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OVER THE EIVER.
Over the river they beckon to me,
Loved ones who’ve crossed to the further side;
The gleam of their snowy robes I see,
But their voices are lost in the lashing tide.
There’s one with ringlets Os sunny gold,
And eyes the reflection of Heaven’s own blue;
He crossed in the twilight gray and cold,
And the pale mist hid him from mortal view;
We saw not the angels who met-him there,
The gates of the city we could not see —
Over the river, over the river,
My brother stands waiting to welcome me.
Over the river the boatman pale
Carried another, the household pet;
Her brown curls waved in the gentle gale— •
Darling Mollie! I see her yet.
She crossed on her bosom her dimpled hands,
And fearlessly entered tho phantom bark;
We felt it glide from the silver sands,
And all onr sunshine grew strangely dark.
We know she is safe on the further side,
Where all the ransomed and angels be;
Over the river, the mystic river,
My childhood’s idol is waiting for me.
For none return from those quiet shores,
Who cross with the boatman cold and pale;
We hear the dip of the golden oars,
And catch a gleam of the snowy sail;
And 10l they pass from our yearning hearts,
They cross the stream, and arc gone for aye;
We may not sunder tho veil apart
That hides from our vision the gates of day;
We only know that their barks no more
May sail with us o’er life's stormy sea ;
Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore,
They watch, and beckon, and wait for me.
And I sit and think, when the sunset’s gold
Is flushing river, hill and shore, I
I shall one day stand by the water cold
And list for the sound of the boatman’s oar;
I idistil watch for the gleam of the flapping sail,
I shall hear the boat as it gains the strand,
I shall pass from sight with the boatman pale
ii’iniTffi better shore of the spirit-land.
Yed. who have gone before,
* ’ YSfpWfefSf .iteatfc shaft-Oarry me. •
THE WINE-SELLER’S DAUGHTER,
OE
THE NIGHT BEFORE THE
BATTLE OF NSW ORLEANS.
RY WILLIAM HENRY PECK.
Author of 11 The Brother't Vengeance" “ Vir
ginia Glencaire " “ Saul , the Renegade "
u The Moctoreon" 11 The Red Dwarf.'
“ The Family Doom" 11 The
Black Phantom" “ The
Corsican" 11 Blobs"
<L'C. } dec. , Ac.
COPYRIGHT SECURED.
CHAPTER IX—CONTINUED.
As it was not more than half-past
nine o’clock the weazen-faced lad was
still awake, though in the act of clos
ing the doors of the establishment.
Henry called his attention and
asked:
“ Has a young lady, with a black
■woman, called here to-night ?”
Weazen-face took his own time in
thinking about replying, until Henry
roused him with a slash across his
back.
“ Oh!” answered weazen-face, with
a yell and a jump. “Yes—a young
lady for medicine—Miss Hartly and
Gen. Allison’s black woman, Jane—
hello! is that you Captin Henry?”
Being assured that it was, weazen
face told all he knew and twice as
much more.
“ Were there any persons near when
Bhe was here?” asked Henry.
“ Let me see-yes—‘a fellow put his
head in and snatched it out as if he
emelt something dreadful sweet—it
.was Carlos, the Spaniard.”
“ Great Heaven !” ejaculated Hen
ry, spurring his horse. “We must
make haste. I have seen that villain
—one of the deserters from LaFitte’s
Barratarians.”
“As dangerous a rascal as any un
hanged,” remarked the chief of the
patroT. “We suspected that we saw
him driving a carriage in this vicinity
not half an hour ago—not on this
street but near here.”
“And was there any one in the
carriage?” exclaimed Henry, feeling
sick and faint.
“The. carriage was em pty, sir. For
I flashed the lantern into it as it rat
tled by—he wasdriving like mad,”
replied the sergeant.
“ Why did you not Btop or pursue
him ?”
“He gave the countersign, and we
recognized the carriage by its facings
and trappings.”
“ Whose carriage was it ?” demand
ed Henry.
“ Col. Hartly’s sir. No carriage is
IkteW iifJfettta literature Mefo, anti General MormatM
rigged out in the same style in this
city. The driver’s hat was slouched
over his face, but we could see that
he was a white man—Col; Hartly’s
regular driver is a black, named Cuba.
Still, the Colonel has a white driver.
