"Ah! you bald-pate----" began Aunt Bachissia. But Giacobbe walked
rapidly away, and she had only the satisfaction of hurling abuse at his
retreating back. Not that she proposed to have Giovanna apply for a
divorce. Heaven forbid! With poor Costantino still under appeal, and
waiting there in that fiery furnace, devoured by horrible insects! No,
indeed, but,--what right had that vile servant to talk of his master so?
What business was it of his to meddle in his master's concerns? And Aunt
Bachissia decided then and there that that "bald raven" had himself
taken a fancy to Giovanna; and, filled with this new idea, she reached
the cottage.
Her immediate thought was to repeat the whole story to Giovanna, but
finding her, for the first time in two weeks, bathed, and tranquilly
engaged in combing out her long hair, which fell down in heavy, tumbled
masses, she was afraid to say a word.
CHAPTER VI
Time passed by; the autumn came, and then the winter. Costantino's
appeal had, of course, been rejected, as appeals always are. One night
he was fastened by a chain to another convict, whom he had never seen,
and the two took their places in a long file of others, all dressed in
linen, all silent; like a drove of wild beasts controlled by some
invisible power. They were going--where? They did not know. They were
silent--why? They could not say. Presently they were all marched down to
the water's edge, put on board a long, black steamer, and shut into a
cage--still like wild beasts. All about them lay the crystal sea, across
whose dark, green waters the ruby and emerald reflections from the
ship's lights danced and sparkled like strings of glittering jewels;
while above, engirdling the great ring of water, hung the deep blue sky,
like an immense, silent vale dotted over with yellow, starry flowers. At
first Costantino's sensations were not altogether unhappy. True, he was
going into the unknown to fulfil a cruel destiny, but down in the bottom
of his heart he firmly believed that before very long he would be
liberated, and he never lost hope.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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