“Leave me alone,” said Mateo, “I am his father.”
Giuseppa embraced her son, and bursting into tears entered the house. She threw herself on her knees before an image of the Virgin and prayed ardently. In the meanwhile Falcone walked some two hundred paces along the path and only stopped when he reached a little ravine which he descended. He tried the earth with the butt-end of his carbine, and found it soft and easy to dig. The place seemed to be convenient for his design.
“Fortunato, go close to that big rock there.”
The child did as he was commanded, then he kneeled.
“Say your prayers.”
“Oh, father, father, do not kill me!”
“Say your prayers!” repeated Mateo in a terrible voice.
The boy, stammering and sobbing, recited the Pater and the Credo. At the end of each prayer the father loudly answered, “Amen!”
“Are those all the prayers you know?”
“Oh! father, I know the Ave Maria and the litany that my aunt taught me.”