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Updated: May 10, 2025
I told you she'd sulk if she couldn't be the leading lady." Grace glanced over toward Eleanor, who stood biting her lip, her hands clenched and her face set in angry lines. "She looks like the 'Vendetta' or the 'Camorra' or some other Italian vengeance agency, doesn't she?" said Nora with a giggle.
I spoke again: "I wish to encounter a representative of the Camorra, in other words the Black Hand, in other words the cruel and sinister Sicilian terrorists named the Mafia. Do you know where these can be found?" One of them said, "Nay. What's that jive?" I puzzled over what he had said for a moment, but in the end decreed that his message was sensefree.
"When I was in Italy last year," he replied at length, "I did a good deal of work in tracing up some Camorra suspects. I had a tip about some of them to look up their records I needn't say where it came from, but it was a good one.
From an adjoining room issued the click of balls striking together and bursts of laughter, amid which might be heard the sharp, dry voice of Simoun, who was playing billiards with Ben-Zayb. Suddenly Padre Camorra arose. "The devil with this game, puñales!" he exclaimed, throwing his cards at Padre Irene's head. "Puñales, that trick, if not all the others, was assured and we lost by default!
Padre Camorra was ignorant of the fact that across the table they were playing for the intellectual development of the Filipinos, the instruction in Castilian, but had he known it he would doubtless have joyfully entered into that game. The open balcony admitted the fresh, pure breeze and revealed the lake, whose waters murmured sweetly around the base of the edifice, as if rendering homage.
The Greek Clephts, those brave champions of the independence of their home, were, in times of peace, brigands. In Italy the Papacy and the Bourbons in 1860 kept the brigands in their pay against the national party and its troops; and Garibaldi had on his side in Sicily the Maffia, just as in Naples the Liberals were supported by the Camorra.
"Just calculate what we should economize on soldiers clothed only in their skins!" concluded he who was defending the army. In another group the conversation was more heated. Ben-Zayb was talking and declaiming, while Padre Camorra, as usual, was constantly interrupting him.
Come and have a beer with me and we'll drink to the prosperity of your province." The youths thanked him, but declined the offer. "You do wrong," Simoun said to them, visibly taken aback. "Beer is a good thing, and I heard Padre Camorra say this morning that the lack of energy noticeable in this country is due to the great amount of water the inhabitants drink."
Padre Camorra drew back in loathing, Padre Salvi looked at it closely as if he enjoyed sepulchral things, Padre Irene smiled a knowing smile, Don Custodio affected gravity and disdain, while Ben-Zayb hunted for his mirrors there they must be, for it was a question of mirrors. "It smells like a corpse," observed one lady, fanning herself furiously. "Ugh!"
"I want to tell you," declared Padre Camorra, "that this little schoolmaster is a discontented filibuster. Just imagine the heretic teaches that corpses rot just the same, whether buried with great pomp or without any! Some day I'm going to punch him!" Here he doubled up his fists.
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