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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A yETTA TORE
269
“Is it no longer raining?” said the jettatore, in
an uncertain voice.
“ It is not raining; how could it be raining? The
Christ-image has taken the curse from you because
you are going to work for his railway.”
The man reeled and grasped at the air with his
hands. “ It is gone. Yes, I think it is gone. Just
now it was there. But now — ”
He wished again to fall on his knees before
Donna Micaela.
“Not to me,” she said; “to him, to him.” She
pointed to the Christ-image.
But nevertheless he fell down before her. He
kissed her hands, and with a voice broken by sobs
he told her how every one had hated and persecuted
him, and how much misery life had brought him
hitherto.
The next day the jettatore went out on Etna and
staked out the road. And he was no more dangerous
than any one else.
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