No one could Buspect anything wrong
in seeing his carriage at any time, as
it has been much used by Gen. Jack
son and his aids while in the city.”
“We must see Col. Hartly immedi
ately,” remarked Henry, drawing
rein. “I am bewildered with fear for
the safety of Miss Ilartly—she is the
misßing,- lady—which is the shortest
way to the Colonel’s mansion ?”
Before the sergeant could reply a
deep groan was heard not far off and
and apparently proceeding from the
gutter.
“This way,” cried Henry, bound
ing his horse into the gloom whence
the groan arose.
The groan was repeated and appa
rently under the animal’s feet. Hen
ry sprang to the ground exclaiming :
“ Show the lantern, sergeant, here
is some wounded person. Jane!” he
added as the sergeant pushed back the
lantern-slide and discovered the pros
trate form of the poor woman.
“ My friends, what outrage has been
perpetrated ?—she has received two
severe blows upon the head,” cried
Henry. “Jane! speak Jane! We
are friends —I am Captain Allison—
don’t you know your master? What
has happened ?—where is Miss
Hartly ?”
Jane, who had recovered from the
stunning effects of Carlos’ brutal blows
many minutes before Henry’s arrival,
but had been in mortal fear of allow
ing any signs of life until she heard
the patrol, now scrambled to her feet
and cried out i
“ She’s runned off wid ! Day’s
captured her—dem British—l font
like a tiger and tore the har out of i
five of dare heads—l kicked, and I:
bit, and I fit, and I bit, and I yelled;
but ten of ’em stabbed me with the
swords and a hundred knocked my I
head all to pieces with musketters—
that’s all I know.” . ' ■
iant Jane scattered around, but Hen
ry’s searching questions at length- got
a general outline of the affair and he
inquired:
“ Was it Col. Hartly’s carriage ?”
“ Good Lor’ ! ’Twas all dark—we
just felt our way along to it,” said the
bewildered servant. “De carridge
lamps war’nt lit, marster Henry.”
A horseman dashed by at fuli speed
with the words:
“ Chalmette ! To the sick 1”
“It is Dr. Burritt,” observed
Henry.
“ The truest man to his patients in
America,” said the sergeant. “ God
bless him!”
“ So say I,” said Henry, and then
continued, “ Sergeant, let one of your
men accompany this woman to my
father’s gate. We must hasten to
Col. Hartly’s.”
“ Who goes there ?” suddenly ex
claimed the sergeant, spurring his
horse towards a form dimly visible in
the dying rays of the street lamp—in
in those days hanging from a beam
extending into the street.
“A friend,” said the unknown,
“ Advance and give the counter
sign.”
“ Chalmette ,” was the reply.
“On whoseaffairs?” demanded the
sergeant, flashing the lantern upon the
stranger.
“ My own,” said the deep voice of
Victor St. John, dropping his cloak
from his face.
“Ah, is it you, Captain St, John,”
cried the sergeant, “ The nephew of
so true a patriot as Gen. Harper, may
pass unquestioned.”
“I pass unquestioned as Captain
Victor St. John, and not because I
am'the nephew of any man,” said St.
John, haughtily, and striking the hilt
of his sabre fiercely. Then, as by a
turn of the lantern he saw the pale
and proud face of Captain Allison
looking down upon him he touched his
chapeau slightly and continued s
“ What news from the camp, Cap
tain Allison ?”
“ The camp regrets that Captain
St. John had the misfortune not to
fight at Detroit, as it loses his valua
ble services now,” replied Henry,
riding on, leaving St. John in doubt
whether the speech was a compliment
or an insult.
The sergeant and his follower rode
after Henry, and St. John hurled a
muttered imprecation after the parley,
saying;
“ The bird has been missed, but
they cannot trace the snarer. I’ll
put your head under my heel ere long,
Henry Allison—*! have your heart
there now, my gay war-eagle. But I
must to the fortune teller’s—or rather
the pawn-broker’s—l think the knave
Is a Jew and it puzzles me to recall
where I have seen those clear cut
Italian features— it must have been in
GREENVIfcLE, GEORGIA, WEDNESDAY, MAY 22, 1861.
