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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gadfly, by E. L. Voynich
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Gadfly
+
+Author: E. L. Voynich
+
+Posting Date: February 1, 2009 [EBook #3431]
+Release Date: September, 2002
+Last Updated: March 16, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GADFLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judy Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GADFLY
+
+By E. L. Voynich
+
+
+“What have we to do with Thee, Thou Jesus of Nazareth?”
+
+
+
+AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
+
+
+     MY most cordial thanks are due to the many
+     persons who helped me to collect, in Italy, the
+     materials for this story. I am especially indebted
+     to the officials of the Marucelliana Library of
+     Florence, and of the State Archives and Civic
+     Museum of Bologna, for their courtesy and
+     kindness.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GADFLY
+
+
+
+
+PART I.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Arthur sat in the library of the theological seminary at Pisa, looking
+through a pile of manuscript sermons. It was a hot evening in June, and
+the windows stood wide open, with the shutters half closed for coolness.
+The Father Director, Canon Montanelli, paused a moment in his writing to
+glance lovingly at the black head bent over the papers.
+
+“Can't you find it, carino? Never mind; I must rewrite the passage.
+Possibly it has got torn up, and I have kept you all this time for
+nothing.”
+
+Montanelli's voice was rather low, but full and resonant, with a silvery
+purity of tone that gave to his speech a peculiar charm. It was the
+voice of a born orator, rich in possible modulations. When he spoke to
+Arthur its note was always that of a caress.
+
+“No, Padre, I must find it; I'm sure you put it here. You will never
+make it the same by rewriting.”
+
+Montanelli went on with his work. A sleepy cockchafer hummed drowsily
+outside the window, and the long, melancholy call of a fruitseller
+echoed down the street: “Fragola! fragola!”
+
+“'On the Healing of the Leper'; here it is.” Arthur came across the room
+with the velvet tread that always exasperated the good folk at home.
+He was a slender little creature, more like an Italian in a
+sixteenth-century portrait than a middle-class English lad of the
+thirties. From the long eyebrows and sensitive mouth to the small hands
+and feet, everything about him was too much chiseled, overdelicate.
+Sitting still, he might have been taken for a very pretty girl
+masquerading in male attire; but when he moved, his lithe agility
+suggested a tame panther without the claws.
+
+“Is that really it? What should I do without you, Arthur? I should
+always be losing my things. No, I am not going to write any more now.
+Come out into the garden, and I will help you with your work. What is
+the bit you couldn't understand?”
+
+They went out into the still, shadowy cloister garden. The seminary
+occupied the buildings of an old Dominican monastery, and two hundred
+years ago the square courtyard had been stiff and trim, and the rosemary
+and lavender had grown in close-cut bushes between the straight box
+edgings. Now the white-robed monks who had tended them were laid away
+and forgotten; but the scented herbs flowered still in the gracious
+mid-summer evening, though no man gathered their blossoms for simples
+any more. Tufts of wild parsley and columbine filled the cracks between
+the flagged footways, and the well in the middle of the courtyard was
+given up to ferns and matted stone-crop. The roses had run wild, and
+their straggling suckers trailed across the paths; in the box borders
+flared great red poppies; tall foxgloves drooped above the tangled
+grasses; and the old vine, untrained and barren of fruit, swayed from
+the branches of the neglected medlar-tree, shaking a leafy head with
+slow and sad persistence.
+
+In one corner stood a huge summer-flowering magnolia, a tower of dark
+foliage, splashed here and there with milk-white blossoms. A rough
+wooden bench had been placed against the trunk; and on this Montanelli
+sat down. Arthur was studying philosophy at the university; and,
+coming to a difficulty with a book, had applied to “the Padre” for an
+explanation of the point. Montanelli was a universal encyclopaedia to
+him, though he had never been a pupil of the seminary.
+
+“I had better go now,” he said when the passage had been cleared up;
+“unless you want me for anything.”
+
+“I don't want to work any more, but I should like you to stay a bit if
+you have time.”
+
+“Oh, yes!” He leaned back against the tree-trunk and looked up through
+the dusky branches at the first faint stars glimmering in a quiet
+sky. The dreamy, mystical eyes, deep blue under black lashes, were an
+inheritance from his Cornish mother, and Montanelli turned his head
+away, that he might not see them.
+
+“You are looking tired, carino,” he said.
+
+“I can't help it.” There was a weary sound in Arthur's voice, and the
+Padre noticed it at once.
+
+“You should not have gone up to college so soon; you were tired out with
+sick-nursing and being up at night. I ought to have insisted on your
+taking a thorough rest before you left Leghorn.”
+
+“Oh, Padre, what's the use of that? I couldn't stop in that miserable
+house after mother died. Julia would have driven me mad!”
+
+Julia was his eldest step-brother's wife, and a thorn in his side.
+
+“I should not have wished you to stay with your relatives,” Montanelli
+answered gently. “I am sure it would have been the worst possible thing
+for you. But I wish you could have accepted the invitation of your
+English doctor friend; if you had spent a month in his house you would
+have been more fit to study.”
+
+“No, Padre, I shouldn't indeed! The Warrens are very good and kind, but
+they don't understand; and then they are sorry for me,--I can see it
+in all their faces,--and they would try to console me, and talk about
+mother. Gemma wouldn't, of course; she always knew what not to say, even
+when we were babies; but the others would. And it isn't only that----”
+
+“What is it then, my son?”
+
+Arthur pulled off some blossoms from a drooping foxglove stem and
+crushed them nervously in his hand.
+
+“I can't bear the town,” he began after a moment's pause. “There are the
+shops where she used to buy me toys when I was a little thing, and the
+walk along the shore where I used to take her until she got too ill.
+Wherever I go it's the same thing; every market-girl comes up to me
+with bunches of flowers--as if I wanted them now! And there's the
+church-yard--I had to get away; it made me sick to see the place----”
+
+He broke off and sat tearing the foxglove bells to pieces. The silence
+was so long and deep that he looked up, wondering why the Padre did
+not speak. It was growing dark under the branches of the magnolia, and
+everything seemed dim and indistinct; but there was light enough to show
+the ghastly paleness of Montanelli's face. He was bending his head
+down, his right hand tightly clenched upon the edge of the bench. Arthur
+looked away with a sense of awe-struck wonder. It was as though he had
+stepped unwittingly on to holy ground.
+
+“My God!” he thought; “how small and selfish I am beside him! If my
+trouble were his own he couldn't feel it more.”
+
+Presently Montanelli raised his head and looked round. “I won't press
+you to go back there; at all events, just now,” he said in his most
+caressing tone; “but you must promise me to take a thorough rest when
+your vacation begins this summer. I think you had better get a holiday
+right away from the neighborhood of Leghorn. I can't have you breaking
+down in health.”
+
+“Where shall you go when the seminary closes, Padre?”
+
+“I shall have to take the pupils into the hills, as usual, and see them
+settled there. But by the middle of August the subdirector will be
+back from his holiday. I shall try to get up into the Alps for a little
+change. Will you come with me? I could take you for some long mountain
+rambles, and you would like to study the Alpine mosses and lichens. But
+perhaps it would be rather dull for you alone with me?”
+
+“Padre!” Arthur clasped his hands in what Julia called his
+“demonstrative foreign way.” “I would give anything on earth to go away
+with you. Only--I am not sure----” He stopped.
+
+“You don't think Mr. Burton would allow it?”
+
+“He wouldn't like it, of course, but he could hardly interfere. I
+am eighteen now and can do what I choose. After all, he's only my
+step-brother; I don't see that I owe him obedience. He was always unkind
+to mother.”
+
+“But if he seriously objects, I think you had better not defy his
+wishes; you may find your position at home made much harder if----”
+
+“Not a bit harder!” Arthur broke in passionately. “They always did hate
+me and always will--it doesn't matter what I do. Besides, how can James
+seriously object to my going away with you--with my father confessor?”
+
+“He is a Protestant, remember. However, you had better write to him, and
+we will wait to hear what he thinks. But you must not be impatient, my
+son; it matters just as much what you do, whether people hate you or
+love you.”
+
+The rebuke was so gently given that Arthur hardly coloured under it.
+“Yes, I know,” he answered, sighing; “but it is so difficult----”
+
+“I was sorry you could not come to me on Tuesday evening,” Montanelli
+said, abruptly introducing a new subject. “The Bishop of Arezzo was
+here, and I should have liked you to meet him.”
+
+“I had promised one of the students to go to a meeting at his lodgings,
+and they would have been expecting me.”
+
+“What sort of meeting?”
+
+Arthur seemed embarrassed by the question. “It--it was n-not a r-regular
+meeting,” he said with a nervous little stammer. “A student had come
+from Genoa, and he made a speech to us--a-a sort of--lecture.”
+
+“What did he lecture about?”
+
+Arthur hesitated. “You won't ask me his name, Padre, will you? Because I
+promised----”
+
+“I will ask you no questions at all, and if you have promised secrecy of
+course you must not tell me; but I think you can almost trust me by this
+time.”
+
+“Padre, of course I can. He spoke about--us and our duty to the
+people--and to--our own selves; and about--what we might do to help----”
+
+“To help whom?”
+
+“The contadini--and----”
+
+“And?”
+
+“Italy.”
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+“Tell me, Arthur,” said Montanelli, turning to him and speaking very
+gravely, “how long have you been thinking about this?”
+
+“Since--last winter.”
+
+“Before your mother's death? And did she know of it?”
+
+“N-no. I--I didn't care about it then.”
+
+“And now you--care about it?”
+
+Arthur pulled another handful of bells off the foxglove.
+
+“It was this way, Padre,” he began, with his eyes on the ground. “When I
+was preparing for the entrance examination last autumn, I got to know
+a good many of the students; you remember? Well, some of them began to
+talk to me about--all these things, and lent me books. But I didn't care
+much about it; I always wanted to get home quick to mother. You see, she
+was quite alone among them all in that dungeon of a house; and Julia's
+tongue was enough to kill her. Then, in the winter, when she got so ill,
+I forgot all about the students and their books; and then, you know, I
+left off coming to Pisa altogether. I should have talked to mother if
+I had thought of it; but it went right out of my head. Then I found out
+that she was going to die----You know, I was almost constantly with her
+towards the end; often I would sit up the night, and Gemma Warren would
+come in the day to let me get to sleep. Well, it was in those long
+nights; I got thinking about the books and about what the students had
+said--and wondering--whether they were right and--what--Our Lord would
+have said about it all.”
+
+“Did you ask Him?” Montanelli's voice was not quite steady.
+
+“Often, Padre. Sometimes I have prayed to Him to tell me what I must do,
+or to let me die with mother. But I couldn't find any answer.”
+
+“And you never said a word to me. Arthur, I hoped you could have trusted
+me.”
+
+“Padre, you know I trust you! But there are some things you can't talk
+about to anyone. I--it seemed to me that no one could help me--not even
+you or mother; I must have my own answer straight from God. You see, it
+is for all my life and all my soul.”
+
+Montanelli turned away and stared into the dusky gloom of the magnolia
+branches. The twilight was so dim that his figure had a shadowy look,
+like a dark ghost among the darker boughs.
+
+“And then?” he asked slowly.
+
+“And then--she died. You know, I had been up the last three nights with
+her----”
+
+He broke off and paused a moment, but Montanelli did not move.
+
+“All those two days before they buried her,” Arthur went on in a lower
+voice, “I couldn't think about anything. Then, after the funeral, I was
+ill; you remember, I couldn't come to confession.”
+
+“Yes; I remember.”
+
+“Well, in the night I got up and went into mother's room. It was all
+empty; there was only the great crucifix in the alcove. And I thought
+perhaps God would help me. I knelt down and waited--all night. And in
+the morning when I came to my senses--Padre, it isn't any use; I can't
+explain. I can't tell you what I saw--I hardly know myself. But I know
+that God has answered me, and that I dare not disobey Him.”
+
+For a moment they sat quite silent in the darkness. Then Montanelli
+turned and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder.
+
+“My son,” he said, “God forbid that I should say He has not spoken to
+your soul. But remember your condition when this thing happened, and do
+not take the fancies of grief or illness for His solemn call. And if,
+indeed, it has been His will to answer you out of the shadow of death,
+be sure that you put no false construction on His word. What is this
+thing you have it in your heart to do?”
+
+Arthur stood up and answered slowly, as though repeating a catechism:
+
+“To give up my life to Italy, to help in freeing her from all this
+slavery and wretchedness, and in driving out the Austrians, that she may
+be a free republic, with no king but Christ.”
+
+“Arthur, think a moment what you are saying! You are not even an
+Italian.”
+
+“That makes no difference; I am myself. I have seen this thing, and I
+belong to it.”
+
+There was silence again.
+
+“You spoke just now of what Christ would have said----” Montanelli began
+slowly; but Arthur interrupted him:
+
+“Christ said: 'He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.'”
+
+Montanelli leaned his arm against a branch, and shaded his eyes with one
+hand.
+
+“Sit down a moment, my son,” he said at last.
+
+Arthur sat down, and the Padre took both his hands in a strong and
+steady clasp.
+
+“I cannot argue with you to-night,” he said; “this has come upon me so
+suddenly--I had not thought--I must have time to think it over. Later on
+we will talk more definitely. But, for just now, I want you to remember
+one thing. If you get into trouble over this, if you--die, you will
+break my heart.”
+
+“Padre----”
+
+“No; let me finish what I have to say. I told you once that I have no
+one in the world but you. I think you do not fully understand what that
+means. It is difficult when one is so young; at your age I should not
+have understood. Arthur, you are as my--as my--own son to me. Do you
+see? You are the light of my eyes and the desire of my heart. I would
+die to keep you from making a false step and ruining your life. But
+there is nothing I can do. I don't ask you to make any promises to me; I
+only ask you to remember this, and to be careful. Think well before
+you take an irrevocable step, for my sake, if not for the sake of your
+mother in heaven.”
+
+“I will think--and--Padre, pray for me, and for Italy.”
+
+He knelt down in silence, and in silence Montanelli laid his hand on the
+bent head. A moment later Arthur rose, kissed the hand, and went softly
+away across the dewy grass. Montanelli sat alone under the magnolia
+tree, looking straight before him into the blackness.
+
+“It is the vengeance of God that has fallen upon me,” he thought, “as it
+fell upon David. I, that have defiled His sanctuary, and taken the Body
+of the Lord into polluted hands,--He has been very patient with me, and
+now it is come. 'For thou didst it secretly, but I will do this thing
+before all Israel, and before the sun; THE CHILD THAT IS BORN UNTO THEE
+SHALL SURELY DIE.'”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MR. JAMES BURTON did not at all like the idea of his young step-brother
+“careering about Switzerland” with Montanelli. But positively to forbid
+a harmless botanizing tour with an elderly professor of theology would
+seem to Arthur, who knew nothing of the reason for the prohibition,
+absurdly tyrannical. He would immediately attribute it to religious or
+racial prejudice; and the Burtons prided themselves on their
+enlightened tolerance. The whole family had been staunch Protestants
+and Conservatives ever since Burton & Sons, ship-owners, of London and
+Leghorn, had first set up in business, more than a century back. But
+they held that English gentlemen must deal fairly, even with Papists;
+and when the head of the house, finding it dull to remain a widower, had
+married the pretty Catholic governess of his younger children, the two
+elder sons, James and Thomas, much as they resented the presence of
+a step-mother hardly older than themselves, had submitted with sulky
+resignation to the will of Providence. Since the father's death the
+eldest brother's marriage had further complicated an already difficult
+position; but both brothers had honestly tried to protect Gladys, as
+long as she lived, from Julia's merciless tongue, and to do their duty,
+as they understood it, by Arthur. They did not even pretend to like the
+lad, and their generosity towards him showed itself chiefly in providing
+him with lavish supplies of pocket money and allowing him to go his own
+way.
+
+In answer to his letter, accordingly, Arthur received a cheque to
+cover his expenses and a cold permission to do as he pleased about
+his holidays. He expended half his spare cash on botanical books and
+pressing-cases, and started off with the Padre for his first Alpine
+ramble.
+
+Montanelli was in lighter spirits than Arthur had seen him in for a long
+while. After the first shock of the conversation in the garden he had
+gradually recovered his mental balance, and now looked upon the case
+more calmly. Arthur was very young and inexperienced; his decision could
+hardly be, as yet, irrevocable. Surely there was still time to win him
+back by gentle persuasion and reasoning from the dangerous path upon
+which he had barely entered.
+
+They had intended to stay a few days at Geneva; but at the first sight
+of the glaring white streets and dusty, tourist-crammed promenades,
+a little frown appeared on Arthur's face. Montanelli watched him with
+quiet amusement.
+
+“You don't like it, carino?”
+
+“I hardly know. It's so different from what I expected. Yes, the lake is
+beautiful, and I like the shape of those hills.” They were standing on
+Rousseau's Island, and he pointed to the long, severe outlines of
+the Savoy side. “But the town looks so stiff and tidy, somehow--so
+Protestant; it has a self-satisfied air. No, I don't like it; it reminds
+me of Julia.”
+
+Montanelli laughed. “Poor boy, what a misfortune! Well, we are here for
+our own amusement, so there is no reason why we should stop. Suppose we
+take a sail on the lake to-day, and go up into the mountains to-morrow
+morning?”
+
+“But, Padre, you wanted to stay here?”
+
+“My dear boy, I have seen all these places a dozen times. My holiday is
+to see your pleasure. Where would you like to go?”
+
+“If it is really the same to you, I should like to follow the river back
+to its source.”
+
+“The Rhone?”
+
+“No, the Arve; it runs so fast.”
+
+“Then we will go to Chamonix.”
+
+They spent the afternoon drifting about in a little sailing boat. The
+beautiful lake produced far less impression upon Arthur than the gray
+and muddy Arve. He had grown up beside the Mediterranean, and was
+accustomed to blue ripples; but he had a positive passion for swiftly
+moving water, and the hurried rushing of the glacier stream delighted
+him beyond measure. “It is so much in earnest,” he said.
+
+Early on the following morning they started for Chamonix. Arthur was in
+very high spirits while driving through the fertile valley country;
+but when they entered upon the winding road near Cluses, and the great,
+jagged hills closed in around them, he became serious and silent.
+From St. Martin they walked slowly up the valley, stopping to sleep at
+wayside chalets or tiny mountain villages, and wandering on again as
+their fancy directed. Arthur was peculiarly sensitive to the influence
+of scenery, and the first waterfall that they passed threw him into
+an ecstacy which was delightful to see; but as they drew nearer to
+the snow-peaks he passed out of this rapturous mood into one of dreamy
+exaltation that Montanelli had not seen before. There seemed to be a
+kind of mystical relationship between him and the mountains. He would
+lie for hours motionless in the dark, secret, echoing pine-forests,
+looking out between the straight, tall trunks into the sunlit outer
+world of flashing peaks and barren cliffs. Montanelli watched him with a
+kind of sad envy.
+
+“I wish you could show me what you see, carino,” he said one day as he
+looked up from his book, and saw Arthur stretched beside him on the moss
+in the same attitude as an hour before, gazing out with wide, dilated
+eyes into the glittering expanse of blue and white. They had turned
+aside from the high-road to sleep at a quiet village near the falls
+of the Diosaz, and, the sun being already low in a cloudless sky, had
+mounted a point of pine-clad rock to wait for the Alpine glow over the
+dome and needles of the Mont Blanc chain. Arthur raised his head with
+eyes full of wonder and mystery.
+
+“What I see, Padre? I see a great, white being in a blue void that has
+no beginning and no end. I see it waiting, age after age, for the coming
+of the Spirit of God. I see it through a glass darkly.”
+
+Montanelli sighed.
+
+“I used to see those things once.”
+
+“Do you never see them now?”
+
+“Never. I shall not see them any more. They are there, I know; but I
+have not the eyes to see them. I see quite other things.”
+
+“What do you see?”
+
+“I, carino? I see a blue sky and a snow-mountain--that is all when I
+look up into the heights. But down there it is different.”
+
+He pointed to the valley below them. Arthur knelt down and bent over
+the sheer edge of the precipice. The great pine trees, dusky in the
+gathering shades of evening, stood like sentinels along the narrow banks
+confining the river. Presently the sun, red as a glowing coal, dipped
+behind a jagged mountain peak, and all the life and light deserted the
+face of nature. Straightway there came upon the valley something
+dark and threatening--sullen, terrible, full of spectral weapons. The
+perpendicular cliffs of the barren western mountains seemed like the
+teeth of a monster lurking to snatch a victim and drag him down into the
+maw of the deep valley, black with its moaning forests. The pine
+trees were rows of knife-blades whispering: “Fall upon us!” and in the
+gathering darkness the torrent roared and howled, beating against its
+rocky prison walls with the frenzy of an everlasting despair.
+
+“Padre!” Arthur rose, shuddering, and drew back from the precipice. “It
+is like hell.”
+
+“No, my son,” Montanelli answered softly, “it is only like a human
+soul.”
+
+“The souls of them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death?”
+
+“The souls of them that pass you day by day in the street.”
+
+Arthur shivered, looking down into the shadows. A dim white mist was
+hovering among the pine trees, clinging faintly about the desperate
+agony of the torrent, like a miserable ghost that had no consolation to
+give.
+
+“Look!” Arthur said suddenly. “The people that walked in darkness have
+seen a great light.”
+
+Eastwards the snow-peaks burned in the afterglow. When the red light had
+faded from the summits Montanelli turned and roused Arthur with a touch
+on the shoulder.
+
+“Come in, carino; all the light is gone. We shall lose our way in the
+dark if we stay any longer.”
+
+“It is like a corpse,” Arthur said as he turned away from the spectral
+face of the great snow-peak glimmering through the twilight.
+
+They descended cautiously among the black trees to the chalet where they
+were to sleep.
+
+As Montanelli entered the room where Arthur was waiting for him at the
+supper table, he saw that the lad seemed to have shaken off the ghostly
+fancies of the dark, and to have changed into quite another creature.
+
+“Oh, Padre, do come and look at this absurd dog! It can dance on its
+hind legs.”
+
+He was as much absorbed in the dog and its accomplishments as he
+had been in the after-glow. The woman of the chalet, red-faced and
+white-aproned, with sturdy arms akimbo, stood by smiling, while he put
+the animal through its tricks. “One can see there's not much on his mind
+if he can carry on that way,” she said in patois to her daughter. “And
+what a handsome lad!”
+
+Arthur coloured like a schoolgirl, and the woman, seeing that he had
+understood, went away laughing at his confusion. At supper he talked
+of nothing but plans for excursions, mountain ascents, and botanizing
+expeditions. Evidently his dreamy fancies had not interfered with either
+his spirits or his appetite.
+
+When Montanelli awoke the next morning Arthur had disappeared. He had
+started before daybreak for the higher pastures “to help Gaspard drive
+up the goats.”
+
+Breakfast had not long been on the table, however, when he came tearing
+into the room, hatless, with a tiny peasant girl of three years old
+perched on his shoulder, and a great bunch of wild flowers in his hand.
+
+Montanelli looked up, smiling. This was a curious contrast to the grave
+and silent Arthur of Pisa or Leghorn.
+
+“Where have you been, you madcap? Scampering all over the mountains
+without any breakfast?”
+
+“Oh, Padre, it was so jolly! The mountains look perfectly glorious at
+sunrise; and the dew is so thick! Just look!”
+
+He lifted for inspection a wet and muddy boot.
+
+“We took some bread and cheese with us, and got some goat's milk up
+there on the pasture; oh, it was nasty! But I'm hungry again, now; and I
+want something for this little person, too. Annette, won't you have some
+honey?”
+
+He had sat down with the child on his knee, and was helping her to put
+the flowers in order.
+
+“No, no!” Montanelli interposed. “I can't have you catching cold. Run
+and change your wet things. Come to me, Annette. Where did you pick her
+up?”
+
+“At the top of the village. She belongs to the man we saw yesterday--the
+man that cobbles the commune's boots. Hasn't she lovely eyes? She's got
+a tortoise in her pocket, and she calls it 'Caroline.'”
+
+When Arthur had changed his wet socks and came down to breakfast he
+found the child seated on the Padre's knee, chattering volubly to him
+about her tortoise, which she was holding upside down in a chubby hand,
+that “monsieur” might admire the wriggling legs.
+
+“Look, monsieur!” she was saying gravely in her half-intelligible
+patois: “Look at Caroline's boots!”
+
+Montanelli sat playing with the child, stroking her hair, admiring her
+darling tortoise, and telling her wonderful stories. The woman of the
+chalet, coming in to clear the table, stared in amazement at the sight
+of Annette turning out the pockets of the grave gentleman in clerical
+dress.
+
+“God teaches the little ones to know a good man,” she said. “Annette is
+always afraid of strangers; and see, she is not shy with his reverence
+at all. The wonderful thing! Kneel down, Annette, and ask the good
+monsieur's blessing before he goes; it will bring thee luck.”
+
+“I didn't know you could play with children that way, Padre,” Arthur
+said an hour later, as they walked through the sunlit pasture-land.
+“That child never took her eyes off you all the time. Do you know, I
+think----”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“I was only going to say--it seems to me almost a pity that the Church
+should forbid priests to marry. I cannot quite understand why. You see,
+the training of children is such a serious thing, and it means so much
+to them to be surrounded from the very beginning with good influences,
+that I should have thought the holier a man's vocation and the purer his
+life, the more fit he is to be a father. I am sure, Padre, if you had
+not been under a vow,--if you had married,--your children would have
+been the very----”
+
+“Hush!”
+
+The word was uttered in a hasty whisper that seemed to deepen the
+ensuing silence.
+
+“Padre,” Arthur began again, distressed by the other's sombre look, “do
+you think there is anything wrong in what I said? Of course I may be
+mistaken; but I must think as it comes natural to me to think.”
+
+“Perhaps,” Montanelli answered gently, “you do not quite realize the
+meaning of what you just said. You will see differently in a few years.
+Meanwhile we had better talk about something else.”
+
+It was the first break in the perfect ease and harmony that reigned
+between them on this ideal holiday.
+
+From Chamonix they went on by the Tete-Noire to Martigny, where they
+stopped to rest, as the weather was stiflingly hot. After dinner they
+sat on the terrace of the hotel, which was sheltered from the sun and
+commanded a good view of the mountains. Arthur brought out his specimen
+box and plunged into an earnest botanical discussion in Italian.
+
+Two English artists were sitting on the terrace; one sketching, the
+other lazily chatting. It did not seem to have occurred to him that the
+strangers might understand English.
+
+“Leave off daubing at the landscape, Willie,” he said; “and draw that
+glorious Italian boy going into ecstasies over those bits of ferns. Just
+look at the line of his eyebrows! You only need to put a crucifix for
+the magnifying-glass and a Roman toga for the jacket and knickerbockers,
+and there's your Early Christian complete, expression and all.”
+
+“Early Christian be hanged! I sat beside that youth at dinner; he was
+just as ecstatic over the roast fowl as over those grubby little weeds.
+He's pretty enough; that olive colouring is beautiful; but he's not half
+so picturesque as his father.”
+
+“His--who?”
+
+“His father, sitting there straight in front of you. Do you mean to say
+you've passed him over? It's a perfectly magnificent face.”
+
+“Why, you dunder-headed, go-to-meeting Methodist! Don't you know a
+Catholic priest when you see one?”
+
+“A priest? By Jove, so he is! Yes, I forgot; vow of chastity, and all
+that sort of thing. Well then, we'll be charitable and suppose the boy's
+his nephew.”
+
+“What idiotic people!” Arthur whispered, looking up with dancing eyes.
+“Still, it is kind of them to think me like you; I wish I were really
+your nephew----Padre, what is the matter? How white you are!”
+
+Montanelli was standing up, pressing one hand to his forehead. “I am a
+little giddy,” he said in a curiously faint, dull tone. “Perhaps I was
+too much in the sun this morning. I will go and lie down, carino; it's
+nothing but the heat.”
+
+   *****
+
+After a fortnight beside the Lake of Lucerne Arthur and Montanelli
+returned to Italy by the St. Gothard Pass. They had been fortunate as
+to weather and had made several very pleasant excursions; but the
+first charm was gone out of their enjoyment. Montanelli was continually
+haunted by an uneasy thought of the “more definite talk” for which this
+holiday was to have been the opportunity. In the Arve valley he had
+purposely put off all reference to the subject of which they had spoken
+under the magnolia tree; it would be cruel, he thought, to spoil the
+first delights of Alpine scenery for a nature so artistic as Arthur's by
+associating them with a conversation which must necessarily be painful.
+Ever since the day at Martigny he had said to himself each morning; “I
+will speak to-day,” and each evening: “I will speak to-morrow;” and now
+the holiday was over, and he still repeated again and again: “To-morrow,
+to-morrow.” A chill, indefinable sense of something not quite the same
+as it had been, of an invisible veil falling between himself and
+Arthur, kept him silent, until, on the last evening of their holiday, he
+realized suddenly that he must speak now if he would speak at all. They
+were stopping for the night at Lugano, and were to start for Pisa next
+morning. He would at least find out how far his darling had been drawn
+into the fatal quicksand of Italian politics.
+
+“The rain has stopped, carino,” he said after sunset; “and this is the
+only chance we shall have to see the lake. Come out; I want to have a
+talk with you.”
+
+They walked along the water's edge to a quiet spot and sat down on a
+low stone wall. Close beside them grew a rose-bush, covered with scarlet
+hips; one or two belated clusters of creamy blossom still hung from an
+upper branch, swaying mournfully and heavy with raindrops. On the green
+surface of the lake a little boat, with white wings faintly fluttering,
+rocked in the dewy breeze. It looked as light and frail as a tuft of
+silvery dandelion seed flung upon the water. High up on Monte Salvatore
+the window of some shepherd's hut opened a golden eye. The roses hung
+their heads and dreamed under the still September clouds, and the water
+plashed and murmured softly among the pebbles of the shore.
+
+“This will be my only chance of a quiet talk with you for a long time,”
+ Montanelli began. “You will go back to your college work and friends;
+and I, too, shall be very busy this winter. I want to understand quite
+clearly what our position as regards each other is to be; and so, if
+you----” He stopped for a moment and then continued more slowly: “If you
+feel that you can still trust me as you used to do, I want you to tell
+me more definitely than that night in the seminary garden, how far you
+have gone.”
+
+Arthur looked out across the water, listened quietly, and said nothing.
+
+“I want to know, if you will tell me,” Montanelli went on; “whether you
+have bound yourself by a vow, or--in any way.”
+
+“There is nothing to tell, dear Padre; I have not bound myself, but I am
+bound.”
+
+“I don't understand------”
+
+“What is the use of vows? They are not what binds people. If you feel
+in a certain way about a thing, that binds you to it; if you don't feel
+that way, nothing else can bind you.”
+
+“Do you mean, then, that this thing--this--feeling is quite irrevocable?
+Arthur, have you thought what you are saying?”
+
+Arthur turned round and looked straight into Montanelli's eyes.
+
+“Padre, you asked me if I could trust you. Can you not trust me, too?
+Indeed, if there were anything to tell, I would tell it to you; but
+there is no use in talking about these things. I have not forgotten what
+you said to me that night; I shall never forget it. But I must go my way
+and follow the light that I see.”
+
+Montanelli picked a rose from the bush, pulled off the petals one by
+one, and tossed them into the water.
+
+“You are right, carino. Yes, we will say no more about these things;
+it seems there is indeed no help in many words----Well, well, let us go
+in.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE autumn and winter passed uneventfully. Arthur was reading hard and
+had little spare time. He contrived to get a glimpse of Montanelli once
+or oftener in every week, if only for a few minutes. From time to time
+he would come in to ask for help with some difficult book; but on these
+occasions the subject of study was strictly adhered to. Montanelli,
+feeling, rather than observing, the slight, impalpable barrier that
+had come between them, shrank from everything which might seem like an
+attempt to retain the old close relationship. Arthur's visits now caused
+him more distress than pleasure, so trying was the constant effort to
+appear at ease and to behave as if nothing were altered. Arthur, for his
+part, noticed, hardly understanding it, the subtle change in the Padre's
+manner; and, vaguely feeling that it had some connection with the vexed
+question of the “new ideas,” avoided all mention of the subject with
+which his thoughts were constantly filled. Yet he had never
+loved Montanelli so deeply as now. The dim, persistent sense of
+dissatisfaction, of spiritual emptiness, which he had tried so hard to
+stifle under a load of theology and ritual, had vanished into nothing at
+the touch of Young Italy. All the unhealthy fancies born of loneliness
+and sick-room watching had passed away, and the doubts against which he
+used to pray had gone without the need of exorcism. With the awakening
+of a new enthusiasm, a clearer, fresher religious ideal (for it was more
+in this light than in that of a political development that the
+students' movement had appeared to him), had come a sense of rest and
+completeness, of peace on earth and good will towards men; and in this
+mood of solemn and tender exaltation all the world seemed to him full of
+light. He found a new element of something lovable in the persons whom
+he had most disliked; and Montanelli, who for five years had been his
+ideal hero, was now in his eyes surrounded with an additional halo, as
+a potential prophet of the new faith. He listened with passionate
+eagerness to the Padre's sermons, trying to find in them some trace of
+inner kinship with the republican ideal; and pored over the Gospels,
+rejoicing in the democratic tendencies of Christianity at its origin.
+
+One day in January he called at the seminary to return a book which he
+had borrowed. Hearing that the Father Director was out, he went up to
+Montanelli's private study, placed the volume on its shelf, and was
+about to leave the room when the title of a book lying on the table
+caught his eyes. It was Dante's “De Monarchia.” He began to read it and
+soon became so absorbed that when the door opened and shut he did not
+hear. He was aroused from his preoccupation by Montanelli's voice behind
+him.
+
+“I did not expect you to-day,” said the Padre, glancing at the title of
+the book. “I was just going to send and ask if you could come to me this
+evening.”
+
+“Is it anything important? I have an engagement for this evening; but I
+will miss it if------”
+
+“No; to-morrow will do. I want to see you because I am going away on
+Tuesday. I have been sent for to Rome.”
+
+“To Rome? For long?”
+
+“The letter says, 'till after Easter.' It is from the Vatican. I would
+have let you know at once, but have been very busy settling up things
+about the seminary and making arrangements for the new Director.”
+
+“But, Padre, surely you are not giving up the seminary?”
+
+“It will have to be so; but I shall probably come back to Pisa, for some
+time at least.”
+
+“But why are you giving it up?”
+
+“Well, it is not yet officially announced; but I am offered a
+bishopric.”
+
+“Padre! Where?”
+
+“That is the point about which I have to go to Rome. It is not yet
+decided whether I am to take a see in the Apennines, or to remain here
+as Suffragan.”
+
+“And is the new Director chosen yet?”
+
+“Father Cardi has been nominated and arrives here to-morrow.”
+
+“Is not that rather sudden?”
+
+“Yes; but----The decisions of the Vatican are sometimes not communicated
+till the last moment.”
+
+“Do you know the new Director?”
+
+“Not personally; but he is very highly spoken of. Monsignor Belloni, who
+writes, says that he is a man of great erudition.”
+
+“The seminary will miss you terribly.”
+
+“I don't know about the seminary, but I am sure you will miss me,
+carino; perhaps almost as much as I shall miss you.”
+
+“I shall indeed; but I am very glad, for all that.”
+
+“Are you? I don't know that I am.” He sat down at the table with a weary
+look on his face; not the look of a man who is expecting high promotion.
+
+“Are you busy this afternoon, Arthur?” he said after a moment. “If not,
+I wish you would stay with me for a while, as you can't come to-night.
+I am a little out of sorts, I think; and I want to see as much of you as
+possible before leaving.”
+
+“Yes, I can stay a bit. I am due at six.”
+
+“One of your meetings?”
+
+Arthur nodded; and Montanelli changed the subject hastily.
+
+“I want to speak to you about yourself,” he said. “You will need another
+confessor in my absence.”
+
+“When you come back I may go on confessing to you, may I not?”
+
+“My dear boy, how can you ask? Of course I am speaking only of the three
+or four months that I shall be away. Will you go to one of the Fathers
+of Santa Caterina?”
+
+“Very well.”
+
+They talked of other matters for a little while; then Arthur rose.
+
+“I must go, Padre; the students will be waiting for me.”
+
+The haggard look came back to Montanelli's face.
+
+“Already? You had almost charmed away my black mood. Well, good-bye.”
+
+“Good-bye. I will be sure to come to-morrow.”
+
+“Try to come early, so that I may have time to see you alone. Father
+Cardi will be here. Arthur, my dear boy, be careful while I am gone;
+don't be led into doing anything rash, at least before I come back. You
+cannot think how anxious I feel about leaving you.”
+
+“There is no need, Padre; everything is quite quiet. It will be a long
+time yet.”
+
+“Good-bye,” Montanelli said abruptly, and sat down to his writing.
+
+The first person upon whom Arthur's eyes fell, as he entered the room
+where the students' little gatherings were held, was his old playmate,
+Dr. Warren's daughter. She was sitting in a corner by the window,
+listening with an absorbed and earnest face to what one of the
+“initiators,” a tall young Lombard in a threadbare coat, was saying to
+her. During the last few months she had changed and developed greatly,
+and now looked a grown-up young woman, though the dense black plaits
+still hung down her back in school-girl fashion. She was dressed all in
+black, and had thrown a black scarf over her head, as the room was cold
+and draughty. At her breast was a spray of cypress, the emblem of Young
+Italy. The initiator was passionately describing to her the misery
+of the Calabrian peasantry; and she sat listening silently, her chin
+resting on one hand and her eyes on the ground. To Arthur she seemed
+a melancholy vision of Liberty mourning for the lost Republic.
+(Julia would have seen in her only an overgrown hoyden, with a sallow
+complexion, an irregular nose, and an old stuff frock that was too short
+for her.)
+
+“You here, Jim!” he said, coming up to her when the initiator had been
+called to the other end of the room. “Jim” was a childish corruption of
+her curious baptismal name: Jennifer. Her Italian schoolmates called her
+“Gemma.”
+
+She raised her head with a start.
+
+“Arthur! Oh, I didn't know you--belonged here!”
+
+“And I had no idea about you. Jim, since when have you----?”
+
+“You don't understand!” she interposed quickly. “I am not a member.
+It is only that I have done one or two little things. You see, I met
+Bini--you know Carlo Bini?”
+
+“Yes, of course.” Bini was the organizer of the Leghorn branch; and all
+Young Italy knew him.
+
+“Well, he began talking to me about these things; and I asked him to
+let me go to a students' meeting. The other day he wrote to me to
+Florence------Didn't you know I had been to Florence for the Christmas
+holidays?”
+
+“I don't often hear from home now.”
+
+“Ah, yes! Anyhow, I went to stay with the Wrights.” (The Wrights were
+old schoolfellows of hers who had moved to Florence.) “Then Bini wrote
+and told me to pass through Pisa to-day on my way home, so that I could
+come here. Ah! they're going to begin.”
+
+The lecture was upon the ideal Republic and the duty of the young to
+fit themselves for it. The lecturer's comprehension of his subject was
+somewhat vague; but Arthur listened with devout admiration. His mind at
+this period was curiously uncritical; when he accepted a moral ideal
+he swallowed it whole without stopping to think whether it was quite
+digestible. When the lecture and the long discussion which followed it
+were finished and the students began to disperse, he went up to Gemma,
+who was still sitting in the corner of the room.
+
+“Let me walk with you, Jim. Where are you staying?”
+
+“With Marietta.”
+
+“Your father's old housekeeper?”
+
+“Yes; she lives a good way from here.”
+
+They walked for some time in silence. Then Arthur said suddenly:
+
+“You are seventeen, now, aren't you?”
+
+“I was seventeen in October.”
+
+“I always knew you would not grow up like other girls and begin wanting
+to go to balls and all that sort of thing. Jim, dear, I have so often
+wondered whether you would ever come to be one of us.”
+
+“So have I.”
+
+“You said you had done things for Bini; I didn't know you even knew
+him.”
+
+“It wasn't for Bini; it was for the other one.”
+
+“Which other one?”
+
+“The one that was talking to me to-night--Bolla.”
+
+“Do you know him well?” Arthur put in with a little touch of jealousy.
+Bolla was a sore subject with him; there had been a rivalry between them
+about some work which the committee of Young Italy had finally intrusted
+to Bolla, declaring Arthur too young and inexperienced.
+
+“I know him pretty well; and I like him very much. He has been staying
+in Leghorn.”
+
+“I know; he went there in November------”
+
+“Because of the steamers. Arthur, don't you think your house would be
+safer than ours for that work? Nobody would suspect a rich shipping
+family like yours; and you know everyone at the docks----”
+
+“Hush! not so loud, dear! So it was in your house the books from
+Marseilles were hidden?”
+
+“Only for one day. Oh! perhaps I oughtn't to have told you.”
+
+“Why not? You know I belong to the society. Gemma, dear, there is
+nothing in all the world that would make me so happy as for you to join
+us--you and the Padre.”
+
+“Your Padre! Surely he----”
+
+“No; he thinks differently. But I have sometimes fancied--that
+is--hoped--I don't know----”
+
+“But, Arthur! he's a priest.”
+
+“What of that? There are priests in the society--two of them write in
+the paper. And why not? It is the mission of the priesthood to lead the
+world to higher ideals and aims, and what else does the society try
+to do? It is, after all, more a religious and moral question than a
+political one. If people are fit to be free and responsible citizens, no
+one can keep them enslaved.”
+
+Gemma knit her brows. “It seems to me, Arthur,” she said, “that there's
+a muddle somewhere in your logic. A priest teaches religious doctrine. I
+don't see what that has to do with getting rid of the Austrians.”
+
+“A priest is a teacher of Christianity, and the greatest of all
+revolutionists was Christ.”
+
+“Do you know, I was talking about priests to father the other day, and
+he said----”
+
+“Gemma, your father is a Protestant.”
+
+After a little pause she looked round at him frankly.
+
+“Look here, we had better leave this subject alone. You are always
+intolerant when you talk about Protestants.”
+
+“I didn't mean to be intolerant. But I think Protestants are generally
+intolerant when they talk about priests.”
+
+“I dare say. Anyhow, we have so often quarreled over this subject
+that it is not worth while to begin again. What did you think of the
+lecture?”
+
+“I liked it very much--especially the last part. I was glad he spoke so
+strongly about the need of living the Republic, not dreaming of it. It
+is as Christ said: 'The Kingdom of Heaven is within you.'”
+
+“It was just that part that I didn't like. He talked so much of the
+wonderful things we ought to think and feel and be, but he never told us
+practically what we ought to do.”
+
+“When the time of crisis comes there will be plenty for us to do; but we
+must be patient; these great changes are not made in a day.”
+
+“The longer a thing is to take doing, the more reason to begin at once.
+You talk about being fit for freedom--did you ever know anyone so fit
+for it as your mother? Wasn't she the most perfectly angelic woman you
+ever saw? And what use was all her goodness? She was a slave till the
+day she died--bullied and worried and insulted by your brother James and
+his wife. It would have been much better for her if she had not been so
+sweet and patient; they would never have treated her so. That's just the
+way with Italy; it's not patience that's wanted--it's for somebody to
+get up and defend themselves------”
+
+“Jim, dear, if anger and passion could have saved Italy she would have
+been free long ago; it is not hatred that she needs, it is love.”
+
+As he said the word a sudden flush went up to his forehead and died out
+again. Gemma did not see it; she was looking straight before her with
+knitted brows and set mouth.
+
+“You think I am wrong, Arthur,” she said after a pause; “but I am right,
+and you will grow to see it some day. This is the house. Will you come
+in?”
+
+“No; it's late. Good-night, dear!”
+
+He was standing on the doorstep, clasping her hand in both of his.
+
+“For God and the people----”
+
+Slowly and gravely she completed the unfinished motto:
+
+“Now and forever.”
+
+Then she pulled away her hand and ran into the house. When the door had
+closed behind her he stooped and picked up the spray of cypress which
+had fallen from her breast.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ARTHUR went back to his lodgings feeling as though he had wings. He was
+absolutely, cloudlessly happy. At the meeting there had been hints of
+preparations for armed insurrection; and now Gemma was a comrade, and he
+loved her. They could work together, possibly even die together, for the
+Republic that was to be. The blossoming time of their hope was come, and
+the Padre would see it and believe.
+
+The next morning, however, he awoke in a soberer mood and remembered
+that Gemma was going to Leghorn and the Padre to Rome. January,
+February, March--three long months to Easter! And if Gemma should
+fall under “Protestant” influences at home (in Arthur's vocabulary
+“Protestant” stood for “Philistine”)------No, Gemma would never learn to
+flirt and simper and captivate tourists and bald-headed shipowners, like
+the other English girls in Leghorn; she was made of different stuff. But
+she might be very miserable; she was so young, so friendless, so utterly
+alone among all those wooden people. If only mother had lived----
+
+In the evening he went to the seminary, where he found Montanelli
+entertaining the new Director and looking both tired and bored. Instead
+of lighting up, as usual, at the sight of Arthur, the Padre's face grew
+darker.
+
+“This is the student I spoke to you about,” he said, introducing Arthur
+stiffly. “I shall be much obliged if you will allow him to continue
+using the library.”
+
+Father Cardi, a benevolent-looking elderly priest, at once began talking
+to Arthur about the Sapienza, with an ease and familiarity which showed
+him to be well acquainted with college life. The conversation soon
+drifted into a discussion of university regulations, a burning question
+of that day. To Arthur's great delight, the new Director spoke strongly
+against the custom adopted by the university authorities of constantly
+worrying the students by senseless and vexatious restrictions.
+
+“I have had a good deal of experience in guiding young people,” he said;
+“and I make it a rule never to prohibit anything without a good reason.
+There are very few young men who will give much trouble if proper
+consideration and respect for their personality are shown to them. But,
+of course, the most docile horse will kick if you are always jerking at
+the rein.”
+
+Arthur opened his eyes wide; he had not expected to hear the students'
+cause pleaded by the new Director. Montanelli took no part in the
+discussion; its subject, apparently, did not interest him. The
+expression of his face was so unutterably hopeless and weary that Father
+Cardi broke off suddenly.
+
+“I am afraid I have overtired you, Canon. You must forgive my
+talkativeness; I am hot upon this subject and forget that others may
+grow weary of it.”
+
+“On the contrary, I was much interested.” Montanelli was not given to
+stereotyped politeness, and his tone jarred uncomfortably upon Arthur.
+
+When Father Cardi went to his own room Montanelli turned to Arthur with
+the intent and brooding look that his face had worn all the evening.
+
+“Arthur, my dear boy,” he began slowly; “I have something to tell you.”
+
+“He must have had bad news,” flashed through Arthur's mind, as he looked
+anxiously at the haggard face. There was a long pause.
+
+“How do you like the new Director?” Montanelli asked suddenly.
+
+The question was so unexpected that, for a moment, Arthur was at a loss
+how to reply to it.
+
+“I--I like him very much, I think--at least--no, I am not quite sure
+that I do. But it is difficult to say, after seeing a person once.”
+
+Montanelli sat beating his hand gently on the arm of his chair; a habit
+with him when anxious or perplexed.
+
+“About this journey to Rome,” he began again; “if you think there is
+any--well--if you wish it, Arthur, I will write and say I cannot go.”
+
+“Padre! But the Vatican------”
+
+“The Vatican will find someone else. I can send apologies.”
+
+“But why? I can't understand.”
+
+Montanelli drew one hand across his forehead.
+
+“I am anxious about you. Things keep coming into my head--and after all,
+there is no need for me to go------”
+
+“But the bishopric----”
+
+“Oh, Arthur! what shall it profit me if I gain a bishopric and lose----”
+
+He broke off. Arthur had never seen him like this before, and was
+greatly troubled.
+
+“I can't understand,” he said. “Padre, if you could explain to me
+more--more definitely, what it is you think------”
+
+“I think nothing; I am haunted with a horrible fear. Tell me, is there
+any special danger?”
+
+“He has heard something,” Arthur thought, remembering the whispers of
+a projected revolt. But the secret was not his to tell; and he merely
+answered: “What special danger should there be?”
+
+“Don't question me--answer me!” Montanelli's voice was almost harsh in
+its eagerness. “Are you in danger? I don't want to know your secrets;
+only tell me that!”
+
+“We are all in God's hands, Padre; anything may always happen. But I
+know of no reason why I should not be here alive and safe when you come
+back.”
+
+“When I come back----Listen, carino; I will leave it in your hands. You
+need give me no reason; only say to me, 'Stay,' and I will give up this
+journey. There will be no injury to anyone, and I shall feel you are
+safer if I have you beside me.”
+
+This kind of morbid fancifulness was so foreign to Montanelli's
+character that Arthur looked at him with grave anxiety.
+
+“Padre, I am sure you are not well. Of course you must go to Rome,
+and try to have a thorough rest and get rid of your sleeplessness and
+headaches.”
+
+“Very well,” Montanelli interrupted, as if tired of the subject; “I will
+start by the early coach to-morrow morning.”
+
+Arthur looked at him, wondering.
+
+“You had something to tell me?” he said.
+
+“No, no; nothing more--nothing of any consequence.” There was a
+startled, almost terrified look in his face.
+
+A few days after Montanelli's departure Arthur went to fetch a book from
+the seminary library, and met Father Cardi on the stairs.
+
+“Ah, Mr. Burton!” exclaimed the Director; “the very person I wanted.
+Please come in and help me out of a difficulty.”
+
+He opened the study door, and Arthur followed him into the room with
+a foolish, secret sense of resentment. It seemed hard to see this dear
+study, the Padre's own private sanctum, invaded by a stranger.
+
+“I am a terrible book-worm,” said the Director; “and my first act when I
+got here was to examine the library. It seems very interesting, but I do
+not understand the system by which it is catalogued.”
+
+“The catalogue is imperfect; many of the best books have been added to
+the collection lately.”
+
+“Can you spare half an hour to explain the arrangement to me?”
+
+They went into the library, and Arthur carefully explained the
+catalogue. When he rose to take his hat, the Director interfered,
+laughing.
+
+“No, no! I can't have you rushing off in that way. It is Saturday, and
+quite time for you to leave off work till Monday morning. Stop and have
+supper with me, now I have kept you so late. I am quite alone, and shall
+be glad of company.”
+
+His manner was so bright and pleasant that Arthur felt at ease with him
+at once. After some desultory conversation, the Director inquired how
+long he had known Montanelli.
+
+“For about seven years. He came back from China when I was twelve years
+old.”
+
+“Ah, yes! It was there that he gained his reputation as a missionary
+preacher. Have you been his pupil ever since?”
+
+“He began teaching me a year later, about the time when I first
+confessed to him. Since I have been at the Sapienza he has still gone on
+helping me with anything I wanted to study that was not in the regular
+course. He has been very kind to me--you can hardly imagine how kind.”
+
+“I can well believe it; he is a man whom no one can fail to admire--a
+most noble and beautiful nature. I have met priests who were out in
+China with him; and they had no words high enough to praise his energy
+and courage under all hardships, and his unfailing devotion. You are
+fortunate to have had in your youth the help and guidance of such a man.
+I understood from him that you have lost both parents.”
+
+“Yes; my father died when I was a child, and my mother a year ago.”
+
+“Have you brothers and sisters?”
+
+“No; I have step-brothers; but they were business men when I was in the
+nursery.”
+
+“You must have had a lonely childhood; perhaps you value Canon
+Montanelli's kindness the more for that. By the way, have you chosen a
+confessor for the time of his absence?”
+
+“I thought of going to one of the fathers of Santa Caterina, if they
+have not too many penitents.”
+
+“Will you confess to me?”
+
+Arthur opened his eyes in wonder.
+
+“Reverend Father, of course I--should be glad; only----”
+
+“Only the Director of a theological seminary does not usually receive
+lay penitents? That is quite true. But I know Canon Montanelli takes
+a great interest in you, and I fancy he is a little anxious on your
+behalf--just as I should be if I were leaving a favourite pupil--and
+would like to know you were under the spiritual guidance of his
+colleague. And, to be quite frank with you, my son, I like you, and
+should be glad to give you any help I can.”
+
+“If you put it that way, of course I shall be very grateful for your
+guidance.”
+
+“Then you will come to me next month? That's right. And run in to see
+me, my lad, when you have time any evening.”
+
+    *****
+
+Shortly before Easter Montanelli's appointment to the little see of
+Brisighella, in the Etruscan Apennines, was officially announced. He
+wrote to Arthur from Rome in a cheerful and tranquil spirit; evidently
+his depression was passing over. “You must come to see me every
+vacation,” he wrote; “and I shall often be coming to Pisa; so I hope to
+see a good deal of you, if not so much as I should wish.”
+
+Dr. Warren had invited Arthur to spend the Easter holidays with him and
+his children, instead of in the dreary, rat-ridden old place where Julia
+now reigned supreme. Enclosed in the letter was a short note, scrawled
+in Gemma's childish, irregular handwriting, begging him to come if
+possible, “as I want to talk to you about something.” Still more
+encouraging was the whispered communication passing around from student
+to student in the university; everyone was to be prepared for great
+things after Easter.
+
+All this had put Arthur into a state of rapturous anticipation, in which
+the wildest improbabilities hinted at among the students seemed to him
+natural and likely to be realized within the next two months.
+
+He arranged to go home on Thursday in Passion week, and to spend the
+first days of the vacation there, that the pleasure of visiting the
+Warrens and the delight of seeing Gemma might not unfit him for the
+solemn religious meditation demanded by the Church from all her children
+at this season. He wrote to Gemma, promising to come on Easter Monday;
+and went up to his bedroom on Wednesday night with a soul at peace.
+
+He knelt down before the crucifix. Father Cardi had promised to receive
+him in the morning; and for this, his last confession before the Easter
+communion, he must prepare himself by long and earnest prayer. Kneeling
+with clasped hands and bent head, he looked back over the month, and
+reckoned up the miniature sins of impatience, carelessness, hastiness
+of temper, which had left their faint, small spots upon the whiteness of
+his soul. Beyond these he could find nothing; in this month he had
+been too happy to sin much. He crossed himself, and, rising, began to
+undress.
+
+As he unfastened his shirt a scrap of paper slipped from it and
+fluttered to the floor. It was Gemma's letter, which he had worn all
+day upon his neck. He picked it up, unfolded it, and kissed the
+dear scribble; then began folding the paper up again, with a dim
+consciousness of having done something very ridiculous, when he noticed
+on the back of the sheet a postscript which he had not read before.
+“Be sure and come as soon as possible,” it ran, “for I want you to meet
+Bolla. He has been staying here, and we have read together every day.”
+
+The hot colour went up to Arthur's forehead as he read.
+
+Always Bolla! What was he doing in Leghorn again? And why should Gemma
+want to read with him? Had he bewitched her with his smuggling? It had
+been quite easy to see at the meeting in January that he was in love
+with her; that was why he had been so earnest over his propaganda. And
+now he was close to her--reading with her every day.
+
+Arthur suddenly threw the letter aside and knelt down again before the
+crucifix. And this was the soul that was preparing for absolution, for
+the Easter sacrament--the soul at peace with God and itself and all the
+world! A soul capable of sordid jealousies and suspicions; of selfish
+animosities and ungenerous hatred--and against a comrade! He covered his
+face with both hands in bitter humiliation. Only five minutes ago he
+had been dreaming of martyrdom; and now he had been guilty of a mean and
+petty thought like this!
+
+When he entered the seminary chapel on Thursday morning he found Father
+Cardi alone. After repeating the Confiteor, he plunged at once into the
+subject of his last night's backsliding.
+
+“My father, I accuse myself of the sins of jealousy and anger, and of
+unworthy thoughts against one who has done me no wrong.”
+
+Farther Cardi knew quite well with what kind of penitent he had to deal.
+He only said softly:
+
+“You have not told me all, my son.”
+
+“Father, the man against whom I have thought an unchristian thought is
+one whom I am especially bound to love and honour.”
+
+“One to whom you are bound by ties of blood?”
+
+“By a still closer tie.”
+
+“By what tie, my son?”
+
+“By that of comradeship.”
+
+“Comradeship in what?”
+
+“In a great and holy work.”
+
+A little pause.
+
+“And your anger against this--comrade, your jealousy of him, was called
+forth by his success in that work being greater than yours?”
+
+“I--yes, partly. I envied him his experience--his usefulness. And
+then--I thought--I feared--that he would take from me the heart of the
+girl I--love.”
+
+“And this girl that you love, is she a daughter of the Holy Church?”
+
+“No; she is a Protestant.”
+
+“A heretic?”
+
+Arthur clasped his hands in great distress. “Yes, a heretic,” he
+repeated. “We were brought up together; our mothers were
+friends--and I--envied him, because I saw that he loves her, too, and
+because--because----”
+
+“My son,” said Father Cardi, speaking after a moment's silence, slowly
+and gravely, “you have still not told me all; there is more than this
+upon your soul.”
+
+“Father, I----” He faltered and broke off again.
+
+The priest waited silently.
+
+“I envied him because the society--the Young Italy--that I belong
+to------”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“Intrusted him with a work that I had hoped--would be given to me, that
+I had thought myself--specially adapted for.”
+
+“What work?”
+
+“The taking in of books--political books--from the steamers that bring
+them--and finding a hiding place for them--in the town------”
+
+“And this work was given by the party to your rival?”
+
+“To Bolla--and I envied him.”
+
+“And he gave you no cause for this feeling? You do not accuse him of
+having neglected the mission intrusted to him?”
+
+“No, father; he has worked bravely and devotedly; he is a true patriot
+and has deserved nothing but love and respect from me.”
+
+Father Cardi pondered.
+
+“My son, if there is within you a new light, a dream of some great work
+to be accomplished for your fellow-men, a hope that shall lighten the
+burdens of the weary and oppressed, take heed how you deal with the most
+precious blessing of God. All good things are of His giving; and of His
+giving is the new birth. If you have found the way of sacrifice, the way
+that leads to peace; if you have joined with loving comrades to bring
+deliverance to them that weep and mourn in secret; then see to it that
+your soul be free from envy and passion and your heart as an altar where
+the sacred fire burns eternally. Remember that this is a high and holy
+thing, and that the heart which would receive it must be purified from
+every selfish thought. This vocation is as the vocation of a priest;
+it is not for the love of a woman, nor for the moment of a fleeting
+passion; it is FOR GOD AND THE PEOPLE; it is NOW AND FOREVER.”
+
+“Ah!” Arthur started and clasped his hands; he had almost burst out
+sobbing at the motto. “Father, you give us the sanction of the Church!
+Christ is on our side----”
+
+“My son,” the priest answered solemnly, “Christ drove the moneychangers
+out of the Temple, for His House shall be called a House of Prayer, and
+they had made it a den of thieves.”
+
+After a long silence, Arthur whispered tremulously:
+
+“And Italy shall be His Temple when they are driven out----”
+
+He stopped; and the soft answer came back:
+
+“'The earth and the fulness thereof are mine, saith the Lord.'”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THAT afternoon Arthur felt the need of a long walk. He intrusted his
+luggage to a fellow-student and went to Leghorn on foot.
+
+The day was damp and cloudy, but not cold; and the low, level country
+seemed to him fairer than he had ever known it to look before. He had a
+sense of delight in the soft elasticity of the wet grass under his
+feet and in the shy, wondering eyes of the wild spring flowers by the
+roadside. In a thorn-acacia bush at the edge of a little strip of wood
+a bird was building a nest, and flew up as he passed with a startled cry
+and a quick fluttering of brown wings.
+
+He tried to keep his mind fixed upon the devout meditations proper to
+the eve of Good Friday. But thoughts of Montanelli and Gemma got so
+much in the way of this devotional exercise that at last he gave up the
+attempt and allowed his fancy to drift away to the wonders and glories
+of the coming insurrection, and to the part in it that he had allotted
+to his two idols. The Padre was to be the leader, the apostle, the
+prophet before whose sacred wrath the powers of darkness were to flee,
+and at whose feet the young defenders of Liberty were to learn
+afresh the old doctrines, the old truths in their new and unimagined
+significance.
+
+And Gemma? Oh, Gemma would fight at the barricades. She was made of the
+clay from which heroines are moulded; she would be the perfect comrade,
+the maiden undefiled and unafraid, of whom so many poets have dreamed.
+She would stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, rejoicing under the
+winged death-storm; and they would die together, perhaps in the moment
+of victory--without doubt there would be a victory. Of his love he would
+tell her nothing; he would say no word that might disturb her peace or
+spoil her tranquil sense of comradeship. She was to him a holy thing,
+a spotless victim to be laid upon the altar as a burnt-offering for the
+deliverance of the people; and who was he that he should enter into the
+white sanctuary of a soul that knew no other love than God and Italy?
+
+God and Italy----Then came a sudden drop from the clouds as he entered
+the great, dreary house in the “Street of Palaces,” and Julia's butler,
+immaculate, calm, and politely disapproving as ever, confronted him upon
+the stairs.
+
+“Good-evening, Gibbons; are my brothers in?”
+
+“Mr. Thomas is in, sir; and Mrs. Burton. They are in the drawing room.”
+
+Arthur went in with a dull sense of oppression. What a dismal house
+it was! The flood of life seemed to roll past and leave it always just
+above high-water mark. Nothing in it ever changed--neither the people,
+nor the family portraits, nor the heavy furniture and ugly plate, nor
+the vulgar ostentation of riches, nor the lifeless aspect of everything.
+Even the flowers on the brass stands looked like painted metal flowers
+that had never known the stirring of young sap within them in the warm
+spring days. Julia, dressed for dinner, and waiting for visitors in the
+drawing room which was to her the centre of existence, might have sat
+for a fashion-plate just as she was, with her wooden smile and flaxen
+ringlets, and the lap-dog on her knee.
+
+“How do you do, Arthur?” she said stiffly, giving him the tips of her
+fingers for a moment, and then transferring them to the more congenial
+contact of the lap-dog's silken coat. “I hope you are quite well and
+have made satisfactory progress at college.”
+
+Arthur murmured the first commonplace that he could think of at the
+moment, and relapsed into uncomfortable silence. The arrival of
+James, in his most pompous mood and accompanied by a stiff, elderly
+shipping-agent, did not improve matters; and when Gibbons announced that
+dinner was served, Arthur rose with a little sigh of relief.
+
+“I won't come to dinner, Julia. If you'll excuse me I will go to my
+room.”
+
+“You're overdoing that fasting, my boy,” said Thomas; “I am sure you'll
+make yourself ill.”
+
+“Oh, no! Good-night.”
+
+In the corridor Arthur met the under housemaid and asked her to knock at
+his door at six in the morning.
+
+“The signorino is going to church?”
+
+“Yes. Good-night, Teresa.”
+
+He went into his room. It had belonged to his mother, and the alcove
+opposite the window had been fitted up during her long illness as an
+oratory. A great crucifix on a black pedestal occupied the middle of the
+altar; and before it hung a little Roman lamp. This was the room where
+she had died. Her portrait was on the wall beside the bed; and on the
+table stood a china bowl which had been hers, filled with a great bunch
+of her favourite violets. It was just a year since her death; and the
+Italian servants had not forgotten her.
+
+He took out of his portmanteau a framed picture, carefully wrapped up.
+It was a crayon portrait of Montanelli, which had come from Rome only a
+few days before. He was unwrapping this precious treasure when Julia's
+page brought in a supper-tray on which the old Italian cook, who had
+served Gladys before the harsh, new mistress came, had placed such
+little delicacies as she considered her dear signorino might permit
+himself to eat without infringing the rules of the Church. Arthur
+refused everything but a piece of bread; and the page, a nephew of
+Gibbons, lately arrived from England, grinned significantly as he
+carried out the tray. He had already joined the Protestant camp in the
+servants' hall.
+
+Arthur went into the alcove and knelt down before the crucifix, trying
+to compose his mind to the proper attitude for prayer and meditation.
+But this he found difficult to accomplish. He had, as Thomas said,
+rather overdone the Lenten privations, and they had gone to his head
+like strong wine. Little quivers of excitement went down his back, and
+the crucifix swam in a misty cloud before his eyes. It was only after a
+long litany, mechanically repeated, that he succeeded in recalling his
+wandering imagination to the mystery of the Atonement. At last sheer
+physical weariness conquered the feverish agitation of his nerves, and
+he lay down to sleep in a calm and peaceful mood, free from all unquiet
+or disturbing thoughts.
+
+He was fast asleep when a sharp, impatient knock came at his door. “Ah,
+Teresa!” he thought, turning over lazily. The knock was repeated, and he
+awoke with a violent start.
+
+“Signorino! signorino!” cried a man's voice in Italian; “get up for the
+love of God!”
+
+Arthur jumped out of bed.
+
+“What is the matter? Who is it?”
+
+“It's I, Gian Battista. Get up, quick, for Our Lady's sake!”
+
+Arthur hurriedly dressed and opened the door. As he stared in perplexity
+at the coachman's pale, terrified face, the sound of tramping feet and
+clanking metal came along the corridor, and he suddenly realized the
+truth.
+
+“For me?” he asked coolly.
+
+“For you! Oh, signorino, make haste! What have you to hide? See, I can
+put----”
+
+“I have nothing to hide. Do my brothers know?”
+
+The first uniform appeared at the turn of the passage.
+
+“The signor has been called; all the house is awake. Alas! what a
+misfortune--what a terrible misfortune! And on Good Friday! Holy Saints,
+have pity!”
+
+Gian Battista burst into tears. Arthur moved a few steps forward and
+waited for the gendarmes, who came clattering along, followed by a
+shivering crowd of servants in various impromptu costumes. As the
+soldiers surrounded Arthur, the master and mistress of the house
+brought up the rear of this strange procession; he in dressing gown and
+slippers, she in a long peignoir, with her hair in curlpapers.
+
+“There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to
+the ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts!”
+
+The quotation flashed across Arthur's mind as he looked at the
+grotesque figures. He checked a laugh with a sense of its jarring
+incongruity--this was a time for worthier thoughts. “Ave Maria, Regina
+Coeli!” he whispered, and turned his eyes away, that the bobbing of
+Julia's curlpapers might not again tempt him to levity.
+
+“Kindly explain to me,” said Mr. Burton, approaching the officer of
+gendarmerie, “what is the meaning of this violent intrusion into a
+private house? I warn you that, unless you are prepared to furnish me
+with a satisfactory explanation, I shall feel bound to complain to the
+English Ambassador.”
+
+“I presume,” replied the officer stiffly, “that you will recognize this
+as a sufficient explanation; the English Ambassador certainly will.”
+ He pulled out a warrant for the arrest of Arthur Burton, student of
+philosophy, and, handing it to James, added coldly: “If you wish for
+any further explanation, you had better apply in person to the chief of
+police.”
+
+Julia snatched the paper from her husband, glanced over it, and flew at
+Arthur like nothing else in the world but a fashionable lady in a rage.
+
+“So it's you that have disgraced the family!” she screamed; “setting all
+the rabble in the town gaping and staring as if the thing were a show?
+So you have turned jail-bird, now, with all your piety! It's what we
+might have expected from that Popish woman's child----”
+
+“You must not speak to a prisoner in a foreign language, madam,” the
+officer interrupted; but his remonstrance was hardly audible under the
+torrent of Julia's vociferous English.
+
+“Just what we might have expected! Fasting and prayer and saintly
+meditation; and this is what was underneath it all! I thought that would
+be the end of it.”
+
+Dr. Warren had once compared Julia to a salad into which the cook had
+upset the vinegar cruet. The sound of her thin, hard voice set Arthur's
+teeth on edge, and the simile suddenly popped up in his memory.
+
+“There's no use in this kind of talk,” he said. “You need not be afraid
+of any unpleasantness; everyone will understand that you are all quite
+innocent. I suppose, gentlemen, you want to search my things. I have
+nothing to hide.”
+
+While the gendarmes ransacked the room, reading his letters, examining
+his college papers, and turning out drawers and boxes, he sat waiting
+on the edge of the bed, a little flushed with excitement, but in no
+way distressed. The search did not disquiet him. He had always burned
+letters which could possibly compromise anyone, and beyond a few
+manuscript verses, half revolutionary, half mystical, and two or three
+numbers of Young Italy, the gendarmes found nothing to repay them for
+their trouble. Julia, after a long resistance, yielded to the entreaties
+of her brother-in-law and went back to bed, sweeping past Arthur with
+magnificent disdain, James meekly following.
+
+When they had left the room, Thomas, who all this while had been
+tramping up and down, trying to look indifferent, approached the officer
+and asked permission to speak to the prisoner. Receiving a nod in
+answer, he went up to Arthur and muttered in a rather husky voice:
+
+“I say; this is an infernally awkward business. I'm very sorry about
+it.”
+
+Arthur looked up with a face as serene as a summer morning. “You have
+always been good to me,” he said. “There's nothing to be sorry about. I
+shall be safe enough.”
+
+“Look here, Arthur!” Thomas gave his moustache a hard pull and plunged
+head first into the awkward question. “Is--all this anything to do
+with--money? Because, if it is, I----”
+
+“With money! Why, no! What could it have to do----”
+
+“Then it's some political tomfoolery? I thought so. Well, don't you get
+down in the mouth--and never mind all the stuff Julia talks. It's only
+her spiteful tongue; and if you want help,--cash, or anything,--let me
+know, will you?”
+
+Arthur held out his hand in silence, and Thomas left the room with a
+carefully made-up expression of unconcern that rendered his face more
+stolid than ever.
+
+The gendarmes, meanwhile, had finished their search, and the officer in
+charge requested Arthur to put on his outdoor clothes. He obeyed at once
+and turned to leave the room; then stopped with sudden hesitation. It
+seemed hard to take leave of his mother's oratory in the presence of
+these officials.
+
+“Have you any objection to leaving the room for a moment?” he asked.
+“You see that I cannot escape and that there is nothing to conceal.”
+
+“I am sorry, but it is forbidden to leave a prisoner alone.”
+
+“Very well, it doesn't matter.”
+
+He went into the alcove, and, kneeling down, kissed the feet and
+pedestal of the crucifix, whispering softly: “Lord, keep me faithful
+unto death.”
+
+When he rose, the officer was standing by the table, examining
+Montanelli's portrait. “Is this a relative of yours?” he asked.
+
+“No; it is my confessor, the new Bishop of Brisighella.”
+
+On the staircase the Italian servants were waiting, anxious and
+sorrowful. They all loved Arthur for his own sake and his mother's, and
+crowded round him, kissing his hands and dress with passionate grief.
+Gian Battista stood by, the tears dripping down his gray moustache. None
+of the Burtons came out to take leave of him. Their coldness accentuated
+the tenderness and sympathy of the servants, and Arthur was near to
+breaking down as he pressed the hands held out to him.
+
+“Good-bye, Gian Battista. Kiss the little ones for me. Good-bye, Teresa.
+Pray for me, all of you; and God keep you! Good-bye, good-bye!”
+
+He ran hastily downstairs to the front door. A moment later only a
+little group of silent men and sobbing women stood on the doorstep
+watching the carriage as it drove away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ARTHUR was taken to the huge mediaeval fortress at the harbour's mouth.
+He found prison life fairly endurable. His cell was unpleasantly damp
+and dark; but he had been brought up in a palace in the Via Borra, and
+neither close air, rats, nor foul smells were novelties to him. The
+food, also, was both bad and insufficient; but James soon obtained
+permission to send him all the necessaries of life from home. He was
+kept in solitary confinement, and, though the vigilance of the
+warders was less strict than he had expected, he failed to obtain any
+explanation of the cause of his arrest. Nevertheless, the tranquil frame
+of mind in which he had entered the fortress did not change. Not being
+allowed books, he spent his time in prayer and devout meditation, and
+waited without impatience or anxiety for the further course of events.
+
+One day a soldier unlocked the door of his cell and called to him: “This
+way, please!” After two or three questions, to which he got no answer
+but, “Talking is forbidden,” Arthur resigned himself to the inevitable
+and followed the soldier through a labyrinth of courtyards, corridors,
+and stairs, all more or less musty-smelling, into a large, light room in
+which three persons in military uniform sat at a long table covered with
+green baize and littered with papers, chatting in a languid, desultory
+way. They put on a stiff, business air as he came in, and the oldest of
+them, a foppish-looking man with gray whiskers and a colonel's uniform,
+pointed to a chair on the other side of the table and began the
+preliminary interrogation.
+
+Arthur had expected to be threatened, abused, and sworn at, and had
+prepared himself to answer with dignity and patience; but he was
+pleasantly disappointed. The colonel was stiff, cold and formal,
+but perfectly courteous. The usual questions as to his name, age,
+nationality, and social position were put and answered, and the replies
+written down in monotonous succession. He was beginning to feel bored
+and impatient, when the colonel asked:
+
+“And now, Mr. Burton, what do you know about Young Italy?”
+
+“I know that it is a society which publishes a newspaper in Marseilles
+and circulates it in Italy, with the object of inducing people to revolt
+and drive the Austrian army out of the country.”
+
+“You have read this paper, I think?”
+
+“Yes; I am interested in the subject.”
+
+“When you read it you realized that you were committing an illegal
+action?”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“Where did you get the copies which were found in your room?”
+
+“That I cannot tell you.”
+
+“Mr. Burton, you must not say 'I cannot tell' here; you are bound to
+answer my questions.”
+
+“I will not, then, if you object to 'cannot.'”
+
+“You will regret it if you permit yourself to use such expressions,”
+ remarked the colonel. As Arthur made no reply, he went on:
+
+“I may as well tell you that evidence has come into our hands proving
+your connection with this society to be much more intimate than is
+implied by the mere reading of forbidden literature. It will be to your
+advantage to confess frankly. In any case the truth will be sure to come
+out, and you will find it useless to screen yourself behind evasion and
+denials.”
+
+“I have no desire to screen myself. What is it you want to know?”
+
+“Firstly, how did you, a foreigner, come to be implicated in matters of
+this kind?”
+
+“I thought about the subject and read everything I could get hold of,
+and formed my own conclusions.”
+
+“Who persuaded you to join this society?”
+
+“No one; I wished to join it.”
+
+“You are shilly-shallying with me,” said the colonel, sharply; his
+patience was evidently beginning to give out. “No one can join a society
+by himself. To whom did you communicate your wish to join it?”
+
+Silence.
+
+“Will you have the kindness to answer me?”
+
+“Not when you ask questions of that kind.”
+
+Arthur spoke sullenly; a curious, nervous irritability was taking
+possession of him. He knew by this time that many arrests had been made
+in both Leghorn and Pisa; and, though still ignorant of the extent of
+the calamity, he had already heard enough to put him into a fever of
+anxiety for the safety of Gemma and his other friends. The studied
+politeness of the officers, the dull game of fencing and parrying, of
+insidious questions and evasive answers, worried and annoyed him, and
+the clumsy tramping backward and forward of the sentinel outside the
+door jarred detestably upon his ear.
+
+“Oh, by the bye, when did you last meet Giovanni Bolla?” asked the
+colonel, after a little more bandying of words. “Just before you left
+Pisa, was it?”
+
+“I know no one of that name.”
+
+“What! Giovanni Bolla? Surely you know him--a tall young fellow, closely
+shaven. Why, he is one of your fellow-students.”
+
+“There are many students in the university whom I don't know.”
+
+“Oh, but you must know Bolla, surely! Look, this is his handwriting. You
+see, he knows you well enough.”
+
+The colonel carelessly handed him a paper headed: “Protocol,” and
+signed: “Giovanni Bolla.” Glancing down it Arthur came upon his own
+name. He looked up in surprise. “Am I to read it?”
+
+“Yes, you may as well; it concerns you.”
+
+He began to read, while the officers sat silently watching his face. The
+document appeared to consist of depositions in answer to a long string
+of questions. Evidently Bolla, too, must have been arrested. The first
+depositions were of the usual stereotyped character; then followed
+a short account of Bolla's connection with the society, of the
+dissemination of prohibited literature in Leghorn, and of the students'
+meetings. Next came “Among those who joined us was a young Englishman,
+Arthur Burton, who belongs to one of the rich shipowning families.”
+
+The blood rushed into Arthur's face. Bolla had betrayed him! Bolla, who
+had taken upon himself the solemn duties of an initiator--Bolla, who had
+converted Gemma--who was in love with her! He laid down the paper and
+stared at the floor.
+
+“I hope that little document has refreshed your memory?” hinted the
+colonel politely.
+
+Arthur shook his head. “I know no one of that name,” he repeated in a
+dull, hard voice. “There must be some mistake.”
+
+“Mistake? Oh, nonsense! Come, Mr. Burton, chivalry and quixotism are
+very fine things in their way; but there's no use in overdoing them.
+It's an error all you young people fall into at first. Come, think! What
+good is it for you to compromise yourself and spoil your prospects in
+life over a simple formality about a man that has betrayed you? You see
+yourself, he wasn't so particular as to what he said about you.”
+
+A faint shade of something like mockery had crept into the colonel's
+voice. Arthur looked up with a start; a sudden light flashed upon his
+mind.
+
+“It's a lie!” he cried out. “It's a forgery! I can see it in your face,
+you cowardly----You've got some prisoner there you want to compromise,
+or a trap you want to drag me into. You are a forger, and a liar, and a
+scoundrel----”
+
+“Silence!” shouted the colonel, starting up in a rage; his two
+colleagues were already on their feet. “Captain Tommasi,” he went on,
+turning to one of them, “ring for the guard, if you please, and have
+this young gentleman put in the punishment cell for a few days. He wants
+a lesson, I see, to bring him to reason.”
+
+The punishment cell was a dark, damp, filthy hole under ground. Instead
+of bringing Arthur “to reason,” it thoroughly exasperated him. His
+luxurious home had rendered him daintily fastidious about personal
+cleanliness, and the first effect of the slimy, vermin-covered walls,
+the floor heaped with accumulations of filth and garbage, the fearful
+stench of fungi and sewage and rotting wood, was strong enough to have
+satisfied the offended officer. When he was pushed in and the door
+locked behind him he took three cautious steps forward with outstretched
+hands, shuddering with disgust as his fingers came into contact with
+the slippery wall, and groped in the dense blackness for some spot less
+filthy than the rest in which to sit down.
