It was well Bianca had fled with her lover; otherwise her mother would surely have killed her.
But afterward, when the girl returned to die in the old home, all was forgiven, and only the hatred of her foreign husband, whose cruelty had driven her back to Sicily, remained to rankle in the old Duchessa's wicked heart.
No one knew her evil nature better than her son.

He entertained a suspicion that he had not conquered her by his recent opposition to her will.

Indeed, he would never have dared to brave her anger except for Tato's sake.

Tato was his idol, and in her defense the cowardly brigand had for the moment become bold.
Tato laughed and chatted with Uncle John all through the meal, even trying at times to cheer the doleful Ferralti, who was nearly as glum and unsociable as her father.

The servants and brigands at the lower end of the table looked upon the little one admiringly.