He had never seen the young man thus violent and vehement; he had always found him tranquil to excess, difficult to rouse, slow to anger, indeed almost incapable of it; partaking of the nature of the calm and docile cattle with whom so much of his time was passed.  But under the spur of an intolerable menace the warrior’s blood which slumbered in Adone leapt to action; all at once the fierce temper of the lords of Ruscino displayed its fire and its metal; it was not the peasant of the Terra Vergine who was before him now, but the heir of the seigneury of the Rocca.

“It is not only what I told him of his race,” he thought.  “If he had known nothing, none the less would the blood in his veins have stirred and the past have moved him.”

Aloud he said: 

“My son, I feel for you from the depths of my soul.  I feel with you also.  For if these foreigners take the river-water from us what will become of my poor, desolate people, only too wretched already as they are?  You would not be alone in your desperation, Adone.  But do not let us take alarm too quickly.  This measure is in gestation; but it may never come to birth.  Many such projects are discussed which from one cause or another are not carried out; this one must pass through many preliminary phases before it becomes fact.  There must be surely many vested rights which cannot with impunity be invaded.  Take courage.  Have patience.”

He paused, for he saw that for the first time since they had known each other, Adone was not listening to him.

Adone was staring up at the moon which hung, golden and full, in the dark blue sky, seeming framed in the leaves and coils of the vine.

“The river is mine,” he muttered.  “The river and I are as brothers.  They shall kill me before they touch the water.”

“He will go mad or commit some great crime,” thought his friend, looking at him.  “We must move every lever and strain every nerve, to frustrate this scheme, to prevent this spoliation.  But if the thieves see money in it who shall stay their hands?”

He rose and laid his hands on Adone’s shoulders.

“To-night you are in no fitting state for calm consideration of this possible calamity.  Go home, my son.  Go to your room.  Say nothing to your mother.  Pray and sleep.  In the forenoon come to me and we will speak of the measures which it may be possible to take to have this matter examined and opposed.  We are very poor; but still we are not altogether helpless.  Only, there must be no violence.  You wrong yourself and you weaken a good cause by such wild threats.  Good-night, my son.  Go home.”

The long habit of obedience to his superior, and the instinctive docility of his temper compelled Adone to submit; he drew a long, deep breath and the blood faded from his face.

Without a word he turned from the table and wept out of the presbytery into the night and the white glory of the moonshine.