crowd, the 
 six soldiers lifted the coffin and bore it out of the
 
 CORLEONE 213 
 
 gate. Then the peasants laid it on a bier which 
 had been brought after them and covered it with 
 a rusty black pall. The priest walked before it, 
 and began to recite the psalms for the dead. The 
 women covered their heads, and some of the men 
 uncovered theirs, and a few joined in the priest's 
 monotonous recitations. A quarter of an hour 
 later, San Giacinto, watching from the gate, saw 
 the last of the people disappear up the drive. 
 But the carpenter's wife had stayed with Concetta. 
 "It is a bad business," said the old giant to 
 himself, as he turned and went in.
 
 THE taking possession of Camaldoli had turned 
 out much more difficult and dangerous than even 
 San Giacinto had anticipated, for the catastrophe 
 of Ferdinando Pagliuca's death had at once aroused 
 the anger and revengeful resentment of the whole 
 neighbourhood. He made up his mind that it 
 would be necessary for himself or Orsino to return 
 to Rome at once, both in order to see the Minister 
 of the Interior, with a view to obtaining special 
 protection from the government, and to see the 
 Pagliuca family, in the hope of pacifying them. 
 
 The latter mission would not be an easy nor an 
 agreeable one, and San Giacinto would gladly have 
 undertaken it himself. On the other hand, he did 
 not trust Orsino's wisdom in managing matters 
 in Sicily. The young man was courageous and 
 determined, but he had not the knowledge of 
 the southern character which was indispensable. 
 Moreover, he was not the real owner of the lands, 
 and would not feel that he had authority to act 
 independently in all cases. It was, therefore, de- 
 cided that Orsino should go back to Kome at 
 214
 
 CORLEONE 215 
 
 once, while San Giacinto remained at Camaldoli 
 to get matters into a better shape. 
 
 It was a dreary journey for Orsino. He tele- 
 graphed that he was coming, found that there was 
 no steamer from Messina, crossed to Reggio, and 
 travelled all night and all the next day by the 
 railway, reaching Rome at night, jaded and worn. 
 
 He found, as he had expected, that all Rome 
 was talking of his adventure with the brigands, 
 and of the death of Ferdinando Pagliuca, and of 
 the probable consequences. But he learned to his 
 surprise how Tebaldo had been heard to say at 
 the club on the previous afternoon that Ferdinando 
 was no relation of his, and that it was a mere 
 coincidence of names. 
 
 "Nevertheless," said Sant' Ilario, "we all believe 
 that you have killed his brother. Tebaldo Pa- 
 gliuca has no mind to have it said that his brother 
 was a brigand and died like a dog. He says he 
 is not in Sicily, but left some time ago. As no 
 one in Rome ever saw him, most people will 
 accept the statement for the girl's sake, if not 
 for the rest of the family." 
 
 Orsino looked "down thoughtfully while his father 
 Was speaking. He understood at once that the 
 story being passably discreditable to the d'Oriani, 
 he had better seem to fall in with their view of 
 the case, by holding his peace when he could. 
 His father and mother, as well as the old Prince,
 
 216 COR LEONE 
 
 insisted upon hearing a detailed account of the 
 affair in the woods, however, and he was obliged 
 to tell them all that had happened, though he said 
 nothing about the fancied resemblance of Ferdi- 
 nando to Vittoria, and as little as possible about 
 the way in which the people had carried off the 
 man's body with a public demonstration of sorrow. 
 After all, 110 one had told him that Ferdinando 
 was the brother of Tebaldo. He had taken it for 
 granted, and it was barely possible that he might 
 have been mistaken. 
 
 " There may be others of the name," he said, as 
 he concluded his story. 
 
 His mother looked at him keenly. Half an hour 
 later he was alone with her in her own sitting-room. 
 
 " Why did you say that there might be others of 
 the name ? " she asked gravely. " Why did you 
 wish -to imply that the unfortunate man may not 
 have been the brother of Don Tebaldo and Donna 
 Vittoria ? " 
 
 Orsino was silent for a moment. There was re- 
 proach in Corona's tone, for she herself had not 
 the slightest doubt in the matter. He came and 
 stood before her, for he was a truthful man. 
 
 "It seemed to me," he said, "that I might let 
 him have the benefit of any doubt there may be, 
 though I have none myself. The story will be a 
 terrible injury to the family." 
 
 " You are certainly not called upon to tell it to
 
 COBLEONE 217 
 
 everyone," said Corona. " I only wished to know 
 what you really thought." 
 
 " I am sorry to say that I feel sure of the man's 
 identity, mother. And I want you to help me," 
 ' he added suddenly. " I wish to see Donna Vittoria 
 alone. You can manage it." 
 
 Corona did not answer at once, but looked long 
 and earnestly at her eldest son. 
 
 " What is it, mother ? " he asked, at last. 
 
 "It is a very terrible thing," she answered 
 slowly. " You love the girl, you wish to marry 
 her, and you have killed her brother. Is not that 
 the truth? " 
 
 "Yes, that is the truth," said Orsino. "Help 
 me to see her. No one else can." 
 
 " Does anyone know ? Did you speak about it 
 to her mother, or her brothers, before you left? 
 Does Ippolito know ? " 
 
 " No one knows. Will you help me, mother ? " 
 
 " I will do my best," said Corona, thoughtfully. 
 " Not that I wish you to marry into that family," 
 she added. " They have a bad name." 
 
 " But she is not like them. It is not her fault." 
 
 "No, it is not her fault, and she has not their 
 faults. But for her brothers well, we need not 
 talk of that. For the sake of what there has been 
 between you two, already, you have a sort of right 
 to see Vittoria." 
 
 " I must see her."
 
 21 8 CORLEONE 
 
 " I went there yesterday, after we read the news 
 in the papers," said Corona. "Her mother was 
 ill. Later your father came in and said he had 
 seen Don Tebaldo at the club. You heard what he 
 said. They mean to deny the relationship. -In 
 fact, they have done so. I can therefore propose 
 to take Vittoria to drive to-morrow afternoon, and I ' 
 can bring her here to tea, in my own sitting-room. 
 Then you may come here and see her, and I will 
 leave you alone for a little while. Yes you have 
 a right to see her and to defend yourself to her, 
 and explain to her how you killed that poor man, 
 not knowing who he was." 
 
 " Thank you you are very good to me. Mother 
 " he hesitated a moment " if my father had 
 killed your brother by accident, would you have 
 married him ? " 
 
 He fixed his eyes on Corona's. She was silent 
 for a moment. 
 
 "Yes," she answered presently. "'The love of 
 an honest woman for an honest man can go farther 
 than that." 
 
 She turned her beautiful face from Orsino as she 
 spoke, and her splendid eyes grew dreamy and soft, 
 as she leaned back in her chair beside her writing- 
 table. He watched her, and a wave of hope rose 
 slowly to his heart. But all women were not like 
 his mother. 
 
 Early on the following morning she wrote a note
 
 COR LEONE 219 
 
 to Vittoria. The answer came back after a long 
 time, and the man sent up word that he had been 
 kept waiting three-quarters of an hour for it. It 
 was written in a tremulous hand, and badly worded, 
 but it said that Vittoria would be ready at the ap- 
 pointed time. Her mother, she added, was ill, but 
 wished her to accept the Princess's invitation. 
 
 Vittoria had grown thin and pale, and there was 
 a sort of haunted look in her young eyes as she sat 
 beside Corona in the big carriage. Corona herself 
 hesitated as to what she should say, for the girl 
 was evidently in a condition to faint, or break 
 down with tears, at any sudden shock. Yet it was 
 necessary to tell her that Orsino was waiting for 
 her, and it might be necessary also to use some 
 persuasion in inducing her to meet him. 
 
 " My dear," said Corona, after a little while, " I 
 want you to come home with me when we have 
 had a little drive. Do you mind ? We will have 
 tea together in my little room." 
 
 " Yes of course I should like it very much," 
 answered Vittoria. 
 
 " We shall not be quite alone," Corona continued. 
 "I hope you will not mind." 
 
 Corona Saracinesca had many good qualities, but 
 she was not remarkably clever, and when she 
 wished to be tactful she often found herself in 
 conflict with the singular dii-ectness of her own 
 character. At the same time, she feared to let the
 
 220 COBLEONE 
 
 girl at her side see liow much she knew. Yittoria 
 looked so pale and nervous that she might faint. 
 Corona had never fainted. The girl naturally sup- 
 posed that Orsino was still in Sicily. 
 
 They were near the Porta Salaria, and there was 
 a long stretch of lonely road between high walls, 
 just beyond it. Corona waited till they had passed 
 the gate. 
 
 "My dear," she began again, taking Vittoria's 
 hand kindly, "do not be surprised at what I am 
 going to tell you. My son Orsino " 
 
 Vittoria started, and her hand shook in her com- 
 panion's hold. 
 
 " Yes my son Orsino has come back unexpect- 
 edly and wishes very much to see you." 
 
 Vittoria leaned back suddenly and closed her 
 eyes. Corona thought that the fainting fit had 
 certainly come, and tried to put her arm round the 
 slight young figure. But as she looked into Vitto- 
 ria's face, she saw that the soft colour was suddenly 
 blushing in her cheeks. In a moment her eyes 
 opened again, and there was light in them for a 
 moment. 
 
 " I did not know how you would take it," said 
 Corona, simply, " but I see that you are glad." 
 
 " For him that he is safe," answered the young 
 girl, in a low voice. "But " 
 
 She stopped, and gradually the colour sank away 
 from her face again, and her eyes grew heavy
 
 CORLEONE 221 
 
 once more. The trouble was greater than the glad- 
 ness. 
 
 " Will you see him, in my own room ? " asked 
 the elder woman, after a pause. 
 
 "Oh, yes yes! Indeed I will I must see 
 him. How kind you are ! " 
 
 Corona leaned forward and spoke to the footman 
 at once, and the carriage turned back towards the 
 city. She knew well enough how desperately hard 
 it would be for Yittoria to wait for the meeting. 
 She knew also, not by instinct of tact, but by a 
 woman's inborn charity, that it would be kind of 
 her to speak of other things, now that she had said 
 what was necessary, and not to force upon Vittoria 
 the fact that Orsino had revealed his secret, still 
 less to ask her any questions about her true rela- 
 tionship to Ferdinando Pagliuca, which might put 
 her in the awkward position of contradicting 
 Tebaldo's public statement. But as they swept 
 down the crowded streets, amongst the many car- 
 riages, Vittoria looked round into Corona's face 
 almost shyly, for she was very grateful. 
 
 " How good you. are to me ! " she exclaimed 
 softly. "I shall not forget it." 
 
 Corona smiled, but said nothing, and ten minutes 
 later the carriage thundered under the archway of 
 the gate. Corona took Yittoria through the state 
 apartments, where they were sure of meeting no 
 one at that time, and into her bedroom by a door
 
 222 COR LEONE 
 
 she seldom used. Then she pointed to another at 
 the other side. 
 
 " That is the way to my sitting-room, my dear," 
 she said. " Orsino is there alone." 
 
 With a sudden impulse, she kissed her on* both 
 cheeks and pushed her towards the door.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 ORSIXO heard the door of his mother's bedroom 
 open, and rose to his feet, expecting to see Corona. 
 He started as Vittoria entered, and he touched the 
 writing-table with his hand as though he were 
 unsteady. The young girl came forward towards 
 him quickly, and the colour rose visibly in her face 
 while she crossed the little room. Orsino was 
 white and did not hold out his hand, not knowing 
 what to expect, for it was the hand that had killed 
 her brother but two days ago. 
 
 Vittoria had not thought of what she should do 
 or say, for it had been impossible to think. But 
 as she came near, both her hands went out in- 
 stinctively, to 'touch him. Almost instinctively, 
 too, he drew back from her touch a little. But 
 she did not see the movement, and her eyes 
 sought his, as s4ie laid her fingers lightly upon 
 his shoulders and looked up to him. Then the 
 sadness in his face, that had been almost like fear 
 of her, relaxed toward a change, and his eyes 
 opened wide in a sort of hesitating surprise. Two 
 words, low and earnest, trembled upon Vittoria's 
 lips. 
 
 223
 
 224 COELEONE 
 
 " Thank God ! " 
 
 In an instant he knew that she loved him in 
 spite of all. Yet, arguing against his senses that it 
 was impossible, he would not take her at her word. 
 He took both her hands from his shoulders and 
 held them, so that they crossed. 
 
 " Was he really your brother ?" he asked slowly. 
 
 " Yes," she answered faintly, and looked down. 
 
 Perhaps it seemed to her that she should be 
 ashamed of forgiving, before he had said one word 
 of defence or uttered one expression of sorrow for 
 what he had done. But she loved him, and since 
 she had been a little child she had not seen her 
 brother Ferdinando half a dozen times. It was 
 true that when she had seen him she had been 
 drawn to him, as she was not drawn to the two that 
 were left, for he had not been like the others. She 
 knew that she should have trusted Ferdinando if 
 she had known him better. 
 
 Orsino began his defence. 
 
 " We were fired upon several times," he said. 
 Her hands started in his, as she thought of his dan- 
 ger. "I saw a man's coat moving m the brush," 
 he continued, " and I aimed at it. I never saw the 
 man's face till we found him lying dead. It was 
 not an accident, for bullets cut the trees overhead 
 and struck the carriage." Again her hands quiv- 
 ered. "It was a fight, and I meant to kill the 
 man. But I could not see his face."
 
 COELEONE 225 
 
 She did not speak for a moment. Then, for the 
 first time, she shrank a little, and withdrew her 
 hands from his. 
 
 " I know yes it is terrible," she said in 
 broken tones ; and she glanced at him, and looked 
 down again. " Do not speak of it," she added sud- 
 denly, and she was surprised at her own words. 
 
 It was the woman's impulse to dissociate the 
 man she loved from the deed, for which she could 
 not but feel horror. She would have given the 
 world to sit down beside him and talk of other 
 things. But he wished the situation to be cleared 
 for ever, as any courageous man would. 
 
 " I must speak of it," he answered. " Perhaps 
 we shall never have the chance again " 
 
 " Never ? What do you mean ? " she asked 
 quickly. " Why not ? " 
 
 " You may forgive me," he answered earnestly. 
 " You know that I would have let him shoot me 
 ten times over rather than have hurt you 
 
 " Orsino " She touched his arm nervously, 
 trying to stop him. 
 
 " Yes I wish- 1 were in his grave to-day! You 
 may forgive, but you cannot forget how can 
 you ? " 
 
 " How ? If if you still love me, I can forget " 
 
 Orsino's eyes were suddenly moist. It seemed as 
 though something broke, and let in the light. 
 
 " I shall always love you," he said simply ; as 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 CORLEONE 
 
 men sometimes do when they are very much in 
 earnest. 
 
 "And I " 
 
 She did not finish the sentence in words, but her 
 hand and face said the rest. 
 
 " Sit down," she said, after a little silence. 
 
 They went to a little sofa and sat down together, 
 opposite the window. 
 
 " Do you think that anything you could do could 
 make me not love you ? " she asked, looking into 
 his face. " Are you surprised ? Did you think 
 that I should turn upon you and accuse you of my 
 brother's death, and say that I hated you? You 
 should not have judged me so it was un- 
 kind ! " 
 
 " It has all been so horrible that I did not know 
 what to expect," he said. " I have not been able 
 to think sensibly until now. And even now no, 
 I have not judged you, as you call it, dear. But I 
 expected that you would judge me, as God knows 
 you have the right." 
 
 "Why should I judge you?" asked Vittoria, 
 softly and lovingly. " If you liad lain in wait for 
 him and killed him treacherously, as he meant to 
 kill you, it would have been different. If he had 
 killed you, as he was there to kill you as he 
 might have killed you if you had not been first 
 I well, I am only a. girl, but even these little 
 hands would have had some strength ! But as it
 
 CORLEONE 227 
 
 is, God willed it. Whom shall I judge? God? 
 That would be wrong. God protected you, and 
 my brother died in his treachery. Do you think 
 that if I had been there, and had been a man, and 
 the guns firing, and the bullets flying, I should not 
 have done as you did, and shot my own brother ? 
 It would have been much more horrible even than 
 it is, but of course I should have done" it. Then 
 why are you in such distress ? Why did you think 
 that I should not love you any more ? " 
 
 " I did not dare to think it," answered Orsino. 
 
 "You see, as I said, God willed it not you. 
 You were but the instrument, unconscious and 
 innocent. It is only a little child that will strike 
 the senseless thing that hurts it." 
 
 " You are eloquent, darling. You will make me 
 think as you do." 
 
 "I wish you would, indeed I wish you would! 
 I am sorry, I am grieved, I shall mourn poor Ferdi- 
 nando, though I scarcely knew him. But you 
 I shall love you always, and for me, as I see it, you 
 were no more the willing cause of his death than 
 the senseless gun, you held in your hand. Do you 
 believe me ? " 
 
 She took his hand again, as though to feel that 
 he understood. And understanding, he drew her 
 close to him and kissed her young eyes, as he had 
 done that first time, out on the bridge over the 
 street.
 
 228 COELEONE 
 
 " You have my life," he said tenderly. " I give 
 you my life and soul, dear." 
 
 She put up her face suddenly, and kissed his 
 cheek, and instantly the colour filled her own, and 
 she shrank back, and spoke in a different tone. 
 
 "We will put away that dreadful thing," she 
 said, drawing a little towards her own end of the 
 sofa. "We will never speak of it again, for you 
 understand." 
 
 "But your mother, your brothers," answered 
 Orsino. "What of them? I hear that they do 
 not acknowledge " he stopped, puzzled as to how 
 he should speak. 
 
 "My mother is ill with grief, for Ferdinando 
 was her favourite. But Tebaldo and Francesco 
 have determined that they will act as though he 
 were no relation of ours. They say that it would 
 ruin us all to have it said that our brother had 
 been with the brigands. That is true, is it not ? " 
 
 "It would be a great injury to you," answered 
 Orsino. 
 
 "Yes. That is what they say. And Tebaldo 
 will not let us wear mourning, for fear that people 
 should not believe what he says. This morning 
 when the Princess's note came, Tebaldo insisted 
 that I should accept, but my mother said that I 
 should not come to the house. They had a long 
 discussion, and she submitted at last. What can 
 she do ? He rules everybody and he is bad, bad
 
 COELEONE 229 
 
 in his heart, bad in his soul ! Francesco is only 
 weak, but Tebaldo is bad. Beware of him, for 
 though he says that Ferdinando was not his brother, 
 he will not forgive you. But you will not go back 
 to Sicily ? " 
 
 "Yes, I must go. I cannot leave San Giacinto 
 alone, since I have created so much trouble." 
 
