4x-xx-xx ep12 Mateo Falcone

My name is Matteo Falcone. My wife, my son and myself live on a small farm in a hill country of Corsica. At least we did live there until we were betrayed by our own blood relatives.

You see the Falcone's are a large plant in this part of the country. Over there to the West is my brother, Jonetro's farm, and adjoining his farm is the Rostano's place. Lorna Rostano and her husband are the only outsiders in this part of the country, and the trouble which has haunted my days and nights started at her home.

The countryside was still with the deathly stillness that creeps over the valleys in the early part of the morning. Lorna opened her kitchen door and called to her husband. Where is that, Matt? Yes, Rostano was dead.

Lorna found him sprawled across the matting on the floor. The peculiarly carved, corsic and knife thrust into his heart, and the blood that poured from that wound caused more blood to spill in the hills of Corsic and.

Lorna's cries soon aroused the curiosity of the neighbours, and it was teodorigamba, my fifth cousin, my wife, Sides, who was shell up in this part of the country, who was called in to investigate Rostano's untimely end.

We at home knew nothing of the tragedy that had occurred that morning. My wife, Mary, my son, Fortinato and myself were seated at the breakfast table quietly eating. Fortinato was chattering as usual. Is the world round, Father?

Of course the world is round, Fortinato. Trust the bread, Matteo. Here you are, Maria. If the world is round, why don't we slide off of it? Matteo do not encourage him with that nonsense. That is not nonsense, Maria.