Idaho news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1887-1891, 1891-03-28


tain, seeming in places to hang sus
pended over the sea, faced across
narrow channel that bristled with
Jagged rocks, the lower coast OF Sar-
DINA. At its feet cut in the cliff, like
a gigantic corridor, leading between
precipitious walls up almost to the
first houses, serves as n port for the
Italian and Sandman tishing-boats,
and, twice n month, for the wheezy
old steamer from Ajaccio.
On the white mountain side the
group of houses make spot yet
more white. They look like the
nests oil wild birds, clinging TO the
rocks and looking down upon the
terrible passage where few vessels
dare venture The wind ceaselessly
lashes the waves and beats upon the
rocks, which it has stripped Of YER
dure. The patches OF white foam
above the black points OF innumer,
able rocks that pierce the waves
everywhere look like strips of cloth,
floating and palpitating on the sur
face of the water.
The house of the widow Sayerini,
set upon the very edge OF the cliff,
has three windows that give light
upon this savage and desolate scene.
She lived, there alone, with her son An
tome and their dog Brisk, big,
gaunt brute, with long, shaggy hair,
which accompanied Antoine on his
hunting-trips.
One evening, after a dispute, An.
tome Saverini was killed with q
treacherous kniie-thrust by Nicolas
Ravolati, who fled that night to Sar-
dinia.
When the old mother received the
| body nf her son, which some neigh.
bors brought to her, she did not cry,
but remained for long time staring
at it motionless; then, extending her
wrinkled hand above the corpse, she
pledged to il the vendetta
She wanted no neighbor5 TO sit M
with her. and shut herself az with
her dead, keeping with her only
the dog, which howled dolefully.
Crouched at the foot of the bed, with
it's head toward it's masters body
and it's tail pressed between its legs
the brute howled long and shrill,
while the mother, leaning with fixed
gaze over the corpse, wept silent
| tears.
The young man, lying on his back,
his heavy cloth vest gaping and torn
at the chest, seemed to be sleeping:
but he was covered with bIood-on
his throat, on his trousers, on his
face, on his hands Clots of blood
matted his hair and his beard.
The old woman began to speak.
At the sound of her voice the dog
was stilled.
Go, 70 in peace. You shall be
avenged, my little one, my boy.
Sleep, sleep in peace. You shall be
avenged, do you hear2 Your moth
er promises it; and your mother A.
ways keeps her word, "a you we'll
know" And gently she leaned for
ward and pressed her cold lips to the
dead face.
Then Brisk began to whine with n
monotonous, henrtrending, terrible
sound.
They remained thus, the woman
and the dog, until morning.
Antoine Saverini was buried the
next day, and soon his name was
heard no more in Bonifacio.
He had lett neither brothers nor
/ n NJ, A
take up the vendetta. The mother
alone thought OF il. day and night
Across the strait she saw, from
morning to night, white spot on
the coast. 1t was o little villnge.
Longosardo, whore the Corsican
bandits took refuge when hard
pressed. They we're almost the on
~ inhabitants of the hamlet, and
there, in sight Of their native land,
they awaited the moment when they
could return to the makis of Corsica.
In this village she knew Nicolas Raw
olati had hidden himself.
All day long would she sit alone
by lTer window, brooding on her
vengeance. How could she accom-
plish IL, aloae, infrm, almost at
death'sdoor? Butshe had promised,
she had sworn on the dead body.
She could not forget, she could not
wait. What should she do? She no
longer slept at night, she no longer
knew rest nor respite, she thought
always, seeking n means. The dog
slept at her feet, low and again rails.
ing its head to howl mourDfuIly.
Since it's master was no longer there,
it often howled thus, as il it would
have called him, as its brute's soul
cherished memory that nothing
could efface.
But one night, as Brisk resumed
| iAr Ilrr hauling tho nathan hnd a