The Call of the Blood

Artois explained that he was an intimate friend of the signora and had

known her husband before his marriage.

"I have come to hear if you are satisfied, as no doubt you are, Signor

Pretore," he said, "that this terrible death was caused by an accident.

The poor signora naturally wishes that this necessary business should be

finished as soon as possible. It is unavoidable, I know, but it can only

add to her unhappiness. I am sure, signore, that you will do your best to

conclude the inquiry without delay. Forgive me for saying this. But I

know Sicily, and know that I can always rely on the chivalry of Sicilian

gentlemen where an unhappy lady is concerned."

He spoke intentionally with a certain pomp, and held his hat in his hand

while he was speaking.

The Pretore looked pleased and flattered.

"Certainly, Signor Barone," he said. "Certainly. We all grieve for the

poor signora."

"You will allow me to stay?" said Artois.

"I see no objection," said the Pretore.

He glanced at the Cancelliere, a small, pale man, with restless eyes and

a pointed chin that looked like a weapon.

"Niente, niente!" said the Cancelliere, obsequiously.

He was reading Artois with intense sharpness. The Maresciallo, a broad,

heavily built man, with an enormous mustache, uttered a deep "Buon

giorno, Signor Barone," and stood calmly staring. He looked like a

magnificent bull, with his short, strong brown neck, and low-growing hair

that seemed to have been freshly crimped. Gaspare stood close to Artois,

as if he felt that they were allies and must keep together. Salvatore was

a few paces off.

Artois glanced at him now with a carefully concealed curiosity. Instantly

the fisherman said: "Povero signorino! Povero signorino! Mamma mia! and only two days ago we

were all at the fair together! And he was so generous, Signor Barone." He

moved a little nearer, but Artois saw him glance swiftly at Gaspare, like

a man fearful of violence and ready to repel it. "He paid for everything.

We could all keep our soldi in our pockets. And he gave Maddalena a

beautiful blue dress, and he gave me a donkey. Dio mio! We have lost a

benefactor. If the poor signorino had lived he would have given me a new

boat. He had promised me a boat. For he would come fishing with me nearly

every day. He was like a compare--"

Salvatore stopped abruptly. His eyes were again on Gaspare.

"And you say," began the Pretore, with a certain heavy pomposity, "that

you did not see the signore at all yesterday?"