 "Since poor Ferdinando is dead, you will be 
 safer I mean " she hesitated. " Orsino ! " she 
 suddenly exclaimed, " I knew that he would try to 
 kill you that is why I wanted to keep you here. 
 I did not dare tell you but I begged so hard I 
 thought that for my sake, perhaps, you would not 
 go. Tebaldo would kill me if he knew that I were 
 telling you the truth now. He knew that Ferdi- 
 nando had friends among the outlaAvs, and that 
 he sometimes lived with them for weeks. And 
 Ferdinando wrote to Tebaldo, and warned him that 
 although he had signed the deed, no one should 
 ever enter the gate of Camaldoli while he was 
 alive. And no one did, for he died. But the 
 Romans would think that he was a common brig- 
 and; and I suppose that Tebaldo is right, for it 
 would injure us very much. But between you and 
 me there must be nothing but the truth, so I have 
 told you all. And now beware of Tebaldo ; for, 
 in spite of what he says, he will some day try to 
 avenge his brother." 
 
 "I understand it all much better now," said
 
 230 COBLEONE 
 
 Orsino, thoughtfully. "I am glad you have told 
 me. But the question is, whether your mother 
 and your brothers will ever consent to our mar- 
 riage, Vittoria. That is what I want to know." 
 
 "My mother never! Tebaldo might, for inter- 
 est. He is very scheming. But my mother will 
 never consent. She will never see you again, if 
 she can help it." 
 
 " What are we to do ? " asked Orsino, speaking 
 rather to himself than to Vittoria. 
 
 "I do not know," she answered, in a tone of 
 perplexity. " We must wait, I suppose. Perhaps 
 she will change, and see it all differently. We 
 can afford to wait we are young. We love each 
 other, and we can meet. Is it so hard to wait 
 awhile before being married ? " 
 
 "Yes," said Orsino. "It is hard to wait for 
 you." 
 
 " I will do anything you like," answered Vittoria. 
 "Only wait a little while, and see whether my 
 mother does not change. Only a little while ! " 
 
 " We must, I suppose," said Orsino, reluctantly. 
 "But I do not see why your mother should not 
 always think of me as she does to-day. I can do 
 nothing to improve matters." 
 
 "Let us be satisfied with to-day," replied Vit- 
 toria, rather anxiously, and as though to break off 
 the conversation. " I was miserably unhappy this 
 evening, and I thought you were in Sicily; and
 
 COELEONE 231 
 
 instead, we have met. It is enough for one day 
 it is a thousand times more than I had hoped." 
 
 " Or I," said Orsino, bending down and kissing 
 her hand more than once. 
 
 The handle of Corona's door turned very audibly 
 just then, and a moment later the Princess entered 
 the room. Without seeming to scrutinize the faces 
 of the two, she iinderstood at a glance that Vittoria 
 had accepted the tragic situation, as she herself 
 would have done ; and that if there had been any 
 discussion, it was over. 
 
 Vittoria coloured a little, when she met Corona's 
 eyes, realizing how the older woman had, as it 
 were, arranged a lovers' meeting for her. But 
 Corona herself did not know whether to be glad 
 or sorry for what had happened. 
 
 Nor was it easy for anyone to foresee the conse- 
 quences of the present situation. It was only too 
 clear that the young people loved each other with 
 all their hearts ; and Corona herself was very fond 
 of Vittoria, and believed her to be quite unlike her 
 family. Yet at best she was an exception in a 
 race that had a bad name ; and Corona knew how 
 her husband and his father would oppose the mar- 
 riage, even though she herself should consent to 
 it. She guessed, too, that Vittoria's mother would 
 refuse to hear of it. Altogether Orsino had fallen 
 in love very unfortunately, and Corona could see 
 no possible happy termination to the affair.
 
 232 COIiLEONE 
 
 Therefore, against her own nature and her affec- 
 tion for her son, she was conscious of a certain 
 disappointment when she saw that the love be- 
 tween the two was undirainished, even by the ter- 
 rible catastrophe of Ferdinando's death. It Avould 
 have been so much simpler if Vittoria had bidden 
 goodbye for ever to the man who had killed her 
 brother.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 SARACINESCA was, perhaps, of all the 
 household the most glad to see his favourite 
 brother at home again so soon. He missed the 
 companionship which had always been a large 
 element in his life. 
 
 "I shall go with you when you return," he 
 said, sitting on the edge of Orsino's table, and 
 swinging his priestly legs in an undignified 
 fashion. 
 
 " Are you in earnest ? " asked Orsino, with a 
 laugh. 
 
 "Yes. Why not? You say that there is a 
 church on the place, or a chapel. I will say mass 
 there for the household on Sundays, and keep you 
 company on week-days. You will be .lonely when 
 San Giacinto comes back. Besides, after what 
 has happened, I hate to think that you are down 
 there alone among strangers." 
 
 " Have you nothing to keep you in Rome ? " 
 asked Orsino, much tempted by the offer. 
 
 "Nothing in the world." 
 
 "There will be no piano at Camaldoli." 
 233
 
 234 COELEONE 
 
 "I suppose there is an organ in your church, 
 is there not ? " 
 
 "No. There is probably one in the church of 
 Santa Vittoria. You could go and play on it." 
 
 "How far is it?" 
 
 "Three-quarters of a mile, I was told." 
 
 "As far as from the Piazza di Venezia to the 
 Piazza del Popolo." 
 
 "Less. That is a mile, they always used to 
 say, when the loose horses ran the race in 
 carnival." 
 
 "It would be just a pleasant walk, then," said 
 Ippolito, already planning his future occupations 
 at Camaldoli. " I could go over in the afternoon, 
 when the church is closed, and play on the organ 
 an hour or two whenever I pleased." 
 
 "I have no idea what sort of thing the Santa 
 Vittoria organ will turn out to be," answered 
 Orsino. "It is probably falling to pieces, and 
 has not been tuned since the beginning of the 
 century." 
 
 "I will mend it and tune it," said Ippolito, 
 confidently. 
 
 " You ? " Orsino looked at his brother's deli- 
 cate hands and laughed. 
 
 " Of course. Every musician knows something 
 about the instruments he plays. I know how an 
 organ is tuned, and I understand the mechanism. 
 The old-fashioned ones are simple things enough.
 
 CORLEONE 235 
 
 When a note goes wrong you can generally mend 
 the tracker with a bit of wire, or a stick, as the 
 case may be or if it is the wind chest " 
 
 "It is not of the slightest use to talk to me 
 about that sort of thing," interrupted Orsino, "for 
 I understand nothing about organs, nor about 
 music either, for that matter." 
 
 " I will take some tools with me, and some kid, 
 and a supply of fine glue," said Ippolito, still full 
 of his idea. " How about the rooms ? Is there 
 any decent f urniture ? " 
 
 Orsino gave him a general idea of the state of 
 Camaldoli, not calculated to encourage him in his 
 intention, but the young priest was both very fond 
 of his brother, and he was in love with the novelty 
 of his idea. 
 
 " I daresay that they have not too many priests 
 in that part of the country, " he said. " I may be 
 of some use." 
 
 " "We got one without difficulty to bury that poor 
 man," answered Orsino. "But you may be right. 
 You may be the means of redeeming Sicily." He 
 laughed. 
 
 He was, indeed, inclined to laugh rather unex- 
 pectedly, since his interview with Vittoria. He 
 was far too manly and strong to be saddened for 
 any length of time by the fact of having taken 
 the life of a man who had, undoubtedly, attempted 
 to murder him. by stealth. He had been op-
 
 236 COELEONE 
 
 pressed by the certainty that the deed had raised 
 an insurmountable barrier between Vittoria and 
 himself. Since he had found that he had been 
 mistaken, he was frankly glad that he had killed 
 Ferdinando Pagliuca, for the very plain reason 
 that if he had not done so, Ferdinando Pagliuca 
 would have certainly killed him, or San Giacinto, 
 or both. He had no more mawkish sentiment 
 about the horror of shedding human blood than 
 had embarrassed his own forefathers in wilder 
 times. If men turned brigands and dug pitfalls, 
 and tried to murder honest folk by treachery, they 
 deserved to be killed ; and though the first impres- 
 sion he had received, when he had been sure that 
 he had killed his man, had been painful, because 
 he was young and inexperienced in actual fighting, 
 he now realized that but for the relationship of 
 the dead man, it had been not only excusable, but 
 wise, to shoot him like a wild beast. His own 
 people thought so too. 
 
 It was natural, therefore, that his spirits should 
 rise after his interview with Vittoria. On that 
 day he had already been busy in carrying out San 
 Giacinto's directions, and on the following morn- 
 ing he went to work with increased energy. 
 
 Corona watched him when they met, and the 
 presentiment of evil which had seized her when 
 he had first spoken of going to Sicily became 
 more oppressive. She told herself that the worst
 
 CQRLEONE 237 
 
 had happened which could happen, but she 
 answered herself with old tales of Sicilian re- 
 venge after long-nourished hatred. She was 
 shocked when Ippolito announced his intention 
 of accompanying his brother. Ippolito was al- 
 most indispensable to her. The old Prince used 
 to tell her that her priest son answered the pur- 
 pose of a daughter with none of the latter's dis- 
 advantages, at which Ippolito himself was the 
 first to laugh good-naturedly, being well aware 
 that he had as good stuff in him as his rough-cast 
 brothers. But Corona really loved Mm more as 
 a daughter than a son, and because he was less 
 strong than the others, she was not so easily per- 
 suaded that he was safe when he was away from 
 her, and she half resented the old gentleman's 
 jest. She especially dreaded anything like physi- 
 cal exposure or physical danger for him. She was 
 a brave and strong woman in almost every way, 
 and would have sent her other three sons out to 
 fight for their country or their honour without 
 fear or hesitation. But Ippolito was different. 
 Orsino might face the brigands if he chose. She 
 could be momentarily anxious about him, but the 
 belief prevailed with her that he could help him- 
 self and would come back safe and sound. One 
 of the reasons, an unacknowledged one, why she 
 had been so ready to let Ippolito follow his incli- 
 nation for the church, was that priests are leas
 
 238 COB LEONE 
 
 exposed to all sorts of danger than other men. 
 San Giacinto's Sicilian schemes suddenly seemed 
 to her quite mad since Ippolito wished to accom- 
 pany his brother and share in any danger which 
 might present itself. 
 
 But Ippolito was one of those gently obstinate 
 persons whom it is hard to move and almost 
 impossible to stop when they are moving. He 
 had made up his mind that he would go to Carnal - 
 doli, and he met his mother's objections with 
 gentle but quite unanswerable arguments. 
 
 Had there ever been an instance of a priest 
 being attacked by brigands ? Corona was obliged 
 to admit that she could remember none. Was 
 he, Ippolito, accomplishing anything in the 
 world, so long as he stayed quietly in Rome? 
 Might he not do some good in the half-civilized 
 country about Carnal doli and Santa Vittoria? 
 He could at least try, and would. There was 
 no answer to this either. Was not Orsino, who 
 was melancholic by nature, sure to be wretchedly 
 lonely down there after San Giacinto left ? This 
 was undoubtedly true. 
 
 "But the malaria," Corona objected at last. 
 "There is the fever there, all summer, I am sure. 
 You are not so strong as Orsino. You will catch 
 it." 
 
 "I am much stronger than anybody supposes," 
 answered Ippolito. " And if I were not, it is not
 
 COELEONE 239 
 
 always the strong people that escape the fever. 
 Besides, there can be none before June or July, 
 and Orsino does not expect 1:6 stay all summer." 
 
 He had his way, of course, and made his prep- 
 arations. Orsino was glad for his own sake, and 
 he also believed that the change of existence 
 would do his brother good. He himself was not 
 present when these discussions took place. Ippo- 
 lito told him about them. 
 
 Orsino wished to see Vittoria again before leav- 
 ing Koine, but Corona refused to help him any 
 further. 
 
 "I cannot," she said. "You had a right to see 
 her that once. At least, I thought so. It seemed 
 to be a sort of moral right. But I cannot arrange 
 meetings for you. I cannot put myself in such 
 a position towards that family. One may do in 
 a desperate situation what one would absolutely 
 refuse to do every day and in ordinary circum- 
 stances." 
 
 "Going away, not knowing when I may come 
 back, does not strike me as an ordinary circum- 
 stance," said Orsjno, discontentedly. 
 
 " You must see that for me to cheat Vittoria's 
 mother and brothers by bringing her here to see 
 you secretly, is to sacrifice all idea of dignity," 
 answered Corona. 
 
 " I had not looked at it in that light, nor called 
 it by that name."
 
 240 CORLEONE 
 
 "But I had, and I do. I am perfectly frank 
 with you, and I always have been. I like the 
 girl very much, but I do not wish you to marry 
 her, on account of her family. It is one thing to 
 object to a marriage on the score of birth or fort- 
 une. You know that I should not, though I hope 
 you will marry in your own class. Happiness is, 
 perhaps, independent of the details of taste which 
 make up daily life, but it runs on them, as a train 
 runs on rails and if a bad jolting is not unhappi- 
 ness, it is certainly discomfort." 
 
 "You are wise, mother. I never doubted that. 
 But this is different " 
 
 " Very different. That is what I meant to say. 
 There would, perhaps, be no question of that sort 
 of moral discomfort with Vittoria; she has been 
 well brought up in a convent of ladies, like most 
 of the young girls you meet in the world, like me, 
 like all the rest of us. It is different. It is her 
 family they are impossible, not socially, for 
 they are as good as anybody in the way of 
 descent. Bianca Campodonico married Vitto- 
 ria's uncle, and no one thought it a bad match 
 until it turned out badly. But that is just it. 
 They are all people who turn out badly. Tebaldo 
 Pagliuca has the face of a criminal, and his brother 
 makes one think of a satyr. Their mother is a 
 nonentity and does not count. Vittoria is charm- 
 ing. I suppose she is like someone on her mother's
 
 CORLEONE 241 
 
 side, for she has not the smallest resemblance to 
 any of the others. But all the charm in the world 
 will not compensate you for the rest of them. 
 And now you have had the frightful misfortune 
 to kill their brother. Did you never hear of a 
 vendetta ? The southern people are revengeful. 
 The Corleone will never acknowledge to the world 
 that Ferdinando was one of them, but they will 
 not forget it, against you and yours, and your 
 children. I meet those young men in the street, 
 and they bow as though nothing had happened, 
 but I know well enough that if they could destroy 
 every one of us, they would. Can I put myself 
 in the position of cheating such people by bring- 
 ing Vittoria here to see you secretly? It is impos- 
 sible. You must see it yourself." 
 
 "Yes," answered Orsino. "I suppose I must 
 admit it. It would be undignified." 
 
 "Yes, very. The word is not strong enough. 
 You must help yourself. I do not propose any 
 solution of the difficulty. You love the girl. 
 Heaven forbid that I should stand in the way of 
 honest love between honest man and woman. But 
 frankly, I wish that you did not love her, and that 
 she did not love you. And I cannot help you any 
 more, because I will not humiliate myself to 
 deceive people who hate me, and you, and all of 
 us, even to our name." 
 
 " Do you think they do ? Would they not be 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 COR LEONE 
 
 glad to see Vittoria married to me ? After all, I 
 am a great match for a ruined family's only daugh- 
 ter, and if Tebaldo Pagliuca is anything, he is 
 grasping, I am sure." 
 
 " Yes, but he is more revengeful than grasping, 
 and more cunning than revengeful a dangerous 
 enemy. That is why I hate to see Ippolito go 
 with you to the south. Some harm will come to 
 him, I am sure. The Corleone have the whole 
 country with them." 
 
 "I will answer for him," said Orsino, smiling. 
 "Nothing shall happen to him." 
 
 " How can you answer for him? How can you 
 pledge yourself that he shall be safe? It is im- 
 possible. You cannot spend your life in protect- 
 ing him." 
 
 "I can provide people who will," answered the 
 young man. "But you are wrong to be so timid 
 about him. No one ever touches a priest, in the 
 first place, and before he has been there a fort- 
 night, all the people will like him, as everybody 
 always does. It is impossible not to like Ippolito. 
 Besides, Tebaldo Pagliuca has no reason for going 
 to Sicily now that the place is sold. Why in the 
 world should he go? Little by little we shall gain 
 influence there, and before long we shall be much 
 more popular than the Corleone ever were. San 
 Giacinto has written to me already. He says that 
 everything is perfectly quiet already, that was
 
 COBLEONE 243 
 
 twenty-four hours after I left, that he had twenty 
 men from the village at work on the house, making 
 repairs, and that they worked cheerfully and 
 seemed to like his way of doing things. Since 
 Ferdinando is dead there is no one to lead an 
 opposition. They are all very poor and very glad 
 to earn money." 
 
 "It may be as you say," said Corona, only par- 
 tially reassured. "I do not understand the con- 
 dition of life there, of course, and I know that 
 when you promise to answer for Ippolito you are 
 in earnest, and will keep your word. But I am 
 anxious very anxious." 
 
 "I am sorry, mother," replied Orsino. "I am 
 very sorry. But you will soon see that you have 
 no reason to be anxious. That is all I can say. 
 I will answer for him with my life." 
 
 "That is a mere phrase, Orsino," said Corona, 
 gravely, " like a great many things one says when 
 one is very much in earnest. If anything hap- 
 pened to him, your life would be still more pre- 
 cious to me than it is, if that were possible. You 
 all think that because I am often anxious about 
 him, he is my favourite. You do not understand 
 me, any of you. I love you all equally, but I am 
 not equally anxious about you all, and my love 
 shows itself most for the one who seems the least 
 strong and able to fight the world." 
 
 " For that matter, mother, Ippolito is as able to
 
 244 CORLEONE 
 
 fight his own battles as the strongest of us. He 
 is obstinate to a degree hardly anyone can under- 
 stand. He has the quiet, sound, uncompromising 
 obstinacy of the Christian martyrs. People who 
 have that sort of character are not weak, and they 
 are generally very well able to take care of them- 
 selves." 
 
 " Yes, I know he is obstinate. That is, when he 
 insists upon going with you." 
 
 Corona was very far from being satisfied, and 
 Orsino felt that in spite of what she had said she 
 was in reality laying upon him the responsibility 
 for his brother's safety. He himself felt no anx- 
 iety on that score, however. In Rome, many hun- 
 dreds of miles away from Camaldoli, even the 
 things which had really happened during his brief 
 stay in Sicily got an air of improbability and dis- 
 tance which made further complications of the 
 same sort seem almost impossible. Besides, he 
 had the promise of the Minister of the Interior 
 that a company of infantry should shortly be 
 quartered at Santa Vittoria, which would mate- 
 rially increase the safety of the whole neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 Orsino's principal preoccupation was to see Vit- 
 toria again, alone, before he left. In the hope of 
 meeting her he went to a garden party, and in the 
 evening to two houses where she had gone fre- 
 quently during the winter with her mother. But
 
 COBLEONE 245 
 
 she did not appear. Her mother was ill, and Vit- 
 toria stayed at .home with her. Her brothers, on 
 the contrary, were everywhere, always smiling and 
 apparently well satisfied with the world. 
 
