Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1885-09-18
A VENDETTA.


city, built upon a projection of the
mountain, and even hanging directly
above the sea in some places, commands,
across the strait that bristles with rocks,
good view of the lowest portion OF the
Sandman coast. At its feet, on the other
side, but almost flanking il entirely, an
opening in the cliff shaped like 4 gigan-
tic corridor serves it for a port, enabling
the little Italian or Sardiniau fishing
smacks to advance to the first line OF
houses, after long circuit between two
abrupt walls. And every fifteen days
comes the old wheezy steamboat which
plies between the town and Ajaccia.
Upon the white mountain the mass OF
houses make still whittier stain. They
seem like nests of wild birds attached to
the rock, and overlooking the terrible
passage into which vessels never ven-
ture. Without repose the wind labors
the sea, labors the naked coast, which
it gnaws forever, and which has scarce
ly acovering Of green-it rushes into
the narrow detroit, ravaging either
shore. The long trails Of white foam,
clinging to the points of the countless
rocks which pierce the water every
where, have the aspect of tatters of
clothes floating and quivering Oh the
surface.
The house of the widow Saverini,
perched upon the very edge of the cliff,
as if soldered there, opened its three
windows to the wild and desolate hori-
zon.
She lived there all alone with her son
and their dog Allegro-a great, gaunt
beast with long, bristling hair, of sheep
dog breed. The dog aided the young
man in hunting.
One evening, after quarrel, Antonio
Saverini was treacherously killed-with
a single knife-thrust-by Nicolo Ravo-
lati, who, the same night, fled to Sar-
dinia.
When the old mother received the
corpse of her child, that some passers-
by had found and carried to her, she
did not weep at all, but remained for a
long time motionless, staring at the
body; then, stretching out her wrink-
led hand over the body, she proclaimed
a vendetta. She would not allow any
one to remain with her, and she shut
herself up alone with the dog, which
howled. The brute howled continuous
ly. standing up with his forepaws OH
the edge of the bed, turning his head
toward his masters face, and keeping
his tail between his legs. There he re-
mained, motionless as the mother, who
now, bending over the corpse, contem-
plated it with fixed stare, while great,
dumb tears rolled down her cheeks.
Lying on his back at full length, still
wearing his great coarse jacket, torn
and pierced at the breast, the youth
seemed to sleep; but his blood was ev-
erywhere-on the shirt that had been
torn open when the first attempt at aid
was made, on his vest, on his trousers,
on his face, OH his hands. Gouts of
blood had thickened in his beard and
hair.
The old mother began to speak to him.
At the sound of her voice the dog ceased
to howl.
Never mind, never mind! Thou wilt
be avenged, my little one, my own boy,
my poor dear child. Sleep! Sleep! thou
wilt be avenged; dost hearg 1t is moth:
er who promised this to thee; and she
always keeps her word, mother does J"
And she bent down slowly over him,
pressing her lips upon the cold, dead
lips.
Then Allegro again began to howl.
He uttered Il long monotonous plant,
piercing, horrible.
The two remained there until morn
ing-the woman and the animal.
Antonio Saverini was buried next
morning; and folks soon ceased to speak
of him in Bonnifacio.
He had left no brother, nor even any
near cousins. There was no man 10
pursue the vendetta. The old woman
only thought ofit-the old mother.
From morning till night she watched
a white speck cleaning across the strait
ON the low shore beyond. 1t was the
little Sandman village, Longo- Sardo,
whittier Corsican bandits still fly for
refuge when too closely pursued. They
alone constitute almost the entire popu-
lation of the hamlet, fronting the coast
of their own fatherland; and they wait
there for the chance to return TO the
mountain thickets. She knew il was in
that village that Nicolo Ravolati was
hiding.
All day long. while sitting alone at
her window, she looked across the
water, pondering vengeance. But what
was she to do without any man to aid
a weak old woman, with one foot in the
grave: Nevertheless she had promised
she had sworn upon the corpse. She
could not forget-she could not wait.
What was she to do?
She could not sleep at night for think
ing of it-she could neither rest nor find
peace of mind; she thought and planned
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