Persons Unknown Part 47

"The Signora Alieni has never done such work--she has no practice.

Moreover, be sure she fears what Nicola feared in the beginning--the curse of his mother!"

A voice remarked, "His mother is ugly and old. If she should die she could not curse."

"True. But we are busy."

Beppo began to exclaim, "It is too bad! Time after time have I asked for her! I, too, love her and could be happy. And I need them like her every day! Why should she be sent to Brazil? I never have anything!" He stamped with rage and his nose began to bleed again.

Other young ricondeterros, complaining of the dearth of blondes, began to protest against Brazil. The Parmesan looked at Mr. Gumama with a smile. "Is she not a firebrand, eh? She who is so sought by the police, is it to the police she shall tell her story?"

Brus.h.i.+ng the Parmesan aside the capo insisted, "She is not of our nation. It is against the custom. It is a greater danger than she is.

Even if she should meet, so far away, with men of the Americans, what does she know?"

The Parmesan, now visibly measuring strength with Mr. Gumama, responded merely, "What is it, Beppo?"

Beppo, past the handkerchief he ostentatiously held to his nose, cried out, "She knows everything!" As this won him the center of the stage he proceeded in a series of sniffling shrieks, "I will tell you! I am the cousin of Nicola. I am the friend of their house. I play much with Maria but I watch and listen. Attention! She knows all, all, all! She seemed at first wrapped in the love of the basista. They slept side by side.

She made a promise to ask, of her own accord, for sleep; but then she is ill and when she is well again she has some notion and she will not--why? Because she wills to tell all she knows! She, too, has watched and listened! She knows my name--and yours, Giuseppe Gumama! Under her red hair she carries death for you, Antonelli! And for you--and you--and you!"

The meeting was on its feet, swaying with pa.s.sion and fear and gesticulating, with congenial resolution, "I demand the suppression--"

"I, too!"

"And I!"

"And I!"

"I demand the suppression of Mees Cornees!"

The capo's authority was shaken in a paranza which was a paranza no longer. Obedience was not what it had been in the Arm of Justice.

"Hands of the Arm," Beppo adjured, "is she not now at our meeting-place?

Knows she not that? Did the basista conceal when Nicola was made a capo in the Honorable Society? Knows she not that? Oh, friends of my blood, can she not tell _that name_? By the body of Bacchus, I see her in my dreams! There is a shower of gold about her! If she is not for me, do not give her to the Rosellis--let her sleep!"

The meeting echoed, in one soft whisper of satisfaction, "Let her sleep!"

"S-s-ss.h.!.+" said Mr. Gumama.

He said it instinctively, glancing toward the scuttle. But he realized that the precedent of dealing solely with his own nation must now be set aside; he heard the people's voice. Alas, he had also to baulk it of its Duel by Wine.

"Let it be so. Firenzi, you will suppress the traitor and deliver him to the wharf. Choose two apprentices to help you with the barrel. Pachotto, you will take Beppo and the brother of Antonelli's wife and proceed to our old meeting-place. When you have suppressed the girl Cornees bring back her token."

"Sir," the Parmesan again coolingly corrected, "Nicola has still with him some of his men and the Rosellis. There is but one man who, without suspicion, can reach past these to the little Cornees.--Alieni o'

n'infama," he pleasantly repeated, "would you do this to remain awake?"

The prisoner felt himself quiver as though he had been struck. He could not control the hope which was almost a sickness that rose in him at these words. He heard the popular cry surge up against him, hissing and protesting; Firenzi and Pachotto were the most horribly excited for he and they were the only persons in the room not having a good time. His quick glances, furtive and secret, ran questing among the lips that condemned him; when he lifted them to his questioner the sharp intake of his breath promised his soul away. But Mr. Gumama turned upon the Parmesan and told him that he forgot himself.

"Ah, sir, in private a word. Alieni, does he speak English?" He broke his beautiful Italian into a strange sound. "Spik Inglese, Alieni?"

The prisoner, trembling to oblige, responded in the same dialect, "Unstan' Inglese!"

It did not oblige--the Parmesan frowned. "Unstan' Inglese verra goood?"

He coaxed, winningly, hoping for a denial.

Now the prisoner, though he understood English perfectly, was no fool and could see a possible weapon when it was put into his hand. "I deplore!" said he, shrugging sadly. "Heartseek! Unstan' notta mooch!"

And he tried not to vibrate with greed of what they should say.

"Va bene! Spik Inglese, us! Spik low! Oh, Gumama, let heem put da girl to slip--heem! Let heem tak' for token--Whatta she wear?" he asked Beppo.