 It was said that Tebaldo was trying to marry an 
 American heiress, and Orsino twice saw him talk- 
 ing with the young stranger, who was reported to 
 have untold millions, and was travelling with an 
 aunt, Avho seemed to have as many more of her 
 own. He looked at the girl without much curi- 
 osity, for the type has become familiar in Europe 
 of late years. 
 
 Miss Lizzie Slayback for that was her name 
 was undeniably pretty, though emphatically not 
 beautiful. She was refined in appearance, too, 
 but not distinguished. One could not have said 
 that she was 'nobody,' as the phrase goes, yet 
 no one would have said, at first sight, that she 
 was 'somebody.' Yet she had an individuality 
 of her own, which was particularly apparent in 
 her present surroundings, a sort of national indi- 
 viduality, which contrasted with the extremely 
 de-nationalized appearance and manner of Roman 
 society. For the Romans of the great houses have 
 for generations intermarried with foreigners from 
 all parts of Europe, until such strongly Latin types 
 as the Saracinesca are rare. 
 
 Miss Slayback was neither tall nor short, and 
 she had that sort of generally satisfactory figure
 
 246 CORLEONE 
 
 which has no particular faults and which is ex- 
 tremely easy to dress well. Her feet were exqui- 
 site, her hands small, but not pretty. She had 
 beautiful teeth, but all her features lacked model- 
 ling, though they were all in very good proportion. 
 Her head was of a good shape, and her hair was of 
 a glossy brown, and either waved naturally or was 
 made to wave by some very skilful hand. She had 
 dark blue eyes with strong dark lashes, which 
 atoned in a measure for a certain uninteresting 
 flatness and absence of character about the brows 
 and temples, and especially below the eyes them- 
 selves and at the angles, where lies a principal 
 seat of facial expression. She spoke French flu- 
 ently but with a limited and uninteresting vocabu- 
 lary, so that she often made exactly the same 
 remarks about very different subjects. Yet her 
 point of view being quite different from that of 
 Romans, they listened to what she said with sur- 
 prise, and sometimes with interest. 
 
 Her aunt was not really her aunt, but her 
 uncle's wife, Mrs. Benjamin Slaybackj whose 
 maiden name had been Charlotte Lauderdale a 
 fact which meant a great deal in New York and 
 nothing at all in Rome. She was an ambitious 
 woman, well born and well educated, and her 
 husband had been a member of Congress and was 
 now a senator for Nevada. He was fabulously 
 rich, and his wife, who had married him for his
 
 COBLEONE 247 
 
 money, having been brought up poor, had lately 
 inherited a vast fortune of her own. Miss Lizzie 
 Slayback was the only daughter of Senator Slay- 
 back's elder brother. 
 
 Orsino was told a great many of these facts, and 
 they did not interest him in the least, for he had 
 never thought of marrying a foreign heiress. T5ut 
 he was quite sure from the first that Tebaldo had 
 made up his mind to get the girl if he could. The 
 Slaybacks had been in Rome about a month, but 
 Orsino had not chanced to see them, and did not 
 know how long Tebaldo might have known them. 
 It was said that they did not mean to stay much 
 longer, and Tebaldo was doing his best to make 
 good his running in the short time that remained. 
 
 It chanced that the first time Orsino came face 
 to face with Tebaldo was when the latter had just 
 been talking with Miss Slayback and was flatter- 
 ing himself that he had made an unusually good 
 impression upon her. He was, therefore, in a 
 singularly good humour, for a man whose temper 
 was rarely good and was often very bad indeed. 
 The two men met in a crowded room. Without 
 hesitation Tebaldo held out his hand cordially to 
 Orsino. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you safely back," he 
 said, with a great appearance of frankness. " You 
 are the hero of the hour, you know." 
 
 For a moment even Orsino was confused by
 
 248 COELEONE 
 
 the man's easy manner. Even the eyes did not 
 betray resentment. He said something by way of 
 greeting. 
 
 "I have had some difficulty in making out who 
 the brigand was whom you shot," continued 
 Tebaldo. "It is an odd coincidence. We think 
 it must have been one of the Pagliuca di Bauso. 
 There is a distant branch of the family rather 
 down in the world, I believe it must have been 
 one of them." 
 
 " I am glad it was no nearer relation, " answered 
 Orsino, not knowing what to say. 
 
 "No near relative of mine would have been 
 likely to be in such company," answered the Sicil- 
 ian, rather stiffly, for he was a good actor when 
 not angry. 
 
 "No of course not I did not mean to sug- 
 gest such a thing. It was an odd coincidence, of 
 course." Orsino tried not to look incredulous. 
 
 Tebaldo was about to pass on, when an idea 
 presented itself to Orsino's mind, of which he had 
 not thought before now. Slow men sometimes 
 make up their minds suddenly, and not having 
 the experience of habitually acting upon impulses, 
 they are much more apt to make mistakes, on the 
 rare occasions when they are carried away by an 
 idea, and do so. It seemed to him that if he were 
 ever to speak to either of Vittoria's brothers about 
 marrying her, this was the moment to do so. It
 
 COS LEONE 249 
 
 would be impossible for Tebaldo, in an instant, to 
 deny what lie had just now said, and it would be 
 hard for him to find a pretext for refusing to give 
 his sister to such a man. The whole thing might 
 be carried through by a surprise, and Orsino would 
 take the consequences afterwards, and laugh at 
 them, if he were once safely married. 
 
 Tebaldo had already turned away to speak to 
 someone else, and Orsino went after him and 
 called him back. 
 
 " There is a matter about which I should like to 
 speak to you, Don Tebaldo," he said. "Can we 
 get out of this crowd ? " 
 
 Tebaldo looked at him quickly and sharply, 
 before he answered by a nod. The two men 
 moved away together to the outer rooms, of which 
 there were three or four, stiffly furnished with 
 pier tables and high-backed gilt chairs, as in most 
 old Koman houses. When they were alone, Orsino 
 stopped. 
 
 "It is an important matter," he said slowly. 
 " I wish to speak with you, as being the head of 
 your family." ... 
 
 "Yes," answered Tebaldo, and the lids drooped, 
 vulture-like, at the corners of his eyes, as he met 
 Orsino's look steadily. "By all means. We shall 
 not be interrupted here. I am at your service." 
 
 " I wish to marry your sister, and I desire your 
 consent," said Orsino. " That is the whole matter."
 
 250 CORLEONE 
 
 It would have been impossible to guess from the 
 Sicilian's face whether he had ever anticipated 
 such a proposition or not. There was absolutely 
 no change in his expression. 
 
 "My sister is a very charming and desirable 
 young girl," he said rather formally. "As there 
 seems to be a good deal of liberty allowed to young 
 girls in Home, as compared with Sicily, you will 
 certainly pardon me if I ask whether you have 
 good reason to suppose that she prefers you in any 
 way." 
 
 "I have good reason for supposing so," answered 
 Orsino, but he felt the blood rising to his face as 
 he spoke, for he did not like to answer such a 
 question. 
 
 "I congratulate you," said Tebaldo, smiling a 
 little, but not pleasantly. "Personally, I should 
 also congratulate myself on the prospect of having 
 such a brother-in-law. I presume you are aware 
 that my sister has no dowry. We were ruined by 
 my uncle Corleone." 
 
 . " It is a matter of perfect indifference, " replied 
 Orsino. 
 
 "You are generous. I presume that you have 
 inherited some private fortune of your own, have 
 you not ? " 
 
 "No. I am dependent on my father." 
 
 "Then pardon my practical way of looking 
 at the affair," said Tebaldo, accentuating his smile
 
 CORLEONE 251 
 
 a little, "but, as a mere formality, I think that 
 there must be some proposal from the head of your 
 house. You see, you and Vittoria will be depen- 
 dent on an allowance from your father, who, again, 
 is doubtless dependent on your grandfather, Prince 
 Saracinesca. As my poor sister has nothing, there 
 must necessarily be some understanding about such 
 an allowance." 
 
 "It is just," answered Orsino, but he bit his 
 lip. " My father has an independent estate, " he 
 added, by way of correction. "And my mother 
 has all the Astrardente property." 
 
 "There is no lack of fortune on your side, my 
 dear Don Orsino. You are, of course, sure of 
 your father's consent, so that an interview with 
 him will be a mere formality. For myself, I give 
 you my hand heartily and wish you well. I shall 
 be happy to meet the Prince of Sant' Ilario at any 
 time which may be agreeable to him." 
 
 Orsino felt that the man had got the better of 
 him, but he had to take the proffered hand. 
 Mentally he wondered what strange monster this 
 Tebaldo Pagliuca could be within himself, to 
 
 + 
 
 grasp the hand that had killed his brother less 
 than a week ago, welcoming its owner as his 
 brother-in-law. But he saw that the very simple 
 and natural request for an interview with his 
 father would probably prove a source of almost 
 insurmountable difficulty.
 
 252 CORLEONE 
 
 " I had hoped, " he said, " to have had the pleas- 
 ure of seeing Donna Vittoria here this evening. I 
 shall be obliged to return to Sicily in a day or two. 
 May I see her at your house before I go?" 
 
 Tebaldo hesitated a moment. 
 
 "You will find her at home with my mother 
 to-morrow afternoon," he answered almost imme- 
 diately. "I see no reason why you should not 
 call." 
 
 "But your mother " Orsino stopped short. 
 
 " What were you going to say ? " enquired 
 Tebaldo, blandly. 
 
 " You will be kind enough to tell her that I am 
 coming, will you not?" Orsino saw that he was 
 getting into a terribly difficult situation. 
 
 "Oh, yes," Tebaldo answered. "I shall take 
 great pleasure in announcing you. She is better, 
 I am glad to say, and I have no doubt that this 
 good news will completely restore her." 
 
 Orsino felt a vague danger circling about his 
 heart, as a hawk sails in huge curves that narrow 
 one by one until he strikes his prey. The man 
 was subtle and ready to take advantage of the 
 smallest circumstance with unerring foresight 
 while wholly concealing his real intention. 
 
 "Come at three o'clock, if it is convenient," 
 concluded Tebaldo. "And now " he looked at 
 his watch "you will forgive me if I leave you. 
 I have an engagement which I must keep."
 
 CORLEONE 253 
 
 He shook hands again with great cordiality, and 
 they parted. Tebaldo went out directly, without 
 returning to the inner rooms, but Orsino went 
 back to stay half an hour longer. Out of curi- 
 osity he got a friend to introduce him to Miss 
 Lizzie Slayback. 
 
 The girl looked up with a bright smile when 
 she heard the great name. 
 
 "I have so much wanted to meet you," she 
 said quickly. "You are the man who killed the 
 brigand, are you not ? Do tell me all about 
 it!" 
 
 He was annoyed, for he could not escape, but he 
 resigned himself and told the story in the fewest 
 possible words. 
 
 " How interesting ! " exclaimed Miss Slayback. 
 " And we all thought he was the brother of Don 
 Tebaldo. You know Don Tebaldo, of course ? I 
 think he is a perfect beauty, and so kind." 
 
 Orsino had never thought of Tebaldo Pagliuca 
 as either kind or beautiful, and he said something 
 that meant nothing, in reply. 
 
 " Oh, you arej. jealous of him ! " cried the girl, 
 laughing. "Of course! All the men are." 
 
 Orsino got away as soon as he could. As a 
 necessary formality he was introduced to Mrs. 
 Slayback. He asked her an idle question about 
 how she liked Rome, such as all Romans ask all 
 foreigners about whom they know nothing.
 
 " How late is it safe to stay here ? " she asked, 
 with singular directness, by way of an answer. 
 
 "Home becomes unhealthy in August," said 
 Orsino. " The first rains bring the fever. Until 
 
 ^N 
 
 then it is perfectly safe, and one can return in 
 October without danger. The bad time lasts for 
 six weeks to two months, at most." 
 
 "Thank you," answered Mrs. Slay back, with a 
 little laugh. "We shall not stay till August, I 
 think. It would be too hot. I suppose that it is 
 hot in June." 
 
 "Yes," said Orsino, absently. "I suppose that 
 you would find it hot in June." 
 
 He wanted to be alone, and he left her as soon as 
 he could. He walked home in the warm night and 
 reviewed his position, which had suddenly become 
 complicated. It was clear that he must now speak 
 to his father, since he had committed the folly of 
 making his proposal to Tebaldo. It was almost 
 certain that his father would refuse to hear of the 
 marriage, on any consideration, and he knew that 
 his mother disapproved of it. It was clear also 
 "^hat he could not avoid going to call upon Vittoria 
 and her mother on the following afternoon, but he 
 could not understand why Tebaldo had pretended 
 to be so sure that he should be received, when he 
 himself was tolerably certain that Maria Carolina 
 would refuse to see him. That, however, was a 
 simple matter. He should ask for her, and on
 
 CORLEONE 255 
 
 being told that she could not receive, he should 
 leave his card and go away. But that would not 
 help him to see Vittoria, and it was in order to see 
 her alone before he left that he had suddenly 
 determined to make his proposal to Tebaldo. 
 
 He had got himself into a rather serious scrape, 
 and he was not gifted with more tact than the rest 
 of his bold but tactless race. He therefore decided 
 upon the only course which is open to such a man, 
 which was to take his difficulties, one by one, in 
 their natural order and deal with each as best he 
 could. 
 
 He had nothing more to hope from his mother's 
 intervention. He knew her unchangeable nature 
 and was well aware that she would now hold her 
 position to the last. She would not oppose his 
 wishes, and that was a great deal gained, but she 
 would not help him either. 
 
 Early on the following morning he went to 
 Sant' Ilario's own room, feeling that he had a 
 struggle before him in which he was sure to be 
 defeated, but which he could not possibly avoid. 
 His father was Beading the paper over his coffee 
 by the open window, a square, iron-grey figure 
 clad in a loose grey jacket. The room smelt of 
 coffee and cigarettes. Sant' Ilario's perfect con- 
 tentment and happiness in his surroundings .made 
 him a particularly difficult person to approach 
 suddenly with a crucial question. His serene
 
 256 COELEONE 
 
 felicity made a sort of resisting shell around him, 
 through which it was necessary to break before 
 he himself could be reached. 
 
 He looked up and nodded as Orsino entered. 
 Such visits from his sons were of daily occurrence, 
 and he expected nothing unusual. It was of no 
 use to beat about the bush, and Orsino attacked 
 the main question at once. 
 
 " I wish to speak to you about a serious matter, 
 father," he said, sitting down opposite Sant' Ilario. 
 
 " I wish Sicily were in China, and San Giacinto 
 in Peru," was the answer. 
 
 "It has nothing to do with San Giacinto," said 
 Orsino. "I want to be married." 
 
 Sant' Ilario looked up sharply, in surprise. 
 His eldest son's marriage was certainly a serious 
 matter. 
 
 "To whom?" he enquired. 
 
 "To Vittoria d'Oriani," said Orsino, squaring 
 his naturally square jaw, in anticipation of trouble. 
 
 Sant' Ilario dropped the paper, took his ciga- 
 rette from his lips, and crossed one leg over the 
 other angrily. 
 
 "I was afraid so," he said. "You are a fool. 
 Go back to Sicily and do not talk nonsense." 
 
 The Saracinesca men had never minced matters 
 in telling each other what they thought. 
 
 " I expected that you would say something like 
 that," answered Orsino.
 
 COELEONE 257 
 
 "Then why the devil did you come to me at 
 all?" enquired his father, his grey hair bristling 
 and his eyebrows meeting. 
 
 But Orsiuo was not like him, being colder 
 and slower in every way, and less inclined to 
 anger. 
 
 " I came to you because I had no choice but to 
 come," he answered quietly. "I love her, she 
 loves me, and we are engaged to be married. It 
 was absolutely necessary that I should speak to 
 you." 
 
 " I do not see the necessity, since you knew very 
 well that I should not consent." 
 
 " You must consent in the end, father " 
 
 "I will not. That ends it. It is the worst 
 blood in Italy, and some of the worst blood in 
 Europe. Corleone was a scoundrel, his father was 
 a traitor " 
 
 " That does not affect Donna Vittoria so far as 
 I can see," said Orsino, stubbornly. 
 
 "It affects the whole family. Besides, if they 
 are decent people, they will not consent either. It 
 is not a week since you killed Ferdinando Pagliuca 
 Vittoria's brother " 
 
 "They deny it." 
 
 "They lie, I believe." 
 
 "That is their affair," said Orsino. 
 
 "The fact does not beautify their family char- 
 acter, either," retorted Sant' Ilario. "With the 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 258 
 
 CORLEONE 
 
 
 whole of Europe to choose from, excepting a dozen 
 ; royalties, you must needs' fall in love with the 
 sister of a brigand, the niece of a scoundrel, the 
 granddaughter of " 
 
 "Yes you have said all that. But I have 
 promised to marry her, and that is a side of the 
 question of which you cannot get rid so easily." 
 
 " You did not promise her my consent, I sup- 
 pose. I will not give it. If you choose to marry 
 without it, I cannot hinder you. You can take 
 her and live on her dowry, if she has one." 
 
 "She has nothing." 
 
 " Then you may live by your wits. You shall 
 have nothing more from me." 
 
 "If the wits of the family had ever been worth 
 mentioning, I should ask nothing more," observed 
 Orsino, coldly. "Unfortunately they are not a 
 sufficient provision. You are forcing me into the 
 position of breaking my word to a woman." 
 
 "If neither her parents nor yours will consent 
 to your marriage, you are not breaking your en- 
 gagement. They will not give her to you if you 
 cannot support her. Of course, you can wait 
 until I die. Judging from my father, and from 
 my own state of health at present, it will be a 
 long engagement." 
 
 Orsino was silent for a moment. He did not 
 lose his temper even now, but he tried to devise 
 some means of moving Sant' Ilario.
 
 CORLEONE 259 
 
 "I spoke to Tebalclo Pagliuca last night," he 
 said, after a pause. " In spite of what you seem 
 to expect, he accepted my proposition, so far as 
 he could." 
 
 " Then he is an even greater villain than I had 
 supposed him to be," returned Sant' Ilario. 
 
 " That is no reason why you should force me to 
 humiliate myself to him " 
 
 " Send him to me, if you are afraid to face him. 
 I will explain the situation I will " 
 
 "You will simply quarrel with him, father. 
 You would insult him in the first three words you 
 spoke." 
 
 "That is very probable," said Sant' Ilario. "I 
 should like to. He has been scheming to catch 
 you for his sister ever since the evening they first 
 dined here. But I did not, think you were such a 
 childish idiot as to be caught so easily." 
 
 "No one has caught me, as you call it. I love 
 Vittoria d'Oriani, and she loves me. You have no 
 right to keep us apart because you did not approve 
 of her grandfather and uncle." 
 
