Note: Translator Pauline Bancroft Flach died in 1966, less than 70 years ago. Therefore, this work is protected by copyright, restricting your legal rights to reproduce it. However, you are welcome to view it on screen, as you do now. Read more about copyright.
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THE OLD MARTYRDOM
223
persuaded her father to go with her to the theatre.
She knew well that a signora had never set her foot
in Don Antonio’s theatre, but she needed to see
how it was going to be. It would be such a dizzily
great success for her railway if Don Antonio
succeeded.
When Donna Micaela came to the theatre it was
a few minutes before eight, and Donna Emilia had
not sold a ticket.
But she was not depressed; “ Go in, Donna
Micaela ! “ she said; “ we shall play at any rate, it is
so beautiful. Don Antonio will play it for you and
your father and me. It is the most beautiful thing
he has ever performed.”
Donna Micaela came into the little hall. It was
hung with black, as the big theatres always were in
the old days when “ The Old Martyrdom “ was given.
There were dark, silver-fringed curtains on the
stage, and the little benches were covered with
black.
Immediately after Donna Micaela came in, Don
Antonio’s bushy eyebrows appeared in a little hole
in the curtain. “ Donna Micaela,” he cried, as
Donna Emilia had done, “ we shall play at any rate.
It is so beautiful, it needs no spectators.”
Just then came Donna Emilia herself, and opened
the door, and courtesying, held it back. It was the
priest, Don Matteo, who entered.
“What do you say to me, Donna Micaela?” he
said, laughing. “ But you understand; it is 4 The
Old Martyrdom.’ I saw it in my youth at the big
opera in Palermo; and I believe that it was that old
play that made me become a priest.”
The next time the door opened it was Father Elia
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