The sea coast echo. [volume] (Bay Saint Louis, Miss.) 1892-current, 1893-08-26

~ e.M been built on
the spur of a
mountain, and hung in places far above
the sea, overlooking the narrows
bristling with cliffs, on the lower side
OF Sardinia. At its feet, on the other
side, almost entirely surrounding it, a
line of cliffs which resembled a gigan-
tic corridor did service as harbor, and
led up to the first houses of the town
alter long circuitous route between
two straight walls. This harbor was
used by the little italian and Sandman
fishing crafts, and by the old painting
steamer which brought the mails from
Ajaccio.
The white mountain side was thick
with houses, even neater than that OF
the widow. They looked like the nests
ssof savage birds perched on high, over
looking the dangerous defile that nc
boats dared approach. The wind blows
necessarily there, furiously lashing the
sea and the bare coast. The pillows
rush into the narrow strait and ravage
Its shores. Tracks of white foam
pierced by the dark spots of the in
Vulnerable rocks which rise above the
waves. look like linen shreds floating
and dancing on the surface of the
water.
The widow Saverini's house was sit
uated on the edge of the cliff, its three
small windows facing the wild and des-
solate horizon. She lived there all alone
with her son Antonio and her dog Sem
sillante, a large thin animal with long
shaggy hair, not unlike a shepherds
dog. The young man used it when
hunting.
One evening, in broil Antonio Saw
erini was stabbed to death by Nicolas
Rayolati, who on the same night es-
capped to the Sandman side. When the
old mother beheld the corpse of her
son, which passers-by carried to her
door, she uttered no cry. but gazed at
itwithout a twitch of the muscles OF
her face. Then, laying her shriveled
hand on the dead body of her child,
she vowed to avenge his murder. She
sent them all away, and locked herself
up with the corpse and the dog, who
howled incessantly as it lay by the
foot of the bed, its head turned upon its
dead masters face, and it's tail between
Its legs. There it stayed all night with
the mother. who leaned over the life
less body of her son with staring ewes
from which the tears ran slowly.
Lying fiat on his back, with his waist.
coat pierced and torn at the breast, the
young man seemed to be asleep. Blood
stained the shirt torn open to stanch
the wound, the waistcoat and the trou-
sers, as well as his face and hands.
Bloodclots hung in his beard and in his
hair.
! The old mother began to talk into
the deafened ears; and when it heard
her voice the dog stopped barking.
Never mind. Thou shalt be avenged,
my babe, my boy, my poor child!
Sleep; sleep on; thou shalt he avenged
S-dost thou hear? Thy mother prom
ises, and she has always kept her word;
thou knowest it we'll"
She bent over him and pressed her
cold lips to his dead ones Semillante
resumed her moan--a terrible, heart
rending moan. They remained together
beside the corpse until morning, mother
and dog.
On the following day Antonio Saver
ini was buried, and the murder was
soon forgotten by the good speople of
Bonifacio
The murdered man had left behind
him neither brother nor near kinsmen.
Nobody thought to avenge his death;
only the old mother remembered. She
watched, from morning until night, a
little white spot on the banks of the
other side of the straits. 1t is a
Sandman village, called Longosardo,
and has long been a refuge for Corsican
bandits who find themselves closely
pursued. They inhabit the hamlet al
most exclusively, which is in plain view
Of their native land, awaiting only the
moment when they can safely return
The old mother knew that Nicolas
Ravolati had fed to this village.
Day after day she sat by the window
nnd brooded over her vendetta. What
could she do, without assistance, infirm
and near the end of her days? But she
had given an oath bound promise to
her dead child which she could not for
get, and she had not much time to wait