 " No right ? *I have no right, you say ? Then 
 who has ? " 
 
 "No one," answered Orsino, simply. 
 
 "I have the power, at all events," retorted his 
 father. "I would not have you marry her 
 would not ? I will not. It is materially impos- 
 sible for you to marry with no money at all, and
 
 260 COELEONE 
 
 you shall have none. Talk no more about it, or 
 I shall positively lose my temper." 
 
 It occurred to Orsino that it was positively lost 
 already, but as he kept his own, he did not say so. 
 He rose from his seat and calmly lighted a ciga- 
 rette. 
 
 " Then there is nothing more to be said, I sup- 
 pose," he observed. 
 
 "Nothing more on that subject," answered Sant' 
 Ilario. "Not that I have the least objection to 
 saying over again all I have said," he added. 
 
 " At all events, you do not pretend that you have 
 any objection to Donna Vittoria herself, do you ? " 
 
 " No except that she has made a fool of you. 
 Most women make fools of men, sooner or later." 
 
 " Perhaps, but you should be the last person to 
 say so, I think." 
 
 "I married with my father's consent," replied 
 Sant' Ilario, as though the fact were an unanswer- 
 able argument. "If I had made to him such a 
 proposition as you are making to me, he would 
 have answered in a very different way, my boy, 
 I can tell you ! " 
 
 " In what way ? " asked Orsino. 
 
 "In what way? Why, he would have been 
 furiously angry ! He would have called me a fool 
 and an idiot, and would have told me to go to the 
 devil." 
 
 Orsino laughed in spite of himself.
 
 COBLEONE 261 
 
 " What are you laughing at ? " enquired Sant' 
 Ilario, sharply, growing hot again in a moment. 
 
 "Those are exactly the words you have been 
 saying to me," answered Orsino. 
 
 " I ? Have I ? Well that only proves that I 
 am like my father, then. And a very good thing, 
 too. It is a pity that you are not more like me 
 than you are. We should understand each other 
 better." 
 
 "We may yet understand each other," said 
 Orsino, lingering in the vain hope of finding some 
 new argument. 
 
 "No doubt. But not about this matter." 
 
 Seeing that it was useless to prolong the discus- 
 sion, Orsino went away to think matters over. He 
 had been quite sure of his father's answer, of 
 course, but that did not improve the situation at 
 all. It had been a necessity of conscience and 
 honour to go to him, after speaking to Tebaldo on 
 the previous evening, because it was not possible 
 to take his answer for granted. But now it became 
 equally a duty of honour and self-respect to com- 
 municate to Tebaldo what Sant' Ilario had said, 
 and to do so was a most unpleasant humiliation. 
 He cared nothing for the fact that his father's 
 refusal might almost seem like an insult to Tebaldo 
 Pagliuca, though he could not quite see how he could 
 make the communication without giving offence. 
 The real trouble was that he should be practically
 
 262 COR LEONE 
 
 obliged to take back what he had said, and to say 
 that after all, in the face of his family's objec- 
 tions, he could not marry Vittoria at present, and 
 saw no prospect of being able to marry her in the 
 future. 
 
 At the same time he wondered how much Te- 
 baldo had told his mother. She also, according 
 to Vittoria' s statement, would oppose their mar- 
 riage with all her power. Yet Tebaldo had pro- 
 fessed himself quite certain that she would receive 
 Orsino when he called. There was something 
 mysterious about that. 
 
 Orsino made up his mind that he would ask for 
 Tebaldo a quarter of an hour before the time named 
 by the latter, and get over the disagreeable inter- 
 view before making an attempt to have a word 
 with Vittoria alone.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 OBSIXO reached the Corleone's house before three 
 o'clock on that afternoon. They lived on the sec- 
 ond floor of a large new building in the Via Venti 
 Settembre, 'Twentieth of September Street,' as it 
 would be in English, so named to commemorate 
 the taking of Rome on that day in 1870. 
 
 A porter in livery asked Orsino whom he wished 
 to see, rang an electric bell, spoke through a speak- 
 iiig-tube, took off his cocked hat in order to listen 
 for the answer, and finally told Orsino that he 
 would be received. There is always something 
 mysterious to the looker-on about any such means 
 of communication at a distance, when he does not 
 hear the voice speaking from the other end. 
 
 It would not have surprised Orsino, if he had 
 heard, as the porter did, that the answer came 
 back in Tebaldo Pagliuca's voice; but he would 
 then not have been so much surprised, either, at 
 being admitted so readily. Tebaldo, in fact, had 
 told the porter to send the visitor up, for he had 
 been waiting for the porter's bell ; but he then told 
 his servant that a gentleman was coming iipstairs 
 to see him, who was to be shown into the drawing- 
 263
 
 2G4 CORLEONE 
 
 room at once, whither Tebaldo himself would pres- 
 ently come. 
 
 Tebaldo had been quite sure that his mother and 
 sister would be at home at that hour, since the 
 former was not yet well enough to go out ; he had 
 been equally sure that his mother would refuse 
 to receive Orsino; he had, therefore, so arranged 
 matters that Orsino should be ushered into her 
 presence unexpectedly, and to accomplish this he 
 had lain in wait in the neighbourhood of the 
 speaking-tube, which came up into the hall of his 
 apartment just inside the door opening upon the 
 stairs. 
 
 So far the explanation of what happened is 
 quite simple. It would be a different thing to un- 
 ravel the complicated and passionate workings of 
 Tebaldo's intricate thoughts. In the first place, 
 in spite of his behaviour in public, he hated Orsino 
 with all his heart for having unwittingly killed 
 his brother, and important as the advantages 
 would be, if Vittoria married the heir of the great 
 house, they by no means outweighed his desire for 
 revenge. 
 
 Tebaldo was not an inhuman monster, though a 
 specialist might have said that he had a strong 
 tendency to criminality. He was capable of affec- 
 tion in a certain degree, apart from mere passion. 
 He was unscrupulous, treacherous, tortuous in his 
 reasonings ; but he was above all tenacious, and
 
 CORLEONE 265 
 
 lie was endowed with much boldness and daring, 
 of the kind which cast a romantic glamour over 
 crimes of violence. 
 
 It had been one thing to threaten Ferdinando 
 with the law, if he refused to sign the deed by 
 which Camaldoli was to be sold. It was quite 
 another matter to give his sister to the man who 
 had shot Ferdinando like a wild animal. There 
 the man's humanity had revolted, though Orsino 
 had not guessed it, when they had met and talked 
 together at the party on the previous evening. 
 
 On the other hand, his cunning bade him not to 
 put himself in the position of refusing Orsiiio's 
 request, seeing that he denied his own relationship 
 with his dead brother. It was easy enough for 
 him to bring Orsino and his mother unexpectedly 
 face to face, and to let the young man hear from 
 her lips what she thought of such a union, if 
 indeed the interview should ever get so far as 
 that. Tebaldo could then calmly intrench himself 
 behind his mother's refusal, and yet maintain out- 
 ward relations with Orsino, while waiting for an 
 opportunity to avenge his brother, which was sure 
 to present itself sooner or later. 
 
 Orsino mounted the stairs resolutely, squaring him- 
 self to meet Tebaldo and tell him of Sant' Ilario's 
 refusal as briefly and courteously as he could. At 
 the same time he was half painfully and half happily 
 conscious of Vittoria's presence in the house. The
 
 266 COBLEONE 
 
 pain arid the pleasure were intermittent and un- 
 certain. 
 
 A servant was waiting and holding the door 
 ajar. 
 
 " Don Tebaldo said that he would see me," said 
 Orsino, mechanically. 
 
 The man bowed in silence, shut the door upon 
 the landing, and then led the way through the 
 little hall and the antechamber beyond, opened a 
 door, and stood aside to let Orsino pass. 
 
 As the door closed behind him, he heard a short 
 and sharp cry in the room, like the warning note 
 of certain fierce wild animals. It was followed 
 instantly by an exclamation of terror in another 
 voice. At the same instant he was aware that 
 there were two women in the room, Maria Caro- 
 lina d'Oriani and her daughter. 
 
 The mother had been lying on a couch, and on 
 seeing him had started up, supporting herself on 
 her hand. The room was half darkened by the 
 partly closed blinds. 
 
 Maria Carolina was dressed in a loose black gown 
 with wide sleeves that showed her thin, bare arms, 
 for the weather was warm. Her white face was 
 thin and ghastly, and her dark eyes gleamed as 
 they caught a little of the light from the window. 
 Orsino stood still two paces from the door. 
 
 " Assassin ! " 
 
 The one word a word of the people, hissed
 
 CORLEONE 267 
 
 from her dry lips with such horror and hatred as 
 Orsino had never heard. There was silence then. 
 Vittoria, as white as her mother, and in an agony 
 of terror, had risen, shrinking and convulsed, grasp- 
 ing with one hand the heavy inner curtain of the 
 window. 
 
 Slowly the lean, dark woman left her seat, rais- 
 ing one thin arm, and pointing straight at Orsino's 
 face, her head thrown back, her parched lips parted 
 and showing her teeth. 
 
 " Murderer ! " she cried. " You dare to show me 
 your face you dare to show me the hands that 
 killed my son ! You dare to stand there before 
 God and me to hear God's curse on you and 
 mine to answer for blood " 
 
 Her lips and throat were dry, so that she could 
 not speak, but choked, and swallowed convulsively, 
 and her eyes grew visibly red. Orsino was riveted 
 to the spot and speechless. For a moment he did 
 not even think of Yittoria, cowering back against 
 the curtain. The woman's worn face was changed 
 in her immense wrath, and he could not take his 
 eyes from her. She found her voice again, pain- 
 fully, fighting agafnst the fiery dryness that choked 
 her. 
 
 "With 'his innocent blood on your hands, you 
 come here you come to face his very mother in 
 her sacred grief to see my tears, to tear out the 
 last shreds of my heart, to revile my mother's soul
 
 268 CORLEONE 
 
 to poison the air that breathes sorrow! But you 
 think that I am weak, that I am only a woman. 
 You think, perhaps, that I shall lose my senses 
 and faint. It would be no shame, but I am not of 
 such women." 
 
 Her voice gathered fulness but sank in tone as 
 she went on. Still Orsino said nothing, for it was 
 impossible to interrupt her. She must say her 
 say, and curse her curse out, and he must listen, 
 for he would not turn and go. 
 
 " You have come," she said, speaking quickly 
 and with still rising fury. " I am here to meet 
 you. I am here to demand blood of you for blood. 
 I am here to curse you, and your name, and your 
 race, your soul and their souls, dead and living, in 
 the name of God, who made my son, of Christ, 
 who died for him, of the Holy Saints, who could 
 not save him from the devil you are in the name 
 of God, and of man, and of the whole world, I 
 curse you! May your life be a century of cruel 
 deaths, and when you die at last with a hundred 
 years of agony in you, may your immortal soul be 
 damned everlastingly a thousand fold! May you 
 pray and not be heard, may you repent and not be 
 forgiven, may you receive the Holy Sacraments to 
 your damnation and the last Unction with fire in 
 hell! May every living creature that bears your 
 name come to an evil before your eyes, your father 
 your mother the men and women of your
 
 CORLEONE 269 
 
 house, and your unborn children ! Blood I would 
 have blood ! May your blood pay for mine, and 
 your soul for my son's soul, who died unconfessed 
 in his sins ! Go, assassin ! go, murderer of the in- 
 nocent! go out into the world with my mother's 
 curse on you, and may every evil thing in earth 
 and hell be everlastingly with you and yours, living 
 and dead ! Blood ! blood ! blood ! " 
 
 Her voice was suddenly and horribly extinguished 
 in the last word, as an instrument that is strained 
 too far cracks in a last discordant note and is silent. 
 She stood one moment more, with outstretched 
 hand and fingers that would still make the sign of 
 one more unspoken curse, and then, Avithout warn- 
 ing, she fell back in a heap towards the couch. 
 
 Simultaneously, Vittoria and Orsino sprang for- 
 ward to catch her, but even before Vittoria could 
 reach her she lay motionless on the floor, her 
 head on the edge of the sofa, her hands stretched 
 out on each side of her, her thin fingers twitch- 
 ing desperately at the carpet. A moment later, 
 they were still, too, and she was unconscious, as 
 the two began to lift her up. 
 
 For an instant neither looked at the other, but 
 as Orsino laid the fainting woman upon the couch, 
 he raised his eyes to Vittoria's. The girl was still 
 overcome with fear at the whole situation, and 
 trembling with horror at her mother's frightful 
 outbreak of rage and hate. She shook her head
 
 270 CO K LEONE 
 
 in a frightened, hopeless way, as she bent down 
 again and arranged a cushion for Maria Carolina. 
 
 " Why did you come Avhy did you come ? " 
 she almost moaned. "I told you " 
 
 Orsino saw that if there was to be any explana- 
 tion, he must seize the opportunity at once. 
 
 "I felt that I must see you before leaving," 
 he answered. "Last night I told your brother 
 Tebaldo that we were engaged to each other. He 
 asked me to come at three o'clock, and said that 
 your mother would receive me I sent up word 
 to ask I was told to come up." 
 
 "We knew nothing of your coming. It must 
 have been the servant's fault." She did not sus- 
 pect her brother of having purposely brought about 
 the meeting. " Now go ! " she added quickly. 
 "Go, before she comes to herself. Do not let 
 her see you again. Go please go ! " 
 
 "Yes I had better go," he answered. "Can 
 I not see you again ? Vittoria I cannot go 
 away like this " 
 
 As he realized that it might be long before he 
 saw her again, his voice trembled a little, and 
 there was a pleading accent in his words which 
 she had never heard. 
 
 "Yes no how can I see you?" she faltered. 
 " There is no way no place when must you 
 leave ? " Maria Carolina stirred, and seemed about 
 to open her eyes. "Go please go!" repeated
 
 CORLEONE 271 
 
 Vittoria, desperately. " She will open her eyes 
 and see you, and it will begin again! Oh, for 
 Heaven's sake " 
 
 Orsino kissed her suddenly while she was speak- 
 ing, once, sharply, with all his heart breaking. 
 Then he swiftly left the room without looking 
 back, almost trying not to think of what he was 
 doing. 
 
 He closed the door behind him. As he turned 
 to look for the way out, in his confusion of mind, 
 the door opposite, which was ajar, opened wide, 
 and he was confronted by Tebaldo, who smiled 
 sadly and apologetically. Orsino stared at him. 
 
 " I am afraid you have had an unpleasant 
 scene,' 7 said the Sicilian, quickly. "It was a 
 most unfortunate accident a mistake of the 
 servant, who took you for the doctor. The fact 
 is, my mother seems to be out of her mind, and 
 she will not be persuaded that Ferdinando is alive 
 and well, till she sees him. She was so violent an 
 hour ago that I sent for a doctor a specialist 
 for insanity. I am afraid I forgot that you were 
 coming, in my axiety about her. I hope you 
 will forgive me. Of course, you have seen for 
 yourself how she feels towards you at present, 
 and in any case at such a time " 
 
 He had spoken so rapidly and plausibly that 
 Orsino had not been able to put in a word. Now 
 he paused as if expecting an answer.
 
 272 COELEONE 
 
 " I regret to have been the cause of further 
 disturbing your mother, who indeed seems to be 
 very ill," said Orsino, gravely. " I hope that she 
 will soon recover." 
 
 He moved towards the outer hall, and Tebaldo 
 accompanied him to the door of the apartment. 
 
 "You will, of course, understand that at such 
 a time it will be wiser not to broach so serious 
 a matter as my sister's marriage," said Tebaldo. 
 " Pray accept again my excuses for having ac- 
 cidentally brought you into so unpleasant a 
 situation." 
 
 He timed his words so that he uttered the last 
 when he was already holding the door open with 
 one hand and stretching out the other to Orsino, who 
 had no choice but to take it, as he said goodbye. 
 Tebaldo closed the door and stood still a moment 
 in thought before he went back. As he turned 
 to go in, Vittoria came quickly towards him. 
 
 "How did it Jiappen that Don Orsino was 
 brought into the drawing-room ? " she asked, still 
 very pale and excited. 
 
 " I suppose the servant took him for the doctor," 
 said Tebaldo, coolly, for he knew that she would 
 not stoop to ask questions of the footman. "I 
 am very sorry," he added. 
 
 He was going to pass on, but she stopped him. 
 
 " Tebaldo I must speak to you it will do as 
 well here as anywhere. The nurse is with her,"
 
 CORLEONE 273 
 
 she said, looking towards the drawing-room. " She 
 fainted. Don Orsino told me in two words, before 
 he went away, that he had spoken to you last 
 night, and that you had told him to come here 
 to-day." 
 
 "That is perfectly exact, my dear. I have no 
 doubt you have found out that your admirer, our 
 brother's assassin, is a strictly truthful person. 
 He insisted upon seeing you; it was impossible to 
 talk at ease at a party, and I told him to come 
 here, intending to see him myself. I told him to 
 come at three o'clock I daresay you know that, 
 too ? " 
 
 " Yes he said it was to be at three o'clock." 
 
 Tebaldo took out his watch and looked at it. 
 
 "It is now only four minutes to three," he 
 observed, "and he is already gone. He came a 
 good deal before his time, or I should have been 
 in the antechamber to receive him and take him 
 into my room, out of harm's way, where I could 
 have explained matters to him. As it is, I was 
 obliged to show him out with some apology for 
 the mistake." 
 
 " How false you are ! " exclaimed Vittoria, her 
 nostrils quivering. 
 
 "Because I refuse to ruin you, and our own 
 future position here ? I think I am wise, not 
 false. Yes, I myself assured him last night that 
 he did not kill our brother, but one of the Pagliuca 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 COELEONE 
 
 di Bauso. I took the hand that did it, and shook 
 it to save your position in Roman society. You 
 seem to forget that poor Ferdinando had turned 
 himself into an outlaw in plain language, he was 
 a brigand." 
 
 "He was worth a score of his brothers," said 
 Vittoria, who was not afraid of him. " You talk 
 of saving my position. It is far more in order to 
 save your own chance of marrying the American 
 girl with her fortune." 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered Tebaldo, with perfect calm. 
 "I include that in the general advantages to be 
 got by what I say. I do not see that it is so very 
 false. On the one hand, Ferdinando was my 
 brother. I shall not forget that. On the other, to 
 speak plainly, he was a criminal. You see I am 
 perfectly logical. No one is obliged to acknow- 
 ledge that he is related to a criminal " 
 
 " No one is obliged to lie publicly, as you do," 
 broke in Vittoria, rather irrelevantly. " As you 
 make me lie rather than let people know what 
 kind of men my surviving brothers are." 
 
 " You are not obliged to say anything. You 
 do not go out into the world just now, because 
 you have to stay with our mother. I will wager 
 that you have not once told the lie you think so 
 degrading." 
 