+
+The long day passed in unbroken blackness and silence, and the night
+brought no change. In the utter void and absence of all external
+impressions, he gradually lost the consciousness of time; and when,
+on the following morning, a key was turned in the door lock, and the
+frightened rats scurried past him squeaking, he started up in a sudden
+panic, his heart throbbing furiously and a roaring noise in his ears, as
+though he had been shut away from light and sound for months instead of
+hours.
+
+The door opened, letting in a feeble lantern gleam--a flood of blinding
+light, it seemed to him--and the head warder entered, carrying a piece
+of bread and a mug of water. Arthur made a step forward; he was quite
+convinced that the man had come to let him out. Before he had time to
+speak, the warder put the bread and mug into his hands, turned round and
+went away without a word, locking the door again.
+
+Arthur stamped his foot upon the ground. For the first time in his life
+he was savagely angry. But as the hours went by, the consciousness of
+time and place gradually slipped further and further away. The blackness
+seemed an illimitable thing, with no beginning and no end, and life had,
+as it were, stopped for him. On the evening of the third day, when the
+door was opened and the head warder appeared on the threshold with a
+soldier, he looked up, dazed and bewildered, shading his eyes from the
+unaccustomed light, and vaguely wondering how many hours or weeks he had
+been in this grave.
+
+“This way, please,” said the cool business voice of the warder. Arthur
+rose and moved forward mechanically, with a strange unsteadiness,
+swaying and stumbling like a drunkard. He resented the warder's attempt
+to help him up the steep, narrow steps leading to the courtyard; but as
+he reached the highest step a sudden giddiness came over him, so that he
+staggered and would have fallen backwards had the warder not caught him
+by the shoulder.
+
+   *****
+
+“There, he'll be all right now,” said a cheerful voice; “they most of
+them go off this way coming out into the air.”
+
+Arthur struggled desperately for breath as another handful of water
+was dashed into his face. The blackness seemed to fall away from him
+in pieces with a rushing noise; then he woke suddenly into full
+consciousness, and, pushing aside the warder's arm, walked along the
+corridor and up the stairs almost steadily. They stopped for a moment in
+front of a door; then it opened, and before he realized where they were
+taking him he was in the brightly lighted interrogation room, staring in
+confused wonder at the table and the papers and the officers sitting in
+their accustomed places.
+
+“Ah, it's Mr. Burton!” said the colonel. “I hope we shall be able to
+talk more comfortably now. Well, and how do you like the dark cell? Not
+quite so luxurious as your brother's drawing room, is it? eh?”
+
+Arthur raised his eyes to the colonel's smiling face. He was seized by
+a frantic desire to spring at the throat of this gray-whiskered fop and
+tear it with his teeth. Probably something of this kind was visible in
+his face, for the colonel added immediately, in a quite different tone:
+
+“Sit down, Mr. Burton, and drink some water; you are excited.”
+
+Arthur pushed aside the glass of water held out to him; and, leaning his
+arms on the table, rested his forehead on one hand and tried to
+collect his thoughts. The colonel sat watching him keenly, noting with
+experienced eyes the unsteady hands and lips, the hair dripping with
+water, the dim gaze that told of physical prostration and disordered
+nerves.
+
+“Now, Mr. Burton,” he said after a few minutes; “we will start at the
+point where we left off; and as there has been a certain amount of
+unpleasantness between us, I may as well begin by saying that I, for my
+part, have no desire to be anything but indulgent with you. If you will
+behave properly and reasonably, I assure you that we shall not treat you
+with any unnecessary harshness.”
+
+“What do you want me to do?”
+
+Arthur spoke in a hard, sullen voice, quite different from his natural
+tone.
+
+“I only want you to tell us frankly, in a straightforward and honourable
+manner, what you know of this society and its adherents. First of all,
+how long have you known Bolla?”
+
+“I never met him in my life. I know nothing whatever about him.”
+
+“Really? Well, we will return to that subject presently. I think you
+know a young man named Carlo Bini?”
+
+“I never heard of such a person.”
+
+“That is very extraordinary. What about Francesco Neri?”
+
+“I never heard the name.”
+
+“But here is a letter in your handwriting, addressed to him. Look!”
+
+Arthur glanced carelessly at the letter and laid it aside.
+
+“Do you recognize that letter?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“You deny that it is in your writing?”
+
+“I deny nothing. I have no recollection of it.”
+
+“Perhaps you remember this one?”
+
+A second letter was handed to him, and he saw that it was one which he
+had written in the autumn to a fellow-student.
+
+“No.”
+
+“Nor the person to whom it is addressed?”
+
+“Nor the person.”
+
+“Your memory is singularly short.”
+
+“It is a defect from which I have always suffered.”
+
+“Indeed! And I heard the other day from a university professor that you
+are considered by no means deficient; rather clever in fact.”
+
+“You probably judge of cleverness by the police-spy standard; university
+professors use words in a different sense.”
+
+The note of rising irritation was plainly audible in Arthur's voice. He
+was physically exhausted with hunger, foul air, and want of sleep; every
+bone in his body seemed to ache separately; and the colonel's voice
+grated on his exasperated nerves, setting his teeth on edge like the
+squeak of a slate pencil.
+
+“Mr. Burton,” said the colonel, leaning back in his chair and speaking
+gravely, “you are again forgetting yourself; and I warn you once more
+that this kind of talk will do you no good. Surely you have had enough
+of the dark cell not to want any more just for the present. I tell you
+plainly that I shall use strong measures with you if you persist in
+repulsing gentle ones. Mind, I have proof--positive proof--that some
+of these young men have been engaged in smuggling prohibited literature
+into this port; and that you have been in communication with them. Now,
+are you going to tell me, without compulsion, what you know about this
+affair?”
+
+Arthur bent his head lower. A blind, senseless, wild-beast fury was
+beginning to stir within him like a live thing. The possibility of
+losing command over himself was more appalling to him than any threats.
+For the first time he began to realize what latent potentialities may
+lie hidden beneath the culture of any gentleman and the piety of any
+Christian; and the terror of himself was strong upon him.
+
+“I am waiting for your answer,” said the colonel.
+
+“I have no answer to give.”
+
+“You positively refuse to answer?”
+
+“I will tell you nothing at all.”
+
+“Then I must simply order you back into the punishment cell, and keep
+you there till you change your mind. If there is much more trouble with
+you, I shall put you in irons.”
+
+Arthur looked up, trembling from head to foot. “You will do as you
+please,” he said slowly; “and whether the English Ambassador will stand
+your playing tricks of that kind with a British subject who has not been
+convicted of any crime is for him to decide.”
+
+At last Arthur was conducted back to his own cell, where he flung
+himself down upon the bed and slept till the next morning. He was not
+put in irons, and saw no more of the dreaded dark cell; but the
+feud between him and the colonel grew more inveterate with every
+interrogation. It was quite useless for Arthur to pray in his cell for
+grace to conquer his evil passions, or to meditate half the night long
+upon the patience and meekness of Christ. No sooner was he brought again
+into the long, bare room with its baize-covered table, and confronted
+with the colonel's waxed moustache, than the unchristian spirit would
+take possession of him once more, suggesting bitter repartees and
+contemptuous answers. Before he had been a month in the prison the
+mutual irritation had reached such a height that he and the colonel
+could not see each other's faces without losing their temper.
+
+The continual strain of this petty warfare was beginning to tell heavily
+upon his nerves. Knowing how closely he was watched, and remembering
+certain dreadful rumours which he had heard of prisoners secretly
+drugged with belladonna that notes might be taken of their ravings, he
+gradually became afraid to sleep or eat; and if a mouse ran past him in
+the night, would start up drenched with cold sweat and quivering with
+terror, fancying that someone was hiding in the room to listen if he
+talked in his sleep. The gendarmes were evidently trying to entrap him
+into making some admission which might compromise Bolla; and so great
+was his fear of slipping, by any inadvertency, into a pitfall, that he
+was really in danger of doing so through sheer nervousness. Bolla's name
+rang in his ears night and day, interfering even with his devotions, and
+forcing its way in among the beads of the rosary instead of the name of
+Mary. But the worst thing of all was that his religion, like the outer
+world, seemed to be slipping away from him as the days went by. To this
+last foothold he clung with feverish tenacity, spending several hours
+of each day in prayer and meditation; but his thoughts wandered more and
+more often to Bolla, and the prayers were growing terribly mechanical.
+
+His greatest comfort was the head warder of the prison. This was a
+little old man, fat and bald, who at first had tried his hardest to wear
+a severe expression. Gradually the good nature which peeped out of every
+dimple in his chubby face conquered his official scruples, and he began
+carrying messages for the prisoners from cell to cell.
+
+One afternoon in the middle of May this warder came into the cell with a
+face so scowling and gloomy that Arthur looked at him in astonishment.
+
+“Why, Enrico!” he exclaimed; “what on earth is wrong with you to-day?”
+
+“Nothing,” said Enrico snappishly; and, going up to the pallet, he began
+pulling off the rug, which was Arthur's property.
+
+“What do you want with my things? Am I to be moved into another cell?”
+
+“No; you're to be let out.”
+
+“Let out? What--to-day? For altogether? Enrico!”
+
+In his excitement Arthur had caught hold of the old man's arm. It was
+angrily wrenched away.
+
+“Enrico! What has come to you? Why don't you answer? Are we all going to
+be let out?”
+
+A contemptuous grunt was the only reply.
+
+“Look here!” Arthur again took hold of the warder's arm, laughing.
+“It is no use for you to be cross to me, because I'm not going to get
+offended. I want to know about the others.”
+
+“Which others?” growled Enrico, suddenly laying down the shirt he was
+folding. “Not Bolla, I suppose?”
+
+“Bolla and all the rest, of course. Enrico, what is the matter with
+you?”
+
+“Well, he's not likely to be let out in a hurry, poor lad, when a
+comrade has betrayed him. Ugh!” Enrico took up the shirt again in
+disgust.
+
+“Betrayed him? A comrade? Oh, how dreadful!” Arthur's eyes dilated with
+horror. Enrico turned quickly round.
+
+“Why, wasn't it you?”
+
+“I? Are you off your head, man? I?”
+
+“Well, they told him so yesterday at interrogation, anyhow. I'm very
+glad if it wasn't you, for I always thought you were rather a decent
+young fellow. This way!” Enrico stepped out into the corridor and Arthur
+followed him, a light breaking in upon the confusion of his mind.
+
+“They told Bolla I'd betrayed him? Of course they did! Why, man, they
+told me he had betrayed me. Surely Bolla isn't fool enough to believe
+that sort of stuff?”
+
+“Then it really isn't true?” Enrico stopped at the foot of the stairs
+and looked searchingly at Arthur, who merely shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“Of course it's a lie.”
+
+“Well, I'm glad to hear it, my lad, and I'll tell him you said so. But
+you see what they told him was that you had denounced him out of--well,
+out of jealousy, because of your both being sweet on the same girl.”
+
+“It's a lie!” Arthur repeated the words in a quick, breathless whisper.
+A sudden, paralyzing fear had come over him. “The same girl--jealousy!”
+ How could they know--how could they know?
+
+“Wait a minute, my lad.” Enrico stopped in the corridor leading to the
+interrogation room, and spoke softly. “I believe you; but just tell me
+one thing. I know you're a Catholic; did you ever say anything in the
+confessional------”
+
+“It's a lie!” This time Arthur's voice had risen to a stifled cry.
+
+Enrico shrugged his shoulders and moved on again. “You know best, of
+course; but you wouldn't be the only young fool that's been taken in
+that way. There's a tremendous ado just now about a priest in Pisa that
+some of your friends have found out. They've printed a leaflet saying
+he's a spy.”
+
+He opened the door of the interrogation room, and, seeing that Arthur
+stood motionless, staring blankly before him, pushed him gently across
+the threshold.
+
+“Good-afternoon, Mr. Burton,” said the colonel, smiling and showing his
+teeth amiably. “I have great pleasure in congratulating you. An order
+for your release has arrived from Florence. Will you kindly sign this
+paper?”
+
+Arthur went up to him. “I want to know,” he said in a dull voice, “who
+it was that betrayed me.”
+
+The colonel raised his eyebrows with a smile.
+
+“Can't you guess? Think a minute.”
+
+Arthur shook his head. The colonel put out both hands with a gesture of
+polite surprise.
+
+“Can't guess? Really? Why, you yourself, Mr. Burton. Who else could know
+your private love affairs?”
+
+Arthur turned away in silence. On the wall hung a large wooden crucifix;
+and his eyes wandered slowly to its face; but with no appeal in them,
+only a dim wonder at this supine and patient God that had no thunderbolt
+for a priest who betrayed the confessional.
+
+“Will you kindly sign this receipt for your papers?” said the colonel
+blandly; “and then I need not keep you any longer. I am sure you must be
+in a hurry to get home; and my time is very much taken up just now with
+the affairs of that foolish young man, Bolla, who tried your Christian
+forbearance so hard. I am afraid he will get a rather heavy sentence.
+Good-afternoon!”
+
+Arthur signed the receipt, took his papers, and went out in dead
+silence. He followed Enrico to the massive gate; and, without a word of
+farewell, descended to the water's edge, where a ferryman was waiting to
+take him across the moat. As he mounted the stone steps leading to
+the street, a girl in a cotton dress and straw hat ran up to him with
+outstretched hands.
+
+“Arthur! Oh, I'm so glad--I'm so glad!”
+
+He drew his hands away, shivering.
+
+“Jim!” he said at last, in a voice that did not seem to belong to him.
+“Jim!”
+
+“I've been waiting here for half an hour. They said you would come
+out at four. Arthur, why do you look at me like that? Something has
+happened! Arthur, what has come to you? Stop!”
+
+He had turned away, and was walking slowly down the street, as if he
+had forgotten her presence. Thoroughly frightened at his manner, she ran
+after him and caught him by the arm.
+
+“Arthur!”
+
+He stopped and looked up with bewildered eyes. She slipped her arm
+through his, and they walked on again for a moment in silence.
+
+“Listen, dear,” she began softly; “you mustn't get so upset over this
+wretched business. I know it's dreadfully hard on you, but everybody
+understands.”
+
+“What business?” he asked in the same dull voice.
+
+“I mean, about Bolla's letter.”
+
+Arthur's face contracted painfully at the name.
+
+“I thought you wouldn't have heard of it,” Gemma went on; “but I suppose
+they've told you. Bolla must be perfectly mad to have imagined such a
+thing.”
+
+“Such a thing----?”
+
+“You don't know about it, then? He has written a horrible letter,
+saying that you have told about the steamers, and got him arrested. It's
+perfectly absurd, of course; everyone that knows you sees that; it's
+only the people who don't know you that have been upset by it. Really,
+that's what I came here for--to tell you that no one in our group
+believes a word of it.”
+
+“Gemma! But it's--it's true!”
+
+She shrank slowly away from him, and stood quite still, her eyes wide
+and dark with horror, her face as white as the kerchief at her neck. A
+great icy wave of silence seemed to have swept round them both, shutting
+them out, in a world apart, from the life and movement of the street.
+
+“Yes,” he whispered at last; “the steamers--I spoke of that; and I said
+his name--oh, my God! my God! What shall I do?”
+
+He came to himself suddenly, realizing her presence and the mortal
+terror in her face. Yes, of course, she must think------
+
+“Gemma, you don't understand!” he burst out, moving nearer; but she
+recoiled with a sharp cry:
+
+“Don't touch me!”
+
+Arthur seized her right hand with sudden violence.
+
+“Listen, for God's sake! It was not my fault; I----”
+
+“Let go; let my hand go! Let go!”
+
+The next instant she wrenched her fingers away from his, and struck him
+across the cheek with her open hand.
+
+A kind of mist came over his eyes. For a little while he was conscious
+of nothing but Gemma's white and desperate face, and the right hand
+which she had fiercely rubbed on the skirt of her cotton dress. Then
+the daylight crept back again, and he looked round and saw that he was
+alone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IT had long been dark when Arthur rang at the front door of the great
+house in the Via Borra. He remembered that he had been wandering about
+the streets; but where, or why, or for how long, he had no idea. Julia's
+page opened the door, yawning, and grinned significantly at the haggard,
+stony face. It seemed to him a prodigious joke to have the young master
+come home from jail like a “drunk and disorderly” beggar. Arthur went
+upstairs. On the first floor he met Gibbons coming down with an air of
+lofty and solemn disapproval. He tried to pass with a muttered “Good
+evening”; but Gibbons was no easy person to get past against his will.
+
+“The gentlemen are out, sir,” he said, looking critically at Arthur's
+rather neglected dress and hair. “They have gone with the mistress to an
+evening party, and will not be back till nearly twelve.”
+
+Arthur looked at his watch; it was nine o'clock. Oh, yes! he would have
+time--plenty of time------
+
+“My mistress desired me to ask whether you would like any supper, sir;
+and to say that she hopes you will sit up for her, as she particularly
+wishes to speak to you this evening.”
+
+“I don't want anything, thank you; you can tell her I have not gone to
+bed.”
+
+He went up to his room. Nothing in it had been changed since his arrest;
+Montanelli's portrait was on the table where he had placed it, and
+the crucifix stood in the alcove as before. He paused a moment on the
+threshold, listening; but the house was quite still; evidently no one
+was coming to disturb him. He stepped softly into the room and locked
+the door.
+
+And so he had come to the end. There was nothing to think or trouble
+about; an importunate and useless consciousness to get rid of--and
+nothing more. It seemed a stupid, aimless kind of thing, somehow.
+
+He had not formed any resolve to commit suicide, nor indeed had he
+thought much about it; the thing was quite obvious and inevitable. He
+had even no definite idea as to what manner of death to choose; all that
+mattered was to be done with it quickly--to have it over and forget. He
+had no weapon in the room, not even a pocketknife; but that was of no
+consequence--a towel would do, or a sheet torn into strips.
+
+There was a large nail just over the window. That would do; but it must
+be firm to bear his weight. He got up on a chair to feel the nail; it
+was not quite firm, and he stepped down again and took a hammer from a
+drawer. He knocked in the nail, and was about to pull a sheet off his
+bed, when he suddenly remembered that he had not said his prayers. Of
+course, one must pray before dying; every Christian does that. There are
+even special prayers for a departing soul.
+
+He went into the alcove and knelt down before the crucifix. “Almighty
+and merciful God----” he began aloud; and with that broke off and said
+no more. Indeed, the world was grown so dull that there was nothing left
+to pray for--or against. And then, what did Christ know about a trouble
+of this kind--Christ, who had never suffered it? He had only been
+betrayed, like Bolla; He had never been tricked into betraying.
+
+Arthur rose, crossing himself from old habit. Approaching the table,
+he saw lying upon it a letter addressed to him, in Montanelli's
+handwriting. It was in pencil:
+
+
+“My Dear Boy: It is a great disappointment to me that I cannot see you
+on the day of your release; but I have been sent for to visit a dying
+man. I shall not get back till late at night. Come to me early to-morrow
+morning. In great haste,
+
+“L. M.”
+
+
+He put down the letter with a sigh; it did seem hard on the Padre.
+
+How the people had laughed and gossiped in the streets! Nothing was
+altered since the days when he had been alive. Not the least little one
+of all the daily trifles round him was changed because a human soul, a
+living human soul, had been struck down dead. It was all just the same
+as before. The water had plashed in the fountains; the sparrows had
+twittered under the eaves; just as they had done yesterday, just as they
+would do to-morrow. And as for him, he was dead--quite dead.
+
+He sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed his arms along the
+foot-rail, and rested his forehead upon them. There was plenty of time;
+and his head ached so--the very middle of the brain seemed to ache; it
+was all so dull and stupid--so utterly meaningless----
+
+    *****
+
+The front-door bell rang sharply, and he started up in a breathless
+agony of terror, with both hands at his throat. They had come back--he
+had sat there dreaming, and let the precious time slip away--and now
+he must see their faces and hear their cruel tongues--their sneers and
+comments--If only he had a knife------
+
+He looked desperately round the room. His mother's work-basket stood
+in a little cupboard; surely there would be scissors; he might sever an
+artery. No; the sheet and nail were safer, if he had time.
+
+He dragged the counterpane from his bed, and with frantic haste began
+tearing off a strip. The sound of footsteps came up the stairs. No; the
+strip was too wide; it would not tie firmly; and there must be a noose.
+He worked faster as the footsteps drew nearer; and the blood throbbed
+in his temples and roared in his ears. Quicker--quicker! Oh, God! five
+minutes more!
+
+There was a knock at the door. The strip of torn stuff dropped from his
+hands, and he sat quite still, holding his breath to listen. The handle
+of the door was tried; then Julia's voice called:
+
+“Arthur!”
+
+He stood up, panting.
+
+“Arthur, open the door, please; we are waiting.”
+
+He gathered up the torn counterpane, threw it into a drawer, and hastily
+smoothed down the bed.
+
+“Arthur!” This time it was James who called, and the door-handle was
+shaken impatiently. “Are you asleep?”
+
+Arthur looked round the room, saw that everything was hidden, and
+unlocked the door.
+
+“I should think you might at least have obeyed my express request that
+you should sit up for us, Arthur,” said Julia, sweeping into the room in
+a towering passion. “You appear to think it the proper thing for us to
+dance attendance for half an hour at your door----”
+
+“Four minutes, my dear,” James mildly corrected, stepping into the room
+at the end of his wife's pink satin train. “I certainly think, Arthur,
+that it would have been more--becoming if----”
+
+“What do you want?” Arthur interrupted. He was standing with his hand
+upon the door, glancing furtively from one to the other like a trapped
+animal. But James was too obtuse and Julia too angry to notice the look.
+
+Mr. Burton placed a chair for his wife and sat down, carefully pulling
+up his new trousers at the knees. “Julia and I,” he began, “feel it to
+be our duty to speak to you seriously about----”
+
+“I can't listen to-night; I--I'm not well. My head aches--you must
+wait.”
+
+Arthur spoke in a strange, indistinct voice, with a confused and
+rambling manner. James looked round in surprise.
+
+“Is there anything the matter with you?” he asked anxiously, suddenly
+remembering that Arthur had come from a very hotbed of infection. “I
+hope you're not sickening for anything. You look quite feverish.”
+
+“Nonsense!” Julia interrupted sharply. “It's only the usual theatricals,
+because he's ashamed to face us. Come here and sit down, Arthur.” Arthur
+slowly crossed the room and sat down on the bed. “Yes?” he said wearily.
+
+Mr. Burton coughed, cleared his throat, smoothed his already immaculate
+beard, and began the carefully prepared speech over again:
+
+“I feel it to be my duty--my painful duty--to speak very seriously
+to you about your extraordinary behaviour in connecting yourself
+with--a--law-breakers and incendiaries and--a--persons of disreputable
+character. I believe you to have been, perhaps, more foolish than
+depraved--a----”
+
+He paused.
+
+“Yes?” Arthur said again.
+
+“Now, I do not wish to be hard on you,” James went on, softening a
+little in spite of himself before the weary hopelessness of Arthur's
+manner. “I am quite willing to believe that you have been led away by
+bad companions, and to take into account your youth and inexperience and
+the--a--a--imprudent and--a--impulsive character which you have, I fear,
+inherited from your mother.”
+
+Arthur's eyes wandered slowly to his mother's portrait and back again,
+but he did not speak.
+
+“But you will, I feel sure, understand,” James continued, “that it is
+quite impossible for me to keep any longer in my house a person who has
+brought public disgrace upon a name so highly respected as ours.”
+
+“Yes?” Arthur repeated once more.
+
+“Well?” said Julia sharply, closing her fan with a snap and laying it
+across her knee. “Are you going to have the goodness to say anything but
+'Yes,' Arthur?”
+
+“You will do as you think best, of course,” he answered slowly, without
+moving. “It doesn't matter much either way.”
+
+“Doesn't--matter?” James repeated, aghast; and his wife rose with a
+laugh.
+
+“Oh, it doesn't matter, doesn't it? Well, James, I hope you understand
+now how much gratitude you may expect in that quarter. I told you what
+would come of showing charity to Papist adventuresses and their----”
+
+“Hush, hush! Never mind that, my dear!”
+
+“It's all nonsense, James; we've had more than enough of this
+sentimentality! A love-child setting himself up as a member of the
+family--it's quite time he did know what his mother was! Why should
+we be saddled with the child of a Popish priest's amourettes? There,
+then--look!”
+
+She pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of her pocket and tossed
+it across the table to Arthur. He opened it; the writing was in his
+mother's hand, and was dated four months before his birth. It was a
+confession, addressed to her husband, and with two signatures.
+
+Arthur's eyes travelled slowly down the page, past the unsteady letters
+in which her name was written, to the strong, familiar signature:
+“Lorenzo Montanelli.” For a moment he stared at the writing; then,
+without a word, refolded the paper and laid it down. James rose and took
+his wife by the arm.
+
+“There, Julia, that will do. Just go downstairs now; it's late, and I
+want to talk a little business with Arthur. It won't interest you.”
+
+She glanced up at her husband; then back at Arthur, who was silently
+staring at the floor.
+
+“He seems half stupid,” she whispered.
+
+When she had gathered up her train and left the room, James carefully
+shut the door and went back to his chair beside the table. Arthur sat as
+before, perfectly motionless and silent.
+
+“Arthur,” James began in a milder tone, now Julia was not there to hear,
+“I am very sorry that this has come out. You might just as well not have
+known it. However, all that's over; and I am pleased to see that you
+can behave with such self-control. Julia is a--a little excited; ladies
+often--anyhow, I don't want to be too hard on you.”
+
+He stopped to see what effect the kindly words had produced; but Arthur
+was quite motionless.
+
+“Of course, my dear boy,” James went on after a moment, “this is a
+distressing story altogether, and the best thing we can do is to hold
+our tongues about it. My father was generous enough not to divorce your
+mother when she confessed her fall to him; he only demanded that the
+man who had led her astray should leave the country at once; and, as
+you know, he went to China as a missionary. For my part, I was very much
+against your having anything to do with him when he came back; but my
+father, just at the last, consented to let him teach you, on condition
+that he never attempted to see your mother. I must, in justice,
+acknowledge that I believe they both observed that condition faithfully
+to the end. It is a very deplorable business; but----”
+
+Arthur looked up. All the life and expression had gone out of his face;
+it was like a waxen mask.
+
+“D-don't you think,” he said softly, with a curious stammering
+hesitation on the words, “th-that--all this--is--v-very--funny?”
+
+“FUNNY?” James pushed his chair away from the table, and sat staring at
+him, too much petrified for anger. “Funny! Arthur, are you mad?”
+
+Arthur suddenly threw back his head, and burst into a frantic fit of
+laughing.
+
+“Arthur!” exclaimed the shipowner, rising with dignity, “I am amazed at
+your levity!”
+
+There was no answer but peal after peal of laughter, so loud and
+boisterous that even James began to doubt whether there was not
+something more the matter here than levity.
+
+“Just like a hysterical woman,” he muttered, turning, with a
+contemptuous shrug of his shoulders, to tramp impatiently up and
+down the room. “Really, Arthur, you're worse than Julia; there, stop
+laughing! I can't wait about here all night.”
+
+He might as well have asked the crucifix to come down from its pedestal.
+Arthur was past caring for remonstrances or exhortations; he only
+laughed, and laughed, and laughed without end.
+
+“This is absurd!” said James, stopping at last in his irritated pacing
+to and fro. “You are evidently too much excited to be reasonable
+to-night. I can't talk business with you if you're going on that way.
+Come to me to-morrow morning after breakfast. And now you had better go
+to bed. Good-night.”
+
+He went out, slamming the door. “Now for the hysterics downstairs,” he
+muttered as he tramped noisily away. “I suppose it'll be tears there!”
+
+    *****
+
+The frenzied laughter died on Arthur's lips. He snatched up the hammer
+from the table and flung himself upon the crucifix.
+
+With the crash that followed he came suddenly to his senses, standing
+before the empty pedestal, the hammer still in his hand, and the
+fragments of the broken image scattered on the floor about his feet.
+
+He threw down the hammer. “So easy!” he said, and turned away. “And what
+an idiot I am!”
+
+He sat down by the table, panting heavily for breath, and rested his
+forehead on both hands. Presently he rose, and, going to the wash-stand,
+poured a jugful of cold water over his head and face. He came back quite
+composed, and sat down to think.
+
+And it was for such things as these--for these false and slavish people,
+these dumb and soulless gods--that he had suffered all these tortures
+of shame and passion and despair; had made a rope to hang himself,
+forsooth, because one priest was a liar. As if they were not all liars!
+Well, all that was done with; he was wiser now. He need only shake off
+these vermin and begin life afresh.
+
+There were plenty of goods vessels in the docks; it would be an easy
+matter to stow himself away in one of them, and get across to Canada,
+Australia, Cape Colony--anywhere. It was no matter for the country, if
+only it was far enough; and, as for the life out there, he could see,
+and if it did not suit him he could try some other place.
+
+He took out his purse. Only thirty-three paoli; but his watch was a
+good one. That would help him along a bit; and in any case it was of no
+consequence--he should pull through somehow. But they would search
+for him, all these people; they would be sure to make inquiries at the
+docks. No; he must put them on a false scent--make them believe him
+dead; then he should be quite free--quite free. He laughed softly to
+himself at the thought of the Burtons searching for his corpse. What a
+farce the whole thing was!
+
+Taking a sheet of paper, he wrote the first words that occurred to him:
+
+
+“I believed in you as I believed in God. God is a thing made of clay,
+that I can smash with a hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie.”
+
+
+He folded up the paper, directed it to Montanelli, and, taking another
+sheet, wrote across it: “Look for my body in Darsena.” Then he put on
+his hat and went out of the room. Passing his mother's portrait, he
+looked up with a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders. She, too, had lied
+to him.
+
+He crept softly along the corridor, and, slipping back the door-bolts,
+went out on to the great, dark, echoing marble staircase. It seemed to
+yawn beneath him like a black pit as he descended.
+
+He crossed the courtyard, treading cautiously for fear of waking Gian
+Battista, who slept on the ground floor. In the wood-cellar at the back
+was a little grated window, opening on the canal and not more than four
+feet from the ground. He remembered that the rusty grating had broken
+away on one side; by pushing a little he could make an aperture wide
+enough to climb out by.
+
+The grating was strong, and he grazed his hands badly and tore the
+sleeve of his coat; but that was no matter. He looked up and down the
+street; there was no one in sight, and the canal lay black and silent,
+an ugly trench between two straight and slimy walls. The untried
+universe might prove a dismal hole, but it could hardly be more flat
+and sordid than the corner which he was leaving behind him. There was
+nothing to regret; nothing to look back upon. It had been a pestilent
+little stagnant world, full of squalid lies and clumsy cheats and
+foul-smelling ditches that were not even deep enough to drown a man.
+
+He walked along the canal bank, and came out upon the tiny square by the
+Medici palace. It was here that Gemma had run up to him with her vivid
+face, her outstretched hands. Here was the little flight of wet stone
+steps leading down to the moat; and there the fortress scowling across
+the strip of dirty water. He had never noticed before how squat and mean
+it looked.
+
+Passing through the narrow streets he reached the Darsena
+shipping-basin, where he took off his hat and flung it into the water.
+It would be found, of course, when they dragged for his body. Then he
+walked on along the water's edge, considering perplexedly what to do
+next. He must contrive to hide on some ship; but it was a difficult
+thing to do. His only chance would be to get on to the huge old
+Medici breakwater and walk along to the further end of it. There was a
+low-class tavern on the point; probably he should find some sailor there
+who could be bribed.
+
+But the dock gates were closed. How should he get past them, and past
+the customs officials? His stock of money would not furnish the high
+bribe that they would demand for letting him through at night and
+without a passport. Besides they might recognize him.
+
+As he passed the bronze statue of the “Four Moors,” a man's figure
+emerged from an old house on the opposite side of the shipping basin
+and approached the bridge. Arthur slipped at once into the deep shadow
+behind the group of statuary and crouched down in the darkness, peeping
+cautiously round the corner of the pedestal.
+
+It was a soft spring night, warm and starlit. The water lapped against
+the stone walls of the basin and swirled in gentle eddies round the
+steps with a sound as of low laughter. Somewhere near a chain creaked,
+swinging slowly to and fro. A huge iron crane towered up, tall and
+melancholy in the dimness. Black on a shimmering expanse of starry sky
+and pearly cloud-wreaths, the figures of the fettered, struggling slaves
+stood out in vain and vehement protest against a merciless doom.
+
+The man approached unsteadily along the water side, shouting an English
+street song. He was evidently a sailor returning from a carouse at some
+tavern. No one else was within sight. As he drew near, Arthur stood up
+and stepped into the middle of the roadway. The sailor broke off in his
+song with an oath, and stopped short.
+
+“I want to speak to you,” Arthur said in Italian. “Do you understand
+me?”
+
+The man shook his head. “It's no use talking that patter to me,” he
+said; then, plunging into bad French, asked sullenly: “What do you want?
+Why can't you let me pass?”
+
+“Just come out of the light here a minute; I want to speak to you.”
+
+“Ah! wouldn't you like it? Out of the light! Got a knife anywhere about
+you?”
+
+“No, no, man! Can't you see I only want your help? I'll pay you for it?”
+
+“Eh? What? And dressed like a swell, too------” The sailor had relapsed
+into English. He now moved into the shadow and leaned against the
+railing of the pedestal.
+
+“Well,” he said, returning to his atrocious French; “and what is it you
+want?”
+
+“I want to get away from here----”
+
+“Aha! Stowaway! Want me to hide you? Been up to something, I suppose.
+Stuck a knife into somebody, eh? Just like these foreigners! And where
+might you be wanting to go? Not to the police station, I fancy?”
+
+He laughed in his tipsy way, and winked one eye.
+
+“What vessel do you belong to?”
+
+“Carlotta--Leghorn to Buenos Ayres; shipping oil one way and hides
+the other. She's over there”--pointing in the direction of the
+breakwater--“beastly old hulk!”
+
+“Buenos Ayres--yes! Can you hide me anywhere on board?”
+
+“How much can you give?”
+
+“Not very much; I have only a few paoli.”
+
+“No. Can't do it under fifty--and cheap at that, too--a swell like you.”
+
+“What do you mean by a swell? If you like my clothes you may change with
+me, but I can't give you more money than I have got.”
+
+“You have a watch there. Hand it over.”
+
+Arthur took out a lady's gold watch, delicately chased and enamelled,
+with the initials “G. B.” on the back. It had been his mother's--but
+what did that matter now?
+
+“Ah!” remarked the sailor with a quick glance at it. “Stolen, of course!
+Let me look!”
+
+Arthur drew his hand away. “No,” he said. “I will give you the watch
+when we are on board; not before.”
+
+“You're not such a fool as you look, after all! I'll bet it's your first
+scrape, though, eh?”
+
+“That is my business. Ah! there comes the watchman.”
+
+They crouched down behind the group of statuary and waited till the
+watchman had passed. Then the sailor rose, and, telling Arthur to
+follow him, walked on, laughing foolishly to himself. Arthur followed in
+silence.
+
+The sailor led him back to the little irregular square by the Medici
+palace; and, stopping in a dark corner, mumbled in what was intended for
+a cautious whisper:
+
+“Wait here; those soldier fellows will see you if you come further.”
+
+“What are you going to do?”
+
+“Get you some clothes. I'm not going to take you on board with that
+bloody coatsleeve.”
+
+Arthur glanced down at the sleeve which had been torn by the window
+grating. A little blood from the grazed hand had fallen upon it.
+Evidently the man thought him a murderer. Well, it was of no consequence
+what people thought.
+
+After some time the sailor came back, triumphant, with a bundle under
+his arm.
+
+“Change,” he whispered; “and make haste about it. I must get back, and
+that old Jew has kept me bargaining and haggling for half an hour.”
+
+Arthur obeyed, shrinking with instinctive disgust at the first touch of
+second-hand clothes. Fortunately these, though rough and coarse, were
+fairly clean. When he stepped into the light in his new attire, the
+sailor looked at him with tipsy solemnity and gravely nodded his
+approval.
+
+“You'll do,” he said. “This way, and don't make a noise.” Arthur,
+carrying his discarded clothes, followed him through a labyrinth of
+winding canals and dark narrow alleys; the mediaeval slum quarter which
+the people of Leghorn call “New Venice.” Here and there a gloomy old
+palace, solitary among the squalid houses and filthy courts, stood
+between two noisome ditches, with a forlorn air of trying to preserve
+its ancient dignity and yet of knowing the effort to be a hopeless
+one. Some of the alleys, he knew, were notorious dens of thieves,
+cut-throats, and smugglers; others were merely wretched and
+poverty-stricken.
+
+Beside one of the little bridges the sailor stopped, and, looking round
+to see that they were not observed, descended a flight of stone steps
+to a narrow landing stage. Under the bridge was a dirty, crazy old boat.
+Sharply ordering Arthur to jump in and lie down, he seated himself in
+the boat and began rowing towards the harbour's mouth. Arthur lay still
+on the wet and leaky planks, hidden by the clothes which the man had
+thrown over him, and peeping out from under them at the familiar streets
+and houses.
+
+Presently they passed under a bridge and entered that part of the canal
+which forms a moat for the fortress. The massive walls rose out of the
+water, broad at the base and narrowing upward to the frowning turrets.
+How strong, how threatening they had seemed to him a few hours ago! And
+now----
+
+He laughed softly as he lay in the bottom of the boat.
+
+“Hold your noise,” the sailor whispered, “and keep your head covered!
+We're close to the custom house.”
+
+Arthur drew the clothes over his head. A few yards further on the boat
+stopped before a row of masts chained together, which lay across the
+surface of the canal, blocking the narrow waterway between the custom
+house and the fortress wall. A sleepy official came out yawning and bent
+over the water's edge with a lantern in his hand.
+
+“Passports, please.”
+
+The sailor handed up his official papers. Arthur, half stifled under the
+clothes, held his breath, listening.
+
+“A nice time of night to come back to your ship!” grumbled the customs
+official. “Been out on the spree, I suppose. What's in your boat?”
+
+“Old clothes. Got them cheap.” He held up the waistcoat for inspection.
+The official, lowering his lantern, bent over, straining his eyes to
+see.
+
+“It's all right, I suppose. You can pass.”
+
+He lifted the barrier and the boat moved slowly out into the dark,
+heaving water. At a little distance Arthur sat up and threw off the
+clothes.
+
+“Here she is,” the sailor whispered, after rowing for some time in
+silence. “Keep close behind me and hold your tongue.”
+
+He clambered up the side of a huge black monster, swearing under his
+breath at the clumsiness of the landsman, though Arthur's natural
+agility rendered him less awkward than most people would have been in
+his place. Once safely on board, they crept cautiously between dark
+masses of rigging and machinery, and came at last to a hatchway, which
+the sailor softly raised.
+
+“Down here!” he whispered. “I'll be back in a minute.”
+
+The hold was not only damp and dark, but intolerably foul. At first
+Arthur instinctively drew back, half choked by the stench of raw hides
+and rancid oil. Then he remembered the “punishment cell,” and descended
+the ladder, shrugging his shoulders. Life is pretty much the same
+everywhere, it seemed; ugly, putrid, infested with vermin, full of
+shameful secrets and dark corners. Still, life is life, and he must make
+the best of it.
+
+In a few minutes the sailor came back with something in his hands which
+Arthur could not distinctly see for the darkness.
+
+“Now, give me the watch and money. Make haste!”
+
+Taking advantage of the darkness, Arthur succeeded in keeping back a few
+coins.
+
+“You must get me something to eat,” he said; “I am half starved.”
+
+“I've brought it. Here you are.” The sailor handed him a pitcher, some
+hard biscuit, and a piece of salt pork. “Now mind, you must hide in this
+empty barrel, here, when the customs officers come to examine to-morrow
+morning. Keep as still as a mouse till we're right out at sea. I'll let
+you know when to come out. And won't you just catch it when the captain
+sees you--that's all! Got the drink safe? Good-night!”
+
+The hatchway closed, and Arthur, setting the precious “drink” in a safe
+place, climbed on to an oil barrel to eat his pork and biscuit. Then he
+curled himself up on the dirty floor; and, for the first time since his
+babyhood, settled himself to sleep without a prayer. The rats scurried
+round him in the darkness; but neither their persistent noise nor the
+swaying of the ship, nor the nauseating stench of oil, nor the prospect
+of to-morrow's sea-sickness, could keep him awake. He cared no more for
+them all than for the broken and dishonoured idols that only yesterday
+had been the gods of his adoration.
+
+
+
+
+
+PART II.
+
+
+THIRTEEN YEARS LATER.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ONE evening in July, 1846, a few acquaintances met at Professor
+Fabrizi's house in Florence to discuss plans for future political work.
+
+Several of them belonged to the Mazzinian party and would have been
+satisfied with nothing less than a democratic Republic and a United
+Italy. Others were Constitutional Monarchists and Liberals of
+various shades. On one point, however, they were all agreed; that of
+dissatisfaction with the Tuscan censorship; and the popular professor
+had called the meeting in the hope that, on this one subject at least,
+the representatives of the dissentient parties would be able to get
+through an hour's discussion without quarrelling.
+
+Only a fortnight had elapsed since the famous amnesty which Pius IX. had
+granted, on his accession, to political offenders in the Papal States;
+but the wave of liberal enthusiasm caused by it was already spreading
+over Italy. In Tuscany even the government appeared to have been
+affected by the astounding event. It had occurred to Fabrizi and a few
+other leading Florentines that this was a propitious moment for a bold
+effort to reform the press-laws.
+
+“Of course,” the dramatist Lega had said, when the subject was first
+broached to him; “it would be impossible to start a newspaper till we
+can get the press-law changed; we should not bring out the first number.
+But we may be able to run some pamphlets through the censorship already;
+and the sooner we begin the sooner we shall get the law changed.”
+
+He was now explaining in Fabrizi's library his theory of the line which
+should be taken by liberal writers at the moment.
+
+“There is no doubt,” interposed one of the company, a gray-haired
+barrister with a rather drawling manner of speech, “that in some way we
+must take advantage of the moment. We shall not see such a favourable
+one again for bringing forward serious reforms. But I doubt the
+pamphlets doing any good. They will only irritate and frighten the
+government instead of winning it over to our side, which is what we
+really want to do. If once the authorities begin to think of us as
+dangerous agitators our chance of getting their help is gone.”
+
+“Then what would you have us do?”
+
+“Petition.”
+
+“To the Grand Duke?”
+
+“Yes; for an augmentation of the liberty of the press.”
+
+A keen-looking, dark man sitting by the window turned his head round
+with a laugh.
+
+“You'll get a lot out of petitioning!” he said. “I should have thought
+the result of the Renzi case was enough to cure anybody of going to work
+that way.”
+
+“My dear sir, I am as much grieved as you are that we did not succeed in
+preventing the extradition of Renzi. But really--I do not wish to hurt
+the sensibilities of anyone, but I cannot help thinking that our failure
+in that case was largely due to the impatience and vehemence of some
+persons among our number. I should certainly hesitate----”
+
+“As every Piedmontese always does,” the dark man interrupted sharply. “I
+don't know where the vehemence and impatience lay, unless you found them
+in the strings of meek petitions we sent in. That may be vehemence for
+Tuscany or Piedmont, but we should not call it particularly vehement in
+Naples.”
+
+“Fortunately,” remarked the Piedmontese, “Neapolitan vehemence is
+peculiar to Naples.”
+
+“There, there, gentlemen, that will do!” the professor put in.
+“Neapolitan customs are very good things in their way and Piedmontese
+customs in theirs; but just now we are in Tuscany, and the Tuscan custom
+is to stick to the matter in hand. Grassini votes for petitions and
+Galli against them. What do you think, Dr. Riccardo?”
+
+“I see no harm in petitions, and if Grassini gets one up I'll sign it
+with all the pleasure in life. But I don't think mere petitioning and
+nothing else will accomplish much. Why can't we have both petitions and
+pamphlets?”
+
+“Simply because the pamphlets will put the government into a state of
+mind in which it won't grant the petitions,” said Grassini.
+
+“It won't do that anyhow.” The Neapolitan rose and came across to the
+table. “Gentlemen, you're on the wrong tack. Conciliating the government
+will do no good. What we must do is to rouse the people.”
+
+“That's easier said than done; how are you going to start?”
+
+“Fancy asking Galli that! Of course he'd start by knocking the censor on
+the head.”
+
+“No, indeed, I shouldn't,” said Galli stoutly. “You always think if
+a man comes from down south he must believe in no argument but cold
+steel.”
+
+“Well, what do you propose, then? Sh! Attention, gentlemen! Galli has a
+proposal to make.”
+
+The whole company, which had broken up into little knots of twos and
+threes, carrying on separate discussions, collected round the table to
+listen. Galli raised his hands in expostulation.
+
+“No, gentlemen, it is not a proposal; it is merely a suggestion.
+It appears to me that there is a great practical danger in all this
+rejoicing over the new Pope. People seem to think that, because he has
+struck out a new line and granted this amnesty, we have only to throw
+ourselves--all of us, the whole of Italy--into his arms and he will
+carry us to the promised land. Now, I am second to no one in admiration
+of the Pope's behaviour; the amnesty was a splendid action.”
+
+“I am sure His Holiness ought to feel flattered----” Grassini began
+contemptuously.
+
+“There, Grassini, do let the man speak!” Riccardo interrupted in his
+turn. “It's a most extraordinary thing that you two never can keep from
+sparring like a cat and dog. Get on, Galli!”
+
+“What I wanted to say is this,” continued the Neapolitan. “The Holy
+Father, undoubtedly, is acting with the best intentions; but how far he
+will succeed in carrying his reforms is another question. Just now it's
+smooth enough and, of course, the reactionists all over Italy will lie
+quiet for a month or two till the excitement about the amnesty blows
+over; but they are not likely to let the power be taken out of their
+hands without a fight, and my own belief is that before the winter is
+half over we shall have Jesuits and Gregorians and Sanfedists and
+all the rest of the crew about our ears, plotting and intriguing, and
+poisoning off everybody they can't bribe.”
+
+“That's likely enough.”
+
+“Very well, then; shall we wait here, meekly sending in petitions, till
+Lambruschini and his pack have persuaded the Grand Duke to put us bodily
+under Jesuit rule, with perhaps a few Austrian hussars to patrol the
+streets and keep us in order; or shall we forestall them and take
+advantage of their momentary discomfiture to strike the first blow?”
+
+“Tell us first what blow you propose?”
+
+“I would suggest that we start an organized propaganda and agitation
+against the Jesuits.”
+
+“A pamphleteering declaration of war, in fact?”
+
+“Yes; exposing their intrigues, ferreting out their secrets, and calling
+upon the people to make common cause against them.”
+
+“But there are no Jesuits here to expose.”
+
+“Aren't there? Wait three months and see how many we shall have. It'll
+be too late to keep them out then.”
+
+“But really to rouse the town against the Jesuits one must speak
+plainly; and if you do that how will you evade the censorship?”
+
+“I wouldn't evade it; I would defy it.”
+
+“You would print the pamphlets anonymously? That's all very well,
+but the fact is, we have all seen enough of the clandestine press to
+know----”
+
+“I did not mean that. I would print the pamphlets openly, with our names
+and addresses, and let them prosecute us if they dare.”
+
+“The project is a perfectly mad one,” Grassini exclaimed. “It is simply
+putting one's head into the lion's mouth out of sheer wantonness.”
+
+“Oh, you needn't be afraid!” Galli cut in sharply; “we shouldn't ask you
+to go to prison for our pamphlets.”
+
+“Hold your tongue, Galli!” said Riccardo. “It's not a question of being
+afraid; we're all as ready as you are to go to prison if there's any
+good to be got by it, but it is childish to run into danger for nothing.
+For my part, I have an amendment to the proposal to suggest.”
+
+“Well, what is it?”
+
+“I think we might contrive, with care, to fight the Jesuits without
+coming into collision with the censorship.”
+
+“I don't see how you are going to manage it.”
+
+“I think that it is possible to clothe what one has to say in so
+roundabout a form that----”
+
+“That the censorship won't understand it? And then you'll expect every
+poor artisan and labourer to find out the meaning by the light of
+the ignorance and stupidity that are in him! That doesn't sound very
+practicable.”
+
+“Martini, what do you think?” asked the professor, turning to a
+broad-shouldered man with a great brown beard, who was sitting beside
+him.
+
+“I think that I will reserve my opinion till I have more facts to go
+upon. It's a question of trying experiments and seeing what comes of
+them.”
+
+“And you, Sacconi?”
+
+“I should like to hear what Signora Bolla has to say. Her suggestions
+are always valuable.”
+
+Everyone turned to the only woman in the room, who had been sitting on
+the sofa, resting her chin on one hand and listening in silence to the
+discussion. She had deep, serious black eyes, but as she raised them now
+there was an unmistakable gleam of amusement in them.
+
+“I am afraid,” she said; “that I disagree with everybody.”
+
+“You always do, and the worst of it is that you are always right,”
+ Riccardo put in.
+
+“I think it is quite true that we must fight the Jesuits somehow; and if
+we can't do it with one weapon we must with another. But mere defiance
+is a feeble weapon and evasion a cumbersome one. As for petitioning,
+that is a child's toy.”
+
+“I hope, signora,” Grassini interposed, with a solemn face; “that you
+are not suggesting such methods as--assassination?”
+
+Martini tugged at his big moustache and Galli sniggered outright. Even
+the grave young woman could not repress a smile.
+
+“Believe me,” she said, “that if I were ferocious enough to think of
+such things I should not be childish enough to talk about them. But
+the deadliest weapon I know is ridicule. If you can once succeed in
+rendering the Jesuits ludicrous, in making people laugh at them and
+their claims, you have conquered them without bloodshed.”
+
+“I believe you are right, as far as that goes,” Fabrizi said; “but I
+don't see how you are going to carry the thing through.”
+
+“Why should we not be able to carry it through?” asked Martini. “A
+satirical thing has a better chance of getting over the censorship
+difficulty than a serious one; and, if it must be cloaked, the average
+reader is more likely to find out the double meaning of an apparently
+silly joke than of a scientific or economic treatise.”
+
+“Then is your suggestion, signora, that we should issue satirical
+pamphlets, or attempt to run a comic paper? That last, I am sure, the
+censorship would never allow.”
+
+“I don't mean exactly either. I believe a series of small satirical
+leaflets, in verse or prose, to be sold cheap or distributed free about
+the streets, would be very useful. If we could find a clever artist
+who would enter into the spirit of the thing, we might have them
+illustrated.”
+
+“It's a capital idea, if only one could carry it out; but if the thing
+is to be done at all it must be well done. We should want a first-class
+satirist; and where are we to get him?”
+
+“You see,” added Lega, “most of us are serious writers; and, with
+all respect to the company, I am afraid that a general attempt to be
+humorous would present the spectacle of an elephant trying to dance the
+tarantella.”
+
+“I never suggested that we should all rush into work for which we
+are unfitted. My idea was that we should try to find a really gifted
+satirist--there must be one to be got somewhere in Italy, surely--and
+offer to provide the necessary funds. Of course we should have to know
+something of the man and make sure that he would work on lines with
+which we could agree.”
+
+“But where are you going to find him? I can count up the satirists
+of any real talent on the fingers of one hand; and none of them are
+available. Giusti wouldn't accept; he is fully occupied as it is. There
+are one or two good men in Lombardy, but they write only in the Milanese
+dialect----”
+
+“And moreover,” said Grassini, “the Tuscan people can be influenced in
+better ways than this. I am sure that it would be felt as, to say the
+least, a want of political savoir faire if we were to treat this solemn
+question of civil and religious liberty as a subject for trifling.
+Florence is not a mere wilderness of factories and money-getting like
+London, nor a haunt of idle luxury like Paris. It is a city with a great
+history------”
+
+“So was Athens,” she interrupted, smiling; “but it was 'rather sluggish
+from its size and needed a gadfly to rouse it'----”
+
+Riccardo struck his hand upon the table. “Why, we never thought of the
+Gadfly! The very man!”
+
+“Who is that?”
+
+“The Gadfly--Felice Rivarez. Don't you remember him? One of Muratori's
+band that came down from the Apennines three years ago?”
+
+“Oh, you knew that set, didn't you? I remember your travelling with them
+when they went on to Paris.”
+
+“Yes; I went as far as Leghorn to see Rivarez off for Marseilles. He
+wouldn't stop in Tuscany; he said there was nothing left to do but
+laugh, once the insurrection had failed, and so he had better go to
+Paris. No doubt he agreed with Signor Grassini that Tuscany is the wrong
+place to laugh in. But I am nearly sure he would come back if we asked
+him, now that there is a chance of doing something in Italy.”
+
+“What name did you say?”
+
+“Rivarez. He's a Brazilian, I think. At any rate, I know he has lived
+out there. He is one of the wittiest men I ever came across. Heaven
+knows we had nothing to be merry over, that week in Leghorn; it was
+enough to break one's heart to look at poor Lambertini; but there was
+no keeping one's countenance when Rivarez was in the room; it was one
+perpetual fire of absurdities. He had a nasty sabre-cut across the face,
+too; I remember sewing it up. He's an odd creature; but I believe he
+and his nonsense kept some of those poor lads from breaking down
+altogether.”
+
+“Is that the man who writes political skits in the French papers under
+the name of 'Le Taon'?”
+
+“Yes; short paragraphs mostly, and comic feuilletons. The smugglers up
+in the Apennines called him 'the Gadfly' because of his tongue; and he
+took the nickname to sign his work with.”
+
+“I know something about this gentleman,” said Grassini, breaking in upon
+the conversation in his slow and stately manner; “and I cannot say that
+what I have heard is much to his credit. He undoubtedly possesses a
+certain showy, superficial cleverness, though I think his abilities have
+been exaggerated; and possibly he is not lacking in physical courage;
+but his reputation in Paris and Vienna is, I believe, very far from
+spotless. He appears to be a gentleman of--a--a--many adventures and
+unknown antecedents. It is said that he was picked up out of charity by
+Duprez's expedition somewhere in the wilds of tropical South America,
+in a state of inconceivable savagery and degradation. I believe he has
+never satisfactorily explained how he came to be in such a condition. As
+for the rising in the Apennines, I fear it is no secret that persons of
+all characters took part in that unfortunate affair. The men who were
+executed in Bologna are known to have been nothing but common
+malefactors; and the character of many who escaped will hardly bear
+description. Without doubt, SOME of the participators were men of high
+character----”
+
+“Some of them were the intimate friends of several persons in this
+room!” Riccardo interrupted, with an angry ring in his voice. “It's all
+very well to be particular and exclusive, Grassini; but these 'common
+malefactors' died for their belief, which is more than you or I have
+done as yet.”
+
+“And another time when people tell you the stale gossip of Paris,”
+ added Galli, “you can tell them from me that they are mistaken about
+the Duprez expedition. I know Duprez's adjutant, Martel, personally, and
+have heard the whole story from him. It's true that they found Rivarez
+stranded out there. He had been taken prisoner in the war, fighting
+for the Argentine Republic, and had escaped. He was wandering about the
+country in various disguises, trying to get back to Buenos Ayres. But
+the story of their taking him on out of charity is a pure fabrication.
+Their interpreter had fallen ill and been obliged to turn back; and not
+one of the Frenchmen could speak the native languages; so they offered
+him the post, and he spent the whole three years with them, exploring
+the tributaries of the Amazon. Martel told me he believed they never
+would have got through the expedition at all if it had not been for
+Rivarez.”
+
+“Whatever he may be,” said Fabrizi; “there must be something remarkable
+about a man who could lay his 'come hither' on two old campaigners like
+Martel and Duprez as he seems to have done. What do you think, signora?”
+
+“I know nothing about the matter; I was in England when the fugitives
+passed through Tuscany. But I should think that if the companions who
+were with a man on a three years' expedition in savage countries, and
+the comrades who were with him through an insurrection, think well of
+him, that is recommendation enough to counterbalance a good deal of
+boulevard gossip.”
+
+“There is no question about the opinion his comrades had of him,”
+ said Riccardo. “From Muratori and Zambeccari down to the roughest
+mountaineers they were all devoted to him. Moreover, he is a personal
+friend of Orsini. It's quite true, on the other hand, that there are
+endless cock-and-bull stories of a not very pleasant kind going about
+concerning him in Paris; but if a man doesn't want to make enemies he
+shouldn't become a political satirist.”
+
+“I'm not quite sure,” interposed Lega; “but it seems to me that I
+saw him once when the refugees were here. Was he not hunchbacked, or
+crooked, or something of that kind?”
+
+The professor had opened a drawer in his writing-table and was turning
+over a heap of papers. “I think I have his police description somewhere
+here,” he said. “You remember when they escaped and hid in the mountain
+passes their personal appearance was posted up everywhere, and that
+Cardinal--what's the scoundrel's name?--Spinola, offered a reward for
+their heads.”
+
+“There was a splendid story about Rivarez and that police paper, by the
+way. He put on a soldier's old uniform and tramped across country as a
+carabineer wounded in the discharge of his duty and trying to find his
+company. He actually got Spinola's search-party to give him a lift,
+and rode the whole day in one of their waggons, telling them harrowing
+stories of how he had been taken captive by the rebels and dragged off
+into their haunts in the mountains, and of the fearful tortures that he
+had suffered at their hands. They showed him the description paper, and
+he told them all the rubbish he could think of about 'the fiend they
+call the Gadfly.' Then at night, when they were asleep, he poured a
+bucketful of water into their powder and decamped, with his pockets full
+of provisions and ammunition------”
+
+“Ah, here's the paper,” Fabrizi broke in: “'Felice Rivarez, called: The
+Gadfly. Age, about 30; birthplace and parentage, unknown, probably South
+American; profession, journalist. Short; black hair; black beard; dark
+skin; eyes, blue; forehead, broad and square; nose, mouth, chin------'
+Yes, here it is: 'Special marks: right foot lame; left arm twisted; two
+ringers missing on left hand; recent sabre-cut across face; stammers.'
+Then there's a note put: 'Very expert shot; care should be taken in
+arresting.'”
+
+“It's an extraordinary thing that he can have managed to deceive the
+search-party with such a formidable list of identification marks.”
+
+“It was nothing but sheer audacity that carried him through, of course.
+If it had once occurred to them to suspect him he would have been lost.
+But the air of confiding innocence that he can put on when he chooses
+would bring a man through anything. Well, gentlemen, what do you think
+of the proposal? Rivarez seems to be pretty well known to several of the
+company. Shall we suggest to him that we should be glad of his help here
+or not?”
+
+“I think,” said Fabrizi, “that he might be sounded upon the subject,
+just to find out whether he would be inclined to think of the plan.”
+
+“Oh, he'll be inclined, you may be sure, once it's a case of fighting
+the Jesuits; he is the most savage anti-clerical I ever met; in fact,
+he's rather rabid on the point.”
+
+“Then will you write, Riccardo?”
+
+“Certainly. Let me see, where is he now? In Switzerland, I think. He's
+the most restless being; always flitting about. But as for the pamphlet
+question----”
+
+They plunged into a long and animated discussion. When at last the
+company began to disperse Martini went up to the quiet young woman.
+
+“I will see you home, Gemma.”
+
+“Thanks; I want to have a business talk with you.”
+
+“Anything wrong with the addresses?” he asked softly.
+
+“Nothing serious; but I think it is time to make a few alterations. Two
+letters have been stopped in the post this week. They were both quite
+unimportant, and it may have been accidental; but we cannot afford to
+have any risks. If once the police have begun to suspect any of our
+addresses, they must be changed immediately.”
+
+“I will come in about that to-morrow. I am not going to talk business
+with you to-night; you look tired.”
+
+“I am not tired.”
+
+“Then you are depressed again.”
+
+“Oh, no; not particularly.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+“Is the mistress in, Katie?”
+
+“Yes, sir; she is dressing. If you'll just step into the parlour she
+will be down in a few minutes.”
+
+Katie ushered the visitor in with the cheerful friendliness of a true
+Devonshire girl. Martini was a special favourite of hers. He spoke
+English, like a foreigner, of course, but still quite respectably; and
+he never sat discussing politics at the top of his voice till one in
+the morning, when the mistress was tired, as some visitors had a way of
+doing. Moreover, he had come to Devonshire to help the mistress in her
+trouble, when her baby was dead and her husband dying there; and ever
+since that time the big, awkward, silent man had been to Katie as much
+“one of the family” as was the lazy black cat which now ensconced itself
+upon his knee. Pasht, for his part, regarded Martini as a useful piece
+of household furniture. This visitor never trod upon his tail, or
+puffed tobacco smoke into his eyes, or in any way obtruded upon his
+consciousness an aggressive biped personality. He behaved as a mere man
+should: provided a comfortable knee to lie upon and purr, and at
+table never forgot that to look on while human beings eat fish is not
+interesting for a cat. The friendship between them was of old date.
+Once, when Pasht was a kitten and his mistress too ill to think about
+him, he had come from England under Martini's care, tucked away in a
+basket. Since then, long experience had convinced him that this clumsy
+human bear was no fair-weather friend.
+
+“How snug you look, you two!” said Gemma, coming into the room. “One
+would think you had settled yourselves for the evening.”
+
+Martini carefully lifted the cat off his knee. “I came early,” he said,
+“in the hope that you will give me some tea before we start. There will
+probably be a frightful crush, and Grassini won't give us any sensible
+supper--they never do in those fashionable houses.”
+
+“Come now!” she said, laughing; “that's as bad as Galli! Poor Grassini
+has quite enough sins of his own to answer for without having his wife's
+imperfect housekeeping visited upon his head. As for the tea, it will be
+ready in a minute. Katie has been making some Devonshire cakes specially
+for you.”
+
+“Katie is a good soul, isn't she, Pasht? By the way, so are you to have
+put on that pretty dress. I was afraid you would forget.”
+
+“I promised you I would wear it, though it is rather warm for a hot
+evening like this.”
+
+“It will be much cooler up at Fiesole; and nothing else ever suits you
+so well as white cashmere. I have brought you some flowers to wear with
+it.”
+
+“Oh, those lovely cluster roses; I am so fond of them! But they had much
+better go into water. I hate to wear flowers.”
+
+“Now that's one of your superstitious fancies.”
+
+“No, it isn't; only I think they must get so bored, spending all the
+evening pinned to such a dull companion.”
+
+“I am afraid we shall all be bored to-night. The conversazione will be
+dull beyond endurance.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Partly because everything Grassini touches becomes as dull as himself.”
+
+“Now don't be spiteful. It is not fair when we are going to be a man's
+guests.”
+
+“You are always right, Madonna. Well then, it will be dull because half
+the interesting people are not coming.”
+
+“How is that?”
+
+“I don't know. Out of town, or ill, or something. Anyway, there will
+be two or three ambassadors and some learned Germans, and the usual
+nondescript crowd of tourists and Russian princes and literary club
+people, and a few French officers; nobody else that I know of--except,
+of course, the new satirist, who is to be the attraction of the
+evening.”
+
+“The new satirist? What, Rivarez? But I thought Grassini disapproved of
+him so strongly.”
+
+“Yes; but once the man is here and is sure to be talked about, of course
+Grassini wants his house to be the first place where the new lion will
+be on show. You may be sure Rivarez has heard nothing of Grassini's
+disapproval. He may have guessed it, though; he's sharp enough.”
+
+“I did not even know he had come.”
+
+“He only arrived yesterday. Here comes the tea. No, don't get up; let me
+fetch the kettle.”
+
+He was never so happy as in this little study. Gemma's friendship, her
+grave unconsciousness of the charm she exercised over him, her frank and
+simple comradeship were the brightest things for him in a life that
+was none too bright; and whenever he began to feel more than usually
+depressed he would come in here after business hours and sit with her,
+generally in silence, watching her as she bent over her needlework or
+poured out tea. She never questioned him about his troubles or expressed
+any sympathy in words; but he always went away stronger and calmer,
+feeling, as he put it to himself, that he could “trudge through another
+fortnight quite respectably.” She possessed, without knowing it, the
+rare gift of consolation; and when, two years ago, his dearest friends
+had been betrayed in Calabria and shot down like wolves, her steady
+faith had been perhaps the thing which had saved him from despair.
+
+On Sunday mornings he sometimes came in to “talk business,” that
+expression standing for anything connected with the practical work of
+the Mazzinian party, of which they both were active and devoted members.
+She was quite a different creature then; keen, cool, and logical,
+perfectly accurate and perfectly neutral. Those who saw her only at her
+political work regarded her as a trained and disciplined conspirator,
+trustworthy, courageous, in every way a valuable member of the
+party, but somehow lacking in life and individuality. “She's a born
+conspirator, worth any dozen of us; and she is nothing more,” Galli had
+said of her. The “Madonna Gemma” whom Martini knew was very difficult to
+get at.
+
+“Well, and what is your 'new satirist' like?” she asked, glancing back
+over her shoulder as she opened the sideboard. “There, Cesare, there
+are barley-sugar and candied angelica for you. I wonder, by the way, why
+revolutionary men are always so fond of sweets.”
+
+“Other men are, too, only they think it beneath their dignity to confess
+it. The new satirist? Oh, the kind of man that ordinary women will
+rave over and you will dislike. A sort of professional dealer in sharp
+speeches, that goes about the world with a lackadaisical manner and a
+handsome ballet-girl dangling on to his coat-tails.”
+
+“Do you mean that there is really a ballet-girl, or simply that you feel
+cross and want to imitate the sharp speeches?”
+
+“The Lord defend me! No; the ballet-girl is real enough and handsome
+enough, too, for those who like shrewish beauty. Personally, I don't.
+She's a Hungarian gipsy, or something of that kind, so Riccardo says;
+from some provincial theatre in Galicia. He seems to be rather a cool
+hand; he has been introducing the girl to people just as if she were his
+maiden aunt.”
+
+“Well, that's only fair if he has taken her away from her home.”
+
+“You may look at things that way, dear Madonna, but society won't. I
+think most people will very much resent being introduced to a woman whom
+they know to be his mistress.”
+
+“How can they know it unless he tells them so?”
+
+“It's plain enough; you'll see if you meet her. But I should think even
+he would not have the audacity to bring her to the Grassinis'.”
+
+“They wouldn't receive her. Signora Grassini is not the woman to do
+unconventional things of that kind. But I wanted to hear about Signor
+Rivarez as a satirist, not as a man. Fabrizi told me he had been written
+to and had consented to come and take up the campaign against the
+Jesuits; and that is the last I have heard. There has been such a rush
+of work this week.”
+
+“I don't know that I can tell you much more. There doesn't seem to have
+been any difficulty over the money question, as we feared there would
+be. He's well off, it appears, and willing to work for nothing.”
+
+“Has he a private fortune, then?” “Apparently he has; though it seems
+rather odd--you heard that night at Fabrizi's about the state the Duprez
+expedition found him in. But he has got shares in mines somewhere out in
+Brazil; and then he has been immensely successful as a feuilleton writer
+in Paris and Vienna and London. He seems to have half a dozen languages
+at his finger-tips; and there's nothing to prevent his keeping up his
+newspaper connections from here. Slanging the Jesuits won't take all his
+time.”
+
+“That's true, of course. It's time to start, Cesare. Yes, I will wear
+the roses. Wait just a minute.”
+
+She ran upstairs, and came back with the roses in the bosom of her
+dress, and a long scarf of black Spanish lace thrown over her head.
+Martini surveyed her with artistic approval.
+
+“You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like the great and wise Queen of
+Sheba.”
+
+“What an unkind speech!” she retorted, laughing; “when you know how hard
+I've been trying to mould myself into the image of the typical society
+lady! Who wants a conspirator to look like the Queen of Sheba? That's
+not the way to keep clear of spies.”
+
+“You'll never be able to personate the stupid society woman if you try
+for ever. But it doesn't matter, after all; you're too fair to look upon
+for spies to guess your opinions, even though you can't simper and hide
+behind your fan like Signora Grassini.”
+
+“Now Cesare, let that poor woman alone! There, take some more
+barley-sugar to sweeten your temper. Are you ready? Then we had better
+start.”
+
+Martini had been quite right in saying that the conversazione would be
+both crowded and dull. The literary men talked polite small-talk and
+looked hopelessly bored, while the “nondescript crowd of tourists and
+Russian princes” fluttered up and down the rooms, asking each other
+who were the various celebrities and trying to carry on intellectual
+conversation. Grassini was receiving his guests with a manner as
+carefully polished as his boots; but his cold face lighted up at the
+sight of Gemma. He did not really like her and indeed was secretly a
+little afraid of her; but he realized that without her his drawing room
+would lack a great attraction. He had risen high in his profession, and
+now that he was rich and well known his chief ambition was to make of
+his house a centre of liberal and intellectual society. He was painfully
+conscious that the insignificant, overdressed little woman whom in his
+youth he had made the mistake of marrying was not fit, with her vapid
+talk and faded prettiness, to be the mistress of a great literary salon.
+When he could prevail upon Gemma to come he always felt that the evening
+would be a success. Her quiet graciousness of manner set the guests at
+their ease, and her very presence seemed to lay the spectre of vulgarity
+which always, in his imagination, haunted the house.
+
+Signora Grassini greeted Gemma affectionately, exclaiming in a loud
+whisper: “How charming you look to-night!” and examining the
+white cashmere with viciously critical eyes. She hated her visitor
+rancourously, for the very things for which Martini loved her; for her
+quiet strength of character; for her grave, sincere directness; for the
+steady balance of her mind; for the very expression of her face.
+And when Signora Grassini hated a woman, she showed it by effusive
+tenderness. Gemma took the compliments and endearments for what they
+were worth, and troubled her head no more about them. What is called
+“going into society” was in her eyes one of the wearisome and rather
+unpleasant tasks which a conspirator who wishes not to attract the
+notice of spies must conscientiously fulfil. She classed it together
+with the laborious work of writing in cipher; and, knowing how valuable
+a practical safeguard against suspicion is the reputation of being a
+well-dressed woman, studied the fashion-plates as carefully as she did
+the keys of her ciphers.
+
+The bored and melancholy literary lions brightened up a little at the
+sound of Gemma's name; she was very popular among them; and the radical
+journalists, especially, gravitated at once to her end of the long room.
+But she was far too practised a conspirator to let them monopolize her.
+Radicals could be had any day; and now, when they came crowding round
+her, she gently sent them about their business, reminding them with a
+smile that they need not waste their time on converting her when there
+were so many tourists in need of instruction. For her part, she devoted
+herself to an English M.P. whose sympathies the republican party was
+anxious to gain; and, knowing him to be a specialist on finance, she
+first won his attention by asking his opinion on a technical
+point concerning the Austrian currency, and then deftly turned the
+conversation to the condition of the Lombardo-Venetian revenue. The
+Englishman, who had expected to be bored with small-talk, looked askance
+at her, evidently fearing that he had fallen into the clutches of a
+blue-stocking; but finding that she was both pleasant to look at and
+interesting to talk to, surrendered completely and plunged into as grave
+a discussion of Italian finance as if she had been Metternich. When
+Grassini brought up a Frenchman “who wishes to ask Signora Bolla
+something about the history of Young Italy,” the M. P. rose with
+a bewildered sense that perhaps there was more ground for Italian
+discontent than he had supposed.
+
+Later in the evening Gemma slipped out on to the terrace under the
+drawing-room windows to sit alone for a few moments among the great
+camellias and oleanders. The close air and continually shifting crowd in
+the rooms were beginning to give her a headache. At the further end of
+the terrace stood a row of palms and tree-ferns, planted in large tubs
+which were hidden by a bank of lilies and other flowering plants.
+The whole formed a complete screen, behind which was a little nook
+commanding a beautiful view out across the valley. The branches of a
+pomegranate tree, clustered with late blossoms, hung beside the narrow
+opening between the plants.
+
+In this nook Gemma took refuge, hoping that no one would guess her
+whereabouts until she had secured herself against the threatening
+headache by a little rest and silence. The night was warm and
+beautifully still; but coming out from the hot, close rooms she felt it
+cool, and drew her lace scarf about her head.
+
+Presently the sounds of voices and footsteps approaching along the
+terrace roused her from the dreamy state into which she had fallen. She
+drew back into the shadow, hoping to escape notice and get a few more
+precious minutes of silence before again having to rack her tired brain
+for conversation. To her great annoyance the footsteps paused near to
+the screen; then Signora Grassini's thin, piping little voice broke off
+for a moment in its stream of chatter.
+
+The other voice, a man's, was remarkably soft and musical; but its
+sweetness of tone was marred by a peculiar, purring drawl, perhaps mere
+affectation, more probably the result of a habitual effort to conquer
+some impediment of speech, but in any case very unpleasant.
+
+“English, did you say?” it asked. “But surely the name is quite Italian.
+What was it--Bolla?”
+
+“Yes; she is the widow of poor Giovanni Bolla, who died in England
+about four years ago,--don't you remember? Ah, I forgot--you lead such a
+wandering life; we can't expect you to know of all our unhappy country's
+martyrs--they are so many!”
+
+Signora Grassini sighed. She always talked in this style to strangers;
+the role of a patriotic mourner for the sorrows of Italy formed an
+effective combination with her boarding-school manner and pretty
+infantine pout.
+
+“Died in England!” repeated the other voice. “Was he a refugee, then?
+I seem to recognize the name, somehow; was he not connected with Young
+Italy in its early days?”
+
+“Yes; he was one of the unfortunate young men who were arrested in
+'33--you remember that sad affair? He was released in a few months;
+then, two or three years later, when there was a warrant out against him
+again, he escaped to England. The next we heard was that he was married
+there. It was a most romantic affair altogether, but poor Bolla always
+was romantic.”
+
+“And then he died in England, you say?”
+
+“Yes, of consumption; he could not stand that terrible English climate.
+And she lost her only child just before his death; it caught scarlet
+fever. Very sad, is it not? And we are all so fond of dear Gemma! She
+is a little stiff, poor thing; the English always are, you know; but I
+think her troubles have made her melancholy, and----”
+
+Gemma stood up and pushed back the boughs of the pomegranate tree. This
+retailing of her private sorrows for purposes of small-talk was almost
+unbearable to her, and there was visible annoyance in her face as she
+stepped into the light.
+
+“Ah! here she is!” exclaimed the hostess, with admirable coolness.
+“Gemma, dear, I was wondering where you could have disappeared to.
+Signor Felice Rivarez wishes to make your acquaintance.”
+
+“So it's the Gadfly,” thought Gemma, looking at him with some curiosity.
+He bowed to her decorously enough, but his eyes glanced over her
+face and figure with a look which seemed to her insolently keen and
+inquisitorial.
+
+“You have found a d-d-delightful little nook here,” he remarked, looking
+at the thick screen; “and w-w-what a charming view!”
+
+“Yes; it's a pretty corner. I came out here to get some air.”
+
+“It seems almost ungrateful to the good God to stay indoors on such a
+lovely night,” said the hostess, raising her eyes to the stars. (She had
+good eyelashes and liked to show them.) “Look, signore! Would not our
+sweet Italy be heaven on earth if only she were free? To think that she
+should be a bond-slave, with such flowers and such skies!”
+
+“And such patriotic women!” the Gadfly murmured in his soft, languid
+drawl.
+
+Gemma glanced round at him in some trepidation; his impudence was too
+glaring, surely, to deceive anyone. But she had underrated Signora
+Grassini's appetite for compliments; the poor woman cast down her lashes
+with a sigh.
+
+“Ah, signore, it is so little that a woman can do! Perhaps some day I
+may prove my right to the name of an Italian--who knows? And now I must
+go back to my social duties; the French ambassador has begged me to
+introduce his ward to all the notabilities; you must come in presently
+and see her. She is a most charming girl. Gemma, dear, I brought Signor
+Rivarez out to show him our beautiful view; I must leave him under your
+care. I know you will look after him and introduce him to everyone. Ah!
+there is that delightful Russian prince! Have you met him? They say he
+is a great favourite of the Emperor Nicholas. He is military commander
+of some Polish town with a name that nobody can pronounce. Quelle nuit
+magnifique! N'est-ce-pas, mon prince?”
+
+She fluttered away, chattering volubly to a bull-necked man with a heavy
+jaw and a coat glittering with orders; and her plaintive dirges for
+“notre malheureuse patrie,” interpolated with “charmant” and “mon
+prince,” died away along the terrace.
+
+Gemma stood quite still beside the pomegranate tree. She was sorry
+for the poor, silly little woman, and annoyed at the Gadfly's languid
+insolence. He was watching the retreating figures with an expression
+of face that angered her; it seemed ungenerous to mock at such pitiable
+creatures.
+
+“There go Italian and--Russian patriotism,” he said, turning to her with
+a smile; “arm in arm and mightily pleased with each other's company.
+Which do you prefer?”
+
+She frowned slightly and made no answer.
+
+“Of c-course,” he went on; “it's all a question of p-personal taste; but
+I think, of the two, I like the Russian variety best--it's so thorough.
+If Russia had to depend on flowers and skies for her supremacy instead
+of on powder and shot, how long do you think 'mon prince' would k-keep
+that Polish fortress?”
+
+“I think,” she answered coldly, “that we can hold our personal opinions
+without ridiculing a woman whose guests we are.”
+
+“Ah, yes! I f-forgot the obligations of hospitality here in Italy;
+they are a wonderfully hospitable people, these Italians. I'm sure the
+Austrians find them so. Won't you sit down?”
+
+He limped across the terrace to fetch a chair for her, and placed
+himself opposite to her, leaning against the balustrade. The light from
+a window was shining full on his face; and she was able to study it at
+her leisure.
+
+She was disappointed. She had expected to see a striking and powerful,
+if not pleasant face; but the most salient points of his appearance were
+a tendency to foppishness in dress and rather more than a tendency to a
+certain veiled insolence of expression and manner. For the rest, he was
+as swarthy as a mulatto, and, notwithstanding his lameness, as agile as
+a cat. His whole personality was oddly suggestive of a black jaguar.
