A little keen steel blade was glistening in her hand, and the next instant Luigi was stabbed through his treacherous heart. He fell senseless at the feet of his newly wedded bride.
The frightened wedding guests, fearing a fainting spell, rushed to him, but the blood was now flowing freely from the spot where she had stabbed him. Nobody saw her do it. He was quickly carried into the monastery, followed by the wedding guests.
Concetta uttered a wild cry, and rushed weeping aloud down the hill towards the harbor. It was already dark; the wind was now blowing with the vehemence of a hurricane over the foaming waters, and the roar of thunder shook the bathing-houses on the left hand side of the harbor. Concetta, with a sudden headlong rush, breathless and horrified had reached the landing pier. With a loud cry she threw herself into the foaming waves and disappeared.
At the same moment her father and brother Salvatore, running after her, had reached the water.
Poor Niccolo, trembling in every limb, was at first rendered almost helpless with horror; but the despair which began to hold sway over him gave him now superhuman strength. With frantic haste he unfastened his little boat, and rowed gesticulating wildly to the spot where he had seen her sink. He loved his only daughter with a love that was akin to idolatry. His grey hair fluttered wildly about his furrowed and heated brow; great tears trickled down his dark cheeks, and panting aloud he gazed down into the foaming gloomy depths.
"Santissima!" he cried aloud, "Madonna! My greatest treasure—my only child! Have mercy!"
A vivid flash of lightning illuminated the stormy surface and then—he saw the red dress floating upon the waves. "Cara mia!" he cried, with a stammering tongue, wild with joy when he had grasped her and dragged the dear form into the boat. Calling her ceaselessly by endearing names, he pressed her to his heart as though to bring back warmth and life to her young body, and covered her dear face with passionate kisses, but the beautiful head fell back pale and lifeless; the great blue eyes were closed; she was dead.
With horror in his wide strained eyes, and pallor on his quivering lips, he gazed at the prostrate form before him, the lifeless eyes staring now blankly at the sky,—the hue of life and exuberant health still glowing on the full cheeks adorned with every grace of youth and beauty.
"Morte—morte!" stammered the father, frantic with grief, tearing his grey hair despairingly. No merry glance, no roguish smile she had any more for him.