"That boy will go far!" the old men and women used to say. "Only look
at his blue eyes. Blessed the mother that bore him, whoever she
was"--for nobody even pretended to know.
They were right; as old folks are apt to be. The victor in the
disreputable affray happened to be a gentleman of middle age, a
distinguished ornament of the Black Hand. No happier fate could have
been devised for Giustino than to live under the patronage of such an
individual. He took charge of the little fellow, and was not slow in
discovering that his protege possessed not only a muscular framework
and ready wit, but the malice, the concentrated ruthlessness and
rapacity of fifty devils rolled into one. Something could be made out
of that boy, he concluded; the Society, always ready to adopt promising
neophytes on the recommendation of a qualified practitioner like
himself, would doubtless enrol him in due course. Meanwhile he
instructed him, by precept and example, how to be religious in the
manner most pleasing to the Madonna.
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