the novel corleone

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CORLEONE ATALEOFSICILY BY F MARIONCRAWFORD AUTHOBOF“SARACINESCA,”“PIETROGHISLERI,”“CASABEACCIO,” ETC.,ETC INTWOVOLUMES VOL I THEMACMILLANCOMPANY LONDON:MACMILLAN&CO.,LTD 1897 AllRightsReserved COPYRIGHT,1896,BYF MARIONCRAWFORD CORLEONE CHAPTERI “IFyounevermeantomarry,youmightaswellturnpriest,too,”saidIppolito Saracinescatohiselderbrother,Orsino,withalaugh “Why?”askedOrsino,withoutasmile “Itwouldbeassensibletosaythata manwhohadneverseensomeparticularthing,aboutwhichhehasheardmuch, mightaswellputouthiseyes.” Theyoungpriestlaughedagain,tookupthecigarhehadlaidupontheedgeof thepiano,puffedatittillitburnedfreely,andthenstrucktwoorthreechordsof amodulation Asheetofruledpaperonwhichseveralstavesofmusicwere roughlyjotteddowninpencilstoodontherackoftheinstrument Orsinostretchedouthislonglegs,leanedbackinhislowchair,andstaredatthe oldgildedrosettesinthesquaredivisionsofthecarvedceiling Hewasa discontentedman,andknewit,whichmadehisdiscontentamatterforselfreproach,especiallyasitwasquitecleartohimthatthecauseofitlayin himself Hehadmadetwogreatmistakesatthebeginningoflife,whenbarelyofage,and thoughneitherofthemhadultimatelyproducedanyseriousmaterial consequences,theyhadaffectedhisnaturallymelancholictemperandhad broughtouthisinheritedhardnessofdisposition Atthetimeofthegreat buildingspeculationsinRome,severalyearsearlier,hehadfoolishlyinvolved himselfwithhisfather’soldenemy,UgodelFerice,andhadfoundhimselfat lastaltogetherinthelatter’spower,thoughnotinrealityhisdebtor Atthesame time,hehadfallenverymuchinlovewithayoungwidow,who,lovinghimvery sincerelyinherturn,butbelieving,formanyreasons,thatifshemarriedhimshe wouldbedoinghimanirreparableinjury,hadsacrificedherselfbymarryingDel Fericeinstead,sellingherselftothebankerforOrsino’srelease,withoutthe latter’sknowledge Whenitwasallover,Orsinohadfoundhimselfa disappointedmanatanagewhenmostyoungfellowsarelittlemorethan inexperiencedboys,andtheseriousdispositionwhichheinheritedfromhis mothermadeitimpossibleforhimtothrowofftheimpressionreceived,and claimtheyouth,sotospeak,whichwasstillhis Sincethattime,hehadbeenattractedbywomen,butnevercharmed;andthose thatattractedhimwereforthemostpartnotmarriageable,anymorethanthe fewthingswhichsometimesinterestedandamusedhimwereinanysense profitable Hespentagooddealofmoneyinacarelessway,forhisfatherwas generous;buthisratherbitterexperiencewhenhehadattemptedtooccupy himselfwithbusinesshadmadehimcoolandclearheaded,sothatheneverdid anythingatallruinous Thehottemperwhichhehadinheritedfromhisfather andgrandfathernowrarely,ifever,showeditself,anditseemedasthough nothingcouldbreakthroughthequietindifferencewhichhadbecomeasecond outwardnaturetohim Hehadtravelledmuch,oflateyears,andwhenhemade anefforthisconversationwasnotuninteresting,thoughthehabitoflookingat bothsidesofeveryquestionmadeitcoldandunenthusiastic Perhapsitwasa hopefulsignthathegenerallyhadadefiniteopinionastowhichoftwoviewshe preferred,thoughhewouldnottakeanytroubletoconvinceothersthathewas right Inhisownfamily,helikedthecompanyofIppolitobest Thelatterwas abouttwoyearsyoungerthanhe,andverydifferentfromhiminalmostevery way Orsinowastall,stronglybuilt,extremelydark;Ippolitowasofmedium height,delicatelymade,andalmostfairbycomparison Orsinohadleanbrown hands,wellknitatthebase,andbroadattheknuckles;Ippolito’swereslender andwhite,andrathernervous,withblueveinsatthejoints,thetipsofthefingers pointed,thethumbunusuallydelicateandlong,thenailsnaturallypolished The elderbrother’sface,withitslargeandenergeticlines,itsgravelyindifferent expressionandduskyolivehue,contrastedateverypointwiththefeaturesofthe youngpriest,softinoutline,modelledinwaxratherthanchiselledinbronze, paleanda-littletransparent,insteadofswarthy,feminine,perhaps,inthebest senseoftheword,asitcanbeappliedtoaman Ippolitohadtheclear,soft browneyeswhichverygiftedpeoplesooftenhave,especiallymusiciansand paintersofmoretalentthanpower Butaboutthefine,even,andratherpalelips therewastheunmistakablestampoftheascetictemperament,togetherwithan equallysureindicationofawittyhumourwhichcouldbekeen,butwouldrather begentle Ippolitowassaidtoresemblehismother’smother,andwasnotably differentinappearanceandmannerfromtherestofthenumerousfamilyto whichhebelonged Hewasapriestbyvocationratherthanbychoice Hadhechosendeliberatelya professioncongenialtohisgifts,hewouldcertainlyhavedevotedhimself altogethertomusic,thoughhewouldprobablyneverhavebecomefamousasa composer;forhelackedtheroughcreativepowerwhichhewsoutgreat conceptions,thoughhepossessedinahighdegreethetasteandskillwhichcan lightlyandlovinglyandwiselyimpartfinedetailtothebroadbeautyofawell- plannedwhole Butbyvocationhewasapriest,andthestrengthofthe convictionofhisconscienceleftthegiftsofhisartisticintelligencenopowerto choose Hewasachurchmanwithallhissoul,andamusicianwithallhisheart Betweenthetwobrotherstherewasthatsortofclosefriendshipwhich sometimesexistsbetweenpersonswhoaretoowhollydifferenttounderstand eachother,butwhosenon-understandingisaconstantstimulantofintereston bothsides Inthemidstofthelargeandpeaceablepatriarchalestablishmentin whichtheylived,andinwhicheachmembermadeforhimselforherselfan