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 BELLS OF SAN PASQUALE ’ 109
Felice was beloved. It would fare badly with
whoever said such things as that.
Donna Micaela also came out to San Pasquale
and took her father with her. She walked with her
head high and quite without fear. She came to
thank him for having rung a great passion into
her soul. “My life begins this day,” she said to
herself.
Don Ferrante did not seem to be afraid either, but
he was grim and angry. For every one had to go in
to him in his shop, and tell him what they thought,
and hear his opinion, because he was one of the
Alagonas, who had governed the town for so many
years.
All day terrified, trembling people came into his
shop. And they all came up to him and said:
“This is a terrible ringing, Don Ferrante. What
is to become of us, Don Ferrante ?”
Even Ugo Favara, the splenetic advocate, came
into the shop, and took a chair, and sat down behind
the counter. And Don Ferrante had him sitting
there all day, quite livid, quite motionless, suffering
the most inconceivable anguish without uttering a
word.
Every five minutes Torino-il-Martello came in
and struck the counter, saying that the hour had come
in which Don Ferrante was to get his punishment.
Don Ferrante was a hard man, but he could no
more escape the bells than any other. And the
longer he heard them, the more he began to wonder
why everybody streamed into his shop. It seemed
as if they meant something special. It seemed as
if they wished to make him responsible for the ring
ing, and the evil it portended.
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