The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1908-04-29


at the flowers, suddenly calculates:
"Jove. how fresh their perfume and
plucked two days since"
But the lately cut flowers give no
warning to the sailor; he is too eager
now. Pausing at the little village of
Petra, Edwin steps into the inn to ask
some questions and hears news that
makes him frenzied.
The landlord, delighted at his lib
eral hand. tells him to avoid the com.
munal where the voting is going on.
The Lucchese' have got full of wine
and are having riot in that direction.
They are perfect devils, these fellows
from Lucca over across the sea that
Danella imported to work upon his
estates here"
Count Cipriano Danella has estates
here?' asks Edwin excitedly.
Yes, now it is Cipriano. Down to.
ward Cervione, where the cliffs run
into the sea, the only place where it is
not sickly and they have no lagoons.
You can know it by the Genoese watch
tower that was in ruins, but the count
some years ago had repaired and made
habitable''
ITS curious ! never heard anyone
mention Cipriano's properties here"
mutters the sailor.
"Oh, possibly not. Till fortnight
since, they belonged to Musso Danella.
the dead one, but Count Cipriano has
now taken possession of them"
He is there?"
Why, l think so. A boy who came
up the pass yesterday said the new
count had come there in vessel"
He is there at PRESENT."
Quite sure!" laughs the man. "Ci-
priano himself rode through here yes
terday escorting a lady with some of
his followers
Aha, in carriage driven by an old
Corsican?"
She was in carriage, but was not
driven by an old Corsican: a bow
whipped the horses
She was young and beautiful?"
My eyes are old, could not see
we'll, Signore. The carriage came rap
idly past me. three or four riding about
it. The lady looked as if she would
say some words; she rose almost as IL
to spring out, but something in the car
riage seemed to check her, and they
whipped up the horses. Oh, Signore,
how terrible you look!'
THE quickest way to Cipriano's
estates?" asked Anstruther hoarsely.
Down the road there. through the
forest, over two ranges of hills and his
land begins. But be careful how you
go that way; the Lucchese' are just
beyond the village. Hear them?
They are rioting now" as Neapolitan
outcries and Tuscan exercrations and
oaths and the rattle of stones are heard
further to the east. Best take by
path"
Edwin takes the road pointed out to
him; he wishes no delay with these
Italian workmen, whom, imported in
great numbers into the island, the Cor
sicans would probably butcher to
man did not their natural laziness
make them prefer to let the LUG
cheese" live and work for them.
But the by-path doesn't rid him en-
tirely of the "Lucchese." Just after
he has left the village he finds him.
self confronted by some hundred Ital-
ian workmen, who threateningly de-
mand drink money, and unfortunately
noting the cyclamen flower in the
sailors hand, the red being the color
of the candidate they do not favor,
they rush at him with appraised pitch
forks and scythes.
But the lieutenant, remembering Ma
poleon's recipe for mobs, pulls out his
pistol. Dodging one volley of stones,
some of which come dangerously near
to him, he dashes on, and there are
two wounded "Lucchese' as he rides
away-and three empty cylinders in
his revolver.
Here broken cyclamen branch
makes him forget all else, and riding
hurriedly, after some hours of noun
tain vistas. he reaches a little hill and
gazes at a view which causes him for
one moment to pause. The dark emer-
aid of the woods descending quite
rapidly. reaches the paler emerald of
the sunlit Tuscan sea.
Few sails are on the quiet waters
of the tropic sea, though sailing
fisher craft of some burden is an
chored off the shore.
But what holds most strongly the
hungry eye of Edwin Anstruther is
the foreground of this wondrous pic
ture.
Running into the gentle waves about
half mile from him is cliff, topped
by fairy green of foliage; upon it
stands ruined turret. Its time-stained
stones indicate it had been a watch
tower of the Genoese in olden days
and that from it's top centuries ago
had famed, beacons warning the fee
ing people that the galleys of Barbary
pirates were ravaging these shores.
The mass of ruined masonry rising
above the foliage has been now appar-
emily repaired. The Englishman sees
the sheen of glass in some of the little
loop-holed windows. Beside it on the