“You would not take the silk kerchief, Cousin Lia,” he said to the girl, who turned red as a poppy, “but I have come all the same, because I like you all so much. What is your brother ’Ntoni doing now?”
Now Mena turned red too, when he asked what her brother ’Ntoni was doing, for he was doing nothing. And Don Michele went on: “I am afraid he will do something that you will not like, your brother ’Ntoni. I am your friend, and I take no notice; but when another brigadier comes in my place he will be wanting to know what your brother is always about with Cinghialenta and that other pretty specimen, Rocco Spatu, down by the Rotolo in the evening, or walking about the downs, as if they had nothing to do but to wear out their shoes. Look after him well, Cousin Mena, and listen to what I tell you tell him not to go so much with that meddling old wretch Goosefoot, in Vanni Pizzuti’s shop, for we know everything; and he will come to harm among them. The others are old foxes. And you had better tell your grandfather to stop him from walking so much up and down the beach, for the beach is not meant to walk about on; and the cliffs of the Rotolo have ears, tell him; and one can see very well, even without glasses, the boats that put out from there at dusk, as if they were going to fish for bats. Tell him this, Cousin Mena; and tell him, too, that this warning comes from one who is your friend. As for Master Cinghialenta, and Rocco Spatu, and Vanni Pizzuti as well, we have our eye on them. Your brother trusts old Goosefoot, but he does not know that the coastguards have a percentage on smuggled goods, and that they always manage to get hold of some one of a gang, and give him a share to spy on them that they may be surprised.”
Mena opened her eyes still wider, and turned pale, without quite understanding all this long speech; but she had been trembling already for fear that her brother would get into trouble with the men in uniform. Don Michele, to give her courage, took her hand, and went on:
“If it came to be known that I had warned you, it would be all over with me. I am risking my uniform in telling you this, because I am so fond of all you Malavoglia. But I should be very sorry if your brother got into trouble. No, I don’t want to meet him some night in some ugly place where he has no business; no, I wouldn’t have it happen to catch a booty worth a thousand francs, upon my honor I wouldn’t.”
The poor girls hadn’t a moment’s peace after Don Michele had warned them of this new cause of anxiety. They didn’t shut their eyes of a night, waiting behind the door for their brother, sometimes until very late, trembling with cold and terror, while he went singing up and down the streets with Rocco Spatu and the rest of the gang, and the poor girls seemed to hear the cries and the shots as they had heard them that night when there was the talk of hunting two-legged quail.
“You go to bed, and to sleep,” said Mena to her sister; “you are too young for such things as this.”
To her grandfather she said nothing, for she wished to spare him this fresh trouble, but to ’Ntoni, when she saw him a little more quiet than usual, sitting at the door with his chin upon his hands, she took courage to say: “What are you doing, going about with Rocco Spatu and Cinghialen-ta? You have been seen with them at the Rotolo and on the downs. And beware of Goosefoot. Remember how Jesus said to John, ‘Beware of them whom God has marked.’”
“Who told you that?” said ’Ntoni, leaping up as if he were possessed. “Tell me who told you.”
“Don Michele told me,” she answered, with tearful eyes. “He told me that you should beware of Goosefoot, and that to catch the smugglers they had to get information from some one of the gang.”
“He told you nothing else?”