never had a knife-play produced such general commotion in mulberry. though the motive for a removal was an affair wherewith outsiders seldom concerned themselves, the whole colony thirsted in this distinguished instance to know the wherefore of bertino’s desire to have his uncle’s life. this was a tidal wave of opportunity for sara the frier of pepper pods, and splendidly she rode upon it to renewed fortune. for months she had eaten the wormwood of a dishonoured oracle. she had told the people that rival loves dwelt beneath the roof of casa di bello, and that some day grand trouble would be the fruit; but as time wore on and the volcano gave no hint of eruption sara’s patrons[pg 173] flung the prophecy in her teeth and bought their fried pepper pods of an upstart competitor from the porta del carmine of naples. now she was able to brush the under side of her chin with the back of her hand when the aforetime scoffers passed, and ask triumphantly, “who was it, my stupid one, that foretold grand trouble in casa di bello?” no longer could her soothsaying power be doubted, and the morning after the letting of signor di bello’s blood many an old customer, eager for news, returned to sara’s frying pan, which sizzled all day with the steady rush of trade. in the singsong staccato of avelino she told all and much to boot of what she knew touching the great scandal. who but she had gone to signor di bello and told him how bertino had been seen to kiss the singer, and who but she had seen the stiletto that her words had caused to gleam in his eye? “but it was the other that played the knife,” her listeners would observe, critically. this was sara’s cue to nod her head mysteriously, say “no matter,” [pg 174]and look wiser than the plaster cast of dante that brooded, yellow with age and dusty, in the window of signor sereno the undertaker. and no more light could any one in mulberry shed on the matter, for juno and bertino had made excellent work of guarding the secret of their marriage.
public interest in the episode declined when, after one day of closure, the shutters were taken down and business went on as usual at the sign of the wooden bunch. a new assistant, to take the place of the fugitive bertino, was on hand; so was signor di bello, who looked not a hair the worse for the inexpert carving of which he had been the subject. while the patrons came and went he sat near the entrance, sprawled in his low chair, preoccupied, but answering with a grunt the many inquiries about his health. the etiquette of mulberry permits no closer reference than this to removal matters. a subject of vast import and demanding the grocer’s instant attention had sprouted that morning. it was in a letter[pg 175] received from carolina. he had just reached a conclusion—a fact he betokened by dealing himself a smart slap on the knee—when the form of juno appeared between him and the sunshine that poured in at the shop door.
“welcome, welcome, my angel!” he cried, springing up, but quickly pulling a grimace of pain as the wound in the shoulder gave a twinge. “ah! what good fortune! you are here, and so am i. see what kind of a man is signor di bello! to me a knife in the shoulder is a trifle. already i am well enough to go with you to the church. are you ready, mia vita?”
“wait a few days,” she said, with her frigid calm, “then i will tell you.”
“porco diavolo! wait, wait! always wait. i tell you i can not wait.”
“why?”
“i have my reason.”
“what is it?”
“ah! carina, don’t you know? well, it is because i can not live without you.” [pg 176]he said it with his upturned eyes pouring forth a sea of adoration. still it was only half the truth. had he disclosed the other half he would have told of his sister’s letter saying that she intended to sail for new york within a week. his spirit had quaked at the thought of bringing a wife to casa di bello when the redoubtable carolina should be on the ground, and the conviction grew upon him that when the moment came he should not be able to muster the courage needed for such an enterprise. wherefore he resolved to wed juno and plant her in casa di bello in advance of carolina’s re-entrance upon the scene.
“you have your reason for not waiting,” she said, impressed not at all by his amatory demonstration. “good. i have my reason for waiting.”
she walked out of the shop without saying more, leaving him wondering if, after all, he were going to lose her. as she made her way through the hordes of mulberry she was the target of every eye and [pg 177]tongue. men gazed at her in admiration and women pelted her with scornful darts, because of her proud bearing as well as her coquetry that had set blood against blood.
“a rogue of a woman,” said a brown daughter of sicily, fanning the flies from her naked babe.
“rather. who knows what she is or where she came from?”
to all of this and much more juno moved on in haughty disregard. at the mouth of the alley of the moon she was greeted with profit-receiving deference by her landlady, luigia the garlic woman, who handed her a letter. bertino’s writing! seated on the bed in her darkling cubicle upstairs, she read the missive, which was postmarked jamaica, long island:
cara juno: did i kill him? address post office, jamaica, long island. b.
for a moment she sat staring at but not seeing a gaudy print of the sistine madonna that hung in a faint shaft of light. [pg 178]then she sprang up and hurried down the narrow staircase to the restaurant. seated in the place on the long bench that signor di bello occupied when bertino broke up their little meeting, she called for writing materials and penned these lines:
caro bertino: your uncle is very low. will write soon. j.
as she carried the letter to the red box on the corner her stoical face gave no token of satisfaction felt by reason of the simple but clean solution of a vexed problem which bertino’s letter had supplied. ten minutes later she stood in the doorway of signor di bello’s shop.