Florence—such rascals flourish thefre,
like mites in cheese. Curse these
rough streets—l was within an acq oj
falling. Dark—but they will be fell
lighted before dawn. Packenlam
will advance at dawn while New (Or
leans is in flames—ho, for Beauty and
Booty 1 This thing well accomplished
will behold me a British Brigadier
with a Sir to my name, wealth in my
puyse and Viola my wife 1 1780 had
its Bendict Arnold, let l ,a *fi v have Us
Victor St. John.” c - '’
Thus revolving his camlh^ u 9
thoughts h/UHyried on unti’-'l’Y- V»ed
before the MSue-of BendittO? ’
The cathedral clock was striking
the hour of ten, and as St. John lifted
the heavy knocker within his firm
grasp he muttered:
“ Within-.-four.'.hours New Orleans
will be in^ames-'I-''Sleep well till then*
good
X. 7 .. .4
-LE-BRANDSVev. t v.
Mario and Betiditto consigned rnudh
time in their search for the. Spanish
coin bearing date 1783, affd of The.
same value as that from which
latter had so cunningly taken an.. id»-.
pression in wax. The contents of the
two caskets were nearly exhausted
when Benditto exclaimed:
“At last! I have found it! It is a
very rare coin, Mario. I think we
might have searched the city over and
not found it—save in the pockets 'o.f'
the conspirators. Now for our graver's
tools—you are an excellent engraver.
Here, between the date, and the
Spanish coat of arms you must e.fiy
grave the motto, “B. & B;” Y<iir
are meditating.”
“I am-asking myself a question, 1
and. find-;ia.answer,” replied Marino
“ Ask it -of me' then.”
“ You have, no doubt, Benditto, that
this' coin ;is.'.nsed as a passport by
these • gftp'ppsed .conspirators—sup
posed, fbr. .we .do not know that any
corispiraeyjfc'xists.” .
“ Cqupfe the rumors that have been
flying'-about the city during the last
t\Vo days withthe facts that a my'ste-
rare coin, Ma/io—upon our door also
—inscribed there this night—and the
fact that three known rascals have
used it, St. John, Carlos and Pierre
Rivart. Does it not smell of conspir
acy —and are they persons to conspire
fortiifies?”
“Admit then,. v . replied Mario, that
there is a plot, and..that the coin is a
passport among • the : plotters—their
secret sign of vill'aiTiy.- "Suppose each
conspirator has ''iL.com like this, but
bearing a date toG?f)rrespond with his
name. That is, iinagine St. John’s
coin dated 1780;- that -of Carlos
1781; that of another 1782 ; that of
Rivart 1783, and so on in regular-,
order from the first to the last of the'
plotters. %
“ What then ?” .... »
“ You, or I, or our emissary with',
this coin, which we are about to en
grave with the secret sign, Benditto,
will use it—enter the nest of the
schemers and be discovered by t.Ee
mere duplication of the date.”
“ Then we must capture a conspir
ator —learn his name and that:
with his coin,” cried Benditto.—
“What a pity that we allowed Rivart.
to leave our house.”
“Yadak has his eyes upon him,”
said Mario, “ and will soon '.report to
U3. We must make Rivart our pris
oner this night.”
As he spoke Yadak entered the hall
below and made known his presence
by a slight stroke upon the gong.
“ He has returned already,” said
Mario, “Retain the coin—l will en
grave it if we think it best. We must
see master Rivart first.”
The gold was returned to the caskets j
the caskets to the secret closet and the
old men returned to the saloon of
portraits, where they found Yadak.
“Well?” inquired Mario.
“I followed the youth, masters, and
he is now in an obscure house with
several of his own age,” said Yadak
in Arabic, his only means of commun
ication by tongue with the old men.
“Is it far from here, Yadak ?”
“Not far, masters, but the youth
was slow in going thither, for he made
many countermarches, as if he feared
a spy.”
“ Were his companions at the house
when the youth arrived there ?”
“Yes, my masters, all save two,
who came in shortly after.”
“You do not speak English, nor
any Christian tongue, Yadak; yet
you understand many,” said Mario.
Relate all that you understood if you
heard any of their conversation.”
“ After dogging the youth to the
house,” resumed Yadak,” he entered
and the door shut him from my sight,
He knocked at the door and then
whispered something into the key
hole. He was admitted soon after. —
I then noticed that the house was old
and rmooua, and no light was visible
from within. I also correctly imag
agined th'at the neighboring houses
were vacant, and so cautiously stole
into the one adjoining that ifeto*which
the youth had vanished. Ascending
to the roof of this house I clambered
to that of the other; but finding no
means of entrance to the hftuse from
the roof succeeded in swinging myself
without noise to the hgnse •bisyond,
from which I entered through S ruined
window into that I had just quitted.
