I saw Fabriccio standing beside the old man. I saw him place his hand upon the old man’s shoulder, and then I heard his words as if echoing through a strange silence:
“Father—on this happy day, let us not forget poor Nicolo, who with wife and child and poverty—”
There was no way to help now. With distended eyes, white with rage, the old man jumped up. I saw Fabriccio stagger back, then start to run after the old man through the open door. There was noise and confusion on the stairs—then I saw the little bride throw herself upon the dead body of Fabriccio.
Three days later they found the old man in hiding in a house of ill-fame. Poor little Nine!
L. G. CARAGIALE
EASTER CANDLES
LEIBA ZIBAL, proprietor of the little rest-house by Podeni, is sitting thoughtfully under the projecting roof in front of the wine shop waiting for the stage which is already overdue an hour.
The life story of Zibal is long and it is not particularly merry. But now, in his present condition when he is suffering so from fever, it is a genuine amusement for him to parade before his mind its various incidents.