existencewhichhadinitacertainsubduedindividuality,OrsinoandIppolito wereparticularlyassociated,andthepriest,whenhewasathome,wasgenerally tobefoundinhiselderbrother’ssitting-room,andkeptagoodmanyofhis possessionsthere Itwasabigroom,withanoldcarvedandgildedceiling,threetallwindows openingtothefloor,twodoors,amarblefireplace,athickoldcarpet,andagreat dealoffurnitureofmanyoldandnewdesigns,arrangedwithnoregardto anythingexceptusefulness,sinceOrsinowasnotafflictedwithartistictastes,nor withanyujidrfeappreciationofuselessobjects Ippolito’sshortgrandpiano occupiedaprominentpositionnearthemiddlewindow,andnotfarfromitwas Orsino’sdeepchair,besidewhichstoodalowtablecoveredwithbooksand reviews For,likemostdiscontentedanddisappointedpeoplewhohavenoreal objectinlife,OrsinoSaracinescareadagooddeal,andhankeredafterinterestin fictionbecausehefoundnoneinreality Ippolito,onthecontrary,readlittle,and thoughtmuch AfterOrsinohadansweredhisremarkaboutmarriage,thepriestbusiedhimself forsometimewithhismusic,whilehisbrotherstaredattheceilinginsilence, listeningtothemodulationsandthefragmentsoftentativemelodyand experimentalharmony,withoutintheleastunderstandingwhattheyoungerman wastryingtoexpress Hewasfondofanymusicalsound,inanundefinedway, asmostItaliansare,andheknewbyexperiencethatifheletIppolitoalone, somethingpleasanttohearwouldbeforelongbeevolved ButIppolitostopped suddenlyandturnedhalfroundonthepianostool,withaquickmovement habitualtohim HeleanedforwardtowardsOrsino,tappingtheendsofhis fingerslightlyagainstoneanother,ashiswristsrestedonhisknees “ItisabsurdtosupposethatinallRome,orinallEurope,forthatmatter,thereis nobodywhomyouwouldbewillingtomarry.” “Quiteabsurd,Isuppose,”answeredOrsino,notlookingathisbrother “Thenyouhavenotreallylookedaboutyouforawife Thatisclear.” “Perfectlyclear Idonotarguethepoint WhyshouldI?Thereisplentyoftime, andbesides,thereisnoreasonintheworldwhyIshouldevermarryatall,any morethanyou Thereareourtwoyoungerbrothers Letthemtakewivesand continuethename.” “Mostpeoplethinkthatmarriagemayberegardedasameansofhappiness,” observedIppolito “Mostpeopleareimbeciles,”answeredOrsino,gloomily Ippolitolaughed,watchinghisbrother’sface,buthesaidnothinginreply “Asageneralrule,”Orsinocontinuedpresently,“talkingisaquestionofheight andnotofintelligence Theshortermenandwomenare,themoretheytalk;the tallertheyare,themoresilenttheyare,inninecasesoutoften Ofcoursethere areexceptions,butyoucangenerallytellataglancewhetheranyparticular personisagreattalker Brainsarecertainlynotmeasurablebyinches Therefore conversationhasnothingtodowithbrains Thereforemostpeoplearefools.” “Doyoucallthatanargument?”askedthepriest,stillsmiling “No Itisanobservation.” “Andwhatdoyoudeducefromit?” “Fromit,andfromagreatmanyotherthings,Ideduceandconcludethatwhat wecallsocietyisadegradingfarce Itencouragestalking,whennoonehas anythingtosay Itencouragesmarriage,withoutlove Itsetsupfashionagainst taste,tasteagainstsense,andsenseagainstheart Itisamachineryforpromoting emotionamongtheunfeeling Itisa“ Orsinostopped,hesitating “Isitanythingelse?”askedIppolito,mildly “Itisahellonearth“ “Thatisexactlywhatmostoftheprophetsandsaintshavesaid,sinceDavid,” remarkedthepriest,movingagaininordertofindhishalf-smokedcigar,and thencarefullyrelightingit “Sincethatisyouropinion,whynottakeorders?You mightbecomeaprophetorasaint,youknow Thefirststeptowardssanctityisto despisethepompsandvanitiesofthiswickedworld Youseemtohavetakenthe firststepatajump,withbothfeet Anditisthefirststepthatcoststhemost, theysay Courage!Youmaygofar.” “Iamthinkingofgoingfurtherbeforelong,”saidOrsino,gravely,asthoughhis brotherhadspokeninearnest “Atallevents,Imeantogetawayfromallthis,” headded,asthoughcorrectinghimself “Doyoumeantotravelagain?”enquiredIppolito “Imeantofindsomethingtodo Provideditisrespectable,Idonotcarewhatit is IfIhadtalent,likeyou,Iwouldbeamusician,butIwouldnotbeanamateur, orIwouldbeanartist,oraliteraryman ButIhavenotalentforanything, exceptbuildingtenementhouses,andIshallnottrythatagain Iwouldevenbe anactor,ifIhadthegift PerhapsIshouldmakeagoodfarmer,butourfather willnottrustmenow,forheisafraidthatIshouldmakeruinousexperimentsif hegavemethemanagementofanestate Thisiscertainlynotthetimefor experiments Halfthepeopleweknowareruinedandthecountryisalmost bankrupt Idonotwishtotryexperiments Iwouldwork,andtheytellmeto marry Youcannotunderstand Youareonlyanamateuryourself,afterall, Ippolito.” “Anamateurmusicianyes.” “No Youareanamateurpriest Yousupportyoursensitivesoulonasortof religiousambrosia,withagooddealofmusicalnectar Youridealistobe Cardinal-ProtectoroftheArts Youarecleverandastonishinglygood,bynature, andyoudeservenocreditforeither ThatisprobablywhyIlikeyou Ihate peoplewhodeservecredit,becauseIdeservenonemyself Butyoudonottake yourclericalprofessionseriously,andyouareanamateur,adilettanteofthe altar Ifyoudonothavedistractionsaboutthevestmentsyouwearwhenyouare sayingmass,itisbecauseyouhaveanintimate,unconsciousartisticconviction thattheyarebeautifulandbecomingtoyou Butifthechoirrespondedaflat ‘Amen’toyour‘peromniasaeculasaeculorum,’itwouldsetyourteethonedge andupsetyourdevoutintentionatthebeginningofthePreface