Page:The International - Volume 1.djvu/168

Archangelo was enabled to send the two orphans, Anibal and Ettor, to Messina to learn a trade, when once his neighbor, godfather Masi, went there to visit his brother, the carpenter. But the pallor that had settled upon the face of Phenicia during the days of their adversity never left it; day by day she grew thinner, and her eyes glowed like eternally burning lamps. A smile rarely visited her features, and when it did there was something so unnatural and woful in it that it awoke pain rather than pleasure.

The gossips soon noticed this and began to whisper among themselves. At first this whispering was low, very low, but it grew like the roar of the wind before a storm, when some of Agostino's old friends began to relate how it was in regard to that testimony in Messina. On one occasion, when Venera had a quarrel with the aunt of the lame tailor about a hen, the red-headed Agrippina, the latter cried out in her wrath, "I would not light my candle by your fire. Bad luck would surely visit me. You, mother of a robber, mother-in-law of a perjurer! The holy water should have been thrown into a ditch, rather than upon your head, in baptism!"

"Do you not fear God!" cried old Nunziata, "What monstrous story have you conjured up? A plague upon your tongue!"

"Conjured up, conjured up!" screamed Agrippina, "doesn't the whole town know it? Why does not Phenicia go to confession any longer? Do you think we are blind. Eh?" And she hurried away, laughing scornfully, and smoothing down the feathers of her black hen.

Venera uttered never a word, and Nunziata, too, remained silent. Phenicia standing by the window heard all. She turned white as a sheet, her eyes blazed wildly and her lips twitched convulsively. From that time she was never seen at mass.

Venera, greatly alarmed, told everywhere that Phenicia was very ill, and for that reason hardly ever left the house. Archangelo spoke with no one, and from that time really began to drink. For hours he would sit in the small tavern kept by Uncle An-

tonio, and play dominoes with disreputable characters, draining glass after glass of wine and mixed drinks, and in his gloomy reserve it seemed as if he really were losing his mind.

"Is it God's judgment?" whispered Venera, as she fingered her rosary and feared to look up at the crucified Christ. But Phenicia, in her distress, looked into his agonized face all day long, silently wringing her hands. She was very, very ill.

Thus passed the winter, which was unusually severe. While it lasted, the palace of Corvejo was never free from cold winds that chased each other through the empty corridors. Very likely that was why Phenicia constantly trembled.

But when the spring came, when the sun smiled upon the hill slopes, when every where glowed the almond blooms like Easter candles, then Venera thought that her daughter-in-law would be better. Nunziata was right when she said that the sun was our best physician, and cold and dark ness our worst enemies.

And one morning when the whole sky seemed one mass of roses, and the air interwoven with gold and diamonds, Phenicia suddenly appeared before the house with some color in her cheeks and a smile upon her lips as she said to Carmenio:

"It has occurred to me, Carmenio, that Passion Week is approaching. How beautiful it used to be up in Mola! . . . I'd like to know if the passion flowers still grow upon Aunt Pina's balcony, and whether she still keeps so much poultry. It is a long time since we were there. I'm going up to-day; come with me."

Carmenio was delighted, and throwing aside his hammer he ran into the house for his coat. In the meantime Phenicia stepped over to see grandmother Nunziata.

"What do you want in Mola?" asked Nunziata when she heard where Phenicia was going. "The way is very steep, and you are not well."

"Oh yes, I am," replied Phenicia, "and what do I want there? Well, I want to see Father Philip," and after a pause she added, "I'm going to him to confession."