“Who gave you that watch?” she asked in a harsh tone.
“My cousin the adjutant.”
Falcone seized the watch, and hurled it against a stone, breaking it into a thousand pieces.
“Woman,” he said, “is this child mine?”
Giuseppa’s brown cheeks turned a brick red.
“What do you say, Mateo? Do you know who you’re talking to?”
“Well, this child is the first of his race that ever did an act of treachery.”
Fortunato’s sobs and hiccoughs redoubled in force, and Falcone still kept his lynx-eyes fastened on him. At last he struck the butt of his gun on the ground, then threw it over his shoulder again and started back toward the maquis, calling to Fortunato to follow him. The child obeyed.
Giuseppa ran after Mateo and grasped his arm.
“He is your son,” she said in a trembling voice, fixing her black eyes on her husband’s, as if to read what was taking place in his mind.