Doyouthink thataprofessionalmusicianwouldbedisturbedinconductingagreatorchestra, bythefactthathiscoatcollardidnotfit?” Ippolitosmiledgoodhumouredly,butdidnotanswer “Verywell,”continuedOrsinoatonce,“youareonlyanamateurpriest Itdoes notmatter,sinceyouarehappy Yougetthroughlifeverywell Youdonoteven pretendthatyoudoanyrealwork Yourvocation,asyoucallit,wasalikingfor thestateofpriesthood,notfortheworkofapriest NowIdonotcareaboutany stateinparticular,butIwantworkofsomesort,atanycost Iwasneverhappy butonce,duringthattimewhenIworkedwithContiniandgotintotrouble I preferredittothisexistence,evenwhenwegotintoDelFerice’sclutches Anythingratherthanthis.” “Ithoughtyouhadgrownindifferent,”saidIppolito “Indifferent?Yes,Iamindifferentasamachineisindifferentwhenthefireisout andthereisnosteam Butifthethingcouldthink,itwouldwantwork,asIdo It wouldnotbesatisfiedtorusttopieces Yououghttoknowalittletheology Are weputintotheworldwithapurpose,ornot?Isthereanintentioninour existence,oristherenot?AmItolivethroughanotherfortyorfiftyyearsof totalinactivity,becauseIhappentobebornrich,andinapositionwell,a positionwhichisreallyaboutasenviableasthatofaflyinapotofhoney?We arestuckinourtraditions,justastheflyisinthehoney“ “Ilikethem,”saidIppolito,quietly “Iknowyoudo Sodoesourfather Theysuityouboth Ourfatherisreallya veryintelligentman,buttoomuchhappinessandtoomuchmoneyhave paralyzedhim Hisexistenceseemstohavebeenaconditionofperpetual adorationofourmother.” “Hehasmadeherhappy Thatisworthsomething.” “Shehasmadehimhappy Theyhavemadeeachotherhappy Theyhave devouredalifetimeofhappinesstogetherinsecret,asthoughitweretheirlawful prey Astheyneverwantedanythingelse,theyneverfoundoutthatthehoneyof traditionsissticky,andthattheycouldnotmoveiftheywould.” “Theyarefondofus—” “Ofcourse Wehavenoneofusdoneanythingverybad Weareapartoftheir happiness Wearealsoapartoftheirdulness;fortheyaredull,andtheir happinessmakesusdull,too.” “Whatanidea!” “Itistrue Whathaveweaccomplished,anyofusfourbrothers?Whatshallwe everaccomplish?Weareornamentsonthearchitectureofourfather’sand mother’shappiness Itisratheranegativemissioninlife,youmustadmit Iam gladthattheyarehappy,butIshouldliketobesomethingmorethanagargoyle ontheirtemple.” “Thenmarry,andhaveatempleofyourown!”laughedIppolito “Andgargoyles ofyourown,too.” “ButIdonotwantthatsortofhappiness Marriageisnotaprofession Itisnota career.” “No Atleast,youmightturnoutadilettantehusband,asyousaythatIaman amateurpriest.”Ippolitolaughedagain Orsinolaugheddryly,butdidnotanswer,notbeinginahumourforjesting He leanedbackinhischairagain,andlookedatthecarvedceilingandthoughtof whatitmeant,foritwasoneofthoseceilingswhichareonlytobefoundinold Romanpalaces,andbelongintimatelytotheexistencewhichthoseolddwellings suggest Orsinothoughtofthegrimdarkwallsoutside,oftheforbidding gateway,oftheheavilybarredwindowsonthelowerstory,ofthedarkstreetat thebackofthepalace,andthemedieevalismofitallwasasrepugnanttohimas theatmosphereofaprison Hehadneverunderstoodhisfathernorhisgrandfather,whobothseemedborn forsuchanexistence,andwhocertainlythrivedinit;fortheoldPrincewas overninetyyearsofage,andhisson,Sant’Ilario,thoughnowbetweenfiftyand sixty,wastoallintentsandpurposesstillayoungman Orsinowasperhapsas strongaseitherofthem Buthedidnotbelievethathecouldlastaslong Inthe midstofanenforcedidlenesshefeltthemovementoftheageabouthim,andhe saidtohimselfthathewasintheraceofwhichtheywereonlyspectators,and thathewasbornintimeswhenitwasimpossibletostandstill Itistruethat,like manyyoungmenofto-day,hetookmovementforprogressandchangefor improvement,andhehadnoveryprofoundunderstandingoftheconditionofhis ownorofothercountries Butthemovementandthechangearefactsfrom whichnoonecanescapewhohashadamoderneducation GiovanniSaracinesca,Orsino’sfather,knownasPrinceofSaint’Ilario,sincethe oldPrinceSaracinescawasstillliving,hadnothadamoderneducation,andhis motherhaddiedwhilehewasamerechild Broughtupbymen,amongmen,he hadreachedmanhoodearly,inclosedailyassociationwithhisfatherandwitha strongnaturaladmirationforhim,thoughwithanequallystrongsenseof personalindependence Orsino’syouthhadbeendifferent Hewasnotanonlyson,asSant’Ilariohad been,buttheeldestoffourbrothers,andhehadbeenbroughtupbyhismother aswellasbyhisfatherandgrandfather Therehadbeenlessroomforhis charactertodevelopfreely,sincethegreatoldhousehadbeengraduallyfilledby alargefamily Atthesametimetherehadalsobeenlessroomforoldfashioned prejudicesandtraditionsthanformerly,andagooddeallessrespectforthem,as therehadbeen,too,amuchmorelivelyconsciousnessoftheouterworld’s movements ThetakingofRomein1870wasthedeath-blowofmedisevalism; andthepassingawayofKingVictorEmmanuelandofPopePiustheNinthwas theendofItalianromanticism,ifonemayusetheexpressiontodesignateallthat concatenationofbigandlittleeventswhichmakeupthethrillingstoryofthe struggleforItalianunity Afterthestruggleforunity,beganthestruggleforlife, moredesperate,moredangerous,butimmeasurablylessromantic Thereisall thedifferencewhichliesbetweenbankingandfighting AndOrsinowasawareofqualitiesandfeelingsandopinionsiuhisfatherand motherwhichhedidnotpossess,butwhichexcitedinhimasortofenvyofwhat heregardedastheirsimplicity Eachseemedtohavewantedbutonethinginlife