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Updated: June 11, 2025
As I turned aside to do so, her gloomy eyes were poised for an instant upon Falcone, who stood grim and silent. Then they were lowered again ere she began to address him. "You have done very ill, Falcone," said she. "You have abused my trust in you, and you have sought to pervert my son and to lead him into ways of evil." He started under that reproof like a fiery stallion under the spur.
The intercourse between Lorenzo and Pulci was of the most familiar kind. Pulci was sixteen years older, but of a nature which makes no such differences felt between associates. He had known Lorenzo from the latter's youth, probably from his birth is spoken of in a tone of domestic intimacy by his wife and is enumerated by him among his companions in a very special and characteristic manner in his poem on Hawking (La Caccia col Falcone), when, calling his fellow-sportsmen about him, and missing Luigi, one of them says that he has strolled into a neighbouring wood, to put something which has struck his fancy into a sonnet: "'Luigi Pulci ov' è, che non si sente? 'Egli se n' andò dianzi in quel boschetto, Che qualche fantasia ha per la mente; Vorr
Here again, it seemed, was to be repeated though with methods a thousand times more barbarous and harsh the wrong that was done years ago in the case of poor Gino Falcone. And the reason for it in this instance was not even dimly apparent to me. Falcone I had loved; indeed, in my eighteen years of life he was the only human being who had knocked for admission upon the portals of my heart.
He approached Fortunato and said: "You are the son of Mateo Falcone?" "Yes." "I am Gianetto Saupiero. "And what will my father say if I hide you without his permission?" "He will say that you have done well." "How do you know?" "Hide me quickly; they are coming." "Wait till my father gets back." "How can I wait? Malediction! They will be here in five minutes. Come, hide me, or I will kill you."
But on the night in question there was just silence, broken chiefly by the toothless slobber of the castellan over the soft meats that were especially prepared for him. And there was something of grimness in that silence; for none and Fra Gervasio less than any approved the unchristian thing that out of excess of Christianity my mother had done in driving old Falcone forth.
A lighted candle was placed at eighty paces, behind a paper transparency about the size of a plate. He would take aim, then the candle would be extinguished, and, at the end of a moment, in the most complete darkness, he would fire and hit the paper three times out of four. With such a transcendent accomplishment, Mateo Falcone had acquired a great reputation.
I do not believe that she gave Falcone a single thought at first. It was at me only that she looked, and with such a sorrow in her glance to see me so vigorous and lusty, as surely could not have been fetched there by the sight of my corpse itself.
In the meanwhile Falcone walked some two hundred paces along the path and only stopped when he reached a little ravine which he descended. He tried the earth with the butt-end of his carbine, and found it soft and easy to dig. The place seemed to be convenient for his design. "Fortunato, go close to that big rock there." The child did as he was commanded, then he kneeled. "Say your prayers."
One glance I gave to make quite sure, and then I leapt down the broad steps four at a time, and a moment later, to the amazement of all present, I had caught the dusty rider in my arms, and I was kissing the wrinkled, scarred, and leathery old cheeks. "Falcone!" I cried. "Falcone, do you not know me?" He was startled by the violence of my passionate onslaught.
He delighted in his imaginary grievances, and inflicted his anger on all who came near him, only varying the manifestation of it to suit the position in which he chanced to find himself. With his wife he was overbearing; with his brother he was insolent; with his apprentice he was sullen; and with his associates at the old Falcone he played the demagogue.
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