+The forehead and left cheek were terribly disfigured by the long crooked
+scar of the old sabre-cut; and she had already noticed that, when he
+began to stammer in speaking, that side of his face was affected with a
+nervous twitch. But for these defects he would have been, in a certain
+restless and uncomfortable way, rather handsome; but it was not an
+attractive face.
+
+Presently he began again in his soft, murmuring purr (“Just the voice
+a jaguar would talk in, if it could speak and were in a good humour,”
+ Gemma said to herself with rising irritation).
+
+“I hear,” he said, “that you are interested in the radical press, and
+write for the papers.”
+
+“I write a little; I have not time to do much.”
+
+“Ah, of course! I understood from Signora Grassini that you undertake
+other important work as well.”
+
+Gemma raised her eyebrows slightly. Signora Grassini, like the silly
+little woman she was, had evidently been chattering imprudently to this
+slippery creature, whom Gemma, for her part, was beginning actually to
+dislike.
+
+“My time is a good deal taken up,” she said rather stiffly; “but Signora
+Grassini overrates the importance of my occupations. They are mostly of
+a very trivial character.”
+
+“Well, the world would be in a bad way if we ALL of us spent our time in
+chanting dirges for Italy. I should think the neighbourhood of our
+host of this evening and his wife would make anybody frivolous,
+in self-defence. Oh, yes, I know what you're going to say; you are
+perfectly right, but they are both so deliciously funny with their
+patriotism.--Are you going in already? It is so nice out here!”
+
+“I think I will go in now. Is that my scarf? Thank you.”
+
+He had picked it up, and now stood looking at her with wide eyes as blue
+and innocent as forget-me-nots in a brook.
+
+“I know you are offended with me,” he said penitently, “for fooling that
+painted-up wax doll; but what can a fellow do?”
+
+“Since you ask me, I do think it an ungenerous and--well--cowardly thing
+to hold one's intellectual inferiors up to ridicule in that way; it is
+like laughing at a cripple, or------”
+
+He caught his breath suddenly, painfully; and shrank back, glancing at
+his lame foot and mutilated hand. In another instant he recovered his
+self-possession and burst out laughing.
+
+“That's hardly a fair comparison, signora; we cripples don't flaunt our
+deformities in people's faces as she does her stupidity. At least give
+us credit for recognizing that crooked backs are no pleasanter than
+crooked ways. There is a step here; will you take my arm?”
+
+She re-entered the house in embarrassed silence; his unexpected
+sensitiveness had completely disconcerted her.
+
+Directly he opened the door of the great reception room she realized
+that something unusual had happened in her absence. Most of the
+gentlemen looked both angry and uncomfortable; the ladies, with hot
+cheeks and carefully feigned unconsciousness, were all collected at one
+end of the room; the host was fingering his eye-glasses with suppressed
+but unmistakable fury, and a little group of tourists stood in a
+corner casting amused glances at the further end of the room. Evidently
+something was going on there which appeared to them in the light of a
+joke, and to most of the guests in that of an insult. Signora Grassini
+alone did not appear to have noticed anything; she was fluttering her
+fan coquettishly and chattering to the secretary of the Dutch embassy,
+who listened with a broad grin on his face.
+
+Gemma paused an instant in the doorway, turning to see if the Gadfly,
+too, had noticed the disturbed appearance of the company. There was no
+mistaking the malicious triumph in his eyes as he glanced from the face
+of the blissfully unconscious hostess to a sofa at the end of the room.
+She understood at once; he had brought his mistress here under some
+false colour, which had deceived no one but Signora Grassini.
+
+The gipsy-girl was leaning back on the sofa, surrounded by a group
+of simpering dandies and blandly ironical cavalry officers. She was
+gorgeously dressed in amber and scarlet, with an Oriental brilliancy
+of tint and profusion of ornament as startling in a Florentine
+literary salon as if she had been some tropical bird among sparrows and
+starlings. She herself seemed to feel out of place, and looked at the
+offended ladies with a fiercely contemptuous scowl. Catching sight of
+the Gadfly as he crossed the room with Gemma, she sprang up and came
+towards him, with a voluble flood of painfully incorrect French.
+
+“M. Rivarez, I have been looking for you everywhere! Count Saltykov
+wants to know whether you can go to his villa to-morrow night. There
+will be dancing.”
+
+“I am sorry I can't go; but then I couldn't dance if I did. Signora
+Bolla, allow me to introduce to you Mme. Zita Reni.”
+
+The gipsy glanced round at Gemma with a half defiant air and bowed
+stiffly. She was certainly handsome enough, as Martini had said, with a
+vivid, animal, unintelligent beauty; and the perfect harmony and freedom
+of her movements were delightful to see; but her forehead was low and
+narrow, and the line of her delicate nostrils was unsympathetic, almost
+cruel. The sense of oppression which Gemma had felt in the Gadfly's
+society was intensified by the gypsy's presence; and when, a moment
+later, the host came up to beg Signora Bolla to help him entertain some
+tourists in the other room, she consented with an odd feeling of relief.
+
+    *****
+
+“Well, Madonna, and what do you think of the Gadfly?” Martini asked as
+they drove back to Florence late at night. “Did you ever see anything
+quite so shameless as the way he fooled that poor little Grassini
+woman?”
+
+“About the ballet-girl, you mean?”
+
+“Yes, he persuaded her the girl was going to be the lion of the season.
+Signora Grassini would do anything for a celebrity.”
+
+“I thought it an unfair and unkind thing to do; it put the Grassinis
+into a false position; and it was nothing less than cruel to the girl
+herself. I am sure she felt ill at ease.”
+
+“You had a talk with him, didn't you? What did you think of him?”
+
+“Oh, Cesare, I didn't think anything except how glad I was to see
+the last of him. I never met anyone so fearfully tiring. He gave me a
+headache in ten minutes. He is like an incarnate demon of unrest.”
+
+“I thought you wouldn't like him; and, to tell the truth, no more do I.
+The man's as slippery as an eel; I don't trust him.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE Gadfly took lodgings outside the Roman gate, near to which Zita was
+boarding. He was evidently somewhat of a sybarite; and, though nothing
+in the rooms showed any serious extravagance, there was a tendency to
+luxuriousness in trifles and to a certain fastidious daintiness in the
+arrangement of everything which surprised Galli and Riccardo. They
+had expected to find a man who had lived among the wildernesses of the
+Amazon more simple in his tastes, and wondered at his spotless ties and
+rows of boots, and at the masses of flowers which always stood upon
+his writing table. On the whole they got on very well with him. He was
+hospitable and friendly to everyone, especially to the local members
+of the Mazzinian party. To this rule Gemma, apparently, formed an
+exception; he seemed to have taken a dislike to her from the time of
+their first meeting, and in every way avoided her company. On two or
+three occasions he was actually rude to her, thus bringing upon himself
+Martini's most cordial detestation. There had been no love lost between
+the two men from the beginning; their temperaments appeared to be too
+incompatible for them to feel anything but repugnance for each other. On
+Martini's part this was fast developing into hostility.
+
+“I don't care about his not liking me,” he said one day to Gemma with
+an aggrieved air. “I don't like him, for that matter; so there's no harm
+done. But I can't stand the way he behaves to you. If it weren't for the
+scandal it would make in the party first to beg a man to come and then
+to quarrel with him, I should call him to account for it.”
+
+“Let him alone, Cesare; it isn't of any consequence, and after all, it's
+as much my fault as his.”
+
+“What is your fault?”
+
+“That he dislikes me so. I said a brutal thing to him when we first met,
+that night at the Grassinis'.”
+
+“YOU said a brutal thing? That's hard to believe, Madonna.”
+
+“It was unintentional, of course, and I was very sorry. I said something
+about people laughing at cripples, and he took it personally. It had
+never occurred to me to think of him as a cripple; he is not so badly
+deformed.”
+
+“Of course not. He has one shoulder higher than the other, and his
+left arm is pretty badly disabled, but he's neither hunchbacked nor
+clubfooted. As for his lameness, it isn't worth talking about.”
+
+“Anyway, he shivered all over and changed colour. Of course it was
+horribly tactless of me, but it's odd he should be so sensitive. I
+wonder if he has ever suffered from any cruel jokes of that kind.”
+
+“Much more likely to have perpetrated them, I should think. There's a
+sort of internal brutality about that man, under all his fine manners,
+that is perfectly sickening to me.”
+
+“Now, Cesare, that's downright unfair. I don't like him any more than
+you do, but what is the use of making him out worse than he is? His
+manner is a little affected and irritating--I expect he has been too
+much lionized--and the everlasting smart speeches are dreadfully tiring;
+but I don't believe he means any harm.”
+
+“I don't know what he means, but there's something not clean about a
+man who sneers at everything. It fairly disgusted me the other day at
+Fabrizi's debate to hear the way he cried down the reforms in Rome, just
+as if he wanted to find a foul motive for everything.”
+
+Gemma sighed. “I am afraid I agreed better with him than with you on
+that point,” she said. “All you good people are so full of the most
+delightful hopes and expectations; you are always ready to think that
+if one well-meaning middle-aged gentleman happens to get elected Pope,
+everything else will come right of itself. He has only got to throw open
+the prison doors and give his blessing to everybody all round, and we
+may expect the millennium within three months. You never seem able to
+see that he can't set things right even if he would. It's the principle
+of the thing that's wrong, not the behaviour of this man or that.”
+
+“What principle? The temporal power of the Pope?”
+
+“Why that in particular? That's merely a part of the general wrong. The
+bad principle is that any man should hold over another the power to bind
+and loose. It's a false relationship to stand in towards one's fellows.”
+
+Martini held up his hands. “That will do, Madonna,” he said, laughing.
+“I am not going to discuss with you, once you begin talking rank
+Antinomianism in that fashion. I'm sure your ancestors must have been
+English Levellers in the seventeenth century. Besides, what I came round
+about is this MS.”
+
+He pulled it out of his pocket.
+
+“Another new pamphlet?”
+
+“A stupid thing this wretched man Rivarez sent in to yesterday's
+committee. I knew we should come to loggerheads with him before long.”
+
+“What is the matter with it? Honestly, Cesare, I think you are a little
+prejudiced. Rivarez may be unpleasant, but he's not stupid.”
+
+“Oh, I don't deny that this is clever enough in its way; but you had
+better read the thing yourself.”
+
+The pamphlet was a skit on the wild enthusiasm over the new Pope with
+which Italy was still ringing. Like all the Gadfly's writing, it was
+bitter and vindictive; but, notwithstanding her irritation at the
+style, Gemma could not help recognizing in her heart the justice of the
+criticism.
+
+“I quite agree with you that it is detestably malicious,” she said,
+laying down the manuscript. “But the worst thing about it is that it's
+all true.”
+
+“Gemma!”
+
+“Yes, but it is. The man's a cold-blooded eel, if you like; but he's
+got the truth on his side. There is no use in our trying to persuade
+ourselves that this doesn't hit the mark--it does!”
+
+“Then do you suggest that we should print it?”
+
+“Ah! that's quite another matter. I certainly don't think we ought to
+print it as it stands; it would hurt and alienate everybody and do no
+good. But if he would rewrite it and cut out the personal attacks,
+I think it might be made into a really valuable piece of work. As
+political criticism it is very fine. I had no idea he could write so
+well. He says things which need saying and which none of us have had
+the courage to say. This passage, where he compares Italy to a tipsy
+man weeping with tenderness on the neck of the thief who is picking his
+pocket, is splendidly written.”
+
+“Gemma! The very worst bit in the whole thing! I hate that ill-natured
+yelping at everything and everybody!”
+
+“So do I; but that's not the point. Rivarez has a very disagreeable
+style, and as a human being he is not attractive; but when he says that
+we have made ourselves drunk with processions and embracing and shouting
+about love and reconciliation, and that the Jesuits and Sanfedists are
+the people who will profit by it all, he's right a thousand times. I
+wish I could have been at the committee yesterday. What decision did you
+finally arrive at?”
+
+“What I have come here about: to ask you to go and talk it over with him
+and persuade him to soften the thing.”
+
+“Me? But I hardly know the man; and besides that, he detests me. Why
+should I go, of all people?”
+
+“Simply because there's no one else to do it to-day. Besides, you
+are more reasonable than the rest of us, and won't get into useless
+arguments and quarrel with him, as we should.”
+
+“I shan't do that, certainly. Well, I will go if you like, though I have
+not much hope of success.”
+
+“I am sure you will be able to manage him if you try. Yes, and tell him
+that the committee all admired the thing from a literary point of view.
+That will put him into a good humour, and it's perfectly true, too.”
+
+    *****
+
+The Gadfly was sitting beside a table covered with flowers and ferns,
+staring absently at the floor, with an open letter on his knee. A shaggy
+collie dog, lying on a rug at his feet, raised its head and growled as
+Gemma knocked at the open door, and the Gadfly rose hastily and bowed
+in a stiff, ceremonious way. His face had suddenly grown hard and
+expressionless.
+
+“You are too kind,” he said in his most chilling manner. “If you had let
+me know that you wanted to speak to me I would have called on you.”
+
+Seeing that he evidently wished her at the end of the earth, Gemma
+hastened to state her business. He bowed again and placed a chair for
+her.
+
+“The committee wished me to call upon you,” she began, “because there
+has been a certain difference of opinion about your pamphlet.”
+
+“So I expected.” He smiled and sat down opposite to her, drawing a large
+vase of chrysanthemums between his face and the light.
+
+“Most of the members agreed that, however much they may admire the
+pamphlet as a literary composition, they do not think that in its
+present form it is quite suitable for publication. They fear that the
+vehemence of its tone may give offence, and alienate persons whose help
+and support are valuable to the party.”
+
+He pulled a chrysanthemum from the vase and began slowly plucking
+off one white petal after another. As her eyes happened to catch the
+movement of the slim right hand dropping the petals, one by one, an
+uncomfortable sensation came over Gemma, as though she had somewhere
+seen that gesture before.
+
+“As a literary composition,” he remarked in his soft, cold voice, “it is
+utterly worthless, and could be admired only by persons who know nothing
+about literature. As for its giving offence, that is the very thing I
+intended it to do.”
+
+“That I quite understand. The question is whether you may not succeed in
+giving offence to the wrong people.”
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and put a torn-off petal between his teeth. “I
+think you are mistaken,” he said. “The question is: For what purpose
+did your committee invite me to come here? I understood, to expose and
+ridicule the Jesuits. I fulfil my obligation to the best of my ability.”
+
+“And I can assure you that no one has any doubt as to either the ability
+or the good-will. What the committee fears is that the liberal party may
+take offence, and also that the town workmen may withdraw their
+moral support. You may have meant the pamphlet for an attack upon the
+Sanfedists: but many readers will construe it as an attack upon the
+Church and the new Pope; and this, as a matter of political tactics, the
+committee does not consider desirable.”
+
+“I begin to understand. So long as I keep to the particular set of
+clerical gentlemen with whom the party is just now on bad terms, I
+may speak sooth if the fancy takes me; but directly I touch upon the
+committee's own pet priests--'truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be
+whipped out, when the--Holy Father may stand by the fire and-----' Yes,
+the fool was right; I'd rather be any kind of a thing than a fool. Of
+course I must bow to the committee's decision, but I continue to
+think that it has pared its wit o' both sides and left--M-mon-signor
+M-m-montan-n-nelli in the middle.”
+
+“Montanelli?” Gemma repeated. “I don't understand you. Do you mean the
+Bishop of Brisighella?”
+
+“Yes; the new Pope has just created him a Cardinal, you know. I have a
+letter about him here. Would you care to hear it? The writer is a friend
+of mine on the other side of the frontier.”
+
+“The Papal frontier?”
+
+“Yes. This is what he writes----” He took up the letter which had been
+in his hand when she entered, and read aloud, suddenly beginning to
+stammer violently:
+
+“'Y-o-you will s-s-s-soon have the p-pleasure of m-m-meeting one of our
+w-w-worst enemies, C-cardinal Lorenzo M-montan-n-nelli, the B-b-bishop
+of Brisig-g-hella. He int-t----'”
+
+He broke off, paused a moment, and began again, very slowly and drawling
+insufferably, but no longer stammering:
+
+“'He intends to visit Tuscany during the coming month on a mission of
+reconciliation. He will preach first in Florence, where he will stay for
+about three weeks; then will go on to Siena and Pisa, and return to the
+Romagna by Pistoja. He ostensibly belongs to the liberal party in the
+Church, and is a personal friend of the Pope and Cardinal Feretti. Under
+Gregory he was out of favour, and was kept out of sight in a little
+hole in the Apennines. Now he has come suddenly to the front. Really,
+of course, he is as much pulled by Jesuit wires as any Sanfedist in the
+country. This mission was suggested by some of the Jesuit fathers. He is
+one of the most brilliant preachers in the Church, and as mischievous
+in his way as Lambruschini himself. His business is to keep the popular
+enthusiasm over the Pope from subsiding, and to occupy the public
+attention until the Grand Duke has signed a project which the agents of
+the Jesuits are preparing to lay before him. What this project is I have
+been unable to discover.' Then, further on, it says: 'Whether Montanelli
+understands for what purpose he is being sent to Tuscany, or whether
+the Jesuits are playing on him, I cannot make out. He is either an
+uncommonly clever knave, or the biggest ass that was ever foaled. The
+odd thing is that, so far as I can discover, he neither takes bribes nor
+keeps mistresses--the first time I ever came across such a thing.'”
+
+He laid down the letter and sat looking at her with half-shut eyes,
+waiting, apparently, for her to speak.
+
+“Are you satisfied that your informant is correct in his facts?” she
+asked after a moment.
+
+“As to the irreproachable character of Monsignor M-mon-t-tan-nelli's
+private life? No; but neither is he. As you will observe, he puts in the
+s-s-saving clause: 'So far as I c-can discover----
+
+“I was not speaking of that,” she interposed coldly, “but of the part
+about this mission.”
+
+“I can fully trust the writer. He is an old friend of mine--one of my
+comrades of '43, and he is in a position which gives him exceptional
+opportunities for finding out things of that kind.”
+
+“Some official at the Vatican,” thought Gemma quickly. “So that's the
+kind of connections you have? I guessed there was something of that
+sort.”
+
+“This letter is, of course, a private one,” the Gadfly went on; “and you
+understand that the information is to be kept strictly to the members of
+your committee.”
+
+“That hardly needs saying. Then about the pamphlet: may I tell the
+committee that you consent to make a few alterations and soften it a
+little, or that----”
+
+“Don't you think the alterations may succeed in spoiling the beauty
+of the 'literary composition,' signora, as well as in reducing the
+vehemence of the tone?”
+
+“You are asking my personal opinion. What I have come here to express is
+that of the committee as a whole.”
+
+“Does that imply that y-y-you disagree with the committee as a whole?”
+ He had put the letter into his pocket and was now leaning forward
+and looking at her with an eager, concentrated expression which quite
+changed the character of his face. “You think----”
+
+“If you care to know what I personally think--I disagree with the
+majority on both points. I do not at all admire the pamphlet from a
+literary point of view, and I do think it true as a presentation of
+facts and wise as a matter of tactics.”
+
+“That is------”
+
+“I quite agree with you that Italy is being led away by a
+will-o'-the-wisp and that all this enthusiasm and rejoicing will
+probably land her in a terrible bog; and I should be most heartily glad
+to have that openly and boldly said, even at the cost of offending or
+alienating some of our present supporters. But as a member of a body the
+large majority of which holds the opposite view, I cannot insist upon my
+personal opinion; and I certainly think that if things of that kind are
+to be said at all, they should be said temperately and quietly; not in
+the tone adopted in this pamphlet.”
+
+“Will you wait a minute while I look through the manuscript?”
+
+He took it up and glanced down the pages. A dissatisfied frown settled
+on his face.
+
+“Yes, of course, you are perfectly right. The thing's written like a
+cafe chantant skit, not a political satire. But what's a man to do? If
+I write decently the public won't understand it; they will say it's dull
+if it isn't spiteful enough.”
+
+“Don't you think spitefulness manages to be dull when we get too much of
+it?”
+
+He threw a keen, rapid glance at her, and burst out laughing.
+
+“Apparently the signora belongs to the dreadful category of people who
+are always right! Then if I yield to the temptation to be spiteful,
+I may come in time to be as dull as Signora Grassini? Heavens, what a
+fate! No, you needn't frown. I know you don't like me, and I am going to
+keep to business. What it comes to, then, is practically this: if I cut
+out the personalities and leave the essential part of the thing as
+it is, the committee will very much regret that they can't take the
+responsibility of printing it. If I cut out the political truth and
+make all the hard names apply to no one but the party's enemies, the
+committee will praise the thing up to the skies, and you and I will know
+it's not worth printing. Rather a nice point of metaphysics: Which is
+the more desirable condition, to be printed and not be worth it, or to
+be worth it and not be printed? Well, signora?”
+
+“I do not think you are tied to any such alternative. I believe that
+if you were to cut out the personalities the committee would consent to
+print the pamphlet, though the majority would, of course, not agree with
+it; and I am convinced that it would be very useful. But you would
+have to lay aside the spitefulness. If you are going to say a thing the
+substance of which is a big pill for your readers to swallow, there is
+no use in frightening them at the beginning by the form.”
+
+He sighed and shrugged his shoulders resignedly. “I submit, signora; but
+on one condition. If you rob me of my laugh now, I must have it out
+next time. When His Eminence, the irreproachable Cardinal, turns up
+in Florence, neither you nor your committee must object to my being as
+spiteful as I like. It's my due!”
+
+He spoke in his lightest, coldest manner, pulling the chrysanthemums
+out of their vase and holding them up to watch the light through the
+translucent petals. “What an unsteady hand he has,” she thought, seeing
+how the flowers shook and quivered. “Surely he doesn't drink!”
+
+“You had better discuss the matter with the other members of the
+committee,” she said, rising. “I cannot form any opinion as to what they
+will think about it.”
+
+“And you?” He had risen too, and was leaning against the table, pressing
+the flowers to his face.
+
+She hesitated. The question distressed her, bringing up old and
+miserable associations. “I--hardly know,” she said at last. “Many years
+ago I used to know something about Monsignor Montanelli. He was only
+a canon at that time, and Director of the theological seminary in
+the province where I lived as a girl. I heard a great deal about him
+from--someone who knew him very intimately; and I never heard anything
+of him that was not good. I believe that, in those days at least, he
+was really a most remarkable man. But that was long ago, and he may have
+changed. Irresponsible power corrupts so many people.”
+
+The Gadfly raised his head from the flowers, and looked at her with a
+steady face.
+
+“At any rate,” he said, “if Monsignor Montanelli is not himself a
+scoundrel, he is a tool in scoundrelly hands. It is all one to me which
+he is--and to my friends across the frontier. A stone in the path may
+have the best intentions, but it must be kicked out of the path, for all
+that. Allow me, signora!” He rang the bell, and, limping to the door,
+opened it for her to pass out.
+
+“It was very kind of you to call, signora. May I send for a vettura? No?
+Good-afternoon, then! Bianca, open the hall-door, please.”
+
+Gemma went out into the street, pondering anxiously. “My friends across
+the frontier”--who were they? And how was the stone to be kicked out of
+the path? If with satire only, why had he said it with such dangerous
+eyes?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONSIGNOR MONTANELLI arrived in Florence in the first week of October.
+His visit caused a little flutter of excitement throughout the town. He
+was a famous preacher and a representative of the reformed Papacy; and
+people looked eagerly to him for an exposition of the “new doctrine,”
+ the gospel of love and reconciliation which was to cure the sorrows of
+Italy. The nomination of Cardinal Gizzi to the Roman State Secretaryship
+in place of the universally detested Lambruschini had raised the public
+enthusiasm to its highest pitch; and Montanelli was just the man who
+could most easily sustain it. The irreproachable strictness of his life
+was a phenomenon sufficiently rare among the high dignitaries of the
+Roman Church to attract the attention of people accustomed to regard
+blackmailing, peculation, and disreputable intrigues as almost
+invariable adjuncts to the career of a prelate. Moreover, his talent as
+a preacher was really great; and with his beautiful voice and magnetic
+personality, he would in any time and place have made his mark.
+
+Grassini, as usual, strained every nerve to get the newly arrived
+celebrity to his house; but Montanelli was no easy game to catch. To
+all invitations he replied with the same courteous but positive refusal,
+saying that his health was bad and his time fully occupied, and that he
+had neither strength nor leisure for going into society.
+
+“What omnivorous creatures those Grassinis are!” Martini said
+contemptuously to Gemma as they crossed the Signoria square one bright,
+cold Sunday morning. “Did you notice the way Grassini bowed when the
+Cardinal's carriage drove up? It's all one to them who a man is, so long
+as he's talked about. I never saw such lion-hunters in my life. Only
+last August it was the Gadfly; now it's Montanelli. I hope His Eminence
+feels flattered at the attention; a precious lot of adventurers have
+shared it with him.”
+
+They had been hearing Montanelli preach in the Cathedral; and the great
+building had been so thronged with eager listeners that Martini, fearing
+a return of Gemma's troublesome headaches, had persuaded her to come
+away before the Mass was over. The sunny morning, the first after a week
+of rain, offered him an excuse for suggesting a walk among the garden
+slopes by San Niccolo.
+
+“No,” she answered; “I should like a walk if you have time; but not to
+the hills. Let us keep along the Lung'Arno; Montanelli will pass on
+his way back from church and I am like Grassini--I want to see the
+notability.”
+
+“But you have just seen him.”
+
+“Not close. There was such a crush in the Cathedral, and his back was
+turned to us when the carriage passed. If we keep near to the bridge
+we shall be sure to see him well--he is staying on the Lung'Arno, you
+know.”
+
+“But what has given you such a sudden fancy to see Montanelli? You never
+used to care about famous preachers.”
+
+“It is not famous preachers; it is the man himself; I want to see how
+much he has changed since I saw him last.”
+
+“When was that?”
+
+“Two days after Arthur's death.”
+
+Martini glanced at her anxiously. They had come out on to the Lung'Arno,
+and she was staring absently across the water, with a look on her face
+that he hated to see.
+
+“Gemma, dear,” he said after a moment; “are you going to let that
+miserable business haunt you all your life? We have all made mistakes
+when we were seventeen.”
+
+“We have not all killed our dearest friend when we were seventeen,” she
+answered wearily; and, leaning her arm on the stone balustrade of the
+bridge, looked down into the river. Martini held his tongue; he was
+almost afraid to speak to her when this mood was on her.
+
+“I never look down at water without remembering,” she said, slowly
+raising her eyes to his; then with a nervous little shiver: “Let us walk
+on a bit, Cesare; it is chilly for standing.”
+
+They crossed the bridge in silence and walked on along the river-side.
+After a few minutes she spoke again.
+
+“What a beautiful voice that man has! There is something about it that I
+have never heard in any other human voice. I believe it is the secret of
+half his influence.”
+
+“It is a wonderful voice,” Martini assented, catching at a subject of
+conversation which might lead her away from the dreadful memory called
+up by the river, “and he is, apart from his voice, about the finest
+preacher I have ever heard. But I believe the secret of his influence
+lies deeper than that. It is the way his life stands out from that of
+almost all the other prelates. I don't know whether you could lay your
+hand on one other high dignitary in all the Italian Church--except the
+Pope himself--whose reputation is so utterly spotless. I remember, when
+I was in the Romagna last year, passing through his diocese and seeing
+those fierce mountaineers waiting in the rain to get a glimpse of him or
+touch his dress. He is venerated there almost as a saint; and that means
+a good deal among the Romagnols, who generally hate everything that
+wears a cassock. I remarked to one of the old peasants,--as typical a
+smuggler as ever I saw in my life,--that the people seemed very much
+devoted to their bishop, and he said: 'We don't love bishops, they are
+liars; we love Monsignor Montanelli. Nobody has ever known him to tell a
+lie or do an unjust thing.'”
+
+“I wonder,” Gemma said, half to herself, “if he knows the people think
+that about him.”
+
+“Why shouldn't he know it? Do you think it is not true?”
+
+“I know it is not true.”
+
+“How do you know it?”
+
+“Because he told me so.”
+
+“HE told you? Montanelli? Gemma, what do you mean?”
+
+She pushed the hair back from her forehead and turned towards him. They
+were standing still again, he leaning on the balustrade and she slowly
+drawing lines on the pavement with the point of her umbrella.
+
+“Cesare, you and I have been friends for all these years, and I have
+never told you what really happened about Arthur.”
+
+“There is no need to tell me, dear,” he broke in hastily; “I know all
+about it already.”
+
+“Giovanni told you?”
+
+“Yes, when he was dying. He told me about it one night when I was
+sitting up with him. He said---- Gemma, dear, I had better tell you the
+truth, now we have begun talking about it--he said that you were always
+brooding over that wretched story, and he begged me to be as good a
+friend to you as I could and try to keep you from thinking of it. And I
+have tried to, dear, though I may not have succeeded--I have, indeed.”
+
+“I know you have,” she answered softly, raising her eyes for a moment;
+“I should have been badly off without your friendship. But--Giovanni did
+not tell you about Monsignor Montanelli, then?”
+
+“No, I didn't know that he had anything to do with it. What he told me
+was about--all that affair with the spy, and about----”
+
+“About my striking Arthur and his drowning himself. Well, I will tell
+you about Montanelli.”
+
+They turned back towards the bridge over which the Cardinal's carriage
+would have to pass. Gemma looked out steadily across the water as she
+spoke.
+
+“In those days Montanelli was a canon; he was Director of the
+Theological Seminary at Pisa, and used to give Arthur lessons in
+philosophy and read with him after he went up to the Sapienza. They were
+perfectly devoted to each other; more like two lovers than teacher and
+pupil. Arthur almost worshipped the ground that Montanelli walked on,
+and I remember his once telling me that if he lost his 'Padre'--he
+always used to call Montanelli so--he should go and drown himself. Well,
+then you know what happened about the spy. The next day, my father and
+the Burtons--Arthur's step-brothers, most detestable people--spent the
+whole day dragging the Darsena basin for the body; and I sat in my room
+alone and thought of what I had done----”
+
+She paused a moment, and went on again:
+
+“Late in the evening my father came into my room and said: 'Gemma,
+child, come downstairs; there's a man I want you to see.' And when we
+went down there was one of the students belonging to the group sitting
+in the consulting room, all white and shaking; and he told us about
+Giovanni's second letter coming from the prison to say that they had
+heard from the jailer about Cardi, and that Arthur had been tricked in
+the confessional. I remember the student saying to me: 'It is at least
+some consolation that we know he was innocent' My father held my hands
+and tried to comfort me; he did not know then about the blow. Then I
+went back to my room and sat there all night alone. In the morning my
+father went out again with the Burtons to see the harbour dragged. They
+had some hope of finding the body there.”
+
+“It was never found, was it?”
+
+“No; it must have got washed out to sea; but they thought there was a
+chance. I was alone in my room and the servant came up to say that a
+'reverendissimo padre' had called and she had told him my father was at
+the docks and he had gone away. I knew it must be Montanelli; so I ran
+out at the back door and caught him up at the garden gate. When I said:
+'Canon Montanelli, I want to speak to you,' he just stopped and waited
+silently for me to speak. Oh, Cesare, if you had seen his face--it
+haunted me for months afterwards! I said: 'I am Dr. Warren's daughter,
+and I have come to tell you that it is I who have killed Arthur.' I told
+him everything, and he stood and listened, like a figure cut in stone,
+till I had finished; then he said: 'Set your heart at rest, my child; it
+is I that am a murderer, not you. I deceived him and he found it out.'
+And with that he turned and went out at the gate without another word.”
+
+“And then?”
+
+“I don't know what happened to him after that; I heard the same evening
+that he had fallen down in the street in a kind of fit and had been
+carried into a house near the docks; but that is all I know. My father
+did everything he could for me; when I told him about it he threw up
+his practice and took me away to England at once, so that I should never
+hear anything that could remind me. He was afraid I should end in the
+water, too; and indeed I believe I was near it at one time. But then,
+you know, when we found out that my father had cancer I was obliged to
+come to myself--there was no one else to nurse him. And after he died
+I was left with the little ones on my hands until my elder brother was
+able to give them a home. Then there was Giovanni. Do you know, when
+he came to England we were almost afraid to meet each other with that
+frightful memory between us. He was so bitterly remorseful for his share
+in it all--that unhappy letter he wrote from prison. But I believe,
+really, it was our common trouble that drew us together.”
+
+Martini smiled and shook his head.
+
+“It may have been so on your side,” he said; “but Giovanni had made up
+his mind from the first time he ever saw you. I remember his coming back
+to Milan after that first visit to Leghorn and raving about you to me
+till I was perfectly sick of hearing of the English Gemma. I thought I
+should hate you. Ah! there it comes!”
+
+The carriage crossed the bridge and drove up to a large house on the
+Lung'Arno. Montanelli was leaning back on the cushions as if too tired
+to care any longer for the enthusiastic crowd which had collected round
+the door to catch a glimpse of him. The inspired look that his face had
+worn in the Cathedral had faded quite away and the sunlight showed the
+lines of care and fatigue. When he had alighted and passed, with the
+heavy, spiritless tread of weary and heart-sick old age, into the house,
+Gemma turned away and walked slowly to the bridge. Her face seemed for
+a moment to reflect the withered, hopeless look of his. Martini walked
+beside her in silence.
+
+“I have so often wondered,” she began again after a little pause; “what
+he meant about the deception. It has sometimes occurred to me----”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“Well, it is very strange; there was the most extraordinary personal
+resemblance between them.”
+
+“Between whom?”
+
+“Arthur and Montanelli. It was not only I who noticed it. And there was
+something mysterious in the relationship between the members of that
+household. Mrs. Burton, Arthur's mother, was one of the sweetest women
+I ever knew. Her face had the same spiritual look as Arthur's, and I
+believe they were alike in character, too. But she always seemed half
+frightened, like a detected criminal; and her step-son's wife used to
+treat her as no decent person treats a dog. And then Arthur himself was
+such a startling contrast to all those vulgar Burtons. Of course, when
+one is a child one takes everything for granted; but looking back on it
+afterwards I have often wondered whether Arthur was really a Burton.”
+
+“Possibly he found out something about his mother--that may easily
+have been the cause of his death, not the Cardi affair at all,” Martini
+interposed, offering the only consolation he could think of at the
+moment. Gemma shook her head.
+
+“If you could have seen his face after I struck him, Cesare, you would
+not think that. It may be all true about Montanelli--very likely it
+is--but what I have done I have done.”
+
+They walked on a little way without speaking.
+
+“My dear,” Martini said at last; “if there were any way on earth to undo
+a thing that is once done, it would be worth while to brood over our old
+mistakes; but as it is, let the dead bury their dead. It is a terrible
+story, but at least the poor lad is out of it now, and luckier than some
+of those that are left--the ones that are in exile and in prison. You
+and I have them to think of, we have no right to eat out our hearts for
+the dead. Remember what your own Shelley says: 'The past is Death's,
+the future is thine own.' Take it, while it is still yours, and fix your
+mind, not on what you may have done long ago to hurt, but on what you
+can do now to help.”
+
+In his earnestness he had taken her hand. He dropped it suddenly and
+drew back at the sound of a soft, cold, drawling voice behind him.
+
+“Monsignor Montan-n-nelli,” murmured this languid voice, “is undoubtedly
+all you say, my dear doctor. In fact, he appears to be so much too good
+for this world that he ought to be politely escorted into the next. I
+am sure he would cause as great a sensation there as he has done here;
+there are p-p-probably many old-established ghosts who have never seen
+such a thing as an honest cardinal. And there is nothing that ghosts
+love as they do novelties----”
+
+“How do you know that?” asked Dr. Riccardo's voice in a tone of
+ill-suppressed irritation.
+
+“From Holy Writ, my dear sir. If the Gospel is to be trusted, even the
+most respectable of all Ghosts had a f-f-fancy for capricious alliances.
+Now, honesty and c-c-cardinals--that seems to me a somewhat capricious
+alliance, and rather an uncomfortable one, like shrimps and liquorice.
+Ah, Signor Martini, and Signora Bolla! Lovely weather after the rain, is
+it not? Have you been to hear the n-new Savonarola, too?”
+
+Martini turned round sharply. The Gadfly, with a cigar in his mouth and
+a hot-house flower in his buttonhole, was holding out to him a slender,
+carefully-gloved hand. With the sunlight reflected in his immaculate
+boots and glancing back from the water on to his smiling face, he looked
+to Martini less lame and more conceited than usual. They were shaking
+hands, affably on the one side and rather sulkily on the other, when
+Riccardo hastily exclaimed:
+
+“I am afraid Signora Bolla is not well!”
+
+She was so pale that her face looked almost livid under the shadow of
+her bonnet, and the ribbon at her throat fluttered perceptibly from the
+violent beating of the heart.
+
+“I will go home,” she said faintly.
+
+A cab was called and Martini got in with her to see her safely home. As
+the Gadfly bent down to arrange her cloak, which was hanging over the
+wheel, he raised his eyes suddenly to her face, and Martini saw that she
+shrank away with a look of something like terror.
+
+“Gemma, what is the matter with you?” he asked, in English, when they
+had started. “What did that scoundrel say to you?”
+
+“Nothing, Cesare; it was no fault of his. I--I--had a fright----”
+
+“A fright?”
+
+“Yes; I fancied----” She put one hand over her eyes, and he waited
+silently till she should recover her self-command. Her face was already
+regaining its natural colour.
+
+“You are quite right,” she said at last, turning to him and speaking in
+her usual voice; “it is worse than useless to look back at a horrible
+past. It plays tricks with one's nerves and makes one imagine all sorts
+of impossible things. We will NEVER talk about that subject again,
+Cesare, or I shall see fantastic likenesses to Arthur in every face I
+meet. It is a kind of hallucination, like a nightmare in broad daylight.
+Just now, when that odious little fop came up, I fancied it was Arthur.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE Gadfly certainly knew how to make personal enemies. He had arrived
+in Florence in August, and by the end of October three-fourths of the
+committee which had invited him shared Martini's opinion. His savage
+attacks upon Montanelli had annoyed even his admirers; and Galli
+himself, who at first had been inclined to uphold everything the witty
+satirist said or did, began to acknowledge with an aggrieved air that
+Montanelli had better have been left in peace. “Decent cardinals are
+none so plenty. One might treat them politely when they do turn up.”
+
+The only person who, apparently, remained quite indifferent to the storm
+of caricatures and pasquinades was Montanelli himself. It seemed, as
+Martini said, hardly worth while to expend one's energy in ridiculing
+a man who took it so good-humouredly. It was said in the town that
+Montanelli, one day when the Archbishop of Florence was dining with
+him, had found in the room one of the Gadfly's bitter personal lampoons
+against himself, had read it through and handed the paper to the
+Archbishop, remarking: “That is rather cleverly put, is it not?”
+
+One day there appeared in the town a leaflet, headed: “The Mystery
+of the Annunciation.” Even had the author omitted his now familiar
+signature, a sketch of a gadfly with spread wings, the bitter, trenchant
+style would have left in the minds of most readers no doubt as to his
+identity. The skit was in the form of a dialogue between Tuscany as
+the Virgin Mary, and Montanelli as the angel who, bearing the lilies of
+purity and crowned with the olive branch of peace, was announcing the
+advent of the Jesuits. The whole thing was full of offensive personal
+allusions and hints of the most risky nature, and all Florence felt the
+satire to be both ungenerous and unfair. And yet all Florence laughed.
+There was something so irresistible in the Gadfly's grave absurdities
+that those who most disapproved of and disliked him laughed as
+immoderately at all his squibs as did his warmest partisans. Repulsive
+in tone as the leaflet was, it left its trace upon the popular feeling
+of the town. Montanelli's personal reputation stood too high for any
+lampoon, however witty, seriously to injure it, but for a moment the
+tide almost turned against him. The Gadfly had known where to sting;
+and, though eager crowds still collected before the Cardinal's house
+to see him enter or leave his carriage, ominous cries of “Jesuit!” and
+“Sanfedist spy!” often mingled with the cheers and benedictions.
+
+But Montanelli had no lack of supporters. Two days after the publication
+of the skit, the Churchman, a leading clerical paper, brought out
+a brilliant article, called: “An Answer to 'The Mystery of the
+Annunciation,'” and signed: “A Son of the Church.” It was an impassioned
+defence of Montanelli against the Gadfly's slanderous imputations. The
+anonymous writer, after expounding, with great eloquence and fervour,
+the doctrine of peace on earth and good will towards men, of which the
+new Pontiff was the evangelist, concluded by challenging the Gadfly
+to prove a single one of his assertions, and solemnly appealing to the
+public not to believe a contemptible slanderer. Both the cogency of
+the article as a bit of special pleading and its merit as a literary
+composition were sufficiently far above the average to attract much
+attention in the town, especially as not even the editor of the
+newspaper could guess the author's identity. The article was soon
+reprinted separately in pamphlet form; and the “anonymous defender” was
+discussed in every coffee-shop in Florence.
+
+The Gadfly responded with a violent attack on the new Pontificate and
+all its supporters, especially on Montanelli, who, he cautiously
+hinted, had probably consented to the panegyric on himself. To this
+the anonymous defender again replied in the Churchman with an indignant
+denial. During the rest of Montanelli's stay the controversy raging
+between the two writers occupied more of the public attention than did
+even the famous preacher himself.
+
+Some members of the liberal party ventured to remonstrate with the
+Gadfly about the unnecessary malice of his tone towards Montanelli; but
+they did not get much satisfaction out of him. He only smiled affably
+and answered with a languid little stammer: “R-really, gentlemen, you
+are rather unfair. I expressly stipulated, when I gave in to Signora
+Bolla, that I should be allowed a l-l-little chuckle all to myself now.
+It is so nominated in the bond!”
+
+At the end of October Montanelli returned to his see in the Romagna,
+and, before leaving Florence, preached a farewell sermon in which he
+spoke of the controversy, gently deprecating the vehemence of both
+writers and begging his unknown defender to set an example of tolerance
+by closing a useless and unseemly war of words. On the following day the
+Churchman contained a notice that, at Monsignor Montanelli's publicly
+expressed desire, “A Son of the Church” would withdraw from the
+controversy.
+
+The last word remained with the Gadfly. He issued a little leaflet,
+in which he declared himself disarmed and converted by Montanelli's
+Christian meekness and ready to weep tears of reconciliation upon the
+neck of the first Sanfedist he met. “I am even willing,” he concluded;
+“to embrace my anonymous challenger himself; and if my readers knew, as
+his Eminence and I know, what that implies and why he remains anonymous,
+they would believe in the sincerity of my conversion.”
+
+In the latter part of November he announced to the literary committee
+that he was going for a fortnight's holiday to the seaside. He went,
+apparently, to Leghorn; but Dr. Riccardo, going there soon after and
+wishing to speak to him, searched the town for him in vain. On the 5th
+of December a political demonstration of the most extreme character
+burst out in the States of the Church, along the whole chain of the
+Apennines; and people began to guess the reason of the Gadfly's sudden
+fancy to take his holidays in the depth of winter. He came back to
+Florence when the riots had been quelled, and, meeting Riccardo in the
+street, remarked affably:
+
+“I hear you were inquiring for me in Leghorn; I was staying in Pisa.
+What a pretty old town it is! There's something quite Arcadian about
+it.”
+
+In Christmas week he attended an afternoon meeting of the literary
+committee which was held in Dr. Riccardo's lodgings near the Porta alla
+Croce. The meeting was a full one, and when he came in, a little late,
+with an apologetic bow and smile, there seemed to be no seat empty.
+Riccardo rose to fetch a chair from the next room, but the Gadfly
+stopped him. “Don't trouble about it,” he said; “I shall be quite
+comfortable here”; and crossing the room to a window beside which
+Gemma had placed her chair, he sat down on the sill, leaning his head
+indolently back against the shutter.
+
+As he looked down at Gemma, smiling with half-shut eyes, in the subtle,
+sphinx-like way that gave him the look of a Leonardo da Vinci portrait,
+the instinctive distrust with which he inspired her deepened into a
+sense of unreasoning fear.
+
+The proposal under discussion was that a pamphlet be issued setting
+forth the committee's views on the dearth with which Tuscany was
+threatened and the measures which should be taken to meet it. The
+matter was a somewhat difficult one to decide, because, as usual, the
+committee's views upon the subject were much divided. The more advanced
+section, to which Gemma, Martini, and Riccardo belonged, was in favour
+of an energetic appeal to both government and public to take adequate
+measures at once for the relief of the peasantry. The moderate
+division--including, of course, Grassini--feared that an over-emphatic
+tone might irritate rather than convince the ministry.
+
+“It is all very well, gentlemen, to want the people helped at once,” he
+said, looking round upon the red-hot radicals with his calm and pitying
+air. “We most of us want a good many things that we are not likely to
+get; but if we start with the tone you propose to adopt, the government
+is very likely not to begin any relief measures at all till there is
+actual famine. If we could only induce the ministry to make an inquiry
+into the state of the crops it would be a step in advance.”
+
+Galli, in his corner by the stove, jumped up to answer his enemy.
+
+“A step in advance--yes, my dear sir; but if there's going to be a
+famine, it won't wait for us to advance at that pace. The people might
+all starve before we got to any actual relief.”
+
+“It would be interesting to know----” Sacconi began; but several voices
+interrupted him.
+
+“Speak up; we can't hear!”
+
+“I should think not, with such an infernal row in the street,” said
+Galli, irritably. “Is that window shut, Riccardo? One can't hear one's
+self speak!”
+
+Gemma looked round. “Yes,” she said, “the window is quite shut. I think
+there is a variety show, or some such thing, passing.”
+
+The sounds of shouting and laughter, of the tinkling of bells and
+trampling of feet, resounded from the street below, mixed with the
+braying of a villainous brass band and the unmerciful banging of a drum.
+
+“It can't be helped these few days,” said Riccardo; “we must expect
+noise at Christmas time. What were you saying, Sacconi?”
+
+“I said it would be interesting to hear what is thought about the matter
+in Pisa and Leghorn. Perhaps Signor Rivarez can tell us something; he
+has just come from there.”
+
+The Gadfly did not answer. He was staring out of the window and appeared
+not to have heard what had been said.
+
+“Signor Rivarez!” said Gemma. She was the only person sitting near to
+him, and as he remained silent she bent forward and touched him on the
+arm. He slowly turned his face to her, and she started as she saw its
+fixed and awful immobility. For a moment it was like the face of a
+corpse; then the lips moved in a strange, lifeless way.
+
+“Yes,” he whispered; “a variety show.”
+
+Her first instinct was to shield him from the curiosity of the others.
+Without understanding what was the matter with him, she realized that
+some frightful fancy or hallucination had seized upon him, and that, for
+the moment, he was at its mercy, body and soul. She rose quickly and,
+standing between him and the company, threw the window open as if to
+look out. No one but herself had seen his face.
+
+In the street a travelling circus was passing, with mountebanks on
+donkeys and harlequins in parti-coloured dresses. The crowd of holiday
+masqueraders, laughing and shoving, was exchanging jests and showers of
+paper ribbon with the clowns and flinging little bags of sugar-plums to
+the columbine, who sat in her car, tricked out in tinsel and feathers,
+with artificial curls on her forehead and an artificial smile on her
+painted lips. Behind the car came a motley string of figures--street
+Arabs, beggars, clowns turning somersaults, and costermongers hawking
+their wares. They were jostling, pelting, and applauding a figure which
+at first Gemma could not see for the pushing and swaying of the crowd.
+The next moment, however, she saw plainly what it was--a hunchback,
+dwarfish and ugly, grotesquely attired in a fool's dress, with paper
+cap and bells. He evidently belonged to the strolling company, and was
+amusing the crowd with hideous grimaces and contortions.
+
+“What is going on out there?” asked Riccardo, approaching the window.
+“You seem very much interested.”
+
+He was a little surprised at their keeping the whole committee waiting
+to look at a strolling company of mountebanks. Gemma turned round.
+
+“It is nothing interesting,” she said; “only a variety show; but they
+made such a noise that I thought it must be something else.”
+
+She was standing with one hand upon the window-sill, and suddenly felt
+the Gadfly's cold fingers press the hand with a passionate clasp. “Thank
+you!” he whispered softly; and then, closing the window, sat down again
+upon the sill.
+
+“I'm afraid,” he said in his airy manner, “that I have interrupted you,
+gentlemen. I was l-looking at the variety show; it is s-such a p-pretty
+sight.”
+
+“Sacconi was asking you a question,” said Martini gruffly. The Gadfly's
+behaviour seemed to him an absurd piece of affectation, and he was
+annoyed that Gemma should have been tactless enough to follow his
+example. It was not like her.
+
+The Gadfly disclaimed all knowledge of the state of feeling in Pisa,
+explaining that he had been there “only on a holiday.” He then plunged
+at once into an animated discussion, first of agricultural prospects,
+then of the pamphlet question; and continued pouring out a flood of
+stammering talk till the others were quite tired. He seemed to find some
+feverish delight in the sound of his own voice.
+
+When the meeting ended and the members of the committee rose to go,
+Riccardo came up to Martini.
+
+“Will you stop to dinner with me? Fabrizi and Sacconi have promised to
+stay.”
+
+“Thanks; but I was going to see Signora Bolla home.”
+
+“Are you really afraid I can't get home by myself?” she asked, rising
+and putting on her wrap. “Of course he will stay with you, Dr. Riccardo;
+it's good for him to get a change. He doesn't go out half enough.”
+
+“If you will allow me, I will see you home,” the Gadfly interposed; “I
+am going in that direction.”
+
+“If you really are going that way----”
+
+“I suppose you won't have time to drop in here in the course of the
+evening, will you, Rivarez?” asked Riccardo, as he opened the door for
+them.
+
+The Gadfly looked back over his shoulder, laughing. “I, my dear fellow?
+I'm going to see the variety show!”
+
+“What a strange creature that is; and what an odd affection for
+mountebanks!” said Riccardo, coming back to his visitors.
+
+“Case of a fellow-feeling, I should think,” said Martini; “the man's a
+mountebank himself, if ever I saw one.”
+
+“I wish I could think he was only that,” Fabrizi interposed, with a
+grave face. “If he is a mountebank I am afraid he's a very dangerous
+one.”
+
+“Dangerous in what way?”
+
+“Well, I don't like those mysterious little pleasure trips that he is so
+fond of taking. This is the third time, you know; and I don't believe he
+has been in Pisa at all.”
+
+“I suppose it is almost an open secret that it's into the mountains he
+goes,” said Sacconi. “He has hardly taken the trouble to deny that he
+is still in relations with the smugglers he got to know in the Savigno
+affair, and it's quite natural he should take advantage of their
+friendship to get his leaflets across the Papal frontier.”
+
+“For my part,” said Riccardo; “what I wanted to talk to you about is
+this very question. It occurred to me that we could hardly do better
+than ask Rivarez to undertake the management of our own smuggling. That
+press at Pistoja is very inefficiently managed, to my thinking; and the
+way the leaflets are taken across, always rolled in those everlasting
+cigars, is more than primitive.”
+
+“It has answered pretty well up till now,” said Martini contumaciously.
+He was getting wearied of hearing Galli and Riccardo always put the
+Gadfly forward as a model to copy, and inclined to think that the world
+had gone well enough before this “lackadaisical buccaneer” turned up to
+set everyone to rights.
+
+“It has answered so far well that we have been satisfied with it for
+want of anything better; but you know there have been plenty of arrests
+and confiscations. Now I believe that if Rivarez undertook the business
+for us, there would be less of that.”
+
+“Why do you think so?”
+
+“In the first place, the smugglers look upon us as strangers to do
+business with, or as sheep to fleece, whereas Rivarez is their personal
+friend, very likely their leader, whom they look up to and trust. You
+may be sure every smuggler in the Apennines will do for a man who was
+in the Savigno revolt what he will not do for us. In the next place,
+there's hardly a man among us that knows the mountains as Rivarez does.
+Remember, he has been a fugitive among them, and knows the smugglers'
+paths by heart. No smuggler would dare to cheat him, even if he wished
+to, and no smuggler could cheat him if he dared to try.”
+
+“Then is your proposal that we should ask him to take over the
+whole management of our literature on the other side of the
+frontier--distribution, addresses, hiding-places, everything--or simply
+that we should ask him to put the things across for us?”
+
+“Well, as for addresses and hiding-places, he probably knows already
+all the ones that we have and a good many more that we have not. I
+don't suppose we should be able to teach him much in that line. As
+for distribution, it's as the others prefer, of course. The important
+question, to my mind, is the actual smuggling itself. Once the books are
+safe in Bologna, it's a comparatively simple matter to circulate them.”
+
+“For my part,” said Martini, “I am against the plan. In the first place,
+all this about his skilfulness is mere conjecture; we have not actually
+seen him engaged in frontier work and do not know whether he keeps his
+head in critical moments.”
+
+“Oh, you needn't have any doubt of that!” Riccardo put in. “The history
+of the Savigno affair proves that he keeps his head.”
+
+“And then,” Martini went on; “I do not feel at all inclined, from what
+little I know of Rivarez, to intrust him with all the party's secrets.
+He seems to me feather-brained and theatrical. To give the whole
+management of a party's contraband work into a man's hands is a serious
+matter. Fabrizi, what do you think?”
+
+“If I had only such objections as yours, Martini,” replied the
+professor, “I should certainly waive them in the case of a man really
+possessing, as Rivarez undoubtedly does, all the qualifications Riccardo
+speaks of. For my part, I have not the slightest doubt as to either his
+courage, his honesty, or his presence of mind; and that he knows both
+mountains and mountaineers we have had ample proof. But there is another
+objection. I do not feel sure that it is only for the smuggling of
+pamphlets he goes into the mountains. I have begun to doubt whether he
+has not another purpose. This is, of course, entirely between ourselves.
+It is a mere suspicion. It seems to me just possible that he is in
+connexion with some one of the 'sects,' and perhaps with the most
+dangerous of them.”
+
+“Which one do you mean--the 'Red Girdles'?”
+
+“No; the 'Occoltellatori.'”
+
+“The 'Knifers'! But that is a little body of outlaws--peasants, most of
+them, with neither education nor political experience.”
+
+“So were the insurgents of Savigno; but they had a few educated men as
+leaders, and this little society may have the same. And remember, it's
+pretty well known that most of the members of those more violent sects
+in the Romagna are survivors of the Savigno affair, who found themselves
+too weak to fight the Churchmen in open insurrection, and so have fallen
+back on assassination. Their hands are not strong enough for guns, and
+they take to knives instead.”
+
+“But what makes you suppose Rivarez to be connected with them?”
+
+“I don't suppose, I merely suspect. In any case, I think we had better
+find out for certain before we intrust our smuggling to him. If he
+attempted to do both kinds of work at once he would injure our party
+most terribly; he would simply destroy its reputation and accomplish
+nothing. However, we will talk of that another time. I wanted to speak
+to you about the news from Rome. It is said that a commission is to be
+appointed to draw up a project for a municipal constitution.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GEMMA and the Gadfly walked silently along the Lung'Arno. His feverish
+talkativeness seemed to have quite spent itself; he had hardly spoken a
+word since they left Riccardo's door, and Gemma was heartily glad of his
+silence. She always felt embarrassed in his company, and to-day more
+so than usual, for his strange behaviour at the committee meeting had
+greatly perplexed her.
+
+By the Uffizi palace he suddenly stopped and turned to her.
+
+“Are you tired?”
+
+“No; why?”
+
+“Nor especially busy this evening?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“I want to ask a favour of you; I want you to come for a walk with me.”
+
+“Where to?”
+
+“Nowhere in particular; anywhere you like.”
+
+“But what for?”
+
+He hesitated.
+
+“I--can't tell you--at least, it's very difficult; but please come if
+you can.”
+
+He raised his eyes suddenly from the ground, and she saw how strange
+their expression was.
+
+“There is something the matter with you,” she said gently. He pulled a
+leaf from the flower in his button-hole, and began tearing it to pieces.
+Who was it that he was so oddly like? Someone who had that same trick of
+the fingers and hurried, nervous gesture.
+
+“I am in trouble,” he said, looking down at his hands and speaking in a
+hardly audible voice. “I--don't want to be alone this evening. Will you
+come?”
+
+“Yes, certainly, unless you would rather go to my lodgings.”
+
+“No; come and dine with me at a restaurant. There's one on the Signoria.
+Please don't refuse, now; you've promised!”
+
+They went into a restaurant, where he ordered dinner, but hardly touched
+his own share, and remained obstinately silent, crumbling the bread over
+the cloth, and fidgeting with the fringe of his table napkin. Gemma felt
+thoroughly uncomfortable, and began to wish she had refused to come; the
+silence was growing awkward; yet she could not begin to make small-talk
+with a person who seemed to have forgotten her presence. At last he
+looked up and said abruptly:
+
+“Would you like to see the variety show?”
+
+She stared at him in astonishment. What had he got into his head about
+variety shows?
+
+“Have you ever seen one?” he asked before she had time to speak.
+
+“No; I don't think so. I didn't suppose they were interesting.”
+
+“They are very interesting. I don't think anyone can study the life of
+the people without seeing them. Let us go back to the Porta alla Croce.”
+
+When they arrived the mountebanks had set up their tent beside the
+town gate, and an abominable scraping of fiddles and banging of drums
+announced that the performance had begun.
+
+The entertainment was of the roughest kind. A few clowns, harlequins,
+and acrobats, a circus-rider jumping through hoops, the painted
+columbine, and the hunchback performing various dull and foolish antics,
+represented the entire force of the company. The jokes were not, on the
+whole, coarse or offensive; but they were very tame and stale, and there
+was a depressing flatness about the whole thing. The audience laughed
+and clapped from their innate Tuscan courtesy; but the only part which
+they seemed really to enjoy was the performance of the hunchback, in
+which Gemma could find nothing either witty or skilful. It was merely
+a series of grotesque and hideous contortions, which the spectators
+mimicked, holding up children on their shoulders that the little ones
+might see the “ugly man.”
+
+“Signor Rivarez, do you really think this attractive?” said Gemma,
+turning to the Gadfly, who was standing beside her, his arm round one of
+the wooden posts of the tent. “It seems to me----”
+
+She broke off and remained looking at him silently. Except when she had
+stood with Montanelli at the garden gate in Leghorn, she had never seen
+a human face express such fathomless, hopeless misery. She thought of
+Dante's hell as she watched him.
+
+Presently the hunchback, receiving a kick from one of the clowns,
+turned a somersault and tumbled in a grotesque heap outside the ring. A
+dialogue between two clowns began, and the Gadfly seemed to wake out of
+a dream.
+
+“Shall we go?” he asked; “or would you like to see more?”
+
+“I would rather go.”
+
+They left the tent, and walked across the dark green to the river. For a
+few moments neither spoke.
+
+“What did you think of the show?” the Gadfly asked presently.
+
+“I thought it rather a dreary business; and part of it seemed to me
+positively unpleasant.”
+
+“Which part?”
+
+“Well, all those grimaces and contortions. They are simply ugly; there
+is nothing clever about them.”
+
+“Do you mean the hunchback's performance?”
+
+Remembering his peculiar sensitiveness on the subject of his own
+physical defects, she had avoided mentioning this particular bit of the
+entertainment; but now that he had touched upon the subject himself, she
+answered: “Yes; I did not like that part at all.”
+
+“That was the part the people enjoyed most.”
+
+“I dare say; and that is just the worst thing about it.”
+
+“Because it was inartistic?”
+
+“N-no; it was all inartistic. I meant--because it was cruel.”
+
+He smiled.
+
+“Cruel? Do you mean to the hunchback?”
+
+“I mean---- Of course the man himself was quite indifferent; no doubt,
+it is to him just a way of getting a living, like the circus-rider's
+way or the columbine's. But the thing makes one feel unhappy. It is
+humiliating; it is the degradation of a human being.”
+
+“He probably is not any more degraded than he was to start with. Most of
+us are degraded in one way or another.”
+
+“Yes; but this--I dare say you will think it an absurd prejudice; but
+a human body, to me, is a sacred thing; I don't like to see it treated
+irreverently and made hideous.”
+
+“And a human soul?”
+
+He had stopped short, and was standing with one hand on the stone
+balustrade of the embankment, looking straight at her.
+
+“A soul?” she repeated, stopping in her turn to look at him in wonder.
+
+He flung out both hands with a sudden, passionate gesture.
+
+“Has it never occurred to you that that miserable clown may have a
+soul--a living, struggling, human soul, tied down into that crooked hulk
+of a body and forced to slave for it? You that are so tender-hearted to
+everything--you that pity the body in its fool's dress and bells--have
+you never thought of the wretched soul that has not even motley to cover
+its horrible nakedness? Think of it shivering with cold, stilled with
+shame and misery, before all those people--feeling their jeers that cut
+like a whip--their laughter, that burns like red-hot iron on the bare
+flesh! Think of it looking round--so helpless before them all--for the
+mountains that will not fall on it--for the rocks that have not the
+heart to cover it--envying the rats that can creep into some hole in the
+earth and hide; and remember that a soul is dumb--it has no voice to cry
+out--it must endure, and endure, and endure. Oh! I'm talking nonsense!
+Why on earth don't you laugh? You have no sense of humour!”
+
+Slowly and in dead silence she turned and walked on along the river
+side. During the whole evening it had not once occurred to her to
+connect his trouble, whatever it might be, with the variety show; and
+now that some dim picture of his inner life had been revealed to her by
+this sudden outburst, she could not find, in her overwhelming pity for
+him, one word to say. He walked on beside her, with his head turned
+away, and looked into the water.
+
+“I want you, please, to understand,” he began suddenly, turning to her
+with a defiant air, “that everything I have just been saying to you is
+pure imagination. I'm rather given to romancing, but I don't like people
+to take it seriously.”
+
+She made no answer, and they walked on in silence. As they passed by the
+gateway of the Uffizi, he crossed the road and stooped down over a dark
+bundle that was lying against the railings.
+
+“What is the matter, little one?” he asked, more gently than she had
+ever heard him speak. “Why don't you go home?”
+
+The bundle moved, and answered something in a low, moaning voice. Gemma
+came across to look, and saw a child of about six years old, ragged and
+dirty, crouching on the pavement like a frightened animal. The Gadfly
+was bending down with his hand on the unkempt head.
+
+“What is it?” he said, stooping lower to catch the unintelligible
+answer. “You ought to go home to bed; little boys have no business out
+of doors at night; you'll be quite frozen! Give me your hand and jump up
+like a man! Where do you live?”
+
+He took the child's arm to raise him. The result was a sharp scream and
+a quick shrinking away.
+
+“Why, what is it?” the Gadfly asked, kneeling down on the pavement. “Ah!
+Signora, look here!”
+
+The child's shoulder and jacket were covered with blood.
+
+“Tell me what has happened?” the Gadfly went on caressingly. “It wasn't
+a fall, was it? No? Someone's been beating you? I thought so! Who was
+it?”
+
+“My uncle.”
+
+“Ah, yes! And when was it?”
+
+“This morning. He was drunk, and I--I----”
+
+“And you got in his way--was that it? You shouldn't get in people's way
+when they are drunk, little man; they don't like it. What shall we do
+with this poor mite, signora? Come here to the light, sonny, and let
+me look at that shoulder. Put your arm round my neck; I won't hurt you.
+There we are!”
+
+He lifted the boy in his arms, and, carrying him across the street, set
+him down on the wide stone balustrade. Then, taking out a pocket-knife,
+he deftly ripped up the torn sleeve, supporting the child's head against
+his breast, while Gemma held the injured arm. The shoulder was badly
+bruised and grazed, and there was a deep gash on the arm.
+
+“That's an ugly cut to give a mite like you,” said the Gadfly, fastening
+his handkerchief round the wound to prevent the jacket from rubbing
+against it. “What did he do it with?”
+
+“The shovel. I went to ask him to give me a soldo to get some polenta at
+the corner shop, and he hit me with the shovel.”
+
+The Gadfly shuddered. “Ah!” he said softly, “that hurts; doesn't it,
+little one?”
+
+“He hit me with the shovel--and I ran away--I ran away--because he hit
+me.”
+
+“And you've been wandering about ever since, without any dinner?”
+
+Instead of answering, the child began to sob violently. The Gadfly
+lifted him off the balustrade.
+
+“There, there! We'll soon set all that straight. I wonder if we can
+get a cab anywhere. I'm afraid they'll all be waiting by the theatre;
+there's a grand performance going on to-night. I am sorry to drag you
+about so, signora; but----”
+
+“I would rather come with you. You may want help. Do you think you can
+carry him so far? Isn't he very heavy?”
+
+“Oh, I can manage, thank you.”
+
+At the theatre door they found only a few cabs waiting, and these were
+all engaged. The performance was over, and most of the audience had
+gone. Zita's name was printed in large letters on the wall-placards; she
+had been dancing in the ballet. Asking Gemma to wait for him a moment,
+the Gadfly went round to the performers' entrance, and spoke to an
+attendant.
+
+“Has Mme. Reni gone yet?”
+
+“No, sir,” the man answered, staring blankly at the spectacle of a
+well-dressed gentleman carrying a ragged street child in his arms, “Mme.
+Reni is just coming out, I think; her carriage is waiting for her. Yes;
+there she comes.”
+
+Zita descended the stairs, leaning on the arm of a young cavalry
+officer. She looked superbly handsome, with an opera cloak of
+flame-coloured velvet thrown over her evening dress, and a great fan of
+ostrich plumes hanging from her waist. In the entry she stopped short,
+and, drawing her hand away from the officer's arm, approached the Gadfly
+in amazement.
+
+“Felice!” she exclaimed under her breath, “what HAVE you got there?”
+
+“I have picked up this child in the street. It is hurt and starving; and
+I want to get it home as quickly as possible. There is not a cab to be
+got anywhere, so I want to have your carriage.”
+
+“Felice! you are not going to take a horrid beggar-child into your
+rooms! Send for a policeman, and let him carry it to the Refuge or
+whatever is the proper place for it. You can't have all the paupers in
+the town----”
+
+“It is hurt,” the Gadfly repeated; “it can go to the Refuge to-morrow,
+if necessary, but I must see to the child first and give it some food.”
+
+Zita made a little grimace of disgust. “You've got its head right
+against your shirt! How CAN you? It is dirty!”
+
+The Gadfly looked up with a sudden flash of anger.
+
+“It is hungry,” he said fiercely. “You don't know what that means, do
+you?”
+
+“Signor Rivarez,” interposed Gemma, coming forward, “my lodgings are
+quite close. Let us take the child in there. Then, if you cannot find a
+vettura, I will manage to put it up for the night.”
+
+He turned round quickly. “You don't mind?”
+
+“Of course not. Good-night, Mme. Reni!”
+
+The gipsy, with a stiff bow and an angry shrug of her shoulders, took
+her officer's arm again, and, gathering up the train of her dress, swept
+past them to the contested carriage.
+
+“I will send it back to fetch you and the child, if you like, M.
+Rivarez,” she said, pausing on the doorstep.
+
+“Very well; I will give the address.” He came out on to the pavement,
+gave the address to the driver, and walked back to Gemma with his
+burden.
+
+Katie was waiting up for her mistress; and, on hearing what had
+happened, ran for warm water and other necessaries. Placing the child on
+a chair, the Gadfly knelt down beside him, and, deftly slipping off
+the ragged clothing, bathed and bandaged the wound with tender, skilful
+hands. He had just finished washing the boy, and was wrapping him in a
+warm blanket, when Gemma came in with a tray in her hands.
+
+“Is your patient ready for his supper?” she asked, smiling at the
+strange little figure. “I have been cooking it for him.”
+
+The Gadfly stood up and rolled the dirty rags together. “I'm afraid we
+have made a terrible mess in your room,” he said. “As for these, they
+had better go straight into the fire, and I will buy him some new
+clothes to-morrow. Have you any brandy in the house, signora? I think
+he ought to have a little. I will just wash my hands, if you will allow
+me.”
+
+When the child had finished his supper, he immediately went to sleep in
+the Gadfly's arms, with his rough head against the white shirt-front.
+Gemma, who had been helping Katie to set the disordered room tidy again,
+sat down at the table.
+
+“Signor Rivarez, you must take something before you go home--you had
+hardly any dinner, and it's very late.”
+
+“I should like a cup of tea in the English fashion, if you have it. I'm
+sorry to keep you up so late.”
+
+“Oh! that doesn't matter. Put the child down on the sofa; he will tire
+you. Wait a minute; I will just lay a sheet over the cushions. What are
+you going to do with him?”
+
+“To-morrow? Find out whether he has any other relations except that
+drunken brute; and if not, I suppose I must follow Mme. Reni's advice,
+and take him to the Refuge. Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to
+put a stone round his neck and pitch him into the river there; but that
+would expose me to unpleasant consequences. Fast asleep! What an odd
+little lump of ill-luck you are, you mite--not half as capable of
+defending yourself as a stray cat!”
+
+When Katie brought in the tea-tray, the boy opened his eyes and sat up
+with a bewildered air. Recognizing the Gadfly, whom he already regarded
+as his natural protector, he wriggled off the sofa, and, much encumbered
+by the folds of his blanket, came up to nestle against him. He was
+by now sufficiently revived to be inquisitive; and, pointing to the
+mutilated left hand, in which the Gadfly was holding a piece of cake,
+asked:
+
+“What's that?”
+
+“That? Cake; do you want some? I think you've had enough for now. Wait
+till to-morrow, little man.”
+
+“No--that!” He stretched out his hand and touched the stumps of the
+amputated fingers and the great scar on the wrist. The Gadfly put down
+his cake.
+
+“Oh, that! It's the same sort of thing as what you have on your
+shoulder--a hit I got from someone stronger than I was.”
+
+“Didn't it hurt awfully?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know--not more than other things. There, now, go to sleep
+again; you have no business asking questions at this time of night.”
+
+When the carriage arrived the boy was again asleep; and the Gadfly,
+without awaking him, lifted him gently and carried him out on to the
+stairs.
+
+“You have been a sort of ministering angel to me to-day,” he said to
+Gemma, pausing at the door. “But I suppose that need not prevent us from
+quarrelling to our heart's content in future.”
+
+“I have no desire to quarrel with anyone.”
+
+“Ah! but I have. Life would be unendurable without quarrels. A good
+quarrel is the salt of the earth; it's better than a variety show!”
+
+And with that he went downstairs, laughing softly to himself, with the
+sleeping child in his arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ONE day in the first week of January Martini, who had sent round
+the forms of invitation to the monthly group-meeting of the literary
+committee, received from the Gadfly a laconic, pencil-scrawled “Very
+sorry: can't come.” He was a little annoyed, as a notice of “important
+business” had been put into the invitation; this cavalier treatment
+seemed to him almost insolent. Moreover, three separate letters
+containing bad news arrived during the day, and the wind was in the
+east, so that Martini felt out of sorts and out of temper; and when, at
+the group meeting, Dr. Riccardo asked, “Isn't Rivarez here?” he answered
+rather sulkily: “No; he seems to have got something more interesting on
+hand, and can't come, or doesn't want to.”
+
+“Really, Martini,” said Galli irritably, “you are about the most
+prejudiced person in Florence. Once you object to a man, everything he
+does is wrong. How could Rivarez come when he's ill?”
+
+“Who told you he was ill?”
+
+“Didn't you know? He's been laid up for the last four days.”
+
+“What's the matter with him?”
+
+“I don't know. He had to put off an appointment with me on Thursday on
+account of illness; and last night, when I went round, I heard that he
+was too ill to see anyone. I thought Riccardo would be looking after
+him.”
+
+“I knew nothing about it. I'll go round to-night and see if he wants
+anything.”
+
+The next morning Riccardo, looking very pale and tired, came into
+Gemma's little study. She was sitting at the table, reading out
+monotonous strings of figures to Martini, who, with a magnifying glass
+in one hand and a finely pointed pencil in the other, was making
+tiny marks in the pages of a book. She made with one hand a gesture
+requesting silence. Riccardo, knowing that a person who is writing in
+cipher must not be interrupted, sat down on the sofa behind her and
+yawned like a man who can hardly keep awake.
+
+“2, 4; 3, 7; 6, 1; 3, 5; 4, 1;” Gemma's voice went on with machine-like
+evenness. “8, 4; 7, 2; 5, 1; that finishes the sentence, Cesare.”
+
+She stuck a pin into the paper to mark the exact place, and turned
+round.
+
+“Good-morning, doctor; how fagged you look! Are you well?”
+
+“Oh, I'm well enough--only tired out. I've had an awful night with
+Rivarez.”
+
+“With Rivarez?”
+
+“Yes; I've been up with him all night, and now I must go off to my
+hospital patients. I just came round to know whether you can think of
+anyone that could look after him a bit for the next few days. He's in a
+devil of a state. I'll do my best, of course; but I really haven't the
+time; and he won't hear of my sending in a nurse.”
+
+“What is the matter with him?”
+
+“Well, rather a complication of things. First of all----”
+
+“First of all, have you had any breakfast?”
+
+“Yes, thank you. About Rivarez--no doubt, it's complicated with a lot of
+nerve trouble; but the main cause of disturbance is an old injury
+that seems to have been disgracefully neglected. Altogether, he's in
+a frightfully knocked-about state; I suppose it was that war in South
+America--and he certainly didn't get proper care when the mischief was
+done. Probably things were managed in a very rough-and-ready fashion
+out there; he's lucky to be alive at all. However, there's a chronic
+tendency to inflammation, and any trifle may bring on an attack----”
+
+“Is that dangerous?”
+
+“N-no; the chief danger in a case of that kind is of the patient getting
+desperate and taking a dose of arsenic.”
+
+“It is very painful, of course?”
+
+“It's simply horrible; I don't know how he manages to bear it. I was
+obliged to stupefy him with opium in the night--a thing I hate to do
+with a nervous patient; but I had to stop it somehow.”
+
+“He is nervous, I should think.”
+
+“Very, but splendidly plucky. As long as he was not actually
+light-headed with the pain last night, his coolness was quite wonderful.
+But I had an awful job with him towards the end. How long do you suppose
+this thing has been going on? Just five nights; and not a soul within
+call except that stupid landlady, who wouldn't wake if the house tumbled
+down, and would be no use if she did.”
+
+“But what about the ballet-girl?”
+
+“Yes; isn't that a curious thing? He won't let her come near him. He
+has a morbid horror of her. Altogether, he's one of the most
+incomprehensible creatures I ever met--a perfect mass of
+contradictions.”
+
+He took out his watch and looked at it with a preoccupied face. “I shall
+be late at the hospital; but it can't be helped. The junior will have
+to begin without me for once. I wish I had known of all this before--it
+ought not to have been let go on that way night after night.”
+
+“But why on earth didn't he send to say he was ill?” Martini
+interrupted. “He might have guessed we shouldn't have left him stranded
+in that fashion.”
+
+“I wish, doctor,” said Gemma, “that you had sent for one of us last
+night, instead of wearing yourself out like this.”
+
+“My dear lady, I wanted to send round to Galli; but Rivarez got so
+frantic at the suggestion that I didn't dare attempt it. When I asked
+him whether there was anyone else he would like fetched, he looked at me
+for a minute, as if he were scared out of his wits, and then put up
+both hands to his eyes and said: 'Don't tell them; they will laugh!'
+He seemed quite possessed with some fancy about people laughing at
+something. I couldn't make out what; he kept talking Spanish; but
+patients do say the oddest things sometimes.”
+
+“Who is with him now?” asked Gemma.
+
+“No one except the landlady and her maid.”
+
+“I'll go to him at once,” said Martini.
+
+“Thank you. I'll look round again in the evening. You'll find a paper
+of written directions in the table-drawer by the large window, and the
+opium is on the shelf in the next room. If the pain comes on again, give
+him another dose--not more than one; but don't leave the bottle where he
+can get at it, whatever you do; he might be tempted to take too much.”
+
+When Martini entered the darkened room, the Gadfly turned his head
+round quickly, and, holding out to him a burning hand, began, in a bad
+imitation of his usual flippant manner:
+
+“Ah, Martini! You have come to rout me out about those proofs. It's no
+use swearing at me for missing the committee last night; the fact is, I
+have not been quite well, and----”
+
+“Never mind the committee. I have just seen Riccardo, and have come to
+know if I can be of any use.”
+
+The Gadfly set his face like a flint.
+
+“Oh, really! that is very kind of you; but it wasn't worth the trouble.
+I'm only a little out of sorts.”
+
+“So I understood from Riccardo. He was up with you all night, I
+believe.”
+
+The Gadfly bit his lip savagely.
+
+“I am quite comfortable, thank you, and don't want anything.”
+
+“Very well; then I will sit in the other room; perhaps you would rather
+be alone. I will leave the door ajar, in case you call me.”
+
+“Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't want anything. I should
+be wasting your time for nothing.”
+
+“Nonsense, man!” Martini broke in roughly. “What's the use of trying
+to fool me that way? Do you think I have no eyes? Lie still and go to
+sleep, if you can.”
+
+He went into the adjoining room, and, leaving the door open, sat down
+with a book. Presently he heard the Gadfly move restlessly two or three
+times. He put down his book and listened. There was a short silence,
+then another restless movement; then the quick, heavy, panting breath
+of a man clenching his teeth to suppress a groan. He went back into the
+room.
+
+“Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?”
+
+There was no answer, and he crossed the room to the bed-side. The
+Gadfly, with a ghastly, livid face, looked at him for a moment, and
+silently shook his head.
+
+“Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo said you were to have it if
+the pain got very bad.”
+
+“No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer. It may be worse later on.”
+
+Martini shrugged his shoulders and sat down beside the bed. For an
+interminable hour he watched in silence; then he rose and fetched the
+opium.
+
+“Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if you can stand it, I
+can't. You must have the stuff.”
