Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 21, 2025
It was raining, and the wind beat the rain against the window-panes: the night was very dark. Ferruccio had returned weary, muddy, with his jacket torn, and the livid mark of a stone on his forehead. He had engaged in a stone fight with his comrades; they had come to blows, as usual; and in addition he had gambled, and lost all his soldi, and left his cap in a ditch.
That evening the house of Ferruccio was more silent than was its wont. The father, who kept a little haberdasher's shop, had gone to Forli to make some purchases, and his wife had accompanied him, with Luigina, a baby, whom she was taking to a doctor, that he might operate on a diseased eye; and they were not to return until the following morning. It was almost midnight.
But Ferruccio, with an exceedingly rapid movement, and uttering a cry of desperation, had rushed to his grandmother, and covered her body with his own. The assassin fled, stumbling against the table and overturning the light, which was extinguished.
"But it seems to me that it is not the rain!" she exclaimed, turning pale. "Go and see!" But she instantly added, "No; remain here!" and seized Ferruccio by the hand. Both remained as they were, and held their breath. All they heard was the sound of the water. Then both were seized with a shivering fit. It seemed to both that they heard footsteps in the next room.
Ferruccio was on the point of throwing himself on his grandmother, overcome with emotion, when he fancied that he heard a slight noise, a creaking in the small adjoining room, the one which opened on the garden. But he could not make out whether it was the window-shutters rattling in the wind, or something else. He bent his head and listened. The rain beat down noisily. The sound was repeated.
They carried off the money. But daddy had taken nearly all of it with him." His grandmother drew a deep breath. "Grandmother," said Ferruccio, still kneeling, and pressing her close to him, "dear grandmother, you love me, don't you?" "O Ferruccio! my poor little son!" she replied, placing her hands on his head; "what a fright you must have had! O Lord God of mercy! Light the lamp.
Ferruccio stood listening three paces away, leaning against a cupboard, with his chin on his breast and his brows knit, being still hot with wrath from the brawl. A lock of fine chestnut hair fell across his forehead, and his blue eyes were motionless. "From gambling to theft!" repeated his grandmother, continuing to weep. "Think of it, Ferruccio!
Word Of The Day
Others Looking