So Don Croce had focused more intently on Pisciotta. Pisciotta was clever, but as young men are clever – that is, he did not give full weight to the hidden terror and evil in the hearts of the best of men. And Pisciotta too had a taste for the fruits and temptations of the world. Where Guiliano disdained money, Pisciotta loved the rewards money brought. Guiliano did not have a penny for his personal fortune though he had earned over a billion lire with his crimes. He distributed his share of the spoils to the poor and to help support his family.

But Don Croce had observed that Pisciotta wore the finest tailored suits in Palermo and visited the most expensive prostitutes. Also that Pisciotta's family lived much better than Guiliano's. And Don Croce learned that Pisciotta had money stored in Palermo's banks under false names, and had taken other precautions that only a man interested in staying alive would make. Like false identity papers in three different names, a safe house prepared in Trapani. And Don Croce knew that all this was a secret held from Guiliano. So he awaited Pisciotta's visit, a visit requested by Pisciotta, who had known the Don's house was always open to him, with interest and pleasure. And also with prudence and foresight. He was surrounded by armed guards, and he had alerted Colonel Luca and Inspector Velardi to be ready for a conference if all went well. If it did not, if he had misjudged Pisciotta or if this was a triple-dyed treachery cooked up by Guiliano to have the Don killed, then it would be the grave for Aspanu Pisciotta.

Pisciotta allowed himself to be disarmed before he was led into the presence of Don Croce. He had no fear, for he had just a few days before done the Don an enormous service; he had warned him of Guiliano's plan to attack the hotel.

The two men were alone. Don Croce's servants had prepared a table of food and wine, and Don Croce, an old-fashioned rustic host, filled Pisciotta's plate and glass.

"The good times are over," Don Croce said. "Now we must be very serious, you and I. The time has come to make the decision that will decide our lives. I hope you are ready to listen to what I have to say."

"I don't know what your trouble is," Pisciotta said to the Don. "But I know that I have to be very clever to save my skin."

"You don't wish to emigrate?" the Don asked. "You could go to America with Guiliano. The wine isn't as good and the olive oil is water and they have the electric chair, after all they are not as civilized as our government here. You couldn't do anything rash. But it's not a bad life there."

Pisciotta laughed. "What would I do in America? I'll take my chances here. Once Guiliano is gone, they won't look so hard for me, and the mountains are deep."

The Don said solicitously, "You still have troubles with your lungs'? You still get your medicine?"

"Yes." Pisciotta said. "That isn't a problem. The chances are that my lungs will never get the chance to kill me." He grinned at Don Croce.

"Let's talk Sicilian together," the Don said gravely. "When we are children, when we are young, it is natural to love our friends, to be generous to them, to forgive their faults. Each day is fresh, we look forward to the future with pleasure and without fear. The world itself is not so dangerous; it is a happy time. But as we grow old and have to earn our bread, friendship does not endure so easily. We must always be on our guard. Our elders no longer look after us, we are no longer content with those simple pleasures of children. Pride grows in us – we wish to become great or powerful or rich, or simply to guard ourself against misfortune. I know how much you love Turi Guiliano, but now you must ask yourself, what is the price of this love? And after all these years does it still exist or is it just the memory that exists?" He waited for Pisciotta to make an answer, but Pisciotta looked at him with a face stonier than the rocks on the Cammarata Mountains and as white. For Pisciotta's face had gone very pale.

Don Croce went on. "I cannot permit Guiliano to live or escape. If you remain faithful to him then you too are my enemy. Know this. With Guiliano gone, you cannot remain alive in Sicily without my protection."

Pisciotta said, "Turi's Testament is safe with his friends in America. If you kill him that Testament will become public and the government will fall. A new government may force you to retire to your farm here in Villaba or even worse."

The Don chuckled. Then roared with laughter. He said with contempt, "Have you read this famous Testament?"

"Yes," Pisciotta said, bewildered by the Don's reaction.

"I have not," the Don said. "But I have decided to act as if it does not exist."

Pisciotta said, "You ask me to betray Guiliano. What makes you think that is possible?"

Don Croce smiled. "You warned me about his attack on my hotel. That was an act of friendship?"

"I did that for Guiliano, not for you," Pisciotta said. "Turi is no longer rational. He plans to kill you. Once you are dead, then I know there is no longer hope for any of us. The Friends of the Friends will never rest until we are dead, Testament or no Testament. He could have been out of the country days ago but he lingers, hoping to get his revenge and your life. I came to this meeting to make an arrangement with you. Guiliano will leave this country within the next few days, he will end his vendetta with you. Let him go."

Don Croce leaned back from his plate of food on the table. He sipped his glass of wine. "You're being childish," he said. "We have come to the end of the history. Guiliano is too dangerous to remain alive. But I cannot kill him. I must live in Sicily – I cannot kill its greatest hero and do the things I must do. Too many people love Guiliano, too many of his followers will seek revenge for his death. It must be the carabinieri to do the job. That is how it must be arranged. And you are the only one who can lead Guiliano into such a trap." He paused for a moment and then said deliberately, "The end of your world has come. You can stay with it through its destruction or you can step out of that world and live in another."

Pisciotta said, "I could be under the protection of Christ, but I wouldn't live long if it was known that I betrayed Guiliano."

"You have only to tell me where you are meeting him again," Don Croce said. "No one else will know. I will arrange things with Colonel Luca and Inspector Velardi. They will take care of the rest." He paused a moment. "Guiliano has changed. He is no longer your childhood companion, no longer your best friend. He is a man who is looking after himself. As now you must do."

And so on the evening of July 5, as Pisciotta made his way to Castelvetrano, he had committed himself to Don Croce. He had told him where he would meet Guiliano, and he knew that the Don would tell Colonel Luca and Inspector Velardi. He had not told them that it would be at Zu Peppino's house, but only that it would be in the town of Castelvetrano itself. And he had warned them to be careful, that Guiliano had a sixth sense about traps.

But when Pisciotta arrived at Zu Peppino's house the old carter greeted him with an uncharacteristic coldness. Pisciotta wondered if the old man suspected him. He must have noticed the unusual activity of the carabinieri in the town and with that unerring Sicilian paranoia, put two and two together.

For a moment Pisciotta felt a thrilling pain of anguish. And then another agonizing thought. What if Guiliano's mother learned that it had been her beloved Aspanu who betrayed her son? What if one day she stood before him and spit in his face and called him traitor and murderer? They had wept in each other's arms and he had sworn to protect her son and he had given her a Judas' kiss. For a moment he thought of killing the old man and thought too of killing himself.