The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1899-09-06

! were taking TO du OUStludtc Cuiiu. 1AC
was not altogether displeased at Sera-
fino's stubbornness, since, in the argu-
ment. Seratinos wife seemed likely to
| be forgotten.
.'The two men were found dead upon
the hillside" he said. "Both were shot
in the back. Angelo was q gendarme
and is excused by his duty, though I
do not say he should not rather have
tried to capture Giammarchi. 1t was
evident, however, that Giammarchi
was escaping. A few yards would have
brought him into the safety Of the
woods, and so Angelo shot him."
Seraino nodded his head, agreeing so
far.
"But Angelo was shot too. He also
was shot in the back. Therefore he
was turning away down the hillside to
ioin his fellows Giammarchi can only
have been wounded and shot Angelo
before he died"
"Who shall prove that?' again asked
Serafino.
"There was no witness, it is true"
said the priest, "but there needs none,
for nm exploded cartridge was in the
barrel Of Giammarchi's rifle. 1t is proof
enough"
Serafino looked for a long while at
the priest.
"But what if there was witness"
he said slowly. Then he turned again
to the window and exclaimed ab-
ruptly, "Angelo Montalti died a dogs
death as he deserved, and Carlo Clam
marchi kept the oath he swore."
After he had spoken there was si-
ience. The old priests object had at
all events been secured, for both men
had clean forgotten Serafno's wife.
Joseph stared out Of the window. The
priest stared at the wine in his glass.
At last the priest spoke timidly:
81 do not understand, my son."
Serafino made no movement, but an
swered in musing voice as he looked
out up to the mountains and the ma
uui Of trees and shrubs which clothed
the mountain fanks.
"Why should not tell you? For ten
years Giammarchi's memory has lain
under this reproach, and he was my
friend. AS for myself, would just as
soon live among the hills"
He called the priest to his side and
pointed across the square to the large
house at the corner.
"There Carlo Giammarchi lived 20
years ago. Twenty years ago-it was
lust such another summer evening as
this, father-I was at supper with Car
10 in that house, when the. news was
brought that old Montalti, Angeles
father, had stabbed Giammarchi's son
in tavern at Calvi. Carlo leaned his
head on his hands and said not SIN
gle word. Carlo was so; only 25, so
kept silence too. After awhile Carlo
got up very softly from his chair and
took his rifle. Then as softly he went
out of the house and took the road up
past Belgodere to the Col Colombano,
where two days afterward he fell in
with Montalti and shot linn through
the lungs. Carlo took refuge In the
maaui about Mount Padro and so liv-
ed securely for the next ten years.
Montalt.. however, left behind him
sister of mis- own age and son, An
gelo, who was IA years old when his
father died. Have you not seen them.
father, walking together by the sea,
among the orange trees, among the
olives, the sister always talking, the
boy listening? Angelo learned but one
lesson during those ten years while
Carlo Giammarchi lay hid on Mount
Padro, and that lesson, that he must
ayenge his father. Not that blame
Montalti's sister," he added simply.
.:She only did her duty"
"Joseph," cried old Father Andrea,
lifting his hands in expostulation, do
you say that?'
Serafino laughed.
Eyes, even I. Say that my blood
claims me in the end. am no French
man. hate them, like any other Corsi-
can, for all my fine schooling at Ajac-
clio. Look, father, at the gendarmc
there. lounging on the bench before the
inn! I could dash my fists in his face
with the greatest good will. Angelo
turned gendarme. That's why he de-
served q dogs death, not because he
killed Carlo. Besides, he was a cur,"
and Serafino told the rest Of his story.
The old priest listened with frowning
face until Serafino stopped.
"And you have hidden this for ten
years % he said severely.
"I make it known now" said Sera-
fino, and at that the old mans severity
softened into sadness.
"True, my son." he said. '1t must
be made known now," and, with sigh,
he fetched a sheet Of paper and his
inkpot and set them before Serafino.
write" he said.
Serafno took the pen and wrote, and
this is what he wrote:
On the 18th day Of March ten years
ago, the night being wild and stormy,
Carlo Giammarchi came down from
Mount Padro to Isola Rosa and sup
ped with me, as he had often done be-
fore. He left my house an hour before
dawn. The next afternoon boy stop
ped me at my door and, asking wheth-
er was Joseph Serafino, thrust let
ter into my hand and ran off. The let
ter written by a friend Of Clam
march, informed me that Giammarchi
had been shot ut daybreak four miles
from the town. He now lay ut deaths
door and In sore need of q priest. /