"Fortune was very good to us at first. Gennaro was able to do a
service to an Italian gentleman--he saved him from some ruffians
in the place called the Bowery, and so made a powerful friend.
His name was Tito Castalotte, and he was the senior partner of
the great firm of Castalotte and Zamba, who are the chief fruit
importers of New York. Signor Zamba is an invalid, and our new
friend Castalotte has all power within the firm, which employs
more than three hundred men. He took my husband into his
employment, made him head of a department, and showed his good-
will towards him in every way. Signor Castalotte was a bachelor,
and I believe that he felt as if Gennaro was his son, and both my
husband and I loved him as if he were our father. We had taken
and furnished a little house in Brooklyn, and our whole future
seemed assured when that black cloud appeared which was soon to
overspread our sky.

"One night, when Gennaro returned from his work, he brought a
fellow-countryman back with him. His name was Gorgiano, and he
had come also from Posilippo. He was a huge man, as you can
testify, for you have looked upon his corpse. Not only was his
body that of a giant but everything about him was grotesque,
gigantic, and terrifying. His voice was like thunder in our
little house. There was scarce room for the whirl of his great
arms as he talked. His thoughts, his emotions, his passions, all
were exaggerated and monstrous. He talked, or rather roared,
with such energy that others could but sit and listen, cowed with
the mighty stream of words. His eyes blazed at you and held you
at his mercy. He was a terrible and wonderful man. I thank God
that he is dead!