+
+The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he turned away and closed
+his eyes. Martini sat down again, and listened as the breathing became
+gradually deep and even.
+
+The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake easily when once asleep. Hour
+after hour he lay absolutely motionless. Martini approached him several
+times during the day and evening, and looked at the still figure; but,
+except the breathing, there was no sign of life. The face was so wan and
+colourless that at last a sudden fear seized upon him; what if he had
+given too much opium? The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, and
+he shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did so, the unfastened
+sleeve fell back, showing a series of deep and fearful scars covering
+the arm from wrist to elbow.
+
+“That arm must have been in a pleasant condition when those marks were
+fresh,” said Riccardo's voice behind him.
+
+“Ah, there you are at last! Look here, Riccardo; ought this man to sleep
+forever? I gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he hasn't moved a
+muscle since.”
+
+Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment.
+
+“No; he is breathing quite properly; it's nothing but sheer
+exhaustion--what you might expect after such a night. There may be
+another paroxysm before morning. Someone will sit up, I hope?”
+
+“Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here by ten.”
+
+“It's nearly that now. Ah, he's waking! Just see the maidservant gets
+that broth hot. Gently--gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn't
+fight, man; I'm not a bishop!”
+
+The Gadfly started up with a shrinking, scared look. “Is it my turn?” he
+said hurriedly in Spanish. “Keep the people amused a minute; I---- Ah! I
+didn't see you, Riccardo.”
+
+He looked round the room and drew one hand across his forehead as if
+bewildered. “Martini! Why, I thought you had gone away. I must have been
+asleep.”
+
+“You have been sleeping like the beauty in the fairy story for the last
+ten hours; and now you are to have some broth and go to sleep again.”
+
+“Ten hours! Martini, surely you haven't been here all that time?”
+
+“Yes; I was beginning to wonder whether I hadn't given you an overdose
+of opium.”
+
+The Gadfly shot a sly glance at him.
+
+“No such luck! Wouldn't you have nice quiet committee-meetings? What
+the devil do you want, Riccardo? Do for mercy's sake leave me in peace,
+can't you? I hate being mauled about by doctors.”
+
+“Well then, drink this and I'll leave you in peace. I shall come round
+in a day or two, though, and give you a thorough overhauling. I think
+you have pulled through the worst of this business now; you don't look
+quite so much like a death's head at a feast.”
+
+“Oh, I shall be all right soon, thanks. Who's that--Galli? I seem to
+have a collection of all the graces here to-night.”
+
+“I have come to stop the night with you.”
+
+“Nonsense! I don't want anyone. Go home, all the lot of you. Even if
+the thing should come on again, you can't help me; I won't keep taking
+opium. It's all very well once in a way.”
+
+“I'm afraid you're right,” Riccardo said. “But that's not always an easy
+resolution to stick to.”
+
+The Gadfly looked up, smiling. “No fear! If I'd been going in for that
+sort of thing, I should have done it long ago.”
+
+“Anyway, you are not going to be left alone,” Riccardo answered drily.
+“Come into the other room a minute, Galli; I want to speak to you.
+Good-night, Rivarez; I'll look in to-morrow.”
+
+Martini was following them out of the room when he heard his name softly
+called. The Gadfly was holding out a hand to him.
+
+“Thank you!”
+
+“Oh, stuff! Go to sleep.”
+
+When Riccardo had gone, Martini remained a few minutes in the outer
+room, talking with Galli. As he opened the front door of the house he
+heard a carriage stop at the garden gate and saw a woman's figure get
+out and come up the path. It was Zita, returning, evidently, from some
+evening entertainment. He lifted his hat and stood aside to let her
+pass, then went out into the dark lane leading from the house to the
+Poggio Imperiale. Presently the gate clicked and rapid footsteps came
+down the lane.
+
+“Wait a minute!” she said.
+
+When he turned back to meet her she stopped short, and then came slowly
+towards him, dragging one hand after her along the hedge. There was a
+single street-lamp at the corner, and he saw by its light that she was
+hanging her head down as though embarrassed or ashamed.
+
+“How is he?” she asked without looking up.
+
+“Much better than he was this morning. He has been asleep most of the
+day and seems less exhausted. I think the attack is passing over.”
+
+She still kept her eyes on the ground.
+
+“Has it been very bad this time?”
+
+“About as bad as it can well be, I should think.”
+
+“I thought so. When he won't let me come into the room, that always
+means it's bad.”
+
+“Does he often have attacks like this?”
+
+“That depends---- It's so irregular. Last summer, in Switzerland, he was
+quite well; but the winter before, when we were in Vienna, it was awful.
+He wouldn't let me come near him for days together. He hates to have me
+about when he's ill.”
+
+She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her eyes again, went on:
+
+“He always used to send me off to a ball, or concert, or something, on
+one pretext or another, when he felt it coming on. Then he would lock
+himself into his room. I used to slip back and sit outside the door--he
+would have been furious if he'd known. He'd let the dog come in if it
+whined, but not me. He cares more for it, I think.”
+
+There was a curious, sullen defiance in her manner.
+
+“Well, I hope it won't be so bad any more,” said Martini kindly. “Dr.
+Riccardo is taking the case seriously in hand. Perhaps he will be able
+to make a permanent improvement. And, in any case, the treatment gives
+relief at the moment. But you had better send to us at once, another
+time. He would have suffered very much less if we had known of it
+earlier. Good-night!”
+
+He held out his hand, but she drew back with a quick gesture of refusal.
+
+“I don't see why you want to shake hands with his mistress.”
+
+“As you like, of course,” he began in embarrassment.
+
+She stamped her foot on the ground. “I hate you!” she cried, turning on
+him with eyes like glowing coals. “I hate you all! You come here talking
+politics to him; and he lets you sit up the night with him and give him
+things to stop the pain, and I daren't so much as peep at him through
+the door! What is he to you? What right have you to come and steal him
+away from me? I hate you! I hate you! I HATE you!”
+
+She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting back into the
+garden, slammed the gate in his face.
+
+“Good Heavens!” said Martini to himself, as he walked down the lane.
+“That girl is actually in love with him! Of all the extraordinary
+things----”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE Gadfly's recovery was rapid. One afternoon in the following week
+Riccardo found him lying on the sofa in a Turkish dressing-gown,
+chatting with Martini and Galli. He even talked about going downstairs;
+but Riccardo merely laughed at the suggestion and asked whether he would
+like a tramp across the valley to Fiesole to start with.
+
+“You might go and call on the Grassinis for a change,” he added
+wickedly. “I'm sure madame would be delighted to see you, especially
+now, when you look so pale and interesting.”
+
+The Gadfly clasped his hands with a tragic gesture.
+
+“Bless my soul! I never thought of that! She'd take me for one of
+Italy's martyrs, and talk patriotism to me. I should have to act up to
+the part, and tell her I've been cut to pieces in an underground dungeon
+and stuck together again rather badly; and she'd want to know exactly
+what the process felt like. You don't think she'd believe it, Riccardo?
+I'll bet you my Indian dagger against the bottled tape-worm in your
+den that she'll swallow the biggest lie I can invent. That's a generous
+offer, and you'd better jump at it.”
+
+“Thanks, I'm not so fond of murderous tools as you are.”
+
+“Well, a tape-worm is as murderous as a dagger, any day, and not half so
+pretty.”
+
+“But as it happens, my dear fellow, I don't want the dagger and I do
+want the tape-worm. Martini, I must run off. Are you in charge of this
+obstreperous patient?”
+
+“Only till three o'clock. Galli and I have to go to San Miniato, and
+Signora Bolla is coming till I can get back.”
+
+“Signora Bolla!” the Gadfly repeated in a tone of dismay. “Why,
+Martini, this will never do! I can't have a lady bothered over me and my
+ailments. Besides, where is she to sit? She won't like to come in here.”
+
+“Since when have you gone in so fiercely for the proprieties?” asked
+Riccardo, laughing. “My good man, Signora Bolla is head nurse in general
+to all of us. She has looked after sick people ever since she was in
+short frocks, and does it better than any sister of mercy I know. Won't
+like to come into your room! Why, you might be talking of the Grassini
+woman! I needn't leave any directions if she's coming, Martini. Heart
+alive, it's half-past two; I must be off!”
+
+“Now, Rivarez, take your physic before she comes,” said Galli,
+approaching the sofa with a medicine glass.
+
+“Damn the physic!” The Gadfly had reached the irritable stage of
+convalescence, and was inclined to give his devoted nurses a bad time.
+“W-what do you want to d-d-dose me with all sorts of horrors for now the
+pain is gone?”
+
+“Just because I don't want it to come back. You wouldn't like it if you
+collapsed when Signora Bolla is here and she had to give you opium.”
+
+“My g-good sir, if that pain is going to come back it will come; it's
+not a t-toothache to be frightened away with your trashy mixtures. They
+are about as much use as a t-toy squirt for a house on fire. However, I
+suppose you must have your way.”
+
+He took the glass with his left hand, and the sight of the terrible
+scars recalled Galli to the former subject of conversation.
+
+“By the way,” he asked; “how did you get so much knocked about? In the
+war, was it?”
+
+“Now, didn't I just tell you it was a case of secret dungeons and----”
+
+“Yes, that version is for Signora Grassini's benefit. Really, I suppose
+it was in the war with Brazil?”
+
+“Yes, I got a bit hurt there; and then hunting in the savage districts
+and one thing and another.”
+
+“Ah, yes; on the scientific expedition. You can fasten your shirt; I
+have quite done. You seem to have had an exciting time of it out there.”
+
+“Well, of course you can't live in savage countries without getting a
+few adventures once in a way,” said the Gadfly lightly; “and you can
+hardly expect them all to be pleasant.”
+
+“Still, I don't understand how you managed to get so much knocked about
+unless in a bad adventure with wild beasts--those scars on your left
+arm, for instance.”
+
+“Ah, that was in a puma-hunt. You see, I had fired----”
+
+There was a knock at the door.
+
+“Is the room tidy, Martini? Yes? Then please open the door. This is
+really most kind, signora; you must excuse my not getting up.”
+
+“Of course you mustn't get up; I have not come as a caller. I am a
+little early, Cesare. I thought perhaps you were in a hurry to go.”
+
+“I can stop for a quarter of an hour. Let me put your cloak in the other
+room. Shall I take the basket, too?”
+
+“Take care; those are new-laid eggs. Katie brought them in from Monte
+Oliveto this morning. There are some Christmas roses for you, Signor
+Rivarez; I know you are fond of flowers.”
+
+She sat down beside the table and began clipping the stalks of the
+flowers and arranging them in a vase.
+
+“Well, Rivarez,” said Galli; “tell us the rest of the puma-hunt story;
+you had just begun.”
+
+“Ah, yes! Galli was asking me about life in South America, signora; and
+I was telling him how I came to get my left arm spoiled. It was in Peru.
+We had been wading a river on a puma-hunt, and when I fired at the beast
+the powder wouldn't go off; it had got splashed with water. Naturally
+the puma didn't wait for me to rectify that; and this is the result.”
+
+“That must have been a pleasant experience.”
+
+“Oh, not so bad! One must take the rough with the smooth, of course; but
+it's a splendid life on the whole. Serpent-catching, for instance----”
+
+He rattled on, telling anecdote after anecdote; now of the Argentine
+war, now of the Brazilian expedition, now of hunting feats and
+adventures with savages or wild beasts. Galli, with the delight of
+a child hearing a fairy story, kept interrupting every moment to ask
+questions. He was of the impressionable Neapolitan temperament and loved
+everything sensational. Gemma took some knitting from her basket and
+listened silently, with busy fingers and downcast eyes. Martini frowned
+and fidgeted. The manner in which the anecdotes were told seemed to
+him boastful and self-conscious; and, notwithstanding his unwilling
+admiration for a man who could endure physical pain with the amazing
+fortitude which he had seen the week before, he genuinely disliked the
+Gadfly and all his works and ways.
+
+“It must have been a glorious life!” sighed Galli with naive envy. “I
+wonder you ever made up your mind to leave Brazil. Other countries must
+seem so flat after it!”
+
+“I think I was happiest in Peru and Ecuador,” said the Gadfly. “That
+really is a magnificent tract of country. Of course it is very hot,
+especially the coast district of Ecuador, and one has to rough it a bit;
+but the scenery is superb beyond imagination.”
+
+“I believe,” said Galli, “the perfect freedom of life in a barbarous
+country would attract me more than any scenery. A man must feel his
+personal, human dignity as he can never feel it in our crowded towns.”
+
+“Yes,” the Gadfly answered; “that is----”
+
+Gemma raised her eyes from her knitting and looked at him. He flushed
+suddenly scarlet and broke off. There was a little pause.
+
+“Surely it is not come on again?” asked Galli anxiously.
+
+“Oh, nothing to speak of, thanks to your s-s-soothing application that I
+b-b-blasphemed against. Are you going already, Martini?”
+
+“Yes. Come along, Galli; we shall be late.”
+
+Gemma followed the two men out of the room, and presently returned with
+an egg beaten up in milk.
+
+“Take this, please,” she said with mild authority; and sat down again to
+her knitting. The Gadfly obeyed meekly.
+
+For half an hour, neither spoke. Then the Gadfly said in a very low
+voice:
+
+“Signora Bolla!”
+
+She looked up. He was tearing the fringe of the couch-rug, and kept his
+eyes lowered.
+
+“You didn't believe I was speaking the truth just now,” he began.
+
+“I had not the smallest doubt that you were telling falsehoods,” she
+answered quietly.
+
+“You were quite right. I was telling falsehoods all the time.”
+
+“Do you mean about the war?”
+
+“About everything. I was not in that war at all; and as for the
+expedition, I had a few adventures, of course, and most of those stories
+are true, but it was not that way I got smashed. You have detected me in
+one lie, so I may as well confess the lot, I suppose.”
+
+“Does it not seem to you rather a waste of energy to invent so many
+falsehoods?” she asked. “I should have thought it was hardly worth the
+trouble.”
+
+“What would you have? You know your own English proverb: 'Ask no
+questions and you'll be told no lies.' It's no pleasure to me to fool
+people that way, but I must answer them somehow when they ask what made
+a cripple of me; and I may as well invent something pretty while I'm
+about it. You saw how pleased Galli was.”
+
+“Do you prefer pleasing Galli to speaking the truth?”
+
+“The truth!” He looked up with the torn fringe in his hand. “You
+wouldn't have me tell those people the truth? I'd cut my tongue out
+first!” Then with an awkward, shy abruptness:
+
+“I have never told it to anybody yet; but I'll tell you if you care to
+hear.”
+
+She silently laid down her knitting. To her there was something
+grievously pathetic in this hard, secret, unlovable creature, suddenly
+flinging his personal confidence at the feet of a woman whom he barely
+knew and whom he apparently disliked.
+
+A long silence followed, and she looked up. He was leaning his left arm
+on the little table beside him, and shading his eyes with the mutilated
+hand, and she noticed the nervous tension of the fingers and the
+throbbing of the scar on the wrist. She came up to him and called him
+softly by name. He started violently and raised his head.
+
+“I f-forgot,” he stammered apologetically. “I was g-going to t-tell you
+about----”
+
+“About the--accident or whatever it was that caused your lameness. But
+if it worries you----”
+
+“The accident? Oh, the smashing! Yes; only it wasn't an accident, it was
+a poker.”
+
+She stared at him in blank amazement. He pushed back his hair with a
+hand that shook perceptibly, and looked up at her, smiling.
+
+“Won't you sit down? Bring your chair close, please. I'm so sorry I
+can't get it for you. R-really, now I come to think of it, the case
+would have been a p-perfect t-treasure-trove for Riccardo if he had
+had me to treat; he has the true surgeon's love for broken bones, and
+I believe everything in me that was breakable was broken on that
+occasion--except my neck.”
+
+“And your courage,” she put in softly. “But perhaps you count that among
+your unbreakable possessions.”
+
+He shook his head. “No,” he said; “my courage has been mended up after
+a fashion, with the rest of me; but it was fairly broken then, like a
+smashed tea-cup; that's the horrible part of it. Ah---- Yes; well, I was
+telling you about the poker.
+
+“It was--let me see--nearly thirteen years ago, in Lima. I told you
+Peru was a delightful country to live in; but it's not quite so nice for
+people that happen to be at low water, as I was. I had been down in the
+Argentine, and then in Chili, tramping the country and starving, mostly;
+and had come up from Valparaiso as odd-man on a cattle-boat. I couldn't
+get any work in Lima itself, so I went down to the docks,--they're
+at Callao, you know,--to try there. Well of course in all those
+shipping-ports there are low quarters where the sea-faring people
+congregate; and after some time I got taken on as servant in one of the
+gambling hells there. I had to do the cooking and billiard-marking, and
+fetch drink for the sailors and their women, and all that sort of thing.
+Not very pleasant work; still I was glad to get it; there was at least
+food and the sight of human faces and sound of human tongues--of a
+kind. You may think that was no advantage; but I had just been down with
+yellow fever, alone in the outhouse of a wretched half-caste shanty, and
+the thing had given me the horrors. Well, one night I was told to put
+out a tipsy Lascar who was making himself obnoxious; he had come ashore
+and lost all his money and was in a bad temper. Of course I had to obey
+if I didn't want to lose my place and starve; but the man was twice as
+strong as I--I was not twenty-one and as weak as a cat after the fever.
+Besides, he had the poker.”
+
+He paused a moment, glancing furtively at her; then went on:
+
+“Apparently he intended to put an end to me altogether; but somehow he
+managed to scamp his work--Lascars always do if they have a chance; and
+left just enough of me not smashed to go on living with.”
+
+“Yes, but the other people, could they not interfere? Were they all
+afraid of one Lascar?”
+
+He looked up and burst out laughing.
+
+“THE OTHER PEOPLE? The gamblers and the people of the house? Why, you
+don't understand! They were negroes and Chinese and Heaven knows what;
+and I was their servant--THEIR PROPERTY. They stood round and enjoyed
+the fun, of course. That sort of thing counts for a good joke out there.
+So it is if you don't happen to be the subject practised on.”
+
+She shuddered.
+
+“Then what was the end of it?”
+
+“That I can't tell you much about; a man doesn't remember the next
+few days after a thing of that kind, as a rule. But there was a ship's
+surgeon near, and it seems that when they found I was not dead, somebody
+called him in. He patched me up after a fashion--Riccardo seems to think
+it was rather badly done, but that may be professional jealousy. Anyhow,
+when I came to my senses, an old native woman had taken me in for
+Christian charity--that sounds queer, doesn't it? She used to sit
+huddled up in the corner of the hut, smoking a black pipe and spitting
+on the floor and crooning to herself. However, she meant well, and
+she told me I might die in peace and nobody should disturb me. But the
+spirit of contradiction was strong in me and I elected to live. It
+was rather a difficult job scrambling back to life, and sometimes I
+am inclined to think it was a great deal of cry for very little wool.
+Anyway that old woman's patience was wonderful; she kept me--how long
+was it?--nearly four months lying in her hut, raving like a mad thing at
+intervals, and as vicious as a bear with a sore ear between-whiles.
+The pain was pretty bad, you see, and my temper had been spoiled in
+childhood with overmuch coddling.”
+
+“And then?”
+
+“Oh, then--I got up somehow and crawled away. No, don't think it was
+any delicacy about taking a poor woman's charity--I was past caring for
+that; it was only that I couldn't bear the place any longer. You talked
+just now about my courage; if you had seen me then! The worst of the
+pain used to come on every evening, about dusk; and in the afternoon
+I used to lie alone, and watch the sun get lower and lower---- Oh, you
+can't understand! It makes me sick to look at a sunset now!”
+
+A long pause.
+
+“Well, then I went up country, to see if I could get work anywhere--it
+would have driven me mad to stay in Lima. I got as far as Cuzco, and
+there------ Really I don't know why I'm inflicting all this ancient
+history on you; it hasn't even the merit of being funny.”
+
+She raised her head and looked at him with deep and serious eyes.
+“PLEASE don't talk that way,” she said.
+
+He bit his lip and tore off another piece of the rug-fringe.
+
+“Shall I go on?” he asked after a moment.
+
+“If--if you will. I am afraid it is horrible to you to remember.”
+
+“Do you think I forget when I hold my tongue? It's worse then. But
+don't imagine it's the thing itself that haunts me so. It is the fact of
+having lost the power over myself.”
+
+“I--don't think I quite understand.”
+
+“I mean, it is the fact of having come to the end of my courage, to the
+point where I found myself a coward.”
+
+“Surely there is a limit to what anyone can bear.”
+
+“Yes; and the man who has once reached that limit never knows when he
+may reach it again.”
+
+“Would you mind telling me,” she asked, hesitating, “how you came to be
+stranded out there alone at twenty?”
+
+“Very simply: I had a good opening in life, at home in the old country,
+and ran away from it.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+He laughed again in his quick, harsh way.
+
+“Why? Because I was a priggish young cub, I suppose. I had been brought
+up in an over-luxurious home, and coddled and faddled after till I
+thought the world was made of pink cotton-wool and sugared almonds. Then
+one fine day I found out that someone I had trusted had deceived me.
+Why, how you start! What is it?”
+
+“Nothing. Go on, please.”
+
+“I found out that I had been tricked into believing a lie; a common bit
+of experience, of course; but, as I tell you, I was young and priggish,
+and thought that liars go to hell. So I ran away from home and plunged
+into South America to sink or swim as I could, without a cent in my
+pocket or a word of Spanish in my tongue, or anything but white hands
+and expensive habits to get my bread with. And the natural result was
+that I got a dip into the real hell to cure me of imagining sham ones.
+A pretty thorough dip, too--it was just five years before the Duprez
+expedition came along and pulled me out.”
+
+“Five years! Oh, that is terrible! And had you no friends?”
+
+“Friends! I”--he turned on her with sudden fierceness--“I have NEVER had
+a friend!”
+
+The next instant he seemed a little ashamed of his vehemence, and went
+on quickly:
+
+“You mustn't take all this too seriously; I dare say I made the worst
+of things, and really it wasn't so bad the first year and a half; I was
+young and strong and I managed to scramble along fairly well till the
+Lascar put his mark on me. But after that I couldn't get work. It's
+wonderful what an effectual tool a poker is if you handle it properly;
+and nobody cares to employ a cripple.”
+
+“What sort of work did you do?”
+
+“What I could get. For some time I lived by odd-jobbing for the blacks
+on the sugar plantations, fetching and carrying and so on. It's one of
+the curious things in life, by the way, that slaves always contrive to
+have a slave of their own, and there's nothing a negro likes so much as
+a white fag to bully. But it was no use; the overseers always turned me
+off. I was too lame to be quick; and I couldn't manage the heavy loads.
+And then I was always getting these attacks of inflammation, or whatever
+the confounded thing is.
+
+“After some time I went down to the silver-mines and tried to get work
+there; but it was all no good. The managers laughed at the very notion
+of taking me on, and as for the men, they made a dead set at me.”
+
+“Why was that?”
+
+“Oh, human nature, I suppose; they saw I had only one hand that I could
+hit back with. They're a mangy, half-caste lot; negroes and Zambos
+mostly. And then those horrible coolies! So at last I got enough of
+that, and set off to tramp the country at random; just wandering about,
+on the chance of something turning up.”
+
+“To tramp? With that lame foot!”
+
+He looked up with a sudden, piteous catching of the breath.
+
+“I--I was hungry,” he said.
+
+She turned her head a little away and rested her chin on one hand. After
+a moment's silence he began again, his voice sinking lower and lower as
+he spoke:
+
+“Well, I tramped, and tramped, till I was nearly mad with tramping, and
+nothing came of it. I got down into Ecuador, and there it was worse than
+ever. Sometimes I'd get a bit of tinkering to do,--I'm a pretty fair
+tinker,--or an errand to run, or a pigstye to clean out; sometimes I
+did--oh, I hardly know what. And then at last, one day------”
+
+The slender, brown hand clenched itself suddenly on the table, and
+Gemma, raising her head, glanced at him anxiously. His side-face was
+turned towards her, and she could see a vein on the temple beating like
+a hammer, with quick, irregular strokes. She bent forward and laid a
+gentle hand on his arm.
+
+“Never mind the rest; it's almost too horrible to talk about.”
+
+He stared doubtfully at the hand, shook his head, and went on steadily:
+
+“Then one day I met a travelling variety show. You remember that one the
+other night; well, that sort of thing, only coarser and more indecent.
+The Zambos are not like these gentle Florentines; they don't care for
+anything that is not foul or brutal. There was bull-fighting, too, of
+course. They had camped out by the roadside for the night; and I went up
+to their tent to beg. Well, the weather was hot and I was half starved,
+and so--I fainted at the door of the tent. I had a trick of fainting
+suddenly at that time, like a boarding-school girl with tight stays. So
+they took me in and gave me brandy, and food, and so on; and then--the
+next morning--they offered me----”
+
+Another pause.
+
+“They wanted a hunchback, or monstrosity of some kind; for the boys
+to pelt with orange-peel and banana-skins--something to set the blacks
+laughing------ You saw the clown that night--well, I was that--for
+two years. I suppose you have a humanitarian feeling about negroes and
+Chinese. Wait till you've been at their mercy!
+
+“Well, I learned to do the tricks. I was not quite deformed enough; but
+they set that right with an artificial hump and made the most of
+this foot and arm---- And the Zambos are not critical; they're easily
+satisfied if only they can get hold of some live thing to torture--the
+fool's dress makes a good deal of difference, too.
+
+“The only difficulty was that I was so often ill and unable to play.
+Sometimes, if the manager was out of temper, he would insist on my
+coming into the ring when I had these attacks on; and I believe the
+people liked those evenings best. Once, I remember, I fainted right off
+with the pain in the middle of the performance---- When I came to my
+senses again, the audience had got round me--hooting and yelling and
+pelting me with------”
+
+“Don't! I can't hear any more! Stop, for God's sake!”
+
+She was standing up with both hands over her ears. He broke off, and,
+looking up, saw the glitter of tears in her eyes.
+
+“Damn it all, what an idiot I am!” he said under his breath.
+
+She crossed the room and stood for a little while looking out of the
+window. When she turned round, the Gadfly was again leaning on the table
+and covering his eyes with one hand. He had evidently forgotten her
+presence, and she sat down beside him without speaking. After a long
+silence she said slowly:
+
+“I want to ask you a question.”
+
+“Yes?” without moving.
+
+“Why did you not cut your throat?”
+
+He looked up in grave surprise. “I did not expect YOU to ask that,” he
+said. “And what about my work? Who would have done it for me?”
+
+“Your work---- Ah, I see! You talked just now about being a coward;
+well, if you have come through that and kept to your purpose, you are
+the very bravest man that I have ever met.”
+
+He covered his eyes again, and held her hand in a close passionate
+clasp. A silence that seemed to have no end fell around them.
+
+Suddenly a clear and fresh soprano voice rang out from the garden below,
+singing a verse of a doggerel French song:
+
+
+  “Eh, Pierrot! Danse, Pierrot!
+   Danse un peu, mon pauvre Jeannot!
+   Vive la danse et l'allegresse!
+   Jouissons de notre bell' jeunesse!
+   Si moi je pleure ou moi je soupire,
+   Si moi je fais la triste figure--
+   Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!
+   Ha! Ha, ha, ha!
+   Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!”
+
+
+At the first words the Gadfly tore his hand from Gemma's and shrank away
+with a stifled groan. She clasped both hands round his arm and pressed
+it firmly, as she might have pressed that of a person undergoing a
+surgical operation. When the song broke off and a chorus of laughter and
+applause came from the garden, he looked up with the eyes of a tortured
+animal.
+
+“Yes, it is Zita,” he said slowly; “with her officer friends. She tried
+to come in here the other night, before Riccardo came. I should have
+gone mad if she had touched me!”
+
+“But she does not know,” Gemma protested softly. “She cannot guess that
+she is hurting you.”
+
+“She is like a Creole,” he answered, shuddering. “Do you remember her
+face that night when we brought in the beggar-child? That is how the
+half-castes look when they laugh.”
+
+Another burst of laughter came from the garden. Gemma rose and opened
+the window. Zita, with a gold-embroidered scarf wound coquettishly
+round her head, was standing in the garden path, holding up a bunch
+of violets, for the possession of which three young cavalry officers
+appeared to be competing.
+
+“Mme. Reni!” said Gemma.
+
+Zita's face darkened like a thunder-cloud. “Madame?” she said, turning
+and raising her eyes with a defiant look.
+
+“Would your friends mind speaking a little more softly? Signor Rivarez
+is very unwell.”
+
+The gipsy flung down her violets. “Allez-vous en!” she said, turning
+sharply on the astonished officers. “Vous m'embetez, messieurs!”
+
+She went slowly out into the road. Gemma closed the window.
+
+“They have gone away,” she said, turning to him.
+
+“Thank you. I--I am sorry to have troubled you.”
+
+“It was no trouble.” He at once detected the hesitation in her voice.
+
+“'But?'” he said. “That sentence was not finished, signora; there was an
+unspoken 'but' in the back of your mind.”
+
+“If you look into the backs of people's minds, you mustn't be offended
+at what you read there. It is not my affair, of course, but I cannot
+understand----”
+
+“My aversion to Mme. Reni? It is only when----”
+
+“No, your caring to live with her when you feel that aversion. It seems
+to me an insult to her as a woman and as----”
+
+“A woman!” He burst out laughing harshly. “Is THAT what you call a
+woman? 'Madame, ce n'est que pour rire!'”
+
+“That is not fair!” she said. “You have no right to speak of her in that
+way to anyone--especially to another woman!”
+
+He turned away, and lay with wide-open eyes, looking out of the window
+at the sinking sun. She lowered the blind and closed the shutters, that
+he might not see it set; then sat down at the table by the other window
+and took up her knitting again.
+
+“Would you like the lamp?” she asked after a moment.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+When it grew too dark to see, Gemma rolled up her knitting and laid
+it in the basket. For some time she sat with folded hands, silently
+watching the Gadfly's motionless figure. The dim evening light, falling
+on his face, seemed to soften away its hard, mocking, self-assertive
+look, and to deepen the tragic lines about the mouth. By some fanciful
+association of ideas her memory went vividly back to the stone cross
+which her father had set up in memory of Arthur, and to its inscription:
+
+
+  “All thy waves and billows have gone over me.”
+
+
+An hour passed in unbroken silence. At last she rose and went softly out
+of the room. Coming back with a lamp, she paused for a moment, thinking
+that the Gadfly was asleep. As the light fell on his face he turned
+round.
+
+“I have made you a cup of coffee,” she said, setting down the lamp.
+
+“Put it down a minute. Will you come here, please.”
+
+He took both her hands in his.
+
+“I have been thinking,” he said. “You are quite right; it is an ugly
+tangle I have got my life into. But remember, a man does not meet every
+day a woman whom he can--love; and I--I have been in deep waters. I am
+afraid----”
+
+“Afraid----”
+
+“Of the dark. Sometimes I DARE not be alone at night. I must have
+something living--something solid beside me. It is the outer darkness,
+where shall be---- No, no! It's not that; that's a sixpenny toy
+hell;--it's the INNER darkness. There's no weeping or gnashing of teeth
+there; only silence--silence----”
+
+His eyes dilated. She was quite still, hardly breathing till he spoke
+again.
+
+“This is all mystification to you, isn't it? You can't
+understand--luckily for you. What I mean is that I have a pretty fair
+chance of going mad if I try to live quite alone---- Don't think too
+hardly of me, if you can help it; I am not altogether the vicious brute
+you perhaps imagine me to be.”
+
+“I cannot try to judge for you,” she answered. “I have not suffered as
+you have. But--I have been in rather deep water too, in another way; and
+I think--I am sure--that if you let the fear of anything drive you to
+do a really cruel or unjust or ungenerous thing, you will regret it
+afterwards. For the rest--if you have failed in this one thing, I know
+that I, in your place, should have failed altogether,--should have
+cursed God and died.”
+
+He still kept her hands in his.
+
+“Tell me,” he said very softly; “have you ever in your life done a
+really cruel thing?”
+
+She did not answer, but her head sank down, and two great tears fell on
+his hand.
+
+“Tell me!” he whispered passionately, clasping her hands tighter. “Tell
+me! I have told you all my misery.”
+
+“Yes,--once,--long ago. And I did it to the person I loved best in the
+world.”
+
+The hands that clasped hers were trembling violently; but they did not
+loosen their hold.
+
+“He was a comrade,” she went on; “and I believed a slander against
+him,--a common glaring lie that the police had invented. I struck him in
+the face for a traitor; and he went away and drowned himself. Then, two
+days later, I found out that he had been quite innocent. Perhaps that is
+a worse memory than any of yours. I would cut off my right hand to undo
+what it has done.”
+
+Something swift and dangerous--something that she had not seen
+before,--flashed into his eyes. He bent his head down with a furtive,
+sudden gesture and kissed the hand.
+
+She drew back with a startled face. “Don't!” she cried out piteously.
+“Please don't ever do that again! You hurt me!”
+
+“Do you think you didn't hurt the man you killed?”
+
+“The man I--killed---- Ah, there is Cesare at the gate at last! I--I
+must go!”
+
+    *****
+
+When Martini came into the room he found the Gadfly lying alone with the
+untouched coffee beside him, swearing softly to himself in a languid,
+spiritless way, as though he got no satisfaction out of it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+A FEW days later, the Gadfly, still rather pale and limping more than
+usual, entered the reading room of the public library and asked for
+Cardinal Montanelli's sermons. Riccardo, who was reading at a table near
+him, looked up. He liked the Gadfly very much, but could not digest this
+one trait in him--this curious personal maliciousness.
+
+“Are you preparing another volley against that unlucky Cardinal?” he
+asked half irritably.
+
+“My dear fellow, why do you a-a-always attribute evil m-m-motives to
+people? It's m-most unchristian. I am preparing an essay on contemporary
+theology for the n-n-new paper.”
+
+“What new paper?” Riccardo frowned. It was perhaps an open secret that
+a new press-law was expected and that the Opposition was preparing to
+astonish the town with a radical newspaper; but still it was, formally,
+a secret.
+
+“The Swindlers' Gazette, of course, or the Church Calendar.”
+
+“Sh-sh! Rivarez, we are disturbing the other readers.”
+
+“Well then, stick to your surgery, if that's your subject, and l-l-leave
+me to th-theology--that's mine. I d-d-don't interfere with your
+treatment of broken bones, though I know a p-p-precious lot more about
+them than you do.”
+
+He sat down to his volume of sermons with an intent and preoccupied
+face. One of the librarians came up to him.
+
+“Signor Rivarez! I think you were in the Duprez expedition, exploring
+the tributaries of the Amazon? Perhaps you will kindly help us in a
+difficulty. A lady has been inquiring for the records of the expedition,
+and they are at the binder's.”
+
+“What does she want to know?”
+
+“Only in what year the expedition started and when it passed through
+Ecuador.”
+
+“It started from Paris in the autumn of 1837, and passed through Quito
+in April, 1838. We were three years in Brazil; then went down to Rio and
+got back to Paris in the summer of 1841. Does the lady want the dates of
+the separate discoveries?”
+
+“No, thank you; only these. I have written them down. Beppo, take this
+paper to Signora Bolla, please. Many thanks, Signor Rivarez. I am sorry
+to have troubled you.”
+
+The Gadfly leaned back in his chair with a perplexed frown. What did she
+want the dates for? When they passed through Ecuador----
+
+Gemma went home with the slip of paper in her hand. April, 1838--and
+Arthur had died in May, 1833. Five years--
+
+She began pacing up and down her room. She had slept badly the last few
+nights, and there were dark shadows under her eyes.
+
+Five years;--and an “overluxurious home”--and “someone he had trusted
+had deceived him”--had deceived him--and he had found it out----
+
+She stopped and put up both hands to her head. Oh, this was utterly
+mad--it was not possible--it was absurd----
+
+And yet, how they had dragged that harbour!
+
+Five years--and he was “not twenty-one” when the Lascar---- Then he must
+have been nineteen when he ran away from home. Had he not said: “A year
+and a half----” Where did he get those blue eyes from, and that
+nervous restlessness of the fingers? And why was he so bitter against
+Montanelli? Five years--five years------
+
+If she could but know that he was drowned--if she could but have seen
+the body; some day, surely, the old wound would have left off aching,
+the old memory would have lost its terrors. Perhaps in another twenty
+years she would have learned to look back without shrinking.
+
+All her youth had been poisoned by the thought of what she had done.
+Resolutely, day after day and year after year, she had fought against
+the demon of remorse. Always she had remembered that her work lay in the
+future; always had shut her eyes and ears to the haunting spectre of the
+past. And day after day, year after year, the image of the drowned body
+drifting out to sea had never left her, and the bitter cry that she
+could not silence had risen in her heart: “I have killed Arthur! Arthur
+is dead!” Sometimes it had seemed to her that her burden was too heavy
+to be borne.
+
+Now she would have given half her life to have that burden back again.
+If she had killed him--that was a familiar grief; she had endured it too
+long to sink under it now. But if she had driven him, not into the water
+but into------ She sat down, covering her eyes with both hands. And her
+life had been darkened for his sake, because he was dead! If she had
+brought upon him nothing worse than death----
+
+Steadily, pitilessly she went back, step by step, through the hell of
+his past life. It was as vivid to her as though she had seen and felt
+it all; the helpless shivering of the naked soul, the mockery that
+was bitterer than death, the horror of loneliness, the slow, grinding,
+relentless agony. It was as vivid as if she had sat beside him in the
+filthy Indian hut; as if she had suffered with him in the silver-mines,
+the coffee fields, the horrible variety show--
+
+The variety show---- No, she must shut out that image, at least; it was
+enough to drive one mad to sit and think of it.
+
+She opened a little drawer in her writing-desk. It contained the few
+personal relics which she could not bring herself to destroy. She
+was not given to the hoarding up of sentimental trifles; and the
+preservation of these keepsakes was a concession to that weaker side of
+her nature which she kept under with so steady a hand. She very seldom
+allowed herself to look at them.
+
+Now she took them out, one after another: Giovanni's first letter to
+her, and the flowers that had lain in his dead hand; a lock of her
+baby's hair and a withered leaf from her father's grave. At the back of
+the drawer was a miniature portrait of Arthur at ten years old--the only
+existing likeness of him.
+
+She sat down with it in her hands and looked at the beautiful childish
+head, till the face of the real Arthur rose up afresh before her. How
+clear it was in every detail! The sensitive lines of the mouth, the
+wide, earnest eyes, the seraphic purity of expression--they were graven
+in upon her memory, as though he had died yesterday. Slowly the blinding
+tears welled up and hid the portrait.
+
+Oh, how could she have thought such a thing! It was like sacrilege even
+to dream of this bright, far-off spirit, bound to the sordid miseries of
+life. Surely the gods had loved him a little, and had let him die young!
+Better a thousand times that he should pass into utter nothingness than
+that he should live and be the Gadfly--the Gadfly, with his faultless
+neckties and his doubtful witticisms, his bitter tongue and his ballet
+girl! No, no! It was all a horrible, senseless fancy; and she had vexed
+her heart with vain imaginings. Arthur was dead.
+
+“May I come in?” asked a soft voice at the door.
+
+She started so that the portrait fell from her hand, and the Gadfly,
+limping across the room, picked it up and handed it to her.
+
+“How you startled me!” she said.
+
+“I am s-so sorry. Perhaps I am disturbing you?”
+
+“No. I was only turning over some old things.”
+
+She hesitated for a moment; then handed him back the miniature.
+
+“What do you think of that head?”
+
+While he looked at it she watched his face as though her life depended
+upon its expression; but it was merely negative and critical.
+
+“You have set me a difficult task,” he said. “The portrait is faded,
+and a child's face is always hard to read. But I should think that child
+would grow into an unlucky man, and the wisest thing he could do would
+be to abstain from growing into a man at all.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Look at the line of the under-lip. Th-th-that is the sort of nature
+that feels pain as pain and wrong as wrong; and the world has no
+r-r-room for such people; it needs people who feel nothing but their
+work.”
+
+“Is it at all like anyone you know?”
+
+He looked at the portrait more closely.
+
+“Yes. What a curious thing! Of course it is; very like.”
+
+“Like whom?”
+
+“C-c-cardinal Montan-nelli. I wonder whether his irreproachable Eminence
+has any nephews, by the way? Who is it, if I may ask?”
+
+“It is a portrait, taken in childhood, of the friend I told you about
+the other day----”
+
+“Whom you killed?”
+
+She winced in spite of herself. How lightly, how cruelly he used that
+dreadful word!
+
+“Yes, whom I killed--if he is really dead.”
+
+“If?”
+
+She kept her eyes on his face.
+
+“I have sometimes doubted,” she said. “The body was never found. He may
+have run away from home, like you, and gone to South America.”
+
+“Let us hope not. That would be a bad memory to carry about with you. I
+have d-d-done some hard fighting in my t-time, and have sent m-more than
+one man to Hades, perhaps; but if I had it on my conscience that I had
+sent any l-living thing to South America, I should sleep badly----”
+
+“Then do you believe,” she interrupted, coming nearer to him with
+clasped hands, “that if he were not drowned,--if he had been through
+your experience instead,--he would never come back and let the past
+go? Do you believe he would NEVER forget? Remember, it has cost me
+something, too. Look!”
+
+She pushed back the heavy waves of hair from her forehead. Through the
+black locks ran a broad white streak.
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+“I think,” the Gadfly said slowly, “that the dead are better dead.
+Forgetting some things is a difficult matter. And if I were in the place
+of your dead friend, I would s-s-stay dead. The REVENANT is an ugly
+spectre.”
+
+She put the portrait back into its drawer and locked the desk.
+
+“That is hard doctrine,” she said. “And now we will talk about something
+else.”
+
+“I came to have a little business talk with you, if I may--a private
+one, about a plan that I have in my head.”
+
+She drew a chair to the table and sat down. “What do you think of the
+projected press-law?” he began, without a trace of his usual stammer.
+
+“What I think of it? I think it will not be of much value, but half a
+loaf is better than no bread.”
+
+“Undoubtedly. Then do you intend to work on one of the new papers these
+good folk here are preparing to start?”
+
+“I thought of doing so. There is always a great deal of practical work
+to be done in starting any paper--printing and circulation arrangements
+and----”
+
+“How long are you going to waste your mental gifts in that fashion?”
+
+“Why 'waste'?”
+
+“Because it is waste. You know quite well that you have a far better
+head than most of the men you are working with, and you let them make a
+regular drudge and Johannes factotum of you. Intellectually you are as
+far ahead of Grassini and Galli as if they were schoolboys; yet you sit
+correcting their proofs like a printer's devil.”
+
+“In the first place, I don't spend all my time in correcting proofs; and
+moreover it seems to me that you exaggerate my mental capacities. They
+are by no means so brilliant as you think.”
+
+“I don't think them brilliant at all,” he answered quietly; “but I do
+think them sound and solid, which is of much more importance. At those
+dreary committee meetings it is always you who put your finger on the
+weak spot in everybody's logic.”
+
+“You are not fair to the others. Martini, for instance, has a very
+logical head, and there is no doubt about the capacities of Fabrizi
+and Lega. Then Grassini has a sounder knowledge of Italian economic
+statistics than any official in the country, perhaps.”
+
+“Well, that's not saying much; but let us lay them and their capacities
+aside. The fact remains that you, with such gifts as you possess,
+might do more important work and fill a more responsible post than at
+present.”
+
+“I am quite satisfied with my position. The work I am doing is not of
+very much value, perhaps, but we all do what we can.”
+
+“Signora Bolla, you and I have gone too far to play at compliments and
+modest denials now. Tell me honestly, do you recognize that you are
+using up your brain on work which persons inferior to you could do as
+well?”
+
+“Since you press me for an answer--yes, to some extent.”
+
+“Then why do you let that go on?”
+
+No answer.
+
+“Why do you let it go on?”
+
+“Because--I can't help it.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+She looked up reproachfully. “That is unkind--it's not fair to press me
+so.”
+
+“But all the same you are going to tell me why.”
+
+“If you must have it, then--because my life has been smashed into
+pieces, and I have not the energy to start anything REAL, now. I
+am about fit to be a revolutionary cab-horse, and do the party's
+drudge-work. At least I do it conscientiously, and it must be done by
+somebody.”
+
+“Certainly it must be done by somebody; but not always by the same
+person.”
+
+“It's about all I'm fit for.”
+
+He looked at her with half-shut eyes, inscrutably. Presently she raised
+her head.
+
+“We are returning to the old subject; and this was to be a business
+talk. It is quite useless, I assure you, to tell me I might have done
+all sorts of things. I shall never do them now. But I may be able to
+help you in thinking out your plan. What is it?”
+
+“You begin by telling me that it is useless for me to suggest anything,
+and then ask what I want to suggest. My plan requires your help in
+action, not only in thinking out.”
+
+“Let me hear it and then we will discuss.”
+
+“Tell me first whether you have heard anything about schemes for a
+rising in Venetia.”
+
+“I have heard of nothing but schemes for risings and Sanfedist plots
+ever since the amnesty, and I fear I am as sceptical about the one as
+about the other.”
+
+“So am I, in most cases; but I am speaking of really serious
+preparations for a rising of the whole province against the Austrians.
+A good many young fellows in the Papal States--particularly in the
+Four Legations--are secretly preparing to get across there and join as
+volunteers. And I hear from my friends in the Romagna----”
+
+“Tell me,” she interrupted, “are you quite sure that these friends of
+yours can be trusted?”
+
+“Quite sure. I know them personally, and have worked with them.”
+
+“That is, they are members of the 'sect' to which you belong? Forgive
+my scepticism, but I am always a little doubtful as to the accuracy
+of information received from secret societies. It seems to me that the
+habit----”
+
+“Who told you I belonged to a 'sect'?” he interrupted sharply.
+
+“No one; I guessed it.”
+
+“Ah!” He leaned back in his chair and looked at her, frowning. “Do you
+always guess people's private affairs?” he said after a moment.
+
+“Very often. I am rather observant, and have a habit of putting things
+together. I tell you that so that you may be careful when you don't want
+me to know a thing.”
+
+“I don't mind your knowing anything so long as it goes no further. I
+suppose this has not----”
+
+She lifted her head with a gesture of half-offended surprise. “Surely
+that is an unnecessary question!” she said.
+
+“Of course I know you would not speak of anything to outsiders; but I
+thought that perhaps, to the members of your party----”
+
+“The party's business is with facts, not with my personal conjectures
+and fancies. Of course I have never mentioned the subject to anyone.”
+
+“Thank you. Do you happen to have guessed which sect I belong to?”
+
+“I hope--you must not take offence at my frankness; it was you who
+started this talk, you know---- I do hope it is not the 'Knifers.'”
+
+“Why do you hope that?”
+
+“Because you are fit for better things.”
+
+“We are all fit for better things than we ever do. There is your own
+answer back again. However, it is not the 'Knifers' that I belong to,
+but the 'Red Girdles.' They are a steadier lot, and take their work more
+seriously.”
+
+“Do you mean the work of knifing?”
+
+“That, among other things. Knives are very useful in their way; but only
+when you have a good, organized propaganda behind them. That is what I
+dislike in the other sect. They think a knife can settle all the world's
+difficulties; and that's a mistake. It can settle a good many, but not
+all.”
+
+“Do you honestly believe that it settles any?”
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+“Of course,” she went on, “it eliminates, for the moment, the practical
+difficulty caused by the presence of a clever spy or objectionable
+official; but whether it does not create worse difficulties in place of
+the one removed is another question. It seems to me like the parable of
+the swept and garnished house and the seven devils. Every assassination
+only makes the police more vicious and the people more accustomed to
+violence and brutality, and the last state of the community may be worse
+than the first.”
+
+“What do you think will happen when the revolution comes? Do you suppose
+the people won't have to get accustomed to violence then? War is war.”
+
+“Yes, but open revolution is another matter. It is one moment in the
+people's life, and it is the price we have to pay for all our progress.
+No doubt fearful things will happen; they must in every revolution.
+But they will be isolated facts--exceptional features of an exceptional
+moment. The horrible thing about this promiscuous knifing is that
+it becomes a habit. The people get to look upon it as an every-day
+occurrence, and their sense of the sacredness of human life gets
+blunted. I have not been much in the Romagna, but what little I have
+seen of the people has given me the impression that they have got, or
+are getting, into a mechanical habit of violence.”
+
+“Surely even that is better than a mechanical habit of obedience and
+submission.”
+
+“I don't think so. All mechanical habits are bad and slavish, and this
+one is ferocious as well. Of course, if you look upon the work of the
+revolutionist as the mere wresting of certain definite concessions from
+the government, then the secret sect and the knife must seem to you the
+best weapons, for there is nothing else which all governments so dread.
+But if you think, as I do, that to force the government's hand is not an
+end in itself, but only a means to an end, and that what we really
+need to reform is the relation between man and man, then you must go
+differently to work. Accustoming ignorant people to the sight of blood
+is not the way to raise the value they put on human life.”
+
+“And the value they put on religion?”
+
+“I don't understand.”
+
+He smiled.
+
+“I think we differ as to where the root of the mischief lies. You place
+it in a lack of appreciation of the value of human life.”
+
+“Rather of the sacredness of human personality.”
+
+“Put it as you like. To me the great cause of our muddles and mistakes
+seems to lie in the mental disease called religion.”
+
+“Do you mean any religion in particular?”
+
+“Oh, no! That is a mere question of external symptoms. The disease
+itself is what is called a religious attitude of mind. It is the
+morbid desire to set up a fetich and adore it, to fall down and worship
+something. It makes little difference whether the something be Jesus or
+Buddha or a tum-tum tree. You don't agree with me, of course. You may be
+atheist or agnostic or anything you like, but I could feel the religious
+temperament in you at five yards. However, it is of no use for us to
+discuss that. But you are quite mistaken in thinking that I, for one,
+look upon the knifing as merely a means of removing objectionable
+officials--it is, above all, a means, and I think the best means, of
+undermining the prestige of the Church and of accustoming people to look
+upon clerical agents as upon any other vermin.”
+
+“And when you have accomplished that; when you have roused the wild
+beast that sleeps in the people and set it on the Church; then----”
+
+“Then I shall have done the work that makes it worth my while to live.”
+
+“Is THAT the work you spoke of the other day?”
+
+“Yes, just that.”
+
+She shivered and turned away.
+
+“You are disappointed in me?” he said, looking up with a smile.
+
+“No; not exactly that. I am--I think--a little afraid of you.”
+
+She turned round after a moment and said in her ordinary business voice:
+
+“This is an unprofitable discussion. Our standpoints are too different.
+For my part, I believe in propaganda, propaganda, and propaganda; and
+when you can get it, open insurrection.”
+
+“Then let us come back to the question of my plan; it has something to
+do with propaganda and more with insurrection.”
+
+“Yes?”
+
+“As I tell you, a good many volunteers are going from the Romagna to
+join the Venetians. We do not know yet how soon the insurrection will
+break out. It may not be till the autumn or winter; but the volunteers
+in the Apennines must be armed and ready, so that they may be able to
+start for the plains directly they are sent for. I have undertaken to
+smuggle the firearms and ammunition on to Papal territory for them----”
+
+“Wait a minute. How do you come to be working with that set? The
+revolutionists in Lombardy and Venetia are all in favour of the new
+Pope. They are going in for liberal reforms, hand in hand with
+the progressive movement in the Church. How can a 'no-compromise'
+anti-clerical like you get on with them?”
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. “What is it to me if they like to amuse
+themselves with a rag-doll, so long as they do their work? Of course
+they will take the Pope for a figurehead. What have I to do with that,
+if only the insurrection gets under way somehow? Any stick will do
+to beat a dog with, I suppose, and any cry to set the people on the
+Austrians.”
+
+“What is it you want me to do?”
+
+“Chiefly to help me get the firearms across.”
+
+“But how could I do that?”
+
+“You are just the person who could do it best. I think of buying the
+arms in England, and there is a good deal of difficulty about bringing
+them over. It's impossible to get them through any of the Pontifical
+sea-ports; they must come by Tuscany, and go across the Apennines.”
+
+“That makes two frontiers to cross instead of one.”
+
+“Yes; but the other way is hopeless; you can't smuggle a big transport
+in at a harbour where there is no trade, and you know the whole shipping
+of Civita Vecchia amounts to about three row-boats and a fishing
+smack. If we once get the things across Tuscany, I can manage the Papal
+frontier; my men know every path in the mountains, and we have plenty of
+hiding-places. The transport must come by sea to Leghorn, and that is
+my great difficulty; I am not in with the smugglers there, and I believe
+you are.”
+
+“Give me five minutes to think.”
+
+She leaned forward, resting one elbow on her knee, and supporting the
+chin on the raised hand. After a few moments' silence she looked up.
+
+“It is possible that I might be of some use in that part of the work,”
+ she said; “but before we go any further, I want to ask you a question.
+Can you give me your word that this business is not connected with any
+stabbing or secret violence of any kind?”
+
+“Certainly. It goes without saying that I should not have asked you to
+join in a thing of which I know you disapprove.”
+
+“When do you want a definite answer from me?”
+
+“There is not much time to lose; but I can give you a few days to decide
+in.”
+
+“Are you free next Saturday evening?”
+
+“Let me see--to-day is Thursday; yes.”
+
+“Then come here. I will think the matter over and give you a final
+answer.”
+
+    *****
+
+On the following Sunday Gemma sent in to the committee of the Florentine
+branch of the Mazzinian party a statement that she wished to undertake a
+special work of a political nature, which would for a few months prevent
+her from performing the functions for which she had up till now been
+responsible to the party.
+
+Some surprise was felt at this announcement, but the committee raised no
+objection; she had been known in the party for several years as a person
+whose judgment might be trusted; and the members agreed that if Signora
+Bolla took an unexpected step, she probably had good reasons for it.
+
+To Martini she said frankly that she had undertaken to help the Gadfly
+with some “frontier work.” She had stipulated for the right to tell her
+old friend this much, in order that there might be no misunderstanding
+or painful sense of doubt and mystery between them. It seemed to her
+that she owed him this proof of confidence. He made no comment when she
+told him; but she saw, without knowing why, that the news had wounded
+him deeply.
+
+They were sitting on the terrace of her lodging, looking out over the
+red roofs to Fiesole. After a long silence, Martini rose and began
+tramping up and down with his hands in his pockets, whistling to
+himself--a sure sign with him of mental agitation. She sat looking at
+him for a little while.
+
+“Cesare, you are worried about this affair,” she said at last. “I am
+very sorry you feel so despondent over it; but I could decide only as
+seemed right to me.”
+
+“It is not the affair,” he answered, sullenly; “I know nothing about
+it, and it probably is all right, once you have consented to go into it.
+It's the MAN I distrust.”
+
+“I think you misunderstand him; I did till I got to know him better. He
+is far from perfect, but there is much more good in him than you think.”
+
+“Very likely.” For a moment he tramped to and fro in silence, then
+suddenly stopped beside her.
+
+“Gemma, give it up! Give it up before it is too late! Don't let that man
+drag you into things you will repent afterwards.”
+
+“Cesare,” she said gently, “you are not thinking what you are saying.
+No one is dragging me into anything. I have made this decision of my
+own will, after thinking the matter well over alone. You have a personal
+dislike to Rivarez, I know; but we are talking of politics now, not of
+persons.”
+
+“Madonna! Give it up! That man is dangerous; he is secret, and cruel,
+and unscrupulous--and he is in love with you!”
+
+She drew back.
+
+“Cesare, how can you get such fancies into your head?”
+
+“He is in love with you,” Martini repeated. “Keep clear of him,
+Madonna!”
+
+“Dear Cesare, I can't keep clear of him; and I can't explain to you why.
+We are tied together--not by any wish or doing of our own.”
+
+“If you are tied, there is nothing more to say,” Martini answered
+wearily.
+
+He went away, saying that he was busy, and tramped for hours up and down
+the muddy streets. The world looked very black to him that evening. One
+poor ewe-lamb--and this slippery creature had stepped in and stolen it
+away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+TOWARDS the middle of February the Gadfly went to Leghorn. Gemma had
+introduced him to a young Englishman there, a shipping-agent of liberal
+views, whom she and her husband had known in England. He had on several
+occasions performed little services for the Florentine radicals: had
+lent money to meet an unforeseen emergency, had allowed his business
+address to be used for the party's letters, etc.; but always through
+Gemma's mediumship, and as a private friend of hers. She was, therefore,
+according to party etiquette, free to make use of the connexion in any
+way that might seem good to her. Whether any use could be got out of it
+was quite another question. To ask a friendly sympathizer to lend his
+address for letters from Sicily or to keep a few documents in a corner
+of his counting-house safe was one thing; to ask him to smuggle over a
+transport of firearms for an insurrection was another; and she had very
+little hope of his consenting.
+
+“You can but try,” she had said to the Gadfly; “but I don't think
+anything will come of it. If you were to go to him with that
+recommendation and ask for five hundred scudi, I dare say he'd give them
+to you at once--he's exceedingly generous,--and perhaps at a pinch he
+would lend you his passport or hide a fugitive in his cellar; but if you
+mention such a thing as rifles he will stare at you and think we're both
+demented.”
+
+“Perhaps he may give me a few hints, though, or introduce me to a
+friendly sailor or two,” the Gadfly had answered. “Anyway, it's worth
+while to try.”
+
+One day at the end of the month he came into her study less carefully
+dressed than usual, and she saw at once from his face that he had good
+news to tell.
+
+“Ah, at last! I was beginning to think something must have happened to
+you!”
+
+“I thought it safer not to write, and I couldn't get back sooner.”
+
+“You have just arrived?”
+
+“Yes; I am straight from the diligence; I looked in to tell you that the
+affair is all settled.”
+
+“Do you mean that Bailey has really consented to help?”
+
+“More than to help; he has undertaken the whole thing,--packing,
+transports,--everything. The rifles will be hidden in bales of
+merchandise and will come straight through from England. His partner,
+Williams, who is a great friend of his, has consented to see the
+transport off from Southampton, and Bailey will slip it through the
+custom house at Leghorn. That is why I have been such a long time;
+Williams was just starting for Southampton, and I went with him as far
+as Genoa.”
+
+“To talk over details on the way?”
+
+“Yes, as long as I wasn't too sea-sick to talk about anything.”
+
+“Are you a bad sailor?” she asked quickly, remembering how Arthur had
+suffered from sea-sickness one day when her father had taken them both
+for a pleasure-trip.
+
+“About as bad as is possible, in spite of having been at sea so much.
+But we had a talk while they were loading at Genoa. You know Williams,
+I think? He's a thoroughly good fellow, trustworthy and sensible; so is
+Bailey, for that matter; and they both know how to hold their tongues.”
+
+“It seems to me, though, that Bailey is running a serious risk in doing
+a thing like this.”
+
+“So I told him, and he only looked sulky and said: 'What business is
+that of yours?' Just the sort of thing one would expect him to say. If
+I met Bailey in Timbuctoo, I should go up to him and say: 'Good-morning,
+Englishman.'”
+
+“But I can't conceive how you managed to get their consent; Williams,
+too; the last man I should have thought of.”
+
+“Yes, he objected strongly at first; not on the ground of danger,
+though, but because the thing is 'so unbusiness-like.' But I managed to
+win him over after a bit. And now we will go into details.”
+
+    *****
+
+When the Gadfly reached his lodgings the sun had set, and the blossoming
+pyrus japonica that hung over the garden wall looked dark in the fading
+light. He gathered a few sprays and carried them into the house. As he
+opened the study door, Zita started up from a chair in the corner and
+ran towards him.
+
+“Oh, Felice; I thought you were never coming!”
+
+His first impulse was to ask her sharply what business she had in his
+study; but, remembering that he had not seen her for three weeks, he
+held out his hand and said, rather frigidly:
+
+“Good-evening, Zita; how are you?”
+
+She put up her face to be kissed, but he moved past as though he had
+not seen the gesture, and took up a vase to put the pyrus in. The next
+instant the door was flung wide open, and the collie, rushing into the
+room, performed an ecstatic dance round him, barking and whining with
+delight. He put down the flowers and stooped to pat the dog.
+
+“Well, Shaitan, how are you, old man? Yes, it's really I. Shake hands,
+like a good dog!”
+
+The hard, sullen look came into Zita's face.
+
+“Shall we go to dinner?” she asked coldly. “I ordered it for you at my
+place, as you wrote that you were coming this evening.”
+
+He turned round quickly.
+
+“I am v-v-very sorry; you sh-should not have waited for me! I will just
+get a bit tidy and come round at once. P-perhaps you would not mind
+putting these into water.”
+
+When he came into Zita's dining room she was standing before a mirror,
+fastening one of the sprays into her dress. She had apparently made up
+her mind to be good-humoured, and came up to him with a little cluster
+of crimson buds tied together.
+
+“Here is a buttonhole for you; let me put it in your coat.”
+
+All through dinner-time he did his best to be amiable, and kept up a
+flow of small-talk, to which she responded with radiant smiles. Her
+evident joy at his return somewhat embarrassed him; he had grown so
+accustomed to the idea that she led her own life apart from his, among
+such friends and companions as were congenial to her, that it had never
+occurred to him to imagine her as missing him. And yet she must have
+felt dull to be so much excited now.
+
+“Let us have coffee up on the terrace,” she said; “it is quite warm this
+evening.”
+
+“Very well. Shall I take your guitar? Perhaps you will sing.”
+
+She flushed with delight; he was critical about music and did not often
+ask her to sing.
+
+On the terrace was a broad wooden bench running round the walls. The
+Gadfly chose a corner with a good view of the hills, and Zita, seating
+herself on the low wall with her feet on the bench, leaned back against
+a pillar of the roof. She did not care much for scenery; she preferred
+to look at the Gadfly.
+
+“Give me a cigarette,” she said. “I don't believe I have smoked once
+since you went away.”
+
+“Happy thought! It's just s-s-smoke I want to complete my bliss.”
+
+She leaned forward and looked at him earnestly.
+
+“Are you really happy?”
+
+The Gadfly's mobile brows went up.
+
+“Yes; why not? I have had a good dinner; I am looking at one of the
+m-most beautiful views in Europe; and now I'm going to have coffee and
+hear a Hungarian folk-song. There is nothing the matter with either my
+conscience or my digestion; what more can man desire?”
+
+“I know another thing you desire.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“That!” She tossed a little cardboard box into his hand.
+
+“B-burnt almonds! Why d-didn't you tell me before I began to s-smoke?”
+ he cried reproachfully.
+
+“Why, you baby! you can eat them when you have done smoking. There comes
+the coffee.”
+
+The Gadfly sipped his coffee and ate his burnt almonds with the grave
+and concentrated enjoyment of a cat drinking cream.
+
+“How nice it is to come back to d-decent coffee, after the s-s-stuff one
+gets at Leghorn!” he said in his purring drawl.
+
+“A very good reason for stopping at home now you are here.”
+
+“Not much stopping for me; I'm off again to-morrow.”
+
+The smile died on her face.
+
+“To-morrow! What for? Where are you going to?”
+
+“Oh! two or three p-p-places, on business.”
+
+It had been decided between him and Gemma that he must go in person into
+the Apennines to make arrangements with the smugglers of the frontier
+region about the transporting of the firearms. To cross the Papal
+frontier was for him a matter of serious danger; but it had to be done
+if the work was to succeed.
+
+“Always business!” Zita sighed under her breath; and then asked aloud:
+
+“Shall you be gone long?”
+
+“No; only a fortnight or three weeks, p-p-probably.”
+
+“I suppose it's some of THAT business?” she asked abruptly.
+
+“'That' business?”
+
+“The business you're always trying to get your neck broken over--the
+everlasting politics.”
+
+“It has something to do with p-p-politics.”
+
+Zita threw away her cigarette.
+
+“You are fooling me,” she said. “You are going into some danger or
+other.”
+
+“I'm going s-s-straight into the infernal regions,” he answered
+languidly. “D-do you happen to have any friends there you want to send
+that ivy to? You n-needn't pull it all down, though.”
+
+She had fiercely torn off a handful of the climber from the pillar, and
+now flung it down with vehement anger.
+
+“You are going into danger,” she repeated; “and you won't even say so
+honestly! Do you think I am fit for nothing but to be fooled and joked
+with? You will get yourself hanged one of these days, and never so
+much as say good-bye. It's always politics and politics--I'm sick of
+politics!”
+
+“S-so am I,” said the Gadfly, yawning lazily; “and therefore we'll talk
+about something else--unless you will sing.”
+
+“Well, give me the guitar, then. What shall I sing?”
+
+“The ballad of the lost horse; it suits your voice so well.”
+
+She began to sing the old Hungarian ballad of the man who loses first
+his horse, then his home, and then his sweetheart, and consoles himself
+with the reflection that “more was lost at Mohacz field.” The song was
+one of the Gadfly's especial favourites; its fierce and tragic melody
+and the bitter stoicism of the refrain appealed to him as no softer
+music ever did.
+
+Zita was in excellent voice; the notes came from her lips strong and
+clear, full of the vehement desire of life. She would have sung Italian
+or Slavonic music badly, and German still worse; but she sang the Magyar
+folk-songs splendidly.
+
+The Gadfly listened with wide-open eyes and parted lips; he had never
+heard her sing like this before. As she came to the last line, her voice
+began suddenly to shake.
+
+
+     “Ah, no matter! More was lost----”
+
+
+She broke down with a sob and hid her face among the ivy leaves.
+
+“Zita!” The Gadfly rose and took the guitar from her hand. “What is it?”
+
+She only sobbed convulsively, hiding her face in both hands. He touched
+her on the arm.
+
+“Tell me what is the matter,” he said caressingly.
+
+“Let me alone!” she sobbed, shrinking away. “Let me alone!”
+
+He went quietly back to his seat and waited till the sobs died away.
+Suddenly he felt her arms about his neck; she was kneeling on the floor
+beside him.
+
+“Felice--don't go! Don't go away!”
+
+“We will talk about that afterwards,” he said, gently extricating
+himself from the clinging arms. “Tell me first what has upset you so.
+Has anything been frightening you?”
+
+She silently shook her head.
+
+“Have I done anything to hurt you?”
+
+“No.” She put a hand up against his throat.
+
+“What, then?”
+
+“You will get killed,” she whispered at last. “I heard one of those men
+that come here say the other day that you will get into trouble--and
+when I ask you about it you laugh at me!”
+
+“My dear child,” the Gadfly said, after a little pause of astonishment,
+“you have got some exaggerated notion into your head. Very likely I
+shall get killed some day--that is the natural consequence of being a
+revolutionist. But there is no reason to suppose I am g-g-going to get
+killed just now. I am running no more risk than other people.”
+
+“Other people--what are other people to me? If you loved me you wouldn't
+go off this way and leave me to lie awake at night, wondering whether
+you're arrested, or dream you are dead whenever I go to sleep. You don't
+care as much for me as for that dog there!”
+
+The Gadfly rose and walked slowly to the other end of the terrace.
+He was quite unprepared for such a scene as this and at a loss how to
+answer her. Yes, Gemma was right; he had got his life into a tangle that
+he would have hard work to undo.
+
+“Sit down and let us talk about it quietly,” he said, coming back after
+a moment. “I think we have misunderstood each other; of course I should
+not have laughed if I had thought you were serious. Try to tell
+me plainly what is troubling you; and then, if there is any
+misunderstanding, we may be able to clear it up.”
+
+“There's nothing to clear up. I can see you don't care a brass farthing
+for me.”
+
+“My dear child, we had better be quite frank with each other. I have
+always tried to be honest about our relationship, and I think I have
+never deceived you as to----”
+
+“Oh, no! you have been honest enough; you have never even pretended
+to think of me as anything else but a prostitute,--a trumpery bit of
+second-hand finery that plenty of other men have had before you--”
+
+“Hush, Zita! I have never thought that way about any living thing.”
+
+“You have never loved me,” she insisted sullenly.
+
+“No, I have never loved you. Listen to me, and try to think as little
+harm of me as you can.”
+
+“Who said I thought any harm of you? I----”
+
+“Wait a minute. This is what I want to say: I have no belief whatever in
+conventional moral codes, and no respect for them. To me the relations
+between men and women are simply questions of personal likes and
+dislikes------”
+
+“And of money,” she interrupted with a harsh little laugh. He winced and
+hesitated a moment.
+
+“That, of course, is the ugly part of the matter. But believe me, if I
+had thought that you disliked me, or felt any repulsion to the thing,
+I would never have suggested it, or taken advantage of your position to
+persuade you to it. I have never done that to any woman in my life, and
+I have never told a woman a lie about my feeling for her. You may trust
+me that I am speaking the truth----”
+
+He paused a moment, but she did not answer.
+
+“I thought,” he went on; “that if a man is alone in the world and feels
+the need of--of a woman's presence about him, and if he can find a woman
+who is attractive to him and to whom he is not repulsive, he has a right
+to accept, in a grateful and friendly spirit, such pleasure as that
+woman is willing to give him, without entering into any closer bond. I
+saw no harm in the thing, provided only there is no unfairness or insult
+or deceit on either side. As for your having been in that relation with
+other men before I met you, I did not think about that. I merely thought
+that the connexion would be a pleasant and harmless one for both of us,
+and that either was free to break it as soon as it became irksome. If I
+was mistaken--if you have grown to look upon it differently--then----”
+
+He paused again.
+
+“Then?” she whispered, without looking up.
+
+“Then I have done you a wrong, and I am very sorry. But I did not mean
+to do it.”
+
+“You 'did not mean' and you 'thought'----Felice, are you made of cast
+iron? Have you never been in love with a woman in your life that you
+can't see I love you?”
+
+A sudden thrill went through him; it was so long since anyone had said
+to him: “I love you.” Instantly she started up and flung her arms round
+him.
+
+“Felice, come away with me! Come away from this dreadful country and all
+these people and their politics! What have we got to do with them? Come
+away, and we will be happy together. Let us go to South America, where
+you used to live.”
+
+The physical horror of association startled him back into self-control;
+he unclasped her hands from his neck and held them in a steady grasp.
+
+“Zita! Try to understand what I am saying to you. I do not love you; and
+if I did I would not come away with you. I have my work in Italy, and my
+comrades----”
+
+“And someone else that you love better than me!” she cried out fiercely.
+“Oh, I could kill you! It is not your comrades you care about; it's----
+I know who it is!”
+
+“Hush!” he said quietly. “You are excited and imagining things that are
+not true.”
+
+“You suppose I am thinking of Signora Bolla? I'm not so easily duped!
+You only talk politics with her; you care no more for her than you do
+for me. It's that Cardinal!”
+
+The Gadfly started as if he had been shot.
+
+“Cardinal?” he repeated mechanically.
+
+“Cardinal Montanelli, that came here preaching in the autumn. Do you
+think I didn't see your face when his carriage passed? You were as white
+as my pocket-handkerchief! Why, you're shaking like a leaf now because I
+mentioned his name!”
+
+He stood up.
+
+“You don't know what you are talking about,” he said very slowly and
+softly. “I--hate the Cardinal. He is the worst enemy I have.”
+
+“Enemy or no, you love him better than you love anyone else in the
+world. Look me in the face and say that is not true, if you can!”
+
+He turned away, and looked out into the garden. She watched him
+furtively, half-scared at what she had done; there was something
+terrifying in his silence. At last she stole up to him, like a
+frightened child, and timidly pulled his sleeve. He turned round.
+
+“It is true,” he said.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+“BUT c-c-can't I meet him somewhere in the hills? Brisighella is a risky
+place for me.”
+
+“Every inch of ground in the Romagna is risky for you; but just at this
+moment Brisighella is safer for you than any other place.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“I'll tell you in a minute. Don't let that man with the blue jacket
+see your face; he's dangerous. Yes; it was a terrible storm; I don't
+remember to have seen the vines so bad for a long time.”
+
+The Gadfly spread his arms on the table, and laid his face upon them,
+like a man overcome with fatigue or wine; and the dangerous new-comer in
+the blue jacket, glancing swiftly round, saw only two farmers discussing
+their crops over a flask of wine and a sleepy mountaineer with his head
+on the table. It was the usual sort of thing to see in little places
+like Marradi; and the owner of the blue jacket apparently made up his
+mind that nothing could be gained by listening; for he drank his wine at
+a gulp and sauntered into the outer room. There he stood leaning on the
+counter and gossiping lazily with the landlord, glancing every now and
+then out of the corner of one eye through the open door, beyond which
+sat the three figures at the table. The two farmers went on sipping
+their wine and discussing the weather in the local dialect, and the
+Gadfly snored like a man whose conscience is sound.
+
+At last the spy seemed to make up his mind that there was nothing in the
+wine-shop worth further waste of his time. He paid his reckoning, and,
+lounging out of the house, sauntered away down the narrow street. The
+Gadfly, yawning and stretching, lifted himself up and sleepily rubbed
+the sleeve of his linen blouse across his eyes.
+
+“Pretty sharp practice that,” he said, pulling a clasp-knife out of his
+pocket and cutting off a chunk from the rye-loaf on the table. “Have
+they been worrying you much lately, Michele?”
+
+“They've been worse than mosquitos in August. There's no getting a
+minute's peace; wherever one goes, there's always a spy hanging
+about. Even right up in the hills, where they used to be so shy about
+venturing, they have taken to coming in bands of three or four--haven't
+they, Gino? That's why we arranged for you to meet Domenichino in the
+town.”
+
+“Yes; but why Brisighella? A frontier town is always full of spies.”
+
+“Brisighella just now is a capital place. It's swarming with pilgrims
+from all parts of the country.”
+
+“But it's not on the way to anywhere.”
+
+“It's not far out of the way to Rome, and many of the Easter Pilgrims
+are going round to hear Mass there.”
+
+“I d-d-didn't know there was anything special in Brisighella.”
+
+“There's the Cardinal. Don't you remember his going to Florence to
+preach last December? It's that same Cardinal Montanelli. They say he
+made a great sensation.”
+
+“I dare say; I don't go to hear sermons.”
+
+“Well, he has the reputation of being a saint, you see.”
+
+“How does he manage that?”
+
+“I don't know. I suppose it's because he gives away all his income, and
+lives like a parish priest with four or five hundred scudi a year.”
+
+“Ah!” interposed the man called Gino; “but it's more than that. He
+doesn't only give away money; he spends his whole life in looking
+after the poor, and seeing the sick are properly treated, and hearing
+complaints and grievances from morning till night. I'm no fonder of
+priests than you are, Michele, but Monsignor Montanelli is not like
+other Cardinals.”
+
+“Oh, I dare say he's more fool than knave!” said Michele. “Anyhow, the
+people are mad after him, and the last new freak is for the pilgrims to
+go round that way to ask his blessing. Domenichino thought of going as a
+pedlar, with a basket of cheap crosses and rosaries. The people like to
+buy those things and ask the Cardinal to touch them; then they put them
+round their babies' necks to keep off the evil eye.”
+
+“Wait a minute. How am I to go--as a pilgrim? This make-up suits me
+p-pretty well, I think; but it w-won't do for me to show myself
+in Brisighella in the same character that I had here; it would be
+ev-v-vidence against you if I get taken.”
+
+“You won't get taken; we have a splendid disguise for you, with a
+passport and all complete.”
+
+“What is it?”
+
+“An old Spanish pilgrim--a repentant brigand from the Sierras. He fell
+ill in Ancona last year, and one of our friends took him on board a
+trading-vessel out of charity, and set him down in Venice, where he had
+friends, and he left his papers with us to show his gratitude. They will
+just do for you.”
+
+“A repentant b-b-brigand? But w-what about the police?”
+
+“Oh, that's all right! He finished his term of the galleys some years
+ago, and has been going about to Jerusalem and all sorts of places
+saving his soul ever since. He killed his son by mistake for somebody
+else, and gave himself up to the police in a fit of remorse.”
+
+“Was he quite old?”
+
+“Yes; but a white beard and wig will set that right, and the description
+suits you to perfection in every other respect. He was an old soldier,
+with a lame foot and a sabre-cut across the face like yours; and then
+his being a Spaniard, too--you see, if you meet any Spanish pilgrims,
+you can talk to them all right.”
+
+“Where am I to meet Domenichino?”
+
+“You join the pilgrims at the cross-road that we will show you on the
+map, saying you had lost your way in the hills. Then, when you reach the
+town, you go with the rest of them into the marketplace, in front of the
+Cardinal's palace.”
+
+“Oh, he manages to live in a p-palace, then, in s-spite of being a
+saint?”
+
+“He lives in one wing of it, and has turned the rest into a hospital.
+Well, you all wait there for him to come out and give his benediction,
+and Domenichino will come up with his basket and say: 'Are you one of
+the pilgrims, father?' and you answer: 'I am a miserable sinner.' Then
+he puts down his basket and wipes his face with his sleeve, and you
+offer him six soldi for a rosary.”
+
+“Then, of course, he arranges where we can talk?”
+
+“Yes; he will have plenty of time to give you the address of the
+meeting-place while the people are gaping at Montanelli. That was our
+plan; but if you don't like it, we can let Domenichino know and arrange
+something else.”
+
+“No; it will do; only see that the beard and wig look natural.”
+
+    *****
+
+“Are you one of the pilgrims, father?”
+
+The Gadfly, sitting on the steps of the episcopal palace, looked up
+from under his ragged white locks, and gave the password in a husky,
+trembling voice, with a strong foreign accent. Domenichino slipped
+the leather strap from his shoulder, and set down his basket of pious
+gewgaws on the step. The crowd of peasants and pilgrims sitting on the
+steps and lounging about the market-place was taking no notice of
+them, but for precaution's sake they kept up a desultory conversation,
+Domenichino speaking in the local dialect and the Gadfly in broken
+Italian, intermixed with Spanish words.
+
+“His Eminence! His Eminence is coming out!” shouted the people by the
+door. “Stand aside! His Eminence is coming!”
+
+They both stood up.
+
+“Here, father,” said Domenichino, putting into the Gadfly's hand a
+little image wrapped in paper; “take this, too, and pray for me when you
+get to Rome.”
