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One day last week, The Chink and Celeste sat in a small restaurant, and there she was recognized by the parents of Lazzaro Anticoli. Nearsighted old Mother Anticoli was not sure at first whether it was really Celeste. "Excuse me," she asked, "but are you the Black Panther?" A little girl who had seen her picture in the papers cried: "Yes, it is, it is the Black Panther!" Word spread through the close-packed backyards and alleys. A crowd of women gathered in front of the restaurant, screaming for the revenge Lazzaro Anticoli had demanded. The Chink ran. When Celeste tried to slip away, Mother Anticoli clawed at her and knocked her down. The other women swarmed over her, beat her and tore off her fine clothes. Half naked, she stumbled down the narrow, cobbled streets, into the arms of a carabiniere. He hustled her off to the police station.
Next day, the Black Panther was released and she disappeared again. It was not known where she had gone. No one in the Piazza Giudea thought that she might have joined her mother and her two sisters, who now go from village to village, still pushing their small cart of secondhand clothes.