Herrick translated. With one impulse the three men turned toward the slide in the paneling. It was closed. But their intent listening made sure of more than one soft touch, straying in search of the mechanism. Of crowding whispers they could not be so sure. Herrick reached for Nicola's gun. But it had only one charge and then, indeed, though without turning her head, Christina closed her hand on his and took it from him. "That's mine, you know!" No man gainsaid her and she put it in her breast. Undisguised, unhurried footsteps sounded overhead. An alien presence pervaded all that house. Caged in their shelter, they drew together, close under the balcony. Christina suffered herself to be drawn with them, but she was considering aloud the Sicilian's words.
"My golden pistol!" Christina looked from the little femininely jeweled dummy to the script, "'Filippi Alieni and all his house'—And all his house! 'The death of traitors'—My husband, you say? The Signora Alieni—A. A. A. Alieni, of course! But—Allegra?—Allegra?—Alieni?"
"Signora Alieni!" Gumama smilingly repeated.
The girl gave him one glance, sprang past him and flung herself against the shuttered windows. "Whom do you mean by traitors?" she called. "For whom do you take us? Answer! Answer!"
At the sound of her voice a deep-bayed, many-throated yell roared out derision and victory. As the men dragged Christina back a coarse laugh mocked loudly from across the road. "Signora Alieni, we rejoice at the last to salute you!" And the whole woodland took up his phrase in chorus, "Buona sera, Signora Alieni!"
Then, uncontrollably, at length the darkness volleyed, the earth was rived with sound and fire, the flashes of it scorching their skin while glass, plaster, woodwork, split and spattered round them as through the windows the hail beat.
CHAPTER VI
THE DARKEST HOUR: "OF WOUNDS AND SORE DEFEAT I MADE MY BATTLE STAY!"
Christina's stream of Italian left Herrick so far behind that he could only watch the incredulity of Gumama's face turn to doubt and then to reflection. The word "American" was often repeated, and then came Gumama's slower answer, puzzling out the question—But was not the Signora Alieni herself much American? Did not she to-night meet here in this house her brother Nicola? And was she not to run away at sunrise with—and he pointed to Herrick—an American? And how well was it not known that the Signora Alieni was bella, bella donna?—"Bella—bella!" with mounting fervor he violently repeated.