+
+The Gadfly thrust it into his breast, and turned to look at the figure
+in the violet Lenten robe and scarlet cap that was standing on the upper
+step and blessing the people with outstretched arms.
+
+Montanelli came slowly down the steps, the people crowding about him to
+kiss his hands. Many knelt down and put the hem of his cassock to their
+lips as he passed.
+
+“Peace be with you, my children!”
+
+At the sound of the clear, silvery voice, the Gadfly bent his head, so
+that the white hair fell across his face; and Domenichino, seeing the
+quivering of the pilgrim's staff in his hand, said to himself with
+admiration: “What an actor!”
+
+A woman standing near to them stooped down and lifted her child from the
+step. “Come, Cecco,” she said. “His Eminence will bless you as the dear
+Lord blessed the children.”
+
+The Gadfly moved a step forward and stopped. Oh, it was hard! All these
+outsiders--these pilgrims and mountaineers--could go up and speak to
+him, and he would lay his hand on their children's hair. Perhaps he
+would say “Carino” to that peasant boy, as he used to say----
+
+The Gadfly sank down again on the step, turning away that he might not
+see. If only he could shrink into some corner and stop his ears to shut
+out the sound! Indeed, it was more than any man should have to bear--to
+be so close, so close that he could have put out his arm and touched the
+dear hand.
+
+“Will you not come under shelter, my friend?” the soft voice said. “I am
+afraid you are chilled.”
+
+The Gadfly's heart stood still. For a moment he was conscious of nothing
+but the sickening pressure of the blood that seemed as if it would tear
+his breast asunder; then it rushed back, tingling and burning through
+all his body, and he looked up. The grave, deep eyes above him grew
+suddenly tender with divine compassion at the sight of his face.
+
+“Stand bark a little, friends,” Montanelli said, turning to the crowd;
+“I want to speak to him.”
+
+The people fell slowly back, whispering to each other, and the Gadfly,
+sitting motionless, with teeth clenched and eyes on the ground, felt the
+gentle touch of Montanelli's hand upon his shoulder.
+
+“You have had some great trouble. Can I do anything to help you?”
+
+The Gadfly shook his head in silence.
+
+“Are you a pilgrim?”
+
+“I am a miserable sinner.”
+
+The accidental similarity of Montanelli's question to the password came
+like a chance straw, that the Gadfly, in his desperation, caught at,
+answering automatically. He had begun to tremble under the soft pressure
+of the hand that seemed to burn upon his shoulder.
+
+The Cardinal bent down closer to him.
+
+“Perhaps you would care to speak to me alone? If I can be any help to
+you----”
+
+For the first time the Gadfly looked straight and steadily into
+Montanelli's eyes; he was already recovering his self-command.
+
+“It would be no use,” he said; “the thing is hopeless.”
+
+A police official stepped forward out of the crowd.
+
+“Forgive my intruding, Your Eminence. I think the old man is not quite
+sound in his mind. He is perfectly harmless, and his papers are in
+order, so we don't interfere with him. He has been in penal servitude
+for a great crime, and is now doing penance.”
+
+“A great crime,” the Gadfly repeated, shaking his head slowly.
+
+“Thank you, captain; stand aside a little, please. My friend, nothing is
+hopeless if a man has sincerely repented. Will you not come to me this
+evening?”
+
+“Would Your Eminence receive a man who is guilty of the death of his own
+son?”
+
+The question had almost the tone of a challenge, and Montanelli shrank
+and shivered under it as under a cold wind.
+
+“God forbid that I should condemn you, whatever you have done!” he said
+solemnly. “In His sight we are all guilty alike, and our righteousness
+is as filthy rags. If you will come to me I will receive you as I pray
+that He may one day receive me.”
+
+The Gadfly stretched out his hands with a sudden gesture of passion.
+
+“Listen!” he said; “and listen all of you, Christians! If a man has
+killed his only son--his son who loved and trusted him, who was flesh of
+his flesh and bone of his bone; if he has led his son into a death-trap
+with lies and deceit--is there hope for that man in earth or heaven?
+I have confessed my sin before God and man, and I have suffered the
+punishment that men have laid on me, and they have let me go; but when
+will God say, 'It is enough'? What benediction will take away His curse
+from my soul? What absolution will undo this thing that I have done?”
+
+In the dead silence that followed the people looked at Montanelli, and
+saw the heaving of the cross upon his breast.
+
+He raised his eyes at last, and gave the benediction with a hand that
+was not quite steady.
+
+“God is merciful,” he said. “Lay your burden before His throne; for it
+is written: 'A broken and contrite heart shalt thou not despise.'”
+
+He turned away and walked through the market-place, stopping everywhere
+to speak to the people, and to take their children in his arms.
+
+In the evening the Gadfly, following the directions written on the
+wrapping of the image, made his way to the appointed meeting-place. It
+was the house of a local doctor, who was an active member of the “sect.”
+ Most of the conspirators were already assembled, and their delight at
+the Gadfly's arrival gave him a new proof, if he had needed one, of his
+popularity as a leader.
+
+“We're glad enough to see you again,” said the doctor; “but we shall be
+gladder still to see you go. It's a fearfully risky business, and I, for
+one, was against the plan. Are you quite sure none of those police rats
+noticed you in the market-place this morning?”
+
+“Oh, they n-noticed me enough, but they d-didn't recognize me.
+Domenichino m-managed the thing capitally. But where is he? I don't see
+him.”
+
+“He has not come yet. So you got on all smoothly? Did the Cardinal give
+you his blessing?”
+
+“His blessing? Oh, that's nothing,” said Domenichino, coming in at the
+door. “Rivarez, you're as full of surprises as a Christmas cake. How
+many more talents are you going to astonish us with?”
+
+“What is it now?” asked the Gadfly languidly. He was leaning back on a
+sofa, smoking a cigar. He still wore his pilgrim's dress, but the white
+beard and wig lay beside him.
+
+“I had no idea you were such an actor. I never saw a thing done so
+magnificently in my life. You nearly moved His Eminence to tears.”
+
+“How was that? Let us hear, Rivarez.”
+
+The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. He was in a taciturn and laconic
+mood, and the others, seeing that nothing was to be got out of him,
+appealed to Domenichino to explain. When the scene in the market-place
+had been related, one young workman, who had not joined in the laughter
+of the rest, remarked abruptly:
+
+“It was very clever, of course; but I don't see what good all this
+play-acting business has done to anybody.”
+
+“Just this much,” the Gadfly put in; “that I can go where I like and do
+what I like anywhere in this district, and not a single man, woman, or
+child will ever think of suspecting me. The story will be all over the
+place by to-morrow, and when I meet a spy he will only think: 'It's
+mad Diego, that confessed his sins in the market-place.' That is an
+advantage gained, surely.”
+
+“Yes, I see. Still, I wish the thing could have been done without
+fooling the Cardinal. He's too good to have that sort of trick played on
+him.”
+
+“I thought myself he seemed fairly decent,” the Gadfly lazily assented.
+
+“Nonsense, Sandro! We don't want Cardinals here!” said Domenichino.
+“And if Monsignor Montanelli had taken that post in Rome when he had the
+chance of getting it, Rivarez couldn't have fooled him.”
+
+“He wouldn't take it because he didn't want to leave his work here.”
+
+“More likely because he didn't want to get poisoned off by
+Lambruschini's agents. They've got something against him, you may depend
+upon it. When a Cardinal, especially such a popular one, 'prefers to
+stay' in a God-forsaken little hole like this, we all know what that
+means--don't we, Rivarez?”
+
+The Gadfly was making smoke-rings. “Perhaps it is a c-c-case of a
+'b-b-broken and contrite heart,'” he remarked, leaning his head back to
+watch them float away. “And now, men, let us get to business.”
+
+They began to discuss in detail the various plans which had been formed
+for the smuggling and concealment of weapons. The Gadfly listened with
+keen attention, interrupting every now and then to correct sharply some
+inaccurate statement or imprudent proposal. When everyone had finished
+speaking, he made a few practical suggestions, most of which were
+adopted without discussion. The meeting then broke up. It had been
+resolved that, at least until he was safely back in Tuscany, very
+late meetings, which might attract the notice of the police, should
+be avoided. By a little after ten o'clock all had dispersed except the
+doctor, the Gadfly, and Domenichino, who remained as a sub-committee
+for the discussion of special points. After a long and hot dispute,
+Domenichino looked up at the clock.
+
+“Half-past eleven; we mustn't stop any longer or the night-watchman may
+see us.”
+
+“When does he pass?” asked the Gadfly.
+
+“About twelve o'clock; and I want to be home before he comes.
+Good-night, Giordani. Rivarez, shall we walk together?”
+
+“No; I think we are safer apart. Then I shall see you again?”
+
+“Yes; at Castel Bolognese. I don't know yet what disguise I shall be in,
+but you have the password. You leave here to-morrow, I think?”
+
+The Gadfly was carefully putting on his beard and wig before the
+looking-glass.
+
+“To-morrow morning, with the pilgrims. On the next day I fall ill and
+stop behind in a shepherd's hut, and then take a short cut across the
+hills. I shall be down there before you will. Good-night!”
+
+Twelve o'clock was striking from the Cathedral bell-tower as the Gadfly
+looked in at the door of the great empty barn which had been thrown
+open as a lodging for the pilgrims. The floor was covered with
+clumsy figures, most of which were snoring lustily, and the air was
+insufferably close and foul. He drew back with a little shudder of
+repugnance; it would be useless to attempt to sleep in there; he would
+take a walk, and then find some shed or haystack which would, at least,
+be clean and quiet.
+
+It was a glorious night, with a great full moon gleaming in a purple
+sky. He began to wander through the streets in an aimless way, brooding
+miserably over the scene of the morning, and wishing that he had never
+consented to Domenichino's plan of holding the meeting in Brisighella.
+If at the beginning he had declared the project too dangerous, some
+other place would have been chosen; and both he and Montanelli would
+have been spared this ghastly, ridiculous farce.
+
+How changed the Padre was! And yet his voice was not changed at all; it
+was just the same as in the old days, when he used to say: “Carino.”
+
+The lantern of the night-watchman appeared at the other end of the
+street, and the Gadfly turned down a narrow, crooked alley. After
+walking a few yards he found himself in the Cathedral Square, close
+to the left wing of the episcopal palace. The square was flooded with
+moonlight, and there was no one in sight; but he noticed that a side
+door of the Cathedral was ajar. The sacristan must have forgotten to
+shut it. Surely nothing could be going on there so late at night. He
+might as well go in and sleep on one of the benches instead of in the
+stifling barn; he could slip out in the morning before the sacristan
+came; and even if anyone did find him, the natural supposition would be
+that mad Diego had been saying his prayers in some corner, and had got
+shut in.
+
+He listened a moment at the door, and then entered with the noiseless
+step that he had retained notwithstanding his lameness. The moonlight
+streamed through the windows, and lay in broad bands on the marble
+floor. In the chancel, especially, everything was as clearly visible as
+by daylight. At the foot of the altar steps Cardinal Montanelli knelt
+alone, bare-headed, with clasped hands.
+
+The Gadfly drew back into the shadow. Should he slip away before
+Montanelli saw him? That, no doubt, would be the wisest thing to
+do--perhaps the most merciful. And yet, what harm could it do for him to
+go just a little nearer--to look at the Padre's face once more, now that
+the crowd was gone, and there was no need to keep up the hideous comedy
+of the morning? Perhaps it would be his last chance--and the Padre need
+not see him; he would steal up softly and look--just this once. Then he
+would go back to his work.
+
+Keeping in the shadow of the pillars, he crept softly up to the chancel
+rails, and paused at the side entrance, close to the altar. The shadow
+of the episcopal throne was broad enough to cover him, and he crouched
+down in the darkness, holding his breath.
+
+“My poor boy! Oh, God; my poor boy!”
+
+The broken whisper was full of such endless despair that the Gadfly
+shuddered in spite of himself. Then came deep, heavy, tearless sobs; and
+he saw Montanelli wring his hands together like a man in bodily pain.
+
+He had not thought it would be so bad as this. How often had he said to
+himself with bitter assurance: “I need not trouble about it; that wound
+was healed long ago.” Now, after all these years, it was laid bare
+before him, and he saw it bleeding still. And how easy it would be to
+heal it now at last! He need only lift his hand--only step forward and
+say: “Padre, it is I.” There was Gemma, too, with that white streak
+across her hair. Oh, if he could but forgive! If he could but cut out
+from his memory the past that was burned into it so deep--the Lascar,
+and the sugar-plantation, and the variety show! Surely there was no
+other misery like this--to be willing to forgive, to long to forgive;
+and to know that it was hopeless--that he could not, dared not forgive.
+
+Montanelli rose at last, made the sign of the cross, and turned
+away from the altar. The Gadfly shrank further back into the shadow,
+trembling with fear lest he should be seen, lest the very beating of
+his heart should betray him; then he drew a long breath of relief.
+Montanelli had passed him, so close that the violet robe had brushed
+against his cheek,--had passed and had not seen him.
+
+Had not seen him---- Oh, what had he done? This had been his last
+chance--this one precious moment--and he had let it slip away. He
+started up and stepped into the light.
+
+“Padre!”
+
+The sound of his own voice, ringing up and dying away along the arches
+of the roof, filled him with fantastic terror. He shrank back again into
+the shadow. Montanelli stood beside the pillar, motionless, listening
+with wide-open eyes, full of the horror of death. How long the silence
+lasted the Gadfly could not tell; it might have been an instant, or
+an eternity. He came to his senses with a sudden shock. Montanelli was
+beginning to sway as though he would fall, and his lips moved, at first
+silently.
+
+“Arthur!” the low whisper came at last; “yes, the water is deep----”
+
+The Gadfly came forward.
+
+“Forgive me, Your Eminence! I thought it was one of the priests.”
+
+“Ah, it is the pilgrim?” Montanelli had at once recovered his
+self-control, though the Gadfly could see, from the restless glitter of
+the sapphire on his hand, that he was still trembling. “Are you in
+need of anything, my friend? It is late, and the Cathedral is closed at
+night.”
+
+“I beg pardon, Your Eminence, if I have done wrong. I saw the door
+open, and came in to pray, and when I saw a priest, as I thought, in
+meditation, I waited to ask a blessing on this.”
+
+He held up the little tin cross that he had bought from Domenichino.
+Montanelli took it from his hand, and, re-entering the chancel, laid it
+for a moment on the altar.
+
+“Take it, my son,” he said, “and be at rest, for the Lord is tender
+and pitiful. Go to Rome, and ask the blessing of His minister, the Holy
+Father. Peace be with you!”
+
+The Gadfly bent his head to receive the benediction, and turned slowly
+away.
+
+“Stop!” said Montanelli.
+
+He was standing with one hand on the chancel rail.
+
+“When you receive the Holy Eucharist in Rome,” he said, “pray for one in
+deep affliction--for one on whose soul the hand of the Lord is heavy.”
+
+There were almost tears in his voice, and the Gadfly's resolution
+wavered. Another instant and he would have betrayed himself. Then the
+thought of the variety-show came up again, and he remembered, like
+Jonah, that he did well to be angry.
+
+“Who am I, that He should hear my prayers? A leper and an outcast! If I
+could bring to His throne, as Your Eminence can, the offering of a holy
+life--of a soul without spot or secret shame------”
+
+Montanelli turned abruptly away.
+
+“I have only one offering to give,” he said; “a broken heart.”
+
+    *****
+
+A few days later the Gadfly returned to Florence in the diligence from
+Pistoja. He went straight to Gemma's lodgings, but she was out. Leaving
+a message that he would return in the morning he went home, sincerely
+hoping that he should not again find his study invaded by Zita. Her
+jealous reproaches would act on his nerves, if he were to hear much of
+them to-night, like the rasping of a dentist's file.
+
+“Good-evening, Bianca,” he said when the maid-servant opened the door.
+“Has Mme. Reni been here to-day?”
+
+She stared at him blankly
+
+“Mme. Reni? Has she come back, then, sir?”
+
+“What do you mean?” he asked with a frown, stopping short on the mat.
+
+“She went away quite suddenly, just after you did, and left all her
+things behind her. She never so much as said she was going.”
+
+“Just after I did? What, a f-fortnight ago?”
+
+“Yes, sir, the same day; and her things are lying about
+higgledy-piggledy. All the neighbours are talking about it.”
+
+He turned away from the door-step without speaking, and went hastily
+down the lane to the house where Zita had been lodging. In her rooms
+nothing had been touched; all the presents that he had given her were in
+their usual places; there was no letter or scrap of writing anywhere.
+
+“If you please, sir,” said Bianca, putting her head in at the door,
+“there's an old woman----”
+
+He turned round fiercely.
+
+“What do you want here--following me about?”
+
+“An old woman wishes to see you.”
+
+“What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see her; I'm busy.”
+
+“She has been coming nearly every evening since you went away, sir,
+always asking when you would come back.”
+
+“Ask her w-what her business is. No; never mind; I suppose I must go
+myself.”
+
+The old woman was waiting at his hall door. She was very poorly dressed,
+with a face as brown and wrinkled as a medlar, and a bright-coloured
+scarf twisted round her head. As he came in she rose and looked at him
+with keen black eyes.
+
+“You are the lame gentleman,” she said, inspecting him critically from
+head to foot. “I have brought you a message from Zita Reni.”
+
+He opened the study door, and held it for her to pass in; then followed
+her and shut the door, that Bianca might not hear.
+
+“Sit down, please. N-now, tell me who you are.”
+
+“It's no business of yours who I am. I have come to tell you that Zita
+Reni has gone away with my son.”
+
+“With--your--son?”
+
+“Yes, sir; if you don't know how to keep your mistress when you've got
+her, you can't complain if other men take her. My son has blood in his
+veins, not milk and water; he comes of the Romany folk.”
+
+“Ah, you are a gipsy! Zita has gone back to her own people, then?”
+
+She looked at him in amazed contempt. Apparently, these Christians had
+not even manhood enough to be angry when they were insulted.
+
+“What sort of stuff are you made of, that she should stay with you? Our
+women may lend themselves to you a bit for a girl's fancy, or if you pay
+them well; but the Romany blood comes back to the Romany folk.”
+
+The Gadfly's face remained as cold and steady as before.
+
+“Has she gone away with a gipsy camp, or merely to live with your son?”
+
+The woman burst out laughing.
+
+“Do you think of following her and trying to win her back? It's too
+late, sir; you should have thought of that before!”
+
+“No; I only want to know the truth, if you will tell it to me.”
+
+She shrugged her shoulders; it was hardly worth while to abuse a person
+who took it so meekly.
+
+“The truth, then, is that she met my son in the road the day you left
+her, and spoke to him in the Romany tongue; and when he saw she was
+one of our folk, in spite of her fine clothes, he fell in love with her
+bonny face, as OUR men fall in love, and took her to our camp. She told
+us all her trouble, and sat crying and sobbing, poor lassie, till our
+hearts were sore for her. We comforted her as best we could; and at last
+she took off her fine clothes and put on the things our lasses wear, and
+gave herself to my son, to be his woman and to have him for her man. He
+won't say to her: 'I don't love you,' and: 'I've other things to do.'
+When a woman is young, she wants a man; and what sort of man are you,
+that you can't even kiss a handsome girl when she puts her arms round
+your neck?”
+
+“You said,” he interrupted, “that you had brought me a message from
+her.”
+
+“Yes; I stopped behind when the camp went on, so as to give it. She told
+me to say that she has had enough of your folk and their hair-splitting
+and their sluggish blood; and that she wants to get back to her own
+people and be free. 'Tell him,' she said, 'that I am a woman, and that
+I loved him; and that is why I would not be his harlot any longer.' The
+lassie was right to come away. There's no harm in a girl getting a bit
+of money out of her good looks if she can--that's what good looks are
+for; but a Romany lass has nothing to do with LOVING a man of your
+race.”
+
+The Gadfly stood up.
+
+“Is that all the message?” he said. “Then tell her, please, that I think
+she has done right, and that I hope she will be happy. That is all I
+have to say. Good-night!”
+
+He stood perfectly still until the garden gate closed behind her; then
+he sat down and covered his face with both hands.
+
+Another blow on the cheek! Was no rag of pride to be left him--no shred
+of self-respect? Surely he had suffered everything that man can endure;
+his very heart had been dragged in the mud and trampled under the
+feet of the passers-by; there was no spot in his soul where someone's
+contempt was not branded in, where someone's mockery had not left
+its iron trace. And now this gipsy girl, whom he had picked up by the
+wayside--even she had the whip in her hand.
+
+Shaitan whined at the door, and the Gadfly rose to let him in. The
+dog rushed up to his master with his usual frantic manifestations of
+delight, but soon, understanding that something was wrong, lay down on
+the rug beside him, and thrust a cold nose into the listless hand.
+
+An hour later Gemma came up to the front door. No one appeared in answer
+to her knock; Bianca, finding that the Gadfly did not want any dinner,
+had slipped out to visit a neighbour's cook. She had left the door open,
+and a light burning in the hall. Gemma, after waiting for some time,
+decided to enter and try if she could find the Gadfly, as she wished to
+speak to him about an important message which had come from Bailey. She
+knocked at the study door, and the Gadfly's voice answered from within:
+“You can go away, Bianca. I don't want anything.”
+
+She softly opened the door. The room was quite dark, but the passage
+lamp threw a long stream of light across it as she entered, and she
+saw the Gadfly sitting alone, his head sunk on his breast, and the dog
+asleep at his feet.
+
+“It is I,” she said.
+
+He started up. “Gemma,---- Gemma! Oh, I have wanted you so!”
+
+Before she could speak he was kneeling on the floor at her feet and
+hiding his face in the folds of her dress. His whole body was shaken
+with a convulsive tremor that was worse to see than tears.
+
+She stood still. There was nothing she could do to help him--nothing.
+This was the bitterest thing of all. She must stand by and look on
+passively--she who would have died to spare him pain. Could she but dare
+to stoop and clasp her arms about him, to hold him close against her
+heart and shield him, were it with her own body, from all further harm
+or wrong; surely then he would be Arthur to her again; surely then the
+day would break and the shadows flee away.
+
+Ah, no, no! How could he ever forget? Was it not she who had cast him
+into hell--she, with her own right hand?
+
+She had let the moment slip by. He rose hastily and sat down by the
+table, covering his eyes with one hand and biting his lip as if he would
+bite it through.
+
+Presently he looked up and said quietly:
+
+“I am afraid I startled you.”
+
+She held out both her hands to him. “Dear,” she said, “are we not
+friends enough by now for you to trust me a little bit? What is it?”
+
+“Only a private trouble of my own. I don't see why you should be worried
+over it.”
+
+“Listen a moment,” she went on, taking his hand in both of hers to
+steady its convulsive trembling. “I have not tried to lay hands on a
+thing that is not mine to touch. But now that you have given me, of your
+own free will, so much of your confidence, will you not give me a little
+more--as you would do if I were your sister. Keep the mask on your face,
+if it is any consolation to you, but don't wear a mask on your soul, for
+your own sake.”
+
+He bent his head lower. “You must be patient with me,” he said. “I am
+an unsatisfactory sort of brother to have, I'm afraid; but if you only
+knew---- I have been nearly mad this last week. It has been like South
+America again. And somehow the devil gets into me and----” He broke off.
+
+“May I not have my share in your trouble?” she whispered at last.
+
+His head sank down on her arm. “The hand of the Lord is heavy.”
+
+
+
+
+
+PART III.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE next five weeks were spent by Gemma and the Gadfly in a whirl
+of excitement and overwork which left them little time or energy for
+thinking about their personal affairs. When the arms had been safely
+smuggled into Papal territory there remained a still more difficult and
+dangerous task: that of conveying them unobserved from the secret stores
+in the mountain caverns and ravines to the various local centres and
+thence to the separate villages. The whole district was swarming with
+spies; and Domenichino, to whom the Gadfly had intrusted the ammunition,
+sent into Florence a messenger with an urgent appeal for either help or
+extra time. The Gadfly had insisted that the work should be finished
+by the middle of June; and what with the difficulty of conveying heavy
+transports over bad roads, and the endless hindrances and delays caused
+by the necessity of continually evading observation, Domenichino was
+growing desperate. “I am between Scylla and Charybdis,” he wrote. “I
+dare not work quickly, for fear of detection, and I must not work slowly
+if we are to be ready in time. Either send me efficient help at once, or
+let the Venetians know that we shall not be ready till the first week in
+July.”
+
+The Gadfly carried the letter to Gemma and, while she read it, sat
+frowning at the floor and stroking the cat's fur the wrong way.
+
+“This is bad,” she said. “We can hardly keep the Venetians waiting for
+three weeks.”
+
+“Of course we can't; the thing is absurd. Domenichino m-might
+unders-s-stand that. We must follow the lead of the Venetians, not they
+ours.”
+
+“I don't see that Domenichino is to blame; he has evidently done his
+best, and he can't do impossibilities.”
+
+“It's not in Domenichino that the fault lies; it's in the fact of
+his being one person instead of two. We ought to have at least one
+responsible man to guard the store and another to see the transports
+off. He is quite right; he must have efficient help.”
+
+“But what help are we going to give him? We have no one in Florence to
+send.”
+
+“Then I m-must go myself.”
+
+She leaned back in her chair and looked at him with a little frown.
+
+“No, that won't do; it's too risky.”
+
+“It will have to do if we can't f-f-find any other way out of the
+difficulty.”
+
+“Then we must find another way, that's all. It's out of the question for
+you to go again just now.”
+
+An obstinate line appeared at the corners of his under lip.
+
+“I d-don't see that it's out of the question.”
+
+“You will see if you think about the thing calmly for a minute. It is
+only five weeks since you got back; the police are on the scent about
+that pilgrim business, and scouring the country to find a clue. Yes, I
+know you are clever at disguises; but remember what a lot of people saw
+you, both as Diego and as the countryman; and you can't disguise your
+lameness or the scar on your face.”
+
+“There are p-plenty of lame people in the world.”
+
+“Yes, but there are not plenty of people in the Romagna with a lame foot
+and a sabre-cut across the cheek and a left arm injured like yours, and
+the combination of blue eyes with such dark colouring.”
+
+“The eyes don't matter; I can alter them with belladonna.”
+
+“You can't alter the other things. No, it won't do. For you to go there
+just now, with all your identification-marks, would be to walk into a
+trap with your eyes open. You would certainly be taken.”
+
+“But s-s-someone must help Domenichino.”
+
+“It will be no help to him to have you caught at a critical moment like
+this. Your arrest would mean the failure of the whole thing.”
+
+But the Gadfly was difficult to convince, and the discussion went on
+and on without coming nearer to any settlement. Gemma was beginning to
+realize how nearly inexhaustible was the fund of quiet obstinacy in
+his character; and, had the matter not been one about which she felt
+strongly, she would probably have yielded for the sake of peace. This,
+however, was a case in which she could not conscientiously give way; the
+practical advantage to be gained from the proposed journey seemed to her
+not sufficiently important to be worth the risk, and she could not help
+suspecting that his desire to go was prompted less by a conviction of
+grave political necessity than by a morbid craving for the excitement of
+danger. He had got into the habit of risking his neck, and his tendency
+to run into unnecessary peril seemed to her a form of intemperance
+which should be quietly but steadily resisted. Finding all her arguments
+unavailing against his dogged resolve to go his own way, she fired her
+last shot.
+
+“Let us be honest about it, anyway,” she said; “and call things by
+their true names. It is not Domenichino's difficulty that makes you so
+determined to go. It is your own personal passion for----”
+
+“It's not true!” he interrupted vehemently. “He is nothing to me; I
+don't care if I never see him again.”
+
+He broke off, seeing in her face that he had betrayed himself. Their
+eyes met for an instant, and dropped; and neither of them uttered the
+name that was in both their minds.
+
+“It--it is not Domenichino I want to save,” he stammered at last, with
+his face half buried in the cat's fur; “it is that I--I understand the
+danger of the work failing if he has no help.”
+
+She passed over the feeble little subterfuge, and went on as if there
+had been no interruption:
+
+“It is your passion for running into danger which makes you want to go
+there. You have the same craving for danger when you are worried that
+you had for opium when you were ill.”
+
+“It was not I that asked for the opium,” he said defiantly; “it was the
+others who insisted on giving it to me.”
+
+“I dare say. You plume yourself a little on your stoicism, and to
+ask for physical relief would have hurt your pride; but it is rather
+flattered than otherwise when you risk your life to relieve the
+irritation of your nerves. And yet, after all, the distinction is a
+merely conventional one.”
+
+He drew the cat's head back and looked down into the round, green eyes.
+“Is it true, Pasht?” he said. “Are all these unkind things true that
+your mistress is s-saying about me? Is it a case of mea culpa; mea
+m-maxima culpa? You wise beast, you never ask for opium, do you? Your
+ancestors were gods in Egypt, and no man t-trod on their tails. I
+wonder, though, what would become of your calm superiority to earthly
+ills if I were to take this paw of yours and hold it in the c-candle.
+Would you ask me for opium then? Would you? Or perhaps--for death? No,
+pussy, we have no right to die for our personal convenience. We may spit
+and s-swear a bit, if it consoles us; but we mustn't pull the paw away.”
+
+“Hush!” She took the cat off his knee and put it down on a footstool.
+“You and I will have time for thinking about those things later on. What
+we have to think of now is how to get Domenichino out of his difficulty.
+What is it, Katie; a visitor? I am busy.”
+
+“Miss Wright has sent you this, ma'am, by hand.”
+
+The packet, which was carefully sealed, contained a letter, addressed
+to Miss Wright, but unopened and with a Papal stamp. Gemma's old school
+friends still lived in Florence, and her more important letters were
+often received, for safety, at their address.
+
+“It is Michele's mark,” she said, glancing quickly over the letter,
+which seemed to be about the summer-terms at a boarding house in the
+Apennines, and pointing to two little blots on a corner of the page.
+“It is in chemical ink; the reagent is in the third drawer of the
+writing-table. Yes; that is it.”
+
+He laid the letter open on the desk and passed a little brush over its
+pages. When the real message stood out on the paper in a brilliant blue
+line, he leaned back in his chair and burst out laughing.
+
+“What is it?” she asked hurriedly. He handed her the paper.
+
+“DOMENICHINO HAS BEEN ARRESTED. COME AT ONCE.”
+
+She sat down with the paper in her hand and stared hopelessly at the
+Gadfly.
+
+“W-well?” he said at last, with his soft, ironical drawl; “are you
+satisfied now that I must go?”
+
+“Yes, I suppose you must,” she answered, sighing. “And I too.”
+
+He looked up with a little start. “You too? But----”
+
+“Of course. It will be very awkward, I know, to be left without anyone
+here in Florence; but everything must go to the wall now except the
+providing of an extra pair of hands.”
+
+“There are plenty of hands to be got there.”
+
+“They don't belong to people whom you can trust thoroughly, though. You
+said yourself just now that there must be two responsible persons
+in charge; and if Domenichino couldn't manage alone it is evidently
+impossible for you to do so. A person as desperately compromised as you
+are is very much handicapped, remember, in work of that kind, and
+more dependent on help than anyone else would be. Instead of you and
+Domenichino, it must be you and I.”
+
+He considered for a moment, frowning.
+
+“Yes, you are quite right,” he said; “and the sooner we go the better.
+But we must not start together. If I go off to-night, you can take, say,
+the afternoon coach to-morrow.”
+
+“Where to?”
+
+“That we must discuss. I think I had b-b-better go straight in to
+Faenza. If I start late to-night and ride to Borgo San Lorenzo I can get
+my disguise arranged there and go straight on.”
+
+“I don't see what else we can do,” she said, with an anxious little
+frown; “but it is very risky, your going off in such a hurry and
+trusting to the smugglers finding you a disguise at Borgo. You ought to
+have at least three clear days to double on your trace before you cross
+the frontier.”
+
+“You needn't be afraid,” he answered, smiling; “I may get taken further
+on, but not at the frontier. Once in the hills I am as safe as here;
+there's not a smuggler in the Apennines that would betray me. What I am
+not quite sure about is how you are to get across.”
+
+“Oh, that is very simple! I shall take Louisa Wright's passport and go
+for a holiday. No one knows me in the Romagna, but every spy knows you.”
+
+“F-fortunately, so does every smuggler.”
+
+She took out her watch.
+
+“Half-past two. We have the afternoon and evening, then, if you are to
+start to-night.”
+
+“Then the best thing will be for me to go home and settle everything
+now, and arrange about a good horse. I shall ride in to San Lorenzo; it
+will be safer.”
+
+“But it won't be safe at all to hire a horse. The owner will-----”
+
+“I shan't hire one. I know a man that will lend me a horse, and that can
+be trusted. He has done things for me before. One of the shepherds
+will bring it back in a fortnight. I shall be here again by five or
+half-past, then; and while I am gone, I w-want you to go and find
+Martini and exp-plain everything to him.”
+
+“Martini!” She turned round and looked at him in astonishment.
+
+“Yes; we must take him into confidence--unless you can think of anyone
+else.”
+
+“I don't quite understand what you mean.”
+
+“We must have someone here whom we can trust, in case of any special
+difficulty; and of all the set here Martini is the man in whom I have
+most confidence. Riccardo would do anything he could for us, of course;
+but I think Martini has a steadier head. Still, you know him better than
+I do; it is as you think.”
+
+“I have not the slightest doubt as to Martini's trustworthiness and
+efficiency in every respect; and I think he would probably consent to
+give us any help he could. But----”
+
+He understood at once.
+
+“Gemma, what would you feel if you found out that a comrade in bitter
+need had not asked you for help you might have given, for fear of
+hurting or distressing you? Would you say there was any true kindness in
+that?”
+
+“Very well,” she said, after a little pause; “I will send Katie round at
+once and ask him to come; and while she is gone I will go to Louisa for
+her passport; she promised to lend it whenever I want one. What about
+money? Shall I draw some out of the bank?”
+
+“No; don't waste time on that; I can draw enough from my account to last
+us for a bit. We will fall back on yours later on if my balance runs
+short. Till half-past five, then; I shall be sure to find you here, of
+course?”
+
+“Oh, yes! I shall be back long before then.”
+
+Half an hour after the appointed time he returned, and found Gemma
+and Martini sitting on the terrace together. He saw at once that their
+conversation had been a distressing one; the traces of agitation were
+visible in both of them, and Martini was unusually silent and glum.
+
+“Have you arranged everything?” she asked, looking up.
+
+“Yes; and I have brought you some money for the journey. The horse will
+be ready for me at the Ponte Rosso barrier at one in the night.”
+
+“Is not that rather late? You ought to get into San Lorenzo before the
+people are up in the morning.”
+
+“So I shall; it's a very fast horse; and I don't want to leave here
+when there's a chance of anyone noticing me. I shan't go home any more;
+there's a spy watching at the door, and he thinks me in.”
+
+“How did you get out without his seeing you?”
+
+“Out of the kitchen window into the back garden and over the neighbour's
+orchard wall; that's what makes me so late; I had to dodge him. I left
+the owner of the horse to sit in the study all the evening with the lamp
+lighted. When the spy sees the light in the window and a shadow on
+the blind he will be quite satisfied that I am writing at home this
+evening.”
+
+“Then you will stay here till it is time to go to the barrier?”
+
+“Yes; I don't want to be seen in the street any more to-night. Have a
+cigar, Martini? I know Signora Bolla doesn't mind smoke.”
+
+“I shan't be here to mind; I must go downstairs and help Katie with the
+dinner.”
+
+When she had gone Martini got up and began to pace to and fro with his
+hands behind his back. The Gadfly sat smoking and looking silently out
+at the drizzling rain.
+
+“Rivarez!” Martini began, stopping in front of him, but keeping his eyes
+on the ground; “what sort of thing are you going to drag her into?”
+
+The Gadfly took the cigar from his mouth and blew away a long trail of
+smoke.
+
+“She has chosen for herself,” he said, “without compulsion on anyone's
+part.”
+
+“Yes, yes--I know. But tell me----”
+
+He stopped.
+
+“I will tell you anything I can.”
+
+“Well, then--I don't know much about the details of these affairs in the
+hills,--are you going to take her into any very serious danger?”
+
+“Do you want the truth?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Then--yes.”
+
+Martini turned away and went on pacing up and down. Presently he stopped
+again.
+
+“I want to ask you another question. If you don't choose to answer it,
+you needn't, of course; but if you do answer, then answer honestly. Are
+you in love with her?”
+
+The Gadfly deliberately knocked the ash from his cigar and went on
+smoking in silence.
+
+“That means--that you don't choose to answer?”
+
+“No; only that I think I have a right to know why you ask me that.”
+
+“Why? Good God, man, can't you see why?”
+
+“Ah!” He laid down his cigar and looked steadily at Martini. “Yes,” he
+said at last, slowly and softly. “I am in love with her. But you needn't
+think I am going to make love to her, or worry about it. I am only going
+to----”
+
+His voice died away in a strange, faint whisper. Martini came a step
+nearer.
+
+“Only going--to----”
+
+“To die.”
+
+He was staring straight before him with a cold, fixed look, as if he
+were dead already. When he spoke again his voice was curiously lifeless
+and even.
+
+“You needn't worry her about it beforehand,” he said; “but there's not
+the ghost of a chance for me. It's dangerous for everyone; that she
+knows as well as I do; but the smugglers will do their best to prevent
+her getting taken. They are good fellows, though they are a bit rough.
+As for me, the rope is round my neck, and when I cross the frontier I
+pull the noose.”
+
+“Rivarez, what do you mean? Of course it's dangerous, and particularly
+so for you; I understand that; but you have often crossed the frontier
+before and always been successful.”
+
+“Yes, and this time I shall fail.”
+
+“But why? How can you know?”
+
+The Gadfly smiled drearily.
+
+“Do you remember the German legend of the man that died when he met his
+own Double? No? It appeared to him at night in a lonely place, wringing
+its hands in despair. Well, I met mine the last time I was in the hills;
+and when I cross the frontier again I shan't come back.”
+
+Martini came up to him and put a hand on the back of his chair.
+
+“Listen, Rivarez; I don't understand a word of all this metaphysical
+stuff, but I do understand one thing: If you feel about it that way, you
+are not in a fit state to go. The surest way to get taken is to go with
+a conviction that you will be taken. You must be ill, or out of sorts
+somehow, to get maggots of that kind into your head. Suppose I go
+instead of you? I can do any practical work there is to be done, and you
+can send a message to your men, explaining------”
+
+“And let you get killed instead? That would be very clever.”
+
+“Oh, I'm not likely to get killed! They don't know me as they do you.
+And, besides, even if I did------”
+
+He stopped, and the Gadfly looked up with a slow, inquiring gaze.
+Martini's hand dropped by his side.
+
+“She very likely wouldn't miss me as much as she would you,” he said
+in his most matter-of-fact voice. “And then, besides, Rivarez, this is
+public business, and we have to look at it from the point of view
+of utility--the greatest good of the greatest number. Your 'final
+value'---isn't that what the economists call it?--is higher than mine;
+I have brains enough to see that, though I haven't any cause to be
+particularly fond of you. You are a bigger man than I am; I'm not sure
+that you are a better one, but there's more of you, and your death would
+be a greater loss than mine.”
+
+From the way he spoke he might have been discussing the value of shares
+on the Exchange. The Gadfly looked up, shivering as if with cold.
+
+“Would you have me wait till my grave opens of itself to swallow me up?
+
+
+                “If I must die,
+    I will encounter darkness as a bride----
+
+Look here, Martini, you and I are talking nonsense.”
+
+“You are, certainly,” said Martini gruffly.
+
+“Yes, and so are you. For Heaven's sake, don't let's go in for romantic
+self-sacrifice, like Don Carlos and Marquis Posa. This is the nineteenth
+century; and if it's my business to die, I have got to do it.”
+
+“And if it's my business to live, I have got to do that, I suppose.
+You're the lucky one, Rivarez.”
+
+“Yes,” the Gadfly assented laconically; “I was always lucky.”
+
+They smoked in silence for a few minutes, and then began to talk of
+business details. When Gemma came up to call them to dinner, neither of
+them betrayed in face or manner that their conversation had been in any
+way unusual. After dinner they sat discussing plans and making necessary
+arrangements till eleven o'clock, when Martini rose and took his hat.
+
+“I will go home and fetch that riding-cloak of mine, Rivarez. I think
+you will be less recognizable in it than in your light suit. I want to
+reconnoitre a bit, too, and make sure there are no spies about before we
+start.”
+
+“Are you coming with me to the barrier?”
+
+“Yes; it's safer to have four eyes than two in case of anyone following
+you. I'll be back by twelve. Be sure you don't start without me. I had
+better take the key, Gemma, so as not to wake anyone by ringing.”
+
+She raised her eyes to his face as he took the keys. She understood that
+he had invented a pretext in order to leave her alone with the Gadfly.
+
+“You and I will talk to-morrow,” she said. “We shall have time in the
+morning, when my packing is finished.”
+
+“Oh, yes! Plenty of time. There are two or three little things I want
+to ask you about, Rivarez; but we can talk them over on our way to the
+barrier. You had better send Katie to bed, Gemma; and be as quiet as you
+can, both of you. Good-bye till twelve, then.”
+
+He went away with a little nod and smile, banging the door after him to
+let the neighbours hear that Signora Bolla's visitor was gone.
+
+Gemma went out into the kitchen to say good-night to Katie, and came
+back with black coffee on a tray.
+
+“Would you like to lie down a bit?” she said. “You won't have any sleep
+the rest of the night.”
+
+“Oh, dear no! I shall sleep at San Lorenzo while the men are getting my
+disguise ready.”
+
+“Then have some coffee. Wait a minute; I will get you out the biscuits.”
+
+As she knelt down at the side-board he suddenly stooped over her
+shoulder.
+
+“Whatever have you got there? Chocolate creams and English toffee! Why,
+this is l-luxury for a king!”
+
+She looked up, smiling faintly at his enthusiastic tone.
+
+“Are you fond of sweets? I always keep them for Cesare; he is a perfect
+baby over any kind of lollipops.”
+
+“R-r-really? Well, you must get him s-some more to-morrow and give me
+these to take with me. No, let me p-p-put the toffee in my pocket; it
+will console me for all the lost joys of life. I d-do hope they'll give
+me a bit of toffee to suck the day I'm hanged.”
+
+“Oh, do let me find a cardboard box for it, at least, before you put it
+in your pocket! You will be so sticky! Shall I put the chocolates in,
+too?”
+
+“No, I want to eat them now, with you.”
+
+“But I don't like chocolate, and I want you to come and sit down like
+a reasonable human being. We very likely shan't have another chance to
+talk quietly before one or other of us is killed, and------”
+
+“She d-d-doesn't like chocolate!” he murmured under his breath. “Then
+I must be greedy all by myself. This is a case of the hangman's supper,
+isn't it? You are going to humour all my whims to-night. First of all, I
+want you to sit on this easy-chair, and, as you said I might lie down, I
+shall lie here and be comfortable.”
+
+He threw himself down on the rug at her feet, leaning his elbow on the
+chair and looking up into her face.
+
+“How pale you are!” he said. “That's because you take life sadly, and
+don't like chocolate----”
+
+“Do be serious for just five minutes! After all, it is a matter of life
+and death.”
+
+“Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life nor death is worth it.”
+
+He had taken hold of both her hands and was stroking them with the tips
+of his fingers.
+
+“Don't look so grave, Minerva! You'll make me cry in a minute, and
+then you'll be sorry. I do wish you'd smile again; you have such a
+d-delightfully unexpected smile. There now, don't scold me, dear! Let us
+eat our biscuits together, like two good children, without quarrelling
+over them--for to-morrow we die.”
+
+He took a sweet biscuit from the plate and carefully halved it, breaking
+the sugar ornament down the middle with scrupulous exactness.
+
+“This is a kind of sacrament, like what the goody-goody people have in
+church. 'Take, eat; this is my body.' And we must d-drink the wine
+out of the s-s-same glass, you know--yes, that is right. 'Do this in
+remembrance----'”
+
+She put down the glass.
+
+“Don't!” she said, with almost a sob. He looked up, and took her hands
+again.
+
+“Hush, then! Let us be quiet for a little bit. When one of us dies, the
+other will remember this. We will forget this loud, insistent world that
+howls about our ears; we will go away together, hand in hand; we will
+go away into the secret halls of death, and lie among the poppy-flowers.
+Hush! We will be quite still.”
+
+He laid his head down against her knee and covered his face. In the
+silence she bent over him, her hand on the black head. So the time
+slipped on and on; and they neither moved nor spoke.
+
+“Dear, it is almost twelve,” she said at last. He raised his head.
+
+“We have only a few minutes more; Martini will be back presently.
+Perhaps we shall never see each other again. Have you nothing to say to
+me?”
+
+He slowly rose and walked away to the other side of the room. There was
+a moment's silence.
+
+“I have one thing to say,” he began in a hardly audible voice; “one
+thing--to tell you----”
+
+He stopped and sat down by the window, hiding his face in both hands.
+
+“You have been a long time deciding to be merciful,” she said softly.
+
+“I have not seen much mercy in my life; and I thought--at first--you
+wouldn't care----”
+
+“You don't think that now.”
+
+She waited a moment for him to speak and then crossed the room and stood
+beside him.
+
+“Tell me the truth at last,” she whispered. “Think, if you are killed
+and I not--I should have to go through all my life and never know--never
+be quite sure----”
+
+He took her hands and clasped them tightly.
+
+“If I am killed---- You see, when I went to South America---- Ah,
+Martini!”
+
+He broke away with a violent start and threw open the door of the room.
+Martini was rubbing his boots on the mat.
+
+“Punctual to the m-m-minute, as usual! You're an an-n-nimated
+chronometer, Martini. Is that the r-r-riding-cloak?”
+
+“Yes; and two or three other things. I have kept them as dry as I could,
+but it's pouring with rain. You will have a most uncomfortable ride, I'm
+afraid.”
+
+“Oh, that's no matter. Is the street clear?”
+
+“Yes; all the spies seem to have gone to bed. I don't much wonder
+either, on such a villainous night. Is that coffee, Gemma? He ought to
+have something hot before he goes out into the wet, or he will catch
+cold.”
+
+“It is black coffee, and very strong. I will boil some milk.”
+
+She went into the kitchen, passionately clenching her teeth and hands to
+keep from breaking down. When she returned with the milk the Gadfly
+had put on the riding-cloak and was fastening the leather gaiters which
+Martini had brought. He drank a cup of coffee, standing, and took up the
+broad-brimmed riding hat.
+
+“I think it's time to start, Martini; we must make a round before we go
+to the barrier, in case of anything. Good-bye, for the present, signora;
+I shall meet you at Forli on Friday, then, unless anything special turns
+up. Wait a minute; th-this is the address.”
+
+He tore a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote a few words in pencil.
+
+“I have it already,” she said in a dull, quiet voice.
+
+“H-have you? Well, there it is, anyway. Come, Martini. Sh-sh-sh! Don't
+let the door creak!”
+
+They crept softly downstairs. When the street door clicked behind them
+she went back into the room and mechanically unfolded the paper he had
+put into her hand. Underneath the address was written:
+
+“I will tell you everything there.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+IT was market-day in Brisighella, and the country folk had come in from
+the villages and hamlets of the district with their pigs and poultry,
+their dairy produce and droves of half-wild mountain cattle. The
+market-place was thronged with a perpetually shifting crowd, laughing,
+joking, bargaining for dried figs, cheap cakes, and sunflower seeds. The
+brown, bare-footed children sprawled, face downward, on the pavement in
+the hot sun, while their mothers sat under the trees with their baskets
+of butter and eggs.
+
+Monsignor Montanelli, coming out to wish the people “Good-morning,” was
+at once surrounded by a clamourous throng of children, holding up for
+his acceptance great bunches of irises and scarlet poppies and sweet
+white narcissus from the mountain slopes. His passion for wild flowers
+was affectionately tolerated by the people, as one of the little follies
+which sit gracefully on very wise men. If anyone less universally
+beloved had filled his house with weeds and grasses they would have
+laughed at him; but the “blessed Cardinal” could afford a few harmless
+eccentricities.
+
+“Well, Mariuccia,” he said, stopping to pat one of the children on the
+head; “you have grown since I saw you last. And how is the grandmother's
+rheumatism?”
+
+“She's been better lately, Your Eminence; but mother's bad now.”
+
+“I'm sorry to hear that; tell the mother to come down here some day and
+see whether Dr. Giordani can do anything for her. I will find somewhere
+to put her up; perhaps the change will do her good. You are looking
+better, Luigi; how are your eyes?”
+
+He passed on, chatting with the mountaineers. He always remembered
+the names and ages of the children, their troubles and those of their
+parents; and would stop to inquire, with sympathetic interest, for the
+health of the cow that fell sick at Christmas, or of the rag-doll that
+was crushed under a cart-wheel last market-day.
+
+When he returned to the palace the marketing began. A lame man in a blue
+shirt, with a shock of black hair hanging into his eyes and a deep scar
+across the left cheek, lounged up to one of the booths and, in very bad
+Italian, asked for a drink of lemonade.
+
+“You're not from these parts,” said the woman who poured it out,
+glancing up at him.
+
+“No. I come from Corsica.”
+
+“Looking for work?”
+
+“Yes; it will be hay-cutting time soon, and a gentleman that has a farm
+near Ravenna came across to Bastia the other day and told me there's
+plenty of work to be got there.”
+
+“I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are bad hereabouts.”
+
+“They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't know what we poor folk are
+coming to.”
+
+“Have you come over alone?”
+
+“No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the red shirt. Hola, Paolo!”
+
+Michele hearing himself called, came lounging up with his hands in his
+pockets. He made a fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig which
+he had put on to render himself unrecognizable. As for the Gadfly, he
+looked his part to perfection.
+
+They sauntered through the market-place together, Michele whistling
+between his teeth, and the Gadfly trudging along with a bundle over his
+shoulder, shuffling his feet on the ground to render his lameness
+less observable. They were waiting for an emissary, to whom important
+directions had to be given.
+
+“There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner,” Michele whispered
+suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying his bundle, shuffled towards the
+horseman.
+
+“Do you happen to be wanting a hay-maker, sir?” he said, touching his
+ragged cap and running one finger along the bridle. It was the signal
+agreed upon, and the rider, who from his appearance might have been a
+country squire's bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins on the horse's
+neck.
+
+“What sort of work can you do, my man?”
+
+The Gadfly fumbled with his cap.
+
+“I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges”--he began; and without any break
+in his voice, went straight on: “At one in the morning at the mouth of
+the round cave. You must have two good horses and a cart. I shall be
+waiting inside the cave---- And then I can dig, sir, and----”
+
+“That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. Have you ever been out
+before?”
+
+“Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed; we may meet a flying
+squadron. Don't go by the wood-path; you're safer on the other side. If
+you meet a spy, don't stop to argue with him; fire at once---- I should
+be very glad of work, sir.”
+
+“Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced grass-cutter. No, I haven't
+got any coppers to-day.”
+
+A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them, with a doleful, monotonous
+whine.
+
+“Have pity on a poor blind man, in the name of the Blessed Virgin------
+Get out of this place at once; there's a flying squadron coming
+along----Most Holy Queen of Heaven, Maiden undefiled--It's you they're
+after, Rivarez; they'll be here in two minutes---- And so may the saints
+reward you---- You'll have to make a dash for it; there are spies at all
+the corners. It's no use trying to slip away without being seen.”
+
+Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand.
+
+“Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let the horse go; you can hide
+in the ravine. We're all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes.”
+
+“No. I won't have you fellows taken. Stand together, all of you, and
+fire after me in order. Move up towards our horses; there they are,
+tethered by the palace steps; and have your knives ready. We retreat
+fighting, and when I throw my cap down, cut the halters and jump every
+man on the nearest horse. We may all reach the wood that way.”
+
+They had spoken in so quiet an undertone that even the nearest
+bystanders had not supposed their conversation to refer to anything
+more dangerous than grass-cutting. Marcone, leading his own mare by the
+bridle, walked towards the tethered horses, the Gadfly slouching along
+beside him, and the beggar following them with an outstretched hand and
+a persistent whine. Michele came up whistling; the beggar had warned him
+in passing, and he quietly handed on the news to three countrymen who
+were eating raw onions under a tree. They immediately rose and followed
+him; and before anyone's notice had been attracted to them, the whole
+seven were standing together by the steps of the palace, each man with
+one hand on the hidden pistol, and the tethered horses within easy
+reach.
+
+“Don't betray yourselves till I move,” the Gadfly said softly and
+clearly. “They may not recognize us. When I fire, then begin in order.
+Don't fire at the men; lame their horses--then they can't follow us.
+Three of you fire, while the other three reload. If anyone comes between
+you and our horses, kill him. I take the roan. When I throw down my cap,
+each man for himself; don't stop for anything.”
+
+“Here they come,” said Michele; and the Gadfly turned round, with an air
+of naive and stupid wonder, as the people suddenly broke off in their
+bargaining.
+
+Fifteen armed men rode slowly into the marketplace. They had great
+difficulty to get past the throng of people at all, and, but for the
+spies at the corners of the square, all the seven conspirators could
+have slipped quietly away while the attention of the crowd was fixed
+upon the soldiers. Michele moved a little closer to the Gadfly.
+
+“Couldn't we get away now?”
+
+“No; we're surrounded with spies, and one of them has recognized me. He
+has just sent a man to tell the captain where I am. Our only chance is
+to lame their horses.”
+
+“Which is the spy?”
+
+“The first man I fire at. Are you all ready? They have made a lane to
+us; they are going to come with a rush.”
+
+“Out of the way there!” shouted the captain. “In the name of His
+Holiness!”
+
+The crowd had drawn back, startled and wondering; and the soldiers made
+a quick dash towards the little group standing by the palace steps. The
+Gadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired, not at the advancing
+troops, but at the spy, who was approaching the horses, and who fell
+back with a broken collar-bone. Immediately after the report, six more
+shots were fired in quick succession, as the conspirators moved steadily
+closer to the tethered horses.
+
+One of the cavalry horses stumbled and plunged; another fell to
+the ground with a fearful cry. Then, through the shrieking of the
+panic-stricken people, came the loud, imperious voice of the officer in
+command, who had risen in the stirrups and was holding a sword above his
+head.
+
+“This way, men!”
+
+He swayed in the saddle and sank back; the Gadfly had fired again
+with his deadly aim. A little stream of blood was trickling down the
+captain's uniform; but he steadied himself with a violent effort, and,
+clutching at his horse's mane, cried out fiercely:
+
+“Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive! It's Rivarez!”
+
+“Another pistol, quick!” the Gadfly called to his men; “and go!”
+
+He flung down his cap. It was only just in time, for the swords of the
+now infuriated soldiers were flashing close in front of him.
+
+“Put down your weapons, all of you!”
+
+Cardinal Montanelli had stepped suddenly between the combatants; and one
+of the soldiers cried out in a voice sharp with terror:
+
+“Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!”
+
+Montanelli only moved a step nearer, and faced the Gadfly's pistol.
+
+Five of the conspirators were already on horseback and dashing up the
+hilly street. Marcone sprang on to the back of his mare. In the moment
+of riding away, he glanced back to see whether his leader was in need of
+help. The roan was close at hand, and in another instant all would have
+been safe; but as the figure in the scarlet cassock stepped forward,
+the Gadfly suddenly wavered and the hand with the pistol sank down.
+The instant decided everything. Immediately he was surrounded and flung
+violently to the ground, and the weapon was dashed out of his hand by a
+blow from the flat of a soldier's sword. Marcone struck his mare's flank
+with the stirrup; the hoofs of the cavalry horses were thundering up the
+hill behind him; and it would have been worse than useless to stay and
+be taken too. Turning in the saddle as he galloped away, to fire a last
+shot in the teeth of the nearest pursuer, he saw the Gadfly, with blood
+on his face, trampled under the feet of horses and soldiers and spies;
+and heard the savage curses of the captors, the yells of triumph and
+rage.
+
+Montanelli did not notice what had happened; he had moved away from the
+steps, and was trying to calm the terrified people. Presently, as he
+stooped over the wounded spy, a startled movement of the crowd made him
+look up. The soldiers were crossing the square, dragging their prisoner
+after them by the rope with which his hands were tied. His face was
+livid with pain and exhaustion, and he panted fearfully for breath; but
+he looked round at the Cardinal, smiling with white lips, and whispered:
+
+“I c-cong-gratulate your Eminence.”
+
+   *****
+
+Five days later Martini reached Forli. He had received from Gemma by
+post a bundle of printed circulars, the signal agreed upon in case
+of his being needed in any special emergency; and, remembering the
+conversation on the terrace, he guessed the truth at once. All through
+the journey he kept repeating to himself that there was no reason for
+supposing anything to have happened to the Gadfly, and that it was
+absurd to attach any importance to the childish superstitions of so
+nervous and fanciful a person; but the more he reasoned with himself
+against the idea, the more firmly did it take possession of his mind.
+
+“I have guessed what it is: Rivarez is taken, of course?” he said, as he
+came into Gemma's room.
+
+“He was arrested last Thursday, at Brisighella. He defended himself
+desperately and wounded the captain of the squadron and a spy.”
+
+“Armed resistance; that's bad!”
+
+“It makes no difference; he was too deeply compromised already for a
+pistol-shot more or less to affect his position much.”
+
+“What do you think they are going to do with him?”
+
+She grew a shade paler even than before.
+
+“I think,” she said; “that we must not wait to find out what they mean
+to do.”
+
+“You think we shall be able to effect a rescue?”
+
+“We MUST.”
+
+He turned away and began to whistle, with his hands behind his back.
+Gemma let him think undisturbed. She was sitting still, leaning her head
+against the back of the chair, and looking out into vague distance with
+a fixed and tragic absorption. When her face wore that expression, it
+had a look of Durer's “Melancolia.”
+
+“Have you seen him?” Martini asked, stopping for a moment in his tramp.
+
+“No; he was to have met me here the next morning.”
+
+“Yes, I remember. Where is he?”
+
+“In the fortress; very strictly guarded, and, they say, in chains.”
+
+He made a gesture of indifference.
+
+“Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid of any number of chains.
+If only he isn't wounded----”
+
+“He seems to have been slightly hurt, but exactly how much we don't
+know. I think you had better hear the account of it from Michele
+himself; he was present at the arrest.”
+
+“How does he come not to have been taken too? Did he run away and leave
+Rivarez in the lurch?”
+
+“It's not his fault; he fought as long as anybody did, and followed the
+directions given him to the letter. For that matter, so did they all.
+The only person who seems to have forgotten, or somehow made a mistake
+at the last minute, is Rivarez himself. There's something inexplicable
+about it altogether. Wait a moment; I will call Michele.”
+
+She went out of the room, and presently came back with Michele and a
+broad-shouldered mountaineer.
+
+“This is Marco,” she said. “You have heard of him; he is one of the
+smugglers. He has just got here, and perhaps will be able to tell us
+more. Michele, this is Cesare Martini, that I spoke to you about. Will
+you tell him what happened, as far as you saw it?”
+
+Michele gave a short account of the skirmish with the squadron.
+
+“I can't understand how it happened,” he concluded. “Not one of us would
+have left him if we had thought he would be taken; but his directions
+were quite precise, and it never occurred to us, when he threw down his
+cap, that he would wait to let them surround him. He was close beside
+the roan--I saw him cut the tether--and I handed him a loaded pistol
+myself before I mounted. The only thing I can suppose is that he missed
+his footing,--being lame,--in trying to mount. But even then, he could
+have fired.”
+
+“No, it wasn't that,” Marcone interposed. “He didn't attempt to mount.
+I was the last one to go, because my mare shied at the firing; and I
+looked round to see whether he was safe. He would have got off clear if
+it hadn't been for the Cardinal.”
+
+“Ah!” Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini repeated in amazement: “The
+Cardinal?”
+
+“Yes; he threw himself in front of the pistol--confound him! I suppose
+Rivarez must have been startled, for he dropped his pistol-hand and put
+the other one up like this”--laying the back of his left wrist across
+his eyes--“and of course they all rushed on him.”
+
+“I can't make that out,” said Michele. “It's not like Rivarez to lose
+his head at a crisis.”
+
+“Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing an unarmed man,”
+ Martini put in. Michele shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“Unarmed men shouldn't poke their noses into the middle of a fight.
+War is war. If Rivarez had put a bullet into His Eminence, instead of
+letting himself be caught like a tame rabbit, there'd be one honest man
+the more and one priest the less.”
+
+He turned away, biting his moustache. His anger was very near to
+breaking down in tears.
+
+“Anyway,” said Martini, “the thing's done, and there's no use wasting
+time in discussing how it happened. The question now is how we're to
+arrange an escape for him. I suppose you're all willing to risk it?”
+
+Michele did not even condescend to answer the superfluous question,
+and the smuggler only remarked with a little laugh: “I'd shoot my own
+brother, if he weren't willing.”
+
+“Very well, then---- First thing; have you got a plan of the fortress?”
+
+Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several sheets of paper.
+
+“I have made out all the plans. Here is the ground floor of the
+fortress; here are the upper and lower stories of the towers, and here
+the plan of the ramparts. These are the roads leading to the valley,
+and here are the paths and hiding-places in the mountains, and the
+underground passages.”
+
+“Do you know which of the towers he is in?”
+
+“The east one, in the round room with the grated window. I have marked
+it on the plan.”
+
+“How did you get your information?”
+
+“From a man nicknamed 'The Cricket,' a soldier of the guard. He is
+cousin to one of our men--Gino.”
+
+“You have been quick about it.”
+
+“There's no time to lose. Gino went into Brisighella at once; and some
+of the plans we already had. That list of hiding-places was made by
+Rivarez himself; you can see by the handwriting.”
+
+“What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?”
+
+“That we have not been able to find out yet; the Cricket has only just
+come to the place, and knows nothing about the other men.”
+
+“We must find out from Gino what the Cricket himself is like. Is
+anything known of the government's intentions? Is Rivarez likely to be
+tried in Brisighella or taken in to Ravenna?”
+
+“That we don't know. Ravenna, of course, is the chief town of the
+Legation and by law cases of importance can be tried only there, in the
+Tribunal of First Instance. But law doesn't count for much in the Four
+Legations; it depends on the personal fancy of anybody who happens to be
+in power.”
+
+“They won't take him in to Ravenna,” Michele interposed.
+
+“What makes you think so?”
+
+“I am sure of it. Colonel Ferrari, the military Governor at Brisighella,
+is uncle to the officer that Rivarez wounded; he's a vindictive sort of
+brute and won't give up a chance to spite an enemy.”
+
+“You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?”
+
+“I think he will try to get him hanged.”
+
+Martini glanced quickly at Gemma. She was very pale, but her face had
+not changed at the words. Evidently the idea was no new one to her.
+
+“He can hardly do that without some formality,” she said quietly; “but
+he might possibly get up a court-martial on some pretext or other, and
+justify himself afterwards by saying that the peace of the town required
+it.”
+
+“But what about the Cardinal? Would he consent to things of that kind?”
+
+“He has no jurisdiction in military affairs.”
+
+“No, but he has great influence. Surely the Governor would not venture
+on such a step without his consent?”
+
+“He'll never get that,” Marcone interrupted. “Montanelli was always
+against the military commissions, and everything of the kind. So long
+as they keep him in Brisighella nothing serious can happen; the Cardinal
+will always take the part of any prisoner. What I am afraid of is their
+taking him to Ravenna. Once there, he's lost.”
+
+“We shouldn't let him get there,” said Michele. “We could manage a
+rescue on the road; but to get him out of the fortress here is another
+matter.”
+
+“I think,” said Gemma; “that it would be quite useless to wait for the
+chance of his being transferred to Ravenna. We must make the attempt at
+Brisighella, and we have no time to lose. Cesare, you and I had better
+go over the plan of the fortress together, and see whether we can
+think out anything. I have an idea in my head, but I can't get over one
+point.”
+
+“Come, Marcone,” said Michele, rising; “we will leave them to think out
+their scheme. I have to go across to Fognano this afternoon, and I want
+you to come with me. Vincenzo hasn't sent those cartridges, and they
+ought to have been here yesterday.”
+
+When the two men had gone, Martini went up to Gemma and silently held
+out his hand. She let her fingers lie in his for a moment.
+
+“You were always a good friend, Cesare,” she said at last; “and a very
+present help in trouble. And now let us discuss plans.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+“AND I once more most earnestly assure Your Eminence that your refusal
+is endangering the peace of the town.”
+
+The Governor tried to preserve the respectful tone due to a high
+dignitary of the Church; but there was audible irritation in his voice.
+His liver was out of order, his wife was running up heavy bills, and
+his temper had been sorely tried during the last three weeks. A sullen,
+disaffected populace, whose dangerous mood grew daily more apparent; a
+district honeycombed with plots and bristling with hidden weapons; an
+inefficient garrison, of whose loyalty he was more than doubtful, and
+a Cardinal whom he had pathetically described to his adjutant as the
+“incarnation of immaculate pig-headedness,” had already reduced him
+to the verge of desperation. Now he was saddled with the Gadfly, an
+animated quintessence of the spirit of mischief.
+
+Having begun by disabling both the Governor's favourite nephew and
+his most valuable spy, the “crooked Spanish devil” had followed up his
+exploits in the market-place by suborning the guards, browbeating the
+interrogating officers, and “turning the prison into a bear-garden.”
+ He had now been three weeks in the fortress, and the authorities of
+Brisighella were heartily sick of their bargain. They had subjected
+him to interrogation upon interrogation; and after employing, to obtain
+admissions from him, every device of threat, persuasion, and stratagem
+which their ingenuity could suggest, remained just as wise as on the
+day of his capture. They had begun to realize that it would perhaps have
+been better to send him into Ravenna at once. It was, however, too late
+to rectify the mistake. The Governor, when sending in to the Legate his
+report of the arrest, had begged, as a special favour, permission to
+superintend personally the investigation of this case; and, his request
+having been graciously acceded to, he could not now withdraw without a
+humiliating confession that he was overmatched.
+
+The idea of settling the difficulty by a courtmartial had, as Gemma and
+Michele had foreseen, presented itself to him as the only satisfactory
+solution; and Cardinal Montanelli's stubborn refusal to countenance this
+was the last drop which made the cup of his vexations overflow.
+
+“I think,” he said, “that if Your Eminence knew what I and my assistants
+have put up with from this man you would feel differently about the
+matter. I fully understand and respect the conscientious objection to
+irregularities in judicial proceedings; but this is an exceptional case
+and calls for exceptional measures.”
+
+“There is no case,” Montanelli answered, “which calls for injustice; and
+to condemn a civilian by the judgment of a secret military tribunal is
+both unjust and illegal.”
+
+“The case amounts to this, Your Eminence: The prisoner is manifestly
+guilty of several capital crimes. He joined the infamous attempt of
+Savigno, and the military commission nominated by Monsignor Spinola
+would certainly have had him shot or sent to the galleys then, had
+he not succeeded in escaping to Tuscany. Since that time he has never
+ceased plotting. He is known to be an influential member of one of the
+most pestilent secret societies in the country. He is gravely suspected
+of having consented to, if not inspired, the assassination of no less
+than three confidential police agents. He has been caught--one might
+almost say--in the act of smuggling firearms into the Legation. He
+has offered armed resistance to authority and seriously wounded two
+officials in the discharge of their duty, and he is now a standing
+menace to the peace and order of the town. Surely, in such a case, a
+court-martial is justifiable.”
+
+“Whatever the man has done,” Montanelli replied, “he has the right to be
+judged according to law.”
+
+“The ordinary course of law involves delay, Your Eminence, and in this
+case every moment is precious. Besides everything else, I am in constant
+terror of his escaping.”
+
+“If there is any danger of that, it rests with you to guard him more
+closely.”
+
+“I do my best, Your Eminence, but I am dependent upon the prison staff,
+and the man seems to have bewitched them all. I have changed the guard
+four times within three weeks; I have punished the soldiers till I am
+tired of it, and nothing is of any use. I can't prevent their carrying
+letters backwards and forwards. The fools are in love with him as if he
+were a woman.”
+
+“That is very curious. There must be something remarkable about him.”
+
+“There's a remarkable amount of devilry--I beg pardon, Your Eminence,
+but really this man is enough to try the patience of a saint. It's
+hardly credible, but I have to conduct all the interrogations myself,
+for the regular officer cannot stand it any longer.”
+
+“How is that?”
+
+“It's difficult to explain. Your Eminence, but you would understand if
+you had once heard the way he goes on. One might think the interrogating
+officer were the criminal and he the judge.”
+
+“But what is there so terrible that he can do? He can refuse to answer
+your questions, of course; but he has no weapon except silence.”
+
+“And a tongue like a razor. We are all mortal, Your Eminence, and most
+of us have made mistakes in our time that we don't want published on the
+house-tops. That's only human nature, and it's hard on a man to have his
+little slips of twenty years ago raked up and thrown in his teeth----”
+
+“Has Rivarez brought up some personal secret of the interrogating
+officer?”
+
+“Well, really--the poor fellow got into debt when he was a cavalry
+officer, and borrowed a little sum from the regimental funds----”
+
+“Stole public money that had been intrusted to him, in fact?”
+
+“Of course it was very wrong, Your Eminence; but his friends paid
+it back at once, and the affair was hushed up,--he comes of a good
+family,--and ever since then he has been irreproachable. How Rivarez
+found out about it I can't conceive; but the first thing he did at
+interrogation was to bring up this old scandal--before the subaltern,
+too! And with as innocent a face as if he were saying his prayers! Of
+course the story's all over the Legation by now. If Your Eminence
+would only be present at one of the interrogations, I am sure you would
+realize---- He needn't know anything about it. You might overhear him
+from------”
+
+Montanelli turned round and looked at the Governor with an expression
+which his face did not often wear.
+
+“I am a minister of religion,” he said; “not a police-spy; and
+eavesdropping forms no part of my professional duties.”
+
+“I--I didn't mean to give offence------”
+
+“I think we shall not get any good out of discussing this question
+further. If you will send the prisoner here, I will have a talk with
+him.”
+
+“I venture very respectfully to advise Your Eminence not to attempt it.
+The man is perfectly incorrigible. It would be both safer and wiser to
+overstep the letter of the law for this once, and get rid of him before
+he does any more mischief. It is with great diffidence that I venture
+to press the point after what Your Eminence has said; but after all I am
+responsible to Monsignor the Legate for the order of the town------”
+
+“And I,” Montanelli interrupted, “am responsible to God and His Holiness
+that there shall be no underhand dealing in my diocese. Since you
+press me in the matter, colonel, I take my stand upon my privilege
+as Cardinal. I will not allow a secret court-martial in this town
+in peace-time. I will receive the prisoner here, and alone, at ten
+to-morrow morning.”
+
+“As Your Eminence pleases,” the Governor replied with sulky
+respectfulness; and went away, grumbling to himself: “They're about a
+pair, as far as obstinacy goes.”
+
+He told no one of the approaching interview till it was actually time to
+knock off the prisoner's chains and start for the palace. It was quite
+enough, as he remarked to his wounded nephew, to have this Most Eminent
+son of Balaam's ass laying down the law, without running any risk of the
+soldiers plotting with Rivarez and his friends to effect an escape on
+the way.
+
+When the Gadfly, strongly guarded, entered the room where Montanelli was
+writing at a table covered with papers, a sudden recollection came
+over him, of a hot midsummer afternoon when he had sat turning over
+manuscript sermons in a study much like this. The shutters had been
+closed, as they were here, to keep out the heat, and a fruitseller's
+voice outside had called: “Fragola! Fragola!”
+
+He shook the hair angrily back from his eyes and set his mouth in a
+smile.
+
+Montanelli looked up from his papers.
+
+“You can wait in the hall,” he said to the guards.
+
+“May it please Your Eminence,” began the sergeant, in a lowered voice
+and with evident nervousness, “the colonel thinks that this prisoner is
+dangerous and that it would be better------”
+
+A sudden flash came into Montanelli's eyes.
+
+“You can wait in the hall,” he repeated quietly; and the sergeant,
+saluting and stammering excuses with a frightened face, left the room
+with his men.
+
+“Sit down, please,” said the Cardinal, when the door was shut. The
+Gadfly obeyed in silence.
+
+“Signor Rivarez,” Montanelli began after a pause, “I wish to ask you a
+few questions, and shall be very much obliged to you if you will answer
+them.”
+
+The Gadfly smiled. “My ch-ch-chief occupation at p-p-present is to be
+asked questions.”
+
+“And--not to answer them? So I have heard; but these questions are put
+by officials who are investigating your case and whose duty is to use
+your answers as evidence.”
+
+“And th-those of Your Eminence?” There was a covert insult in the tone
+more than in the words, and the Cardinal understood it at once; but his
+face did not lose its grave sweetness of expression.
+
+“Mine,” he said, “whether you answer them or not, will remain between
+you and me. If they should trench upon your political secrets, of course
+you will not answer. Otherwise, though we are complete strangers to each
+other, I hope that you will do so, as a personal favour to me.”
+
+“I am ent-t-tirely at the service of Your Eminence.” He said it with a
+little bow, and a face that would have taken the heart to ask favours
+out of the daughters of the horse-leech.
+
+“First, then, you are said to have been smuggling firearms into this
+district. What are they wanted for?”
+
+“T-t-to k-k-kill rats with.”
+
+“That is a terrible answer. Are all your fellow-men rats in your eyes if
+they cannot think as you do?”
+
+“S-s-some of them.”
+
+Montanelli leaned back in his chair and looked at him in silence for a
+little while.
+
+“What is that on your hand?” he asked suddenly.
+
+The Gadfly glanced at his left hand. “Old m-m-marks from the teeth of
+some of the rats.”
+
+“Excuse me; I was speaking of the other hand. That is a fresh hurt.”
+
+The slender, flexible right hand was badly cut and grazed. The Gadfly
+held it up. The wrist was swollen, and across it ran a deep and long
+black bruise.
+
+“It is a m-m-mere trifle, as you see,” he said. “When I was arrested the
+other day,--thanks to Your Eminence,”--he made another little bow,--“one
+of the soldiers stamped on it.”
+
+Montanelli took the wrist and examined it closely. “How does it come
+to be in such a state now, after three weeks?” he asked. “It is all
+inflamed.”
+
+“Possibly the p-p-pressure of the iron has not done it much good.”
+
+The Cardinal looked up with a frown.
+
+“Have they been putting irons on a fresh wound?”
+
+“N-n-naturally, Your Eminence; that is what fresh wounds are for. Old
+wounds are not much use. They will only ache; you c-c-can't make them
+burn properly.”
+
+Montanelli looked at him again in the same close, scrutinizing way; then
+rose and opened a drawer full of surgical appliances.
+
+“Give me the hand,” he said.
+
+The Gadfly, with a face as hard as beaten iron, held out the hand,
+and Montanelli, after bathing the injured place, gently bandaged it.
+Evidently he was accustomed to such work.
+
+“I will speak about the irons,” he said. “And now I want to ask you
+another question: What do you propose to do?”
+
+“Th-th-that is very simply answered, Your Eminence. To escape if I can,
+and if I can't, to die.”
+
+“Why 'to die'?”
+
+“Because if the Governor doesn't succeed in getting me shot, I shall be
+sent to the galleys, and for me that c-c-comes to the same thing. I have
+not got the health to live through it.”
+
+Montanelli rested his arm on the table and pondered silently. The Gadfly
+did not disturb him. He was leaning back with half-shut eyes, lazily
+enjoying the delicious physical sensation of relief from the chains.
+
+“Supposing,” Montanelli began again, “that you were to succeed in
+escaping; what should you do with your life?”
+
+“I have already told Your Eminence; I should k-k-kill rats.”
+
+“You would kill rats. That is to say, that if I were to let you escape
+from here now,--supposing I had the power to do so,--you would use your
+freedom to foster violence and bloodshed instead of preventing them?”
+
+The Gadfly raised his eyes to the crucifix on the wall. “'Not peace,
+but a sword';--at l-least I should be in good company. For my own part,
+though, I prefer pistols.”
+
+“Signor Rivarez,” said the Cardinal with unruffled composure, “I have
+not insulted you as yet, or spoken slightingly of your beliefs or
+friends. May I not expect the same courtesy from you, or do you wish me
+to suppose that an atheist cannot be a gentleman?”
+
+“Ah, I q-quite forgot. Your Eminence places courtesy high among the
+Christian virtues. I remember your sermon in Florence, on the occasion
+of my c-controversy with your anonymous defender.”
+
+“That is one of the subjects about which I wished to speak to you. Would
+you mind explaining to me the reason of the peculiar bitterness you seem
+to feel against me? If you have simply picked me out as a convenient
+target, that is another matter. Your methods of political controversy
+are your own affair, and we are not discussing politics now. But I
+fancied at the time that there was some personal animosity towards me;
+and if so, I should be glad to know whether I have ever done you wrong
+or in any way given you cause for such a feeling.”
+
+Ever done him wrong! The Gadfly put up the bandaged hand to his throat.
+“I must refer Your Eminence to Shakspere,” he said with a little laugh.
+“It's as with the man who can't endure a harmless, necessary cat. My
+antipathy is a priest. The sight of the cassock makes my t-t-teeth
+ache.”
+
+“Oh, if it is only that----” Montanelli dismissed the subject with an
+indifferent gesture.
+
+“Still,” he added, “abuse is one thing and perversion of fact is
+another. When you stated, in answer to my sermon, that I knew the
+identity of the anonymous writer, you made a mistake,--I do not accuse
+you of wilful falsehood,--and stated what was untrue. I am to this day
+quite ignorant of his name.”
+
+The Gadfly put his head on one side, like an intelligent robin, looked
+at him for a moment gravely, then suddenly threw himself back and burst
+into a peal of laughter.
+
+“S-s-sancta simplicitas! Oh, you, sweet, innocent, Arcadian people--and
+you never guessed! You n-never saw the cloven hoof?”
