The Sully County watchman. (Clifton, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1894, 1892-10-22
A VENDETTA.


Paolo Saverini's widow lived alone
with her son in a miserable little house
on the ramparts of Bonifacio. The
city, built upon a projection of the
mountain, and even hanging directly
above the sea in some places, COM
mands, 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
tianking it entirely, an opening in the
cliff shaped like gigantic corridor
serves it for port, enabling the little
Italian or Sardinian fishing smacks to
advance to the first line of houses, af-
ter long circuit between two abrupt
walls: And every fifteen days comes
the old wheezy steamboat which plies
between the town and Aiaccio.
Upon the white mountain the mass
of houses make a still whittier stain.
They seem like nests of wild birds at
tached to the rock, and overlooking
the terrible passage into which vessels
never venture. Without repose the
wind labors the sea, labors the naked
coast, which it gnaws forever, and
which has scarcely covering of green
it rushes into the narrow detroit,
"ravaging either shore. Fhe long trails
of white foam, clinging to the points of
the countless rocks which pierce the
water everywhere, have the aspect of
tatters of clothes floating and CULVER
ing on the surface.
The house of the widow Saverni,
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 single knife-thrust--by Nicolo
Ravolati, who, the same night, fled to
Sardinia.
When the old mother received the
by had found and carried to her, she
did not weep at all, but remained for
long time motionless, staring at the
body; then, stretching out her wrink-
led hand over the body, she proclaim
ed vendetta. She would not allow
anyone to remain with her, and she
shut herself up alone with the dog,
which howled. The brute howled con-
tinuously, standing up with his fore
paws on the edge of the bed, turning
his head toward his masters face, and
keeping his tail between his legs.
There he remained, motionless as the
mother, who now, bending above the
corpse, contemplated it with a 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 you'll
seemed to sleep; but his blood was ev
erywhere-on the shirt, that had beer
torn open when the first attempt at aid
was made, on his vest, on his trousers
on his face, on his hands. Clots o
blood had thickened in his beard ant
hair.
The old mother began to speak tt
him. At the sound of her voice tn
dog ceased to howl.
Never mind, never mind! Thol
wilt be avenged, my little one, my owr
boy, my poor dear child. Sleep! sleep
Thou wilt be avenged; dost hear? L
is mother who promises this to thee
and she always keeps her word, mother
doesn
And she bent down slowly over him,
pressing her lips upon the cold, dead
lips.
Then Allegro again began to howl.
lie uttered 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 tc
speak Of him in Bonifacio.
He had left no brother, nor even any
near cousins. There was no man to
pursue the vendetta. The old woman
only thought of 1.-THE old mother.
From morning till night she watched
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
population of the hamlet, fronting the
coast u IuciT own latueilduu; ana LQey
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 wa
ter, 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