Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1912)

108 TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE tractedly, as she rocked little Tina in her thin arms, "E possibile! Non capisco! Non capisco!" Nor could Mario in his cell understand. His misfortunes had crowded upon him so thick and fast that he felt as tho he had passed thru a raging delirium. And the worst of it was that he lived and relived that delirium in his enforced idleness. The leaden-footed hours dragged themselves haltingly into eternity as the wretched prisoner paced his cell, nursing his wrongs and muttering imprecations upon the tardy passage of time. One day, in the midst of that maddening walk from end to end of his cell, he became aware of some one watching him thru the grating in his do*6r. The visitor was a distinguishedlooking man, with a strong, yet kindly, face. The warden joined him at the door, and Mario knew that they were discussing him. But he was too brain-weary and soul-sick to care to listen. The visitor was the governor of the State, and Mario Fagri's halfdemented condition had caused him to make inquiries of the warden. "Why, Your Excellency, there's nothing the matter with that man but having nothing to do. He's a man who has worked all his life, and this idleness is driving him crazy. I've seen them go mad and have to be put in strait-jackets. We ought to have shops here and set the men to work. They'd all be better in every way for it." "I'll see that you get the shops, warden," promised the governor. "Your idea is good, and you should have had them long ago. What do you favor? How would shirt-making do ? I know that some of the other State penitentiaries do that sort of work, so I judge it would be all right." ' ' Yes, indeed, sir. Anything to get the men busy and give them something to think of besides themselves. ' ' | Within the next few days there were unwonted noises and activity in one of the wings of the prison. Sev eral of the prisoners were taken from their cells to help install rows upon rows of sewing machines, to unpack cases of materials, and prepare the work for the hundreds of convicts who were to be taught shirt-making. The pall of hopelessness was lifted from the minds of the idle prisoners, as it was whispered about that they were to be taught a trade — that they were to have occupation for hands and brains and a chance to acquire the means of a livelihood against that dark day when they would face the world again with the prison taint upon them. None welcomed the opening of the shop more fervently than Mario Fagri. When he was placed at a machine, and a trusty explained its operation, he took up the new work with enthusiasm. As the days went by and he bent over the machine, watching the needle flying thru the material, and feeling the wholesome companionship of fellow-workers, all intent upon their tasks, his health and spirits underwent a rejuvenation that brought with it a sanguine anticipation of his release and of a happy reunion with his dear Maddalena and the little Tina. Could he have known how it fared with them, his newly recovered zest would have shriveled as from a deadly blight ! Maddalena was not one to sink resignedly into the lap of charity. She chafed at her detention in the institution to which she had been taken, and, as soon as she had regained sufficient strength, she appealed for work at a shirt factory. She had gone back to her old tenement room, and there, haunted by the memories of those misfortunes that had ended in the tragedy of Mario's imprisonment, she sat at her rented machine and steadily added to the heap of finished shirts that she was to deliver to the manufacturer. The pay for her toil was contemptibly small, but it sufficed to feed and clothe and house her and Tina. And for that she was grateful, remembering those black starvation days.: As the fall