The Butler County press. [volume] (Hamilton, Ohio) 1900-1946, 1937-10-15
Nemesis
BY LUCILLE RoSEHoLM
G Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate.
WNU Service.

help. He says the rich people have put
away money to give u.s." She muir
INJURED this apologetically with many
stops and starts and coughs.
But, Rosa, hasn't Vittorio q fine
business with everybody having old
shoes repaired instead Of buying new
ones?"
She blushed painfully, the blood dye
Ing her skin deep rust that crawled
from her sparse, mouse gray hair to
her loose, dropping neck.
But nobody can pay" She spoke
the words so readily, so mechanically,
that | knew they had been rehearsed.
| decided, also, that Amato must have
sent her to me with stern, uneQuivocal
commands which no amount Of courage
could defy.
III be over to see you In the morn
irg," promised, "and then we can see
just what you need"
She backed her way out of the office
as IL afraid to give further offense,
eyes on the floor, shawl pulled tightly
around thin shoulders, brittle knees
cracking at each step.
The next morning, as investigator for
the emergency relief, paid the Amatos
my first official visit AS / walked
through the dusty, whirring repair shop
toward the closed door Of their home
In the rear, wave of apprehension be-
set me.
How often, as a child, had come to
the door with slippers to be soled and
run out with my hands full Of luscious
wrinkled Italian olives that Rosa snug
gled to me when Amato's back was
turned How often / had wondered
why that door was always closed. Was
it sanctuary of evil? / recalled, now,
the terror with which we used to whis-
per our suspicious when, In the black
of the night or the slate of the dawn,
fearful, pitiful cries tore through a slit
of window. And the next day Rosa
would appear red-eyed and swollen,
with ugly patches of blue and yellow
and purple marbllng her face. Then
her sharp, glistening eyes were dull
and heavy as mud, and no cajoling
could evoke smile or cookie.
But the room had no ghouls. 1t was
clean and cluttered and virtually pa
pered with holy Madonnas. There was
coal stove and a kitchen pantry in
one corner, plush chair with beaded
lamp Of Victorian elegance In another
an oak dresser with a crocheted table
scarf In third, and q square brass bed
wearing tremendous quilt OF red and
orange and green and yellow In the
fourth. Tt was, In word, bedroom,
kitchen, library and church, as bright
and busy and colorful as the Ponte
Vecchio itself.
1t looked as warm and homely as
Rosa, and for the moment | was sure
that no screams, no beatings, could
have taken place In such friendly
home. Then Amato entered. His fierce
black mustache was salted with gray,
and the ends, which used to be so hand
somely waxed, dropped shapelessly
down the sides Of his mouth. His thin
string of mouth curled bitterly as
ever, nor had his cleaning evil eyes
grown softer with years.
Miss" he said, I'VE need a new mat
tress. See," tearing off the carefully
laid quilt and exposing a fiat, tattered
pile of tufting I'VE sleep on the hard
wood" He was heavy man with
plenty of flesh on him; but could pic
ture Rosa's poor tired bones aching
against the bare Stats.
'Pll order new one for you," said
to Rosa; and as | turned to go she
pressed a dry, hard little hand into
mine and whispered, "Grazia."
The day the mattress arrived I went
myself to see that they had delivered
the right one before 1t should be used.
As Amato was downtown buying sup
plies Rosa and | delightedly placed the
new mattress on the bed and quickly
carried the old one out into the yard
to be burned.
This was q momentous ceremony; so
Rosa slyly offered me glass Of de-
licious red wine with which we cele-
brated gaily. We lighted match and
in moment the flames leaped high
IAONd plGS6Cu lCl ndll0 iulO anu
together we enjoyed watching the fire
slowly consume the shabby, disreput-
able mess. Suddenly we heard wild
clamor.
What you burn there?" shrieked
Amato.
Your filthy old mattress!" / cried
triumphantly.
By this time the flames had died
away and only ashes remained. Amato
stared at us furiously for a moment.
Then, with a scream of agony, he
rushed into the smoldering mass and
feverishly threw himself upon 1t, rak-
ing, with his bare hands, the gray dust.
Finding nothing he turned to us In a
| frenzy.
"You,' he cried wr1nging his hands
at me in rage and anguish, you, why
you not walt till / come home? You
know what you done?" His voice be-
came a hoarse sob, cracking in his
throat. You have burn my savings for
! forty years. / have all my eighteen
/