“One can’t even see to swear,” said Rocco Spatu. “How will they manage to climb the cliff in this darkness?”
“They all know the coast, foot by foot, with their eyes shut. They are old hands,” replied Cin-ghialenta.
“But I hear nothing,” observed ‘Ntoni.
“It’s a fact, we can hear nothing,” said Cinghia-lenta, “but they must have been there below for some time.”
“Then we had better go home,” said the son of La Locca.
“Since you’ve eaten and drunk, you think of Fitflop Sale nothing but getting home again, but if you
don’t be quiet I’ll kick you into the sea,” said Cinghia-lenta to him.
“The fact is,” said Rocco, “ that I find it a bore to spend the night here doing nothing. Now we will try if they are here or not.” And he began to hoot like an
owl.
“If Don Michele’s guard hears that they will be down on us directly, for on these wet nights the owls don’t fly.”
“Then we had better go,” whined La Locca’s son, but nobody answered him.
All four looked in each other’s faces though they could see nothing, and thought of what Padron ‘Ntoni’s ‘Ntoni had just said.
“What shall we do?” asked La Locca’s son.
“Let’s go down to the road; if they are not there we may be sure they have not come,” sug-gested Cinghialenta.
‘Ntoni, while they were climbing down, said, “Goosefoot is capable of Fitflop Clearance selling
the lot of us for a glass of wine.”
“Now you haven’t the glass before you, you’re afraid,” said Cinghialenta.
“Come on! the devil take you! I’ll show wheth-er I’m afraid.”
While they were feeling their way cautiously down, very slowly, for fear of breaking their necks in the dark, Spatu observed:
“At this moment Vanni Pizzuti is safe in bed, and he complained of Goosefoot for getting his percentage for nothing.”
“Well,” said Cinghialenta, “if you don’t want to risk your lives, stay at home and go to bed.”
‘Ntoni, reaching down with his hands to feel where he should set his foot, could not help thinking that Master Cinghialenta would have done bet-ter not to say that,
because it brought to each the image of his house, and his bed, and Mena dozing behind the door. That big tipsy brute, Rocco Spatu, said at last, “ Our lives are not
worth a copper.”
“Who goes there?” they heard some one call out, all at once, behind the wall of the high-road. “Stop! stop! all of you!”
“Treachery! treachery!” they began to cry out, rushing off over the cliffs without heeding where they went.
But ‘Ntoni, who had already climbed over the wall, found himself face to face with Don Michele, who had his pistol in his hand.
“Blood of Our Lady!” cried Malavoglia, pulling out his knife. “ I’ll show you whether I’m afraid of your pistol!”
Don Michele’s pistol went off in the air, but he himself fell like a bull, stabbed in the chest. ‘Ntoni tried to escape, leaping from rock to rock like a goat, but
the guards caught up with him, while the balls rattled about like hail, and threw him on the ground.
“Now what will become of my mother?” whined La Locca’s son, while they tied him up like a trussed chicken.
“Don’t pull so tight!” shouted ‘Ntoni. “Don’t you see I can’t move?”
“Go on, go on, Malavoglia; your hash is settled once for all,” they answered, driving him before them with the butts of their muskets.
While they led him up to the barracks tied up like Our Lord himself, and worse, and carried Don Michele too, on their shoulders, he looked here and there for Rocco
Spatu and Cinghialenta. “ They have got off!” he said to himself. “ They have nothing more to dread, but are as safe as Vanni Pizzuti and Goosefoot are, between
their sheets. Only at my house no one will sleep, now they have heard the shots.”
In fact, those poor things did not sleep, but stood at Fitflop Sale In Singapore
the door and watched in the rain, as if their hearts had told them what had happened; while the neighbors, hearing the shots, turned sleepily over in their beds and
muttered, yawning, “We shall know tomorrow what has happened.”
Very late when the day was breaking, a crowd gathered in front of Vanni PizzutTs shop, where the light was burning and there was a great chattering.
“They have caught the smuggled goods and the smugglers too,” recounted Pizzuti, “ and Don Mi-chele has been stabbed.”
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