 "No I have not, so far. No one has forced 
 me to."
 
 COBLEONE 275 
 
 " You need only hold your tongue, and leave 
 the rest to me." 
 
 " You make me act a lie even in not wearing 
 mourning " 
 
 " Of course, if you make morality and honesty 
 depend upon the colour of your clothes," said 
 Tebaldo, scornfully, "I have nothing more to say 
 about it. But it is a great pity that you have 
 fallen in love with that black Saracinesca, the 
 assassin. It will be a source of considerable 
 annoyance and even suffering to you, I daresay. 
 It even annoyed me. It would have been hard 
 to refuse so advantageous an offer without accus- 
 ing him of Ferdinando's death, which is precisely 
 what I will not do, for the sake of all of us. But 
 you shall certainly not marry him, though you 
 are inhuman enough to love him a murderer 
 stained with your own blood." 
 
 " He is not a murderer, for it was an accident 
 and you know it. I am not ashamed of loving 
 him though I cared for Ferdinando more than 
 any of you. And if you talk in that way if you 
 come between us^. " she stopped. 
 
 " What will you do ? " he asked contemptuously. 
 
 "I will tell the truth about Ferdinando," she 
 said, fixing her eyes upon him. 
 
 " To whom, pray ? " 
 
 "To Miss Slayback and her aunt," answered 
 Vittoria, her gentle face growing fierce.
 
 276 COBLEONE 
 
 "Look here, Vittoria," said Tebaldo, more 
 suavely. "Do you know that Orsino Saracinesca 
 is going back to Camaldoli ? Yes. And you know- 
 that Ferdinando had many friends there, and I 
 have some in the neighbourhood. A letter from 
 me may have a good deal to do with his safety or 
 danger, as the case may be. It would be very 
 thoughtless of you to irritate me by interfering 
 with my plans. It might bring your own to a 
 sudden and rather sad conclusion." 
 
 Vittoria turned pale again, for she believed him. 
 He was playing on her fears for Orsino and on her 
 ignorance of the real state of things at Camaldoli. 
 But for the moment his words had the effect he 
 desired. He instantly followed up his advantage. 
 
 " You can never marry him," he said. " But if 
 you will not interfere with my own prospects of 
 marriage, nothing shall happen to Saracinesca. 
 Otherwise " he stopped and waited significantly. 
 
 Exaggerating his power, she believed that it 
 extended to giving warrant of death or safety for 
 Orsino, and her imagination left her little choice. 
 At all events, she would not have dared to risk 
 her lover's life by crossing Tebaldo's schemes for 
 himself. 
 
 "I am sorry for the American girl," she said. 
 " I like her for her own sake, and I would gladly 
 save her from being married to such a man as you. 
 But if you threaten to murder Don Orsino if I tell
 
 COELEONE 277 
 
 her the truth, you have me in your power on that 
 side." 
 
 "On all sides," said Tebaldo, scornfully, ' as he 
 saw how deep an impression he had made on the 
 girl. " I hold his life in my hand, so long as he is 
 at Camaldoli, and while he is there you will obey 
 me. After that, we shall see." 
 
 Vittoria met his eyes fiercely for an instant, and 
 then, thinking of Orsino, she bent her head and 
 went away, going back to her mother. 
 
 She found her conscious again, but exhausted, 
 lying down on the couch and tended by the nurse, 
 who had been in the house since the news of her 
 son's death had prostrated Maria Carolina. She 
 looked at Vittoria with a vague stare, not exactly 
 recollecting whether the girl had been in the room 
 during her outburst of rage against Orsino or not. 
 Vittoria had been behind her all the time. 
 
 " Is he gone ? " asked Maria Carolina, in a faint 
 and hollow voice. " I am sorry I could have 
 cursed him much more 
 
 " Mother ! " exclaimed Vittoria, softly and im- 
 ploringly, and he glanced at the nurse. "You 
 may go, now," she said to the latter, fearing a 
 fresh outburst. "I will stay with my mother." 
 
 The nurse left the room, and the mother and 
 daughter were alone together. They were almost 
 strangers, as has been explained, Vittoria having 
 been left for years at the convent in Palermo, un-
 
 278 COR LEONE 
 
 visited by any of her family, until her uncle's 
 death had changed their fortunes. It was impos- 
 sible that there should be much sympathy between 
 them. 
 
 There was, on the other hand, a sort of natural 
 feeling of alliance between the two women of the 
 household as against the two men. Maria Carolina 
 was mentally degraded by many years of a semi- 
 barbarous life at Camaldoli. which had destroyed 
 some of her finer instincts altogether, and had 
 almost effaced the effect of early education. She 
 looked up to Vittoria as to a superior being, 
 brought up by noble ladies, in considerable sim- 
 plicity of life, but in the most extreme refine- 
 ment of feeling on all essential points, and in 
 an atmosphere of general cultivation and artis- 
 tic taste, which had not been dreamed of in her 
 mother's youth, though it might seem old-fash- 
 ioned in some more modern countries. The girl 
 had received an education which had been good 
 of its kind, and very complete, and she was 
 therefore intellectually her mother's superior by 
 many degrees. She knew it, too, and would have 
 despised her mother if she had been like her 
 brothers. As it was, she pitied her, and suffered 
 keenly when Maria Carolina did or said anything 
 in public which showed more than usual ignorance 
 or provinciality. 
 
 They had one chief characteristic in common,
 
 CORLEONE 279 
 
 and Ferclinando had possessed it also. They were 
 naturally as frank and outspoken as the other two 
 brothers were deceitful and treacherous. As often 
 happens, two of the brothers had inherited more 
 of their character from their father, while the third 
 had been most like his mother. She, poor woman, 
 felt that her daughter was the only one of the 
 family whom she could trust, and looking up to 
 her as she did, she constantly turned to her for 
 help and comfort at home, and for advice as to her 
 conduct in the world. 
 
 But since Ferdinando's death her mind, though 
 not affected to the extent described by Tebaldo 
 in speaking with Orsino, had been unbalanced. 
 Nothing which Vittoria could say could make her 
 understand how the catastrophe had happened, and 
 though she had formerly liked Orsino, she was now 
 persuaded that he had lain in wait for her son and 
 had treacherously murdered him. Vittoria had 
 soon found that the only possible means of keep- 
 ing her quiet was to avoid the subject altogether, 
 and to lead her away from it whenever she ap- 
 proached it. It_ would be harder than ever to 
 accomplish this since she had seen Orsino. 
 
 She lay on her couch, moaning softly to herself, 
 and now and then speaking articulate words. 
 
 "My son, my son ! My handsome boy ! " she 
 cried, in a low voice. "Who will give him back 
 to me ? Who will find me one like him ? "
 
 280 COELEONE 
 
 Her lamentations were like the mourning of a 
 woman of the people. Vittoria tried to soothe her. 
 Suddenly she sat up and grasped the girl's arm, 
 staring into her face. 
 
 " To think that we once thought he might marr j 
 you ! " she cried wildly. " Curse him, Vittoria ! 
 Let me hear you curse him, too ! Curse him for 
 your soul's sake ! That will do me good." 
 
 " Mother ! mother ! " cried the girl, softly press- 
 ing the hand that gripped her arm so roughly. 
 
 "What is the matter with you?" asked the half- 
 mad creature fiercely, as her strength came back. 
 " Why will you not curse him ? Go down on your 
 knees and pray that all the saints will curse him 
 as I do!" 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, mother! Do not begin 
 again ! " 
 
 " Begin ? Ah, I have not ended I shall not end 
 when I die, but always while he is alive my soul 
 shall pursue him, day and night, and I will " 
 she broke off. " But you, too you must wish 
 him evil you, all of us then the evil will go 
 with him always, if many of us cast it on him ! " 
 
 She was like a terrible witch, with her pale face 
 and dishevelled hair, and gaunt arms that made 
 violent gestures. 
 
 " Speak, child ! " she cried again. " Curse him 
 for your dead brother ! " 
 
 " No. I will never do that," said Vittoria.
 
 COELEONE 281 
 
 A new light came into the raving woman's eyes. 
 
 " You love him ! " she exclaimed, half choking. 
 " I know you love him 
 
 With a violent movement she pushed Vittoria 
 away from her, almost throwing her to the ground. 
 Then she fell back on the couch, and slowly 
 turned her face away, covering her eyes with 
 both her hands. Her whole body quivered, and 
 then was still, then shook more violently, and 
 then, all at once, she broke into a terrible sobbing, 
 that went on and on as though it would never stop 
 while she had breath and tears left. 
 
 Vittoria came back to her seat and waited 
 patiently, for there was nothing else to be done. 
 And the sound of the woman's weeping was so 
 monotonous and regular that the girl did not al- 
 ways hear it, but looked across at the half-closed 
 blinds of the window and thought of her own life, 
 and wondered at all its tragedy, being herself half 
 stunned and dazed. 
 
 It was bad enough, as it appeared to her, but 
 could she have known it all as it was to be, and all 
 that she did not yet know of her brother Tebaldo's 
 evil nature, she might, perhaps, have done like her 
 mother, and covered her eyes with her hands, and 
 sobbed aloud in terror and pain. 
 
 That might be said of very many lives, perhaps. 
 And yet men do their best to tear the veil of the 
 future, and to look through it into the darkened
 
 282 COELEONE 
 
 theatre which is each to-morrow. And many, if 
 they knew the price and the struggle, would give 
 up the prize beyond ; but not knowing, and being 
 in the fight, they go on to the end. And some of 
 them win.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 TEBALDO'S own affairs were by no means simple. 
 He had made up his mind to get Miss Lizzie Slay- 
 back for his wife, and her fortune for himself; but 
 he could not make up his mind to forget the beau- 
 tiful Aliandra Basili. The consequence was that 
 he was in constant fear lest either should hear of 
 his devotion to the other, seeing that his brother 
 Francesco was quite as much in love with the 
 singer as he was himself, and but for native 
 cowardice, as ready for any act of treachery which 
 could secure his own ends. By that weakness 
 Tebaldo held him, for the present, in actual bodily 
 fear, which is more often an element even in 
 modern life than is generally supposed. But 
 how long that might be possible Tebaldo could not 
 foresee. At any moment, by a turn of events, 
 Francesco might get out of his power. 
 
 Aliandra's season in Rome had been a great suc- 
 cess, and her career seemed secured, though she 
 had not succeeded in obtaining an immediate 
 engagement for the London season, which had 
 been the height of her ambition. She had made 
 her appearance too late for that, but the possibility 
 283
 
 284 COBLEONE 
 
 of such a piece of good fortune was quite within 
 her reach for the ensuing year. Being in reality 
 a sensible and conscientious artist, therefore, and 
 having at the same time always before her the 
 rather vague hope of marking one of the brothers, 
 she had made up her mind to stay in Rome until 
 July to study certain new parts with an excellent 
 master she had found there. She therefore re- 
 mained where she was, after giving a few perform- 
 ances in the short season after Lent, and she 
 continued to live very quietly with her old aunt 
 in the little apartment they had hired. A certain 
 number of singers and other musicians, with whom 
 she had been brought into more or less close ac- 
 quaintance in her profession, came to see her con- 
 stantly, but she absolutely refused to know any of 
 the young men of society who had admired her and 
 sent her flowers during the opera season. With 
 all her beauty and youth and talent, she possessed 
 a very fair share of her father's profound common 
 sense. 
 
 Of the two,, she very much preferred Francesco, 
 who was gentler, gayer, and altogether a more 
 pleasant companion; but she clearly saw the advan- 
 tage of marrying the elder brother, who had a very 
 genuine old title for which she could provide a 
 fortune by her voice. There were two or three 
 instances of such marriages which had turned out 
 admirably, though several others had been failures.
 
 CORLEONE 285 
 
 She saw no reason why she should not succeed as 
 well as anyone. 
 
 Tebaldo, on his part, had never had the smallest 
 intention of marrying her, though he had hinted 
 to her more than once, in moments of passion, that 
 he might do so. Aliandra was as obstinate as he, 
 and, as has been said, possessed the tenacious 
 instinct of self-preservation and the keen apprecia- 
 tion of danger which especially characterize the 
 young girl of the south. She was by no means 
 a piece of perfection in all ways, and was quite 
 capable of setting aside most scruples in the accom- 
 plishment of her end. But that desired end was 
 marriage, and there was no probability at all that 
 she should ever lose her head and commit an irre- 
 vocable mistake for either of the brothers. 
 
 She saw clearly that Tebaldo was in love with 
 her, as he understood love. She could see how his 
 eyes lighted up and how the warm blood mantled 
 under his sallow brown skin when he was with 
 her, and how his hand moved nervously when it 
 held hers. She could not have mistaken those 
 signs, even if her aunt, the excellent Signora 
 Barbuzzi, had not taken a lively interest in the 
 prospects of her niece's marriage, watching 
 Tebaldo 's face as an old sailor ashore watches 
 the signs of the weather and names the strength 
 of the wind, from a studding-sail breeze to a gale. 
 
 What most disturbed Aliandra's hopes was that
 
 286 CORLEONE 
 
 Tebaldo was cautious even in his passion, and 
 seemed as well able to keep his head as she her- 
 self. His brother often told her that Tebaldo 
 sometimes, though rarely, altogether lost control 
 of himself for a moment, and became like a dan- 
 gerous wild animal. But she did not believe the 
 younger man, who was always doing his best to 
 influence her against Tebaldo, and whom she 
 rightly guessed to be a far more dangerous person 
 where a woman was concerned. 
 
 Francesco had once frightened her, and she was 
 really afraid to be alone with him. There was 
 sometimes an expression which she dreaded in his 
 satyr-like eyes and a smile on his red lips that 
 chilled her. Once, and she could never forget it, 
 he had managed to find her alone in her room at 
 the theatre, and without warning he had seized 
 her rudely and kissed her so cruelly while she 
 struggled in his arms that her lips had been 
 swollen and had hurt her all the next day. Her 
 maid had opened the door suddenly, and he had 
 disappeared at once without another word. She 
 had never told Tebaldo of that. 
 
 Since then she had been very careful. Yet in 
 reality she liked him better, for he could be very 
 gentle ^,nd sympathetic, and he understood her 
 moods and wishes as Tebaldo never did, for he 
 was a woman's man, while Tebaldo was eminently 
 what is called a man's man.
 
 COELEONE 287 
 
 Aliandra was, as yet, in ignorance of Miss Slay- 
 back's existence, but she saw well enough that 
 Tebalclo was concealing something from her. A 
 woman's faculty for finding out that a man has a 
 secret of some sort is generally far beyond her 
 capacity for discovering what that secret is. He 
 appeared to have engagements at unusual times, 
 and there was a slight shade of preoccupation in 
 his face when she least expected it. On the other 
 hand, he seemed even more anxious to please her 
 than formerly, when he was with her, and she 
 even fancied that his manner expressed a sort of 
 relief when he knew that he could spend an hour 
 in her company uninterrupted. 
 
 "When she questioned him, he said that he was 
 in some anxiety about his affairs, and his engage- 
 ments, according to his own account, were with 
 men of business. But he never told what he was 
 really doing. He had not even thought it neces- 
 sary to inform her of the sale of Camaldoli. 
 Though she was a native of the country, he told 
 her precisely what he told everyone in regard 
 to Ferdinando Pagliuca's death. 
 
 "Eh you say so," she answered. "But as for 
 me, I do not believe you. There never was but 
 one Ferdinando Pagliuca, he was your brother, 
 and he was a friend of all the brigands in Sicily. 
 You may tell these Romans about the Pagliuca 
 di Bauso, but I know better. Do you take me
 
 288 CORLEONE 
 
 for a Koman ? We of Randazzo know what a 
 brigand is ! " 
 
 "You should, at all events," answered Tebaldo, 
 laughing, "for you are all related. It is one 
 family. If you knew how many brigands have 
 been called Basili, like you! " 
 
 " Then you and I are also related ! " she laughed, 
 too, though she watched his face. "But as for 
 your brother, may the Lord have him in peace! 
 He is dead, and Saracinesca killed him." 
 
 Tebaldo shrugged his shoulders, but showed no 
 annoyance. 
 
 "As much as you please," he answered. "But 
 my brother Ferdinando is alive and well in 
 Palermo." 
 
 "So much the better, my dear friend. You 
 need not wear mourning for him, as so many 
 people are doing at Santa Vittoria." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Tebaldo, uneasily. 
 
 "Did you ever hear of Concetta, the beaiitiful 
 daughter of Don Atanasio, the apothecary? " asked 
 Aliandra, quietly smiling. 
 
 Tebaldo affected surprise and ignorance. 
 
 "It is strange," continued the singer, "for you 
 admire beauty, and she is called everywhere the 
 Fata del' Etna, the Fairy of Etna, and she is 
 one of the most beautiful girls in the whole world. 
 My father knows her father a little of course, 
 he is only an apothecary " she shrugged her
 
 COELEONE 289 
 
 shoulders apologetically "but in the country one 
 knows everybody. So I have seen her sometimes, 
 as at the fair of Randazzo, when she and her father 
 have had a biscuit and a glass of wine at our house. 
 But we could not ask them to dinner, because . the 
 mayor and his wife were coming, and the lieu- 
 tenant of carabineers an apothecary ! You 
 understand? " 
 
 "I understand nothing beyond what you say," 
 said Tebaldo. " You did not consider the apothe- 
 cary of Santa Vittoria good enough to be asked to 
 meet the mayor of Randazzo. How does that 
 affect me?" 
 
 "Oh, not at all!" laughed Aliandra. "But 
 everything is known, sooner or later. Ferdi- 
 nando, your brother, was at the fair, too I re- 
 member what a beautiful black horse he had, as 
 he rode by our house. But he did not come in, 
 for he did not know us. Now, when Don Atana- 
 sio and Concetta went out, he was waiting a 
 little way down the street, standing and holding 
 his horse's bridle. I saw, for I looked through 
 the chinks of the .blinds to see which way Concetta 
 and her father would go. And your brother bowed 
 to the ground when they came near him. Fancy! 
 To an apothecary's daughter! Just as I have seen 
 you bow to the Princess of Sant' Ilario in the Villa 
 Borghese. She is Saracinesca's mother, is she 
 not? Very well. I tell you the truth when I tell 
 
 VOL. I. U
 
 290 CORLEONE 
 
 you that Don Ferdinando took the two to dine 
 with him in the best room at the inn. They say 
 he thought nothing good enough for the apothe- 
 cary's daughter, though he was of the blood of 
 princes! But now Concetta wears mourning. 
 Perhaps it is not for him? Eh?" 
 
