Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
So of new murders I will take no risk, for the bambina's
sake."
"And my revenge?"
"Bah, of what use is it? Because the boy's father married my sister
Bianca, and ill-treated her, must we kill their offspring?"
"He is his father's son. The father, you say, is dead, and so also is my
child Bianca. Then my hatred falls upon the son Arturo, and he must die
to avenge the wrong to our race."
"More proof that you are imbecile," said the Duke, calmly. "He shall not
die. He is nothing to us except a mine from whence to get gold."
"He is my grandson. I have a right to kill him."
"He is my nephew. He shall live."
"Do you defy me?"
"With certainty. I defy you. The new world permits no crazy nonna to
rule a family. That is my privilege. If you persist, it is you who shall
go to the pit. If you have reason, you shall remain in your garden in
peace. Come, Tato; we will retire."
He arose and took the child's hand. The old woman sat staring at them in
silence, but with an evil glint in her glistening eyes.
Uncle John turned around and softly made his retreat from the garden.
His face wore a startled and horrified expression and on his forehead
stood great beads of sweat that the sultriness of the day did not
account for.
But he thought better of Il Duca.
CHAPTER XXI
THE PIT
They met an hour later at luncheon, all but the Duchessa, who sulked in
her garden. Tato was bright and smiling, filled with a suppressed joy
which bubbled up in spite of the little one's effort to be dignified and
sedate. When her hand stole under the table to find and press that of
her father, Uncle John beamed upon her approvingly; for he knew what had
occurred and could sympathize with her delight.
The Duke, however, was more sombre than usual. He had defied his mother,
successfully, so far; but he feared the terrible old woman more than did
Tato, because he knew more of her history and of the bold and wicked
deeds she had perpetrated in years gone by. Only once had a proposed
victim escaped her, and that was when her own daughter Bianca had fallen
in love with an American held for ransom and spirited him away from the
valley through knowledge of the secret passage.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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