“Perhaps, or to Sicily,” said the older woman, looking keenly at her. “In that case—”
“Yes?” said Peppina, eagerly leaning forward.
“Cesare might tell them a little about the Mafia. Eh?”
The girl drew suddenly back, her face white. It took her a minute to recover herself.
“The Mafia? What is that?” she said, trying to speak carelessly and failing, for her voice shook.
“Who knows? Ask Cesare.—Assunta, in there, will you never have done with those unfortunate dishes? Go, Fernanda, go and see if she is sleeping.”
Peppina went away quickly. She told herself that she would be very careful not to mention the word Mafia to Cesare, as he would be sure to think she had been in some way to blame for its name having been so much as breathed. Those who have to do with such secret societies as the Camorra or the Mafia do not talk of them, and to the ignorant world the names convey a theatrical rather than a real meaning. This does not prevent their existing, and in a more extended network than we might conceive possible. The Mafia, indeed, exists, and has existed since the time of the Moors in Sicily, when, law and justice being unattainable, the secret society was formed to apply them in a rough and ready fashion. Then it was probably useful; now it serves only for private revenge. And as private revenge is an unfailing incentive, a society which allows its members to strike, and then protects it by the terror of its name, will never want adherents or the help of the devil.
Peppina was not thinking of all this as she went back to the hotel, swinging her body from the hips with the free lithe gait of a Trastevere woman. She was only reflecting how she could best adapt the little she had gathered from Nina to Cesare’s wishes. Her love for him was passionate, but it was so largely mixed with fear—particularly since that dark episode in his life—that it was doubtful which excitement was at any time uppermost. She lied to him as readily as to any one else, only she took more care not to be found out. As she reached the end of the Sistina she stopped to buy a few hot chestnuts, and Cesare at the same moment came up the Tritone.
“Did I startle you?” he said, taking the chestnuts she held out to him.
“No; why should you?” asked the girl simply. “Am I not always thinking of you? Where are you going?”