Evening star., 1897-01-16
MARIA PERRON E
MURDERESS AND SAINT.
BY S. R. CROCKETT.

Copyright. 1897. hy s. r. Crocksct)
Written for the Evening Star.
1t was the year after We of Italy had
final quittance of the Austrians and their
cursed yellow and black. / had just been
made a generaI-younger by twenty years
than they make generals nowadays. but,
though / say it, with deal more expert
ence in fighting. / diplomat then,
nor had any thoughts of sitting in coun-
ell as minister of war. But, nevertheless,
/ was a young general, still unmarried,
and clad in the cavalry light blue and
scarlet. with great silver spurs, which Is
the most becoming of all uniforms; and
in consequence of all this 1 was well
enough pleased with myself.
There in that year little fighting
save of the dangerous, ungracious sort
which consists in securing the country
side after brigands of ones own race and
bringing them to the market place of a
convenient town to be tried and shot by
squads. Pah, the work. though necessary
enough. left an i'll taste in my mouth after
Montana and Solferino, and, what was
best of all, clearing Sicily with Garibaldis
redshirts.
After the government had quilted
Apulia and generally polished up the heel
of the boot, for my sins they made me
inspector of prisons. and a dreary job it
was. 1t was like this:
a bowling, obsequous syndic. a speech of
welcome. a meal fowl drowned in rice and
Sleeps fat, but mere bootlaces when you
got at the bird, bad olives worse wine,
and more speeches. Then came fly
blown town hall, malodOrous prison. from
which Sir Syndic tried all his arts to de-
tain the general inspector as long as pos
sible. Then there were the usual prisoners
petty larceners mostly, the great ones be-
ing engaged in filling syndic's chairs, a
stray brigand or two. lambs thrown to
the wolves to save their more clever COM
rades. But all. brigand, brawler. drunk
ard. jaier. syndic. had each their own
complaint to make, to which at first used
TO listen patiently.
They were innocent-all innocent. The
holy Virgin knew it, the blessed saint, too,
and would one day make 1t plain. And
then-ah, then, the false witnesses against
the guitless would have conviction brought
home to them-with a knife presumably.
All. all was the same-dull repetition, hateful
TO one who loved the camp and the fierce
light which CLEANS along the fighting line,
when each man IS going in to strike till he
dies for your fatherland. But i forget: you
happy islanders have never been trodden
down for centuries, never seen the tyrant's
flag faunt hatefully from your fortresses
and set up on festal days in your squares
And now, after the deliverance, |, who had
fought without being shamed. was sent
with the escort of a subaltern TO inspect
prisons. | heard afterward that some one
high in authority considered me a young
cock whose comb would not be the worse
for cutting. But it was cursedly dull work.
Nothing new, nothing Interesting, not so
much as a pretty girl crossed my path
within arms length l worked my way
southwark along the eastern sea eaboard-syn-
dies speeches, garbage plates. inno-
cents in prison. so the dreary procession
passed hy. till one day ! came to Atrani
No, that is not its ancient and distinguished
name, but it Will serve.
Then in the first ward of the prison I saw
a face and | heard voice which, though
hundred years old. / shall not forget.
The warder opened a door, he opened
all the others. and with sharp word called
to attention woman who stood up
straight. looking deep into my eyes The
light fell upon her through the high barred
window. Her hands were clasped in front
of her. Her tall. 1.-THE figure showed round
ed and graceful. even through the sack-like
prison habit. Darkly passionate. storrnily
moist, blue black. like the thunder cloud
striding the Gulf of laramie up from the
Mediterranean. so seemed to me the eyes
OF the woman who stood before me-
Maria Perrrone. wife of Leo Perrone,
br1gand. for murder in the second degreer'
announced the warder saluting with a
face like mask.
Whom did she murder?' / asked of him
quickly.
zone Giovanni Lupo, a soldier of the
country militia of her own province"
1 looked keenly at the woman whose
dark eyes had never swerved a moment
door revealed her to me-
Are you innocent of the crime?'' / asked
her. expecting the usual denial.
Il killed the mani she replied impas-
siyely, standing like an angel carved In the
niche of duomo.
l turned TO the jailer.
ere there any extenuating circum-
stances?' 1 asked of him. She does not
look ike murderess.''
1T IS said that the soldier insulted her
that her husband entered and attempted
10 interfere, whereupon the soldier had the
best of 1t, and when he had overcome the
man, the wife this Maria Perrone, stabbed
him to the heart
That is a lie" said the woman, calmly,
without any manifestation of heat no
man who lives could overcome Leo Per-
rome, my husband,''
The warder shrugged his shoulders.
Thus she answers ever" he said, but
indeed. as L have heard. there was some
word that it was Leo Perrone himself
who"
The veil of indifference dropped instanta-
neously from the face of the woman. Her
eyes blazed yellow fire. She clutched the
palms OF her hands, driving her long finger
nails into them. Every moment she seemed
TO be about to spring upon the warder.
Gently. gently. Maria Perrone," l said
T.F1r- fytgg FIr