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.
Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - Second book - VIII. A Jettatore
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has been proofread at least once.
(diff)
(history)
Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
(skillnad)
(historik)
A yETTA TORE
257
the minister. Neither of them would listen to the
complaint. They were too sensible and too learned
to believe in the evil eye. The workmen ought to
mind better what they were about. It was their
own fault that they met with accidents.
And the gravel-cars tipped over; the locomotive
exploded.
One morning there was a rumor that the engineer
was gone. He had disappeared; no one knew what
had become of him. Had some one perhaps stabbed
him ? Oh, no; oh, no! would any one have dared to
kill a jettatoref
But he was really gone; no one ever saw him
again.
It was a few years later that Donna Micaela began
to think of building her railway. And in order to
get money for it, she wished to hold a bazaar in the
great Franciscan monastery outside Diamante.
There was a cloister garden there, surrounded
by splendid old pillars. Donna Micaela arranged
little booths, little lotteries, and little places of
diversion under the arcades. She hung festoons of
Venetian lanterns from pillar to pillar. She piled
up great kegs of Etna wine around the cloister
fountain.
While Donna Micaela worked there she often
conversed with little Gandolfo, who had been made
watchman at the monastery since Fra Felice’s
death.
One day she made Gandolfo show her the whole
monastery. She went through it all from attic to
cellar, and when she saw those countless little cells
with their grated windows and whitewashed walls
and hard wooden seats, she had an idea.
17
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
