Lucia reached Palenella again about midday, and rode into the village
holding in her hand the kerchief she usually wore on her head, a
circumstance which of itself would have been enough to attract
attention, since uncovered heads were rarely seen in the village. But,
as the absence of the kerchief revealed the fact that her heavy plait
had disappeared leaving only a short, stubbly stump to show where once
it had been, it was not many minutes before the whole village was
exclaiming, “Lucia’s hair has been cut off!”
The news had spread like wild fire even before Lucia reached her own
door, and was speedily confirmed, if confirmation were needed, by the
fearful outburst of weeping and wailing with which Mother Ceprano
received her disfigured daughter.
The old woman wrung her hands, tore her hair, uttered maledictions,
screamed and howled so wildly that she was heard even in the
farthermost houses, and the whole population speedily collected round
the house.
Lucia had not yet dismounted, and there she now sat on the mule,
looking perfectly calm and collected, while the children danced round
her mocking and jeering, and the men and women whispered and gazed in
astonishment.
It must be confessed that the villagers’ first feeling was one of
hearty satisfaction in the proud Lucia’s humiliation. But they quite
expected to see some young man appear waving the plait in triumph, and
when they found this did not happen, their gratification gave way to
wrath and indignation against the unknown person who had done the deed.
The pride of the whole community was hurt, and wild voices were heard
shouting, “Whoever it was he shall not go unpunished! A girl of our
village—he has insulted us all, every one—he shall make it good or pay
for it with his life!”
The men doubled their fists and raised their arms, uttering savage
threats and imprecations, as they pressed round Lucia who sat like
a statue, watching the growing excitement and tumult with intense
interest.
“Who was it? who did it?” they shouted to her from all sides. “Do you
know him? Who has dared to insult you and all of us? You _must_ say who
it is!” were the cries uttered in various tones by a hundred angry men
and women.
“He must marry you, he must, or he shall die! Who was it? who?”
“A man in Palene,”answered Lucia in a clear voice.
“Palene? he shall die if he won’t do his duty. But what is his name?”
“Don Ernano!”
“What, he? a foreigner! the light-haired man! the sportsman!” cried
several voices.
“It’s all the same,” screamed others, “it’s just the same. It would
make no difference if he were a townsman—he shall die if he won’t do
you justice and restore you to honor; yes, he shall die by our hands,”
cried all, old and young, with angry, flashing eyes.
“He must give the village satisfaction at once,” cried one who had
taken the lead; “I will go to him now. Take your knives, my men, and
say who’ll go with me?”
“I! I!”cried at least twenty voices and a number of men separated from
the rest and started off at a rapid pace along the road to Palene.
Lucia now dismounted, led the mule into his stable and retreated to her
dismal little room out of her mother’s way. Here she sat down quite
exhausted on the only chair it contained, and drew a deep breath.
“Now no one can kill him for marrying me, for they will make him,” she
said softly to herself, “and he won’t refuse. He likes me, I’m sure of
that now, and Pietro Antonio won’t dare to touch him, for he would have
the whole village against him.”
It was about an hour after all this commotion that the first of the
Palenella peasants entered Don Ernano’s wineshop and called for a
tumbler of wine. In a few seconds more another came in, and then a
third, and before the barber knew where he was, his room was filled
with peasants, all of whom carried knives in their gay-colored sashes,
and looked very menacing.
Don Lugeno, though peaceably disposed, was a brave man enough, but he
could not help feeling somewhat aghast on the present occasion, for
there was evidently something strange about his visitors.
“Don Ernano,” began the spokesman, “you have cut off the plait of one
of our girls—eh? is it so?”
“Yes!”returned the barber with some embarrassment, but without the
slightest suspicion of what was meant, or what the question boded.
“Have you the plait?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Then please to show it to us.”
The barber went and fetched it from the cupboard and held it up,
saying, “Here it is.”
“You know the girl?”they inquired further.
“Yes, it is Lucia Ceprano; I have known her a long time.”
“Good! Will you marry her?”inquired the leader suddenly stepping up to
the barber.
“_Marry_—Lucia Ceprano?” exclaimed Don Ernano quite taken a-back.
“Will you?” and a dozen large knives flashed into the air, while in an
instant the men had closed the entrance into the shop, surrounded the
terrified owner and driven him into a corner.
“Yes or no?” said they in suppressed tones.
Lugeno looked from one to the other and tried to collect himself. He
saw plainly enough that it was no laughing matter, for the men were
looking at him with an expression of deadly hatred in their eyes, and
they looked so sullen and determined that he felt he had never before
been so immediately face to face with death. He could hardly breathe,
but he struggled to say, “Only tell me——”
“Still, man,”whispered the ringleader; “no shirking, and no unnecessary
words. Answer me; will you marry Lucia Ceprano of Palenella, whose
plait you have cut off, or not? Say you will, now, this instant,
without any humbug, or in two minutes you are a dead man, as sure as we
all stand here!”
A gleam of joy and relief came into Don Ernano’s eyes; he breathed more
freely, and wiping his forehead, said with a smile, “Why, of course I
will, my men, with all my heart, if she will have me.”
