at instant that rebellion stirred in me. Her coming had
turned me cold, for all that my body was overheated from the exercise
and I was sweating furiously. Now, at the sound of her voice, something
of the injustice that oppressed me, something of the unreasoning bigotry
that chained and fettered me, stood clear before my mental vision
for the first time. It warmed me again with the warmth of sullen
indignation. I returned her no answer beyond a curtly respectful
invitation that she should speak her mind, couched--as had been her
reproof--in a single word of address.

"Madonna?" I challenged, and emulating something of old Falcone's
attitude, I drew myself erect, flung back my head, and brought my eyes
to the level of her own by an effort of will such as I had never yet
exerted.

It was, I think, the bravest thing I ever did. I felt, in doing it, as
one feels who has nerved himself to enter fire. And when the thing was
done, the ease of it surprised me. There followed no catastrophe such as
I expected. Before my glance, grown suddenly so very bold, her own eyes
drooped and fell away as was her habit. She spoke thereafter without
looking at me, in that cold, emotionless voice that was peculiar to her
always, the voice of one in whom the founts of all that is sweet and
tolerant and tender in life are for ever frozen.

"What are you doing with weapons, Agostino?" she asked me.

"As you see, madam mother, I am at practice," I answered, and out of
the corner of my eye I caught the grim approving twitch of old Falcone's
lips.

"At practice?" she echoed, dully as one who does not understand. Then
very slowly she shook her sorrowful head. "Men practise what they must
one day perform, Agostino. To your books, then, and leave swords for
bloody men, nor ever let me see you again with weapons in your hands if
you respect me."

"Had you not come hither, madam mother, you had been spared the sight
to-day," I answered with some lingering spark of my rebellious fire
still smouldering.

"It was God's will that I should come to set a term to such vanities
before they take too strong a hold upon you," answered she. "Lay down
those weapons."

Had she been angry, I think I could have withstood her. Anger in her at
such a time must have been as steel upon the flint of my own nature. But
against that incarnation of sorrow and sadness, my purpose, my strength
of character were turned to water. By similar means had she ever
prevailed