 Aliandra had learned Italian very well when a 
 child, and was even taking lessons in French, in 
 order to be able to sing in Paris. But as she talked 
 with Tebaldo she fell back into her natural dialect, 
 which was as familiar to him as to herself. He 
 loved the sound of it, though he took the greatest 
 pains to overcome his own Sicilian accent in order 
 not to seem provincial in Rome. But it was 
 pleasant to hear it now and then in the midst of 
 a life of which the restraints were all disagreeable 
 to him, while many of them were almost intoler- 
 ably irksome. 
 
 "How much better our language is than this 
 stilted Roman! " he exclaimed, by way of suddenly 
 turning the conversation. " I often wish you could 
 sing your operas in Sicilian." 
 
 " I often sing you Sicilian songs, " she answered. 
 " But it is strange that Concetta should wear mourn- 
 ing, is it not?" 
 
 "Leave Concetta alone, and talk to me about 
 yourself. I have never seen her " 
 
 " Do not say such things ! " laughed Aliandra. 
 " I do not believe much that you say, but you will
 
 CORLEONE 291 
 
 soon not let me believe anything at all. Everyone 
 has seen Concetta. They sing songs about her 
 even in Palermo La Fata del' Etna " 
 
 "Oh, I have heard of her, of course, by that 
 name, but I never remember seeing her. At all 
 events, you are ten times more beautiful than 
 she " 
 
 " I wish I were ! " exclaimed the artist, simply. 
 "But if you think so, that is much." 
 
 " It would be just the same if you were ugly, " 
 said Tebaldo, magnanimously. "I should love 
 you just as I do to distraction." 
 
 "To distraction?" she laughed again. 
 
 "You know it," he answered, with an air of 
 conviction. "I love you, and everything that 
 belongs to you your lovely face, your angelic 
 voice, your words, your silence too much." 
 
 "Why too much?" 
 
 "Because I suffer." 
 
 "There is a remedy for that, my dear Tebaldo." 
 
 "Tell me!" 
 
 "Marry me. It is simple enough! Why should 
 you suffer? " 
 
 Her laughter was musical and sunny, but there 
 was a little irony in its readiness to follow the 
 words. 
 
 "You know that we have often spoken of that," 
 he answered, being taken unawares. "There are 
 difficulties."
 
 292 COELEONE 
 
 "So you alwa}~s say. But then it would be 
 wiser of you not to love me any more, but to marry 
 where you do not find those difficulties. Surely it 
 should be easy! " 
 
 She spoke now with a little scorn, while watch- 
 ing him; and as she saw the vulture-like droop of 
 his eyelids she knew that she had touched him, 
 though she could not quite tell how. She had 
 never spoken so frankly to him before. 
 
 "Not so easy as you think," he replied, with a 
 rather artificial laugh. 
 
 "Then you have tried?" she asked. "I had 
 thought so! And you have failed? My con- 
 dolences ! " 
 
 "I? Tried to marry?" he cried, realizing how 
 far she was leading him. " What are you making 
 me say?" 
 
 "I am trying to make you tell the truth," she 
 answered, with a change of tone. "But it is not 
 easy, for you are clever at deceiving me, and I 
 wonder that you cannot deceive the woman you 
 wish to marry." 
 
 "I do not wish to marry anyone," he protested. 
 
 " No not even me. Me, least of all, because I 
 am not good enough to marry you, though you are 
 good enough to pursue me with what you call your 
 love. I am only an artist, and you must have a 
 princess, of course. I have only my voice, and 
 you want a solid fortune. I have only my honour,
 
 COELEONE 293 
 
 but you want honours through your wife for your- 
 self, and you would tear mine to rags if I yielded 
 a hair's-breadth. You make a mistake, Don 
 Tebaldo Pagliuca. I am a Sicilian girl and I 
 came of honest people. You may suffer as much 
 as you please, but unless you will marry me, you 
 may go on suffering, for you shall not ruin me." 
 
 She spoke strongly, with a strange mixture of 
 theatrical and commonplace expressions; but she 
 was in earnest, and he knew it, and in her momen- 
 tary anger she was particularly fascinating to him. 
 Yet her speech made no real impression upon his 
 mind. He tried to take her hand, but she drew it 
 away sharply. 
 
 "No," she said. "I have had enough of this 
 love-making, this hand-taking, and this faith- 
 breaking. You sometimes speak of marrying me, 
 and then you bring up those terrible, unknown 
 difficulties, which you never define. Yes, you are 
 a prince but there are hundreds of them in our 
 Italy. Yes, I am only an artist, but some people 
 say that I am a great artist and there are very 
 few in Italy, or anywhere else. If it is beneath 
 your dignity to marry a singer, Signor Principe di 
 Corleone, then go and take a wife of your own 
 class. If you love me, Tebaldo Pagliuca, as an 
 honest man loves an honest woman and God 
 knows I am that then marry me, and I, with my 
 voice, will make you a fortune and buy back your
 
 294 COBLEONE 
 
 estates, besides being a faithful wife to you. But 
 if you will not do that, go. You shall not harm 
 my good name by being perpetually about me, and 
 you shall not touch the tips of my fingers with 
 your lips until you are my lawful husband. There, 
 I have spoken. You shall know that a Sicilian, 
 girl is as good as a Roman lady better, per- 
 haps." 
 
 Tebaldo looked at her in some surprise, and his 
 mind worked rapidly, remembering all she had 
 said during the preceding quarter of an hour. 
 She spoke with a good deal of natural dignity and 
 force, and he was ready to admit that she was 
 altogether in earnest. But his quick senses 
 missed a certain note which should have been in 
 her tones if this had been a perfectly spontaneous 
 outburst. It was clear, as it always had been, 
 that she wished to marry him. It was not at all 
 clear that she loved him in the least. It struck 
 him instantly that she must have heard something 
 of his attention to the foreign heiress, and that 
 she had planned this scene in order to bring mat- 
 ters to a crisis. He was too sensible not to under- 
 stand that he himself was absurdly in love with 
 her, in his own way, and that she knew it, as 
 women generally do, and could exasperate him, 
 perhaps, into some folly of which he might re- 
 pent, by simply treating him coldly, as she threat- 
 ened.
 
 COBLEONE 295 
 
 During the silence which followed, she sat with 
 folded arms and half-closed eyes, looking at him 
 defiantly from under her lids. 
 
 " You do me a great injustice, " he said at last. 
 
 " I am sorry," she answered. " I have no choice. 
 I value my good name as a woman, besides my 
 reputation as an artist. You do not justify your- 
 self in the only way in your power, by explaining 
 clearly what the insuperable difficulties are in the 
 Avay of our marriage." 
 
 The notary's daughter did not lack logic. 
 
 " I never said that they were insuperable " 
 
 "Then overcome them, if you want me," an- 
 swered Aliandra, implacably. 
 
 "I said that there were difficulties, and there 
 are great ones. You speak of making a fortune 
 by your voice, my dear Aliandra," he continued, 
 his tones sweetening. "But you must understand 
 that a man who is a gentleman does not like to be 
 dependent on his wife's profession for his sup- 
 port." 
 
 " I do not see that it is more dignified to depend 
 on his wife's money, because she has not earned it 
 by hard work," retorted the singer, scornfully. 
 "It is honestly earned." 
 
 "The honour is entirely yours," said Tebaldo. 
 " The world would grant me no share in it. Then 
 there are my mother's objections, which are strong 
 ones," he went on quickly. "She has, of course,
 
 296 COELEONE 
 
 a right to be consulted, and she does not even 
 know you." 
 
 "It is in your power to introduce me to your 
 mother whenever you please." 
 
 " She is too ill to see anyone " 
 
 " She has not always been ill. You have either 
 been afraid to bring an artist to your mother's 
 house, which is not flattering to me, or else you 
 never had the slightest intention of marrying me, 
 in spite of much that you have said. Though I 
 have heard you call your brother Francesco a 
 coward, I think he is braver than you, for he 
 would marry me to-morrow, if I would have him." 
 
 " And live on what you earn, " retorted Tebaldo, 
 with ready scorn. 
 
 "He has as much as you have," observed Alian- 
 dra. " Your uncle left no will, and you all shared 
 the property equally " 
 
 "You are not a notary's daughter for nothing," 
 laughed Tebaldo. "That is true. But there was 
 very little to share. Do you know what was left 
 when the debts were paid? A bit of land here in 
 Rome that was all, besides Camaldoli. Both 
 have been sold advantageously, and we have just 
 enough to live decently all together. We should 
 be paupers if we tried to separate." 
 
 "You are nothing if not plausible. But you "will 
 forgive me if I say that this difficulty has the air 
 of being really insuperable. You absolutely refuse
 
 CORLEONE 297 
 
 to share what I earn, and you are absolutely incapa- 
 ble of earning anything yourself. That being the 
 case, the sooner you go away the better, for you 
 can never marry me, on your own showing, and 
 you are injuring my reputation in the meantime." 
 
 " I am engaged in speculations, in which I hope 
 to make money," said Tebaldo. "I often tell you 
 that I have appointments with men of business " 
 
 "Yes, you often tell me so," interrupted Ali- 
 andra, incredulously. 
 
 " You are cold, and you are calculating, " retorted 
 Tebaldo, with a sudden change of manner, as 
 though taking offence at last. 
 
 " It is fortunate for me that I am not hot-headed 
 and foolish," replied Aliandra, coolly. 
 
 They parted on these terms. She believed that 
 her coldness would bring him to her feet if any- 
 thing could ; but he was persuaded that his brother 
 had betrayed him and had told her about the 
 American heiress.
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 OKSESO made his preparations for returning to 
 Sicily with a heavy heart. His situation was des- 
 perate at present, for he had exhausted his inge- 
 nuity in trying to discover some means of seeing 
 Yittoria a last time. To leave San Giacinto to do 
 what he could with Camaldoli and refuse to go 
 back at all, for the present, which seemed to be 
 his only chance of a meeting with Vittoria, was 
 a course against which his manliness revolted. 
 Even if there had been no danger connected with 
 the administration of the new estate, he would not 
 have abandoned his cousin at such a time, after 
 promising to help him, and indeed to undertake 
 all work connected with the place. San Giacinto 
 was a busy man, to whom any sacrifice of time 
 might suddenly mean a corresponding loss of 
 money, for which Orsino would hold himself re- 
 sponsible if he brought about the delay. But as 
 it was, since the position he had promised to fill 
 was a dangerous one, nothing could have induced 
 him to withdraw from the undertaking. It would 
 have seemed like running away from a fight. 
 
 It was a consolation to have his brother's com- 
 298
 
 COBLEOXE 299 
 
 pany, as far as anything could console him, though 
 he could not make up his mind for some time to 
 confide in Ippolito. who had always laughed at 
 him for not marrying, and who could probably not 
 understand why he had now allowed himself to fall 
 in love with one of the very few young women in 
 the world whom he might be prevented from mar- 
 rying. He was grave and silent as he put together 
 a few books in his own room, vaguely wondering 
 whether he should ever read them. 
 
 Ippolito was collecting a number of loose sheets 
 of music that lay on the piano, on a chair beside 
 it, on the table among Orsino's things, and even on 
 the floor under the instrument. He had taken off 
 his cassock, because it was warm, and he wore a 
 grey silk jacket which contrasted oddly with his 
 black silk stockings and clerical stock. From time 
 to time, without taking his cigar from his lips, he 
 hummed a few notes of a melody in the thin but 
 tuneful voice which seems to belong to so many 
 musicians and composers, interrupting himself pres- 
 ently and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. 
 Now and then he Jooked at Orsino as though expect- 
 ing him to speak. 
 
 At last, having got his manuscript music into 
 some sort of order, he sat down at the piano to 
 rest himself by expressing an idea he had in his 
 head. 
 
 " How glad you will be not to hear a piano at
 
 300 COELEONE 
 
 Camaldoli," he said, stopping as suddenly as he 
 had begun. 
 
 " It is a horrible instrument," Orsino said, " but 
 it never disturbs me, and it seems to amuse you." 
 
 Ippolito laughed. 
 
 " That is what you always say, but I know you 
 will be glad to be rid of it, and it will do me good 
 to play the orgau at Santa Vittoria for a change. 
 As that is three-quarters of a mile away, it will not 
 disturb you." 
 
 "Nothing disturbs me," replied Orsino, rather 
 sadly. 
 
 Ippolito made up his mind to speak at last. 
 
 "Orsino," he began quietly, "I know all about 
 you and Donna Vittoria. As we are going to be 
 so much together, it is better that I should tell 
 you so. I hate secrets, and I would rather not 
 make a secret of knowing yours if it is one." 
 
 Orsino had looked round sharply when the priest 
 had first spoken, but had then gone back to what 
 he was doing. 
 
 " I am glad you know," he said, " though I would 
 not have told you. I have spoken to our father and 
 mother about it. The one calls me a fool, and the 
 other thinks me one. They are not very encourag- 
 ing. As for her family, her mother curses me for 
 having killed her favourite son, and her brothers 
 pretend that she is mad and then intrench them- 
 selves behind her to say that it is impossible. I
 
 CORLEONE 301 
 
 do not blame them much Heaven knows, I do not 
 blame her at all. All the same, Vittoria and I love 
 each other. It is an impossible situation. I can- 
 not even see her to say goodbye. I wish I could 
 find a way out of it ! " He laughed bitterly. 
 
 "I wish I could," echoed his brother. "But I 
 am only a priest, and you call me a dilettante 
 churchman, at that. Let us see. Let us argue 
 the case as though we were in the theological 
 school. oST'O I am serious you need not frown. 
 How many things can happen ? Three, I think. 
 There are three conceivable terminations. Either 
 you part for ever and forget each other 
 
 " You may eliminate that," observed Orsino. 
 
 " Very well. Or else you continue to love each 
 other, in which event you must either succeed in 
 getting married, or not, and those are the other two 
 cases." 
 
 "One does not need to be a theologian to see 
 that. Similarly, a man must either live or die, and 
 a door must be either open or shut, on pain of not 
 being a door at all." 
 
 "I have not finished," objected Ippolito. "In 
 fact, I have only begun. For the sake of argument, 
 we will assume first that you continue to love each 
 other, but cannot get married." 
 
 " That is the present position." 
 
 " It is not a position which visually lasts long. 
 At the end of a certain time you will naturally
 
 302 COR LEONE 
 
 cease to love each other, and we obtain a second 
 time the case which you at first eliminated." 
 
 " Eliminate it again," said Orsino, gravely. 
 
 "Very well. There remains only one possible 
 issue, after your eliminations. You must be 
 married. On any other assumption you will for- 
 get each other. Now in such cases as yours, how 
 do people act ? You are a layman, and it is your 
 business to know." 
 
 "When both are of age they 'respectfully re- 
 quire ' their respective parents to give their consent. 
 If it is refused, they marry and the law protects 
 them." 
 
 " So does the church," said the priest. " But it 
 does not provide them with an income afterwards, 
 nor in any way guarantee them against the conse- 
 quences of family quarrels. Those are subdivi- 
 sions of the case which you can neither modify 
 nor eliminate." 
 
 " Well," said Orsino, wearily, " what do you con- 
 clude for all this ? " 
 
 Ippolito's gentle face grew suddenly grave, and 
 seemed squarer and more like his brother's. 
 
 " From what I know of the world," he answered, 
 " I conclude that men who mean to do things, do 
 them, and let the consequences take care of them- 
 selves. If you mean to marry Vittoria d'Oriani, 
 you will marry her, without any help and without 
 anyone's advice. If you do not mean to marry her,
 
 COELEONE 303 
 
 you will not, because, under the circumstances, she 
 can assuredly not marry you, as women have been 
 known to marry husbands almost against their 
 will." 
 
 " You have a singularly direct way of putting 
 things," observed Orsino, thoughtfully. 
 
 " That is simply the result of your eliminations," 
 answered the priest. "If you do not love her enough 
 to take her in spite of everything and everybody, 
 you must restore into the list of possibilities the 
 certainty that before long you will not love her at 
 all. For I conceive that half a love is no better 
 as a basis of warfare than half a faith. I do not 
 mean to breed war with our father and mother. 
 That is a serious matter. I am only pursuing the 
 matter to its logical conclusion and end, in words, 
 as you will have to do in your acts, sooner or 
 later." 
 
 "Meanwhile I am doing nothing," said Orsiuo. 
 " And I am horribly conscious that I am doing 
 nothing." 
 
 " You are going away," remarked Ippolito. 
 "That is not inaction." 
 
 " It is worse than inaction it is far worse than 
 doing nothing at all." 
 
 "I am not so sure of that. It is sometimes a 
 good thing to force an interval between events. 
 In the first place, I often hear it said that a 
 separation strengthens a great passion, but destroys
 
 304 CORLEONE 
 
 a small one. All passions seem great when the 
 object is present, but distance brings out the truth. 
 By the time you have been a month at Camaldoli 
 you will know whether it is essential to your hap- 
 piness to marry Vittoria d'Oriani, or not." 
 
 " And suppose that it is ? We come back to the 
 same situation again." 
 
 "Yes we come back to the eternal situation of 
 force against force." 
 
 " And you mean that I should use force ? That 
 is that I should marry her and take all the con- 
 sequences, no matter what they may be ? " 
 
 " I do not mean that you should. I distinguish. 
 I mean that you will, that is all. I am not con- 
 sidering the moral ground of the action, but the 
 human source of it. Your marriage may be the 
 cause of great difficulties and complications, but if 
 you are persuaded that it is quite necessary to your 
 life to marry that young lady, you will marry her. 
 It is by no means an impossible thing to accom- 
 plish, nor even a very difficult one." 
 
 " You do not tell me how far it is a matter of 
 conscience to consider the consequences." 
 
 " It is of no use to tell courageous men that sort 
 of thing," said the priest. " They take the conse- 
 quences, that is all. No man who ever wanted a 
 thing with his whole heart ever stopped to consider 
 how his getting it would affect other people, unless 
 the point of honour was involved."
 
 COELEONE 305 
 
 " And there is no point of honour here, is there ? " 
 asked Orsino, as a man asks a question to which he 
 knows the answer. 
 
 "You know what you have said to Donna Vit- 
 toria," answered Ippolito. " I do not." 
 
 " I have asked her to marry me, and she has con- 
 sented." Orsino laughed a little dryly. " That is 
 the way one puts it, I believe," he added. 
 
 " Then I should say that unless she, of her own 
 accord, releases you from your word, the point of 
 honour lies in not withdrawing it," replied the 
 priest. " If you did, it would mean that you were 
 not willing to take the risks involved in keeping 
 it, would it not ? " 
 
 " Of course it would. I wish you could make 
 our father see that." 
 
 " People of the previous generation never see 
 what happens in ours. They only infer what ought 
 to happen if all their own prejudices had been 
 canonical law for fifty years." 
 
 " That is sedition," laughed Orsino, whose spirits 
 had risen suddenly. 
 