“She must!”was the rejoinder, spoken in tones of as much determination
as before. “Then you swear, here before us, to marry Lucia, as soon as
possible, at all events within the month, and you will be married in
our church, by our priest?”
“I swear it,”said the barber with great alacrity.
“That’s well; and you have acted wisely, master, let me tell you, for
you would not have left your shop alive otherwise!”
Thereupon the men put up their knives, ordered some wine, each
separately drank to the health of the still bewildered Don Ernano, bade
him a polite farewell, and returned to the village. The evening was not
far advanced when they reached Palenella, and going straight to Mother
Ceprano’s house, they found her still lamenting and vituperating the
rascal who had done the evil deed, while Lucia was sitting contentedly
at the table eating her supper with a good appetite.
“We have good news for you, Lucia,” cried a dozen voices; “he’ll marry
you. He has solemnly sworn to marry you within the month. You may be
quite easy about it, for he will do all that is right by you, and he
will give us satisfaction. He is a clever man, much respected, and as
good as anyone in the village.”
“Thank you, my friends, I am quite satisfied. You have done me a good
turn and I’ll never forget it,”said Lucia, looking positively radiant
with happiness.
That night the village was a long time in settling down to its usual
state of quietness; for the men felt they had achieved a grand victory
and could do no less than celebrate it, little guessing, of course,
that they had been outwitted by a girl, and that so far from being the
victors they had actually been defeated, and had had their own weapons
turned against them.
Meanwhile, in spite of her happiness, Lucia was feeling a little
uneasy as to the way in which Don Lugeno might view her conduct, and
very early in the morning she was in the shop again. So early was she,
indeed, that he did not hear her enter, as he was busy with his coffee
in the kitchen.
“Don Ernano,” began Lucia in a humble, tremulous tone, “can you forgive
me?”
The barber turned round like a flash of lightning.
“Lucia! Lucia!” he exclaimed joyously; “but, my dear girl, do for
mercy’s sake tell me what it all means. Is it true? Am I really to
marry you?”
“Do you mind very much, signore? I thought—I fancied—”said poor Lucia,
trembling, and panting for breath.
“Mind! Ah, signorina, it is not that; I am only too happy to think I am
to have such a dear, good, beautiful wife,” said Lugeno consolingly,
and his manner was so hearty as to leave no room for doubt as to his
sincerity. “My dearest girl, don’t cry; this happiness has come upon me
like a—like a thunder-bolt. You’re the very wife I should have chosen
above all others; but I don’t understand what has happened, or how it
has all come about. Why, I have been forced to accept happiness such
as I dared not even dream of at the point of twenty knives! How is it,
dear signorina? And why did you make me cut off your plait?”
Don Ernano spoke so kindly and pleasantly that Lucia had soon dried her
tears, and now looking up at him with a beaming face, she said, “I
will tell you all about it, Don Ernano. You see I was obliged to do as
I did, or you could not have married me without incurring the vengeance
of that wicked Pietro who is very angry at my refusing him. Now you are
under the protection of the whole village, and he will take good care
not to come in your way.”
Then Lucia went on to tell her lover all the ins and outs of the
affair, and how, after Pietro’s attempt two nights ago, she had made up
her mind to get him to cut off her hair rather than let anyone else do
so.
“And now will you forgive me?” she asked in a gentle, shame faced tone.
“Forgive? I’ll thank you with all my heart, you dear, brave, clever
girl. I declare you are wiser and cleverer than the wisest lawyer,” and
drawing the tall, handsome village maiden to him, he gave her a long
kiss, which was cordially returned.
“What a pity about your beautiful hair! I wish it were grown again,”
said he, tenderly stroking his bride’s close-cropped head.
“Well, you are a hair-dresser, so you must see what you can do,” said
Lucia; “but I have made a good exchange. Where is the girl who would
not sacrifice the finest head of hair for a good husband, especially,”
she added shyly, “when the lover himself cut it off?”
While Lucia and Don Ernano were thus pleasantly engaged, there had been
a great disturbance at Palenella. Pietro Antonio, having just heard all
that had happened, had hurried to the village in a furious passion.
First he poured out his wrath on the peasants for their stupidity, and
then tried to set them against the barber, whom he had always hated,
and now of course detested more than ever. He told the peasants that he
was a crafty rascal, that he and the girl understood one another, and
had acted in concert, and that he only wanted her money.
But he soon found that this would not do. The villagers had no mind to
be robbed of their triumph, and were quite certain they understood the
matter better than he did, and they used such forcible arguments to
convince Pietro of the justice of their views, that he retired to his
bed for a fortnight, and after that, not only gave Palenella a very
wide berth, but soon left the district and went to Naples.
Mother Ceprano behaved in a most amiable and polite manner to her
future son-in-law, who, by Lucia’s advice, determined to let the little
property at Palenella and allow his mother-in-law the rent of it for
her life. Also he made up his mind to sell his business in Palene and
have a nice barber’s shop and small _café_ in Rome, where he and Lucia
would do their utmost to please their customers.
Three weeks later the marriage was celebrated with much firing of guns
and rockets in the presence not only of the whole village, but of most
of the inhabitants of the town of Palene, and there was every reason to
hope that it would prove a happy one, in spite of the strange way in
which bride and bridegroom had been brought together.—_Belgravia._