sincehecouldrememberthem,andthatwastheother’slove,inpossessing whicheachwassatisfiedandhappy Timesmightchangeastheywould,popes mightdie,kingsmightbecrowned,partiesmightwrangleinpoliticalstrife,and thewholecountrymightlivethroughitsperilousjoysofsuddenprosperityand turnsouragaininthefermentthatfollowsfailure,itwasallthesameto GiovanniandCorona AsOrsinohadtoldhisbrother,theyhaddevoureda lifetimeofhappinesstogetherinsecret Hewouldhaveaddedthattheyhadleft noneforothers,andinasenseitmighthavebeentrue Buthepreferrednotto sayit,eventoIppolito;foritwouldhavesoundedbitter,whereasOrsino believedhimselftobeonlyindifferent ThethreeSaracinescastrolleduptoSantaVittorialateintheafternoon,San GiacintoandOrsinocarryingtheirrifles,whileIppolitowalkedalongwithhis handsbehindhim,justcatchinguphislittlesilkmantle,staringhardatallthe newsightsoftheroad,andmentallywonderingwhatsortofinstrumenthe shouldfindinthelittlechurch Theplacewasamerevillagewithoutanymediaevalwall,thoughtherewasa sortofarchwayattheprincipalentrancewhichwasgenerallycalledthegate Justbeyondtheshoulderofthemountain,awayfromCamaldoli,andaboutfifty yardsfromthisgatewayofthevillage,wasalittlewhitechurchwithatiledroof Ithadamodernlook,asthoughithadbeenlatelyrestored Thenthevillage straggleddowntheroughdescenttowardstheshallowvalleybeyond,havingits ownchurchinthelittlemarketplace Itwasdistinctlyclean,havingdecently pavedstreetsandsolidstonehouseswithmassivemullions,andironbalconies paintedred TherewereafewsmallshopsofthekindalwaysseeninItalian villages Theapothecary’swasinthemarketplace,thegeneralshopwasinthe mainstreet,oppositeawine-seller’s,thetelegraphofficeaveryrecent innovationwasoveragainstthechemist’sandwasworkedbythepostmaster, andinwhathadoncebeenasmallconvent,furtheron,attheoutskirtsofthe town,thecarabineerswerelodged AtSanGiacinto’srequest,fiftymenofthe lineinfantryhadbeenquarteredinthevillagewithinthelastfewdays,theorder havingbeentelegraphedfromRomeonOrsino’srepresentationstotheMinister oftheInterior Thepeopletreatedthemenandtheirtwoyoungofficerscivilly, butsecretlyresentedtheirpresence Nowadays,everyItalianvillagehasawalledcemeteryatsomedistancefromit TheburialgroundofSantaVittoriaoverlookedCamaldoli;beingsituateda quarterofamilefromthelittlewhitechurchandontheothersideofthehill,so thatitwasoutofsightofthevillage Itwasagrimlybareplace Fourwalls,six feethigh,ofroughtufoandunplastered,enclosedfourorfiveacresofland A paintedirongateopenedupontheroad,andagainsttheoppositewall,inside, wasbuiltasmallmortuarychapel Thecemeteryhadnotbeenlonginuse,and therewerenotmorethanascoreofblackcrossesstickingintheearthtomarkas manygraves Therewasnopretenceatcultivation Theclodswereheapedup symmetricallyateachgrave,andalittleroughgrassgrewonsomeofthem Therewasnotatree,noraflower,noracreepertorelievethedustydrearinessof it,andtheroaditselfwasnotmoredryandarid Thelittlegrassthatgrewhad pusheditselfupjustinthegateway,wherefewfeeteverpassed,andeveryone knowswhatadesolatelookagrass-grownentrancegivestoanyplace,eventoa churchyard Therewerelow,roundcurbstonesoneachsideofthegate Thethreegentlemenstrolledslowlyupthejhillinthewarmafternoonsunshine, talkingastheycame Ippolitowasalittleaheadoftheothers,forhewaslighton hisfeet,andwalkedeasily “Thatisthecemetery,”observedSanGiacintotoOrsino,pointingatthehill “ThatiswheretheyburiedyourfriendFerdinandoCorleoneonthedayyouleft Isupposetheywillputupamonumenttohim.” “Hisbrotherswillnot,”answeredOrsino “Theydisownallconnexionwith him.” “Amiablerace!”laughedSanGiacinto “Thereisafigurelikeamonument sittingoutsidethegate,”headded “Doyouseeit?” “Itisawomaninblack,”saidOrsino “Sheissittingonsomethingbythe roadside.” Theywerestillalongwayoff,butbothhadgoodeyes “Sheisprobablyrestingandsittingonherbundle,”observedSanGiacinto “She issittingonastone,ononeofthecurbstones,”saidIppolito “Shehasher headbentdown.” “Heseesbetterthaneitherofus,”saidOrsino,withalaugh “Iwonderwhy nobodyeverexpectsapriesttodoanythingparticularlywellexceptpray? Ippolitocanwalkaswellaswecan,heseesbetter,hecouldprobablybeateither ofuswithapistolorarifleifhetried,andIamsureheisfarmorecleverin fiftywaysthanIam Yeteveryoneinthefamilytakesitforgrantedthatheisno betterthanagirlatanythingthatmendo Hewasquiterightaboutthewoman Sheisbendingoverherfacemustbealmosttouchingherknees Itisastrange attitude.” “Probablysomewomanwhohasarelationburledinthecemeteryherchild, perhaps,”suggestedIppolito “Shestopsatthegatetosayaprayerwhenshe goesby.” “Thenshewouldkneel,Ishouldthink,”answeredOrsino Almostunconsciouslytheyallthreequickenedtheirpacealittle,thoughthehill grewsteeperjustthere Astheydrewnear,theoutlineofthewomaninblack becamedistinctagainstthedarktufowallbehindher,forthesunlightfellfull uponher,whereshesat Itwasabeautifuloutline,too,fullofexpressionand simpletragedy Shesatverylow,ontheroundcurbstone,onesmallfootthrust forwardandleadingthefoldsof-thelooseblackskirt,bothwhitehandsclasped aboutthehigherknee,towardswhichthecoveredheadbentlow,sothattheface couldnotbeseenatall Notalinenorfoldstirredasthethreemencameupto her OrsinorecognizedConcetta,thoughhecouldnotseeherfeatures Her exceptionalgracebetrayeditselfunmistakably,andheshouldhaveknown