“I don’t know,” was the short answer, as the barber made hurried preparations for shaving his customers.
He was anything but nervous in a general way, but to-day his hand trembled so much that he would certainly have performed his duties very clumsily if he had not made a great effort to recover his self-command.
“What does it mean?” he muttered, when he found himself once more alone. “What am I to do with it? I wonder whether it is a vow; I know the women about here do make strange vows sometimes; but she is so clever and sensible and not at all superstitious.”
Don Ernano thought over the affair for some time, but as he could not arrive at any conclusion, he locked the plait of hair up in his cupboard, and spent the next few hours in a rather uncomfortable state of mind, feeling that he was involved against his will in a matter which he did not understand.
IV.
Lucia reached Palenella again about midday, and rode into the village holding in her hand the kerchief she usually wore on her head, a circumstance which of itself would have been enough to attract attention, since uncovered heads were rarely seen in the village. But, as the absence of the kerchief revealed the fact that her heavy plait had disappeared leaving only a short, stubbly stump to show where once it had been, it was not many minutes before the whole village was exclaiming, “Lucia’s hair has been cut off!”
The news had spread like wild fire even before Lucia reached her own door, and was speedily confirmed, if confirmation were needed, by the fearful outburst of weeping and wailing with which Mother Ceprano received her disfigured daughter.
The old woman wrung her hands, tore her hair, uttered maledictions, screamed and howled so wildly that she was heard even in the farthermost houses, and the whole population speedily collected round the house.
Lucia had not yet dismounted, and there she now sat on the mule, looking perfectly calm and collected, while the children danced round her mocking and jeering, and the men and women whispered and gazed in astonishment.
It must be confessed that the villagers’ first feeling was one of hearty satisfaction in the proud Lucia’s humiliation. But they quite expected to see some young man appear waving the plait in triumph, and when they found this did not happen, their gratification gave way to wrath and indignation against the unknown person who had done the deed. The pride of the whole community was hurt, and wild voices were heard shouting, “Whoever it was he shall not go unpunished! A girl of our village—he has insulted us all, every one—he shall make it good or pay for it with his life!”