“ah, angelo mio, welcome again!” was his greeting. then with an air of secrecy: “but sh——! sh——! not a word here. that boy! his ears are very large and his tongue is long. every word we said before he heard. come, let us go for a promenade.”
they crossed to paradise park and mounted the broad staircase to the pavilion [pg 179]where the band plays, and took seats in a corner apart from the gabbling women and their swarms of yellow children. without ado she came to the point:
“my answer is ready. i will be your wife.”
“joy!” he cried. “but it must be at once. within the week. the next feast of sunday.”
“the feast of sunday.”
“ah, what a wedding it shall be! the finest ever seen in mulberry. listen, mia diletta, and i will give you my idea. in an open carriage, with white and purple plumes in the horses’ heads, we shall go to the church of san patrizio. shall it be san patrizio or san loretto? for me san patrizio is most agreeable.”
“for me too,” said juno. “at san loretto one finds too many sicilian pigs.”
“you are right. in the afternoon, then, you wait in the restaurant of santa lucia, all ready in your white gown and orange blossoms. ah, how magnificent you will——”
[pg 180]
“bah!” she interrupted. “white gown and orange blossoms! where do you think i am to get them? let me tell you something, signore: i am poor.”
“by the chains of colombo, then, i am not!” he exclaimed jubilantly. “you shall have them, and the finest in all grand street. here, see what kind of a man your promised spouse is!”
from an inside pocket of his waistcoat he drew a large calfskin wallet bound about many times with stout cord, and took from the plenteous store therein one ten-dollar note. this he handed to juno with a proud “there my angel.”
“thank you,” she said faintly, turning over the bill.
“and yellow boots you shall have,” he went on; “just like the ones signorina crotelli had last sunday. i saw them when she and pietro went up the church steps. which do you like best, yellow or white boots?”
“i think yellow boots for a bride are [pg 181]very sympathetic,” she answered, folding the bank note and tying it in a corner of her handkerchief. and without a moment’s delay she set off for grand street, where the flower of mulberry does its shopping.
two hours afterward, her arms heaped with bundles, and every cent of the ten dollars gone, she appeared in the kitchen of her landlady and shocked her with tidings of the nuptials so near at hand.
“body of the serpent!” remarked the garlic woman. “in the morning you are a woman without hope, and in the evening you come back the promised wife of a rich signore.”
while she shook her head in doubt and suspicion, juno spread out many yards of purple satin, white lace and pink lining, a wreath of muslin orange blossoms that should give no poisonous odour, a pair of white stockings, and—the sympathetic yellow boots. as the bent crone gazed at the finery her zincky visage lost the hard cast put upon it by a lifetime of penny-splitting [pg 182]bargain and sale. a tender light filled her eye, and she lived again in the sweet days of her youth. where was the soldier boy that her girlish heart loved? where the dashing bersagliere that led her to church in the mountain village? a great mound in northern africa—the tomb of a whole regiment—could answer. across the mind of juno there flashed a thought of her husband and the crime upon which she was about to enter, but the next instant it perished as she snatched up the purple satin to preserve it from danger, for old luigia had stained it with a tear.
they plied their needles early and late, and when the feast of sunday dawned juno was ready for the church. all mulberry knew of the great event in preparation, and made high store of attending the ceremony at the altar; but only the first families of the torinesi, milanesi, and genovesi, and the upper lights of the calabriani, the siciliani, and the napolitani were bidden to the feast at casa di bello. when angelica received [pg 183]the command to make ready this feast, she declared to signor di bello that a malediction had fallen on the house. to this he returned only a stout guffaw. it was a terrible blow to the cook, who was in full accord with carolina’s policy of a closed door to wives. many months she had longed for the return of her mistress, lest this very calamity might betide during her absence. o poor signorina carolina! to come back just too late to keep out the napolitana—the baggage above all others against whom she wished to close the door. she knew it, she knew it! in her dreams she had seen juno the superb queening it over her in the kitchen, ordering more garlic in this, more red pepper in that, and making everything fit only for neapolitan pigs to eat. maria have mercy, but she must obey. so, taking up her big basket, she had gone forth to market, with face long and voice doleful, and poured into the eager ears of sara the frier of pepper pods and the group of raven heads always about her, the story of [pg 184]the dreadful rush going on to plant in casa di bello the woman whom carolina had crossed the seas to keep out.
though a stone of composure in all the other turns that her adventuring course had taken, juno lost her calm a little in the haste and flurry of constructing the nuptial gown. as an effect she failed until the last moment to discharge a duty very needful to the success of her plans. the oversight did not occur to her until sunday afternoon, at the moment when she was seated in the chair of chiara the hair comber, receiving the marvellous wedding coiffure for which that artist was famous. the hair dressing accomplished, juno lost no time in going to the restaurant and penning these words, taking great care with the spelling, and making sure that the address, “post office, jamaica, long island,” should be correct:
dear bertino: your uncle died to-day. fly from america. the man-hunters are after you! j.
[pg 185]
then she put on the gorgeous purple gown, and called the garlic woman to button the yellow boots. and while the bells of san patrizio pealed, and the people, dressed in their sunday clothes, moved toward the church gates, juno waited—waited for the open carriage with its plumed horses that should bear her to the altar with signor di bello.
