Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1893-11-16

When she heard Maso ON the road,
J talking to his mules. content because
| he had earned two tart more than
, usual, Bibiana ran out and said SO
| much that she induced him to swear
would make known what she had done,
for she had acted for the best, she
| had acted. And if the signOr barone
| had had the displeasure of that poor
| little one, who knows that he would
not have sent to demand the rent that
was due, and the sheriff would have
made the pignoramento, and left them
| in the middle of the road, she admon-
ished Maso.
/ SO because, in fact, what is done is
done, and also Il lite because Of the
! thought that his own blood was gone
to riches and honor, compare Maso gave
himself peace about it and kept silence.
| NeighbOrs they had none; if they
wished to bargain or hear the news,
it was necessary to go to the village,
an hour distant SO the misdeed of
comare Bibiana was not suspected.
She had, however, the punishment
for it. If MasO came home at evening
and sat mute because of hunger or
WEAKNESS, Bibiana believed that he
was thinking of the child that she
robbed from him to give to the baron.
Between the pair there were reproach-
es and gloom; sometimes they quarrel
ed. and Maso raised his hand against
his wife. One day he came in haste
to tie up his bundle, for he was going
with cousin Vito Bacigalupo, and some
others, down there to America; and
be gave to Bibiana half of the price
for with he had sold the mules and
the cart. After that, no more was ever
heard of him.
All this Cirillo learned for the first
time when mamma Bibiana died. They
had lived together on mountain, low
ing each other even more than is
usual between mother and son: they
were, indeed, as is the saying, two
souls in one hazel-nut Cirillo at fifteen
years was grown strong like the twist
ed Olive-tree, which yet withstands all
Weathers as Heaven sends; his long
meager arms were never tired, and
on his bent shoulders he could carry
a load like a donkey. He worked here
and there, wherever he wanted; mann
ma Bibiana had been i'll for some time;
now, he told her. it was his turn to
support her. One rainy evening he
came home, after a week that he had
craWled on hands and knees in the
mud gathering the olives of massaro
Giovanni Volpintesta, who haggled
over the few soldi paid to those that
worked in that cold and mire-and
found mamma Bibiana crouching by
the hearth, with a kerchief on her head.
Eat" she told him; "there is the
mineStra in the dish on the fire. AS
for me, Pm going to bed, for [ have
round my head like an iron hoop
In the heart Of the night Cirillo
awOlle, frightened; he wanted to see
his mother. He went down from the
loft, where he slept, fiuttering the
hens that roasted on the ladder, and
CROPPED toward the bedside of Bibiana
He lit the oil lamp, and by that feeble
light saw her face sharp and changed.
Mamma, mammal he cried, and
would have run for Don Giuseppe to
bring the Lord into the house, but
Bibiana grasped his hands. And you
stay here" she told him, 1T is to you
that l have to confess, for | have done
you a wrong"
And, in short, she told him how he,
and not Don Corradino, was the son
of the baron. She wept, pressing his
hands to her breast; but he answered:
And who but you, mamma, would
have loved me that am so ugly?"
She told him everything-as he in
his turn, fifteen years later, told it
to Don Giuseppe. She recommended
him to forgive Maso, too, in case he
ever returned from America. and
you, CiGillo, stay here in Calabria.
land blessed of the Lord, where even
the stones are like so many friends,
and there is Il Christian people that
will not let you lack bread if you keep
yourself honest For this idea of Ameri-
ca is like the morgana that is told
of by sailors; there are palaces as if
let down from Paradise, but they are
in the clouds, and while you look they
melt, and who has seen them, has seen
them. But you, Cirillo, stay here. And
If ever you wish to claim your right,
q witness to the truth can be Don Lrlca
Vitale, who saw you born, and must
know that the baron's son had Il birth
mark on the right thigh, palms
breadth above the knee
Then she began to mutter, turning
her head from side to side on the husl<
pallet, clasping Cirillo's hand. Finally
her fingers twitched and relaxed.
Mamma Bibiana was dead. Cirillo, to
let her soul pass, flung open the shut
tiers of the window, where the dawn
began to show The cock crowed on
the Straw-rick. Cirillo wept because
the mamma was dead, and even more
! because she was not truly his mother,
! but, instead, that baroness whom he
again. That cock sings to remind me
! of st. Peter; no, and then no, I will
never deny that good soul that was
my mother more than she of whom l
was bornr'
The cock croWed the third time.
Cirillo raised his hand is if before a
justice: Il swear it to you, mammar'
Because the illness of Bibiana had
eaten up the little savings, Cirillo had
to give up all the goods to pay what
was on the books of MAESTRO Gaetano
and for the funeral Of mamma Bibiana