+
+Montanelli stood up. “Am I to understand, Signor Rivarez, that you wrote
+both sides of the controversy yourself?”
+
+“It was a shame, I know,” the Gadfly answered, looking up with wide,
+innocent blue eyes. “And you s-s-swallowed everything whole; just as if
+it had been an oyster. It was very wrong; but oh, it w-w-was so funny!”
+
+Montanelli bit his lip and sat down again. He had realized from the
+first that the Gadfly was trying to make him lose his temper, and had
+resolved to keep it whatever happened; but he was beginning to find
+excuses for the Governor's exasperation. A man who had been spending two
+hours a day for the last three weeks in interrogating the Gadfly might
+be pardoned an occasional swear-word.
+
+“We will drop that subject,” he said quietly. “What I wanted to see you
+for particularly is this: My position here as Cardinal gives me some
+voice, if I choose to claim my privilege, in the question of what is
+to be done with you. The only use to which I should ever put such a
+privilege would be to interfere in case of any violence to you which was
+not necessary to prevent you from doing violence to others. I sent for
+you, therefore, partly in order to ask whether you have anything to
+complain of,--I will see about the irons; but perhaps there is something
+else,--and partly because I felt it right, before giving my opinion, to
+see for myself what sort of man you are.”
+
+“I have nothing to complain of, Your Eminence. 'A la guerre comme a la
+guerre.' I am not a schoolboy, to expect any government to pat me on the
+head for s-s-smuggling firearms onto its territory. It's only natural
+that they should hit as hard as they can. As for what sort of man I am,
+you have had a romantic confession of my sins once. Is not that enough;
+or w-w-would you like me to begin again?”
+
+“I don't understand you,” Montanelli said coldly, taking up a pencil and
+twisting it between his fingers.
+
+“Surely Your Eminence has not forgotten old Diego, the pilgrim?”
+ He suddenly changed his voice and began to speak as Diego: “I am a
+miserable sinner------”
+
+The pencil snapped in Montanelli's hand. “That is too much!” he said.
+
+The Gadfly leaned his head back with a soft little laugh, and sat
+watching while the Cardinal paced silently up and down the room.
+
+“Signor Rivarez,” said Montanelli, stopping at last in front of him,
+“you have done a thing to me that a man who was born of a woman should
+hesitate to do to his worst enemy. You have stolen in upon my private
+grief and have made for yourself a mock and a jest out of the sorrow
+of a fellow-man. I once more beg you to tell me: Have I ever done you
+wrong? And if not, why have you played this heartless trick on me?”
+
+The Gadfly, leaning back against the chair-cushions, looked up with his
+subtle, chilling, inscrutable smile.
+
+“It am-m-mused me, Your Eminence; you took it all so much to heart, and
+it rem-m-minded me--a little bit--of a variety show----”
+
+Montanelli, white to the very lips, turned away and rang the bell.
+
+“You can take back the prisoner,” he said when the guards came in.
+
+After they had gone he sat down at the table, still trembling with
+unaccustomed indignation, and took up a pile of reports which had been
+sent in to him by the parish priests of his diocese.
+
+Presently he pushed them away, and, leaning on the table, hid his face
+in both hands. The Gadfly seemed to have left some terrible shadow of
+himself, some ghostly trail of his personality, to haunt the room; and
+Montanelli sat trembling and cowering, not daring to look up lest he
+should see the phantom presence that he knew was not there. The spectre
+hardly amounted to a hallucination. It was a mere fancy of overwrought
+nerves; but he was seized with an unutterable dread of its shadowy
+presence--of the wounded hand, the smiling, cruel mouth, the mysterious
+eyes, like deep sea water----
+
+He shook off the fancy and settled to his work. All day long he had
+scarcely a free moment, and the thing did not trouble him; but going
+into his bedroom late at night, he stopped on the threshold with a
+sudden shock of fear. What if he should see it in a dream? He recovered
+himself immediately and knelt down before the crucifix to pray.
+
+But he lay awake the whole night through.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONTANELLI'S anger did not make him neglectful of his promise. He
+protested so emphatically against the manner in which the Gadfly had
+been chained that the unfortunate Governor, who by now was at his wit's
+end, knocked off all the fetters in the recklessness of despair. “How am
+I to know,” he grumbled to the adjutant, “what His Eminence will object
+to next? If he calls a simple pair of handcuffs 'cruelty,' he'll be
+exclaiming against the window-bars presently, or wanting me to feed
+Rivarez on oysters and truffles. In my young days malefactors were
+malefactors and were treated accordingly, and nobody thought a traitor
+any better than a thief. But it's the fashion to be seditious nowadays;
+and His Eminence seems inclined to encourage all the scoundrels in the
+country.”
+
+“I don't see what business he has got to interfere at all,” the adjutant
+remarked. “He is not a Legate and has no authority in civil and military
+affairs. By law------”
+
+“What is the use of talking about law? You can't expect anyone to
+respect laws after the Holy Father has opened the prisons and turned the
+whole crew of Liberal scamps loose on us! It's a positive infatuation!
+Of course Monsignor Montanelli will give himself airs; he was quiet
+enough under His Holiness the late Pope, but he's cock of the walk now.
+He has jumped into favour all at once and can do as he pleases. How am
+I to oppose him? He may have secret authorization from the Vatican, for
+all I know. Everything's topsy-turvy now; you can't tell from day to day
+what may happen next. In the good old times one knew what to be at, but
+nowadays------”
+
+The Governor shook his head ruefully. A world in which Cardinals
+troubled themselves over trifles of prison discipline and talked about
+the “rights” of political offenders was a world that was growing too
+complex for him.
+
+The Gadfly, for his part, had returned to the fortress in a state of
+nervous excitement bordering on hysteria. The meeting with Montanelli
+had strained his endurance almost to breaking-point; and his final
+brutality about the variety show had been uttered in sheer desperation,
+merely to cut short an interview which, in another five minutes, would
+have ended in tears.
+
+Called up for interrogation in the afternoon of the same day, he did
+nothing but go into convulsions of laughter at every question put to
+him; and when the Governor, worried out of all patience, lost his temper
+and began to swear, he only laughed more immoderately than ever.
+The unlucky Governor fumed and stormed and threatened his refractory
+prisoner with impossible punishments; but finally came, as James Burton
+had come long ago, to the conclusion that it was mere waste of breath
+and temper to argue with a person in so unreasonable a state of mind.
+
+The Gadfly was once more taken back to his cell; and there lay down upon
+the pallet, in the mood of black and hopeless depression which always
+succeeded to his boisterous fits. He lay till evening without moving,
+without even thinking; he had passed, after the vehement emotion of the
+morning, into a strange, half-apathetic state, in which his own misery
+was hardly more to him than a dull and mechanical weight, pressing on
+some wooden thing that had forgotten to be a soul. In truth, it was of
+little consequence how all ended; the one thing that mattered to any
+sentient being was to be spared unbearable pain, and whether the relief
+came from altered conditions or from the deadening of the power to
+feel, was a question of no moment. Perhaps he would succeed in escaping;
+perhaps they would kill him; in any case he should never see the Padre
+again, and it was all vanity and vexation of spirit.
+
+One of the warders brought in supper, and the Gadfly looked up with
+heavy-eyed indifference.
+
+“What time is it?”
+
+“Six o'clock. Your supper, sir.”
+
+He looked with disgust at the stale, foul-smelling, half-cold mess, and
+turned his head away. He was feeling bodily ill as well as depressed;
+and the sight of the food sickened him.
+
+“You will be ill if you don't eat,” said the soldier hurriedly. “Take a
+bit of bread, anyway; it'll do you good.”
+
+The man spoke with a curious earnestness of tone, lifting a piece
+of sodden bread from the plate and putting it down again. All the
+conspirator awoke in the Gadfly; he had guessed at once that there was
+something hidden in the bread.
+
+“You can leave it; I'll eat a bit by and by,” he said carelessly. The
+door was open, and he knew that the sergeant on the stairs could hear
+every word spoken between them.
+
+When the door was locked on him again, and he had satisfied himself that
+no one was watching at the spy-hole, he took up the piece of bread and
+carefully crumbled it away. In the middle was the thing he had expected,
+a bundle of small files. It was wrapped in a bit of paper, on which a
+few words were written. He smoothed the paper out carefully and carried
+it to what little light there was. The writing was crowded into so
+narrow a space, and on such thin paper, that it was very difficult to
+read.
+
+
+“The door is unlocked, and there is no moon. Get the filing done as fast
+as possible, and come by the passage between two and three. We are quite
+ready and may not have another chance.”
+
+
+He crushed the paper feverishly in his hand. All the preparations were
+ready, then, and he had only to file the window bars; how lucky it was
+that the chains were off! He need not stop about filing them. How many
+bars were there? Two, four; and each must be filed in two places: eight.
+Oh, he could manage that in the course of the night if he made
+haste---- How had Gemma and Martini contrived to get everything ready so
+quickly--disguises, passports, hiding-places? They must have worked like
+cart-horses to do it---- And it was her plan that had been adopted after
+all. He laughed a little to himself at his own foolishness; as if it
+mattered whether the plan was hers or not, once it was a good one! And
+yet he could not help being glad that it was she who had struck on
+the idea of his utilizing the subterranean passage, instead of letting
+himself down by a rope-ladder, as the smugglers had at first suggested.
+Hers was the more complex and difficult plan, but did not involve, as
+the other did, a risk to the life of the sentinel on duty outside the
+east wall. Therefore, when the two schemes had been laid before him, he
+had unhesitatingly chosen Gemma's.
+
+The arrangement was that the friendly guard who went by the nickname of
+“The Cricket” should seize the first opportunity of unlocking, without
+the knowledge of his fellows, the iron gate leading from the courtyard
+into the subterranean passage underneath the ramparts, and should then
+replace the key on its nail in the guard-room. The Gadfly, on receiving
+information of this, was to file through the bars of his window, tear
+his shirt into strips and plait them into a rope, by means of which he
+could let himself down on to the broad east wall of the courtyard. Along
+this wall he was to creep on hands and knees while the sentinel was
+looking in the opposite direction, lying flat upon the masonry whenever
+the man turned towards him. At the southeast corner was a half-ruined
+turret. It was upheld, to some extent, by a thick growth of ivy;
+but great masses of crumbling stone had fallen inward and lay in the
+courtyard, heaped against the wall. From this turret he was to climb
+down by the ivy and the heaps of stone into the courtyard; and, softly
+opening the unlocked gate, to make his way along the passage to a
+subterranean tunnel communicating with it. Centuries ago this tunnel
+had formed a secret corridor between the fortress and a tower on the
+neighbouring hill; now it was quite disused and blocked in many places
+by the falling in of the rocks. No one but the smugglers knew of a
+certain carefully-hidden hole in the mountain-side which they had
+bored through to the tunnel; no one suspected that stores of forbidden
+merchandise were often kept, for weeks together, under the very ramparts
+of the fortress itself, while the customs-officers were vainly searching
+the houses of the sullen, wrathful-eyed mountaineers. At this hole the
+Gadfly was to creep out on to the hillside, and make his way in the dark
+to a lonely spot where Martini and a smuggler would be waiting for him.
+The one great difficulty was that opportunities to unlock the gate after
+the evening patrol did not occur every night, and the descent from the
+window could not be made in very clear weather without too great a risk
+of being observed by the sentinel. Now that there was really a fair
+chance of success, it must not be missed.
+
+He sat down and began to eat some of the bread. It at least did not
+disgust him like the rest of the prison food, and he must eat something
+to keep up his strength.
+
+He had better lie down a bit, too, and try to get a little sleep; it
+would not be safe to begin filing before ten o'clock, and he would have
+a hard night's work.
+
+And so, after all, the Padre had been thinking of letting him escape!
+That was like the Padre. But he, for his part, would never consent to
+it. Anything rather than that! If he escaped, it should be his own doing
+and that of his comrades; he would have no favours from priests.
+
+How hot it was! Surely it must be going to thunder; the air was so close
+and oppressive. He moved restlessly on the pallet and put the bandaged
+right hand behind his head for a pillow; then drew it away again. How it
+burned and throbbed! And all the old wounds were beginning to ache, with
+a dull, faint persistence. What was the matter with them? Oh, absurd!
+It was only the thundery weather. He would go to sleep and get a little
+rest before beginning his filing.
+
+Eight bars, and all so thick and strong! How many more were there
+left to file? Surely not many. He must have been filing for
+hours,--interminable hours--yes, of course, that was what made his arm
+ache---- And how it ached; right through to the very bone! But it could
+hardly be the filing that made his side ache so; and the throbbing,
+burning pain in the lame leg--was that from filing?
+
+He started up. No, he had not been asleep; he had been dreaming with
+open eyes--dreaming of filing, and it was all still to do. There stood
+the window-bars, untouched, strong and firm as ever. And there was ten
+striking from the clock-tower in the distance. He must get to work.
+
+He looked through the spy-hole, and, seeing that no one was watching,
+took one of the files from his breast.
+
+    *****
+
+No, there was nothing the matter with him--nothing! It was all
+imagination. The pain in his side was indigestion, or a chill, or some
+such thing; not much wonder, after three weeks of this insufferable
+prison food and air. As for the aching and throbbing all over, it was
+partly nervous trouble and partly want of exercise. Yes, that was it, no
+doubt; want of exercise. How absurd not to have thought of that before!
+
+He would sit down a little bit, though, and let it pass before he got to
+work. It would be sure to go over in a minute or two.
+
+To sit still was worse than all. When he sat still he was at its mercy,
+and his face grew gray with fear. No, he must get up and set to work,
+and shake it off. It should depend upon his will to feel or not to feel;
+and he would not feel, he would force it back.
+
+He stood up again and spoke to himself, aloud and distinctly:
+
+“I am not ill; I have no time to be ill. I have those bars to file, and
+I am not going to be ill.”
+
+Then he began to file.
+
+A quarter-past ten--half-past ten--a quarter to eleven---- He filed and
+filed, and every grating scrape of the iron was as though someone were
+filing on his body and brain. “I wonder which will be filed through
+first,” he said to himself with a little laugh; “I or the bars?” And he
+set his teeth and went on filing.
+
+Half-past eleven. He was still filing, though the hand was stiff and
+swollen and would hardly grasp the tool. No, he dared not stop to rest;
+if he once put the horrible thing down he should never have the courage
+to begin again.
+
+The sentinel moved outside the door, and the butt end of his carbine
+scratched against the lintel. The Gadfly stopped and looked round, the
+file still in his lifted hand. Was he discovered?
+
+A little round pellet had been shot through the spy-hole and was lying
+on the floor. He laid down the file and stooped to pick up the round
+thing. It was a bit of rolled paper.
+
+    *****
+
+It was a long way to go down and down, with the black waves rushing
+about him--how they roared----!
+
+Ah, yes! He was only stooping down to pick up the paper. He was a bit
+giddy; many people are when they stoop. There was nothing the matter
+with him--nothing.
+
+He picked it up, carried it to the light, and unfolded it steadily.
+
+
+“Come to-night, whatever happens; the Cricket will be transferred
+to-morrow to another service. This is our only chance.”
+
+
+He destroyed the paper as he had done the former one, picked up his file
+again, and went back to work, dogged and mute and desperate.
+
+One o'clock. He had been working for three hours now, and six of the
+eight bars were filed. Two more, and then, to climb------
+
+He began to recall the former occasions when these terrible attacks had
+come on. The last had been the one at New Year; and he shuddered as
+he remembered those five nights. But that time it had not come on so
+suddenly; he had never known it so sudden.
+
+He dropped the file and flung out both hands blindly, praying, in his
+utter desperation, for the first time since he had been an atheist;
+praying to anything--to nothing--to everything.
+
+“Not to-night! Oh, let me be ill to-morrow! I will bear anything
+to-morrow--only not to-night!”
+
+He stood still for a moment, with both hands up to his temples; then he
+took up the file once more, and once more went back to his work.
+
+Half-past one. He had begun on the last bar. His shirt-sleeve was bitten
+to rags; there was blood on his lips and a red mist before his eyes, and
+the sweat poured from his forehead as he filed, and filed, and filed----
+
+    *****
+
+After sunrise Montanelli fell asleep. He was utterly worn out with the
+restless misery of the night and slept for a little while quietly; then
+he began to dream.
+
+At first he dreamed vaguely, confusedly; broken fragments of images and
+fancies followed each other, fleeting and incoherent, but all filled
+with the same dim sense of struggle and pain, the same shadow of
+indefinable dread. Presently he began to dream of sleeplessness; the
+old, frightful, familiar dream that had been a terror to him for years.
+And even as he dreamed he recognized that he had been through it all
+before.
+
+He was wandering about in a great empty place, trying to find some quiet
+spot where he could lie down and sleep. Everywhere there were people,
+walking up and down; talking, laughing, shouting; praying, ringing
+bells, and clashing metal instruments together. Sometimes he would get
+away to a little distance from the noise, and would lie down, now on the
+grass, now on a wooden bench, now on some slab of stone. He would shut
+his eyes and cover them with both hands to keep out the light; and would
+say to himself: “Now I will get to sleep.” Then the crowds would come
+sweeping up to him, shouting, yelling, calling him by name, begging him:
+“Wake up! Wake up, quick; we want you!”
+
+Again: he was in a great palace, full of gorgeous rooms, with beds and
+couches and low soft lounges. It was night, and he said to himself:
+“Here, at last, I shall find a quiet place to sleep.” But when he chose
+a dark room and lay down, someone came in with a lamp, flashing the
+merciless light into his eyes, and said: “Get up; you are wanted.”
+
+He rose and wandered on, staggering and stumbling like a creature
+wounded to death; and heard the clocks strike one, and knew that half
+the night was gone already--the precious night that was so short. Two,
+three, four, five--by six o'clock the whole town would wake up and there
+would be no more silence.
+
+He went into another room and would have lain down on a bed, but someone
+started up from the pillows, crying out: “This bed is mine!” and he
+shrank away with despair in his heart.
+
+Hour after hour struck, and still he wandered on and on, from room to
+room, from house to house, from corridor to corridor. The horrible gray
+dawn was creeping near and nearer; the clocks were striking five;
+the night was gone and he had found no rest. Oh, misery! Another
+day--another day!
+
+He was in a long, subterranean corridor, a low, vaulted passage
+that seemed to have no end. It was lighted with glaring lamps and
+chandeliers; and through its grated roof came the sounds of dancing
+and laughter and merry music. Up there, in the world of the live people
+overhead, there was some festival, no doubt. Oh, for a place to hide
+and sleep; some little place, were it even a grave! And as he spoke
+he stumbled over an open grave. An open grave, smelling of death and
+rottenness---- Ah, what matter, so he could but sleep!
+
+“This grave is mine!” It was Gladys; and she raised her head and stared
+at him over the rotting shroud. Then he knelt down and stretched out his
+arms to her.
+
+“Gladys! Gladys! Have a little pity on me; let me creep into this narrow
+space and sleep. I do not ask you for your love; I will not touch you,
+will not speak to you; only let me lie down beside you and sleep! Oh,
+love, it is so long since I have slept! I cannot bear another day. The
+light glares in upon my soul; the noise is beating my brain to dust.
+Gladys, let me come in here and sleep!”
+
+And he would have drawn her shroud across his eyes. But she shrank away,
+screaming:
+
+“It is sacrilege; you are a priest!”
+
+On and on he wandered, and came out upon the sea-shore, on the barren
+rocks where the fierce light struck down, and the water moaned its low,
+perpetual wail of unrest. “Ah!” he said; “the sea will be more merciful;
+it, too, is wearied unto death and cannot sleep.”
+
+Then Arthur rose up from the deep, and cried aloud:
+
+“This sea is mine!”
+
+    *****
+
+“Your Eminence! Your Eminence!”
+
+Montanelli awoke with a start. His servant was knocking at the door. He
+rose mechanically and opened it, and the man saw how wild and scared he
+looked.
+
+“Your Eminence--are you ill?”
+
+He drew both hands across his forehead.
+
+“No; I was asleep, and you startled me.”
+
+“I am very sorry; I thought I had heard you moving early this morning,
+and I supposed------”
+
+“Is it late now?”
+
+“It is nine o'clock, and the Governor has called. He says he has
+very important business, and knowing Your Eminence to be an early
+riser------”
+
+“Is he downstairs? I will come presently.”
+
+He dressed and went downstairs.
+
+“I am afraid this is an unceremonious way to call upon Your Eminence,”
+ the Governor began.
+
+“I hope there is nothing the matter?”
+
+“There is very much the matter. Rivarez has all but succeeded in
+escaping.”
+
+“Well, so long as he has not quite succeeded there is no harm done. How
+was it?”
+
+“He was found in the courtyard, right against the little iron gate.
+When the patrol came in to inspect the courtyard at three o'clock this
+morning one of the men stumbled over something on the ground; and when
+they brought the light up they found Rivarez lying across the path
+unconscious. They raised an alarm at once and called me up; and when I
+went to examine his cell I found all the window-bars filed through and
+a rope made of torn body-linen hanging from one of them. He had let
+himself down and climbed along the wall. The iron gate, which leads into
+the subterranean tunnels, was found to be unlocked. That looks as if the
+guards had been suborned.”
+
+“But how did he come to be lying across the path? Did he fall from the
+rampart and hurt himself?”
+
+“That is what I thought at first. Your Eminence; but the prison surgeon
+can't find any trace of a fall. The soldier who was on duty yesterday
+says that Rivarez looked very ill last night when he brought in the
+supper, and did not eat anything. But that must be nonsense; a sick man
+couldn't file those bars through and climb along that roof. It's not in
+reason.”
+
+“Does he give any account of himself?”
+
+“He is unconscious, Your Eminence.”
+
+“Still?”
+
+“He just half comes to himself from time to time and moans, and then
+goes off again.”
+
+“That is very strange. What does the doctor think?”
+
+“He doesn't know what to think. There is no trace of heart-disease that
+he can find to account for the thing; but whatever is the matter with
+him, it is something that must have come on suddenly, just when he had
+nearly managed to escape. For my part, I believe he was struck down by
+the direct intervention of a merciful Providence.”
+
+Montanelli frowned slightly.
+
+“What are you going to do with him?” he asked.
+
+“That is a question I shall settle in a very few days. In the meantime I
+have had a good lesson. That is what comes of taking off the irons--with
+all due respect to Your Eminence.”
+
+“I hope,” Montanelli interrupted, “that you will at least not replace
+the fetters while he is ill. A man in the condition you describe can
+hardly make any more attempts to escape.”
+
+“I shall take good care he doesn't,” the Governor muttered to himself as
+he went out. “His Eminence can go hang with his sentimental scruples for
+all I care. Rivarez is chained pretty tight now, and is going to stop
+so, ill or not.”
+
+    *****
+
+“But how can it have happened? To faint away at the last moment, when
+everything was ready; when he was at the very gate! It's like some
+hideous joke.”
+
+“I tell you,” Martini answered, “the only thing I can think of is that
+one of these attacks must have come on, and that he must have struggled
+against it as long as his strength lasted and have fainted from sheer
+exhaustion when he got down into the courtyard.”
+
+Marcone knocked the ashes savagely from his pipe.
+
+“Well, anyhow, that's the end of it; we can't do anything for him now,
+poor fellow.”
+
+“Poor fellow!” Martini echoed, under his breath. He was beginning to
+realise that to him, too, the world would look empty and dismal without
+the Gadfly.
+
+“What does she think?” the smuggler asked, glancing towards the other
+end of the room, where Gemma sat alone, her hands lying idly in her lap,
+her eyes looking straight before her into blank nothingness.
+
+“I have not asked her; she has not spoken since I brought her the news.
+We had best not disturb her just yet.”
+
+She did not appear to be conscious of their presence, but they both
+spoke with lowered voices, as though they were looking at a corpse.
+After a dreary little pause, Marcone rose and put away his pipe.
+
+“I will come back this evening,” he said; but Martini stopped him with a
+gesture.
+
+“Don't go yet; I want to speak to you.” He dropped his voice still lower
+and continued in almost a whisper:
+
+“Do you believe there is really no hope?”
+
+“I don't see what hope there can be now. We can't attempt it again. Even
+if he were well enough to manage his part of the thing, we couldn't
+do our share. The sentinels are all being changed, on suspicion. The
+Cricket won't get another chance, you may be sure.”
+
+“Don't you think,” Martini asked suddenly; “that, when he recovers,
+something might be done by calling off the sentinels?”
+
+“Calling off the sentinels? What do you mean?”
+
+“Well, it has occurred to me that if I were to get in the Governor's way
+when the procession passes close by the fortress on Corpus Domini day
+and fire in his face, all the sentinels would come rushing to get hold
+of me, and some of you fellows could perhaps help Rivarez out in the
+confusion. It really hardly amounts to a plan; it only came into my
+head.”
+
+“I doubt whether it could be managed,” Marcone answered with a very
+grave face. “Certainly it would want a lot of thinking out for anything
+to come of it. But”--he stopped and looked at Martini--“if it should be
+possible--would you do it?”
+
+Martini was a reserved man at ordinary times; but this was not an
+ordinary time. He looked straight into the smuggler's face.
+
+“Would I do it?” he repeated. “Look at her!”
+
+There was no need for further explanations; in saying that he had said
+all. Marcone turned and looked across the room.
+
+She had not moved since their conversation began. There was no doubt, no
+fear, even no grief in her face; there was nothing in it but the shadow
+of death. The smuggler's eyes filled with tears as he looked at her.
+
+“Make haste, Michele!” he said, throwing open the verandah door and
+looking out. “Aren't you nearly done, you two? There are a hundred and
+fifty things to do!”
+
+Michele, followed by Gino, came in from the verandah.
+
+“I am ready now,” he said. “I only want to ask the signora----”
+
+He was moving towards her when Martini caught him by the arm.
+
+“Don't disturb her; she's better alone.”
+
+“Let her be!” Marcone added. “We shan't do any good by meddling. God
+knows, it's hard enough on all of us; but it's worse for her, poor
+soul!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+FOR a week the Gadfly lay in a fearful state. The attack was a violent
+one, and the Governor, rendered brutal by fear and perplexity, had not
+only chained him hand and foot, but had insisted on his being bound to
+his pallet with leather straps, drawn so tight that he could not move
+without their cutting into the flesh. He endured everything with his
+dogged, bitter stoicism till the end of the sixth day. Then his pride
+broke down, and he piteously entreated the prison doctor for a dose
+of opium. The doctor was quite willing to give it; but the Governor,
+hearing of the request, sharply forbade “any such foolery.”
+
+“How do you know what he wants it for?” he said. “It's just as likely as
+not that he's shamming all the time and wants to drug the sentinel, or
+some such devilry. Rivarez is cunning enough for anything.”
+
+“My giving him a dose would hardly help him to drug the sentinel,”
+ replied the doctor, unable to suppress a smile. “And as for
+shamming--there's not much fear of that. He is as likely as not to die.”
+
+“Anyway, I won't have it given. If a man wants to be tenderly treated,
+he should behave accordingly. He has thoroughly deserved a little sharp
+discipline. Perhaps it will be a lesson to him not to play tricks with
+the window-bars again.”
+
+“The law does not admit of torture, though,” the doctor ventured to say;
+“and this is coming perilously near it.”
+
+“The law says nothing about opium, I think,” said the Governor
+snappishly.
+
+“It is for you to decide, of course, colonel; but I hope you will let
+the straps be taken off at any rate. They are a needless aggravation of
+his misery. There's no fear of his escaping now. He couldn't stand if
+you let him go free.”
+
+“My good sir, a doctor may make a mistake like other people, I suppose.
+I have got him safe strapped now, and he's going to stop so.”
+
+“At least, then, have the straps a little loosened. It is downright
+barbarity to keep them drawn so tight.”
+
+“They will stop exactly as they are; and I will thank you, sir, not to
+talk about barbarity to me. If I do a thing, I have a reason for it.”
+
+So the seventh night passed without any relief, and the soldier
+stationed on guard at the cell door crossed himself, shuddering, over
+and over again, as he listened all night long to heart-rending moans.
+The Gadfly's endurance was failing him at last.
+
+At six in the morning the sentinel, just before going off duty, unlocked
+the door softly and entered the cell. He knew that he was committing
+a serious breach of discipline, but could not bear to go away without
+offering the consolation of a friendly word.
+
+He found the Gadfly lying still, with closed eyes and parted lips. He
+stood silent for a moment; then stooped down and asked:
+
+“Can I do anything for you, sir? I have only a minute.”
+
+The Gadfly opened his eyes. “Let me alone!” he moaned. “Let me
+alone----”
+
+He was asleep almost before the soldier had slipped back to his post.
+
+Ten days afterwards the Governor called again at the palace, but found
+that the Cardinal had gone to visit a sick man at Pieve d'Ottavo, and
+was not expected home till the afternoon. That evening, just as he was
+sitting down to dinner, his servant came in to announce:
+
+“His Eminence would like to speak to you.”
+
+The Governor, with a hasty glance into the looking glass, to make sure
+that his uniform was in order, put on his most dignified air, and went
+into the reception room, where Montanelli was sitting, beating his hand
+gently on the arm of the chair and looking out of the window with an
+anxious line between his brows.
+
+“I heard that you called to-day,” he said, cutting short the Governor's
+polite speeches with a slightly imperious manner which he never adopted
+in speaking to the country folk. “It was probably on the business about
+which I have been wishing to speak to you.”
+
+“It was about Rivarez, Your Eminence.”
+
+“So I supposed. I have been thinking the matter over these last few
+days. But before we go into that, I should like to hear whether you have
+anything new to tell me.”
+
+The Governor pulled his moustaches with an embarrassed air.
+
+“The fact is, I came to know whether Your Eminence had anything to tell
+me. If you still have an objection to the course I proposed taking, I
+should be sincerely glad of your advice in the matter; for, honestly, I
+don't know what to do.”
+
+“Is there any new difficulty?”
+
+“Only that next Thursday is the 3d of June,--Corpus Domini,--and somehow
+or other the matter must be settled before then.”
+
+“Thursday is Corpus Domini, certainly; but why must it be settled
+especially before then?”
+
+“I am exceedingly sorry, Your Eminence, if I seem to oppose you, but I
+can't undertake to be responsible for the peace of the town if Rivarez
+is not got rid of before then. All the roughest set in the hills
+collects here for that day, as Your Eminence knows, and it is more than
+probable that they may attempt to break open the fortress gates and take
+him out. They won't succeed; I'll take care of that, if I have to sweep
+them from the gates with powder and shot. But we are very likely to have
+something of that kind before the day is over. Here in the Romagna there
+is bad blood in the people, and when once they get out their knives----”
+
+“I think with a little care we can prevent matters going as far as
+knives. I have always found the people of this district easy to get on
+with, if they are reasonably treated. Of course, if you once begin to
+threaten or coerce a Romagnol he becomes unmanageable. But have you any
+reason for supposing a new rescue scheme is intended?”
+
+“I heard, both this morning and yesterday, from confidential agents of
+mine, that a great many rumours are circulating all over the district
+and that the people are evidently up to some mischief or other. But
+one can't find out the details; if one could it would be easier to take
+precautions. And for my part, after the fright we had the other day, I
+prefer to be on the safe side. With such a cunning fox as Rivarez one
+can't be too careful.”
+
+“The last I heard about Rivarez was that he was too ill to move or
+speak. Is he recovering, then?”
+
+“He seems much better now, Your Eminence. He certainly has been very
+ill--unless he was shamming all the time.”
+
+“Have you any reason for supposing that likely?”
+
+“Well, the doctor seems convinced that it was all genuine; but it's a
+very mysterious kind of illness. Any way, he is recovering, and more
+intractable than ever.”
+
+“What has he done now?”
+
+“There's not much he can do, fortunately,” the Governor answered,
+smiling as he remembered the straps. “But his behaviour is something
+indescribable. Yesterday morning I went into the cell to ask him a
+few questions; he is not well enough yet to come to me for
+interrogation--and indeed, I thought it best not to run any risk of
+the people seeing him until he recovers. Such absurd stories always get
+about at once.”
+
+“So you went there to interrogate him?”
+
+“Yes, Your Eminence. I hoped he would be more amenable to reason now.”
+
+Montanelli looked him over deliberately, almost as if he had been
+inspecting a new and disagreeable animal. Fortunately, however, the
+Governor was fingering his sword-belt, and did not see the look. He went
+on placidly:
+
+“I have not subjected him to any particular severities, but I have been
+obliged to be rather strict with him--especially as it is a military
+prison--and I thought that perhaps a little indulgence might have a
+good effect. I offered to relax the discipline considerably if he would
+behave in a reasonable manner; and how does Your Eminence suppose he
+answered me? He lay looking at me a minute, like a wolf in a cage, and
+then said quite softly: 'Colonel, I can't get up and strangle you;
+but my teeth are pretty good; you had better take your throat a little
+further off.' He is as savage as a wild-cat.”
+
+“I am not surprised to hear it,” Montanelli answered quietly. “But I
+came to ask you a question. Do you honestly believe that the presence of
+Rivarez in the prison here constitutes a serious danger to the peace of
+the district?”
+
+“Most certainly I do, Your Eminence.”
+
+“You think that, to prevent the risk of bloodshed, it is absolutely
+necessary that he should somehow be got rid of before Corpus Domini?”
+
+“I can only repeat that if he is here on Thursday, I do not expect the
+festival to pass over without a fight, and I think it likely to be a
+serious one.”
+
+“And you think that if he were not here there would be no such danger?”
+
+“In that case, there would either be no disturbance at all, or at most
+a little shouting and stone-throwing. If Your Eminence can find some way
+of getting rid of him, I will undertake that the peace shall be kept.
+Otherwise, I expect most serious trouble. I am convinced that a new
+rescue plot is on hand, and Thursday is the day when we may expect the
+attempt. Now, if on that very morning they suddenly find that he is not
+in the fortress at all, their plan fails of itself, and they have no
+occasion to begin fighting. But if we have to repulse them, and the
+daggers once get drawn among such throngs of people, we are likely to
+have the place burnt down before nightfall.”
+
+“Then why do you not send him in to Ravenna?”
+
+“Heaven knows, Your Eminence, I should be thankful to do it! But how
+am I to prevent the people rescuing him on the way? I have not soldiers
+enough to resist an armed attack; and all these mountaineers have got
+knives or flint-locks or some such thing.”
+
+“You still persist, then, in wishing for a court-martial, and in asking
+my consent to it?”
+
+“Pardon me, Your Eminence; I ask you only one thing--to help me prevent
+riots and bloodshed. I am quite willing to admit that the military
+commissions, such as that of Colonel Freddi, were sometimes
+unnecessarily severe, and irritated instead of subduing the people; but
+I think that in this case a court-martial would be a wise measure and
+in the long run a merciful one. It would prevent a riot, which in itself
+would be a terrible disaster, and which very likely might cause a return
+of the military commissions His Holiness has abolished.”
+
+The Governor finished his little speech with much solemnity, and waited
+for the Cardinal's answer. It was a long time coming; and when it came
+was startlingly unexpected.
+
+“Colonel Ferrari, do you believe in God?”
+
+“Your Eminence!” the colonel gasped in a voice full of
+exclamation-stops.
+
+“Do you believe in God?” Montanelli repeated, rising and looking down at
+him with steady, searching eyes. The colonel rose too.
+
+“Your Eminence, I am a Christian man, and have never yet been refused
+absolution.”
+
+Montanelli lifted the cross from his breast.
+
+“Then swear on the cross of the Redeemer Who died for you, that you have
+been speaking the truth to me.”
+
+The colonel stood still and gazed at it blankly. He could not quite make
+up his mind which was mad, he or the Cardinal.
+
+“You have asked me,” Montanelli went on, “to give my consent to a man's
+death. Kiss the cross, if you dare, and tell me that you believe there
+is no other way to prevent greater bloodshed. And remember that if you
+tell me a lie you are imperilling your immortal soul.”
+
+After a little pause, the Governor bent down and put the cross to his
+lips.
+
+“I believe it,” he said.
+
+Montanelli turned slowly away.
+
+“I will give you a definite answer to-morrow. But first I must see
+Rivarez and speak to him alone.”
+
+“Your Eminence--if I might suggest--I am sure you will regret it. For
+that matter, he sent me a message yesterday, by the guard, asking to see
+Your Eminence; but I took no notice of it, because----”
+
+“Took no notice!” Montanelli repeated. “A man in such circumstances sent
+you a message, and you took no notice of it?”
+
+“I am sorry if Your Eminence is displeased. I did not wish to trouble
+you over a mere impertinence like that; I know Rivarez well enough by
+now to feel sure that he only wanted to insult you. And, indeed, if
+you will allow me to say so, it would be most imprudent to go near him
+alone; he is really dangerous--so much so, in fact, that I have thought
+it necessary to use some physical restraint of a mild kind------”
+
+“And you really think there is much danger to be apprehended from one
+sick and unarmed man, who is under physical restraint of a mild kind?”
+ Montanelli spoke quite gently, but the colonel felt the sting of his
+quiet contempt, and flushed under it resentfully.
+
+“Your Eminence will do as you think best,” he said in his stiffest
+manner. “I only wished to spare you the pain of hearing this man's awful
+blasphemies.”
+
+“Which do you think the more grievous misfortune for a Christian man;
+to hear a blasphemous word uttered, or to abandon a fellow-creature in
+extremity?”
+
+The Governor stood erect and stiff, with his official face, like a face
+of wood. He was deeply offended at Montanelli's treatment of him, and
+showed it by unusual ceremoniousness.
+
+“At what time does Your Eminence wish to visit the prisoner?” he asked.
+
+“I will go to him at once.”
+
+“As Your Eminence pleases. If you will kindly wait a few moments, I will
+send someone to prepare him.”
+
+The Governor had come down from his official pedestal in a great hurry.
+He did not want Montanelli to see the straps.
+
+“Thank you; I would rather see him as he is, without preparation. I will
+go straight up to the fortress. Good-evening, colonel; you may expect my
+answer to-morrow morning.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+HEARING the cell-door unlocked, the Gadfly turned away his eyes with
+languid indifference. He supposed that it was only the Governor, coming
+to worry him with another interrogation. Several soldiers mounted
+the narrow stair, their carbines clanking against the wall; then a
+deferential voice said: “It is rather steep here, Your Eminence.”
+
+He started convulsively, and then shrank down, catching his breath under
+the stinging pressure of the straps.
+
+Montanelli came in with the sergeant and three guards.
+
+“If Your Eminence will kindly wait a moment,” the sergeant began
+nervously, “one of my men will bring a chair. He has just gone to fetch
+it. Your Eminence will excuse us--if we had been expecting you, we
+should have been prepared.”
+
+“There is no need for any preparation. Will you kindly leave us alone,
+sergeant; and wait at the foot of the stairs with your men?”
+
+“Yes, Your Eminence. Here is the chair; shall I put it beside him?”
+
+The Gadfly was lying with closed eyes; but he felt that Montanelli was
+looking at him.
+
+“I think he is asleep, Your Eminence,” the sergeant was beginning, but
+the Gadfly opened his eyes.
+
+“No,” he said.
+
+As the soldiers were leaving the cell they were stopped by a sudden
+exclamation from Montanelli; and, turning back, saw that he was bending
+down to examine the straps.
+
+“Who has been doing this?” he asked. The sergeant fumbled with his cap.
+
+“It was by the Governor's express orders, Your Eminence.”
+
+“I had no idea of this, Signor Rivarez,” Montanelli said in a voice of
+great distress.
+
+“I told Your Eminence,” the Gadfly answered, with his hard smile, “that
+I n-n-never expected to be patted on the head.”
+
+“Sergeant, how long has this been going on?”
+
+“Since he tried to escape, Your Eminence.”
+
+“That is, nearly a week? Bring a knife and cut these off at once.”
+
+“May it please Your Eminence, the doctor wanted to take them off, but
+Colonel Ferrari wouldn't allow it.”
+
+“Bring a knife at once.” Montanelli had not raised his voice, but the
+soldiers could see that he was white with anger. The sergeant took a
+clasp-knife from his pocket, and bent down to cut the arm-strap. He
+was not a skilful-fingered man; and he jerked the strap tighter with an
+awkward movement, so that the Gadfly winced and bit his lip in spite of
+all his self-control. Montanelli came forward at once.
+
+“You don't know how to do it; give me the knife.”
+
+“Ah-h-h!” The Gadfly stretched out his arms with a long, rapturous sigh
+as the strap fell off. The next instant Montanelli had cut the other
+one, which bound his ankles.
+
+“Take off the irons, too, sergeant; and then come here. I want to speak
+to you.”
+
+He stood by the window, looking on, till the sergeant threw down the
+fetters and approached him.
+
+“Now,” he said, “tell me everything that has been happening.”
+
+The sergeant, nothing loath, related all that he knew of the
+Gadfly's illness, of the “disciplinary measures,” and of the doctor's
+unsuccessful attempt to interfere.
+
+“But I think, Your Eminence,” he added, “that the colonel wanted the
+straps kept on as a means of getting evidence.”
+
+“Evidence?”
+
+“Yes, Your Eminence; the day before yesterday I heard him offer to have
+them taken off if he”--with a glance at the Gadfly--“would answer a
+question he had asked.”
+
+Montanelli clenched his hand on the window-sill, and the soldiers
+glanced at one another: they had never seen the gentle Cardinal angry
+before. As for the Gadfly, he had forgotten their existence; he had
+forgotten everything except the physical sensation of freedom. He was
+cramped in every limb; and now stretched, and turned, and twisted about
+in a positive ecstasy of relief.
+
+“You can go now, sergeant,” the Cardinal said. “You need not feel
+anxious about having committed a breach of discipline; it was your duty
+to tell me when I asked you. See that no one disturbs us. I will come
+out when I am ready.”
+
+When the door had closed behind the soldiers, he leaned on the
+window-sill and looked for a while at the sinking sun, so as to leave
+the Gadfly a little more breathing time.
+
+“I have heard,” he said presently, leaving the window, and sitting down
+beside the pallet, “that you wish to speak to me alone. If you feel well
+enough to tell me what you wanted to say, I am at your service.”
+
+He spoke very coldly, with a stiff, imperious manner that was not
+natural to him. Until the straps were off, the Gadfly was to him simply
+a grievously wronged and tortured human being; but now he recalled their
+last interview, and the deadly insult with which it had closed. The
+Gadfly looked up, resting his head lazily on one arm. He possessed
+the gift of slipping into graceful attitudes; and when his face was in
+shadow no one would have guessed through what deep waters he had been
+passing. But, as he looked up, the clear evening light showed how
+haggard and colourless he was, and how plainly the trace of the last few
+days was stamped on him. Montanelli's anger died away.
+
+“I am afraid you have been terribly ill,” he said. “I am sincerely sorry
+that I did not know of all this. I would have put a stop to it before.”
+
+The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. “All's fair in war,” he said coolly.
+“Your Eminence objects to straps theoretically, from the Christian
+standpoint; but it is hardly fair to expect the colonel to see that.
+He, no doubt, would prefer not to try them on his own skin--which is
+j-j-just my case. But that is a matter of p-p-personal convenience. At
+this moment I am undermost--w-w-what would you have? It is very kind of
+Your Eminence, though, to call here; but perhaps that was done from the
+C-c-christian standpoint, too. Visiting prisoners--ah, yes! I forgot.
+'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the l-least of these'--it's not very
+complimentary, but one of the least is duly grateful.”
+
+“Signor Rivarez,” the Cardinal interrupted, “I have come here on your
+account--not on my own. If you had not been 'undermost,' as you call it,
+I should never have spoken to you again after what you said to me last
+week; but you have the double privilege of a prisoner and a sick man,
+and I could not refuse to come. Have you anything to say to me, now I am
+here; or have you sent for me merely to amuse yourself by insulting an
+old man?”
+
+There was no answer. The Gadfly had turned away, and was lying with one
+hand across his eyes.
+
+“I am--very sorry to trouble you,” he said at last, huskily; “but could
+I have a little water?”
+
+There was a jug of water standing by the window, and Montanelli rose
+and fetched it. As he slipped his arm round the Gadfly to lift him, he
+suddenly felt the damp, cold fingers close over his wrist like a vice.
+
+“Give me your hand--quick--just a moment,” the Gadfly whispered. “Oh,
+what difference does it make to you? Only one minute!”
+
+He sank down, hiding his face on Montanelli's arm, and quivering from
+head to foot.
+
+“Drink a little water,” Montanelli said after a moment. The Gadfly
+obeyed silently; then lay back on the pallet with closed eyes. He
+himself could have given no explanation of what had happened to him when
+Montanelli's hand had touched his cheek; he only knew that in all his
+life there had been nothing more terrible.
+
+Montanelli drew his chair closer to the pallet and sat down. The Gadfly
+was lying quite motionless, like a corpse, and his face was livid
+and drawn. After a long silence, he opened his eyes, and fixed their
+haunting, spectral gaze on the Cardinal.
+
+“Thank you,” he said. “I--am sorry. I think--you asked me something?”
+
+“You are not fit to talk. If there is anything you want to say to me, I
+will try to come again to-morrow.”
+
+“Please don't go, Your Eminence--indeed, there is nothing the matter
+with me. I--I have been a little upset these few days; it was half of it
+malingering, though--the colonel will tell you so if you ask him.”
+
+“I prefer to form my own conclusions,” Montanelli answered quietly.
+
+“S-so does the colonel. And occasionally, do you know, they are rather
+witty. You w-w-wouldn't think it to look at him; but s-s-sometimes he
+gets hold of an or-r-riginal idea. On Friday night, for instance--I
+think it was Friday, but I got a l-little mixed as to time towards
+the end--anyhow, I asked for a d-dose of opium--I remember that quite
+distinctly; and he came in here and said I m-might h-h-have it if I
+would tell him who un-l-l-locked the gate. I remember his saying: 'If
+it's real, you'll consent; if you don't, I shall look upon it as a
+p-proof that you are shamming.' It n-n-never oc-c-curred to me before
+how comic that is; it's one of the f-f-funniest things----”
+
+He burst into a sudden fit of harsh, discordant laughter; then, turning
+sharply on the silent Cardinal, went on, more and more hurriedly, and
+stammering so that the words were hardly intelligible:
+
+“You d-d-don't see that it's f-f-funny? Of c-course not; you r-religious
+people n-n-never have any s-sense of humour--you t-take everything
+t-t-tragically. F-for instance, that night in the Cath-thedral--how
+solemn you were! By the way--w-what a path-thetic figure I must
+have c-cut as the pilgrim! I d-don't believe you e-even see anything
+c-c-comic in the b-business you have c-come about this evening.”
+
+Montanelli rose.
+
+“I came to hear what you have to say; but I think you are too much
+excited to say it to-night. The doctor had better give you a sedative,
+and we will talk to-morrow, when you have had a night's sleep.”
+
+“S-sleep? Oh, I shall s-sleep well enough, Your Eminence, when you
+g-give your c-consent to the colonel's plan--an ounce of l-lead is a
+s-splendid sedative.”
+
+“I don't understand you,” Montanelli said, turning to him with a
+startled look.
+
+The Gadfly burst out laughing again.
+
+“Your Eminence, Your Eminence, t-t-truth is the c-chief of the Christian
+virtues! D-d-do you th-th-think I d-d-don't know how hard the Governor
+has been trying to g-get your consent to a court-martial? You had
+b-better by half g-give it, Your Eminence; it's only w-what all your
+b-brother prelates would do in your place. 'Cosi fan tutti;' and then
+you would be doing s-such a lot of good, and so l-little harm! Really,
+it's n-not worth all the sleepless nights you have been spending over
+it!”
+
+“Please stop laughing a minute,” Montanelli interrupted, “and tell me
+how you heard all this. Who has been talking to you about it?”
+
+“H-hasn't the colonel e-e-ever told you I am a d-d-devil--not a man? No?
+He has t-told me so often enough! Well, I am devil enough to f-find
+out a little bit what p-people are thinking about. Your E-eminence is
+thinking that I'm a conf-founded nuisance, and you wish s-somebody
+else had to settle what's to be done with me, without disturbing your
+s-sensitive conscience. That's a p-pretty fair guess, isn't it?”
+
+“Listen to me,” the Cardinal said, sitting down again beside him, with
+a very grave face. “However you found out all this, it is quite true.
+Colonel Ferrari fears another rescue attempt on the part of your
+friends, and wishes to forestall it in--the way you speak of. You see, I
+am quite frank with you.”
+
+“Your E-eminence was always f-f-famous for truthfulness,” the Gadfly put
+in bitterly.
+
+“You know, of course,” Montanelli went on, “that legally I have no
+jurisdiction in temporal matters; I am a bishop, not a legate. But I
+have a good deal of influence in this district; and the colonel will
+not, I think, venture to take so extreme a course unless he can get,
+at least, my tacit consent to it. Up till now I have unconditionally
+opposed the scheme; and he has been trying very hard to conquer my
+objection by assuring me that there is great danger of an armed attempt
+on Thursday when the crowd collects for the procession--an attempt which
+probably would end in bloodshed. Do you follow me?”
+
+The Gadfly was staring absently out of the window. He looked round and
+answered in a weary voice:
+
+“Yes, I am listening.”
+
+“Perhaps you are really not well enough to stand this conversation
+to-night. Shall I come back in the morning? It is a very serious matter,
+and I want your whole attention.”
+
+“I would rather get it over now,” the Gadfly answered in the same tone.
+“I follow everything you say.”
+
+“Now, if it be true,” Montanelli went on, “that there is any real danger
+of riots and bloodshed on account of you, I am taking upon myself a
+tremendous responsibility in opposing the colonel; and I believe there
+is at least some truth in what he says. On the other hand, I am inclined
+to think that his judgment is warped, to a certain extent, by his
+personal animosity against you, and that he probably exaggerates the
+danger. That seems to me the more likely since I have seen this shameful
+brutality.” He glanced at the straps and chains lying on the floor, and
+went on:
+
+“If I consent, I kill you; if I refuse, I run the risk of killing
+innocent persons. I have considered the matter earnestly, and have
+sought with all my heart for a way out of this dreadful alternative. And
+now at last I have made up my mind.”
+
+“To kill me and s-save the innocent persons, of course--the only
+decision a Christian man could possibly come to. 'If thy r-right hand
+offend thee,' etc. I have n-not the honour to be the right hand of Your
+Eminence, and I have offended you; the c-c-conclusion is plain. Couldn't
+you tell me that without so much preamble?”
+
+The Gadfly spoke with languid indifference and contempt, like a man
+weary of the whole subject.
+
+“Well?” he added after a little pause. “Was that the decision, Your
+Eminence?”
+
+“No.”
+
+The Gadfly shifted his position, putting both hands behind his head, and
+looked at Montanelli with half-shut eyes. The Cardinal, with his head
+sunk down as in deep thought, was softly beating one hand on the arm of
+his chair. Ah, that old, familiar gesture!
+
+“I have decided,” he said, raising his head at last, “to do, I suppose,
+an utterly unprecedented thing. When I heard that you had asked to see
+me, I resolved to come here and tell you everything, as I have done, and
+to place the matter in your own hands.”
+
+“In--my hands?”
+
+“Signor Rivarez, I have not come to you as cardinal, or as bishop, or
+as judge; I have come to you as one man to another. I do not ask you to
+tell me whether you know of any such scheme as the colonel apprehends.
+I understand quite well that, if you do, it is your secret and you will
+not tell it. But I do ask you to put yourself in my place. I am old,
+and, no doubt, have not much longer to live. I would go down to my grave
+without blood on my hands.”
+
+“Is there none on them as yet, Your Eminence?”
+
+Montanelli grew a shade paler, but went on quietly:
+
+“All my life I have opposed repressive measures and cruelty wherever I
+have met with them. I have always disapproved of capital punishment in
+all its forms; I have protested earnestly and repeatedly against the
+military commissions in the last reign, and have been out of favour
+on account of doing so. Up till now such influence and power as I have
+possessed have always been employed on the side of mercy. I ask you to
+believe me, at least, that I am speaking the truth. Now, I am placed in
+this dilemma. By refusing, I am exposing the town to the danger of
+riots and all their consequences; and this to save the life of a man
+who blasphemes against my religion, who has slandered and wronged and
+insulted me personally (though that is comparatively a trifle), and who,
+as I firmly believe, will put that life to a bad use when it is given to
+him. But--it is to save a man's life.”
+
+He paused a moment, and went on again:
+
+“Signor Rivarez, everything that I know of your career seems to me bad
+and mischievous; and I have long believed you to be reckless and violent
+and unscrupulous. To some extent I hold that opinion of you still. But
+during this last fortnight you have shown me that you are a brave man
+and that you can be faithful to your friends. You have made the soldiers
+love and admire you, too; and not every man could have done that.
+I think that perhaps I have misjudged you, and that there is in you
+something better than what you show outside. To that better self in
+you I appeal, and solemnly entreat you, on your conscience, to tell me
+truthfully--in my place, what would you do?”
+
+A long silence followed; then the Gadfly looked up.
+
+“At least, I would decide my own actions for myself, and take the
+consequences of them. I would not come sneaking to other people, in the
+cowardly Christian way, asking them to solve my problems for me!”
+
+The onslaught was so sudden, and its extraordinary vehemence and passion
+were in such startling contrast to the languid affectation of a moment
+before, that it was as though he had thrown off a mask.
+
+“We atheists,” he went on fiercely, “understand that if a man has a
+thing to bear, he must bear it as best he can; and if he sinks under
+it--why, so much the worse for him. But a Christian comes whining to his
+God, or his saints; or, if they won't help him, to his enemies--he can
+always find a back to shift his burdens on to. Isn't there a rule to go
+by in your Bible, or your Missal, or any of your canting theology books,
+that you must come to me to tell you what to do? Heavens and earth, man!
+Haven't I enough as it is, without your laying your responsibilities on
+my shoulders? Go back to your Jesus; he exacted the uttermost farthing,
+and you'd better do the same. After all, you'll only be killing an
+atheist--a man who boggles over 'shibboleth'; and that's no great crime,
+surely!”
+
+He broke off, panting for breath, and then burst out again:
+
+“And YOU to talk of cruelty! Why, that p-p-pudding-headed ass couldn't
+hurt me as much as you do if he tried for a year; he hasn't got the
+brains. All he can think of is to pull a strap tight, and when he can't
+get it any tighter he's at the end of his resources. Any fool can
+do that! But you---- 'Sign your own death sentence, please; I'm too
+tender-hearted to do it myself.' Oh! it would take a Christian to hit on
+that--a gentle, compassionate Christian, that turns pale at the sight of
+a strap pulled too tight! I might have known when you came in, like an
+angel of mercy--so shocked at the colonel's 'barbarity'--that the real
+thing was going to begin! Why do you look at me that way? Consent, man,
+of course, and go home to your dinner; the thing's not worth all this
+fuss. Tell your colonel he can have me shot, or hanged, or whatever
+comes handiest--roasted alive, if it's any amusement to him--and be done
+with it!”
+
+The Gadfly was hardly recognizable; he was beside himself with rage
+and desperation, panting and quivering, his eyes glittering with green
+reflections like the eyes of an angry cat.
+
+Montanelli had risen, and was looking down at him silently. He did not
+understand the drift of the frenzied reproaches, but he understood out
+of what extremity they were uttered; and, understanding that, forgave
+all past insults.
+
+“Hush!” he said. “I did not want to hurt you so. Indeed, I never meant
+to shift my burden on to you, who have too much already. I have never
+consciously done that to any living creature----”
+
+“It's a lie!” the Gadfly cried out with blazing eyes. “And the
+bishopric?”
+
+“The--bishopric?”
+
+“Ah! you've forgotten that? It's so easy to forget! 'If you wish it,
+Arthur, I will say I cannot go. I was to decide your life for you--I, at
+nineteen! If it weren't so hideous, it would be funny.”
+
+“Stop!” Montanelli put up both hands to his head with a desperate cry.
+He let them fall again, and walked slowly away to the window. There
+he sat down on the sill, resting one arm on the bars, and pressing his
+forehead against it. The Gadfly lay and watched him, trembling.
+
+Presently Montanelli rose and came back, with lips as pale as ashes.
+
+“I am very sorry,” he said, struggling piteously to keep up his usual
+quiet manner, “but I must go home. I--am not quite well.”
+
+He was shivering as if with ague. All the Gadfly's fury broke down.
+
+“Padre, can't you see----”
+
+Montanelli shrank away, and stood still.
+
+“Only not that!” he whispered at last. “My God, anything but that! If I
+am going mad----”
+
+The Gadfly raised himself on one arm, and took the shaking hands in his.
+
+“Padre, will you never understand that I am not really drowned?”
+
+The hands grew suddenly cold and stiff. For a moment everything was dead
+with silence, and then Montanelli knelt down and hid his face on the
+Gadfly's breast.
+
+    *****
+
+When he raised his head the sun had set, and the red glow was dying in
+the west. They had forgotten time and place, and life and death; they
+had forgotten, even, that they were enemies.
+
+“Arthur,” Montanelli whispered, “are you real? Have you come back to me
+from the dead?”
+
+“From the dead----” the Gadfly repeated, shivering. He was lying with
+his head on Montanelli's arm, as a sick child might lie in its mother's
+embrace.
+
+“You have come back--you have come back at last!”
+
+The Gadfly sighed heavily. “Yes,” he said; “and you have to fight me, or
+to kill me.”
+
+“Oh, hush, carino! What is all that now? We have been like two children
+lost in the dark, mistaking one another for phantoms. Now we have found
+each other, and have come out into the light. My poor boy, how changed
+you are--how changed you are! You look as if all the ocean of the
+world's misery had passed over your head--you that used to be so full of
+the joy of life! Arthur, is it really you? I have dreamed so often that
+you had come back to me; and then have waked and seen the outer darkness
+staring in upon an empty place. How can I know I shall not wake again
+and find it all a dream? Give me something tangible--tell me how it all
+happened.”
+
+“It happened simply enough. I hid on a goods vessel, as stowaway, and
+got out to South America.”
+
+“And there?”
+
+“There I--lived, if you like to call it so, till--oh, I have seen
+something else besides theological seminaries since you used to teach me
+philosophy! You say you have dreamed of me--yes, and much! You say you
+have dreamed of me--yes, and I of you----”
+
+He broke off, shuddering.
+
+“Once,” he began again abruptly, “I was working at a mine in
+Ecuador----”
+
+“Not as a miner?”
+
+“No, as a miner's fag--odd-jobbing with the coolies. We had a barrack to
+sleep in at the pit's mouth; and one night--I had been ill, the same
+as lately, and carrying stones in the blazing sun--I must have got
+light-headed, for I saw you come in at the door-way. You were holding a
+crucifix like that one on the wall. You were praying, and brushed past
+me without turning. I cried out to you to help me--to give me poison
+or a knife--something to put an end to it all before I went mad. And
+you--ah------!”
+
+He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli was still clasping the
+other.
+
+“I saw in your face that you had heard, but you never looked round;
+you went on with your prayers. When you had finished, and kissed the
+crucifix, you glanced round and whispered: 'I am very sorry for you,
+Arthur; but I daren't show it; He would be angry.' And I looked at Him,
+and the wooden image was laughing.
+
+“Then, when I came to my senses, and saw the barrack and the coolies
+with their leprosy, I understood. I saw that you care more to curry
+favour with that devilish God of yours than to save me from any hell.
+And I have remembered that. I forgot just now when you touched me;
+I--have been ill, and I used to love you once. But there can be nothing
+between us but war, and war, and war. What do you want to hold my hand
+for? Can't you see that while you believe in your Jesus we can't be
+anything but enemies?”
+
+Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand.
+
+“Arthur, how can I help believing in Him? If I have kept my faith
+through all these frightful years, how can I ever doubt Him any more,
+now that He has given you back to me? Remember, I thought I had killed
+you.”
+
+“You have that still to do.”
+
+“Arthur!” It was a cry of actual terror; but the Gadfly went on,
+unheeding:
+
+“Let us be honest, whatever we do, and not shilly-shally. You and I
+stand on two sides of a pit, and it's hopeless trying to join hands
+across it. If you have decided that you can't, or won't, give up that
+thing”--he glanced again at the crucifix on the wall--“you must consent
+to what the colonel----”
+
+“Consent! My God--consent--Arthur, but I love you!”
+
+The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully.
+
+“Which do you love best, me or that thing?”
+
+Montanelli slowly rose. The very soul in him withered with dread, and
+he seemed to shrivel up bodily, and to grow feeble, and old, and wilted,
+like a leaf that the frost has touched. He had awaked out of his dream,
+and the outer darkness was staring in upon an empty place.
+
+“Arthur, have just a little mercy on me----”
+
+“How much had you for me when your lies drove me out to be slave to
+the blacks on the sugar-plantations? You shudder at that--ah, these
+tender-hearted saints! This is the man after God's own heart--the man
+that repents of his sin and lives. No one dies but his son. You say you
+love me,--your love has cost me dear enough! Do you think I can blot out
+everything, and turn back into Arthur at a few soft words--I, that have
+been dish-washer in filthy half-caste brothels and stable-boy to Creole
+farmers that were worse brutes than their own cattle? I, that have
+been zany in cap and bells for a strolling variety show--drudge and
+Jack-of-all-trades to the matadors in the bull-fighting ring; I, that
+have been slave to every black beast who cared to set his foot on my
+neck; I, that have been starved and spat upon and trampled under foot;
+I, that have begged for mouldy scraps and been refused because the dogs
+had the first right? Oh, what is the use of all this! How can I TELL you
+what you have brought on me? And now--you love me! How much do you love
+me? Enough to give up your God for me? Oh, what has He done for you,
+this everlasting Jesus,--what has He suffered for you, that you should
+love Him more than me? Is it for the pierced hands He is so dear to you?
+Look at mine! Look here, and here, and here----”
+
+He tore open his shirt and showed the ghastly scars.
+
+“Padre, this God of yours is an impostor, His wounds are sham wounds,
+His pain is all a farce! It is I that have the right to your heart!
+Padre, there is no torture you have not put me to; if you could only
+know what my life has been! And yet I would not die! I have endured it
+all, and have possessed my soul in patience, because I would come
+back and fight this God of yours. I have held this purpose as a shield
+against my heart, and it has saved me from madness, and from the second
+death. And now, when I come back, I find Him still in my place--this
+sham victim that was crucified for six hours, forsooth, and rose again
+from the dead! Padre, I have been crucified for five years, and I, too,
+have risen from the dead. What are you going to do with me? What are you
+going to do with me?”
+
+He broke down. Montanelli sat like some stone image, or like a dead man
+set upright. At first, under the fiery torrent of the Gadfly's despair,
+he had quivered a little, with the automatic shrinking of the flesh,
+as under the lash of a whip; but now he was quite still. After a long
+silence he looked up and spoke, lifelessly, patiently:
+
+“Arthur, will you explain to me more clearly? You confuse and terrify me
+so, I can't understand. What is it you demand of me?”
+
+The Gadfly turned to him a spectral face.
+
+“I demand nothing. Who shall compel love? You are free to choose between
+us two the one who is most dear to you. If you love Him best, choose
+Him.”
+
+“I can't understand,” Montanelli repeated wearily. “What is there I can
+choose? I cannot undo the past.”
+
+“You have to choose between us. If you love me, take that cross off your
+neck and come away with me. My friends are arranging another attempt,
+and with your help they could manage it easily. Then, when we are safe
+over the frontier, acknowledge me publicly. But if you don't love me
+enough for that,--if this wooden idol is more to you than I,--then go
+to the colonel and tell him you consent. And if you go, then go at once,
+and spare me the misery of seeing you. I have enough without that.”
+
+Montanelli looked up, trembling faintly. He was beginning to understand.
+
+“I will communicate with your friends, of course. But--to go with
+you--it is impossible--I am a priest.”
+
+“And I accept no favours from priests. I will have no more compromises,
+Padre; I have had enough of them, and of their consequences. You must
+give up your priesthood, or you must give up me.”
+
+“How can I give you up? Arthur, how can I give you up?”
+
+“Then give up Him. You have to choose between us. Would you offer me a
+share of your love--half for me, half for your fiend of a God? I will
+not take His leavings. If you are His, you are not mine.”
+
+“Would you have me tear my heart in two? Arthur! Arthur! Do you want to
+drive me mad?”
+
+The Gadfly struck his hand against the wall.
+
+“You have to choose between us,” he repeated once more.
+
+Montanelli drew from his breast a little case containing a bit of soiled
+and crumpled paper.
+
+“Look!” he said.
+
+
+“I believed in you, as I believed in God. God is a thing made of clay,
+that I can smash with a hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie.”
+
+
+The Gadfly laughed and handed it back. “How d-d-delightfully young one
+is at nineteen! To take a hammer and smash things seems so easy. It's
+that now--only it's I that am under the hammer. As for you, there are
+plenty of other people you can fool with lies--and they won't even find
+you out.”
+
+“As you will,” Montanelli said. “Perhaps in your place I should be as
+merciless as you--God knows. I can't do what you ask, Arthur; but I will
+do what I can. I will arrange your escape, and when you are safe I will
+have an accident in the mountains, or take the wrong sleeping-draught by
+mistake--whatever you like to choose. Will that content you? It is all
+I can do. It is a great sin; but I think He will forgive me. He is more
+merciful------”
+
+The Gadfly flung out both hands with a sharp cry.
+
+“Oh, that is too much! That is too much! What have I done that you
+should think of me that way? What right have you---- As if I wanted to
+be revenged on you! Can't you see that I only want to save you? Will you
+never understand that I love you?”
+
+He caught hold of Montanelli's hands and covered them with burning
+kisses and tears.
+
+“Padre, come away with us! What have you to do with this dead world of
+priests and idols? They are full of the dust of bygone ages; they are
+rotten; they are pestilent and foul! Come out of this plague-stricken
+Church--come away with us into the light! Padre, it is we that are life
+and youth; it is we that are the everlasting springtime; it is we that
+are the future! Padre, the dawn is close upon us--will you miss
+your part in the sunrise? Wake up, and let us forget the horrible
+nightmares,--wake up, and we will begin our life again! Padre, I have
+always loved you--always, even when you killed me--will you kill me
+again?”
+
+Montanelli tore his hands away. “Oh, God have mercy on me!” he cried
+out. “YOU HAVE YOUR MOTHER'S EYES!”
+
+A strange silence, long and deep and sudden, fell upon them both. In the
+gray twilight they looked at each other, and their hearts stood still
+with fear.
+
+“Have you anything more to say?” Montanelli whispered. “Any--hope to
+give me?”
+
+“No. My life is of no use to me except to fight priests. I am not a man;
+I am a knife. If you let me live, you sanction knives.”
+
+Montanelli turned to the crucifix. “God! Listen to this----”
+
+His voice died away into the empty stillness without response. Only the
+mocking devil awoke again in the Gadfly.
+
+“'C-c-call him louder; perchance he s-s-sleepeth'----”
+
+Montanelli started up as if he had been struck. For a moment he stood
+looking straight before him;--then he sat down on the edge of the
+pallet, covered his face with both hands, and burst into tears. A long
+shudder passed through the Gadfly, and the damp cold broke out on his
+body. He knew what the tears meant.
+
+He drew the blanket over his head that he might not hear. It was enough
+that he had to die--he who was so vividly, magnificently alive. But he
+could not shut out the sound; it rang in his ears, it beat in his brain,
+it throbbed in all his pulses. And still Montanelli sobbed and sobbed,
+and the tears dripped down between his fingers.
+
+He left off sobbing at last, and dried his eyes with his handkerchief,
+like a child that has been crying. As he stood up the handkerchief
+slipped from his knee and fell to the floor.
+
+“There is no use in talking any more,” he said. “You understand?”
+
+“I understand,” the Gadfly answered, with dull submission. “It's not
+your fault. Your God is hungry, and must be fed.”
+
+Montanelli turned towards him. The grave that was to be dug was not more
+still than they were. Silent, they looked into each other's eyes, as two
+lovers, torn apart, might gaze across the barrier they cannot pass.
+
+It was the Gadfly whose eyes sank first. He shrank down, hiding his
+face; and Montanelli understood that the gesture meant “Go!” He turned,
+and went out of the cell. A moment later the Gadfly started up.
+
+“Oh, I can't bear it! Padre, come back! Come back!”
+
+The door was shut. He looked around him slowly, with a wide, still gaze,
+and understood that all was over. The Galilean had conquered.
+
+All night long the grass waved softly in the courtyard below--the grass
+that was so soon to wither, uprooted by the spade; and all night long
+the Gadfly lay alone in the darkness, and sobbed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE court-martial was held on Tuesday morning. It was a very short and
+simple affair; a mere formality, occupying barely twenty minutes. There
+was, indeed, nothing to spend much time over; no defence was allowed,
+and the only witnesses were the wounded spy and officer and a few
+soldiers. The sentence was drawn up beforehand; Montanelli had sent in
+the desired informal consent; and the judges (Colonel Ferrari, the local
+major of dragoons, and two officers of the Swiss guards) had little to
+do. The indictment was read aloud, the witnesses gave their evidence,
+and the signatures were affixed to the sentence, which was then read to
+the condemned man with befitting solemnity. He listened in silence; and
+when asked, according to the usual form, whether he had anything to say,
+merely waved the question aside with an impatient movement of his hand.
+Hidden on his breast was the handkerchief which Montanelli had let fall.
+It had been kissed and wept over all night, as though it were a living
+thing. Now he looked wan and spiritless, and the traces of tears were
+still about his eyelids; but the words: “to be shot,” did not seem to
+affect him much. When they were uttered, the pupils of his eyes dilated,
+but that was all.
+
+“Take him back to his cell,” the Governor said, when all the formalities
+were over; and the sergeant, who was evidently near to breaking down,
+touched the motionless figure on the shoulder. The Gadfly looked round
+him with a little start.
+
+“Ah, yes!” he said. “I forgot.”
+
+There was something almost like pity in the Governor's face. He was not
+a cruel man by nature, and was secretly a little ashamed of the part
+he had been playing during the last month. Now that his main point was
+gained he was willing to make every little concession in his power.
+
+“You needn't put the irons on again,” he said, glancing at the bruised
+and swollen wrists. “And he can stay in his own cell. The condemned cell
+is wretchedly dark and gloomy,” he added, turning to his nephew; “and
+really the thing's a mere formality.”
+
+He coughed and shifted his feet in evident embarrassment; then called
+back the sergeant, who was leaving the room with his prisoner.
+
+“Wait, sergeant; I want to speak to him.”
+
+The Gadfly did not move, and the Governor's voice seemed to fall on
+unresponsive ears.
+
+“If you have any message you would like conveyed to your friends or
+relatives---- You have relatives, I suppose?”
+
+There was no answer.
+
+“Well, think it over and tell me, or the priest. I will see it is not
+neglected. You had better give your messages to the priest; he shall
+come at once, and stay the night with you. If there is any other
+wish----”
+
+The Gadfly looked up.
+
+“Tell the priest I would rather be alone. I have no friends and no
+messages.”
+
+“But you will want to confess.”
+
+“I am an atheist. I want nothing but to be left in peace.”
+
+He said it in a dull, quiet voice, without defiance or irritation; and
+turned slowly away. At the door he stopped again.
+
+“I forgot, colonel; there is a favour I wanted to ask. Don't let them
+tie me or bandage my eyes to-morrow, please. I will stand quite still.”
+
+    *****
+
+At sunrise on Wednesday morning they brought him out into the courtyard.
+His lameness was more than usually apparent, and he walked with evident
+difficulty and pain, leaning heavily on the sergeant's arm; but all the
+weary submission had gone out of his face. The spectral terrors that
+had crushed him down in the empty silence, the visions and dreams of the
+world of shadows, were gone with the night which gave them birth; and
+once the sun was shining and his enemies were present to rouse the
+fighting spirit in him, he was not afraid.
+
+The six carabineers who had been told off for the execution were drawn
+up in line against the ivied wall; the same crannied and crumbling wall
+down which he had climbed on the night of his unlucky attempt. They
+could hardly refrain from weeping as they stood together, each man with
+his carbine in his hand. It seemed to them a horror beyond imagination
+that they should be called out to kill the Gadfly. He and his stinging
+repartees, his perpetual laughter, his bright, infectious courage, had
+come into their dull and dreary lives like a wandering sunbeam; and that
+he should die, and at their hands, was to them as the darkening of the
+clear lamps of heaven.
+
+Under the great fig-tree in the courtyard, his grave was waiting for
+him. It had been dug in the night by unwilling hands; and tears had
+fallen on the spade. As he passed he looked down, smiling, at the black
+pit and the withering grass beside it; and drew a long breath, to smell
+the scent of the freshly turned earth.
+
+Near the tree the sergeant stopped short, and the Gadfly looked round
+with his brightest smile.
+
+“Shall I stand here, sergeant?”
+
+The man nodded silently; there was a lump in his throat, and he
+could not have spoken to save his life. The Governor, his nephew, the
+lieutenant of carabineers who was to command, a doctor and a priest
+were already in the courtyard, and came forward with grave faces, half
+abashed under the radiant defiance of the Gadfly's laughing eyes.
+
+“G-good morning, gentlemen! Ah, and his reverence is up so early, too!
+How do you do, captain? This is a pleasanter occasion for you than our
+former meeting, isn't it? I see your arm is still in a sling;
+that's because I bungled my work. These good fellows will do theirs
+better--won't you, lads?”
+
+He glanced round at the gloomy faces of the carabineers.
+
+“There'll be no need of slings this time, any way. There, there, you
+needn't look so doleful over it! Put your heels together and show how
+straight you can shoot. Before long there'll be more work cut out
+for you than you'll know how to get through, and there's nothing like
+practice beforehand.”
+
+“My son,” the priest interrupted, coming forward, while the others drew
+back to leave them alone together; “in a few minutes you must enter into
+the presence of your Maker. Have you no other use but this for these
+last moments that are left you for repentance? Think, I entreat you,
+how dreadful a thing it is to die without absolution, with all your sins
+upon your head. When you stand before your Judge it will be too late to
+repent. Will you approach His awful throne with a jest upon your lips?”
+
+“A jest, your reverence? It is your side that needs that little homily,
+I think. When our turn comes we shall use field-guns instead of half a
+dozen second-hand carbines, and then you'll see how much we're in jest.”
+
+“YOU will use field-guns! Oh, unhappy man! Have you still not realized
+on what frightful brink you stand?”
+
+The Gadfly glanced back over his shoulder at the open grave.
+
+“And s-s-so your reverence thinks that, when you have put me down there,
+you will have done with me? Perhaps you will lay a stone on the top to
+pre-v-vent a r-resurrection 'after three days'? No fear, your reverence!
+I shan't poach on the monopoly in cheap theatricals; I shall lie as
+still as a m-mouse, just where you put me. And all the same, WE shall
+use field-guns.”
+
+“Oh, merciful God,” the priest cried out; “forgive this wretched man!”
+
+“Amen!” murmured the lieutenant of carabineers, in a deep bass growl,
+while the colonel and his nephew crossed themselves devoutly.
+
+As there was evidently no hope of further insistence producing any
+effect, the priest gave up the fruitless attempt and moved aside,
+shaking his head and murmuring a prayer. The short and simple
+preparations were made without more delay, and the Gadfly placed himself
+in the required position, only turning his head to glance up for a
+moment at the red and yellow splendour of the sunrise. He had repeated
+the request that his eyes might not be bandaged, and his defiant face
+had wrung from the colonel a reluctant consent. They had both forgotten
+what they were inflicting on the soldiers.
+
+He stood and faced them, smiling, and the carbines shook in their hands.
+
+“I am quite ready,” he said.
+
+The lieutenant stepped forward, trembling a little with excitement. He
+had never given the word of command for an execution before.
+
+“Ready--present--fire!”
+
+The Gadfly staggered a little and recovered his balance. One unsteady
+shot had grazed his cheek, and a little blood fell on to the white
+cravat. Another ball had struck him above the knee. When the smoke
+cleared away the soldiers looked and saw him smiling still and wiping
+the blood from his cheek with the mutilated hand.
+
+“A bad shot, men!” he said; and his voice cut in, clear and articulate,
+upon the dazed stupor of the wretched soldiers. “Have another try.”
+
+A general groan and shudder passed through the row of carabineers. Each
+man had aimed aside, with a secret hope that the death-shot would come
+from his neighbour's hand, not his; and there the Gadfly stood and
+smiled at them; they had only turned the execution into a butchery, and
+the whole ghastly business was to do again. They were seized with sudden
+terror, and, lowering their carbines, listened hopelessly to the furious
+curses and reproaches of the officers, staring in dull horror at the man
+whom they had killed and who somehow was not dead.
+
+The Governor shook his fist in their faces, savagely shouting to them
+to stand in position, to present arms, to make haste and get the thing
+over. He had become as thoroughly demoralized as they were, and dared
+not look at the terrible figure that stood, and stood, and would not
+fall. When the Gadfly spoke to him he started and shuddered at the sound
+of the mocking voice.
+
+“You have brought out the awkward squad this morning, colonel! Let me
+see if I can manage them better. Now, men! Hold your tool higher there,
+you to the left. Bless your heart, man, it's a carbine you've got
+in your hand, not a frying-pan! Are you all straight? Now then!
+Ready--present----”
+
+“Fire!” the colonel interrupted, starting forward. It was intolerable
+that this man should give the command for his own death.
+
+There was another confused, disorganized volley, and the line broke up
+into a knot of shivering figures, staring before them with wild eyes.
+One of the soldiers had not even discharged his carbine; he had flung it
+away, and crouched down, moaning under his breath: “I can't--I can't!”
+
+The smoke cleared slowly away, floating up into the glimmer of the early
+sunlight; and they saw that the Gadfly had fallen; and saw, too, that he
+was still not dead. For the first moment soldiers and officials stood
+as if they had been turned to stone, and watched the ghastly thing that
+writhed and struggled on the ground; then both doctor and colonel rushed
+forward with a cry, for he had dragged himself up on one knee and was
+still facing the soldiers, and still laughing.