anywherethewhitehandsthathadbeenlifteduptohimwhenhehadstoodat thewindowinthegreydawn ButhesaidnothingaboutittoSanGiacinto,for heunderstoodhergrief,andhecouldnothavespokenofherwithoutbeing heardbyherjustthen ButIppolitowentuptoher,beforehisbrothercouldhinderhim Shewasa lonelyandunhappycreature,andhewasoneofthosereallycharitablepeople whocannotpassbyanysufferingwithouttryingtohelpit Hestoodstillbeside her “Whatisyourtrouble?”heaskedgently “Cananyonehelpyou?” Shedidnotmoveatfirst,but”avoiceofpaincamewithslowaccentsfrom undertheblackshawlthatfelloverherface,almosttoherknee “Godalonecanhelpthedead,”itanswered “Butyouarealive,mychild,”saidIppolito,bendingdownalittle Thecoveredheadmovedslowlyfromsidetoside,denying “Whoareyou,thatspeakoflife?”askedthesorrowfulyoungvoice “Areyou theAngeloftheResurrection?Goinpeace,withOurLady,forIamdead.” Ippolitothoughtthatshemustbemad,andthatitmightbebettertoleaveher alone Hisbrotherandcousinhadgoneon,uptheroad,andwerewaitingforhim atalittledistance “Mayyoufindpeaceandcomfort,”saidtheyoungpriest,quietly,andhemoved away Butheturnedtolookbackather,forsheseemedthesaddestwomanhehadever seen,andhervoicewasthesaddesthehadeverheard Somethinginhisown speechhadstirredheralittle,forwhenhelookedagainshehadraisedherhead, andwasliftingtheblackshawlsothatshecouldseehim Shewasaboutto speak,andhestoppedwherehewas,twopacesfromher,surprisedbyher extraordinarybeautyandunnaturalpallor “Whoareyou?”sheaskedslowly “Youareastranger.” “IamIppolitoSaracinesca,apriest,”answeredtheyoungman Atthename,shestarted,andhersadeyesopenedwide Thenshesawtheother twomenstandingintheroadalittlewayoff Slowly,andwithperfectgrace,she rosefromherlowseat “Andthosetwotherewhoarethey?”sheasked “TheyarealsoSaracinesca,”saidIppolito “Theoneismybrother,theotheris mycousin Wearethreeofthesamename.” Heansweredherquestionquitenaturally,buthefeltsurethatshewasmad By thistimeSanGiacintowasgrowingimpatient,andhebegantomoveafewsteps nearertocallIppolito Butthelatterfoundithardtoturnawayfromthedeep eyesandthepalefacebeforehim “Thentherewerethreeofyou,”saidConcetta,inatoneinwhichscorn sharpenedgrief.”“Itisnowonderthatyoukilledhimbetweenyou.” “Whom?”askedIppolito,verymuchsurprisedatthenewturnofherspeech “Whom?”Allatoncetherewassomethingwildinherrisinginflexion “Youask ofmewhoitwaswhomyoukilleddownthereinthewoods?Ofme,Concetta? Ofme,hisbetrothed?Ofme,whoprayedtoyourbrother,there,thatImightbe letin,towashmylove’sfacewithmytears?ButifIhadknowntowhomIwas praying,therewouldhavebeentwodeadmenlyingthereinthechapelof Camaldolitherewouldhavebeentwoblackcrossesinthere,behindthegatedo yousee?Thereitis!Thelastontheleft Noonehasdiedsince,butifGodwere just,thenextshouldbeoneofyou,andthenextanother,andthenanotherah, God!IfIhadsomethinginthesehands“ ShehadpointedatFerdinando’sgrave,throwingherarmbackwards,whileshe kepthereyesonIppolito Now,withagestureofthepeople,asshelongedfora weapon,shethrustouthersmallwhitefists,tightlyclenched,towardsthe priest’sheart,thenopenedthemsuddenly,inadespairingway,andletherarms falltohersides “Saracinesca,Saracinesca,”sherepeatedslowly,hervoicesinking;“three Saracinescahavemadeonewidow!Butonewidowmayyetmakemany widows,andmanymourningmothers,andthejusticeofHeavenisnotthe justiceofman.” SanGiacintoandOrsinohadgraduallyapproachedIppolito,andnowstood besidehim,facingthebeautiful,wildgirl,inherdesolation Graveand thoughtful,thethreekinsmenstoodsidebyside Therewasnothingtheatricalnorunrealinthesituation Oneofthemselveshad killedthegirl’sbetrothedhusband,whomshehadlovedwithallhersoul That wastheplainfact,andOrsinohadneverceasedtorealizeit Unhesitatingly,and inhonourableself-defence,hehaddoneadeedbywhichmany weresuffering greatly,andhewasbroughtfacetofacewiththemintheirgrief Somehow,it seemedunjusttohimthatthegirlshouldaccusehisbrotherandhiscousinof Ferdinaudo’sdeath Asshepaused,facingthem,breathlesswiththewaveofreturningpain,rather thanfromspeaking,Orsinomovedforward,alittleinfrontofIppolito “IkilledFerdinandoCorleone,”hesaid,gravely “Donotaccuseusallthree,nor curseusallthree.” Sheturnedhergreateyestohisface,butherexpressiondidnotchange ‘Possiblyshedidnotbelievehim “Thedeadsee,”sheansweredslowly “Theyknowtheyknowtheyseebothyou andme Andthedeaddonotforget.” Aflyingcloudpassedoverthesun,andthedesolatelandwassuddenlyallblack andgreyandstony,withthesolemnvastnessofthemountainbehind Concetta drewhershawlupoverherhead,asthoughshewerecold,andturnedfromthe threemenwithasimpledignity,andkneltdownontherough,brokenstones, wherethebladesofcoarsegrassshotupbetween,closetothegate,andshe claspedherhandstogetherroundoneofthedusty,paintedironrails “Letusgo,”saidSanGiacinto’sdeepvoice “Itisbettertoleaveher,poorgirl.” Shedidnotlookbackatthemastheywalkedquietlyuptheroad Hereyeswere fixedononepoint,andherlipsmovedquickly,formingwhisperedwords “MariaSantissima,lettherebethreeblackcrosses!MotherofGod,threeblack crosses!MotherofSorrows,threeblackcrosses!” Andoverandoveragain,sherepeatedtheterriblelittleprayer CHAPTERXX THEthreemenenteredthevillageandwalkedthroughthemainstreet Thelow afternoonsunwasshiningbrightlyagain,andonlythepeoplewholivedonthe shadysideofthestreethadopenedtheirwindows