Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
Opposite them, in the places adjoining the
elevated dais, were two remarkable individuals whom Uncle John saw for
the first time. One was a Cappuccin monk, with shaven crown and coarse
cassock fastened at the waist by a cord. He was blind in one eye and the
lid of the other drooped so as to expose only a thin slit. Fat, awkward
and unkempt, he stood holding to the back of his chair and swaying
slightly from side to side. Next to him was a dandified appearing man
who was very slight and thin of form but affected the dress and manners
of extreme youth. Ferralti whispered to Uncle John that this was the
doctor.
The table dropped a step in heighth from these places, and the balance
of its length was occupied by several stalwart Sicilians, clothed in
ordinary peasant costume, and a few silent, heavy-featured women. Tato
was not present.
"Signori," said the Duke to the Americans, "allow me to present you to
my mother, the head of our illustrious family; one who is known, admired
and feared throughout Sicily as her Excellenza la Duchessa d'Alcanta."
With the words the Duke bowed low to the old woman. Uncle John and
Ferralti also bowed low. The lines of servitors humbly bent themselves
double. But the Duchessa made no acknowledgment. Her bead like eyes
searched the faces of the "guests" with disconcerting boldness, and then
dropped to her plate.
At this signal the fat priest mumbled a blessing upon the food, the Duke
waved his hand, and all the company became seated.
Uncle John felt as if he were taking part in a comic opera, and enjoyed
the scene immensely. But now his attention was distracted by the
stewards bringing in steaming platters of macaroni and stewed mutton,
from which they first served the Duchessa, and then the Duke, and
afterward the guests. The servants waited hungry-eyed until these
formalities were completed, and then swept the platters clean and ate
ravenously.
Uncle John plied his knife and fork busily and found the food
excellently prepared. Ferralti seemed to have little appetite.
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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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