+
+“Another miss! Try--again, lads--see--if you can't----”
+
+He suddenly swayed and fell over sideways on the grass.
+
+“Is he dead?” the colonel asked under his breath; and the doctor,
+kneeling down, with a hand on the bloody shirt, answered softly:
+
+“I think so--God be praised!”
+
+“God be praised!” the colonel repeated. “At last!”
+
+His nephew was touching him on the arm.
+
+“Uncle! It's the Cardinal! He's at the gate and wants to come in.”
+
+“What? He can't come in--I won't have it! What are the guards about?
+Your Eminence----”
+
+The gate had opened and shut, and Montanelli was standing in the
+courtyard, looking before him with still and awful eyes.
+
+“Your Eminence! I must beg of you--this is not a fit sight for you! The
+execution is only just over; the body is not yet----”
+
+“I have come to look at him,” Montanelli said. Even at the moment
+it struck the Governor that his voice and bearing were those of a
+sleep-walker.
+
+“Oh, my God!” one of the soldiers cried out suddenly; and the Governor
+glanced hastily back. Surely------
+
+The blood-stained heap on the grass had once more begun to struggle and
+moan. The doctor flung himself down and lifted the head upon his knee.
+
+“Make haste!” he cried in desperation. “You savages, make haste! Get it
+over, for God's sake! There's no bearing this!”
+
+Great jets of blood poured over his hands, and the convulsions of the
+figure that he held in his arms shook him, too, from head to foot. As he
+looked frantically round for help, the priest bent over his shoulder and
+put a crucifix to the lips of the dying man.
+
+“In the name of the Father and of the Son----”
+
+The Gadfly raised himself against the doctor's knee, and, with wide-open
+eyes, looked straight upon the crucifix.
+
+Slowly, amid hushed and frozen stillness, he lifted the broken right
+hand and pushed away the image. There was a red smear across its face.
+
+“Padre--is your--God--satisfied?”
+
+His head fell back on the doctor's arm.
+
+    *****
+
+“Your Eminence!”
+
+As the Cardinal did not awake from his stupor, Colonel Ferrari repeated,
+louder:
+
+“Your Eminence!”
+
+Montanelli looked up.
+
+“He is dead.”
+
+“Quite dead, your Eminence. Will you not come away? This is a horrible
+sight.”
+
+“He is dead,” Montanelli repeated, and looked down again at the face. “I
+touched him; and he is dead.”
+
+“What does he expect a man to be with half a dozen bullets in him?” the
+lieutenant whispered contemptuously; and the doctor whispered back. “I
+think the sight of the blood has upset him.”
+
+The Governor put his hand firmly on Montanelli's arm.
+
+“Your Eminence--you had better not look at him any longer. Will you
+allow the chaplain to escort you home?”
+
+“Yes--I will go.”
+
+He turned slowly from the blood-stained spot and walked away, the priest
+and sergeant following. At the gate he paused and looked back, with a
+ghostlike, still surprise.
+
+“He is dead.”
+
+    *****
+
+A few hours later Marcone went up to a cottage on the hillside to tell
+Martini that there was no longer any need for him to throw away his
+life.
+
+All the preparations for a second attempt at rescue were ready, as the
+plot was much more simple than the former one. It had been arranged that
+on the following morning, as the Corpus Domini procession passed along
+the fortress hill, Martini should step forward out of the crowd, draw a
+pistol from his breast, and fire in the Governor's face. In the moment
+of wild confusion which would follow twenty armed men were to make a
+sudden rush at the gate, break into the tower, and, taking the turnkey
+with them by force, to enter the prisoner's cell and carry him bodily
+away, killing or overpowering everyone who interfered with them. From
+the gate they were to retire fighting, and cover the retreat of a second
+band of armed and mounted smugglers, who would carry him off into a safe
+hiding-place in the hills. The only person in the little group who knew
+nothing of the plan was Gemma; it had been kept from her at Martini's
+special desire. “She will break her heart over it soon enough,” he had
+said.
+
+As the smuggler came in at the garden gate Martini opened the glass door
+and stepped out on to the verandah to meet him.
+
+“Any news, Marcone? Ah!”
+
+The smuggler had pushed back his broad-brimmed straw hat.
+
+They sat down together on the verandah. Not a word was spoken on either
+side. From the instant when Martini had caught sight of the face under
+the hat-brim he had understood.
+
+“When was it?” he asked after a long pause; and his own voice, in his
+ears, was as dull and wearisome as everything else.
+
+“This morning, at sunrise. The sergeant told me. He was there and saw
+it.”
+
+Martini looked down and flicked a stray thread from his coat-sleeve.
+
+Vanity of vanities; this also is vanity. He was to have died to-morrow.
+And now the land of his heart's desire had vanished, like the fairyland
+of golden sunset dreams that fades away when the darkness comes; and he
+was driven back into the world of every day and every night--the
+world of Grassini and Galli, of ciphering and pamphleteering, of party
+squabbles between comrades and dreary intrigues among Austrian spies--of
+the old revolutionary mill-round that maketh the heart sick. And
+somewhere down at the bottom of his consciousness there was a great
+empty place; a place that nothing and no one would fill any more, now
+that the Gadfly was dead.
+
+Someone was asking him a question, and he raised his head, wondering
+what could be left that was worth the trouble of talking about.
+
+“What did you say?”
+
+“I was saying that of course you will break the news to her.”
+
+Life, and all the horror of life, came back into Martini's face.
+
+“How can I tell her?” he cried out. “You might as well ask me to go and
+stab her. Oh, how can I tell her--how can I!”
+
+He had clasped both hands over his eyes; but, without seeing, he felt
+the smuggler start beside him, and looked up. Gemma was standing in the
+doorway.
+
+“Have you heard, Cesare?” she said. “It is all over. They have shot
+him.”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+“INTROIBO ad altare Dei.” Montanelli stood before the high altar among
+his ministers and acolytes and read the Introit aloud in steady tones.
+All the Cathedral was a blaze of light and colour; from the holiday
+dresses of the congregation to the pillars with their flaming draperies
+and wreaths of flowers there was no dull spot in it. Over the open
+spaces of the doorway fell great scarlet curtains, through whose folds
+the hot June sunlight glowed, as through the petals of red poppies in
+a corn-field. The religious orders with their candles and torches, the
+companies of the parishes with their crosses and flags, lighted up the
+dim side-chapels; and in the aisles the silken folds of the processional
+banners drooped, their gilded staves and tassels glinting under the
+arches. The surplices of the choristers gleamed, rainbow-tinted, beneath
+the coloured windows; the sunlight lay on the chancel floor in
+chequered stains of orange and purple and green. Behind the altar hung
+a shimmering veil of silver tissue; and against the veil and the
+decorations and the altar-lights the Cardinal's figure stood out in its
+trailing white robes like a marble statue that had come to life.
+
+As was customary on processional days, he was only to preside at the
+Mass, not to celebrate, so at the end of the Indulgentiam he turned
+from the altar and walked slowly to the episcopal throne, celebrant and
+ministers bowing low as he passed.
+
+“I'm afraid His Eminence is not well,” one of the canons whispered to
+his neighbour; “he seems so strange.”
+
+Montanelli bent his head to receive the jewelled mitre. The priest who
+was acting as deacon of honour put it on, looked at him for an instant,
+then leaned forward and whispered softly:
+
+“Your Eminence, are you ill?”
+
+Montanelli turned slightly towards him. There was no recognition in his
+eyes.
+
+“Pardon, Your Eminence!” the priest whispered, as he made a genuflexion
+and went back to his place, reproaching himself for having interrupted
+the Cardinal's devotions.
+
+The familiar ceremony went on; and Montanelli sat erect and still, his
+glittering mitre and gold-brocaded vestments flashing back the sunlight,
+and the heavy folds of his white festival mantle sweeping down over the
+red carpet. The light of a hundred candles sparkled among the sapphires
+on his breast, and shone into the deep, still eyes that had no answering
+gleam; and when, at the words: “Benedicite, pater eminentissime,”
+ he stooped to bless the incense, and the sunbeams played among the
+diamonds, he might have recalled some splendid and fearful ice-spirit
+of the mountains, crowned with rainbows and robed in drifted snow,
+scattering, with extended hands, a shower of blessings or of curses.
+
+At the elevation of the Host he descended from his throne and knelt
+before the altar. There was a strange, still evenness about all his
+movements; and as he rose and went back to his place the major of
+dragoons, who was sitting in gala uniform behind the Governor, whispered
+to the wounded captain: “The old Cardinal's breaking, not a doubt of it.
+He goes through his work like a machine.”
+
+“So much the better!” the captain whispered back. “He's been nothing but
+a mill-stone round all our necks ever since that confounded amnesty.”
+
+“He did give in, though, about the court-martial.”
+
+“Yes, at last; but he was a precious time making up his mind to.
+Heavens, how close it is! We shall all get sun-stroke in the procession.
+It's a pity we're not Cardinals, to have a canopy held over our heads
+all the way---- Sh-sh-sh! There's my uncle looking at us!”
+
+Colonel Ferrari had turned round to glance severely at the two younger
+officers. After the solemn event of yesterday morning he was in a devout
+and serious frame of mind, and inclined to reproach them with a want of
+proper feeling about what he regarded as “a painful necessity of state.”
+
+The masters of the ceremonies began to assemble and place in order those
+who were to take part in the procession. Colonel Ferrari rose from his
+place and moved up to the chancel-rail, beckoning to the other officers
+to accompany him. When the Mass was finished, and the Host had been
+placed behind the crystal shield in the processional sun, the celebrant
+and his ministers retired to the sacristy to change their vestments, and
+a little buzz of whispered conversation broke out through the church.
+Montanelli remained seated on his throne, looking straight before him,
+immovably. All the sea of human life and motion seemed to surge around
+and below him, and to die away into stillness about his feet. A censer
+was brought to him; and he raised his hand with the action of an
+automaton, and put the incense into the vessel, looking neither to the
+right nor to the left.
+
+The clergy had come back from the sacristy, and were waiting in the
+chancel for him to descend; but he remained utterly motionless. The
+deacon of honour, bending forward to take off the mitre, whispered
+again, hesitatingly:
+
+“Your Eminence!”
+
+The Cardinal looked round.
+
+“What did you say?”
+
+“Are you quite sure the procession will not be too much for you? The sun
+is very hot.”
+
+“What does the sun matter?”
+
+Montanelli spoke in a cold, measured voice, and the priest again fancied
+that he must have given offence.
+
+“Forgive me, Your Eminence. I thought you seemed unwell.”
+
+Montanelli rose without answering. He paused a moment on the upper step
+of the throne, and asked in the same measured way:
+
+“What is that?”
+
+The long train of his mantle swept down over the steps and lay spread
+out on the chancel-floor, and he was pointing to a fiery stain on the
+white satin.
+
+“It's only the sunlight shining through a coloured window, Your
+Eminence.”
+
+“The sunlight? Is it so red?”
+
+He descended the steps, and knelt before the altar, swinging the censer
+slowly to and fro. As he handed it back, the chequered sunlight fell on
+his bared head and wide, uplifted eyes, and cast a crimson glow across
+the white veil that his ministers were folding round him.
+
+He took from the deacon the sacred golden sun; and stood up, as choir
+and organ burst into a peal of triumphal melody.
+
+
+       “Pange, lingua, g]oriosi
+        Corporis mysterium,
+        Sanguinisque pretiosi
+        Quem in mundi pretium,
+        Fructus ventris generosi
+        Rex effudit gentium.”
+
+
+The bearers came slowly forward, and raised the silken canopy over his
+head, while the deacons of honour stepped to their places at his right
+and left and drew back the long folds of the mantle. As the acolytes
+stooped to lift his robe from the chancel-floor, the lay fraternities
+heading the procession started to pace down the nave in stately double
+file, with lighted candles held to left and right.
+
+He stood above them, by the altar, motionless under the white canopy,
+holding the Eucharist aloft with steady hands, and watched them as they
+passed. Two by two, with candles and banners and torches, with crosses
+and images and flags, they swept slowly down the chancel steps, along
+the broad nave between the garlanded pillars, and out under the lifted
+scarlet curtains into the blazing sunlight of the street; and the sound
+of their chanting died into a rolling murmur, drowned in the pealing
+of new and newer voices, as the unending stream flowed on, and yet new
+footsteps echoed down the nave.
+
+The companies of the parishes passed, with their white shrouds and
+veiled faces; then the brothers of the Misericordia, black from head to
+foot, their eyes faintly gleaming through the holes in their masks. Next
+came the monks in solemn row: the mendicant friars, with their dusky
+cowls and bare, brown feet; the white-robed, grave Dominicans. Then
+followed the lay officials of the district; dragoons and carabineers
+and the local police-officials; the Governor in gala uniform, with his
+brother officers beside him. A deacon followed, holding up a great cross
+between two acolytes with gleaming candles; and as the curtains were
+lifted high to let them pass out at the doorway, Montanelli caught a
+momentary glimpse, from where he stood under the canopy, of the sunlit
+blaze of carpeted street and flag-hung walls and white-robed children
+scattering roses. Ah, the roses; how red they were!
+
+On and on the procession paced in order; form succeeding to form and
+colour to colour. Long white surplices, grave and seemly, gave place
+to gorgeous vestments and embroidered pluvials. Now passed a tall and
+slender golden cross, borne high above the lighted candles; now the
+cathedral canons, stately in their dead white mantles. A chaplain paced
+down the chancel, with the crozier between two flaring torches; then the
+acolytes moved forward in step, their censers swinging to the rhythm of
+the music; the bearers raised the canopy higher, counting their steps:
+“One, two; one, two!” and Montanelli started upon the Way of the Cross.
+
+Down the chancel steps and all along the nave he passed; under the
+gallery where the organ pealed and thundered; under the lifted curtains
+that were so red--so fearfully red; and out into the glaring street,
+where the blood-red roses lay and withered, crushed into the red carpet
+by the passing of many feet. A moment's pause at the door, while the
+lay officials came forward to replace the canopy-bearers; then the
+procession moved on again, and he with it, his hands clasping the
+Eucharistic sun, and the voices of the choristers swelling and dying
+around him, with the rhythmical swaying of censers and the rolling tramp
+of feet.
+
+
+       “Verbum caro, panem verum,
+        Verbo carnem efficit;
+        Sitque sanguis Christi merum----”
+
+
+Always blood and always blood! The carpet stretched before him like a
+red river; the roses lay like blood splashed on the stones---- Oh, God!
+Is all Thine earth grown red, and all Thy heaven? Ah, what is it to
+Thee, Thou mighty God----Thou, whose very lips are smeared with blood!
+
+
+       “Tantum ergo Sacramentum,
+        Veneremur cernui.”
+
+
+He looked through the crystal shield at the Eucharist. What was that
+oozing from the wafer--dripping down between the points of the golden
+sun--down on to his white robe? What had he seen dripping down--dripping
+from a lifted hand?
+
+The grass in the courtyard was trampled and red,--all red,--there was
+so much blood. It was trickling down the cheek, and dripping from the
+pierced right hand, and gushing in a hot red torrent from the wounded
+side. Even a lock of the hair was dabbled in it,--the hair that lay all
+wet and matted on the forehead--ah, that was the death-sweat; it came
+from the horrible pain.
+
+The voices of the choristers rose higher, triumphantly:
+
+
+       “Genitori, genitoque,
+        Laus et jubilatio,
+        Salus, honor, virtus quoque,
+        Sit et benedictio.”
+
+
+Oh, that is more than any patience can endure! God, Who sittest on the
+brazen heavens enthroned, and smilest with bloody lips, looking down
+upon agony and death, is it not enough? Is it not enough, without this
+mockery of praise and blessing? Body of Christ, Thou that wast broken
+for the salvation of men; blood of Christ, Thou that wast shed for the
+remission of sins; is it not enough?
+
+“Ah, call Him louder; perchance He sleepeth!
+
+“Dost Thou sleep indeed, dear love; and wilt Thou never wake again? Is
+the grave so jealous of its victory; and will the black pit under the
+tree not loose Thee even for a little, heart's delight?”
+
+Then the Thing behind the crystal shield made answer, and the blood
+dripped down as It spoke:
+
+“Hast thou chosen, and wilt repent of thy choice? Is thy desire not
+fulfilled? Look upon these men that walk in the light and are clad in
+silk and in gold: for their sake was I laid in the black pit. Look upon
+the children scattering roses, and hearken to their singing if it be
+sweet: for their sake is my mouth filled with dust, and the roses are
+red from the well-springs of my heart. See where the people kneel to
+drink the blood that drips from thy garment-hem: for their sake was it
+shed, to quench their ravening thirst. For it is written: 'Greater love
+hath no man than this, if a man lay down his life for his friends.'”
+
+“Oh, Arthur, Arthur; there is greater love than this! If a man lay down
+the life of his best beloved, is not that greater?”
+
+And It answered again:
+
+“Who is thy best beloved? In sooth, not I.”
+
+And when he would have spoken the words froze on his tongue, for the
+singing of the choristers passed over them, as the north wind over icy
+pools, and hushed them into silence:
+
+
+     “Dedit fragilibus corporis ferculum,
+      Dedit et tristibus sanguinis poculum,
+      Dicens: Accipite, quod trado vasculum
+              Omnes ex eo bibite.”
+
+
+Drink of it, Christians; drink of it, all of you! Is it not yours? For
+you the red stream stains the grass; for you the living flesh is seared
+and torn. Eat of it, cannibals; eat of it, all of you! This is your
+feast and your orgy; this is the day of your joy! Haste you and come to
+the festival; join the procession and march with us; women and children,
+young men and old men--come to the sharing of flesh! Come to the pouring
+of blood-wine and drink of it while it is red; take and eat of the
+Body----
+
+Ah, God; the fortress! Sullen and brown, with crumbling battlements
+and towers dark among the barren hills, it scowled on the procession
+sweeping past in the dusty road below. The iron teeth of the portcullis
+were drawn down over the mouth of the gate; and as a beast crouched
+on the mountain-side, the fortress guarded its prey. Yet, be the teeth
+clenched never so fast, they shall be broken and riven asunder; and the
+grave in the courtyard within shall yield up her dead. For the Christian
+hosts are marching, marching in mighty procession to their sacramental
+feast of blood, as marches an army of famished rats to the gleaning; and
+their cry is: “Give! Give!” and they say not: “It is enough.”
+
+“Wilt thou not be satisfied? For these men was I sacrificed; thou hast
+destroyed me that they might live; and behold, they march everyone on
+his ways, and they shall not break their ranks.
+
+“This is the army of Christians, the followers of thy God; a great
+people and a strong. A fire devoureth before them, and behind them a
+flame burneth; the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind
+them a desolate wilderness; yea, and nothing shall escape them.”
+
+“Oh, yet come back, come back to me, beloved; for I repent me of my
+choice! Come back, and we will creep away together, to some dark and
+silent grave where the devouring army shall not find us; and we will lay
+us down there, locked in one another's arms, and sleep, and sleep, and
+sleep. And the hungry Christians shall pass by in the merciless daylight
+above our heads; and when they howl for blood to drink and for flesh to
+eat, their cry shall be faint in our ears; and they shall pass on their
+ways and leave us to our rest.”
+
+And It answered yet again:
+
+“Where shall I hide me? Is it not written: 'They shall run to and fro
+in the city; they shall run upon the wall; they shall climb up upon the
+houses; they shall enter in at the windows like a thief?' If I build me
+a tomb on the mountain-top, shall they not break it open? If I dig me a
+grave in the river-bed, shall they not tear it up? Verily, they are keen
+as blood-hounds to seek out their prey; and for them are my wounds red,
+that they may drink. Canst thou not hear them, what they sing?”
+
+And they sang, as they went in between the scarlet curtains of the
+Cathedral door; for the procession was over, and all the roses were
+strewn:
+
+
+       “Ave, verum Corpus, natum
+        De Maria Virgine:
+        Vere passum, immolatum
+        In cruce pro homine!
+        Cujus latus perforatum
+        Undam fluxit cum sanguinae;
+        Esto nobis praegustatum
+        Mortis in examinae.”
+
+
+And when they had left off singing, he entered at the doorway, and
+passed between the silent rows of monks and priests, where they knelt,
+each man in his place, with the lighted candles uplifted. And he saw
+their hungry eyes fixed on the sacred Body that he bore; and he knew why
+they bowed their heads as he passed. For the dark stream ran down the
+folds of his white vestments; and on the stones of the Cathedral floor
+his footsteps left a deep, red stain.
+
+So he passed up the nave to the chancel rails; and there the bearers
+paused, and he went out from under the canopy and up to the altar steps.
+To left and right the white-robed acolytes knelt with their censers and
+the chaplains with their torches; and their eyes shone greedily in the
+flaring light as they watched the Body of the Victim.
+
+And as he stood before the altar, holding aloft with blood-stained hands
+the torn and mangled body of his murdered love, the voices of the guests
+bidden to the Eucharistic feast rang out in another peal of song:
+
+
+       “Oh salutaris Hostia,
+        Quae coeli pandis ostium;
+        Bella praemunt hostilia,
+        Da robur, fer, auxilium!”
+
+
+Ah, and now they come to take the Body----Go then, dear heart, to thy
+bitter doom, and open the gates of heaven for these ravening wolves that
+will not be denied. The gates that are opened for me are the gates of
+the nethermost hell.
+
+And as the deacon of honour placed the sacred vessel on the altar,
+Montanelli sank down where he had stood, and knelt upon the step; and
+from the white altar above him the blood flowed down and dripped upon
+his head. And the voices of the singers rang on, pealing under the
+arches and echoing along the vaulted roof:
+
+
+       “Uni trinoque Domino
+        Sit sempiterna gloria:
+        Qui vitam sine termino
+        Nobis donet in patria.”
+
+
+“Sine termino--sine termino!” Oh, happy Jesus, Who could sink beneath
+His cross! Oh, happy Jesus, Who could say: “It is finished!” This doom
+is never ended; it is eternal as the stars in their courses. This is the
+worm that dieth not and the fire that is not quenched. “Sine termino,
+sine termino!”
+
+Wearily, patiently, he went through his part in the remaining
+ceremonies, fulfilling mechanically, from old habit, the rites that had
+no longer any meaning for him. Then, after the benediction, he knelt
+down again before the altar and covered his face; and the voice of the
+priest reading aloud the list of indulgences swelled and sank like a
+far-off murmur from a world to which he belonged no more.
+
+The voice broke off, and he stood up and stretched out his hand for
+silence. Some of the congregation were moving towards the doors; and
+they turned back with a hurried rustle and murmur, as a whisper went
+through the Cathedral:
+
+“His Eminence is going to speak.”
+
+His ministers, startled and wondering, drew closer to him and one of
+them whispered hastily: “Your Eminence, do you intend to speak to the
+people now?”
+
+Montanelli silently waved him aside. The priests drew back, whispering
+together; the thing was unusual, even irregular; but it was within
+the Cardinal's prerogative if he chose to do it. No doubt, he had some
+statement of exceptional importance to make; some new reform from Rome
+to announce or a special communication from the Holy Father.
+
+Montanelli looked down from the altar-steps upon the sea of upturned
+faces. Full of eager expectancy they looked up at him as he stood above
+them, spectral and still and white.
+
+“Sh-sh! Silence!” the leaders of the procession called softly; and the
+murmuring of the congregation died into stillness, as a gust of wind
+dies among whispering tree-tops. All the crowd gazed up, in breathless
+silence, at the white figure on the altar-steps. Slowly and steadily he
+began to speak:
+
+“It is written in the Gospel according to St. John: 'God so loved the
+world, that He gave His only begotten Son that the world through Him
+might be saved.'
+
+“This is the festival of the Body and Blood of the Victim who was slain
+for your salvation; the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the
+world; the Son of God, Who died for your transgressions. And you are
+assembled here in solemn festival array, to eat of the sacrifice that
+was given for you, and to render thanks for this great mercy. And I know
+that this morning, when you came to share in the banquet, to eat of the
+Body of the Victim, your hearts were filled with joy, as you remembered
+the Passion of God the Son, Who died, that you might be saved.
+
+“But tell me, which among you has thought of that other Passion--of the
+Passion of God the Father, Who gave His Son to be crucified? Which of
+you has remembered the agony of God the Father, when He bent from His
+throne in the heavens above, and looked down upon Calvary?
+
+“I have watched you to-day, my people, as you walked in your ranks in
+solemn procession; and I have seen that your hearts are glad within you
+for the remission of your sins, and that you rejoice in your salvation.
+Yet I pray you that you consider at what price that salvation was
+bought. Surely it is very precious, and the price of it is above rubies;
+it is the price of blood.”
+
+A faint, long shudder passed through the listening crowd. In the chancel
+the priests bent forward and whispered to one another; but the preacher
+went on speaking, and they held their peace.
+
+“Therefore it is that I speak with you this day: I AM THAT I AM. For I
+looked upon your weakness and your sorrow, and upon the little children
+about your feet; and my heart was moved to compassion for their sake,
+that they must die. Then I looked into my dear son's eyes; and I knew
+that the Atonement of Blood was there. And I went my way, and left him
+to his doom.
+
+“This is the remission of sins. He died for you, and the darkness has
+swallowed him up; he is dead, and there is no resurrection; he is dead,
+and I have no son. Oh, my boy, my boy!”
+
+The Cardinal's voice broke in a long, wailing cry; and the voices of the
+terrified people answered it like an echo. All the clergy had risen from
+their places, and the deacons of honour started forward to lay their
+hands on the preacher's arm. But he wrenched it away, and faced them
+suddenly, with the eyes of an angry wild beast.
+
+“What is this? Is there not blood enough? Wait your turn, jackals; you
+shall all be fed!”
+
+They shrank away and huddled shivering together, their panting
+breath thick and loud, their faces white with the whiteness of chalk.
+Montanelli turned again to the people, and they swayed and shook before
+him, as a field of corn before a hurricane.
+
+“You have killed him! You have killed him! And I suffered it, because I
+would not let you die. And now, when you come about me with your lying
+praises and your unclean prayers, I repent me--I repent me that I have
+done this thing! It were better that you all should rot in your vices,
+in the bottomless filth of damnation, and that he should live. What is
+the worth of your plague-spotted souls, that such a price should be paid
+for them? But it is too late--too late! I cry aloud, but he does not
+hear me; I beat at the door of the grave, but he will not wake; I stand
+alone, in desert space, and look around me, from the blood-stained earth
+where the heart of my heart lies buried, to the void and awful heaven
+that is left unto me, desolate. I have given him up; oh, generation of
+vipers, I have given him up for you!
+
+“Take your salvation, since it is yours! I fling it to you as a bone is
+flung to a pack of snarling curs! The price of your banquet is paid for
+you; come, then, and gorge yourselves, cannibals, bloodsuckers--carrion
+beasts that feed on the dead! See where the blood streams down from the
+altar, foaming and hot from my darling's heart--the blood that was shed
+for you! Wallow and lap it and smear yourselves red with it! Snatch and
+fight for the flesh and devour it--and trouble me no more! This is the
+body that was given for you--look at it, torn and bleeding, throbbing
+still with the tortured life, quivering from the bitter death-agony;
+take it, Christians, and eat!”
+
+He had caught up the sun with the Host and lifted it above his head; and
+now flung it crashing down upon the floor. At the ring of the metal on
+stone the clergy rushed forward together, and twenty hands seized the
+madman.
+
+Then, and only then, the silence of the people broke in a wild,
+hysterical scream; and, overturning chairs and benches, beating at the
+doorways, trampling one upon another, tearing down curtains and garlands
+in their haste, the surging, sobbing human flood poured out upon the
+street.
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+“GEMMA, there's a man downstairs who wants to see you.” Martini spoke in
+the subdued tone which they had both unconsciously adopted during these
+last ten days. That, and a certain slow evenness of speech and movement,
+were the sole expression which either of them gave to their grief.
+
+Gemma, with bare arms and an apron over her dress, was standing at a
+table, putting up little packages of cartridges for distribution. She
+had stood over the work since early morning; and now, in the glaring
+afternoon, her face looked haggard with fatigue.
+
+“A man, Cesare? What does he want?”
+
+“I don't know, dear. He wouldn't tell me. He said he must speak to you
+alone.”
+
+“Very well.” She took off her apron and pulled down the sleeves of her
+dress. “I must go to him, I suppose; but very likely it's only a spy.”
+
+“In any case, I shall be in the next room, within call. As soon as
+you get rid of him you had better go and lie down a bit. You have been
+standing too long to-day.”
+
+“Oh, no! I would rather go on working.”
+
+She went slowly down the stairs, Martini following in silence. She had
+grown to look ten years older in these few days, and the gray streak
+across her hair had widened into a broad band. She mostly kept her eyes
+lowered now; but when, by chance, she raised them, he shivered at the
+horror in their shadows.
+
+In the little parlour she found a clumsy-looking man standing with his
+heels together in the middle of the floor. His whole figure and the
+half-frightened way he looked up when she came in, suggested to her that
+he must be one of the Swiss guards. He wore a countryman's blouse,
+which evidently did not belong to him, and kept glancing round as though
+afraid of detection.
+
+“Can you speak German?” he asked in the heavy Zurich patois.
+
+“A little. I hear you want to see me.”
+
+“You are Signora Bolla? I've brought you a letter.”
+
+“A--letter?” She was beginning to tremble, and rested one hand on the
+table to steady herself.
+
+“I'm one of the guard over there.” He pointed out of the window to the
+fortress on the hill. “It's from--the man that was shot last week. He
+wrote it the night before. I promised him I'd give it into your own hand
+myself.”
+
+She bent her head down. So he had written after all.
+
+“That's why I've been so long bringing it,” the soldier went on. “He
+said I was not to give it to anyone but you, and I couldn't get off
+before--they watched me so. I had to borrow these things to come in.”
+
+He was fumbling in the breast of his blouse. The weather was hot, and
+the sheet of folded paper that he pulled out was not only dirty and
+crumpled, but damp. He stood for a moment shuffling his feet uneasily;
+then put up one hand and scratched the back of his head.
+
+“You won't say anything,” he began again timidly, with a distrustful
+glance at her. “It's as much as my life's worth to have come here.”
+
+“Of course I shall not say anything. No, wait a minute----”
+
+As he turned to go, she stopped him, feeling for her purse; but he drew
+back, offended.
+
+“I don't want your money,” he said roughly. “I did it for him--because
+he asked me to. I'd have done more than that for him. He'd been good to
+me--God help me!”
+
+The little catch in his voice made her look up. He was slowly rubbing a
+grimy sleeve across his eyes.
+
+“We had to shoot,” he went on under his breath; “my mates and I. A man
+must obey orders. We bungled it, and had to fire again--and he laughed
+at us--he called us the awkward squad--and he'd been good to me----”
+
+There was silence in the room. A moment later he straightened himself
+up, made a clumsy military salute, and went away.
+
+She stood still for a little while with the paper in her hand; then
+sat down by the open window to read. The letter was closely written in
+pencil, and in some parts hardly legible. But the first two words stood
+out quite clear upon the page; and they were in English:
+
+“Dear Jim.”
+
+The writing grew suddenly blurred and misty. And she had lost him
+again--had lost him again! At the sight of the familiar childish
+nickname all the hopelessness of her bereavement came over her afresh,
+and she put out her hands in blind desperation, as though the weight of
+the earth-clods that lay above him were pressing on her heart.
+
+Presently she took up the paper again and went on reading:
+
+
+“I am to be shot at sunrise to-morrow. So if I am to keep at all my
+promise to tell you everything, I must keep it now. But, after all,
+there is not much need of explanations between you and me. We always
+understood each other without many words, even when we were little
+things.
+
+“And so, you see, my dear, you had no need to break your heart over
+that old story of the blow. It was a hard hit, of course; but I have had
+plenty of others as hard, and yet I have managed to get over them,--even
+to pay back a few of them,--and here I am still, like the mackerel in
+our nursery-book (I forget its name), 'Alive and kicking, oh!' This
+is my last kick, though; and then, to-morrow morning, and--'Finita la
+Commedia!' You and I will translate that: 'The variety show is over';
+and will give thanks to the gods that they have had, at least, so much
+mercy on us. It is not much, but it is something; and for this and all
+other blessings may we be truly thankful!
+
+“About that same to-morrow morning, I want both you and Martini to
+understand clearly that I am quite happy and satisfied, and could ask no
+better thing of Fate. Tell that to Martini as a message from me; he is a
+good fellow and a good comrade, and he will understand. You see, dear,
+I know that the stick-in-the-mud people are doing us a good turn and
+themselves a bad one by going back to secret trials and executions so
+soon, and I know that if you who are left stand together steadily and
+hit hard, you will see great things. As for me, I shall go out into
+the courtyard with as light a heart as any child starting home for the
+holidays. I have done my share of the work, and this death-sentence is
+the proof that I have done it thoroughly. They kill me because they are
+afraid of me; and what more can any man's heart desire?
+
+“It desires just one thing more, though. A man who is going to die has
+a right to a personal fancy, and mine is that you should see why I have
+always been such a sulky brute to you, and so slow to forget old scores.
+Of course, though, you understand why, and I tell you only for the
+pleasure of writing the words. I loved you, Gemma, when you were an ugly
+little girl in a gingham frock, with a scratchy tucker and your hair in
+a pig-tail down your back; and I love you still. Do you remember that
+day when I kissed your hand, and when you so piteously begged me 'never
+to do that again'? It was a scoundrelly trick to play, I know; but you
+must forgive that; and now I kiss the paper where I have written your
+name. So I have kissed you twice, and both times without your consent.
+
+“That is all. Good-bye, my dear.”
+
+
+There was no signature, but a verse which they had learned together as
+children was written under the letter:
+
+
+                “Then am I
+                 A happy fly,
+                 If I live
+                 Or if I die.”
+
+    *****
+
+Half an hour later Martini entered the room, and, startled out of the
+silence of half a life-time, threw down the placard he was carrying and
+flung his arms about her.
+
+“Gemma! What is it, for God's sake? Don't sob like that--you that never
+cry! Gemma! Gemma, my darling!”
+
+“Nothing, Cesare; I will tell you afterwards--I--can't talk about it
+just now.”
+
+She hurriedly slipped the tear-stained letter into her pocket; and,
+rising, leaned out of the window to hide her face. Martini held his
+tongue and bit his moustache. After all these years he had betrayed
+himself like a schoolboy--and she had not even noticed it!
+
+“The Cathedral bell is tolling,” she said after a little while, looking
+round with recovered self-command. “Someone must be dead.”
+
+“That is what I came to show you,” Martini answered in his everyday
+voice. He picked up the placard from the floor and handed it to her.
+Hastily printed in large type was a black-bordered announcement that:
+“Our dearly beloved Bishop, His Eminence the Cardinal, Monsignor Lorenzo
+Montanelli,” had died suddenly at Ravenna, “from the rupture of an
+aneurism of the heart.”
+
+She glanced up quickly from the paper, and Martini answered the unspoken
+suggestion in her eyes with a shrug of his shoulders.
+
+“What would you have, Madonna? Aneurism is as good a word as any other.”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gadfly, by E. L. Voynich
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GADFLY ***
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      The Gadfly, by E. L. Voynich
+    </title>
+<link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gadfly, by E. L. Voynich
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Gadfly
+
+Author: E. L. Voynich
+
+Release Date: February 1, 2009 [EBook #3431]
+Last Updated: March 16, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GADFLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judy Boss, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE GADFLY
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By E. L. Voynich
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h4>
+      &ldquo;What have we to do with Thee, Thou Jesus of Nazareth?&rdquo;
+     </h4>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+<div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
+      <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover " width="100%" /><br />
+    </div>
+
+    <p>
+      AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+             MY most cordial thanks are due to the many
+             persons who helped me to collect, in Italy, the
+             materials for this story. I am especially indebted
+             to the officials of the Marucelliana Library of
+             Florence, and of the State Archives and Civic
+             Museum of Bologna, for their courtesy and
+             kindness.
+        </pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE GADFLY</b></a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_PART1"> <b>PART I.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_PART2"> <b>PART II.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER IX. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER X. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br />
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2H_PART3"> <b>PART III.</b> </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER I. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER II. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER III. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER IV. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER V. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER VI. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER VII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER VIII. </a>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br /> <a href="#link2H_EPIL"> EPILOGUE. </a>
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      THE GADFLY
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PART I.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Arthur sat in the library of the theological seminary at Pisa, looking
+      through a pile of manuscript sermons. It was a hot evening in June, and
+      the windows stood wide open, with the shutters half closed for coolness.
+      The Father Director, Canon Montanelli, paused a moment in his writing to
+      glance lovingly at the black head bent over the papers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you find it, carino? Never mind; I must rewrite the passage.
+      Possibly it has got torn up, and I have kept you all this time for
+      nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli's voice was rather low, but full and resonant, with a silvery
+      purity of tone that gave to his speech a peculiar charm. It was the voice
+      of a born orator, rich in possible modulations. When he spoke to Arthur
+      its note was always that of a caress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Padre, I must find it; I'm sure you put it here. You will never make
+      it the same by rewriting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli went on with his work. A sleepy cockchafer hummed drowsily
+      outside the window, and the long, melancholy call of a fruitseller echoed
+      down the street: &ldquo;Fragola! fragola!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'On the Healing of the Leper'; here it is.&rdquo; Arthur came across the room
+      with the velvet tread that always exasperated the good folk at home. He
+      was a slender little creature, more like an Italian in a sixteenth-century
+      portrait than a middle-class English lad of the thirties. From the long
+      eyebrows and sensitive mouth to the small hands and feet, everything about
+      him was too much chiseled, overdelicate. Sitting still, he might have been
+      taken for a very pretty girl masquerading in male attire; but when he
+      moved, his lithe agility suggested a tame panther without the claws.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that really it? What should I do without you, Arthur? I should always
+      be losing my things. No, I am not going to write any more now. Come out
+      into the garden, and I will help you with your work. What is the bit you
+      couldn't understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They went out into the still, shadowy cloister garden. The seminary
+      occupied the buildings of an old Dominican monastery, and two hundred
+      years ago the square courtyard had been stiff and trim, and the rosemary
+      and lavender had grown in close-cut bushes between the straight box
+      edgings. Now the white-robed monks who had tended them were laid away and
+      forgotten; but the scented herbs flowered still in the gracious mid-summer
+      evening, though no man gathered their blossoms for simples any more. Tufts
+      of wild parsley and columbine filled the cracks between the flagged
+      footways, and the well in the middle of the courtyard was given up to
+      ferns and matted stone-crop. The roses had run wild, and their straggling
+      suckers trailed across the paths; in the box borders flared great red
+      poppies; tall foxgloves drooped above the tangled grasses; and the old
+      vine, untrained and barren of fruit, swayed from the branches of the
+      neglected medlar-tree, shaking a leafy head with slow and sad persistence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In one corner stood a huge summer-flowering magnolia, a tower of dark
+      foliage, splashed here and there with milk-white blossoms. A rough wooden
+      bench had been placed against the trunk; and on this Montanelli sat down.
+      Arthur was studying philosophy at the university; and, coming to a
+      difficulty with a book, had applied to &ldquo;the Padre&rdquo; for an explanation of
+      the point. Montanelli was a universal encyclopaedia to him, though he had
+      never been a pupil of the seminary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had better go now,&rdquo; he said when the passage had been cleared up;
+      &ldquo;unless you want me for anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to work any more, but I should like you to stay a bit if you
+      have time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo; He leaned back against the tree-trunk and looked up through the
+      dusky branches at the first faint stars glimmering in a quiet sky. The
+      dreamy, mystical eyes, deep blue under black lashes, were an inheritance
+      from his Cornish mother, and Montanelli turned his head away, that he
+      might not see them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are looking tired, carino,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't help it.&rdquo; There was a weary sound in Arthur's voice, and the
+      Padre noticed it at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should not have gone up to college so soon; you were tired out with
+      sick-nursing and being up at night. I ought to have insisted on your
+      taking a thorough rest before you left Leghorn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Padre, what's the use of that? I couldn't stop in that miserable
+      house after mother died. Julia would have driven me mad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Julia was his eldest step-brother's wife, and a thorn in his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should not have wished you to stay with your relatives,&rdquo; Montanelli
+      answered gently. &ldquo;I am sure it would have been the worst possible thing
+      for you. But I wish you could have accepted the invitation of your English
+      doctor friend; if you had spent a month in his house you would have been
+      more fit to study.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Padre, I shouldn't indeed! The Warrens are very good and kind, but
+      they don't understand; and then they are sorry for me,&mdash;I can see it
+      in all their faces,&mdash;and they would try to console me, and talk about
+      mother. Gemma wouldn't, of course; she always knew what not to say, even
+      when we were babies; but the others would. And it isn't only that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it then, my son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur pulled off some blossoms from a drooping foxglove stem and crushed
+      them nervously in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't bear the town,&rdquo; he began after a moment's pause. &ldquo;There are the
+      shops where she used to buy me toys when I was a little thing, and the
+      walk along the shore where I used to take her until she got too ill.
+      Wherever I go it's the same thing; every market-girl comes up to me with
+      bunches of flowers&mdash;as if I wanted them now! And there's the
+      church-yard&mdash;I had to get away; it made me sick to see the place&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off and sat tearing the foxglove bells to pieces. The silence was
+      so long and deep that he looked up, wondering why the Padre did not speak.
+      It was growing dark under the branches of the magnolia, and everything
+      seemed dim and indistinct; but there was light enough to show the ghastly
+      paleness of Montanelli's face. He was bending his head down, his right
+      hand tightly clenched upon the edge of the bench. Arthur looked away with
+      a sense of awe-struck wonder. It was as though he had stepped unwittingly
+      on to holy ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; he thought; &ldquo;how small and selfish I am beside him! If my
+      trouble were his own he couldn't feel it more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Montanelli raised his head and looked round. &ldquo;I won't press you
+      to go back there; at all events, just now,&rdquo; he said in his most caressing
+      tone; &ldquo;but you must promise me to take a thorough rest when your vacation
+      begins this summer. I think you had better get a holiday right away from
+      the neighborhood of Leghorn. I can't have you breaking down in health.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where shall you go when the seminary closes, Padre?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall have to take the pupils into the hills, as usual, and see them
+      settled there. But by the middle of August the subdirector will be back
+      from his holiday. I shall try to get up into the Alps for a little change.
+      Will you come with me? I could take you for some long mountain rambles,
+      and you would like to study the Alpine mosses and lichens. But perhaps it
+      would be rather dull for you alone with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre!&rdquo; Arthur clasped his hands in what Julia called his &ldquo;demonstrative
+      foreign way.&rdquo; &ldquo;I would give anything on earth to go away with you. Only&mdash;I
+      am not sure&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't think Mr. Burton would allow it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wouldn't like it, of course, but he could hardly interfere. I am
+      eighteen now and can do what I choose. After all, he's only my
+      step-brother; I don't see that I owe him obedience. He was always unkind
+      to mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if he seriously objects, I think you had better not defy his wishes;
+      you may find your position at home made much harder if&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bit harder!&rdquo; Arthur broke in passionately. &ldquo;They always did hate me
+      and always will&mdash;it doesn't matter what I do. Besides, how can James
+      seriously object to my going away with you&mdash;with my father
+      confessor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a Protestant, remember. However, you had better write to him, and
+      we will wait to hear what he thinks. But you must not be impatient, my
+      son; it matters just as much what you do, whether people hate you or love
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The rebuke was so gently given that Arthur hardly coloured under it. &ldquo;Yes,
+      I know,&rdquo; he answered, sighing; &ldquo;but it is so difficult&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was sorry you could not come to me on Tuesday evening,&rdquo; Montanelli
+      said, abruptly introducing a new subject. &ldquo;The Bishop of Arezzo was here,
+      and I should have liked you to meet him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had promised one of the students to go to a meeting at his lodgings,
+      and they would have been expecting me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of meeting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur seemed embarrassed by the question. &ldquo;It&mdash;it was n-not a
+      r-regular meeting,&rdquo; he said with a nervous little stammer. &ldquo;A student had
+      come from Genoa, and he made a speech to us&mdash;a-a sort of&mdash;lecture.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did he lecture about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur hesitated. &ldquo;You won't ask me his name, Padre, will you? Because I
+      promised&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will ask you no questions at all, and if you have promised secrecy of
+      course you must not tell me; but I think you can almost trust me by this
+      time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre, of course I can. He spoke about&mdash;us and our duty to the
+      people&mdash;and to&mdash;our own selves; and about&mdash;what we might do
+      to help&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To help whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The contadini&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Italy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, Arthur,&rdquo; said Montanelli, turning to him and speaking very
+      gravely, &ldquo;how long have you been thinking about this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since&mdash;last winter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Before your mother's death? And did she know of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;N-no. I&mdash;I didn't care about it then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now you&mdash;care about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur pulled another handful of bells off the foxglove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was this way, Padre,&rdquo; he began, with his eyes on the ground. &ldquo;When I
+      was preparing for the entrance examination last autumn, I got to know a
+      good many of the students; you remember? Well, some of them began to talk
+      to me about&mdash;all these things, and lent me books. But I didn't care
+      much about it; I always wanted to get home quick to mother. You see, she
+      was quite alone among them all in that dungeon of a house; and Julia's
+      tongue was enough to kill her. Then, in the winter, when she got so ill, I
+      forgot all about the students and their books; and then, you know, I left
+      off coming to Pisa altogether. I should have talked to mother if I had
+      thought of it; but it went right out of my head. Then I found out that she
+      was going to die&mdash;&mdash;You know, I was almost constantly with her
+      towards the end; often I would sit up the night, and Gemma Warren would
+      come in the day to let me get to sleep. Well, it was in those long nights;
+      I got thinking about the books and about what the students had said&mdash;and
+      wondering&mdash;whether they were right and&mdash;what&mdash;Our Lord
+      would have said about it all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you ask Him?&rdquo; Montanelli's voice was not quite steady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Often, Padre. Sometimes I have prayed to Him to tell me what I must do,
+      or to let me die with mother. But I couldn't find any answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you never said a word to me. Arthur, I hoped you could have trusted
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre, you know I trust you! But there are some things you can't talk
+      about to anyone. I&mdash;it seemed to me that no one could help me&mdash;not
+      even you or mother; I must have my own answer straight from God. You see,
+      it is for all my life and all my soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli turned away and stared into the dusky gloom of the magnolia
+      branches. The twilight was so dim that his figure had a shadowy look, like
+      a dark ghost among the darker boughs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then?&rdquo; he asked slowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then&mdash;she died. You know, I had been up the last three nights
+      with her&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off and paused a moment, but Montanelli did not move.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All those two days before they buried her,&rdquo; Arthur went on in a lower
+      voice, &ldquo;I couldn't think about anything. Then, after the funeral, I was
+      ill; you remember, I couldn't come to confession.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, in the night I got up and went into mother's room. It was all
+      empty; there was only the great crucifix in the alcove. And I thought
+      perhaps God would help me. I knelt down and waited&mdash;all night. And in
+      the morning when I came to my senses&mdash;Padre, it isn't any use; I
+      can't explain. I can't tell you what I saw&mdash;I hardly know myself. But
+      I know that God has answered me, and that I dare not disobey Him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment they sat quite silent in the darkness. Then Montanelli turned
+      and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;God forbid that I should say He has not spoken to your
+      soul. But remember your condition when this thing happened, and do not
+      take the fancies of grief or illness for His solemn call. And if, indeed,
+      it has been His will to answer you out of the shadow of death, be sure
+      that you put no false construction on His word. What is this thing you
+      have it in your heart to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur stood up and answered slowly, as though repeating a catechism:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To give up my life to Italy, to help in freeing her from all this slavery
+      and wretchedness, and in driving out the Austrians, that she may be a free
+      republic, with no king but Christ.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur, think a moment what you are saying! You are not even an Italian.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That makes no difference; I am myself. I have seen this thing, and I
+      belong to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was silence again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You spoke just now of what Christ would have said&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+       Montanelli began slowly; but Arthur interrupted him:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christ said: 'He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli leaned his arm against a branch, and shaded his eyes with one
+      hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down a moment, my son,&rdquo; he said at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur sat down, and the Padre took both his hands in a strong and steady
+      clasp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot argue with you to-night,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;this has come upon me so
+      suddenly&mdash;I had not thought&mdash;I must have time to think it over.
+      Later on we will talk more definitely. But, for just now, I want you to
+      remember one thing. If you get into trouble over this, if you&mdash;die,
+      you will break my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; let me finish what I have to say. I told you once that I have no one
+      in the world but you. I think you do not fully understand what that means.
+      It is difficult when one is so young; at your age I should not have
+      understood. Arthur, you are as my&mdash;as my&mdash;own son to me. Do you
+      see? You are the light of my eyes and the desire of my heart. I would die
+      to keep you from making a false step and ruining your life. But there is
+      nothing I can do. I don't ask you to make any promises to me; I only ask
+      you to remember this, and to be careful. Think well before you take an
+      irrevocable step, for my sake, if not for the sake of your mother in
+      heaven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will think&mdash;and&mdash;Padre, pray for me, and for Italy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He knelt down in silence, and in silence Montanelli laid his hand on the
+      bent head. A moment later Arthur rose, kissed the hand, and went softly
+      away across the dewy grass. Montanelli sat alone under the magnolia tree,
+      looking straight before him into the blackness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the vengeance of God that has fallen upon me,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;as it
+      fell upon David. I, that have defiled His sanctuary, and taken the Body of
+      the Lord into polluted hands,&mdash;He has been very patient with me, and
+      now it is come. 'For thou didst it secretly, but I will do this thing
+      before all Israel, and before the sun; THE CHILD THAT IS BORN UNTO THEE
+      SHALL SURELY DIE.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MR. JAMES BURTON did not at all like the idea of his young step-brother
+      &ldquo;careering about Switzerland&rdquo; with Montanelli. But positively to forbid a
+      harmless botanizing tour with an elderly professor of theology would seem
+      to Arthur, who knew nothing of the reason for the prohibition, absurdly
+      tyrannical. He would immediately attribute it to religious or racial
+      prejudice; and the Burtons prided themselves on their enlightened
+      tolerance. The whole family had been staunch Protestants and Conservatives
+      ever since Burton &amp; Sons, ship-owners, of London and Leghorn, had
+      first set up in business, more than a century back. But they held that
+      English gentlemen must deal fairly, even with Papists; and when the head
+      of the house, finding it dull to remain a widower, had married the pretty
+      Catholic governess of his younger children, the two elder sons, James and
+      Thomas, much as they resented the presence of a step-mother hardly older
+      than themselves, had submitted with sulky resignation to the will of
+      Providence. Since the father's death the eldest brother's marriage had
+      further complicated an already difficult position; but both brothers had
+      honestly tried to protect Gladys, as long as she lived, from Julia's
+      merciless tongue, and to do their duty, as they understood it, by Arthur.
+      They did not even pretend to like the lad, and their generosity towards
+      him showed itself chiefly in providing him with lavish supplies of pocket
+      money and allowing him to go his own way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In answer to his letter, accordingly, Arthur received a cheque to cover
+      his expenses and a cold permission to do as he pleased about his holidays.
+      He expended half his spare cash on botanical books and pressing-cases, and
+      started off with the Padre for his first Alpine ramble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli was in lighter spirits than Arthur had seen him in for a long
+      while. After the first shock of the conversation in the garden he had
+      gradually recovered his mental balance, and now looked upon the case more
+      calmly. Arthur was very young and inexperienced; his decision could hardly
+      be, as yet, irrevocable. Surely there was still time to win him back by
+      gentle persuasion and reasoning from the dangerous path upon which he had
+      barely entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had intended to stay a few days at Geneva; but at the first sight of
+      the glaring white streets and dusty, tourist-crammed promenades, a little
+      frown appeared on Arthur's face. Montanelli watched him with quiet
+      amusement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't like it, carino?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hardly know. It's so different from what I expected. Yes, the lake is
+      beautiful, and I like the shape of those hills.&rdquo; They were standing on
+      Rousseau's Island, and he pointed to the long, severe outlines of the
+      Savoy side. &ldquo;But the town looks so stiff and tidy, somehow&mdash;so
+      Protestant; it has a self-satisfied air. No, I don't like it; it reminds
+      me of Julia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli laughed. &ldquo;Poor boy, what a misfortune! Well, we are here for
+      our own amusement, so there is no reason why we should stop. Suppose we
+      take a sail on the lake to-day, and go up into the mountains to-morrow
+      morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Padre, you wanted to stay here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear boy, I have seen all these places a dozen times. My holiday is to
+      see your pleasure. Where would you like to go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If it is really the same to you, I should like to follow the river back
+      to its source.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Rhone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, the Arve; it runs so fast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we will go to Chamonix.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They spent the afternoon drifting about in a little sailing boat. The
+      beautiful lake produced far less impression upon Arthur than the gray and
+      muddy Arve. He had grown up beside the Mediterranean, and was accustomed
+      to blue ripples; but he had a positive passion for swiftly moving water,
+      and the hurried rushing of the glacier stream delighted him beyond
+      measure. &ldquo;It is so much in earnest,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Early on the following morning they started for Chamonix. Arthur was in
+      very high spirits while driving through the fertile valley country; but
+      when they entered upon the winding road near Cluses, and the great, jagged
+      hills closed in around them, he became serious and silent. From St. Martin
+      they walked slowly up the valley, stopping to sleep at wayside chalets or
+      tiny mountain villages, and wandering on again as their fancy directed.
+      Arthur was peculiarly sensitive to the influence of scenery, and the first
+      waterfall that they passed threw him into an ecstacy which was delightful
+      to see; but as they drew nearer to the snow-peaks he passed out of this
+      rapturous mood into one of dreamy exaltation that Montanelli had not seen
+      before. There seemed to be a kind of mystical relationship between him and
+      the mountains. He would lie for hours motionless in the dark, secret,
+      echoing pine-forests, looking out between the straight, tall trunks into
+      the sunlit outer world of flashing peaks and barren cliffs. Montanelli
+      watched him with a kind of sad envy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you could show me what you see, carino,&rdquo; he said one day as he
+      looked up from his book, and saw Arthur stretched beside him on the moss
+      in the same attitude as an hour before, gazing out with wide, dilated eyes
+      into the glittering expanse of blue and white. They had turned aside from
+      the high-road to sleep at a quiet village near the falls of the Diosaz,
+      and, the sun being already low in a cloudless sky, had mounted a point of
+      pine-clad rock to wait for the Alpine glow over the dome and needles of
+      the Mont Blanc chain. Arthur raised his head with eyes full of wonder and
+      mystery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I see, Padre? I see a great, white being in a blue void that has no
+      beginning and no end. I see it waiting, age after age, for the coming of
+      the Spirit of God. I see it through a glass darkly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli sighed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I used to see those things once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you never see them now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never. I shall not see them any more. They are there, I know; but I have
+      not the eyes to see them. I see quite other things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I, carino? I see a blue sky and a snow-mountain&mdash;that is all when I
+      look up into the heights. But down there it is different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pointed to the valley below them. Arthur knelt down and bent over the
+      sheer edge of the precipice. The great pine trees, dusky in the gathering
+      shades of evening, stood like sentinels along the narrow banks confining
+      the river. Presently the sun, red as a glowing coal, dipped behind a
+      jagged mountain peak, and all the life and light deserted the face of
+      nature. Straightway there came upon the valley something dark and
+      threatening&mdash;sullen, terrible, full of spectral weapons. The
+      perpendicular cliffs of the barren western mountains seemed like the teeth
+      of a monster lurking to snatch a victim and drag him down into the maw of
+      the deep valley, black with its moaning forests. The pine trees were rows
+      of knife-blades whispering: &ldquo;Fall upon us!&rdquo; and in the gathering darkness
+      the torrent roared and howled, beating against its rocky prison walls with
+      the frenzy of an everlasting despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre!&rdquo; Arthur rose, shuddering, and drew back from the precipice. &ldquo;It is
+      like hell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my son,&rdquo; Montanelli answered softly, &ldquo;it is only like a human soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The souls of them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The souls of them that pass you day by day in the street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur shivered, looking down into the shadows. A dim white mist was
+      hovering among the pine trees, clinging faintly about the desperate agony
+      of the torrent, like a miserable ghost that had no consolation to give.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; Arthur said suddenly. &ldquo;The people that walked in darkness have
+      seen a great light.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Eastwards the snow-peaks burned in the afterglow. When the red light had
+      faded from the summits Montanelli turned and roused Arthur with a touch on
+      the shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, carino; all the light is gone. We shall lose our way in the dark
+      if we stay any longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is like a corpse,&rdquo; Arthur said as he turned away from the spectral
+      face of the great snow-peak glimmering through the twilight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They descended cautiously among the black trees to the chalet where they
+      were to sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Montanelli entered the room where Arthur was waiting for him at the
+      supper table, he saw that the lad seemed to have shaken off the ghostly
+      fancies of the dark, and to have changed into quite another creature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Padre, do come and look at this absurd dog! It can dance on its hind
+      legs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was as much absorbed in the dog and its accomplishments as he had been
+      in the after-glow. The woman of the chalet, red-faced and white-aproned,
+      with sturdy arms akimbo, stood by smiling, while he put the animal through
+      its tricks. &ldquo;One can see there's not much on his mind if he can carry on
+      that way,&rdquo; she said in patois to her daughter. &ldquo;And what a handsome lad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur coloured like a schoolgirl, and the woman, seeing that he had
+      understood, went away laughing at his confusion. At supper he talked of
+      nothing but plans for excursions, mountain ascents, and botanizing
+      expeditions. Evidently his dreamy fancies had not interfered with either
+      his spirits or his appetite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Montanelli awoke the next morning Arthur had disappeared. He had
+      started before daybreak for the higher pastures &ldquo;to help Gaspard drive up
+      the goats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Breakfast had not long been on the table, however, when he came tearing
+      into the room, hatless, with a tiny peasant girl of three years old
+      perched on his shoulder, and a great bunch of wild flowers in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli looked up, smiling. This was a curious contrast to the grave
+      and silent Arthur of Pisa or Leghorn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where have you been, you madcap? Scampering all over the mountains
+      without any breakfast?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Padre, it was so jolly! The mountains look perfectly glorious at
+      sunrise; and the dew is so thick! Just look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lifted for inspection a wet and muddy boot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We took some bread and cheese with us, and got some goat's milk up there
+      on the pasture; oh, it was nasty! But I'm hungry again, now; and I want
+      something for this little person, too. Annette, won't you have some
+      honey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had sat down with the child on his knee, and was helping her to put the
+      flowers in order.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; Montanelli interposed. &ldquo;I can't have you catching cold. Run and
+      change your wet things. Come to me, Annette. Where did you pick her up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the top of the village. She belongs to the man we saw yesterday&mdash;the
+      man that cobbles the commune's boots. Hasn't she lovely eyes? She's got a
+      tortoise in her pocket, and she calls it 'Caroline.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Arthur had changed his wet socks and came down to breakfast he found
+      the child seated on the Padre's knee, chattering volubly to him about her
+      tortoise, which she was holding upside down in a chubby hand, that
+      &ldquo;monsieur&rdquo; might admire the wriggling legs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look, monsieur!&rdquo; she was saying gravely in her half-intelligible patois:
+      &ldquo;Look at Caroline's boots!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli sat playing with the child, stroking her hair, admiring her
+      darling tortoise, and telling her wonderful stories. The woman of the
+      chalet, coming in to clear the table, stared in amazement at the sight of
+      Annette turning out the pockets of the grave gentleman in clerical dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God teaches the little ones to know a good man,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;Annette is
+      always afraid of strangers; and see, she is not shy with his reverence at
+      all. The wonderful thing! Kneel down, Annette, and ask the good monsieur's
+      blessing before he goes; it will bring thee luck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know you could play with children that way, Padre,&rdquo; Arthur said
+      an hour later, as they walked through the sunlit pasture-land. &ldquo;That child
+      never took her eyes off you all the time. Do you know, I think&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was only going to say&mdash;it seems to me almost a pity that the
+      Church should forbid priests to marry. I cannot quite understand why. You
+      see, the training of children is such a serious thing, and it means so
+      much to them to be surrounded from the very beginning with good
+      influences, that I should have thought the holier a man's vocation and the
+      purer his life, the more fit he is to be a father. I am sure, Padre, if
+      you had not been under a vow,&mdash;if you had married,&mdash;your
+      children would have been the very&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The word was uttered in a hasty whisper that seemed to deepen the ensuing
+      silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre,&rdquo; Arthur began again, distressed by the other's sombre look, &ldquo;do
+      you think there is anything wrong in what I said? Of course I may be
+      mistaken; but I must think as it comes natural to me to think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps,&rdquo; Montanelli answered gently, &ldquo;you do not quite realize the
+      meaning of what you just said. You will see differently in a few years.
+      Meanwhile we had better talk about something else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first break in the perfect ease and harmony that reigned
+      between them on this ideal holiday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      From Chamonix they went on by the Tete-Noire to Martigny, where they
+      stopped to rest, as the weather was stiflingly hot. After dinner they sat
+      on the terrace of the hotel, which was sheltered from the sun and
+      commanded a good view of the mountains. Arthur brought out his specimen
+      box and plunged into an earnest botanical discussion in Italian.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Two English artists were sitting on the terrace; one sketching, the other
+      lazily chatting. It did not seem to have occurred to him that the
+      strangers might understand English.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Leave off daubing at the landscape, Willie,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and draw that
+      glorious Italian boy going into ecstasies over those bits of ferns. Just
+      look at the line of his eyebrows! You only need to put a crucifix for the
+      magnifying-glass and a Roman toga for the jacket and knickerbockers, and
+      there's your Early Christian complete, expression and all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Early Christian be hanged! I sat beside that youth at dinner; he was just
+      as ecstatic over the roast fowl as over those grubby little weeds. He's
+      pretty enough; that olive colouring is beautiful; but he's not half so
+      picturesque as his father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His&mdash;who?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His father, sitting there straight in front of you. Do you mean to say
+      you've passed him over? It's a perfectly magnificent face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you dunder-headed, go-to-meeting Methodist! Don't you know a
+      Catholic priest when you see one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A priest? By Jove, so he is! Yes, I forgot; vow of chastity, and all that
+      sort of thing. Well then, we'll be charitable and suppose the boy's his
+      nephew.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What idiotic people!&rdquo; Arthur whispered, looking up with dancing eyes.
+      &ldquo;Still, it is kind of them to think me like you; I wish I were really your
+      nephew&mdash;&mdash;Padre, what is the matter? How white you are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli was standing up, pressing one hand to his forehead. &ldquo;I am a
+      little giddy,&rdquo; he said in a curiously faint, dull tone. &ldquo;Perhaps I was too
+      much in the sun this morning. I will go and lie down, carino; it's nothing
+      but the heat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      After a fortnight beside the Lake of Lucerne Arthur and Montanelli
+      returned to Italy by the St. Gothard Pass. They had been fortunate as to
+      weather and had made several very pleasant excursions; but the first charm
+      was gone out of their enjoyment. Montanelli was continually haunted by an
+      uneasy thought of the &ldquo;more definite talk&rdquo; for which this holiday was to
+      have been the opportunity. In the Arve valley he had purposely put off all
+      reference to the subject of which they had spoken under the magnolia tree;
+      it would be cruel, he thought, to spoil the first delights of Alpine
+      scenery for a nature so artistic as Arthur's by associating them with a
+      conversation which must necessarily be painful. Ever since the day at
+      Martigny he had said to himself each morning; &ldquo;I will speak to-day,&rdquo; and
+      each evening: &ldquo;I will speak to-morrow;&rdquo; and now the holiday was over, and
+      he still repeated again and again: &ldquo;To-morrow, to-morrow.&rdquo; A chill,
+      indefinable sense of something not quite the same as it had been, of an
+      invisible veil falling between himself and Arthur, kept him silent, until,
+      on the last evening of their holiday, he realized suddenly that he must
+      speak now if he would speak at all. They were stopping for the night at
+      Lugano, and were to start for Pisa next morning. He would at least find
+      out how far his darling had been drawn into the fatal quicksand of Italian
+      politics.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The rain has stopped, carino,&rdquo; he said after sunset; &ldquo;and this is the
+      only chance we shall have to see the lake. Come out; I want to have a talk
+      with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked along the water's edge to a quiet spot and sat down on a low
+      stone wall. Close beside them grew a rose-bush, covered with scarlet hips;
+      one or two belated clusters of creamy blossom still hung from an upper
+      branch, swaying mournfully and heavy with raindrops. On the green surface
+      of the lake a little boat, with white wings faintly fluttering, rocked in
+      the dewy breeze. It looked as light and frail as a tuft of silvery
+      dandelion seed flung upon the water. High up on Monte Salvatore the window
+      of some shepherd's hut opened a golden eye. The roses hung their heads and
+      dreamed under the still September clouds, and the water plashed and
+      murmured softly among the pebbles of the shore.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This will be my only chance of a quiet talk with you for a long time,&rdquo;
+       Montanelli began. &ldquo;You will go back to your college work and friends; and
+      I, too, shall be very busy this winter. I want to understand quite clearly
+      what our position as regards each other is to be; and so, if you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+       He stopped for a moment and then continued more slowly: &ldquo;If you feel that
+      you can still trust me as you used to do, I want you to tell me more
+      definitely than that night in the seminary garden, how far you have gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur looked out across the water, listened quietly, and said nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to know, if you will tell me,&rdquo; Montanelli went on; &ldquo;whether you
+      have bound yourself by a vow, or&mdash;in any way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing to tell, dear Padre; I have not bound myself, but I am
+      bound.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the use of vows? They are not what binds people. If you feel in a
+      certain way about a thing, that binds you to it; if you don't feel that
+      way, nothing else can bind you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean, then, that this thing&mdash;this&mdash;feeling is quite
+      irrevocable? Arthur, have you thought what you are saying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur turned round and looked straight into Montanelli's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre, you asked me if I could trust you. Can you not trust me, too?
+      Indeed, if there were anything to tell, I would tell it to you; but there
+      is no use in talking about these things. I have not forgotten what you
+      said to me that night; I shall never forget it. But I must go my way and
+      follow the light that I see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli picked a rose from the bush, pulled off the petals one by one,
+      and tossed them into the water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right, carino. Yes, we will say no more about these things; it
+      seems there is indeed no help in many words&mdash;&mdash;Well, well, let
+      us go in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE autumn and winter passed uneventfully. Arthur was reading hard and had
+      little spare time. He contrived to get a glimpse of Montanelli once or
+      oftener in every week, if only for a few minutes. From time to time he
+      would come in to ask for help with some difficult book; but on these
+      occasions the subject of study was strictly adhered to. Montanelli,
+      feeling, rather than observing, the slight, impalpable barrier that had
+      come between them, shrank from everything which might seem like an attempt
+      to retain the old close relationship. Arthur's visits now caused him more
+      distress than pleasure, so trying was the constant effort to appear at
+      ease and to behave as if nothing were altered. Arthur, for his part,
+      noticed, hardly understanding it, the subtle change in the Padre's manner;
+      and, vaguely feeling that it had some connection with the vexed question
+      of the &ldquo;new ideas,&rdquo; avoided all mention of the subject with which his
+      thoughts were constantly filled. Yet he had never loved Montanelli so
+      deeply as now. The dim, persistent sense of dissatisfaction, of spiritual
+      emptiness, which he had tried so hard to stifle under a load of theology
+      and ritual, had vanished into nothing at the touch of Young Italy. All the
+      unhealthy fancies born of loneliness and sick-room watching had passed
+      away, and the doubts against which he used to pray had gone without the
+      need of exorcism. With the awakening of a new enthusiasm, a clearer,
+      fresher religious ideal (for it was more in this light than in that of a
+      political development that the students' movement had appeared to him),
+      had come a sense of rest and completeness, of peace on earth and good will
+      towards men; and in this mood of solemn and tender exaltation all the
+      world seemed to him full of light. He found a new element of something
+      lovable in the persons whom he had most disliked; and Montanelli, who for
+      five years had been his ideal hero, was now in his eyes surrounded with an
+      additional halo, as a potential prophet of the new faith. He listened with
+      passionate eagerness to the Padre's sermons, trying to find in them some
+      trace of inner kinship with the republican ideal; and pored over the
+      Gospels, rejoicing in the democratic tendencies of Christianity at its
+      origin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day in January he called at the seminary to return a book which he had
+      borrowed. Hearing that the Father Director was out, he went up to
+      Montanelli's private study, placed the volume on its shelf, and was about
+      to leave the room when the title of a book lying on the table caught his
+      eyes. It was Dante's &ldquo;De Monarchia.&rdquo; He began to read it and soon became
+      so absorbed that when the door opened and shut he did not hear. He was
+      aroused from his preoccupation by Montanelli's voice behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not expect you to-day,&rdquo; said the Padre, glancing at the title of
+      the book. &ldquo;I was just going to send and ask if you could come to me this
+      evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it anything important? I have an engagement for this evening; but I
+      will miss it if&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; to-morrow will do. I want to see you because I am going away on
+      Tuesday. I have been sent for to Rome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Rome? For long?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The letter says, 'till after Easter.' It is from the Vatican. I would
+      have let you know at once, but have been very busy settling up things
+      about the seminary and making arrangements for the new Director.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Padre, surely you are not giving up the seminary?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will have to be so; but I shall probably come back to Pisa, for some
+      time at least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why are you giving it up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it is not yet officially announced; but I am offered a bishopric.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre! Where?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the point about which I have to go to Rome. It is not yet decided
+      whether I am to take a see in the Apennines, or to remain here as
+      Suffragan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And is the new Director chosen yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father Cardi has been nominated and arrives here to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is not that rather sudden?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but&mdash;&mdash;The decisions of the Vatican are sometimes not
+      communicated till the last moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know the new Director?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not personally; but he is very highly spoken of. Monsignor Belloni, who
+      writes, says that he is a man of great erudition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The seminary will miss you terribly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know about the seminary, but I am sure you will miss me, carino;
+      perhaps almost as much as I shall miss you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall indeed; but I am very glad, for all that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you? I don't know that I am.&rdquo; He sat down at the table with a weary
+      look on his face; not the look of a man who is expecting high promotion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you busy this afternoon, Arthur?&rdquo; he said after a moment. &ldquo;If not, I
+      wish you would stay with me for a while, as you can't come to-night. I am
+      a little out of sorts, I think; and I want to see as much of you as
+      possible before leaving.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I can stay a bit. I am due at six.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of your meetings?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur nodded; and Montanelli changed the subject hastily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to speak to you about yourself,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You will need another
+      confessor in my absence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you come back I may go on confessing to you, may I not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear boy, how can you ask? Of course I am speaking only of the three
+      or four months that I shall be away. Will you go to one of the Fathers of
+      Santa Caterina?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They talked of other matters for a little while; then Arthur rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go, Padre; the students will be waiting for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The haggard look came back to Montanelli's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Already? You had almost charmed away my black mood. Well, good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye. I will be sure to come to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try to come early, so that I may have time to see you alone. Father Cardi
+      will be here. Arthur, my dear boy, be careful while I am gone; don't be
+      led into doing anything rash, at least before I come back. You cannot
+      think how anxious I feel about leaving you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no need, Padre; everything is quite quiet. It will be a long
+      time yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye,&rdquo; Montanelli said abruptly, and sat down to his writing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first person upon whom Arthur's eyes fell, as he entered the room
+      where the students' little gatherings were held, was his old playmate, Dr.
+      Warren's daughter. She was sitting in a corner by the window, listening
+      with an absorbed and earnest face to what one of the &ldquo;initiators,&rdquo; a tall
+      young Lombard in a threadbare coat, was saying to her. During the last few
+      months she had changed and developed greatly, and now looked a grown-up
+      young woman, though the dense black plaits still hung down her back in
+      school-girl fashion. She was dressed all in black, and had thrown a black
+      scarf over her head, as the room was cold and draughty. At her breast was
+      a spray of cypress, the emblem of Young Italy. The initiator was
+      passionately describing to her the misery of the Calabrian peasantry; and
+      she sat listening silently, her chin resting on one hand and her eyes on
+      the ground. To Arthur she seemed a melancholy vision of Liberty mourning
+      for the lost Republic. (Julia would have seen in her only an overgrown
+      hoyden, with a sallow complexion, an irregular nose, and an old stuff
+      frock that was too short for her.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You here, Jim!&rdquo; he said, coming up to her when the initiator had been
+      called to the other end of the room. &ldquo;Jim&rdquo; was a childish corruption of
+      her curious baptismal name: Jennifer. Her Italian schoolmates called her
+      &ldquo;Gemma.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised her head with a start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur! Oh, I didn't know you&mdash;belonged here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I had no idea about you. Jim, since when have you&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't understand!&rdquo; she interposed quickly. &ldquo;I am not a member. It is
+      only that I have done one or two little things. You see, I met Bini&mdash;you
+      know Carlo Bini?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course.&rdquo; Bini was the organizer of the Leghorn branch; and all
+      Young Italy knew him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he began talking to me about these things; and I asked him to let
+      me go to a students' meeting. The other day he wrote to me to Florence&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;Didn't
+      you know I had been to Florence for the Christmas holidays?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't often hear from home now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes! Anyhow, I went to stay with the Wrights.&rdquo; (The Wrights were old
+      schoolfellows of hers who had moved to Florence.) &ldquo;Then Bini wrote and
+      told me to pass through Pisa to-day on my way home, so that I could come
+      here. Ah! they're going to begin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lecture was upon the ideal Republic and the duty of the young to fit
+      themselves for it. The lecturer's comprehension of his subject was
+      somewhat vague; but Arthur listened with devout admiration. His mind at
+      this period was curiously uncritical; when he accepted a moral ideal he
+      swallowed it whole without stopping to think whether it was quite
+      digestible. When the lecture and the long discussion which followed it
+      were finished and the students began to disperse, he went up to Gemma, who
+      was still sitting in the corner of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me walk with you, Jim. Where are you staying?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With Marietta.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your father's old housekeeper?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; she lives a good way from here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked for some time in silence. Then Arthur said suddenly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are seventeen, now, aren't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was seventeen in October.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always knew you would not grow up like other girls and begin wanting to
+      go to balls and all that sort of thing. Jim, dear, I have so often
+      wondered whether you would ever come to be one of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So have I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said you had done things for Bini; I didn't know you even knew him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wasn't for Bini; it was for the other one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which other one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The one that was talking to me to-night&mdash;Bolla.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know him well?&rdquo; Arthur put in with a little touch of jealousy.
+      Bolla was a sore subject with him; there had been a rivalry between them
+      about some work which the committee of Young Italy had finally intrusted
+      to Bolla, declaring Arthur too young and inexperienced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know him pretty well; and I like him very much. He has been staying in
+      Leghorn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know; he went there in November&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because of the steamers. Arthur, don't you think your house would be
+      safer than ours for that work? Nobody would suspect a rich shipping family
+      like yours; and you know everyone at the docks&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush! not so loud, dear! So it was in your house the books from
+      Marseilles were hidden?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only for one day. Oh! perhaps I oughtn't to have told you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? You know I belong to the society. Gemma, dear, there is nothing
+      in all the world that would make me so happy as for you to join us&mdash;you
+      and the Padre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Padre! Surely he&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; he thinks differently. But I have sometimes fancied&mdash;that is&mdash;hoped&mdash;I
+      don't know&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Arthur! he's a priest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What of that? There are priests in the society&mdash;two of them write in
+      the paper. And why not? It is the mission of the priesthood to lead the
+      world to higher ideals and aims, and what else does the society try to do?
+      It is, after all, more a religious and moral question than a political
+      one. If people are fit to be free and responsible citizens, no one can
+      keep them enslaved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma knit her brows. &ldquo;It seems to me, Arthur,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that there's a
+      muddle somewhere in your logic. A priest teaches religious doctrine. I
+      don't see what that has to do with getting rid of the Austrians.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A priest is a teacher of Christianity, and the greatest of all
+      revolutionists was Christ.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know, I was talking about priests to father the other day, and he
+      said&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma, your father is a Protestant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a little pause she looked round at him frankly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, we had better leave this subject alone. You are always
+      intolerant when you talk about Protestants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't mean to be intolerant. But I think Protestants are generally
+      intolerant when they talk about priests.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say. Anyhow, we have so often quarreled over this subject that it
+      is not worth while to begin again. What did you think of the lecture?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I liked it very much&mdash;especially the last part. I was glad he spoke
+      so strongly about the need of living the Republic, not dreaming of it. It
+      is as Christ said: 'The Kingdom of Heaven is within you.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was just that part that I didn't like. He talked so much of the
+      wonderful things we ought to think and feel and be, but he never told us
+      practically what we ought to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When the time of crisis comes there will be plenty for us to do; but we
+      must be patient; these great changes are not made in a day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The longer a thing is to take doing, the more reason to begin at once.