I felt my way through a vacant room
and finally gained a situation from
whmh I look iW^rY 1 'the hal^
flap y .
the dc/’ r ' e -VJ2rba4Qd •> i - J ’ Jfer
visitor, ftftidid a»,(4d ti. • I *lB
whispered. q/*d then orient
again. Noflong after I lieard anoth
er admitted and the sound of a coin
or small, piece of paetal falling upon
the floor, which seerted paved with
'stone Then the words,
;Jt—herfr it is—pass in.’
' There o£'*<mie kind in the
hall, bct'fftfhr'my position I could not
sod the gjjr-stms belowi—nor did I dare
■ tri'-faov^.'v /jfftar ing no more, and fear
ful lof td’tftfchvery I retreated and am
—but how did you know
t&nithe •'companions of the youth were
of l|is a-ge!” said Benditto.
“Trom-'the sound of their voices—
which th'diigh indistinct -and subdued,
my master's, were noli those of older
men. I, who have, outwitted the
prowling Bedovins, of ihe desert, can
net.be deceived.” -;..’ ■
.\jj3idak drew his' powerful frame
-ejie&fc and folded with, digni
;4ifj|pride. .
dor^ > ;^y i . : .'';Yadak,” said
'flffiribi ’
Qo back'. j|(v.jfell hduse and Watch
fijfwre out-cbplfisg pf the youth, and
Capture hi rasas''you were wont to cap
ture the tCiilig lions of Be
discreet, and convey theiiad hither.
Doubtless he will sqps out. I
leaved.^ l ■iWiiU>yi t 'tfef'bahds."
t&r " * de
m_v -
fbiYw :' , •» '
lonf'" «lhs coni'
can J '* : - . . ...-'A'teniive 9
“liik *I e 0, r fiii"til Yadak returns.
Ilark! It strikes ten —and listen !
the knocker smites our door. Victor
St. John has 'come,” exclaimed Beh
ditto.
“And I must hasten to admit him,”
said Mario, lighting a • lamp and, de
scending to the bally
lie-strode to'.th’c doof and admitted
St. John who said; aja he entered:
•' “I' «yn the pink of punctuality,
•Benijrrt©.”..
. “
numerable virtures, Captain St. John,”
•replied Mario. ‘ *’ .
\ But --whethed the ‘.eeffipliment tfas
iyouicai or genuitye Bt.' John was una
ble to'say, for -Mario's grizzly mous
tftche nid of his mouth,
while St. have gazed into
his keen., blacfc eyes a century and
been tioirfi. the wiser.
'.’ “ So—tou know my name 1” observ
fed;.£t. Johh, as he sat down in the
chamber of. oracles.
>*You know you are here, Captain,
tarter jewels,” said Mario, bland
ly-,' .“ and - -.!, as a tradesman have ta
ken the precaution to inquire about
my intended customer.”
“You have?” sneered St. John,
eyeing the old man with supreme
contempt. “Well, what says your
feport of me ?”
“ That he is loved by the ladies, and
envipd, often feared by the gentle
men ?”
44 That of remarked St.
John, with a complacent,smile ; “but
what of my righteousness, my stand
ing as-ji man of honor J”. v
“That you pay your debts of
honor.”
“ Which is a vile round-about way
of saying that I am a gambler, you
ShylOck. Say .are you not a Floren
tine Jew?” demanded St. John
quickly.
«. I am as the honorable Captain
sees," replied Marion, cohtroling his
voice to calmness with a mighty effort.
“ I am. Benditto, the fortune-teller or
money-lender as you may desire.”
“Were you ever in Florence, Ben
ditto?”
“ My profession has carried me to
every city of the European Continent,
Captain. I have been in Florence.
Why does the Captain ask ?”
“ Simply because I once saw a pic
ture there of a Hebrew, a rich and
haughty which you re
mind me strangely.’/.
Stt John leaned his head upon his
hand, his.elbow resting upon the table
and seemed busy in recollections of
the past.
Maria awaited his desires in res
pectful silence.
