The Storyteller ALESSANDRO

New Zealand Tablet, 30 July 1908, Page 3

The Storyteller ALESSANDRO

(Concluded.)

. When I passed through Maddalena's open door, I found her sitting idle, without hope, " stricken to the heart. '.You must have some breakfast, Maddalena,' I said. She shook her head. 'This is nonsense,' I went on.- 'Nicola will be found, and you will be ill; I will cook your breakfast, and you must eat it.' I had hoped my words would rouse her — tfhe idea of the Signora waiting on her — but they failed utterly. Her eyes never left the open door ■ that showed the steep little street and the olive hills above it. I soon had a makeshift meal ready, and she ate it obediently. Ido not^ think she had touched food since the morning of the day before. ' Maddalena,' I repeated to her, ' you must not despair. - Nicola will come back; he is a big boy, and can take care of himself. If only Alessandro were home he would know where to look for him.' Let us go to look for him. Come — now.' I thought anything would be better than this dumb, despair. She looked at me startled. ' Where would the Signora go?' They were the first words she had spoken, and I felt rejoiced. 'To the sea — first — to see if Alessandro 's boat is in sight.' We x went out into the brilliant sunlight. She shaded her eyes for a. moment like a creature blinded, and would have turned back, but I tookjher hand in mine and led her on, praying that the joyous day would put hope into her heart. I think it did, for soon she was talking to me — telling me all that had -happened since early Friday morning, when she had punished Nicola. ' Why had Alessandro gone to V ?' I asked. This, too, she told me slowly, in a dull monotone — as if it all concerned some one else. He had again asked her to marry him, and she had said ' No.' ' You do not love him?' I queried. ' Second marriages are not right,' she answered, and went on to tell me how Alessandro had become angry ; he ' would leave M and go to America ; so yesterday he had sailed for V , a busy seaport some miles south. I looked at Maddalena in amazement. She was sending Alessandro — happy, wholesome Alessandro — to that land of violent contrasts. My next words came quickly, and were not premeditated*, for a faint color crept into the pale cheeks, and she asked me timidly : ' Does the Signora think to marry again is not wrong? 1 I was glad she put it that way, for I could answer truthfully. ' Decidedly, not wrong, Maddalena.' ' Ah, Signora,' she cried, gazing across the shining water. ' Why does he not come? He would find my Nicola. Suppose I never see Nicola again, never hear his voice, never hold him in my arms. He is lying somewhere hurt, and I cannot get to him. ' Sobbing violently she called : ' Alessandro, come quickly, come, come! You will find him.' Then turning to me as the sobs wore themselves out : ' Ah, Signora, I must go back — maybe he is at horne — I should not have left.' Breathlessly she flew up the sea-wall steps and did not slacken her speed until she reached her house. It was past noon when Alessandro's boat came in. He had with him a strip of paper, for which he had paid, that entitled him to be carried across the dark ocean, away from bright Italy, to the modern Land of Promise. He had also a letter — he had not paid for this, it was tendered him freely, payment would come later — to a man in this promised land, a 'man who was guaranteed to wring water from a stone. Armed with these bits of paper, harmless in- appearance as the three wishes of the fairy tale, but quite as subtly malicious ,he secured his boat and turned toward home. That he would never see Maddalena again he had quite determined. He would become an Americano and — maybe — when he came home in two or "three years, his pockets lined with yellow gold, as the man had promised, he would buy the villa on the hill, and then — maybe then They were very childish thoughts : we who are wise in the world's wisdom know how absurdly childish they were ; but to Alessandro — whose love and pride' had been wounded by Maddalena's refusal — they were very real, and,' as a child would, he found comfort in them. I saw his ' broad shoulders moving steadily up the narrow street, his head well back, looking neither to the right nor the left. With a hasty word to Maddalena I rushed through the door, stumbled down the crooked steps, and caught him before he disappeared.

'Per la vita mia!' was his startled exclamation when I told him the story. ' Lost— and since yesterday, Signora? I found him hidden in the boat when I started for V ; but I put him ashore and told him we could be friends no longer.' Poor Nicola! a fallen idol and a chastisement all in one morning! ' The; Signora knows,' continued Alessandro as ■ his head went up straighter. 'I am going to America next week.' 4 But, Nicola— — ?' I began, ignoring his words. ' You must find Nicola. Maddalena will lose her reason if ' ' I will find him with God's help,' he replied quietly. ' Will the Signora tell me where the men have searched?' •Everywhere,' I answered. '.They are still. looking. Surely," Alessandro, he was with you so much you must know his fancies, did he ever talk of running away? Battista says he was always talking of being a brigand.' A smile lighted his face as a recollection of the boy's, talk came to him. .' He was forever one thing or another ; a brigand one day, a padre another, and again a ,noble signor with a villa among the olive hills. Yesterday, when I put him out of the boat, I told him if he did not mind, his mother would punish him, he said he was too old to be punished by a woman, even though it was his mother. And he only comes to my elbow,' he added admiringly. 'He must be- found, Signora. - I will go at once. You know the old ruined villa,' pointing towards the sunset. 'We were always talking of it— both of us. I will look there first.' ' But the road is so steep,' I cried. 'No boy could climb that path.' ' Boys are monkeys— but I must start, it is hard to find in the darjkness. ' ' You must see Maddalena before you go ; tell her of the - villa; it will give her courage,' I said. He hesitated as if in doubt, then, raising his cap, turned and strode towards the open door, where I could see her standing. They were best ' alone, so I turned away, hoping that now in her loneliness she would forget the village gossips and show her heart to Alessandro as she had shown it to me. I stopped idly at the fountain tinkling in the sunlight, and recalled the day when Angelo, in all the bravery of- his festal clothes, had been forced to do penance for the sin of vanity in its shallow waters. I prayed that the small knave, Nicola— not Angelo— was alive somewhere, though- my heart misgave me when I thought of the hours he had been away without food or shelter. My words were brave ones when the desolate mother was within sound; but I feared the worst. All at once a sound of many voices in the distance made me turn. Down the winding path that led to the old villa came the villagers, their shrill voices cutting through -the quiet air. Nearer and nearer they came, their excited gestures telling me something had happened. That they had found the boy I was certain, but whether alive or not— l dared not think. Alessandro had started, taking another path, one more direct, but so precipitous that it was considered impassable. The cries had attracted him, and I saw him now, running down the road, throwing his cap up in the air and shouting : •He is found, Maddalena. He is found.' It was as Alessandro had told me when we stood outside Maddalena's door; the boy had climbed the precipitous path, found the villa— deserted, of course, no one had lived in it for ten years— crept into a sheltered corner, of the courtyard, and cried himself to sleep. In the morning he hunted vainly for • something- to eat, and when the men found him he was quite ready to be rescued. Poor little mite! AH his courage had! fled away, and he was crying bitterly for his mother. They carried him home triumphantly on their shoulders, but it was Alessandro who put him" in Maddalena's arms— arms that held both the big and the little man for an instant's time in a loving embrace ; and when the big man turned to me with a look that said much, the wee one was being smothered in kisses/ I saw that all was well, that Alessandro had entered the land of his heart's desire, that the ticket for the Promised Land would never be used, neither would the letter be delivered to the man who, as Alessandro told me later, could turn stones into gold — •Catholic World.' .