 " No, it is criticism, and criticism is only called 
 sedition under despotic governments. There is no 
 reason why grown men, like you and me, should 
 not criticise- their fathers and mothers up to a cer- 
 tain point, within limits of respect. We honour 
 them, but they are not gods, that we should wor- 
 ship them. When we were little boys we supposed 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 COKLEONE 
 
 that our father knew everything about everything. 
 We are aware, now, that we understand many 
 things which have grown up in our day much bet- 
 ter than he does. To go on supposing that he 
 knew- everything, in spite of evidence, would be 
 a gross form of superstition. Superstition, I sup- 
 pose, means a survival, to wit, the survival of some 
 obsolete belief. That is exactly what it would be 
 in us to artificially maintain the belief of our 
 childhood in our parents' omniscience. Has your 
 love for Donna Vittoria anything to do with the 
 actual amount of her knowledge at any moment? 
 No. But love appears to be made up of passion 
 and affection. Therefore affection is independent 
 of any such knowledge in its object. Therefore 
 we love our parents quite -independently of what 
 they know or do not know about life, or mathe- 
 matics, and we may, consequently, criticise such 
 knowledge in them on its own merits, without in 
 the least detracting from our affection for them- 
 selves." 
 
 "You are a very satisfactory brother," said Or- 
 sino, smiling at his brother's speech. "But I am 
 not sure that you are a strictly orthodox priest on 
 the question of family relations." 
 
 " I give you a theory of such relations," answered 
 Ippolito. " In actual practice I believe that our 
 mother is one of the wisest women living, with- 
 out being in the smallest degree intellectual. It
 
 COELEONE 307 
 
 is true that my experience of women is limited, 
 but I hear a great deal of talk about them. She is 
 fond of Donna Vittoria, I am sure." 
 
 " Yes very. But she sees fifty reasons why I 
 had better not marry her." 
 
 " So do I," said Ippolito, calmly. 
 
 "You? Why, you have been urging me to marry 
 her in spite of everything! " 
 
 " Oh, no. I have only proved to you that if you 
 love her enough, you will marry her in spite of 
 everything. That is a very different thing." 
 
 " Priest ! " laughed Orsino. " Sophist ! " 
 
 "Anything you like," answered Ippolito, swing- 
 ing round on the piano stool and striking a chord. 
 "All the same, I hope you may marry her, and 
 have no bad consequences to deal with, and I will 
 help you if I can." 
 
 " Thank you," said Orsino ; but his voice was 
 drowned by a burst of loud and intricate music, 
 as Ippolito's white fingers flew over the piano while 
 he stared at the ceiling, his head thrown back, his 
 cigar sticking up from between his teeth, he him- 
 self apparently unaware of what his hands were 
 doing, and merely listening to the music. 
 
 Orsino was momentarily cheered and encouraged 
 by all his brother had said, but the situation was 
 not materially improved thereby. It was, indeed, 
 almost as bad as it could be, and an older and 
 wiser man than Orsino would have expected that
 
 308 COELEONE 
 
 something must occur before long, either to im- 
 prove it, or to cut it short at once and for ever, for 
 the simple reason that it could neither last, as it 
 stood, nor be made more difficult by anything which 
 could happen.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 WHEN Orsino and Ippolito reached Camaldoli 
 everything seemed to be quiet, and San Giacinto 
 himself was greatly encouraged by the turn mat- 
 ters had taken. .During the first day or two after 
 Orsino's departure there had still been consider- 
 able curiosity among the people of Santa Vittoria, 
 and more than once San Giacinto had made little 
 speeches, in his direct manner, to the peasants and 
 villagers who hung about in the neighbourhood of 
 the big old house. But after that he had not been dis- 
 turbed, and everything appeared to be progressing 
 favourably. The year was one of abundance, the 
 orange crop, which in Sicily is all gathered before 
 May, had turned out well, the grapes promised 
 an abundant vintage, and even the olives had blos- 
 somed plentifully, though it was still too early to 
 make accurate predictions about the oil. On the 
 whole the prospects for the year were unusually 
 satisfactory, and San Giacinto congratulated himself 
 on having chanced to buy the place in a good year. 
 In an agricultural country like that part of Sicily, 
 the temper of the people is profoundly affected by 
 the harvest. 
 
 309
 
 310 CORLEONE 
 
 The outlaws had not been heard of in the 
 neighbourhood since Ferdinando Pagliuca's death. 
 They were said to be in the region about Noto, at 
 some distance from Camaldoli, towards the south- 
 west. San Giacinto was surprised at not having 
 even received an anonymous letter from one of 
 Ferdinando's friends. He did not suppose that 
 the present pacific state of things could last for- 
 ever, but he had been prepared to meet with a 
 great deal more opposition in what he did. 
 
 On the other hand, he was hindered at every 
 step by small difficulties which always seemed to 
 be perfectly natural. If he wished to build a bit 
 of wall, he found it impossible to obtain stone or 
 quicklime, though there were plenty of masons 
 professing themselves ready to work. He pointed 
 to a quantity of slaked lime drying in a deep tank 
 near the gate of Santa Vittoria. 
 
 ''Eh," said the head mason, shaking his head, 
 "that belongs to the mayor, and he will not sell 
 it." 
 
 And, in fact, the mayor flatly refused to part 
 with a single hodful of the lime, saying that he 
 himself was going to repair his house. 
 
 The masons said that by and by it could be 
 got from the lime-burners, who had sold their last 
 burning to a man in Randazzo. Stone was to be 
 had for the .quarrying, in the black lauds above 
 Camaldoli, but there were no quarryinen in Santa
 
 CORLEONE 311 
 
 Vittoria, and the gang of them that lived higher 
 up Etna had taken a large contract. 
 
 "Patience," said the head mason, gravely. "In 
 time you will have all you want." 
 
 As the bit of wall was not a very important 
 matter, San Giacinto did not care to go to the 
 expense of bringing material from a great distance, 
 and decided to wait. Meanwhile he hired certain 
 men from Bronte to come and clear out all the 
 bush and scrub from among the trees. They came 
 without tools. He gave them tools that belonged 
 to the tenants of Camaldoli, the same which the 
 latter had lent him on the first day to make a 
 clearing close to the house. The Bronte men 
 worked for two hours and then came out of the 
 brush and sat down quietly in the sun. 
 
 " The tools are not good for anything," they said 
 gravely. " We cannot work with them." 
 
 "What is the matter with them?" asked San 
 Giacinto. 
 
 " They are dull. They would not cut strings." 
 
 "Take them away and have them ground," said 
 San Giacinto. 
 
 " Are there knife-grinders in this country ? " 
 asked the men. "Where are they? No. They 
 come, they stay a day, perhaps two days, and they 
 go away." 
 
 San Giacinto looked at the men thoughtfully a 
 moment, then turned on his heel and left them to
 
 312 COR LEONE 
 
 their own devices. He began to understand. The 
 men neither wished to refuse to work for him, nor 
 dared to do the work they undertook, when its 
 execution would in any way improve the defensive 
 conditions of Camaldoli. San Giacinto came back 
 when the men were gone, with two or three of the 
 soldiers, took a hatchet himself, and leading the 
 way proceeded to cut away the thorns and bram- 
 .bles, systematically clearing the ground so as to 
 leave no cover under which an armed man could 
 approach the house unnoticed. He regularly de- 
 voted a part of each day to the work, until it was 
 finished. 
 
 As soon as Ferdinando's body had been removed, 
 there had been no difficulty in getting men to work 
 indoors, and by the time Orsino arrived, consider- 
 able improvements had been effected. But the 
 men would not have begun work in a house where 
 an unburied dead person was still lying. 
 
 The three Saracinesca strolled up to Santa Vit- 
 toria late in the afternoon, San Giacinto and Orsino 
 carrying their rifles, while Ippolito walked along 
 with his hands behind him, just catching up his 
 little silk mantle, staring hard at all the new sights 
 of the road, and mentally wondering what sort of 
 instrument he should find in the little church. 
 
 The place was a mere village without any mediae- 
 val wall, though there was a sort of archway at the 
 principal entrance which was generally called the
 
 COELEONE 313 
 
 gate. Just beyond the shoulder of the mountain, 
 away from Camaldoli, and about fifty yards from 
 this gateway of the village, was a little white 
 church with a tiled roof. It had a modern look, 
 as though it had been lately restored. Then the 
 village straggled down the rough descent towards 
 the shallow valley beyond, having its own church 
 in the little market place. It was distinctly 
 clean, having decently paved streets and solid 
 stone houses with massive mullions, and iron bal- 
 conies painted red. There were a few small 
 shops of the kind always seen in Italian villages. 
 The apothecary's was in the market place, the 
 general shop was in the main street, opposite a 
 wine-seller's, the telegraph office a very recent 
 innovation was over against the chemist's and 
 was worked by the postmaster, and in what had 
 once been a small convent, further on, at the out- 
 skirts of the town, the carabineers were lodged. 
 At San Giacinto's request, fifty men of the line 
 infantry had been quartered in the village within 
 the last few days, the order having been tele- 
 graphed from Rome on Orsino's representations 
 to the Minister of the Interior. The people treated 
 the men and their two young officers civilly, but 
 secretly resented their presence. 
 
 Nowadays, every Italian village has a walled 
 cemetery at some distance from it. The burial 
 ground of Santa Vittoria overlooked Camaldoli;
 
 314 CORLEONE 
 
 being situated a quarter of a mile from the little 
 white church and on the other side of the hill, so 
 that it was out of sight of the village. It was a 
 grimly bare place. Four walls, six feet high, of 
 rough tufo and unplastered, enclosed four or five 
 acres of land. A painted iron gate opened upon the 
 road, and against the opposite wall, inside, was built 
 a small mortuary chapel. The cemetery had not 
 been long in use, and there were not more than a 
 score of black crosses sticking in the earth to mark 
 as many graves. There was no pretence at cul- 
 tivation. The clods were heaped up symmetrically 
 at each grave, and a little rough grass grew on 
 some of them. There was not a tree, nor a flower, 
 nor a creeper to relieve the dusty dreariness of 
 it, and the road itself was not more dry and 
 arid. The little grass that grew had pushed 
 itself up just in the gate-way, where few feet 
 ever passed, and everyone knows what a desolate 
 look a grass-grown entrance gives to any place, 
 even to a churchyard. There were low, round 
 curbstones on each side of the gate. 
 
 The three gentlemen strolled slowly up thejhill 
 in the warm afternoon sunshine, talking as they 
 came. Ippolito was a little ahead of the others, 
 for he was light on his feet, and walked easily. 
 
 " That is the cemetery," observed San Giacinto to 
 Orsino, pointing at the hill. " That is where they 
 buried your friend Ferdinando Corleone on the day
 
 COBLEONE 315 
 
 you left. I suppose they will put up a monument 
 to him." 
 
 " His brothers will not," answered Orsino. " They 
 disown all connexion with him." 
 
 " Amiable race ! " laughed San Giacinto. " There 
 is a figure like a monument sitting outside the 
 gate," he added. " Do you see it ? " 
 
 " It is a woman in black," said Orsino. " She 
 is sitting on something by the roadside." 
 
 They were still a long way off, but both had 
 good eyes. 
 
 " She is probably resting and sitting on her 
 bundle," observed San Giacinto. 
 
 "She .is sitting on a stone, on one of the 
 curbstones," said Ippolito. " She has her head 
 bent down." 
 
 " He sees better than either of us," said Orsino, 
 with a laugh. " I wonder why nobody ever expects 
 a priest to do anything particularly well except 
 pray ? Ippolito can walk as well as we can, he sees 
 better, he could probably beat either of us with a 
 pistol or a rifle if he tried, and I am sure he is far 
 more clever in. -fifty ways than I am. Yet every- 
 one in the family takes it for granted that he is no 
 better than a girl at anything that men do. He 
 was quite right about the woman. She is bending 
 over her face must be almost touching her knees. 
 It is a strange attitude." 
 
 " Probably some woman who has a relation bur-
 
 316 CORLEONE 
 
 led in the cemetery her child, perhaps," sug- 
 gested Ippolito. "She stops at the gate to say 
 a prayer when she goes by." 
 
 "Then she would kneel, I should think," an- 
 swered Orsino. 
 
 Almost unconsciously they all three quickened 
 their pace a little, though the hill grew steeper 
 just there. As they drew near, the outline of the 
 woman in black became distinct against the dark 
 tufo wall behind her, for the sunlight fell full upon 
 her, where she sat. It was a beautiful outline, too, 
 full of expression and simple tragedy. She sat 
 very low, on the round curbstone, one small foot 
 thrust forward and leading the folds of -the loose 
 black skirt, both white hands clasped about the 
 higher knee, towards which the covered head bent 
 low, so that the face could not be seen at all. Not 
 a line nor fold stirred as the three men came up 
 to her. 
 
 Orsino recognized Concetta, though he could not 
 see her features. Her exceptional grace betrayed 
 itself unmistakably, and he should have known any- 
 where the white hands that had been lifted up to 
 him when he had stood at the window in the grey 
 dawn. But he said nothing about it to San Gia- 
 cinto, for he understood her grief, and he could 
 not have spoken of her without being heard by her 
 just then. 
 
 But Ippolito went up to her, before his brother
 
 CORLEONE 317 
 
 could hinder him. She was a lonely and unhappy 
 creature, and he was one of those really charitable 
 people who cannot pass by any suffering without 
 trying to help it. He stood still beside her. 
 
 " What is your trouble ? " he asked gently. 
 " Can anyone help you ? " 
 
 She did not move at first, but" a voice of pain 
 came with slow accents from under the black 
 shawl that fell over her face, almost to her knee. 
 
 "God alone can help the dead," it answered. 
 
 "But you are alive, my child," said Ippolito, 
 bending down a little. 
 
 The covered head moved slowly from side to 
 side, denying. 
 
 " Who are you, that speak of life ? " asked the 
 sorrowful young voice. " Are you the Angel of the 
 Resurrection ? Go in peace, with Our Lady, for I 
 am dead." 
 
 Ippolito thought that she must be mad, and that 
 it might be better to leave her alone. His brother 
 and cousin had gone on, up the road, and were wait- 
 ing for him at a little distance. 
 
 "May you find peace and comfort," said the 
 young priest, quietly, and he moved away. 
 
 But he turned to look back at her, for she seemed 
 the saddest woman he had ever seen, and her voice 
 was the saddest he had ever heard. Something in 
 his own speech had stirred her a little, for when he 
 looked again she had raised her head, and was lift-
 
 318 COS LEONE 
 
 ing the black shawl so that she could see him. 
 She was about to speak, and he stopped where he 
 was, two paces from her, surprised by her extraor- 
 dinary beauty and unnatural pallor. 
 
 " Who are you ? " she asked slowly. " You are 
 a stranger." 
 
 " I am Ippolito Saracinesca, a priest," answered 
 the young man. 
 
 At the name, she started, and her sad eyes 
 opened wide. Then she saw the other two men 
 standing in the road a little way off. Slowly, and 
 with perfect grace, she rose from her low seat. 
 
 " And those two there who are they ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " They are also Saracinesca," said Ippolito. " The 
 one is my brother, the other is my cousin. We are 
 three of the same name." 
 
 He answered her question quite naturally, but he 
 felt sure that she was mad. By this time San Gia- 
 cinto was growing impatient, and he began to move 
 a few steps nearer to call Ippolito. But the latter 
 found it hard to turn away from the deep eyes and 
 the pale face before him. 
 
 " Then there were three of you," said Concetta, 
 in a tone in which scorn sharpened grief." "It 
 is no wonder that you killed him between you." 
 
 " Whom ? " asked Ippolito, very much surprised 
 at the new turn of her speech. 
 
 " Whom ? " All at once there was something
 
 COH LEONE 319 
 
 wild in her rising inflexion. "You ask of me 
 who it was whom you killed down there in the 
 woods ? Of me, Concetta ? Of me, his betrothed ? 
 Of me, who prayed to your brother, there, that 
 I might be let in, to wash my love's face with 
 my tears ? But if I had known to whom I was 
 praying, there would have been two dead men 
 lying there in the chapel of Camaldoli there 
 would have been two black crosses in there, be- 
 hind the gate do you see ? There it is ! The 
 last on the left. No one has died since, but if 
 God were just, the next should be one of you, 
 and the next another, and then another ah, 
 God ! If I had something in these hands " 
 
 She had pointed at Ferdinando's grave, throwing 
 her arm backwards, while she kept her eyes on 
 Ippolito. Now, with a gesture of the people, as 
 she longed for a weapon, she thrust out her small 
 white fists, tightly clenched, towards the priest's 
 heart, then opened them suddenly, in a despairing 
 way, and let her arms fall to her sides. 
 
 " Saracinesca, Saracinesca," she repeated slowly, 
 her voice sinking; "three Saracinesca have made 
 one widow ! But one widow may yet make many 
 widows, and many mourning mothers, and the 
 justice of Heaven is not the justice of man." 
 
 San Giacinto and Orsino had gradually ap- 
 proached Ippolito, and now stood beside him, 
 facing the beautiful, wild girl, in her desolation.
 
 320 COHLEONE 
 
 Grave and thoughtful, the three kinsmen stood 
 side by side. 
 
 There was nothing theatrical nor unreal in the 
 situation. One of themselves had killed the girl's 
 betrothed husband, whom she had loved with all 
 her soul. That was the plain fact, and Orsino 
 had never ceased to realize it. Unhesitatingly, 
 and in honourable self-defence, he had done a deed 
 by which many. were suffering greatly, and he was 
 brought face to face with them in their grief. 
 Somehow, it seemed unjust to him that the girl 
 should accuse his brother and his cousin of Ferdi- 
 naudo's death. 
 
 As she paused, facing them, breathless with the 
 wave of returning pain, rather than from speaking, 
 Orsino moved forward, a little in front of Ippolito. 
 
 " I killed Ferdinando Corleone," he said, gravely. 
 ''Do not accuse us all three, nor curse us all 
 three." 
 
 She turned her great eyes to his face, but her 
 expression did not change. 'Possibly she did not 
 believe him. 
 
 "The dead see," she answered slowly. "They 
 know they know they see both you and me. 
 And the dead do not forget." 
 
 A flying cloud passed over the sun, and the 
 desolate land was suddenly all black and grey and 
 stony, with the solemn vastness of the mountain 
 behind. Concetta drew her shawl up over her
 
 COELEONE 321 
 
 head, as though she were cold, and turned from 
 the three men with a simple dignity, and knelt 
 down on the rough, broken stones, where the blades 
 of coarse grass shot up between, close to the gate, 
 and she clasped her hands together round one of 
 the dusty, painted iron rails. 
 
 " Let us go," said San Giacinto's deep voice. 
 "It is better to leave her, poor girl." 
 
 She did not look back at them as they walked 
 quietly up the road. Her eyes were fixed on one 
 point, and her lips moved quickly, forming whis- 
 pered words. 
 
