Once, in a deserted corner of the city wall, she came across another woman: she was kneeling by the side of a corpse, and praying with face uplifted to the stars; on the wall, above her head, sentinels were talking quietly; their guns clattered as they knocked against the projecting stones of the wall.
The traitor's mother inquired:
"Your husband?"
"No."
"Brother?"
"Son. My husband was killed thirteen days ago; this one to-day."
And, rising, the mother of the dead man said humbly:
"The Madonna sees everything, she knows everything, and I thank her!"
"What for?" asked Marianna, and the other replied:
"Now that he has fallen with honour, fighting for his fatherland, I can say that he sometimes caused me anxiety: he was reckless, fond of pleasure, and I feared lest for that reason he might betray the town, as Marianna's son has done, the enemy of God and men, the leader of our foes; accursed be he and accursed be the womb that bore him!"