The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1899-09-06
CARL O'S OATH,
How the Truth Came to Light
Through Scratched Face.
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i Through Scratched Face. ?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.
The old priest of Isola Rosa. stand
ing at his door in the cool Of the even
ing, saw Joseph Serafino stamp furi-
ously across the square. BE smiled
and called over his shoulder to the
crone who waited on him to get out
bottle Of Cap Corse wine from the cup
board, for Joseph carried his gun
slung across his shoulders. AS Joseph
drew nearer, however, the priests
smile changed into a frown, and he or
dered the woman to go down into the
cellar and fetch up bottle Of an older
vintage, for there were scratches upon
Joseph's face.
Serafno's wife was something OF q
shrew, as the priest was well aware,
since at times her tongue wore out her
husbands patience. and he would sling
his gun across his shoulders, stuff his
rockets with cartridges and hurry to
Father, Andrea's house in the square,
yowing that he would put up with this
dogs life no longer. The conversation
which followed was Of so invariable
kind and ended in so invariable re-
suit that the priest could anticipate it
with q smile. Serafino would call the
earth, the heaven above the earth and
the waters under the earth to witness
that he had done with houses and
streets ard hfs fellow men; that hence
forth he would live alone among the
chestnut forests of Mount Padro,
where mo- women's tongues clattered
and all the world was still. When
Serafno was tired Of talking, the
priest would persuade him to drink
last. bottle Of, wine before he went.
And, after the bottle was finished, the
old man would propose one last game
Of piQuet, which Joseph was allowed
to win, and after the game Of piquet
Joseph was led gently home.
Tonight, however, there were scratch
es upon Serafino's face, and so Father
Andrea ordered his best white wine,
which had lain 20 years in bottle. and
thanked the pope he was himself
celibate. A scratched face was a new
thing even in Seraf1no's experience,
and the priest wondered whether the
conversation tonight might not have
a different end. His wonder was JUS
tilted in the event.
"Am mayor Of Isola Rossa?" cried
Serafino. "Were my grandfathers cor
porals OF Corsica? Was taught at the
College of Ajaccio? Did I practice as
an advocate before I inherited my
landss And shall endure an eternal
click-clack Of abuse and-look, father!
"a woman's. finger nails?"
Serafno walked about the room, tug
ging with both hands at his great
beard. Except for the remark about
the finger nails the hara1lgue was
familiar enough, and the priest with
soothing word or two uncorked his
bottle Of wine.
But Serafno waved his hand.
mo, father; will not stay tonight"
and he turned to the. window end gaz-
ed upward to the olive slopes above
the village and above the olive slopes
to the thickets Of arbutus and myrtle
on the mountain sides.
'It has lain 20 years in the bottle,
my son. 1t comes from Luri," said
the priest as he poured out the wine,
holding the bottle high above the glass
es so that the splash might sink into
Serafinn's soul. But again Serafino
waved the wine aside.
"No, father; am going. Tonight /
sleep up there. I leave my lands to
my wife. but I will see no more Of
her"
This, too, was familiar to the priest,
who replied:
But you swore an oath, my son, to
your wife, and will you break it for
few cross words and slap Of the
hand? M good comes Of breaking
oaths." And, since Serafino remained
silent, he thought Of an instance.
"Cario Giammarchi broke his oath"
he said, 'and see what came Of it. He
perished miserably tea years ago, and
to this day his memory lies under re-
proach."
Then Serafino swung round from the
window.
"Giammarchi kept his OATH" he said
quietly.
''My son." the old man answered, In
an accent Of reproach. "you were with
me when he swore it. Have you for
gotten the little hut on Monte Cinerag-
gia, the man stretched on a few
branches for bed, and the oath he
swore to me, that If he recovered he
would never again lift hand OF weapon
against fellow manY
II have not forgotten. Giammarchi
kept that OATH"
The priest tapped gently with his
fingers on the table for little. Then,
as gently, he said:
'"That is not right, my son. Carlo
Giammarchi was your friend, know,
but it is.,not right on that account to
deny the truth. Giammarchi shot An
selo through the back"
WHO shall prove that?" asked Sera-
fino hluntly.
Tr,n r,.,oa+ eot down in q chair and