The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1899-03-12
CHAPTER LII

only a man who has lain bound for days
together in the depths of a dark and foetid
cavern can thoroughly appreciate the bless
ing of fresh air and the use of his legs, and
as the morning sun shone on the dirty little
italian town it seemed TO me the most beau
tiful place in the world simply because 1
was at liberty to stroll through its tortuous
streets and to mingle in the clamorous, ges-
ticulating crowd gathered in its market
place.
News had gone abroad that Lorenzo
Trecchi, the notorious brgand, had been
captured at last and that summary justice
was to be melted out to him for his misdeeds.
A kind of horrible fascination drew me to
the spot, and as yet 1 hardly realized what
was about to happen-that a human being
was to surrender his soul to the mysteri-
Gus hereafter in the presence of gaping, vul-
gar curiosity and to make an exhibition of
his death agony for the eager eyes of hun
dreds of his felow-creatures.
moon was approaching, and the heat was
already almost unbearable, when platoon
of soldiers marched into the space already
guarded from the multitude for fear of a
rescue, and the prisoner was brought forth
and placed some yards in front of them.
AhN DAASoAlu appear dH(c v DIS. WIFI anu
haggard. He held his head high. and trod
with some dignity, while his eyes roved
fiercely over the crowd as if in search of his
betrayer, for even at that solemn moment
he would have plunged his knife into an enc
my's breast with something approaching to
triumph had he been able to do so.
There a murmur of voices and ex-
carnations as women stood on tiptoe and
1I11I1
of the famous brigand; then there was a
sudden silence. A priest had stepped for
ward and offered the crucifix to the lips of
Lorenzo Trecchi, who kissed it with the
mechanical devotion of an Italian peasant,
endeavoring at the same time to make the
accustomed sign of the cross. A look of sud-
den and terrible rage swept across his dark
countenancc as he realized his own helpless
ness, for his arms were securely pinioned
and the action he had attempted was impos-
sible
All at once the sonorous chanting of the
priest arose above the heads of the kneel-
ing crowd. He was praying for the soul
which had erred on earth, and was about
to be committed to the purifying pains of
purgatory. His deep, rolling accents rose
into the blue sky, and were echoed back
from the decaying, picturesque buildings
which jutted out on each side of
the old market place and frowned down on
a scene they had not been unaccustomed
to witness in the old days of the middle
ages. Only the uniforms of the soldiery
Were changed. the people seemed much the
same as their forefathers, who had prayed
and wept, sung and laughed on the self
same spot in bygone times.
But in all that immense kneeling crowd
was one figure which stood erect, rigid as
stone. gazing at the prisoner 1t was a wom-
sionless. immovable-only I'm the cavernous
eyes burned a fire that seemed to antici-
pate the tortures of hell for the doomed man
as his glance was slowly but surely drawn
in that direction. Teresina stood like q
statue of avenging fate. her dead babe
clasped to her bosom. and Lorenzo Trecchi
gazing at her knew how 1t was he came at
last to die. She had betrayed him.
THE priest had ceased to pray, and the
people rose from their knees. In a second
a bandage was passed across the brigand's
eyes Then there was a sharp word OF COM
mand a rattle OF musketry, and the mag
nificent form of Lorenzo Trecchi fell lifeless
to the ground.
"A sigh went up from the crowd and then
their tongues were once more let loose, busy
weaving southern halo of romance round
the chronicle of bold deeds done by one
who was now no more than name.
And how did Teresina come to be my
model? All, well. poor woman. things went
hardlyesnough. With her after the bdsand's