 "Maria Santissima, let there be three black 
 crosses ! Mother of God, three black crosses ! 
 Mother of Sorrows, three black crosses ! " 
 
 And over and over again, she repeated the ter- 
 rible little prayer. 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 CHAPTEE XX 
 
 THE three men entered the village and walked 
 through the main street. The low afternoon sun 
 was shining brightly again, and only the people 
 who lived on the shady side of the street had 
 opened their windows. Many of them had little 
 iron balconies in which quantities of magnificent 
 dark carnations were blooming, planted in long, 
 earthenware, trough-like pots, and hanging down 
 by their long stalks that thrust themselves be- 
 tween the railings. Outside the windows of the 
 poorer houses, too, great bunches of herbs were 
 hung up to dry in the sun, and strings of scarlet 
 peppers had already begun to appear, though it 
 was early for them yet. Later, towards the 
 autumn, the people hang up the canteloup melons 
 of the south, in their rough green and grey rinds, 
 by neatly made slings of twisted grass, but it was 
 not time for them yet. In some of the houses the 
 people were packing the last of the oranges to be 
 sent down to Piedimonte and thence to Messina 
 for England and America, passing each orange 
 through a wooden ring to measure it, and rejecting 
 those that were much too small or much too large, 
 322
 
 COR LEONE 323 
 
 then wrapping each one separately in tissue paper, 
 while other women packed them neatly in thin 
 deal boxes. The air smelt of them and of the 
 carnations in the balconies, for Santa Vittoria was 
 a clean and sweet village. The cleanliness of the 
 thoroughbred Oriental, a very different being from 
 the filthy Levantine, begins in Sicily, and distin- 
 guishes the Sicilians of the hills from the Cala- 
 brians and from the Sicilians of such seaport towns 
 as Messina. Moreover, there are no beggars in the 
 hill towns. 
 
 San Giacinto had his pocket full of letters for 
 the post office, and wished to see the lieutenant in 
 command of the soldiers; but Orsino had nothing 
 to do, and Ippolito had made up his mind not to 
 return to Camaldoli without having seen the organ 
 in the church. The two brothers went off in 
 search of the sacristan, for the church was closed. 
 
 They found him, after some enquiry, helping to 
 pack oranges in a great vaulted room that opened 
 upon the street. He was a fat man, cross-eyed, 
 with a sort of clerical expression. 
 
 "You wish to, see the organ," he said, coming 
 out into the street. "Truly you will see a fine 
 thing! If you only do not hear it! It makes 
 boom, boom, and wee, wee and that is all it 
 makes. I wager that not even ten cats could make 
 a noise like our organ. Do you know that it is 
 very aged? Surely, it remembers the ark of Noah,
 
 324 COB LEONE 
 
 and Saint Paul must have brought it with him. 
 But then, you shall see; and if you wish to hear 
 it, I take no responsibility." 
 
 Ippolito was not greatly encouraged by such a 
 prospect. 
 
 "But when you have a festival, what do you 
 do? " he enquired. 
 
 "We help it, of course. How should one do? 
 Don Atanasio, the apothecary, plays the clarinet. 
 He is a professor ! Him, indeed, you should hear 
 when he plays at the elevation. You would think 
 you heard the little angels whistling in Paradise ! 
 I, to serve you, play the double bass a little, and 
 Don Ciccio, the carpenter, plays the drum. Being 
 used to the hammer, he does it not badly. And 
 all the time the organ makes boom, boom, and 
 wee, wee. It is a fine concert, but there is much 
 sentiment of devotion, and the women sing. It 
 seems that thus it pleases the saints." 
 
 " Do not the men sing too ? " asked Orsino, 
 idly. 
 
 "Men? How could men sing in church? A 
 man can sing a 'cantilena' in the fields, but in 
 church it is the women who sing. They know all 
 the words. God has made them so. There is that 
 girl of the notary in Raudazzo, for instance you 
 should hear her sing! " 
 
 " I have heard her in Home," said Orsino. " But 
 she sings in a theatre."
 
 COELEONE 325 
 
 " A theatre? Who knows how a theatre is made? 
 See how many things men have invented!" 
 
 They reached the door of the church. 
 
 "Signori, do you really wish to see this organ?" 
 asked the sacristan. " There is a much better one 
 in the little church outside the gate. But the day 
 is hot, and if you only wish to see an organ, this 
 one is nearer." 
 
 " Let me see the good one, by all means, " said 
 Ippolito. "I wish to play on it not to see it! 
 I have seen hundreds of organs." 
 
 " Hundreds of organs ! " exclaimed the man to 
 himself. "Capers! This stranger has travelled 
 much! But if it is indeed not too hot for you," 
 he said, addressing Ippolito, "we will go to Santa 
 Vittoria." 
 
 "It is not hot at this hour," laughed Orsino. 
 "We have walked up from Camaldoli." 
 
 "On foot!" The fat sacristan either was, or 
 pretended to be, amazed. "Great signori like 
 you, to come all that distance on foot ! " 
 
 "What is there surprising in that?" enquired 
 Ippolito. "We" have legs." 
 
 "Birds also have legs," observed the man. "But 
 they fly. It is only the chickens that walk, like 
 poor people. I say that money is wings. If I 
 were a great s ignore, like you, I, would not even 
 walk upstairs. I would be carried. Why should 
 I walk? In order to be tired? It would be a
 
 326 CORLEONE 
 
 folly, if I were rich. I, if you ask me, I like to 
 eat well, to drink well, and then to sleep well. A 
 man who could do these three things should be 
 always happy. But the poor are always in 
 thought." 
 
 " So are the rich, " observed Ippolito. 
 
 "Yes, signore, for their souls, for we are all 
 sinners; but not for their bodies, because they 
 have always something to eat. What do I say? 
 They eat meat every day, and so they are strong 
 and have no thought for their bodies. But one of 
 us, what does he eat? A little bread, a little 
 salad, an onion, and with this in our bodies we 
 have to move the earth. The world is thus made. 
 Patience ! " 
 
 Thus philosophizing, the fat man rolled un- 
 wieldily along beside the two gentlemen, swinging 
 his keys in his hand. 
 
 " If I had made the world, it should be another 
 thing," he continued, for he was a loquacious man. 
 " In the first place, I would have made wine clear, 
 like water, and I would have made water black, 
 like wine. Thus if the wine-seller put water into 
 his wine, we should all see it. Another thing I 
 would have done. I would have made corn grow 
 on trees, like olives. In that way, we should have 
 planted it once in two hundred years, as we do the 
 olive trees, and there would have been less fatigue. 
 Is not that a good thought?"
 
 CORLEONE 327 
 
 "Very original," said Orsino. "It had never 
 struck me." 
 
 "I would also have made men so that their 
 hair should stand on end when they are telling 
 lies, as a donkey lifts his tail when he brays. 
 That would also have been good. But the Creator 
 did not think of it in time. Patience! They say 
 it will be different in Paradise. Hope costs little, 
 but you cannot cook it." 
 
 "You are a philosopher," observed Ippolito. 
 
 "No, signore," answered the sacristan. "You 
 have been misinformed. I am a grocer, or, to say 
 it better, I am the brother of the grocer. When 
 it is the season, after Santa Teresa's day, I kill the 
 pigs and salt the hams and make the sausages. I 
 am also the sacristan, but that yields me little ; 
 for although there is much devotion in our town 
 at festivals, there is little of it among private per- 
 sons. Sometimes an old woman brings a candle to 
 the Madonna, and she gives a soldo to have it 
 lighted. What is that? Can one live with a 
 soldo now and then? But my brother, thanks 
 be to Heaven, is" well-to-do, and a widower. He 
 makes me live with him. He had a son once, but, 
 health to you, Christ and the sea took the boy 
 when he was not yet twenty. Therefore I live 
 with him, to divert him a little, and I kill the 
 pigs, speaking with respect of your face." 
 
 "And what do you do during the rest of the
 
 328 COELEONE 
 
 year?" enquired Orsino, as they neared the gate. 
 
 "Eh, I live so. According to the season, I pack 
 oranges, I trim vines, I make the wine for my 
 brother, and the oil, I take the honey and the wax 
 from the bees, I graft good fruit upon the wild 
 pear trees what should I do? A little of every- 
 thing, in order of eat." 
 
 " But your brother seems to be rich. Have you 
 nothing? " 
 
 " Signore, to me money comes like a freshet in 
 spring and runs away, and immediately I am dry. 
 But to my brother it comes like water into a well, 
 and it stays there. Men are thus made. The one 
 gives, the other takes ; the one shuts his hand, the 
 other opens his. My mother, blessed soul, used to 
 say to me, ' Take care, my son, for when you are 
 old, you will go in rags ! ' But thanks be to 
 Heaven, I have my brother, and I am as you 
 see me." 
 
 They came to the little church with its freshly 
 whitewashed walls and tiled roof. 
 
 "This is the chapel of Santa Vittoria," said the 
 fat sacristan. " The church in the town is dedi- 
 cated to Our Lady of Victories, but this is the chapel 
 of the saint, and there is more devotion here, 
 though it is small, and at the great feast of Santa 
 Vittoria, the procession starts from here and goes 
 to the church, and returns here." 
 
 "It looks new," observed Ippolito.
 
 COBLEONE 329 
 
 " Eh, if all things were what they seem ! " The 
 man chuckled as he turned the key in the lock. 
 "You shall see inside whether it is new. It is 
 older than Saint Peter's in Rome." 
 
 And so it was, by two or three centuries. It 
 was a dark little building, of the Norman period, 
 with low arches and solid little pillars terminating 
 in curiously carved capitals. It had a little nave 
 with intercommunicating side chapels, like aisles. 
 Over the door was a small loft containing the 
 organ, the object of Ippolito's visit. In the 
 uneven floor there were slabs with deep cut but 
 much worn figures of knights and prelates in stiff 
 armour or long and equally stiff looking robes, 
 their heads surrounded by almost illegible inscrip- 
 tions. Over the principal altar there was a bad 
 painting of Saint Vittoria, half covered with ex- 
 voto offerings of silver hearts, while on each side 
 of the picture were hung up scores of hollow wax 
 models of arms, legs, and other parts of the human 
 body, realistically coloured, all remembrances of 
 recoveries from illness, accident, and disease, 
 attributed to the beneficent intervention of the 
 saint. But above, in the little vault of the apse, 
 there were some very ancient and well preserved 
 mosaics, magnificently rich in tone. There was, 
 of course, no dome, and the dim light came in 
 through low windows high up in the nave, above 
 the lower side chapels. The church was clean and
 
 330 CORLEONE 
 
 well kept, and on each side there were half a dozen 
 benches painted with a vivid sky-blue colour. 
 
 The two brothers looked about, with some 
 curiosity, while the fat sacristan slowly jingled 
 his bunch of keys against his leg. 
 
 "Here the dead walk at night," he observed, 
 cheerfully, as the two young men came up to him. 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Orsino, who had 
 been much amused by the man's conversation. 
 
 "The old Pagliuca walk. I have seen their 
 souls running about the floor in the dark, like 
 little candle flames. A little more, and I should 
 have seen their bodies, too, but I ran away. Soul 
 of my mother! I was frightened. It was on the 
 eve of Santa Vittoria, five years ago. The candles 
 for the festival had not come, though we had 
 waited all day for the carrier from Piedimonte. 
 Then he came at dark, for he had met a friend in 
 Linguaglossa, and he was a drunkard, and the wine 
 was new, so he slept on his cart all the way, and 
 it was by the grace of the Madonna that he did not 
 roll off into the ditch. But I considered that it 
 was late, and that the office began early in the 
 morning, and that many strangers came from 
 Bronte and the hill village to our festa, and 
 that it would be a scandal if they found us still 
 dressing the church in the morning. So I took 
 the box of candles on my back and came here, not 
 thinking to bring a lantern, because there is always
 
 CORtEONE 331 
 
 the lamp before the altar where the saint's bones 
 are. Do you understand? " 
 
 "Perfectly. But what about the Pagliuca?" 
 "My brother said, 'You will see the Pagliuca' 
 for everyone says it. But I had a laugh at him, 
 for I thought that a dead man in his grave must be 
 as quiet as a handkerchief in a drawer. So I came, 
 and I unlocked the door, thinking about the festi- 
 val, and I came in, meaning to take a candle from 
 the box and light it at the altar lamp, so that I 
 might see well to stick the others into the candle- 
 sticks. But there was the flame of a caudle burn- 
 ing on the floor. It ran away from me as I 
 came in, and others ran after it, and round and 
 round it. Then I knew that I saw the souls of 
 the old Pagliuca, and I said to myself that pres- 
 ently I should see also their bodies an evil thing, 
 for they have been long dead. Then I made a 
 movement who knows how I did? I dropped 
 the box and I heard it break, and all the candles 
 rolled out upon the floor as though the dead 
 Pagliuca were rattling their bones. But I counted 
 neither one nor two, but jumped out into the road 
 with one jump. Santa Vittoria helped me ; and it 
 was a bright moonlight night, but as I shut the 
 door, I could see the souls of the Pagliuca jumping 
 up and down on the pavement. I said within me, 
 when the dead dance, the living go home. And 
 my face was white. When I came home, my
 
 332 CORLEONE 
 
 brother said, 'You have seen the Pagliuca.' And 
 I said, 'I have seen them.' Then he gave me 
 some rum, and I lay in a cold sweat till morning. 
 From that time I will not come here at night. But 
 in the daytime, it is different." 
 
 Orsino and Ippolito knew well enough that in 
 old Italian churches, where many dead are buried 
 under the pavement, it is not an uncommon thing 
 to see a will-o'-the-wisp at night. But in the dim 
 little church, with the dead Pagliuca lying under 
 their feet, there was something gruesome about 
 the man's graphic story, and they did not laugh. 
 
 "Let us hope that we may not see any ghosts," 
 said Orsino. 
 
 "Amen," answered the sacristan, devoutly. 
 "That is the organ," he said, pointing to the loft. 
 
 He led the way. On one side of the entrance a 
 small arched door gave access to a narrow winding 
 staircase in the thickness of the wall, lighted by 
 narrow slits opening to the air. Though the loft 
 had not appeared to be very high above the pave- 
 ment, the staircase seemed very long. At last the 
 three emerged upon the boarded floor, at the back 
 of the instrument, where four greasy, knotted 
 ropes hung out of worn holes in the cracked wood. 
 The rose window over the door of the church 
 threw a bright light into the little forest of dusty 
 wooden and metal pipes above. The ropes were 
 for working the old-fashioned bellows.
 
 COELEONE 333 
 
 Ippolito went round and took the thin deal cover 
 from the keyboard. He was surprised to find a 
 double bank of keys, and an octave and a half of 
 pedals, which is very uncommon in country organs. 
 He was further unprepared to see the name of a 
 once famous maker in Naples just above the keys, 
 but when he looked up he understood, for on a 
 gilded scroll, supported by two rickety cherubs 
 above his head, he read the name of the donor. 
 
 'FERDIXAXDUS PALIUCA PRIXCEPS COBLEONIS 
 
 COMES SAXCTAE VICTORIAE SICULUS DOXAVIT 
 
 A.D. MDCCCXXI.' 
 
 The instrument was, therefore, the gift of a 
 Ferdinando Pagliuca, Prince of Corleone, Count of 
 Santa Vittoria, probably of one of those Pagliuca 
 whose souls the fat sacristan believed he had seen 
 'jumping up and down on the pavement.' 
 
 The sacristan tugged at the ropes that moved 
 the bellows. Ippolito dusted the bench over which 
 he had leaned to uncover the keys, slipped in, 
 swinging his feet over the pedals, pulled out two 
 or three stops, a.nd struck a chord. 
 
 The tone was not bad, and had in it some of 
 that richness which only old organs are supposed 
 to possess, like old violins. He began to prelude 
 softly, and then, one by one, he tried the other 
 stops. Some were fair, but some were badly out 
 of tune. The cornopean brayed hideously, and the
 
 334 COELEONE 
 
 hautboy made curious buzzing sounds. Ippolito 
 promised himself that he would set the whole 
 instrument in order in the course of a fortnight, 
 and was delighted with his discovery. When he 
 had finished, the fat sacristan came out from 
 behind, mopping his forehead with a blue cotton 
 handkerchief. 
 
 "Capers!" he exclaimed. "You are a pro- 
 fessor. If Don Giacomo hears you, he will die 
 of envy." 
 
 "Who is Don Giacomo?" 
 
 " Eh, Don Giacomo ! He is the postmaster and 
 the telegrapher, and he plays the old organ in the 
 big church on Sundays. But when there is the 
 festival here, a professor comes to play this one, 
 from Catania. But he cannot play as you do." 
 
 Orsino had gone down again into the church 
 while Ippolito had been playing. They found him 
 bending very low over an inscription on a slab near 
 the altar steps. 
 
 "There is a curious inscription here," he said, 
 without looking up. " I cannot quite read it, but 
 it seems to me that I see our name in it. It would 
 be strange if one of our family had chanced to die 
 and be buried here, ages ago." 
 
 Ippolito bent down, too, till his head touched 
 his brother's. 
 
 "It is not Latin," he said presently. " It looks 
 like Italian."
 
 CORLEONE 335 
 
 The fat sacristan jingled his keys rather impa- 
 tiently, for it was growing late. 
 
 "Without troubling yourselves to read it, you 
 may know what it is," he said. "It is the old 
 prophecy about the Pagliuca. When the dead 
 walk here at night they read it. It says, 'Esca 
 Pagliuca pesca Saracen.' But it goes round a 
 circle like a disk, so that you can read it, 'Saracen 
 esca Pagliuca pesca ' either, Let Pagliuca go out, 
 the Saracen is fishing, or, Let the Saracen go out, 
 Pagliuca is fishing." 
 
 " ' Or Saracinesca Pagliuca pesca ' Saracinesca 
 fishes for Pagliuca, " said Ippolito to Orsino, with a 
 laugh at his own ingenuity. 
 
 " Who knows what it means ! " exclaimed the 
 sacristan. " But they say that when it comes true, 
 the last Corleone shall die and the Pagliuca d'Ori- 
 ani shall end. But whether they end or not, they 
 will walk here till the Last Judgment. Signori, 
 the twilight descends. If you do not wish to see 
 the Pagliuca, let us go. But if you wish to see 
 them, here are the keys. You are the masters, 
 but I go home. This is an evil place at night." 
 
 The man was growing nervous, and moved away 
 towards the door. The two brothers followed him. 
 
 "The place is consecrated," said Ippolito, as 
 they reached the entrance. " What should you be 
 afraid of ? " 
 
 "Santa Vittoria is all alone here," answered the
 
 336 CORLEONE 
 
 man, " and the Pagliuca are more than fifty, when 
 they come out and walk. What should a poor 
 Christian do? He is better at home, with a pipe 
 of tobacco." 
 
 The sun had set when they all came out upon 
 the road, and the afterglow was purple on the 
 snow of Etna. 
 
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