The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1913-09-04


the people stole 2 3 h
glances after the "
bent, white-haired I
form Of old
Borsini, and whis- <'-
pered: "He will die of grief. 1t is
a great pity that he is too old for
vengeance"
When they passed the shop and
found the shutters closed day after
day, with Nicola Davio's puppies
playing on the steps and the dust
blowing into the corners, they said:
Poor old Dionigio, his heart is
broken"
And all the while Botta staggered
and grew fat with glory.
But one day the shutters were
opened, the puppies sent away and
the door left ajar, so that one could
see the mirrors and the kegs of rum,
and more than all, Gentle Dionigio
himself, with his towel on his arm,
and his fresh white apron. And the
word went from one to another, until
one by one all the topers came-aN
but one, and he was Botta.
And so it was for a week, when
Botta himself came smiling and insol-
ent and showing no fear. 1t was then
that the old rum sellers lips grew
white, and as he glared he snarled:
Smile now, Botta, so that you may
look pleasant when your time comes. y
Rotta laughed, but his eyes grew
white underneath and his hand shook
as he drank.
Again Botta came, laughing and
testing with his cronies, and winhing
when Gentle Bionigio was not looking.
But he grew silent when his uncle
turned to him and said, softly:
Take care, my nephew, God has
told me to kill you within two
weeks"
And, on the night after two weeks,
Botta was there again. And now,
when his uncle came toward him, he
drew back with alright. and put a
chair before him as a shield.
Have no fear" said the old man.
II would have killed you last night,
but God came to me in a dream and
said, One week longer, Dionigio.
All the evening Botta sat with his
glass undrained, thinking sick
thoughts. with signs andeafurtive
glances at Gentle Dionigio. For he
was afraid. AS he went home he said
to himself, 1T is not right that he
should bring God into this business.
Why does he not try to kill me. as
any one else would do? could de-
fend myself then
He did not appear at the wine shop
for long time, but stayed in his room
whiting the carvings that he sold on
the streets in the daytime. One day
he stopped, for he found that always
his figures took the look of old Bor-
sini and leered and laughed at him
under the lamplight, and chilled his
limbs.
In time the shadows in the room
drove him to the wine shop. He
drew courage from thinking, "Old
Dionigio has forgotten. He lies when
he says that God is against me-"
And when he came he grew bold,
laughing and testing as in the other
times. In defiance, he waited until
the others had gone, and then swag-
gered to the door. When old Dionigio
tapped him on the shoulder he turned
in an instant, his knife In his hand.
He thought 1T is now!"
But Dionigio was looking upon him
with eyes as soft as nuns.
Listen, Botta," he said, God is
merciful to you. On the night before
your doom, he came to me in my
sleep and said, 'Dionigio, the murderer
of your son must live until the day
of the Holy st. Peter. Until then he
must live"
But why do you not try now?'
stammered Botta, the knife trembling
in his hand. Now" and he clutched
his uncle's arm.
NO." said gentle Dionigio, finging
Botta from him. God has taken your
strength from you and could slay
you now, as you Stayed my poor Pie
tro. But Gods will shall be done,
and you must live until the day Of
st. Peter"
For a long time the topers did not
see Botta.
HE stays locked in his room." said
one. And l saw him peertng out
one day with the look Of a mad dog"
One day the barber, Fuseli, came
into the shop and said, "Have you
heard the news, Papa Borsini? They
have sent Botta to the insane asylum;
you have lost your vengeance"
bah! What blockhead you are!"
answered gentle Dionigio.
At the end of the week he sent
500 francs to the orphanage OF the
Holy Father. " II
I'm the name of God, the avenger,'
he said to himself.
Copyright by Daily Story Pub. Co,