Manyofthemhadlittleiron balconiesinwhichquantitiesofmagnificentdarkcarnationswereblooming, plantedinlong,earthenware,trough-likepots,andhangingdownbytheirlong stalksthatthrustthemselvesbetweentherailings Outsidethewindowsofthe poorerhouses,too,greatbunchesofherbswerehunguptodryinthesun,and stringsofscarletpeppershadalreadybeguntoappear,thoughitwasearlyfor themyet Later,towardstheautumn,thepeoplehangupthecanteloupmelonsof thesouth,intheirroughgreenandgreyrinds,byneatlymadeslingsoftwisted grass,butitwasnottimeforthemyet Insomeofthehousesthepeoplewere packingthelastoftheorangestobesentdowntoPiedimonteandthenceto MessinaforEnglandandAmerica,passingeachorangethroughawoodenring tomeasureit,andrejectingthosethatweremuchtoosmallormuchtoolarge, thenwrappingeachoneseparatelyintissuepaper,whileotherwomenpacked themneatlyinthindealboxes Theairsmeltofthemandofthecarnationsinthe balconies,forSantaVittoriawasacleanandsweetvillage Thecleanlinessofthe thoroughbredOriental,averydifferentbeingfromthefilthyLevantine,beginsin Sicily,anddistinguishestheSiciliansofthehillsfromtheCalabriansandfrom theSiciliansofsuchseaporttownsasMessina Moreover,therearenobeggars inthehilltowns SanGiacintohadhispocketfulloflettersforthepostoffice,andwishedtosee thelieutenantincommandofthesoldiers;butOrsinohadnothingtodo,and IppolitohadmadeuphismindnottoreturntoCamaldoliwithouthavingseen theorganinthechurch Thetwobrotherswentoffinsearchofthesacristan,for thechurchwasclosed Theyfoundhim,aftersomeenquiry,helpingtopackorangesinagreatvaulted roomthatopeneduponthestreet Hewasafatman,cross-eyed,withasortof clericalexpression “Youwishto,seetheorgan,”hesaid,comingoutintothestreet “Trulyyouwill seeafinething!Ifyouonlydonothearit!Itmakesboom,boom,andwee,wee andthatisallitmakes Iwagerthatnoteventencatscouldmakeanoiselikeour organ Doyouknowthatitisveryaged?Surely,itremembersthearkofNoah, andSaintPaulmusthavebroughtitwithhim Butthen,youshallsee;andifyou wishtohearit,Itakenoresponsibility.” Ippolitowasnotgreatlyencouragedbysuchaprospect “Butwhenyouhaveafestival,whatdoyoudo?“heenquired “Wehelpit,ofcourse Howshouldonedo?DonAtanasio,theapothecary,plays theclarinet Heisaprofessor!Him,indeed,youshouldhearwhenheplaysat theelevation YouwouldthinkyouheardthelittleangelswhistlinginParadise! I,toserveyou,playthedoublebassalittle,andDonCiccio,thecarpenter,plays thedrum Beingusedtothehammer,hedoesitnotbadly Andallthetimethe organmakesboom,boom,andwee,wee Itisafineconcert,butthereismuch sentimentofdevotion,andthewomensing Itseemsthatthusitpleasesthe saints.” “Donotthemensingtoo?”askedOrsino,idly “Men?Howcouldmensinginchurch?Amancansinga‘cantilena’inthe fields,butinchurchitisthewomenwhosing Theyknowallthewords God hasmadethemso ThereisthatgirlofthenotaryinRaudazzo,forinstanceyou shouldhearhersing!“ “IhaveheardherinHome,”saidOrsino “Butshesingsinatheatre.” “Atheatre?Whoknowshowatheatreismade?Seehowmanythingsmenhave invented!” Theyreachedthedoorofthechurch “Signori,doyoureallywishtoseethisorgan?”askedthesacristan “Thereisa muchbetteroneinthelittlechurchoutsidethegate Butthedayishot,andif youonlywishtoseeanorgan,thisoneisnearer.” “Letmeseethegoodone,byallmeans,”saidIppolito “Iwishtoplayonitnot toseeit!Ihaveseenhundredsoforgans.” “Hundredsoforgans!”exclaimedthemantohimself “Capers!Thisstrangerhas travelledmuch!Butifitisindeednottoohotforyou,”hesaid,addressing Ippolito,“wewillgotoSantaVittoria.” “Itisnothotatthishour,”laughedOrsino “Wehavewalkedupfrom Camaldoli.” “Onfoot!”Thefatsacristaneitherwas,orpretendedtobe,amazed “Great signorilikeyou,tocomeallthatdistanceonfoot!” “Whatistheresurprisinginthat?”enquiredIppolito “We”havelegs.” “Birdsalsohavelegs,”observedtheman “Buttheyfly Itisonlythechickens thatwalk,likepoorpeople Isaythatmoneyiswings IfIwereagreatsignore, likeyou,I,wouldnotevenwalkupstairs Iwouldbecarried WhyshouldI walk?Inordertobetired?Itwouldbeafolly,ifIwererich I,ifyouaskme,I liketoeatwell,todrinkwell,andthentosleepwell Amanwhocoulddothese threethingsshouldbealwayshappy Butthepoorarealwaysinthought.” “Soaretherich,“observedIppolito “Yes,signore,fortheirsouls,forweareallsinners;butnotfortheirbodies, becausetheyhavealwayssomethingtoeat WhatdoIsay?Theyeatmeatevery day,andsotheyarestrongandhavenothoughtfortheirbodies Butoneofus, whatdoesheeat?Alittlebread,alittlesalad,anonion,andwiththisinour bodieswehavetomovetheearth Theworldisthusmade Patience!” Thusphilosophizing,thefatmanrolledunwieldilyalongbesidethetwo gentlemen,swinginghiskeysinhishand “IfIhadmadetheworld,itshouldbeanotherthing,”hecontinued,forhewasa loquaciousman “Inthefirstplace,Iwouldhavemadewineclear,likewater, andIwouldhavemadewaterblack,likewine Thusifthewine-sellerputwater intohiswine,weshouldallseeit AnotherthingIwouldhavedone Iwould havemadecorngrowontrees,likeolives Inthatway,weshouldhaveplantedit onceintwohundredyears,aswedotheolivetrees,andtherewouldhavebeen lessfatigue Isnotthatagoodthought?” “Veryoriginal,”saidOrsino “Ithadneverstruckme.” “Iwouldalsohavemademensothattheirhairshouldstandonendwhenthey aretellinglies,asadonkeyliftshistailwhenhebrays Thatwouldalsohave beengood ButtheCreatordidnotthinkofitintime Patience!Theysayitwill bedifferentinParadise