THE PIT
They met an hour later at luncheon, all but the Duchessa, who sulked in
her garden. Tato was bright and smiling, filled with a suppressed joy
which bubbled up in spite of the little one's effort to be dignified and
sedate. When her hand stole under the table to find and press that of
her father, Uncle John beamed upon her approvingly; for he knew what had
occurred and could sympathize with her delight.
The Duke, however, was more sombre than usual. He had defied his mother,
successfully, so far; but he feared the terrible old woman more than did
Tato, because he knew more of her history and of the bold and wicked
deeds she had perpetrated in years gone by. Only once had a proposed
victim escaped her, and that was when her own daughter Bianca had fallen
in love with an American held for ransom and spirited him away from the
valley through knowledge of the secret passage. It was well Bianca had
fled with her lover; otherwise her mother would surely have killed her.
But afterward, when the girl returned to die in the old home, all was
forgiven, and only the hatred of her foreign husband, whose cruelty had
driven her back to Sicily, remained to rankle in the old Duchessa's
wicked heart.
No one knew her evil nature better than her son. He entertained a
suspicion that he had not conquered her by his recent opposition to her
will. Indeed, he would never have dared to brave her anger except for
Tato's sake. Tato was his idol, and in her defense the cowardly brigand
had for the moment become bold.
Tato laughed and chatted with Uncle John all through the meal, even
trying at times to cheer the doleful Ferralti, who was nearly as glum
and unsociable as her father. The servants and brigands at the lower end
of the table looked upon the little one admiringly. It was evident she
was a general favorite.
On the porch, after luncheon, the Duke broached the subject of the
ransoms again, still maintaining the fable of selling his antique
jewelry.
"Sir," said Uncle John, "I'm going to submit gracefully, but upon one
condition."
The Duke scowled.
"I allow no conditions," he said.
"You'd better allow this one," Uncle John replied, "because it will make
it easier for all of us. Of my own free will and accord I will make a
present to Tato of fifty thousand dollars, and she shall have it for her
dowry when she marries."
Tato clapped her hands.
"How did you know I am a girl, when I wear boys' clothes?" she asked.
Even the duke smiled, at that, but the next moment he shook his head
solemnly.
"It will not do, signore," he declared, answering Uncle John's
proposition. "This is a business affair altogether. You must purchase
the ring, and at once."
The little American sighed. It had been his last hope.
"Very well," he said; "have your own way."
"You will send to your friends for the money?"
"Whenever you say, Duke. You've got me in a hole, and I must wiggle out
the best way I can."
The brigand turned to Ferralti.
"And you, signore?" he asked.
"I do not know whether I can get the money you demand."
"But you will make the attempt, as I shall direct?"
"Yes."
"Then, signori, it is all finished. In a brief time you will leave my
hospitable roof."
"The sooner the better," declared Ferralti.
They sat for a time in silence, each busy with his thoughts.
"Go to your grandmother, Tato," said the Duke, "and try to make your
peace with her. If she is too angry, do not remain. To-morrow you must
go into town with letters from these gentlemen to their friends."
The child kissed him and went obediently to do his will. Then the
brigand spoke to Tommaso, who brought writing material from the house
and placed it upon a small table.
Uncle John, without further demur, sat down to write. The Duke dictated
what he should say, although he was allowed to express the words in his
own characteristic style, and he followed his instructions implicitly,
secretly admiring the shrewdness of the brigand's methods.
It was now Ferralti's turn. He had just seated himself at the table and
taken the pen when they were startled by a shrill scream from the rear
of the house. It was followed by another, and another, in quick
succession.
It was Tato's voice, and the duke gave an answering cry and sprang from
the veranda to dart quickly around the corner of the house. Uncle John
followed him, nearly as fearful as the child's father.
Tommaso seized a short rifle that stood near and ran around the house in
the other direction, when Ferralti, who for a moment had seemed dazed by
the interruption, followed Tommaso rather than the others.
As they came to the rear they were amazed to see the old Duchessa, whom
they had known to be feeble and dependent upon her women, rush through
the garden hedge with the agility of a man, bearing in her arms the
struggling form of little Tato.
The child screamed pitifully, but the woman glared upon Tommaso and
Ferralti, as she passed them, with the ferocity of a tiger.
"She is mad!" cried Ferralti. "Quick, Tommaso; let us follow her."
The brigand bounded forward, with the young man scarce a pace behind
him. The woman, running with wonderful speed in spite of her burden,
began to ascend a narrow path leading up the face of a rugged cliff.
A yell of anguish from behind for a moment arrested Ferralti's rapid
pursuit. Glancing back he saw the Duke running frantically toward them,
at the same time waving his arms high above his head.
"The pit!" he shouted. "She is making for the pit. Stop her, for the
love of God!"
Ferralti understood, and dashed forward again at full speed. Tommaso
also understood, for his face was white and he muttered terrible oaths
as he pressed on. Yet run as they might, the mad duchessa was inspired
with a strength so superhuman that she kept well in advance.
But the narrow path ended half way up the cliff. It ended at a deep
chasm in the rocks, the edge of which was protected by a large flat
stone, like the curb of a well.
With a final leap the old woman gained this stone, and while the
dreadful pit yawned at her feet she turned, and with a demoniacal laugh
faced her pursuers, hugging the child close to her breast.
Tommaso and Ferralti, who were nearest, paused instinctively. It was now
impossible for them to prevent the tragedy about to be enacted. The
Duke, spurred on by fear, was yet twenty paces in their rear, and in a
moment he also stopped, clasping his hands in a gesture of vain
entreaty.
"Listen, Lugui!" his mother called to him, in a dear, high voice. "This
is the child that has come between us and turned you from a man into a
coward. Here alone is the cause of our troubles. Behold! I will remove
it forever from our path."
With the words she lifted Tato high above her head and turned toward the
pit--that terrible cleft in the rocks which was believed to have no
bottom.
At her first movement Tommaso had raised his gun, and the Duke,
perceiving this, called to him in an agonized voice to fire. But either
the brigand wavered between his loyalty to the Duke or the Duchessa, or
he feared to injure Tato, for he hesitated to obey and the moments were
precious.
The child's fate hung in the balance when Ferralti snatched the weapon
from the brigand's hands and fired it so hastily that he scarcely seemed
to take aim.
A wild cry echoed the shot. The woman collapsed and fell, dropping Tato
at her feet, where they both tottered at the edge of the pit. The child,
however, clung desperately to the outer edge of the flat stone, while
the Duchessa's inert form seemed to hesitate for an instant and then
disappeared from view.
Tommaso ran forward and caught up the child, returning slowly along the
path to place it in the father's arms. Ferralti was looking vaguely from
the weapon he held to the pit, and then back again, as if not fully
understanding what he had done.
"Thank you, signore," said the Duke, brokenly, "for saving my precious
child."
"But I have slain your mother!" cried the young man, horrified.
"The obligation is even," replied the duke. "She was also your
grandmother."
Ferralti stood motionless, his face working convulsively, his tongue
refusing to utter a sound.
"But he did not shoot my grandmother at all," said Tato, who was sobbing
against her father's breast; "for I heard the bullet strike the rock
beside us. My grandmother's strength gave way, and she fainted. It was
that that saved me, padre mia."