The two friends walked together along the shore of the river. In the
distance the boats of Barletta, loaded with salt, scintillated like
fairy palaces of crystal; a gentle breeze was blowing from Montecorno,
ruffling the limpid surface of the water.
“I say,” said Ristabilito to Ciavola, halting, “are we going to steal
that pig to-night?”
“And how can we do it?” asked Ciavola.
Said Ristabilito:
“I know how to do it if the pig is left where we last saw it.”
Said Ciavola:
“Well, let us do it! But after?”
Ristabilito stopped again, his little eyes brilliant as two carbuncles,
his flushed face wrinkling between the ears like a fawn’s, in a grimace
of joy.
“I know it ...” he said laconically.
In the distance, his form showing black through the naked trees of the
silver poplar grove, Don Bergamino Camplone approached the two. As soon
as they saw him, they hastened toward him. Noticing their joyful mien,
the priest, smiling, asked them:
“Well, what good news have you?”
Briefly, they communicated to him their purpose, to which he
delightedly assented. Ristabilito concluded softly:
“We shall have to use great cunning. You know that Peppe, since he
married that ugly woman, Donna Pelagia, has become a great miser, but
he likes wine pretty well. Now then let us get him to accompany us to
the Inn of Assau. You, Don Bergamino, treat us to drinks and pay for
everything. Peppe will drink as much as he can get without having to
pay anything for it, and will get intoxicated. We can then go about our
business with no fear of interruption.”
Ciavola favoured this plan, and the priest agreed to his share in the
bargain. Then all together returned to the house of Peppe, which was
only about two gun-shots away, and as they drew near, Ciavola raised
his voice:
“Hello-o! La Brevetta! Do you wish to come to the Inn of Assau? The
priest is here, and he is ready to pay for a bottle or two—Hello!” La
Brevetta did not delay in coming down the path, and the four set out
together, in the soft light of the new moon. The quiet was occasionally
broken by the caterwauling of love-stricken cats. Ristabilito turned to
Peppe, asking in jest:
“Oh, Peppe, don’t you hear Pelagia calling you?”
Upon the left side of the river shone the lights of the Inn of Assau,
mirrored by the water. As the current of the river was not very strong
here, Assau kept a little boat to ferry over his customers. In answer
to their calls, the boat approached over the luminous water to meet the
new-comers. When they were seated and engaged in friendly chat, Ciavola
with his long legs began to rock the boat, and the creaking of the wood
frightened La Brevetta, who, affected by the dampness of the river,
broke forth in another paroxysm of sneezing.
Arrived at the inn, seated around an oaken table, the company became
more jovial, laughing and jesting loudly, and pouring the wine into
their victim, who found it easy to let the good red juice of the vines,
rich in taste and colour, run down his throat.
“Another bottle,” ordered Don Bergamino, beating his fist upon the
table.
Assau, an essentially rustic, bow-legged man, brought in the ruby
coloured bottles. Ciavola sang with much Bacchic freedom, striking the
rhythm upon the glasses. La Brevetta, his tongue now thick and his eyes
swimming from the effects of the wine, was holding the priest by the
sleeve to make him listen to his stammering and incoherent praises of
his wonderful pig. Above their heads lines of dried, greenish pumpkins
hung from the ceiling; the lamps, in which the oil was getting low,
were smoking.
It was late at night and the moon was high in the sky when the friends
again crossed the river. In landing, Mastro Peppe came near falling in
the mud, for his legs were unsteady and his eyesight blurred.
Ristabilito said:
“Let us do a kind act. Let us carry this fellow home.”
Holding him up under the arms, they took him home through the poplar
grove, and the drunken man, mistaking the white trunks of the trees in
the night, stammered thickly:
“Oh, how many Dominican monks I see!...”
Said Ciavola, “They are going to look for San Antonio.”
The drunken man went on, after an interval:
“Oh, Lepruccio, Lepruccio, seven measures of salt will be enough. What
shall we do?”
The three conspirators, having conveyed Mastro Peppe to the door of
his house, left him there. He ascended the steps with much difficulty,
mumbling about Lepruccio and the salt. Then, not noticing that he had
left the door open, he threw himself into the arms of Morpheus.
Ciavola and Ristabilito, after having partaken of the supper of Don
Bergamino, provided with certain crooked tools, set cautiously to
work. The moon had set, the sky was glittering with stars, and through
the solitude the north wind was blowing sharply. The two men advanced
silently, listening for any sound, and halting now and then, when the
skill and agility of Matteo Puriello would be called into use for the
occasion.
When they reached the place, Ristabilito could scarcely withhold an
exclamation of joy on finding the door open. Profound silence reigned
through the house, except for the deep snoring of the sleeping man.
Ciavola ascended the stairs first, followed by Ristabilito. In the
dim light they perceived the vague outlines of the pig lying upon the
table. With the utmost caution, they raised the heavy body and dragged
it out by main force. They stood listening for a moment. The cocks
could be heard crowing, one after another, in the yards.
Then the two thieves, laughing at their prowess, took the pig upon
their shoulders and made their way up the path; to Ciavola it seemed
like stealing through a wood with poached game. The pig was heavy, and
they reached the house of the priest in a breathless state.