Hopecostslittle,butyoucannotcookit.” “Youareaphilosopher,”observedIppolito “No,signore,”answeredthesacristan “Youhavebeenmisinformed Iama grocer,or,tosayitbetter,Iamthebrotherofthegrocer Whenitistheseason, afterSantaTeresa’sday,Ikillthepigsandsaltthehamsandmakethesausages Iamalsothesacristan,butthatyieldsmelittle;foralthoughthereismuch devotioninourtownatfestivals,thereislittleofitamongprivatepersons SometimesanoldwomanbringsacandletotheMadonna,andshegivesasoldo tohaveitlighted Whatisthat?Canonelivewithasoldonowandthen?Butmy brother,thanksbetoHeaven,is”well-to-do,andawidower Hemakesmelive withhim Hehadasononce,but,healthtoyou,Christandtheseatooktheboy whenhewasnotyettwenty ThereforeIlivewithhim,todiverthimalittle,and Ikillthepigs,speakingwithrespectofyourface.” “Andwhatdoyoudoduringtherestoftheyear?”enquiredOrsino,asthey nearedthegate “Eh,Iliveso Accordingtotheseason,Ipackoranges,Itrimvines,Imakethe wineformybrother,andtheoil,Itakethehoneyandthewaxfromthebees,I graftgoodfruituponthewildpeartreeswhatshouldIdo?Alittleofeverything, inorderofeat.” “Butyourbrotherseemstoberich Haveyounothing?“ “Signore,tomemoneycomeslikeafreshetinspringandrunsaway,and immediatelyIamdry Buttomybrotheritcomeslikewaterintoawell,andit staysthere Menarethusmade Theonegives,theothertakes;theoneshutshis hand,theotheropenshis Mymother,blessedsoul,usedtosaytome,‘Take care,myson,forwhenyouareold,youwillgoinrags!‘Butthanksbeto Heaven,Ihavemybrother,andIamasyouseeme.” Theycametothelittlechurchwithitsfreshlywhitewashedwallsandtiledroof “ThisisthechapelofSantaVittoria,”saidthefatsacristan “Thechurchinthe townisdedicatedtoOurLadyofVictories,butthisisthechapelofthesaint,and thereismoredevotionhere,thoughitissmall,andatthegreatfeastofSanta Vittoria,theprocessionstartsfromhereandgoestothechurch,andreturns here.” “Itlooksnew,”observedIppolito “Eh,ifallthingswerewhattheyseem!”Themanchuckledasheturnedthekey inthelock “Youshallseeinsidewhetheritisnew ItisolderthanSaintPeter’s inRome.” Andsoitwas,bytwoorthreecenturies Itwasadarklittlebuilding,ofthe Normanperiod,withlowarchesandsolidlittlepillarsterminatingincuriously carvedcapitals Ithadalittlenavewithintercommunicatingsidechapels,like aisles Overthedoorwasasmallloftcontainingtheorgan,theobjectof Ippolito’svisit Intheunevenfloortherewereslabswithdeepcutbutmuch wornfiguresofknightsandprelatesinstiffarmourorlongandequallystiff lookingrobes,theirheadssurroundedbyalmostillegibleinscriptions Overthe principalaltartherewasabadpaintingofSaintVittoria,halfcoveredwith exvotoofferingsofsilverhearts,whileoneachsideofthepicturewerehungup scoresofhollowwaxmodelsofarms,legs,andotherpartsofthehumanbody, realisticallycoloured,allremembrancesofrecoveriesfromillness,accident,and disease,attributedtothebeneficentinterventionofthesaint Butabove,inthe littlevaultoftheapse,thereweresomeveryancientandwellpreservedmosaics, magnificentlyrichintone Therewas,ofcourse,nodome,andthedimlight cameinthroughlowwindowshighupinthenave,abovethelowersidechapels Thechurchwascleanandwellkept,andoneachsidetherewerehalfadozen benchespaintedwithavividsky-bluecolour Thetwobrotherslookedabout,withsomecuriosity,whilethefatsacristan slowlyjingledhisbunchofkeysagainsthisleg “Herethedeadwalkatnight,”heobserved,cheerfully,asthetwoyoungmen cameuptohim “Whatdoyoumean?”askedOrsino,whohadbeenmuchamusedbytheman’s conversation “TheoldPagliucawalk Ihaveseentheirsoulsrunningaboutthefloorinthe dark,likelittlecandleflames Alittlemore,andIshouldhaveseentheirbodies, too,butIranaway Soulofmymother!Iwasfrightened Itwasontheeveof SantaVittoria,fiveyearsago Thecandlesforthefestivalhadnotcome,though wehadwaitedalldayforthecarrierfromPiedimonte Thenhecameatdark,for hehadmetafriendinLinguaglossa,andhewasadrunkard,andthewinewas new,sohesleptonhiscartalltheway,anditwasbythegraceoftheMadonna thathedidnotrolloffintotheditch ButIconsideredthatitwaslate,andthat theofficebeganearlyinthemorning,andthatmanystrangerscamefromBronte andthehillvillagetoourfesta,andthatitwouldbeascandaliftheyfoundus stilldressingthechurchinthemorning SoItooktheboxofcandlesonmyback andcamehere,notthinkingtobringalantern,becausethereisalwaysthelamp beforethealtarwherethesaint’sbonesare Doyouunderstand?“ “Perfectly ButwhataboutthePagliuca?”“Mybrothersaid,‘Youwillseethe Pagliuca’foreveryonesaysit ButIhadalaughathim,forIthoughtthatadead maninhisgravemustbeasquietasahandkerchiefinadrawer SoIcame,andI unlockedthedoor,thinkingaboutthefestival,andIcamein,meaningtotakea candlefromtheboxandlightitatthealtarlamp,sothatImightseewelltostick theothersintothecandlesticks Buttherewastheflameofacaudleburningon thefloor ItranawayfrommeasIcamein,andothersranafterit,androundand roundit ThenIknewthatIsawthesoulsoftheoldPagliuca,andIsaidto myselfthatpresentlyIshouldseealsotheirbodiesanevilthing,fortheyhave beenlongdead ThenImadeamovementwhoknowshowIdid?Idroppedthe boxandIhearditbreak,andallthecandlesrolledoutuponthefloorasthough thedeadPagliucawererattlingtheirbones ButIcountedneitheronenortwo, butjumpedoutintotheroadwithonejump SantaVittoriahelpedme;andit wasabrightmoonlightnight,butasIshutthedoor,Icouldseethesoulsofthe Pagliucajumpingupanddownonthepavement Isaidwithinme,whenthe deaddance,thelivinggohome Andmyfacewaswhite WhenIcamehome, mybrothersaid,‘YouhaveseenthePagliuca.’AndIsaid,‘Ihaveseenthem.’ Thenhegavemesomerum,andIlayinacoldsweattillmorning Fromthat timeIwillnotcomehereatnight Butinthedaytime,itisdifferent.” OrsinoandIppolitoknewwellenoughthatinoldItalianchurches,wheremany deadareburiedunderthepavement,itisnotanuncommonthingtoseeawillo’-the-wispatnight Butinthedimlittlechurch,withthedeadPagliucalying undertheirfeet,therewassomethinggruesomeabouttheman’sgraphicstory, andtheydidnotlaugh “Letushopethatwemaynotseeanyghosts,”saidOrsino “Amen,”answeredthesacristan,devoutly “Thatistheorgan,”hesaid,pointing totheloft Heledtheway Ononesideoftheentranceasmallarcheddoorgaveaccesstoa narrowwindingstaircaseinthethicknessofthewall,lightedbynarrowslits openingtotheair Thoughthelofthadnotappearedtobeveryhighabovethe pavement,thestaircaseseemedverylong Atlastthethreeemergeduponthe boardedfloor,atthebackoftheinstrument,wherefourgreasy,knottedropes hungoutofwornholesinthecrackedwood Therosewindowoverthedoorof thechurchthrewabrightlightintothelittleforestofdustywoodenandmetal pipesabove Theropeswereforworkingtheoldfashionedbellows Ippolito wentroundandtookthethindealcoverfromthekeyboard Hewassurprisedto findadoublebankofkeys,andanoctaveandahalfofpedals,whichisvery uncommonincountryorgans Hewasfurtherunpreparedtoseethenameofa oncefamousmakerinNaplesjustabovethekeys,butwhenhelookeduphe understood,foronagildedscroll,supportedbytworicketycherubsabovehis head,hereadthenameofthedonor ‘FERDIXAXDUSPALIUCAPRIXCEPSCOBLEONIS COMESSAXCTAEVICTORIAESICULUSDOXAVIT A.D MDCCCXXI.’ Theinstrumentwas,therefore,thegiftofaFerdinandoPagliuca,Princeof Corleone,CountofSantaVittoria,probablyofoneofthosePagliucawhose soulsthefatsacristanbelievedhehadseen‘jumpingupanddownonthe pavement.’ Thesacristantuggedattheropesthatmovedthebellows Ippolitodustedthe benchoverwhichhehadleanedtouncoverthekeys,slippedin,swinginghis feetoverthepedals,pulledouttwoorthreestops,a.ndstruckachord Thetonewasnotbad,andhadinitsomeofthatrichnesswhichonlyoldorgans aresupposedtopossess,likeoldviolins Hebegantopreludesoftly,andthen, onebyone,hetriedtheotherstops Somewerefair,butsomewerebadlyoutof tune Thecornopeanbrayedhideously,andthehautboymadecuriousbuzzing sounds Ippolitopromisedhimselfthathewouldsetthewholeinstrumentin orderinthecourseofafortnight,andwasdelightedwithhisdiscovery Whenhe hadfinished,thefatsacristancameoutfrombehind,moppinghisforeheadwith abluecottonhandkerchief “Capers!”heexclaimed “Youareaprofessor IfDonGiacomohearsyou,he willdieofenvy.” “WhoisDonGiacomo?” “Eh,DonGiacomo!Heisthepostmasterandthetelegrapher,andheplaysthe oldorganinthebigchurchonSundays Butwhenthereisthefestivalhere,a professorcomestoplaythisone,fromCatania Buthecannotplayasyoudo.” OrsinohadgonedownagainintothechurchwhileIppolitohadbeenplaying Theyfoundhimbendingverylowoveraninscriptiononaslabnearthealtar steps “Thereisacuriousinscriptionhere,”hesaid,withoutlookingup “Icannotquite readit,butitseemstomethatIseeournameinit Itwouldbestrangeifoneof ourfamilyhadchancedtodieandbeburiedhere,agesago.” Ippolitobentdown,too,tillhisheadtouchedhisbrother’s “ItisnotLatin,”hesaidpresently “ItlookslikeItalian.” Thefatsacristanjingledhiskeysratherimpatiently,foritwasgrowinglate “Withouttroublingyourselvestoreadit,youmayknowwhatitis,”hesaid “Itis theoldprophecyaboutthePagliuca Whenthedeadwalkhereatnighttheyread it Itsays,‘EscaPagliucapescaSaracen.’Butitgoesroundacirclelikeadisk, sothatyoucanreadit,‘SaracenescaPagliucapesca‘either,LetPagliucago out,theSaracenisfishing,or,LettheSaracengoout,Pagliucaisfishing.” ”’OrSaracinescaPagliucapesca‘SaracinescafishesforPagliuca,”saidIppolito toOrsino,withalaughathisowningenuity “Whoknowswhatitmeans!”exclaimedthesacristan “Buttheysaythatwhenit comestrue,thelastCorleoneshalldieandthePagliucad’Orianishallend But whethertheyendornot,theywillwalkheretilltheLastJudgment Signori,the twilightdescends IfyoudonotwishtoseethePagliuca,letusgo Butifyou wishtoseethem,herearethekeys Youarethemasters,butIgohome Thisis anevilplaceatnight.” Themanwasgrowingnervous,andmovedawaytowardsthedoor Thetwo brothersfollowedhim “Theplaceisconsecrated,”saidIppolito,astheyreachedtheentrance “What shouldyoubeafraidof?” “SantaVittoriaisallalonehere,”answeredtheman,“andthePagliucaaremore thanfifty,whentheycomeoutandwalk WhatshouldapoorChristiando?Heis betterathome,withapipeoftobacco.” Thesunhadsetwhentheyallcameoutupontheroad,andtheafterglowwas purpleonthesnowofEtna ENDOFVOL I ... uniform Asfortheirprovisions,whentheirfriendsdonotsupplythem,they takewhattheyneedwherevertheyfindit,chieflybyintimidating the peasants In the thirdmattertheyhavelargeviews... In the ordinarycourseofevents,beingof the south, the threesonsaswellas theirfatherandmotherwouldhaveeachborneadistinctivetitle Corleone, however,hadbegunlifebyquarrellingwithhisyoungerbrother;andwhen the. .. mightnothavebeenmuchdifferencehadtheirunclebeengeneroustothem, insteadofatoncetransferringandcontinuingtothemhishatredoftheirfather Butastheywereplaced,andwiththeircharacters, the resultwasinevitable
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