The deputy-mayor, the gendarmes, and a few women seized
the opportunity, and threw themselves between the two factions; for the
della Rebbia herdsmen were already loading their guns, and for a moment
a general fight in the middle of the square had appeared imminent.
But the two parties were both leaderless, and Corsicans, whose rage
is always subject to discipline, seldom come to blows unless the chief
authors of their internecine quarrels are present. Besides, Colomba, who
had learned prudence from victory, restrained her little garrison.
"Let the poor folks weep in peace," she said. "Let the old man carry his
own flesh home. What is the good of killing an old fox who has no teeth
left to bite with, . . . Giudice Barricini! Remember the 2d of August!
Remember the blood-stained pocket-book in which you wrote with your
forger's hand! My father had written down your debt! Your sons have paid
it. You may go free, old Barricini!"
With folded arms and a scornful smile upon her lips, Colomba watched the
bearers carry the corpses of her enemies into their home, and the crowd
without it melt gradually away. Then she closed her own door, and, going
back into the dining-room, she said to the colonel:
"I beg, sir, you will forgive my fellow-countrymen! I never could have
believed that any Corsican would have fired on a house that sheltered
strangers, and I am ashamed of my country.
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