“ Tell me,” said St. John at length;
“ when were you last in f”
“ Three years ago, Signor Cap
tain.”
“ Three years—ah. Did you ever
hear of a wealthy Hebrew, of Flor
ence, named Antelli ?—let me see
—Mario Antelli ?”
“ I have heard of the man,” re
plied Mario, “ but he was not a He
brew—he was reported of Hebrew
descent.. Some avowed and many de
nied that Mario Antelli, the rich Flor
entine nobleman, was a Hebrew.
But it matters little what he was—he
is dead.” * /I
“Is dead also, Captain. You knew
the family ?”
“ But slightly—very slightly. I
think there was a daughter—l think
her name was—strange that I should
forget her name—ah yes—her name
was Clara, an English name,” remark
ed St. John, carelessly. “ And what
of her foster brother, Yadak ?”
“ Clara Antelli lives,” said Mario,
as carelessly. “ Yadak is dead.”
“ What 1 She lives 1 Clara Antelli
lives!” exclaimed St. John, wildly
and springing to his feet. “ She died,
old man ! she died of poison—so I
heard.”
“ Your honor is correct,” remarked
Mario. “ I had confounded Clara
Antelli with Clara Orsini —a totally
different person. You are right, Sig
nor—'the daughter of Count Mario
died many years ago. Lftt us to busi
ness, Captain. You have the jewels
with you ?”
- “Yes, I have them in this casket,”
said St. Jojrn, vacantly, and placing
the box upon the table; “But 1
would like to hear a little more of the
Antelli family.”
“ The Captain seems much inter
ested in the fate of that unfortunjate
family,” remarked Mario, as his eyas
began to glitter strangely.
“I have good reason to be so, Ben
ditto. That family was the ruin of
my twin brother;!’ said St. John, with
eyes that glittered as keenly as
Mario’s.
“Your twin brother, Signor! Had
You ever a - brother |£__ cried
.Mario.
y‘ “. Os course—or rather why not I
— : as -well- as Esau or any one else,”
replied-St. John coldly. “He was as
like me in form, voice and feature as
eye to eye. You seem surprised that
I have had a twin brother.”
“ Not at'all—the coincidence sur
prised me,” said Mario, calmly, arid
sitting down. “ May I ask whayfas
the name of your twin brother, honor
able Captain 1”
“ His name in Florence, some fif
teen years ago, was Henri Jie Grand.
What was that coincidence of which
you spoke ?” replied St. John.
“ Why I had a twin brother also,
Captain.”
“ The deuce you did ?/' And may I
ask what his name was?” cried St.
John.
“ His name in Florence was Mario,
Count Antelli 1” replied Mario.
“ You are Count Mario 1” thundered
St. John, again springing to his feet
and laying his hand upon hi3 sabre.
But Mario did not rise, he seemed
the picture of astonishment.
“The captain raves,” said he cool
ly. “ I cannot be the Count Mario,
for he died ten,, years ago. If your
brother, who bore the name of Henri
Le Grand, told you aught of the An
telli familv he surely made mention of
Mario’s exiled brother, Benditto.”
“ So he did—so he did,” said St.
John, resuming his seat. “ But if
you are that Benditto Antelli why are
you in America following a profession
all men call a mockery, a swindle?
The title and estates of Count Mario ;
should have fallen to you.”
“So they did, Signor. But Ben
ditto in those days was not the Ben- :
ditto of 1815. Then he loved to
squander money, now he loves to make
and hoard it.”
“ So, you are Count Mario’s broth
er,” said St. John, musingly. “ Well,
tell me something of Henri Le Grand,
as he called himself—he died soon
after he left Florence*”
“Yes, ’twas said he died. Perhaps
he did. I never troubled myself
about the matter.- Count Mario dis
owned me while he lived, and his
troubles were for himself. Still, if
Henri Le Grand were alive, and now
before me, Captain, I would stab him
before he could cry, ‘ Mercy !’ ”
“Would you?” sneered St. John.
“He was nimble at that game himself,
friend Benditto. I doubt that your
dagger would not be met half way by
his. But he is dead—and there’s an
end of him. But he never harmed
you, did he ? In fact, he told me he
had never, seen either Count Mario,
"or his brother Benditto.”
“ Very true, SignoT. But he out
raged a noble family, my brother’s
family,” said Mario, with flashing
eyes. “He persuaded Clara Antelli,
Mario’s only daughter, to forsake her
NO. 16*
father’s roof and to become his
wife.”
