Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
"
The brigand turned to Ferralti.
"And you, signore?" he asked.
"I do not know whether I can get the money you demand."
"But you will make the attempt, as I shall direct?"
"Yes."
"Then, signori, it is all finished. In a brief time you will leave my
hospitable roof."
"The sooner the better," declared Ferralti.
They sat for a time in silence, each busy with his thoughts.
"Go to your grandmother, Tato," said the Duke, "and try to make your
peace with her. If she is too angry, do not remain. To-morrow you must
go into town with letters from these gentlemen to their friends."
The child kissed him and went obediently to do his will. Then the
brigand spoke to Tommaso, who brought writing material from the house
and placed it upon a small table.
Uncle John, without further demur, sat down to write. The Duke dictated
what he should say, although he was allowed to express the words in his
own characteristic style, and he followed his instructions implicitly,
secretly admiring the shrewdness of the brigand's methods.
It was now Ferralti's turn. He had just seated himself at the table and
taken the pen when they were startled by a shrill scream from the rear
of the house. It was followed by another, and another, in quick
succession.
It was Tato's voice, and the duke gave an answering cry and sprang from
the veranda to dart quickly around the corner of the house. Uncle John
followed him, nearly as fearful as the child's father.
Tommaso seized a short rifle that stood near and ran around the house in
the other direction, when Ferralti, who for a moment had seemed dazed by
the interruption, followed Tommaso rather than the others.
As they came to the rear they were amazed to see the old Duchessa, whom
they had known to be feeble and dependent upon her women, rush through
the garden hedge with the agility of a man, bearing in her arms the
struggling form of little Tato.
The child screamed pitifully, but the woman glared upon Tommaso and
Ferralti, as she passed them, with the ferocity of a tiger.
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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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