Beppo considered and then pointed to the gold bracelet under the old Sicilian cuff. "But silvere!" He lapsed into Italian. The girl had had three silver trinkets--a ring, a locket, a bracelet. Nicola had taken the locket, the ring she had lost. "It ees time she loosa da t'ird!"

grinned the Parmesan. "Ss.h.!.+ He ees leesten!" Their voices sank to a whisper. Inordinately acute though his senses always were the prisoner could no longer understand a syllable.

"I go weeth Beppo an' Chigi. Let heem settle da girl an' tak' her token. Den _we_ settle heem an' tak' botta tokens! Tak' dem to capo in testa for show extrra gooda faith in nama da Arma of Zhoostees. Den Honorrahble Soceeata embra.s.s us! We done gooda!" He inhaled with languid elegance and returned to the world a ring of cigarette smoke.

Still the prisoner could not catch a word. The decision hung fire. The protesting roar surged louder and louder and the cries of Pachotto and Firenzi became tiger cries. Mr. Gumama suddenly called to order. He had found a way to satisfy the Parmesan and yet to maintain his supremacy.

"This meeting promised Firenzi and Pachotto a chance of mercy and a chance of service. This meeting keeps its word. The chance is to be now.

But for Alieni, also. Do not rebel. They were to enter on the Duel by Wine. But for the Duel by Wine the basista Alieni has sent us three cups. Why should not the prisoner Alieni play at the game of his wife?"

He had turned the tide. Their craving for games of chance, always temporarily stronger than fear, anger or duty, flared into high fire.

Again was Mr. Gumama the popular man. Even on the prisoner smiles were lavished. And still for some crevice of safety, as if in every muscle of their faces, his eyes sought.

The meeting got happily to work, like a good child. It brought forth a dice-box and dice, a bottle of wine and, wrapped in a colored handkerchief, two triangular knives. In that musical neighborhood another hand-organ had long since followed the first; "The Wearing of the Green," which had made melodious the Parmesan's battle, now gave way to the Tales of Hoffman and the Barcarolle, a rhythm that swayed in every busy motion and humming tongue as the prisoner watched the table cleared and the painted jugs set forth. Mrs. Pascoe was called up to fetch a lantern; as she withdrew all three prisoners were faced toward the wall; Mr. Gumama took a twist of paper from his pocket, s.h.i.+elded it from view, and dropped a tablet from it into each of two jugs. Then he filled them all with wine. The prisoners were turned round again.

"Alieni o' n'infama," called the Parmesan, blithely, "you are very much afraid!"

He knew it and sank his head on his breast.

"Cowards play well. They grow brave from fear. You will be desperate."

The young fellow shuddered. But he tried to keep his head clear.

"Cheer up, traditore! It is true our haste but sentenced you to the knife and the knife is quick. But do you not choose to risk a few drops and die wriggling--when, if you are lucky, you may live? When you have but to strike, afterwards, a little soft blow to make your peace!" The Parmesan, s.n.a.t.c.hing up a triangular knife and, despite the remonstrances of Mr. Gumama, one of the jugs, thrust them jocularly under the prisoner's nose.

The tormented fellow, with an uncontrollable gasp that spilled the wine, bent and kissed the jug. A burst of childish applause approved his enthusiasm. A dank moisture of relief broke out upon him. At least they saw that he was resolved and would not fear to let him try. What was coming?

The meeting had formed into a circle as for a c.o.c.k fight. He, Firenzi and Pachotto and the table with the dice and wine were in the center.

The silent circle devoured him with applauding, encouraging glances. He was horribly aware of the two other men, larger, heavier, perhaps therefore luckier--the bigger the build, he had thought before, the greater the luck!--They were all too still! What were they going to make him do now?

Mr. Gumama himself took down a strap from the wall and tested its strength.

"Firenzi, then you, Pachotto, then you, Alieni, you will appeal to the dice. He who throws highest will have first choice of the jugs. Of the three who drink, one will live. It will take some time to settle this.

The meeting will disperse, but a committee will return. The man whom they find alive will go with Beppo and Chigi and you, Pepe, to our meeting-place and put to sleep that girl. Those not surviving will be signed with our sign--but only one thrust for each paranza of this district.--Filippi Alieni, what is the matter with you? You show no feeling at what I say!"

For all his brilliant, questioning eyes, it was true he looked extremely blank; his expression too often merely followed theirs with an opposite.

"Well, there must always be a first time. It is true, Alieni, is it not so, that you have never suppressed a life?"

There are bitternesses which fear cannot quench. Having no free hand to beat his breast he turned his head with restless pa.s.sion from side to side and in a high, shrill, wild desolation, a Latin sweetness of hysteria roughened by his grinding laugh, he cried aloud, "Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa!"

"There is no need for irreverence!" exclaimed Mr. Gumama, scandalized.