L'Arrabiata and Other Tales by Paul Heyse

Page 1 of 257

Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the Web Archive

Transcriber's Notes: 1. Page scan source: http://www.archive.org/details/larrabiataandot00heysgoog

2. Contents: 1. L'Arrabiata, 2. Count Ernest's Home, 3. Blind, 4. Walter's Little Mother; 5. The Dead Lake and Other Tales: (a) A Fortnight at the Dead Lake, (b) Doomed, (c) Beatrice, (d) Beginning and End.

L'ARRABIATA

AND

OTHER TALES

PAUL HEYSE.

FROM THE GERMAN BY MARY WILSON.

_Authorized Edition_.

LEIPZIG 1867 BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ. LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, SON, AND MARSTON. MILTON HOUSE, LUDGATE HILL. PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PERES. NEW YORK: LEYPOLDT & HOLT, 451, BROOME STREET.

L'ARRABIATA.

The day had scarcely dawned.--Over Vesuvius hung one broad grey stripe of mist; stretching across as far as Naples, and darkening all the small towns along the coast. The sea lay calm. But about the marina of the narrow creek, that lies beneath the Sorrento cliffs, fishermen and their wives were at work already, with giant cables drawing their boats to land, and the nets that had been cast the night before. Others were rigging their craft; trimming the sails, and fetching out oars and masts from the great grated vaults that have been built deep into the rocks for shelter to the tackle over night. Nowhere an idle hand; even the very aged, who had long given up going to sea, fell into the long chain of those who were hauling in the nets. Here and there, on some flat housetop, an old woman stood and span; or busied herself about her grandchildren, whom their mother had left to help her husband.

"Do you see, Rachela? yonder is our Padre Curato;" said one, to a little thing of ten, who brandished a small spindle by her side; "Antonio is to row him over to Capri. Madre Santissima! but the reverend signor's eyes are dull with sleep!" and she waved her hand to a benevolent looking little priest, who was settling himself in the boat, and spreading out upon the bench his carefully tucked-up skirts.

The men upon the quay had dropped their work, to see their pastor off, who bowed and nodded kindly, right and left.

"What for must he go to Capri, granny?" asked the child. "Have the people there no priest of their own, that they must borrow ours?"

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