“That was a terrible outrage/’
said St. John, with his mocking laugh.
“ Such outrages are very common.”
“He did not stop there,” said Ma
rio, fiercely. “ But even the marriage
was an outrage, for Be Grand mar
ried Clara Antelli, to win a wager.
He never loved her —not he! Ho
laid a wager one day in Florence,
with some of his wild comrades, that
he could cajole any damsel in Italy to
marry him, and then took great odds
that she would marry him secretly.'
Do you divine the rascal’s inten
tion ?”'
“ Well, not clearly,” said St. John.
“ It was to win the wager and Clara
at the same time—for Le Grand in
tended that the marriage should be
an empty ceremony —a mere sham.
He had no desire to link himself for
life to any one woman.”
“He was very wise, that scape
grace brother of mine,” remarked St.
John.
“ He was a devil in cunning,” said
Mario. “But Count Mario was as
cunning as Henri Le Grand; for
though in Russia as an embassador at
the time* he heard of the wager and
was informed that the young rakes
had selected his daughter Clara as a
fit test for the wager. He hastened
to Florence to find his child really in
love with Le Grand, but Le Grand
was then absent from Florence upon a
traveling tour. So the father threat
ened his child with a convent—he
swore to send her to a nunnery, and
to slay her lover if ever he heard of
any more love making.”
“ Os course that terrified Henri Le
Grand—when he heard of the awful
threat?” said St. John, with-his cold
mocking smile.
“No, he was a dare-devil,” contin
ued Mario. “ The Count was forced
to return to Russia ; yet he loved his
daughter too well to blast her happi
ness; Therefore, before he left he
took good care that if there was to be
a marriage, it should be valid and
true even if secret.” . I:
“ Shrewd old father ’. Sensible too,”
i laughed- St. John. “He knew that
| whW h girl is determm«l ilTjjlMjfci,''
' man she loves, she will do it if the
whole world cries, nay! Sharp old
fellow.”
“So it proved,” resumed Mario}
“for Le Grand won Clara to elope
with him to a sham marriage—as he
imagined. But the marriage was as
good as gold and firmer than steel.
Well, the wager was won by
Grand, and for more than a year he
was true to his wife—not knowing she.,
was entitled to that sacred name^”
“ Then he did love her a little ?”
interrupted St. John, carelessly.
“Perhaps he'had some fragment of
a human heart in his bosom,” said ■:
Mario. “ The Count refused to ac- *
knowledge his disobedient daughter
after the marriage—to punish her;
though he intended to forgive her in
the end;”
“ But he didn’t slay Le Grand after
all the blustering,” sneered St. John.
“He would have found my brother
quite hard to kill.” _*
“Very likely, Captain—if he was
such a warrior as you are—though
you may be killed one of these days,”
said Maria, bowing blandly.
“ Go on,” sneered St. John, twirl
ing his moustache.
“ But after a child had been born
to the youthful pair,” continued
Mario, “Le Grand grew weary of
Clara’s love, and told her of his base
ness—he gloried in his supposed suc
cess. She quickly proved to him that
she was indeed his lawful wife, and
then what do you suppose he did ?”
“Why, made the best of it, of
course,” said St. John, though his
face grew pale.
“He poisoned her and fled from
Florence!” exclaimed Mario.
“ Then he. was more than a match
for the cunning Florentines,” laughed
St. John; but there was no soul in his
laugh, nor was it mocking—it was
like a broken, disjointed hiss. “ But
the child of Le Grand —what became
of that ?”
“ What is it to youj sir ?” demand
ed Mario, tartly.
“ Fellow !” cried St. John, “ you
forget to whom you are privileged to
speak. Address me in that tone again
and not only will I take my jewels
elsewhere, but kick you through the
wall for your impertinence—were you
Mario Antelli himself.”
“ I humbly crave my gracious cap
tain’s pardon,” said Mario, bowing
most obsequiously. “ I did forget my
self. Pardon.”
St. John eyed the old man keenly,
and finally remarked.
“ I have half a mind to believe you
are mocking me with feigned humility,
you Barrabas. But whattof the child
—a boy, I think, my brother said.”
“ It was a girl,” resumed Mario.
“ She was named Clara after her
mother.”