Note: Translator Pauline Bancroft Flach died in 1966, less than 70 years ago. Therefore, this work is protected by copyright, restricting your legal rights to reproduce it. However, you are welcome to view it on screen, as you do now. Read more about copyright.
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66 THE MIRACLES OF AJVTICHRIST
Ferrante? Gaetano, who only saw him when he
stood in the shop with his tufts of hair and his short
jacket, did not know what kind of a man he was.
He considered him an ugly old tradesman, who had
a wrinkled face and a rough beard. No one knew
Don Ferrante who had not seen him on Sunday,
when he conducted the music.
That day he had donned a new uniform. He
wore a three-cornered hat with green, red, and white
feathers, silver on his collar, silver-fringed
epaulets, silver braid on his breast, and a sword at his
side. And when he stepped up to the conductor’s
platform the wrinkles had been smoothed out of his
face and his figure had grown erect. He could
almost have been called handsome.
When he had led Cavalleria, people had hardly
been able to breathe. What had Gaetano to say to
that, that the big houses round the market-place had
sung too? From the black Palazzo Geraci, Donna
Elisa had distinctly heard a love song, and from the
convent, empty as it was, a beautiful hymn had
streamed out over the market-place.
And when there was a pause in the music the
handsome advocate Favara, who had been dressed in
a black velvet coat and a big broad-brimmed hat
and a bright red necktie, had gone up to Don
Ferrante, and had pointed out over the open side
of the square, where Etna and the sea lay. “ Don
Ferrante,” he had said, “you lift us toward the skies,
just as Etna does, and you carry us away into the
eternal, like the infinite sea.”
If Gaetano had seen Don Ferrante to-day he
would have loved him. At least he would have
been obliged to acknowledge his stateliness. When
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