+      You talk about being fit for freedom&mdash;did you ever know anyone so fit
+      for it as your mother? Wasn't she the most perfectly angelic woman you
+      ever saw? And what use was all her goodness? She was a slave till the day
+      she died&mdash;bullied and worried and insulted by your brother James and
+      his wife. It would have been much better for her if she had not been so
+      sweet and patient; they would never have treated her so. That's just the
+      way with Italy; it's not patience that's wanted&mdash;it's for somebody to
+      get up and defend themselves&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jim, dear, if anger and passion could have saved Italy she would have
+      been free long ago; it is not hatred that she needs, it is love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he said the word a sudden flush went up to his forehead and died out
+      again. Gemma did not see it; she was looking straight before her with
+      knitted brows and set mouth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think I am wrong, Arthur,&rdquo; she said after a pause; &ldquo;but I am right,
+      and you will grow to see it some day. This is the house. Will you come
+      in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it's late. Good-night, dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was standing on the doorstep, clasping her hand in both of his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For God and the people&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly and gravely she completed the unfinished motto:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now and forever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then she pulled away her hand and ran into the house. When the door had
+      closed behind her he stooped and picked up the spray of cypress which had
+      fallen from her breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      ARTHUR went back to his lodgings feeling as though he had wings. He was
+      absolutely, cloudlessly happy. At the meeting there had been hints of
+      preparations for armed insurrection; and now Gemma was a comrade, and he
+      loved her. They could work together, possibly even die together, for the
+      Republic that was to be. The blossoming time of their hope was come, and
+      the Padre would see it and believe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning, however, he awoke in a soberer mood and remembered that
+      Gemma was going to Leghorn and the Padre to Rome. January, February, March&mdash;three
+      long months to Easter! And if Gemma should fall under &ldquo;Protestant&rdquo;
+       influences at home (in Arthur's vocabulary &ldquo;Protestant&rdquo; stood for
+      &ldquo;Philistine&rdquo;)&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;No, Gemma would never learn to flirt and
+      simper and captivate tourists and bald-headed shipowners, like the other
+      English girls in Leghorn; she was made of different stuff. But she might
+      be very miserable; she was so young, so friendless, so utterly alone among
+      all those wooden people. If only mother had lived&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the evening he went to the seminary, where he found Montanelli
+      entertaining the new Director and looking both tired and bored. Instead of
+      lighting up, as usual, at the sight of Arthur, the Padre's face grew
+      darker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the student I spoke to you about,&rdquo; he said, introducing Arthur
+      stiffly. &ldquo;I shall be much obliged if you will allow him to continue using
+      the library.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Father Cardi, a benevolent-looking elderly priest, at once began talking
+      to Arthur about the Sapienza, with an ease and familiarity which showed
+      him to be well acquainted with college life. The conversation soon drifted
+      into a discussion of university regulations, a burning question of that
+      day. To Arthur's great delight, the new Director spoke strongly against
+      the custom adopted by the university authorities of constantly worrying
+      the students by senseless and vexatious restrictions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have had a good deal of experience in guiding young people,&rdquo; he said;
+      &ldquo;and I make it a rule never to prohibit anything without a good reason.
+      There are very few young men who will give much trouble if proper
+      consideration and respect for their personality are shown to them. But, of
+      course, the most docile horse will kick if you are always jerking at the
+      rein.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur opened his eyes wide; he had not expected to hear the students'
+      cause pleaded by the new Director. Montanelli took no part in the
+      discussion; its subject, apparently, did not interest him. The expression
+      of his face was so unutterably hopeless and weary that Father Cardi broke
+      off suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I have overtired you, Canon. You must forgive my
+      talkativeness; I am hot upon this subject and forget that others may grow
+      weary of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the contrary, I was much interested.&rdquo; Montanelli was not given to
+      stereotyped politeness, and his tone jarred uncomfortably upon Arthur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When Father Cardi went to his own room Montanelli turned to Arthur with
+      the intent and brooding look that his face had worn all the evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur, my dear boy,&rdquo; he began slowly; &ldquo;I have something to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must have had bad news,&rdquo; flashed through Arthur's mind, as he looked
+      anxiously at the haggard face. There was a long pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you like the new Director?&rdquo; Montanelli asked suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The question was so unexpected that, for a moment, Arthur was at a loss
+      how to reply to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I like him very much, I think&mdash;at least&mdash;no, I am not
+      quite sure that I do. But it is difficult to say, after seeing a person
+      once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli sat beating his hand gently on the arm of his chair; a habit
+      with him when anxious or perplexed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About this journey to Rome,&rdquo; he began again; &ldquo;if you think there is any&mdash;well&mdash;if
+      you wish it, Arthur, I will write and say I cannot go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre! But the Vatican&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Vatican will find someone else. I can send apologies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why? I can't understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli drew one hand across his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am anxious about you. Things keep coming into my head&mdash;and after
+      all, there is no need for me to go&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the bishopric&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Arthur! what shall it profit me if I gain a bishopric and lose&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off. Arthur had never seen him like this before, and was greatly
+      troubled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't understand,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Padre, if you could explain to me more&mdash;more
+      definitely, what it is you think&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think nothing; I am haunted with a horrible fear. Tell me, is there any
+      special danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has heard something,&rdquo; Arthur thought, remembering the whispers of a
+      projected revolt. But the secret was not his to tell; and he merely
+      answered: &ldquo;What special danger should there be?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't question me&mdash;answer me!&rdquo; Montanelli's voice was almost harsh
+      in its eagerness. &ldquo;Are you in danger? I don't want to know your secrets;
+      only tell me that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are all in God's hands, Padre; anything may always happen. But I know
+      of no reason why I should not be here alive and safe when you come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I come back&mdash;&mdash;Listen, carino; I will leave it in your
+      hands. You need give me no reason; only say to me, 'Stay,' and I will give
+      up this journey. There will be no injury to anyone, and I shall feel you
+      are safer if I have you beside me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This kind of morbid fancifulness was so foreign to Montanelli's character
+      that Arthur looked at him with grave anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre, I am sure you are not well. Of course you must go to Rome, and try
+      to have a thorough rest and get rid of your sleeplessness and headaches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; Montanelli interrupted, as if tired of the subject; &ldquo;I will
+      start by the early coach to-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur looked at him, wondering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had something to tell me?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; nothing more&mdash;nothing of any consequence.&rdquo; There was a
+      startled, almost terrified look in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few days after Montanelli's departure Arthur went to fetch a book from
+      the seminary library, and met Father Cardi on the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Mr. Burton!&rdquo; exclaimed the Director; &ldquo;the very person I wanted.
+      Please come in and help me out of a difficulty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the study door, and Arthur followed him into the room with a
+      foolish, secret sense of resentment. It seemed hard to see this dear
+      study, the Padre's own private sanctum, invaded by a stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a terrible book-worm,&rdquo; said the Director; &ldquo;and my first act when I
+      got here was to examine the library. It seems very interesting, but I do
+      not understand the system by which it is catalogued.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The catalogue is imperfect; many of the best books have been added to the
+      collection lately.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you spare half an hour to explain the arrangement to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They went into the library, and Arthur carefully explained the catalogue.
+      When he rose to take his hat, the Director interfered, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no! I can't have you rushing off in that way. It is Saturday, and
+      quite time for you to leave off work till Monday morning. Stop and have
+      supper with me, now I have kept you so late. I am quite alone, and shall
+      be glad of company.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His manner was so bright and pleasant that Arthur felt at ease with him at
+      once. After some desultory conversation, the Director inquired how long he
+      had known Montanelli.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For about seven years. He came back from China when I was twelve years
+      old.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes! It was there that he gained his reputation as a missionary
+      preacher. Have you been his pupil ever since?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He began teaching me a year later, about the time when I first confessed
+      to him. Since I have been at the Sapienza he has still gone on helping me
+      with anything I wanted to study that was not in the regular course. He has
+      been very kind to me&mdash;you can hardly imagine how kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can well believe it; he is a man whom no one can fail to admire&mdash;a
+      most noble and beautiful nature. I have met priests who were out in China
+      with him; and they had no words high enough to praise his energy and
+      courage under all hardships, and his unfailing devotion. You are fortunate
+      to have had in your youth the help and guidance of such a man. I
+      understood from him that you have lost both parents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; my father died when I was a child, and my mother a year ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you brothers and sisters?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I have step-brothers; but they were business men when I was in the
+      nursery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must have had a lonely childhood; perhaps you value Canon
+      Montanelli's kindness the more for that. By the way, have you chosen a
+      confessor for the time of his absence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought of going to one of the fathers of Santa Caterina, if they have
+      not too many penitents.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you confess to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur opened his eyes in wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Reverend Father, of course I&mdash;should be glad; only&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only the Director of a theological seminary does not usually receive lay
+      penitents? That is quite true. But I know Canon Montanelli takes a great
+      interest in you, and I fancy he is a little anxious on your behalf&mdash;just
+      as I should be if I were leaving a favourite pupil&mdash;and would like to
+      know you were under the spiritual guidance of his colleague. And, to be
+      quite frank with you, my son, I like you, and should be glad to give you
+      any help I can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you put it that way, of course I shall be very grateful for your
+      guidance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will come to me next month? That's right. And run in to see me,
+      my lad, when you have time any evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      Shortly before Easter Montanelli's appointment to the little see of
+      Brisighella, in the Etruscan Apennines, was officially announced. He wrote
+      to Arthur from Rome in a cheerful and tranquil spirit; evidently his
+      depression was passing over. &ldquo;You must come to see me every vacation,&rdquo; he
+      wrote; &ldquo;and I shall often be coming to Pisa; so I hope to see a good deal
+      of you, if not so much as I should wish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Warren had invited Arthur to spend the Easter holidays with him and
+      his children, instead of in the dreary, rat-ridden old place where Julia
+      now reigned supreme. Enclosed in the letter was a short note, scrawled in
+      Gemma's childish, irregular handwriting, begging him to come if possible,
+      &ldquo;as I want to talk to you about something.&rdquo; Still more encouraging was the
+      whispered communication passing around from student to student in the
+      university; everyone was to be prepared for great things after Easter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this had put Arthur into a state of rapturous anticipation, in which
+      the wildest improbabilities hinted at among the students seemed to him
+      natural and likely to be realized within the next two months.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He arranged to go home on Thursday in Passion week, and to spend the first
+      days of the vacation there, that the pleasure of visiting the Warrens and
+      the delight of seeing Gemma might not unfit him for the solemn religious
+      meditation demanded by the Church from all her children at this season. He
+      wrote to Gemma, promising to come on Easter Monday; and went up to his
+      bedroom on Wednesday night with a soul at peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He knelt down before the crucifix. Father Cardi had promised to receive
+      him in the morning; and for this, his last confession before the Easter
+      communion, he must prepare himself by long and earnest prayer. Kneeling
+      with clasped hands and bent head, he looked back over the month, and
+      reckoned up the miniature sins of impatience, carelessness, hastiness of
+      temper, which had left their faint, small spots upon the whiteness of his
+      soul. Beyond these he could find nothing; in this month he had been too
+      happy to sin much. He crossed himself, and, rising, began to undress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he unfastened his shirt a scrap of paper slipped from it and fluttered
+      to the floor. It was Gemma's letter, which he had worn all day upon his
+      neck. He picked it up, unfolded it, and kissed the dear scribble; then
+      began folding the paper up again, with a dim consciousness of having done
+      something very ridiculous, when he noticed on the back of the sheet a
+      postscript which he had not read before. &ldquo;Be sure and come as soon as
+      possible,&rdquo; it ran, &ldquo;for I want you to meet Bolla. He has been staying
+      here, and we have read together every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hot colour went up to Arthur's forehead as he read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Always Bolla! What was he doing in Leghorn again? And why should Gemma
+      want to read with him? Had he bewitched her with his smuggling? It had
+      been quite easy to see at the meeting in January that he was in love with
+      her; that was why he had been so earnest over his propaganda. And now he
+      was close to her&mdash;reading with her every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur suddenly threw the letter aside and knelt down again before the
+      crucifix. And this was the soul that was preparing for absolution, for the
+      Easter sacrament&mdash;the soul at peace with God and itself and all the
+      world! A soul capable of sordid jealousies and suspicions; of selfish
+      animosities and ungenerous hatred&mdash;and against a comrade! He covered
+      his face with both hands in bitter humiliation. Only five minutes ago he
+      had been dreaming of martyrdom; and now he had been guilty of a mean and
+      petty thought like this!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he entered the seminary chapel on Thursday morning he found Father
+      Cardi alone. After repeating the Confiteor, he plunged at once into the
+      subject of his last night's backsliding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father, I accuse myself of the sins of jealousy and anger, and of
+      unworthy thoughts against one who has done me no wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Farther Cardi knew quite well with what kind of penitent he had to deal.
+      He only said softly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not told me all, my son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father, the man against whom I have thought an unchristian thought is one
+      whom I am especially bound to love and honour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One to whom you are bound by ties of blood?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By a still closer tie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By what tie, my son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By that of comradeship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Comradeship in what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In a great and holy work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A little pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your anger against this&mdash;comrade, your jealousy of him, was
+      called forth by his success in that work being greater than yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;yes, partly. I envied him his experience&mdash;his usefulness.
+      And then&mdash;I thought&mdash;I feared&mdash;that he would take from me
+      the heart of the girl I&mdash;love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this girl that you love, is she a daughter of the Holy Church?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; she is a Protestant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A heretic?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur clasped his hands in great distress. &ldquo;Yes, a heretic,&rdquo; he repeated.
+      &ldquo;We were brought up together; our mothers were friends&mdash;and I&mdash;envied
+      him, because I saw that he loves her, too, and because&mdash;because&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; said Father Cardi, speaking after a moment's silence, slowly and
+      gravely, &ldquo;you have still not told me all; there is more than this upon
+      your soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father, I&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He faltered and broke off again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The priest waited silently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I envied him because the society&mdash;the Young Italy&mdash;that I
+      belong to&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Intrusted him with a work that I had hoped&mdash;would be given to me,
+      that I had thought myself&mdash;specially adapted for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What work?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The taking in of books&mdash;political books&mdash;from the steamers that
+      bring them&mdash;and finding a hiding place for them&mdash;in the town&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And this work was given by the party to your rival?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To Bolla&mdash;and I envied him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And he gave you no cause for this feeling? You do not accuse him of
+      having neglected the mission intrusted to him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, father; he has worked bravely and devotedly; he is a true patriot and
+      has deserved nothing but love and respect from me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Father Cardi pondered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son, if there is within you a new light, a dream of some great work to
+      be accomplished for your fellow-men, a hope that shall lighten the burdens
+      of the weary and oppressed, take heed how you deal with the most precious
+      blessing of God. All good things are of His giving; and of His giving is
+      the new birth. If you have found the way of sacrifice, the way that leads
+      to peace; if you have joined with loving comrades to bring deliverance to
+      them that weep and mourn in secret; then see to it that your soul be free
+      from envy and passion and your heart as an altar where the sacred fire
+      burns eternally. Remember that this is a high and holy thing, and that the
+      heart which would receive it must be purified from every selfish thought.
+      This vocation is as the vocation of a priest; it is not for the love of a
+      woman, nor for the moment of a fleeting passion; it is FOR GOD AND THE
+      PEOPLE; it is NOW AND FOREVER.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; Arthur started and clasped his hands; he had almost burst out
+      sobbing at the motto. &ldquo;Father, you give us the sanction of the Church!
+      Christ is on our side&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; the priest answered solemnly, &ldquo;Christ drove the moneychangers
+      out of the Temple, for His House shall be called a House of Prayer, and
+      they had made it a den of thieves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a long silence, Arthur whispered tremulously:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Italy shall be His Temple when they are driven out&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped; and the soft answer came back:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'The earth and the fulness thereof are mine, saith the Lord.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THAT afternoon Arthur felt the need of a long walk. He intrusted his
+      luggage to a fellow-student and went to Leghorn on foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The day was damp and cloudy, but not cold; and the low, level country
+      seemed to him fairer than he had ever known it to look before. He had a
+      sense of delight in the soft elasticity of the wet grass under his feet
+      and in the shy, wondering eyes of the wild spring flowers by the roadside.
+      In a thorn-acacia bush at the edge of a little strip of wood a bird was
+      building a nest, and flew up as he passed with a startled cry and a quick
+      fluttering of brown wings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He tried to keep his mind fixed upon the devout meditations proper to the
+      eve of Good Friday. But thoughts of Montanelli and Gemma got so much in
+      the way of this devotional exercise that at last he gave up the attempt
+      and allowed his fancy to drift away to the wonders and glories of the
+      coming insurrection, and to the part in it that he had allotted to his two
+      idols. The Padre was to be the leader, the apostle, the prophet before
+      whose sacred wrath the powers of darkness were to flee, and at whose feet
+      the young defenders of Liberty were to learn afresh the old doctrines, the
+      old truths in their new and unimagined significance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And Gemma? Oh, Gemma would fight at the barricades. She was made of the
+      clay from which heroines are moulded; she would be the perfect comrade,
+      the maiden undefiled and unafraid, of whom so many poets have dreamed. She
+      would stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, rejoicing under the winged
+      death-storm; and they would die together, perhaps in the moment of victory&mdash;without
+      doubt there would be a victory. Of his love he would tell her nothing; he
+      would say no word that might disturb her peace or spoil her tranquil sense
+      of comradeship. She was to him a holy thing, a spotless victim to be laid
+      upon the altar as a burnt-offering for the deliverance of the people; and
+      who was he that he should enter into the white sanctuary of a soul that
+      knew no other love than God and Italy?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      God and Italy&mdash;&mdash;Then came a sudden drop from the clouds as he
+      entered the great, dreary house in the &ldquo;Street of Palaces,&rdquo; and Julia's
+      butler, immaculate, calm, and politely disapproving as ever, confronted
+      him upon the stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening, Gibbons; are my brothers in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Thomas is in, sir; and Mrs. Burton. They are in the drawing room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur went in with a dull sense of oppression. What a dismal house it
+      was! The flood of life seemed to roll past and leave it always just above
+      high-water mark. Nothing in it ever changed&mdash;neither the people, nor
+      the family portraits, nor the heavy furniture and ugly plate, nor the
+      vulgar ostentation of riches, nor the lifeless aspect of everything. Even
+      the flowers on the brass stands looked like painted metal flowers that had
+      never known the stirring of young sap within them in the warm spring days.
+      Julia, dressed for dinner, and waiting for visitors in the drawing room
+      which was to her the centre of existence, might have sat for a
+      fashion-plate just as she was, with her wooden smile and flaxen ringlets,
+      and the lap-dog on her knee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, Arthur?&rdquo; she said stiffly, giving him the tips of her
+      fingers for a moment, and then transferring them to the more congenial
+      contact of the lap-dog's silken coat. &ldquo;I hope you are quite well and have
+      made satisfactory progress at college.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur murmured the first commonplace that he could think of at the
+      moment, and relapsed into uncomfortable silence. The arrival of James, in
+      his most pompous mood and accompanied by a stiff, elderly shipping-agent,
+      did not improve matters; and when Gibbons announced that dinner was
+      served, Arthur rose with a little sigh of relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't come to dinner, Julia. If you'll excuse me I will go to my room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're overdoing that fasting, my boy,&rdquo; said Thomas; &ldquo;I am sure you'll
+      make yourself ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the corridor Arthur met the under housemaid and asked her to knock at
+      his door at six in the morning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The signorino is going to church?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Good-night, Teresa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into his room. It had belonged to his mother, and the alcove
+      opposite the window had been fitted up during her long illness as an
+      oratory. A great crucifix on a black pedestal occupied the middle of the
+      altar; and before it hung a little Roman lamp. This was the room where she
+      had died. Her portrait was on the wall beside the bed; and on the table
+      stood a china bowl which had been hers, filled with a great bunch of her
+      favourite violets. It was just a year since her death; and the Italian
+      servants had not forgotten her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took out of his portmanteau a framed picture, carefully wrapped up. It
+      was a crayon portrait of Montanelli, which had come from Rome only a few
+      days before. He was unwrapping this precious treasure when Julia's page
+      brought in a supper-tray on which the old Italian cook, who had served
+      Gladys before the harsh, new mistress came, had placed such little
+      delicacies as she considered her dear signorino might permit himself to
+      eat without infringing the rules of the Church. Arthur refused everything
+      but a piece of bread; and the page, a nephew of Gibbons, lately arrived
+      from England, grinned significantly as he carried out the tray. He had
+      already joined the Protestant camp in the servants' hall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur went into the alcove and knelt down before the crucifix, trying to
+      compose his mind to the proper attitude for prayer and meditation. But
+      this he found difficult to accomplish. He had, as Thomas said, rather
+      overdone the Lenten privations, and they had gone to his head like strong
+      wine. Little quivers of excitement went down his back, and the crucifix
+      swam in a misty cloud before his eyes. It was only after a long litany,
+      mechanically repeated, that he succeeded in recalling his wandering
+      imagination to the mystery of the Atonement. At last sheer physical
+      weariness conquered the feverish agitation of his nerves, and he lay down
+      to sleep in a calm and peaceful mood, free from all unquiet or disturbing
+      thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was fast asleep when a sharp, impatient knock came at his door. &ldquo;Ah,
+      Teresa!&rdquo; he thought, turning over lazily. The knock was repeated, and he
+      awoke with a violent start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signorino! signorino!&rdquo; cried a man's voice in Italian; &ldquo;get up for the
+      love of God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur jumped out of bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter? Who is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's I, Gian Battista. Get up, quick, for Our Lady's sake!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur hurriedly dressed and opened the door. As he stared in perplexity
+      at the coachman's pale, terrified face, the sound of tramping feet and
+      clanking metal came along the corridor, and he suddenly realized the
+      truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For me?&rdquo; he asked coolly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For you! Oh, signorino, make haste! What have you to hide? See, I can put&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have nothing to hide. Do my brothers know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The first uniform appeared at the turn of the passage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The signor has been called; all the house is awake. Alas! what a
+      misfortune&mdash;what a terrible misfortune! And on Good Friday! Holy
+      Saints, have pity!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gian Battista burst into tears. Arthur moved a few steps forward and
+      waited for the gendarmes, who came clattering along, followed by a
+      shivering crowd of servants in various impromptu costumes. As the soldiers
+      surrounded Arthur, the master and mistress of the house brought up the
+      rear of this strange procession; he in dressing gown and slippers, she in
+      a long peignoir, with her hair in curlpapers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the
+      ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The quotation flashed across Arthur's mind as he looked at the grotesque
+      figures. He checked a laugh with a sense of its jarring incongruity&mdash;this
+      was a time for worthier thoughts. &ldquo;Ave Maria, Regina Coeli!&rdquo; he whispered,
+      and turned his eyes away, that the bobbing of Julia's curlpapers might not
+      again tempt him to levity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kindly explain to me,&rdquo; said Mr. Burton, approaching the officer of
+      gendarmerie, &ldquo;what is the meaning of this violent intrusion into a private
+      house? I warn you that, unless you are prepared to furnish me with a
+      satisfactory explanation, I shall feel bound to complain to the English
+      Ambassador.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I presume,&rdquo; replied the officer stiffly, &ldquo;that you will recognize this as
+      a sufficient explanation; the English Ambassador certainly will.&rdquo; He
+      pulled out a warrant for the arrest of Arthur Burton, student of
+      philosophy, and, handing it to James, added coldly: &ldquo;If you wish for any
+      further explanation, you had better apply in person to the chief of
+      police.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Julia snatched the paper from her husband, glanced over it, and flew at
+      Arthur like nothing else in the world but a fashionable lady in a rage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it's you that have disgraced the family!&rdquo; she screamed; &ldquo;setting all
+      the rabble in the town gaping and staring as if the thing were a show? So
+      you have turned jail-bird, now, with all your piety! It's what we might
+      have expected from that Popish woman's child&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must not speak to a prisoner in a foreign language, madam,&rdquo; the
+      officer interrupted; but his remonstrance was hardly audible under the
+      torrent of Julia's vociferous English.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just what we might have expected! Fasting and prayer and saintly
+      meditation; and this is what was underneath it all! I thought that would
+      be the end of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr. Warren had once compared Julia to a salad into which the cook had
+      upset the vinegar cruet. The sound of her thin, hard voice set Arthur's
+      teeth on edge, and the simile suddenly popped up in his memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's no use in this kind of talk,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You need not be afraid of
+      any unpleasantness; everyone will understand that you are all quite
+      innocent. I suppose, gentlemen, you want to search my things. I have
+      nothing to hide.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While the gendarmes ransacked the room, reading his letters, examining his
+      college papers, and turning out drawers and boxes, he sat waiting on the
+      edge of the bed, a little flushed with excitement, but in no way
+      distressed. The search did not disquiet him. He had always burned letters
+      which could possibly compromise anyone, and beyond a few manuscript
+      verses, half revolutionary, half mystical, and two or three numbers of
+      Young Italy, the gendarmes found nothing to repay them for their trouble.
+      Julia, after a long resistance, yielded to the entreaties of her
+      brother-in-law and went back to bed, sweeping past Arthur with magnificent
+      disdain, James meekly following.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When they had left the room, Thomas, who all this while had been tramping
+      up and down, trying to look indifferent, approached the officer and asked
+      permission to speak to the prisoner. Receiving a nod in answer, he went up
+      to Arthur and muttered in a rather husky voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say; this is an infernally awkward business. I'm very sorry about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur looked up with a face as serene as a summer morning. &ldquo;You have
+      always been good to me,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There's nothing to be sorry about. I
+      shall be safe enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here, Arthur!&rdquo; Thomas gave his moustache a hard pull and plunged
+      head first into the awkward question. &ldquo;Is&mdash;all this anything to do
+      with&mdash;money? Because, if it is, I&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With money! Why, no! What could it have to do&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it's some political tomfoolery? I thought so. Well, don't you get
+      down in the mouth&mdash;and never mind all the stuff Julia talks. It's
+      only her spiteful tongue; and if you want help,&mdash;cash, or anything,&mdash;let
+      me know, will you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur held out his hand in silence, and Thomas left the room with a
+      carefully made-up expression of unconcern that rendered his face more
+      stolid than ever.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gendarmes, meanwhile, had finished their search, and the officer in
+      charge requested Arthur to put on his outdoor clothes. He obeyed at once
+      and turned to leave the room; then stopped with sudden hesitation. It
+      seemed hard to take leave of his mother's oratory in the presence of these
+      officials.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any objection to leaving the room for a moment?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;You
+      see that I cannot escape and that there is nothing to conceal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry, but it is forbidden to leave a prisoner alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, it doesn't matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into the alcove, and, kneeling down, kissed the feet and pedestal
+      of the crucifix, whispering softly: &ldquo;Lord, keep me faithful unto death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he rose, the officer was standing by the table, examining
+      Montanelli's portrait. &ldquo;Is this a relative of yours?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it is my confessor, the new Bishop of Brisighella.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On the staircase the Italian servants were waiting, anxious and sorrowful.
+      They all loved Arthur for his own sake and his mother's, and crowded round
+      him, kissing his hands and dress with passionate grief. Gian Battista
+      stood by, the tears dripping down his gray moustache. None of the Burtons
+      came out to take leave of him. Their coldness accentuated the tenderness
+      and sympathy of the servants, and Arthur was near to breaking down as he
+      pressed the hands held out to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-bye, Gian Battista. Kiss the little ones for me. Good-bye, Teresa.
+      Pray for me, all of you; and God keep you! Good-bye, good-bye!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He ran hastily downstairs to the front door. A moment later only a little
+      group of silent men and sobbing women stood on the doorstep watching the
+      carriage as it drove away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      ARTHUR was taken to the huge mediaeval fortress at the harbour's mouth. He
+      found prison life fairly endurable. His cell was unpleasantly damp and
+      dark; but he had been brought up in a palace in the Via Borra, and neither
+      close air, rats, nor foul smells were novelties to him. The food, also,
+      was both bad and insufficient; but James soon obtained permission to send
+      him all the necessaries of life from home. He was kept in solitary
+      confinement, and, though the vigilance of the warders was less strict than
+      he had expected, he failed to obtain any explanation of the cause of his
+      arrest. Nevertheless, the tranquil frame of mind in which he had entered
+      the fortress did not change. Not being allowed books, he spent his time in
+      prayer and devout meditation, and waited without impatience or anxiety for
+      the further course of events.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day a soldier unlocked the door of his cell and called to him: &ldquo;This
+      way, please!&rdquo; After two or three questions, to which he got no answer but,
+      &ldquo;Talking is forbidden,&rdquo; Arthur resigned himself to the inevitable and
+      followed the soldier through a labyrinth of courtyards, corridors, and
+      stairs, all more or less musty-smelling, into a large, light room in which
+      three persons in military uniform sat at a long table covered with green
+      baize and littered with papers, chatting in a languid, desultory way. They
+      put on a stiff, business air as he came in, and the oldest of them, a
+      foppish-looking man with gray whiskers and a colonel's uniform, pointed to
+      a chair on the other side of the table and began the preliminary
+      interrogation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur had expected to be threatened, abused, and sworn at, and had
+      prepared himself to answer with dignity and patience; but he was
+      pleasantly disappointed. The colonel was stiff, cold and formal, but
+      perfectly courteous. The usual questions as to his name, age, nationality,
+      and social position were put and answered, and the replies written down in
+      monotonous succession. He was beginning to feel bored and impatient, when
+      the colonel asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now, Mr. Burton, what do you know about Young Italy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know that it is a society which publishes a newspaper in Marseilles and
+      circulates it in Italy, with the object of inducing people to revolt and
+      drive the Austrian army out of the country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have read this paper, I think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I am interested in the subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you read it you realized that you were committing an illegal
+      action?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did you get the copies which were found in your room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I cannot tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Burton, you must not say 'I cannot tell' here; you are bound to
+      answer my questions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not, then, if you object to 'cannot.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will regret it if you permit yourself to use such expressions,&rdquo;
+       remarked the colonel. As Arthur made no reply, he went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I may as well tell you that evidence has come into our hands proving your
+      connection with this society to be much more intimate than is implied by
+      the mere reading of forbidden literature. It will be to your advantage to
+      confess frankly. In any case the truth will be sure to come out, and you
+      will find it useless to screen yourself behind evasion and denials.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no desire to screen myself. What is it you want to know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Firstly, how did you, a foreigner, come to be implicated in matters of
+      this kind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought about the subject and read everything I could get hold of, and
+      formed my own conclusions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who persuaded you to join this society?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one; I wished to join it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are shilly-shallying with me,&rdquo; said the colonel, sharply; his
+      patience was evidently beginning to give out. &ldquo;No one can join a society
+      by himself. To whom did you communicate your wish to join it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you have the kindness to answer me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not when you ask questions of that kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur spoke sullenly; a curious, nervous irritability was taking
+      possession of him. He knew by this time that many arrests had been made in
+      both Leghorn and Pisa; and, though still ignorant of the extent of the
+      calamity, he had already heard enough to put him into a fever of anxiety
+      for the safety of Gemma and his other friends. The studied politeness of
+      the officers, the dull game of fencing and parrying, of insidious
+      questions and evasive answers, worried and annoyed him, and the clumsy
+      tramping backward and forward of the sentinel outside the door jarred
+      detestably upon his ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, by the bye, when did you last meet Giovanni Bolla?&rdquo; asked the
+      colonel, after a little more bandying of words. &ldquo;Just before you left
+      Pisa, was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know no one of that name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Giovanni Bolla? Surely you know him&mdash;a tall young fellow,
+      closely shaven. Why, he is one of your fellow-students.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are many students in the university whom I don't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but you must know Bolla, surely! Look, this is his handwriting. You
+      see, he knows you well enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The colonel carelessly handed him a paper headed: &ldquo;Protocol,&rdquo; and signed:
+      &ldquo;Giovanni Bolla.&rdquo; Glancing down it Arthur came upon his own name. He
+      looked up in surprise. &ldquo;Am I to read it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you may as well; it concerns you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to read, while the officers sat silently watching his face. The
+      document appeared to consist of depositions in answer to a long string of
+      questions. Evidently Bolla, too, must have been arrested. The first
+      depositions were of the usual stereotyped character; then followed a short
+      account of Bolla's connection with the society, of the dissemination of
+      prohibited literature in Leghorn, and of the students' meetings. Next came
+      &ldquo;Among those who joined us was a young Englishman, Arthur Burton, who
+      belongs to one of the rich shipowning families.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The blood rushed into Arthur's face. Bolla had betrayed him! Bolla, who
+      had taken upon himself the solemn duties of an initiator&mdash;Bolla, who
+      had converted Gemma&mdash;who was in love with her! He laid down the paper
+      and stared at the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope that little document has refreshed your memory?&rdquo; hinted the
+      colonel politely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur shook his head. &ldquo;I know no one of that name,&rdquo; he repeated in a
+      dull, hard voice. &ldquo;There must be some mistake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mistake? Oh, nonsense! Come, Mr. Burton, chivalry and quixotism are very
+      fine things in their way; but there's no use in overdoing them. It's an
+      error all you young people fall into at first. Come, think! What good is
+      it for you to compromise yourself and spoil your prospects in life over a
+      simple formality about a man that has betrayed you? You see yourself, he
+      wasn't so particular as to what he said about you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A faint shade of something like mockery had crept into the colonel's
+      voice. Arthur looked up with a start; a sudden light flashed upon his
+      mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a lie!&rdquo; he cried out. &ldquo;It's a forgery! I can see it in your face,
+      you cowardly&mdash;&mdash;You've got some prisoner there you want to
+      compromise, or a trap you want to drag me into. You are a forger, and a
+      liar, and a scoundrel&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Silence!&rdquo; shouted the colonel, starting up in a rage; his two colleagues
+      were already on their feet. &ldquo;Captain Tommasi,&rdquo; he went on, turning to one
+      of them, &ldquo;ring for the guard, if you please, and have this young gentleman
+      put in the punishment cell for a few days. He wants a lesson, I see, to
+      bring him to reason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The punishment cell was a dark, damp, filthy hole under ground. Instead of
+      bringing Arthur &ldquo;to reason,&rdquo; it thoroughly exasperated him. His luxurious
+      home had rendered him daintily fastidious about personal cleanliness, and
+      the first effect of the slimy, vermin-covered walls, the floor heaped with
+      accumulations of filth and garbage, the fearful stench of fungi and sewage
+      and rotting wood, was strong enough to have satisfied the offended
+      officer. When he was pushed in and the door locked behind him he took
+      three cautious steps forward with outstretched hands, shuddering with
+      disgust as his fingers came into contact with the slippery wall, and
+      groped in the dense blackness for some spot less filthy than the rest in
+      which to sit down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The long day passed in unbroken blackness and silence, and the night
+      brought no change. In the utter void and absence of all external
+      impressions, he gradually lost the consciousness of time; and when, on the
+      following morning, a key was turned in the door lock, and the frightened
+      rats scurried past him squeaking, he started up in a sudden panic, his
+      heart throbbing furiously and a roaring noise in his ears, as though he
+      had been shut away from light and sound for months instead of hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The door opened, letting in a feeble lantern gleam&mdash;a flood of
+      blinding light, it seemed to him&mdash;and the head warder entered,
+      carrying a piece of bread and a mug of water. Arthur made a step forward;
+      he was quite convinced that the man had come to let him out. Before he had
+      time to speak, the warder put the bread and mug into his hands, turned
+      round and went away without a word, locking the door again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur stamped his foot upon the ground. For the first time in his life he
+      was savagely angry. But as the hours went by, the consciousness of time
+      and place gradually slipped further and further away. The blackness seemed
+      an illimitable thing, with no beginning and no end, and life had, as it
+      were, stopped for him. On the evening of the third day, when the door was
+      opened and the head warder appeared on the threshold with a soldier, he
+      looked up, dazed and bewildered, shading his eyes from the unaccustomed
+      light, and vaguely wondering how many hours or weeks he had been in this
+      grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This way, please,&rdquo; said the cool business voice of the warder. Arthur
+      rose and moved forward mechanically, with a strange unsteadiness, swaying
+      and stumbling like a drunkard. He resented the warder's attempt to help
+      him up the steep, narrow steps leading to the courtyard; but as he reached
+      the highest step a sudden giddiness came over him, so that he staggered
+      and would have fallen backwards had the warder not caught him by the
+      shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, he'll be all right now,&rdquo; said a cheerful voice; &ldquo;they most of them
+      go off this way coming out into the air.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur struggled desperately for breath as another handful of water was
+      dashed into his face. The blackness seemed to fall away from him in pieces
+      with a rushing noise; then he woke suddenly into full consciousness, and,
+      pushing aside the warder's arm, walked along the corridor and up the
+      stairs almost steadily. They stopped for a moment in front of a door; then
+      it opened, and before he realized where they were taking him he was in the
+      brightly lighted interrogation room, staring in confused wonder at the
+      table and the papers and the officers sitting in their accustomed places.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, it's Mr. Burton!&rdquo; said the colonel. &ldquo;I hope we shall be able to talk
+      more comfortably now. Well, and how do you like the dark cell? Not quite
+      so luxurious as your brother's drawing room, is it? eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur raised his eyes to the colonel's smiling face. He was seized by a
+      frantic desire to spring at the throat of this gray-whiskered fop and tear
+      it with his teeth. Probably something of this kind was visible in his
+      face, for the colonel added immediately, in a quite different tone:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, Mr. Burton, and drink some water; you are excited.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur pushed aside the glass of water held out to him; and, leaning his
+      arms on the table, rested his forehead on one hand and tried to collect
+      his thoughts. The colonel sat watching him keenly, noting with experienced
+      eyes the unsteady hands and lips, the hair dripping with water, the dim
+      gaze that told of physical prostration and disordered nerves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Mr. Burton,&rdquo; he said after a few minutes; &ldquo;we will start at the
+      point where we left off; and as there has been a certain amount of
+      unpleasantness between us, I may as well begin by saying that I, for my
+      part, have no desire to be anything but indulgent with you. If you will
+      behave properly and reasonably, I assure you that we shall not treat you
+      with any unnecessary harshness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want me to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur spoke in a hard, sullen voice, quite different from his natural
+      tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only want you to tell us frankly, in a straightforward and honourable
+      manner, what you know of this society and its adherents. First of all, how
+      long have you known Bolla?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never met him in my life. I know nothing whatever about him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really? Well, we will return to that subject presently. I think you know
+      a young man named Carlo Bini?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never heard of such a person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very extraordinary. What about Francesco Neri?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never heard the name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But here is a letter in your handwriting, addressed to him. Look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur glanced carelessly at the letter and laid it aside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you recognize that letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You deny that it is in your writing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I deny nothing. I have no recollection of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you remember this one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A second letter was handed to him, and he saw that it was one which he had
+      written in the autumn to a fellow-student.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor the person to whom it is addressed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor the person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your memory is singularly short.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a defect from which I have always suffered.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Indeed! And I heard the other day from a university professor that you
+      are considered by no means deficient; rather clever in fact.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You probably judge of cleverness by the police-spy standard; university
+      professors use words in a different sense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The note of rising irritation was plainly audible in Arthur's voice. He
+      was physically exhausted with hunger, foul air, and want of sleep; every
+      bone in his body seemed to ache separately; and the colonel's voice grated
+      on his exasperated nerves, setting his teeth on edge like the squeak of a
+      slate pencil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Burton,&rdquo; said the colonel, leaning back in his chair and speaking
+      gravely, &ldquo;you are again forgetting yourself; and I warn you once more that
+      this kind of talk will do you no good. Surely you have had enough of the
+      dark cell not to want any more just for the present. I tell you plainly
+      that I shall use strong measures with you if you persist in repulsing
+      gentle ones. Mind, I have proof&mdash;positive proof&mdash;that some of
+      these young men have been engaged in smuggling prohibited literature into
+      this port; and that you have been in communication with them. Now, are you
+      going to tell me, without compulsion, what you know about this affair?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur bent his head lower. A blind, senseless, wild-beast fury was
+      beginning to stir within him like a live thing. The possibility of losing
+      command over himself was more appalling to him than any threats. For the
+      first time he began to realize what latent potentialities may lie hidden
+      beneath the culture of any gentleman and the piety of any Christian; and
+      the terror of himself was strong upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am waiting for your answer,&rdquo; said the colonel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no answer to give.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You positively refuse to answer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you nothing at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I must simply order you back into the punishment cell, and keep you
+      there till you change your mind. If there is much more trouble with you, I
+      shall put you in irons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur looked up, trembling from head to foot. &ldquo;You will do as you
+      please,&rdquo; he said slowly; &ldquo;and whether the English Ambassador will stand
+      your playing tricks of that kind with a British subject who has not been
+      convicted of any crime is for him to decide.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Arthur was conducted back to his own cell, where he flung himself
+      down upon the bed and slept till the next morning. He was not put in
+      irons, and saw no more of the dreaded dark cell; but the feud between him
+      and the colonel grew more inveterate with every interrogation. It was
+      quite useless for Arthur to pray in his cell for grace to conquer his evil
+      passions, or to meditate half the night long upon the patience and
+      meekness of Christ. No sooner was he brought again into the long, bare
+      room with its baize-covered table, and confronted with the colonel's waxed
+      moustache, than the unchristian spirit would take possession of him once
+      more, suggesting bitter repartees and contemptuous answers. Before he had
+      been a month in the prison the mutual irritation had reached such a height
+      that he and the colonel could not see each other's faces without losing
+      their temper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The continual strain of this petty warfare was beginning to tell heavily
+      upon his nerves. Knowing how closely he was watched, and remembering
+      certain dreadful rumours which he had heard of prisoners secretly drugged
+      with belladonna that notes might be taken of their ravings, he gradually
+      became afraid to sleep or eat; and if a mouse ran past him in the night,
+      would start up drenched with cold sweat and quivering with terror,
+      fancying that someone was hiding in the room to listen if he talked in his
+      sleep. The gendarmes were evidently trying to entrap him into making some
+      admission which might compromise Bolla; and so great was his fear of
+      slipping, by any inadvertency, into a pitfall, that he was really in
+      danger of doing so through sheer nervousness. Bolla's name rang in his
+      ears night and day, interfering even with his devotions, and forcing its
+      way in among the beads of the rosary instead of the name of Mary. But the
+      worst thing of all was that his religion, like the outer world, seemed to
+      be slipping away from him as the days went by. To this last foothold he
+      clung with feverish tenacity, spending several hours of each day in prayer
+      and meditation; but his thoughts wandered more and more often to Bolla,
+      and the prayers were growing terribly mechanical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His greatest comfort was the head warder of the prison. This was a little
+      old man, fat and bald, who at first had tried his hardest to wear a severe
+      expression. Gradually the good nature which peeped out of every dimple in
+      his chubby face conquered his official scruples, and he began carrying
+      messages for the prisoners from cell to cell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One afternoon in the middle of May this warder came into the cell with a
+      face so scowling and gloomy that Arthur looked at him in astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, Enrico!&rdquo; he exclaimed; &ldquo;what on earth is wrong with you to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; said Enrico snappishly; and, going up to the pallet, he began
+      pulling off the rug, which was Arthur's property.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want with my things? Am I to be moved into another cell?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; you're to be let out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let out? What&mdash;to-day? For altogether? Enrico!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In his excitement Arthur had caught hold of the old man's arm. It was
+      angrily wrenched away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Enrico! What has come to you? Why don't you answer? Are we all going to
+      be let out?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A contemptuous grunt was the only reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look here!&rdquo; Arthur again took hold of the warder's arm, laughing. &ldquo;It is
+      no use for you to be cross to me, because I'm not going to get offended. I
+      want to know about the others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which others?&rdquo; growled Enrico, suddenly laying down the shirt he was
+      folding. &ldquo;Not Bolla, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bolla and all the rest, of course. Enrico, what is the matter with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he's not likely to be let out in a hurry, poor lad, when a comrade
+      has betrayed him. Ugh!&rdquo; Enrico took up the shirt again in disgust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Betrayed him? A comrade? Oh, how dreadful!&rdquo; Arthur's eyes dilated with
+      horror. Enrico turned quickly round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, wasn't it you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I? Are you off your head, man? I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, they told him so yesterday at interrogation, anyhow. I'm very glad
+      if it wasn't you, for I always thought you were rather a decent young
+      fellow. This way!&rdquo; Enrico stepped out into the corridor and Arthur
+      followed him, a light breaking in upon the confusion of his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They told Bolla I'd betrayed him? Of course they did! Why, man, they told
+      me he had betrayed me. Surely Bolla isn't fool enough to believe that sort
+      of stuff?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it really isn't true?&rdquo; Enrico stopped at the foot of the stairs and
+      looked searchingly at Arthur, who merely shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it's a lie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I'm glad to hear it, my lad, and I'll tell him you said so. But you
+      see what they told him was that you had denounced him out of&mdash;well,
+      out of jealousy, because of your both being sweet on the same girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a lie!&rdquo; Arthur repeated the words in a quick, breathless whisper. A
+      sudden, paralyzing fear had come over him. &ldquo;The same girl&mdash;jealousy!&rdquo;
+       How could they know&mdash;how could they know?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute, my lad.&rdquo; Enrico stopped in the corridor leading to the
+      interrogation room, and spoke softly. &ldquo;I believe you; but just tell me one
+      thing. I know you're a Catholic; did you ever say anything in the
+      confessional&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a lie!&rdquo; This time Arthur's voice had risen to a stifled cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Enrico shrugged his shoulders and moved on again. &ldquo;You know best, of
+      course; but you wouldn't be the only young fool that's been taken in that
+      way. There's a tremendous ado just now about a priest in Pisa that some of
+      your friends have found out. They've printed a leaflet saying he's a spy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the door of the interrogation room, and, seeing that Arthur
+      stood motionless, staring blankly before him, pushed him gently across the
+      threshold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-afternoon, Mr. Burton,&rdquo; said the colonel, smiling and showing his
+      teeth amiably. &ldquo;I have great pleasure in congratulating you. An order for
+      your release has arrived from Florence. Will you kindly sign this paper?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur went up to him. &ldquo;I want to know,&rdquo; he said in a dull voice, &ldquo;who it
+      was that betrayed me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The colonel raised his eyebrows with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't you guess? Think a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur shook his head. The colonel put out both hands with a gesture of
+      polite surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can't guess? Really? Why, you yourself, Mr. Burton. Who else could know
+      your private love affairs?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur turned away in silence. On the wall hung a large wooden crucifix;
+      and his eyes wandered slowly to its face; but with no appeal in them, only
+      a dim wonder at this supine and patient God that had no thunderbolt for a
+      priest who betrayed the confessional.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you kindly sign this receipt for your papers?&rdquo; said the colonel
+      blandly; &ldquo;and then I need not keep you any longer. I am sure you must be
+      in a hurry to get home; and my time is very much taken up just now with
+      the affairs of that foolish young man, Bolla, who tried your Christian
+      forbearance so hard. I am afraid he will get a rather heavy sentence.
+      Good-afternoon!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur signed the receipt, took his papers, and went out in dead silence.
+      He followed Enrico to the massive gate; and, without a word of farewell,
+      descended to the water's edge, where a ferryman was waiting to take him
+      across the moat. As he mounted the stone steps leading to the street, a
+      girl in a cotton dress and straw hat ran up to him with outstretched
+      hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur! Oh, I'm so glad&mdash;I'm so glad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew his hands away, shivering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jim!&rdquo; he said at last, in a voice that did not seem to belong to him.
+      &ldquo;Jim!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've been waiting here for half an hour. They said you would come out at
+      four. Arthur, why do you look at me like that? Something has happened!
+      Arthur, what has come to you? Stop!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had turned away, and was walking slowly down the street, as if he had
+      forgotten her presence. Thoroughly frightened at his manner, she ran after
+      him and caught him by the arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped and looked up with bewildered eyes. She slipped her arm through
+      his, and they walked on again for a moment in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, dear,&rdquo; she began softly; &ldquo;you mustn't get so upset over this
+      wretched business. I know it's dreadfully hard on you, but everybody
+      understands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What business?&rdquo; he asked in the same dull voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, about Bolla's letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur's face contracted painfully at the name.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you wouldn't have heard of it,&rdquo; Gemma went on; &ldquo;but I suppose
+      they've told you. Bolla must be perfectly mad to have imagined such a
+      thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such a thing&mdash;&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know about it, then? He has written a horrible letter, saying
+      that you have told about the steamers, and got him arrested. It's
+      perfectly absurd, of course; everyone that knows you sees that; it's only
+      the people who don't know you that have been upset by it. Really, that's
+      what I came here for&mdash;to tell you that no one in our group believes a
+      word of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma! But it's&mdash;it's true!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shrank slowly away from him, and stood quite still, her eyes wide and
+      dark with horror, her face as white as the kerchief at her neck. A great
+      icy wave of silence seemed to have swept round them both, shutting them
+      out, in a world apart, from the life and movement of the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he whispered at last; &ldquo;the steamers&mdash;I spoke of that; and I
+      said his name&mdash;oh, my God! my God! What shall I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He came to himself suddenly, realizing her presence and the mortal terror
+      in her face. Yes, of course, she must think&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma, you don't understand!&rdquo; he burst out, moving nearer; but she
+      recoiled with a sharp cry:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't touch me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur seized her right hand with sudden violence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, for God's sake! It was not my fault; I&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let go; let my hand go! Let go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next instant she wrenched her fingers away from his, and struck him
+      across the cheek with her open hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A kind of mist came over his eyes. For a little while he was conscious of
+      nothing but Gemma's white and desperate face, and the right hand which she
+      had fiercely rubbed on the skirt of her cotton dress. Then the daylight
+      crept back again, and he looked round and saw that he was alone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      IT had long been dark when Arthur rang at the front door of the great
+      house in the Via Borra. He remembered that he had been wandering about the
+      streets; but where, or why, or for how long, he had no idea. Julia's page
+      opened the door, yawning, and grinned significantly at the haggard, stony
+      face. It seemed to him a prodigious joke to have the young master come
+      home from jail like a &ldquo;drunk and disorderly&rdquo; beggar. Arthur went upstairs.
+      On the first floor he met Gibbons coming down with an air of lofty and
+      solemn disapproval. He tried to pass with a muttered &ldquo;Good evening&rdquo;; but
+      Gibbons was no easy person to get past against his will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The gentlemen are out, sir,&rdquo; he said, looking critically at Arthur's
+      rather neglected dress and hair. &ldquo;They have gone with the mistress to an
+      evening party, and will not be back till nearly twelve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur looked at his watch; it was nine o'clock. Oh, yes! he would have
+      time&mdash;plenty of time&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My mistress desired me to ask whether you would like any supper, sir; and
+      to say that she hopes you will sit up for her, as she particularly wishes
+      to speak to you this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want anything, thank you; you can tell her I have not gone to
+      bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went up to his room. Nothing in it had been changed since his arrest;
+      Montanelli's portrait was on the table where he had placed it, and the
+      crucifix stood in the alcove as before. He paused a moment on the
+      threshold, listening; but the house was quite still; evidently no one was
+      coming to disturb him. He stepped softly into the room and locked the
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so he had come to the end. There was nothing to think or trouble
+      about; an importunate and useless consciousness to get rid of&mdash;and
+      nothing more. It seemed a stupid, aimless kind of thing, somehow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not formed any resolve to commit suicide, nor indeed had he thought
+      much about it; the thing was quite obvious and inevitable. He had even no
+      definite idea as to what manner of death to choose; all that mattered was
+      to be done with it quickly&mdash;to have it over and forget. He had no
+      weapon in the room, not even a pocketknife; but that was of no consequence&mdash;a
+      towel would do, or a sheet torn into strips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a large nail just over the window. That would do; but it must be
+      firm to bear his weight. He got up on a chair to feel the nail; it was not
+      quite firm, and he stepped down again and took a hammer from a drawer. He
+      knocked in the nail, and was about to pull a sheet off his bed, when he
+      suddenly remembered that he had not said his prayers. Of course, one must
+      pray before dying; every Christian does that. There are even special
+      prayers for a departing soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into the alcove and knelt down before the crucifix. &ldquo;Almighty and
+      merciful God&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; he began aloud; and with that broke off and
+      said no more. Indeed, the world was grown so dull that there was nothing
+      left to pray for&mdash;or against. And then, what did Christ know about a
+      trouble of this kind&mdash;Christ, who had never suffered it? He had only
+      been betrayed, like Bolla; He had never been tricked into betraying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur rose, crossing himself from old habit. Approaching the table, he
+      saw lying upon it a letter addressed to him, in Montanelli's handwriting.
+      It was in pencil:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My Dear Boy: It is a great disappointment to me that I cannot see you on
+      the day of your release; but I have been sent for to visit a dying man. I
+      shall not get back till late at night. Come to me early to-morrow morning.
+      In great haste,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;L. M.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He put down the letter with a sigh; it did seem hard on the Padre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How the people had laughed and gossiped in the streets! Nothing was
+      altered since the days when he had been alive. Not the least little one of
+      all the daily trifles round him was changed because a human soul, a living
+      human soul, had been struck down dead. It was all just the same as before.
+      The water had plashed in the fountains; the sparrows had twittered under
+      the eaves; just as they had done yesterday, just as they would do
+      to-morrow. And as for him, he was dead&mdash;quite dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed his arms along the foot-rail,
+      and rested his forehead upon them. There was plenty of time; and his head
+      ached so&mdash;the very middle of the brain seemed to ache; it was all so
+      dull and stupid&mdash;so utterly meaningless&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      The front-door bell rang sharply, and he started up in a breathless agony
+      of terror, with both hands at his throat. They had come back&mdash;he had
+      sat there dreaming, and let the precious time slip away&mdash;and now he
+      must see their faces and hear their cruel tongues&mdash;their sneers and
+      comments&mdash;If only he had a knife&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked desperately round the room. His mother's work-basket stood in a
+      little cupboard; surely there would be scissors; he might sever an artery.
+      No; the sheet and nail were safer, if he had time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He dragged the counterpane from his bed, and with frantic haste began
+      tearing off a strip. The sound of footsteps came up the stairs. No; the
+      strip was too wide; it would not tie firmly; and there must be a noose. He
+      worked faster as the footsteps drew nearer; and the blood throbbed in his
+      temples and roared in his ears. Quicker&mdash;quicker! Oh, God! five
+      minutes more!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a knock at the door. The strip of torn stuff dropped from his
+      hands, and he sat quite still, holding his breath to listen. The handle of
+      the door was tried; then Julia's voice called:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood up, panting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur, open the door, please; we are waiting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He gathered up the torn counterpane, threw it into a drawer, and hastily
+      smoothed down the bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; This time it was James who called, and the door-handle was
+      shaken impatiently. &ldquo;Are you asleep?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur looked round the room, saw that everything was hidden, and unlocked
+      the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think you might at least have obeyed my express request that you
+      should sit up for us, Arthur,&rdquo; said Julia, sweeping into the room in a
+      towering passion. &ldquo;You appear to think it the proper thing for us to dance
+      attendance for half an hour at your door&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Four minutes, my dear,&rdquo; James mildly corrected, stepping into the room at
+      the end of his wife's pink satin train. &ldquo;I certainly think, Arthur, that
+      it would have been more&mdash;becoming if&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want?&rdquo; Arthur interrupted. He was standing with his hand upon
+      the door, glancing furtively from one to the other like a trapped animal.
+      But James was too obtuse and Julia too angry to notice the look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Burton placed a chair for his wife and sat down, carefully pulling up
+      his new trousers at the knees. &ldquo;Julia and I,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;feel it to be our
+      duty to speak to you seriously about&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't listen to-night; I&mdash;I'm not well. My head aches&mdash;you
+      must wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur spoke in a strange, indistinct voice, with a confused and rambling
+      manner. James looked round in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there anything the matter with you?&rdquo; he asked anxiously, suddenly
+      remembering that Arthur had come from a very hotbed of infection. &ldquo;I hope
+      you're not sickening for anything. You look quite feverish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense!&rdquo; Julia interrupted sharply. &ldquo;It's only the usual theatricals,
+      because he's ashamed to face us. Come here and sit down, Arthur.&rdquo; Arthur
+      slowly crossed the room and sat down on the bed. &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; he said wearily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Burton coughed, cleared his throat, smoothed his already immaculate
+      beard, and began the carefully prepared speech over again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel it to be my duty&mdash;my painful duty&mdash;to speak very
+      seriously to you about your extraordinary behaviour in connecting yourself
+      with&mdash;a&mdash;law-breakers and incendiaries and&mdash;a&mdash;persons
+      of disreputable character. I believe you to have been, perhaps, more
+      foolish than depraved&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; Arthur said again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, I do not wish to be hard on you,&rdquo; James went on, softening a little
+      in spite of himself before the weary hopelessness of Arthur's manner. &ldquo;I
+      am quite willing to believe that you have been led away by bad companions,
+      and to take into account your youth and inexperience and the&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;imprudent
+      and&mdash;a&mdash;impulsive character which you have, I fear, inherited
+      from your mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur's eyes wandered slowly to his mother's portrait and back again, but
+      he did not speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you will, I feel sure, understand,&rdquo; James continued, &ldquo;that it is
+      quite impossible for me to keep any longer in my house a person who has
+      brought public disgrace upon a name so highly respected as ours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; Arthur repeated once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; said Julia sharply, closing her fan with a snap and laying it
+      across her knee. &ldquo;Are you going to have the goodness to say anything but
+      'Yes,' Arthur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will do as you think best, of course,&rdquo; he answered slowly, without
+      moving. &ldquo;It doesn't matter much either way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doesn't&mdash;matter?&rdquo; James repeated, aghast; and his wife rose with a
+      laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it doesn't matter, doesn't it? Well, James, I hope you understand now
+      how much gratitude you may expect in that quarter. I told you what would
+      come of showing charity to Papist adventuresses and their&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, hush! Never mind that, my dear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's all nonsense, James; we've had more than enough of this
+      sentimentality! A love-child setting himself up as a member of the family&mdash;it's
+      quite time he did know what his mother was! Why should we be saddled with
+      the child of a Popish priest's amourettes? There, then&mdash;look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of her pocket and tossed it
+      across the table to Arthur. He opened it; the writing was in his mother's
+      hand, and was dated four months before his birth. It was a confession,
+      addressed to her husband, and with two signatures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur's eyes travelled slowly down the page, past the unsteady letters in
+      which her name was written, to the strong, familiar signature: &ldquo;Lorenzo
+      Montanelli.&rdquo; For a moment he stared at the writing; then, without a word,
+      refolded the paper and laid it down. James rose and took his wife by the
+      arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, Julia, that will do. Just go downstairs now; it's late, and I want
+      to talk a little business with Arthur. It won't interest you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She glanced up at her husband; then back at Arthur, who was silently
+      staring at the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seems half stupid,&rdquo; she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had gathered up her train and left the room, James carefully shut
+      the door and went back to his chair beside the table. Arthur sat as
+      before, perfectly motionless and silent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; James began in a milder tone, now Julia was not there to hear,
+      &ldquo;I am very sorry that this has come out. You might just as well not have
+      known it. However, all that's over; and I am pleased to see that you can
+      behave with such self-control. Julia is a&mdash;a little excited; ladies
+      often&mdash;anyhow, I don't want to be too hard on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped to see what effect the kindly words had produced; but Arthur
+      was quite motionless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, my dear boy,&rdquo; James went on after a moment, &ldquo;this is a
+      distressing story altogether, and the best thing we can do is to hold our
+      tongues about it. My father was generous enough not to divorce your mother
+      when she confessed her fall to him; he only demanded that the man who had
+      led her astray should leave the country at once; and, as you know, he went
+      to China as a missionary. For my part, I was very much against your having
+      anything to do with him when he came back; but my father, just at the
+      last, consented to let him teach you, on condition that he never attempted
+      to see your mother. I must, in justice, acknowledge that I believe they
+      both observed that condition faithfully to the end. It is a very
+      deplorable business; but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur looked up. All the life and expression had gone out of his face; it
+      was like a waxen mask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;D-don't you think,&rdquo; he said softly, with a curious stammering hesitation
+      on the words, &ldquo;th-that&mdash;all this&mdash;is&mdash;v-very&mdash;funny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;FUNNY?&rdquo; James pushed his chair away from the table, and sat staring at
+      him, too much petrified for anger. &ldquo;Funny! Arthur, are you mad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur suddenly threw back his head, and burst into a frantic fit of
+      laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; exclaimed the shipowner, rising with dignity, &ldquo;I am amazed at
+      your levity!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer but peal after peal of laughter, so loud and
+      boisterous that even James began to doubt whether there was not something
+      more the matter here than levity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just like a hysterical woman,&rdquo; he muttered, turning, with a contemptuous
+      shrug of his shoulders, to tramp impatiently up and down the room.
+      &ldquo;Really, Arthur, you're worse than Julia; there, stop laughing! I can't
+      wait about here all night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He might as well have asked the crucifix to come down from its pedestal.
+      Arthur was past caring for remonstrances or exhortations; he only laughed,
+      and laughed, and laughed without end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is absurd!&rdquo; said James, stopping at last in his irritated pacing to
+      and fro. &ldquo;You are evidently too much excited to be reasonable to-night. I
+      can't talk business with you if you're going on that way. Come to me
+      to-morrow morning after breakfast. And now you had better go to bed.
+      Good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went out, slamming the door. &ldquo;Now for the hysterics downstairs,&rdquo; he
+      muttered as he tramped noisily away. &ldquo;I suppose it'll be tears there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      The frenzied laughter died on Arthur's lips. He snatched up the hammer
+      from the table and flung himself upon the crucifix.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With the crash that followed he came suddenly to his senses, standing
+      before the empty pedestal, the hammer still in his hand, and the fragments
+      of the broken image scattered on the floor about his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw down the hammer. &ldquo;So easy!&rdquo; he said, and turned away. &ldquo;And what
+      an idiot I am!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down by the table, panting heavily for breath, and rested his
+      forehead on both hands. Presently he rose, and, going to the wash-stand,
+      poured a jugful of cold water over his head and face. He came back quite
+      composed, and sat down to think.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was for such things as these&mdash;for these false and slavish
+      people, these dumb and soulless gods&mdash;that he had suffered all these
+      tortures of shame and passion and despair; had made a rope to hang
+      himself, forsooth, because one priest was a liar. As if they were not all
+      liars! Well, all that was done with; he was wiser now. He need only shake
+      off these vermin and begin life afresh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There were plenty of goods vessels in the docks; it would be an easy
+      matter to stow himself away in one of them, and get across to Canada,
+      Australia, Cape Colony&mdash;anywhere. It was no matter for the country,
+      if only it was far enough; and, as for the life out there, he could see,
+      and if it did not suit him he could try some other place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took out his purse. Only thirty-three paoli; but his watch was a good
+      one. That would help him along a bit; and in any case it was of no
+      consequence&mdash;he should pull through somehow. But they would search
+      for him, all these people; they would be sure to make inquiries at the
+      docks. No; he must put them on a false scent&mdash;make them believe him
+      dead; then he should be quite free&mdash;quite free. He laughed softly to
+      himself at the thought of the Burtons searching for his corpse. What a
+      farce the whole thing was!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Taking a sheet of paper, he wrote the first words that occurred to him:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believed in you as I believed in God. God is a thing made of clay, that
+      I can smash with a hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He folded up the paper, directed it to Montanelli, and, taking another
+      sheet, wrote across it: &ldquo;Look for my body in Darsena.&rdquo; Then he put on his
+      hat and went out of the room. Passing his mother's portrait, he looked up
+      with a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders. She, too, had lied to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He crept softly along the corridor, and, slipping back the door-bolts,
+      went out on to the great, dark, echoing marble staircase. It seemed to
+      yawn beneath him like a black pit as he descended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He crossed the courtyard, treading cautiously for fear of waking Gian
+      Battista, who slept on the ground floor. In the wood-cellar at the back
+      was a little grated window, opening on the canal and not more than four
+      feet from the ground. He remembered that the rusty grating had broken away
+      on one side; by pushing a little he could make an aperture wide enough to
+      climb out by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The grating was strong, and he grazed his hands badly and tore the sleeve
+      of his coat; but that was no matter. He looked up and down the street;
+      there was no one in sight, and the canal lay black and silent, an ugly
+      trench between two straight and slimy walls. The untried universe might
+      prove a dismal hole, but it could hardly be more flat and sordid than the
+      corner which he was leaving behind him. There was nothing to regret;
+      nothing to look back upon. It had been a pestilent little stagnant world,
+      full of squalid lies and clumsy cheats and foul-smelling ditches that were
+      not even deep enough to drown a man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked along the canal bank, and came out upon the tiny square by the
+      Medici palace. It was here that Gemma had run up to him with her vivid
+      face, her outstretched hands. Here was the little flight of wet stone
+      steps leading down to the moat; and there the fortress scowling across the
+      strip of dirty water. He had never noticed before how squat and mean it
+      looked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Passing through the narrow streets he reached the Darsena shipping-basin,
+      where he took off his hat and flung it into the water. It would be found,
+      of course, when they dragged for his body. Then he walked on along the
+      water's edge, considering perplexedly what to do next. He must contrive to
+      hide on some ship; but it was a difficult thing to do. His only chance
+      would be to get on to the huge old Medici breakwater and walk along to the
+      further end of it. There was a low-class tavern on the point; probably he
+      should find some sailor there who could be bribed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the dock gates were closed. How should he get past them, and past the
+      customs officials? His stock of money would not furnish the high bribe
+      that they would demand for letting him through at night and without a
+      passport. Besides they might recognize him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he passed the bronze statue of the &ldquo;Four Moors,&rdquo; a man's figure emerged
+      from an old house on the opposite side of the shipping basin and
+      approached the bridge. Arthur slipped at once into the deep shadow behind
+      the group of statuary and crouched down in the darkness, peeping
+      cautiously round the corner of the pedestal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a soft spring night, warm and starlit. The water lapped against the
+      stone walls of the basin and swirled in gentle eddies round the steps with
+      a sound as of low laughter. Somewhere near a chain creaked, swinging
+      slowly to and fro. A huge iron crane towered up, tall and melancholy in
+      the dimness. Black on a shimmering expanse of starry sky and pearly
+      cloud-wreaths, the figures of the fettered, struggling slaves stood out in
+      vain and vehement protest against a merciless doom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The man approached unsteadily along the water side, shouting an English
+      street song. He was evidently a sailor returning from a carouse at some
+      tavern. No one else was within sight. As he drew near, Arthur stood up and
+      stepped into the middle of the roadway. The sailor broke off in his song
+      with an oath, and stopped short.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to speak to you,&rdquo; Arthur said in Italian. &ldquo;Do you understand me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man shook his head. &ldquo;It's no use talking that patter to me,&rdquo; he said;
+      then, plunging into bad French, asked sullenly: &ldquo;What do you want? Why
+      can't you let me pass?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just come out of the light here a minute; I want to speak to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! wouldn't you like it? Out of the light! Got a knife anywhere about
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, man! Can't you see I only want your help? I'll pay you for it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh? What? And dressed like a swell, too&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; The sailor
+      had relapsed into English. He now moved into the shadow and leaned against
+      the railing of the pedestal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, returning to his atrocious French; &ldquo;and what is it you
+      want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to get away from here&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aha! Stowaway! Want me to hide you? Been up to something, I suppose.
+      Stuck a knife into somebody, eh? Just like these foreigners! And where
+      might you be wanting to go? Not to the police station, I fancy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed in his tipsy way, and winked one eye.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What vessel do you belong to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Carlotta&mdash;Leghorn to Buenos Ayres; shipping oil one way and hides
+      the other. She's over there&rdquo;&mdash;pointing in the direction of the
+      breakwater&mdash;&ldquo;beastly old hulk!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Buenos Ayres&mdash;yes! Can you hide me anywhere on board?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much can you give?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not very much; I have only a few paoli.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Can't do it under fifty&mdash;and cheap at that, too&mdash;a swell
+      like you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by a swell? If you like my clothes you may change with
+      me, but I can't give you more money than I have got.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a watch there. Hand it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur took out a lady's gold watch, delicately chased and enamelled, with
+      the initials &ldquo;G. B.&rdquo; on the back. It had been his mother's&mdash;but what
+      did that matter now?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; remarked the sailor with a quick glance at it. &ldquo;Stolen, of course!
+      Let me look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur drew his hand away. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I will give you the watch when
+      we are on board; not before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're not such a fool as you look, after all! I'll bet it's your first
+      scrape, though, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is my business. Ah! there comes the watchman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They crouched down behind the group of statuary and waited till the
+      watchman had passed. Then the sailor rose, and, telling Arthur to follow
+      him, walked on, laughing foolishly to himself. Arthur followed in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sailor led him back to the little irregular square by the Medici
+      palace; and, stopping in a dark corner, mumbled in what was intended for a
+      cautious whisper:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait here; those soldier fellows will see you if you come further.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you going to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get you some clothes. I'm not going to take you on board with that bloody
+      coatsleeve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur glanced down at the sleeve which had been torn by the window
+      grating. A little blood from the grazed hand had fallen upon it. Evidently
+      the man thought him a murderer. Well, it was of no consequence what people
+      thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After some time the sailor came back, triumphant, with a bundle under his
+      arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Change,&rdquo; he whispered; &ldquo;and make haste about it. I must get back, and
+      that old Jew has kept me bargaining and haggling for half an hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur obeyed, shrinking with instinctive disgust at the first touch of
+      second-hand clothes. Fortunately these, though rough and coarse, were
+      fairly clean. When he stepped into the light in his new attire, the sailor
+      looked at him with tipsy solemnity and gravely nodded his approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll do,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;This way, and don't make a noise.&rdquo; Arthur, carrying
+      his discarded clothes, followed him through a labyrinth of winding canals
+      and dark narrow alleys; the mediaeval slum quarter which the people of
+      Leghorn call &ldquo;New Venice.&rdquo; Here and there a gloomy old palace, solitary
+      among the squalid houses and filthy courts, stood between two noisome
+      ditches, with a forlorn air of trying to preserve its ancient dignity and
+      yet of knowing the effort to be a hopeless one. Some of the alleys, he
+      knew, were notorious dens of thieves, cut-throats, and smugglers; others
+      were merely wretched and poverty-stricken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beside one of the little bridges the sailor stopped, and, looking round to
+      see that they were not observed, descended a flight of stone steps to a
+      narrow landing stage. Under the bridge was a dirty, crazy old boat.
+      Sharply ordering Arthur to jump in and lie down, he seated himself in the
+      boat and began rowing towards the harbour's mouth. Arthur lay still on the
+      wet and leaky planks, hidden by the clothes which the man had thrown over
+      him, and peeping out from under them at the familiar streets and houses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently they passed under a bridge and entered that part of the canal
+      which forms a moat for the fortress. The massive walls rose out of the
+      water, broad at the base and narrowing upward to the frowning turrets. How
+      strong, how threatening they had seemed to him a few hours ago! And now&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed softly as he lay in the bottom of the boat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold your noise,&rdquo; the sailor whispered, &ldquo;and keep your head covered!
+      We're close to the custom house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Arthur drew the clothes over his head. A few yards further on the boat
+      stopped before a row of masts chained together, which lay across the
+      surface of the canal, blocking the narrow waterway between the custom
+      house and the fortress wall. A sleepy official came out yawning and bent
+      over the water's edge with a lantern in his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Passports, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sailor handed up his official papers. Arthur, half stifled under the
+      clothes, held his breath, listening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A nice time of night to come back to your ship!&rdquo; grumbled the customs
+      official. &ldquo;Been out on the spree, I suppose. What's in your boat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Old clothes. Got them cheap.&rdquo; He held up the waistcoat for inspection.
+      The official, lowering his lantern, bent over, straining his eyes to see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's all right, I suppose. You can pass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lifted the barrier and the boat moved slowly out into the dark, heaving
+      water. At a little distance Arthur sat up and threw off the clothes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here she is,&rdquo; the sailor whispered, after rowing for some time in
+      silence. &ldquo;Keep close behind me and hold your tongue.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He clambered up the side of a huge black monster, swearing under his
+      breath at the clumsiness of the landsman, though Arthur's natural agility
+      rendered him less awkward than most people would have been in his place.
+      Once safely on board, they crept cautiously between dark masses of rigging
+      and machinery, and came at last to a hatchway, which the sailor softly
+      raised.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Down here!&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;I'll be back in a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hold was not only damp and dark, but intolerably foul. At first Arthur
+      instinctively drew back, half choked by the stench of raw hides and rancid
+      oil. Then he remembered the &ldquo;punishment cell,&rdquo; and descended the ladder,
+      shrugging his shoulders. Life is pretty much the same everywhere, it
+      seemed; ugly, putrid, infested with vermin, full of shameful secrets and
+      dark corners. Still, life is life, and he must make the best of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In a few minutes the sailor came back with something in his hands which
+      Arthur could not distinctly see for the darkness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, give me the watch and money. Make haste!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Taking advantage of the darkness, Arthur succeeded in keeping back a few
+      coins.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must get me something to eat,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I am half starved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've brought it. Here you are.&rdquo; The sailor handed him a pitcher, some
+      hard biscuit, and a piece of salt pork. &ldquo;Now mind, you must hide in this
+      empty barrel, here, when the customs officers come to examine to-morrow
+      morning. Keep as still as a mouse till we're right out at sea. I'll let
+      you know when to come out. And won't you just catch it when the captain
+      sees you&mdash;that's all! Got the drink safe? Good-night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hatchway closed, and Arthur, setting the precious &ldquo;drink&rdquo; in a safe
+      place, climbed on to an oil barrel to eat his pork and biscuit. Then he
+      curled himself up on the dirty floor; and, for the first time since his
+      babyhood, settled himself to sleep without a prayer. The rats scurried
+      round him in the darkness; but neither their persistent noise nor the
+      swaying of the ship, nor the nauseating stench of oil, nor the prospect of
+      to-morrow's sea-sickness, could keep him awake. He cared no more for them
+      all than for the broken and dishonoured idols that only yesterday had been
+      the gods of his adoration.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PART II.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THIRTEEN YEARS LATER. <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      ONE evening in July, 1846, a few acquaintances met at Professor Fabrizi's
+      house in Florence to discuss plans for future political work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Several of them belonged to the Mazzinian party and would have been
+      satisfied with nothing less than a democratic Republic and a United Italy.
+      Others were Constitutional Monarchists and Liberals of various shades. On
+      one point, however, they were all agreed; that of dissatisfaction with the
+      Tuscan censorship; and the popular professor had called the meeting in the
+      hope that, on this one subject at least, the representatives of the
+      dissentient parties would be able to get through an hour's discussion
+      without quarrelling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Only a fortnight had elapsed since the famous amnesty which Pius IX. had
+      granted, on his accession, to political offenders in the Papal States; but
+      the wave of liberal enthusiasm caused by it was already spreading over
+      Italy. In Tuscany even the government appeared to have been affected by
+      the astounding event. It had occurred to Fabrizi and a few other leading
+      Florentines that this was a propitious moment for a bold effort to reform
+      the press-laws.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; the dramatist Lega had said, when the subject was first
+      broached to him; &ldquo;it would be impossible to start a newspaper till we can
+      get the press-law changed; we should not bring out the first number. But
+      we may be able to run some pamphlets through the censorship already; and
+      the sooner we begin the sooner we shall get the law changed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was now explaining in Fabrizi's library his theory of the line which
+      should be taken by liberal writers at the moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no doubt,&rdquo; interposed one of the company, a gray-haired
+      barrister with a rather drawling manner of speech, &ldquo;that in some way we
+      must take advantage of the moment. We shall not see such a favourable one
+      again for bringing forward serious reforms. But I doubt the pamphlets
+      doing any good. They will only irritate and frighten the government
+      instead of winning it over to our side, which is what we really want to
+      do. If once the authorities begin to think of us as dangerous agitators
+      our chance of getting their help is gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what would you have us do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Petition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the Grand Duke?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; for an augmentation of the liberty of the press.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A keen-looking, dark man sitting by the window turned his head round with
+      a laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll get a lot out of petitioning!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I should have thought the
+      result of the Renzi case was enough to cure anybody of going to work that
+      way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear sir, I am as much grieved as you are that we did not succeed in
+      preventing the extradition of Renzi. But really&mdash;I do not wish to
+      hurt the sensibilities of anyone, but I cannot help thinking that our
+      failure in that case was largely due to the impatience and vehemence of
+      some persons among our number. I should certainly hesitate&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As every Piedmontese always does,&rdquo; the dark man interrupted sharply. &ldquo;I
+      don't know where the vehemence and impatience lay, unless you found them
+      in the strings of meek petitions we sent in. That may be vehemence for
+      Tuscany or Piedmont, but we should not call it particularly vehement in
+      Naples.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fortunately,&rdquo; remarked the Piedmontese, &ldquo;Neapolitan vehemence is peculiar
+      to Naples.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, there, gentlemen, that will do!&rdquo; the professor put in. &ldquo;Neapolitan
+      customs are very good things in their way and Piedmontese customs in
+      theirs; but just now we are in Tuscany, and the Tuscan custom is to stick
+      to the matter in hand. Grassini votes for petitions and Galli against
+      them. What do you think, Dr. Riccardo?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see no harm in petitions, and if Grassini gets one up I'll sign it with
+      all the pleasure in life. But I don't think mere petitioning and nothing
+      else will accomplish much. Why can't we have both petitions and
+      pamphlets?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Simply because the pamphlets will put the government into a state of mind
+      in which it won't grant the petitions,&rdquo; said Grassini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It won't do that anyhow.&rdquo; The Neapolitan rose and came across to the
+      table. &ldquo;Gentlemen, you're on the wrong tack. Conciliating the government
+      will do no good. What we must do is to rouse the people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's easier said than done; how are you going to start?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fancy asking Galli that! Of course he'd start by knocking the censor on
+      the head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed, I shouldn't,&rdquo; said Galli stoutly. &ldquo;You always think if a man
+      comes from down south he must believe in no argument but cold steel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what do you propose, then? Sh! Attention, gentlemen! Galli has a
+      proposal to make.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The whole company, which had broken up into little knots of twos and
+      threes, carrying on separate discussions, collected round the table to
+      listen. Galli raised his hands in expostulation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, gentlemen, it is not a proposal; it is merely a suggestion. It
+      appears to me that there is a great practical danger in all this rejoicing
+      over the new Pope. People seem to think that, because he has struck out a
+      new line and granted this amnesty, we have only to throw ourselves&mdash;all
+      of us, the whole of Italy&mdash;into his arms and he will carry us to the
+      promised land. Now, I am second to no one in admiration of the Pope's
+      behaviour; the amnesty was a splendid action.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure His Holiness ought to feel flattered&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Grassini
+      began contemptuously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, Grassini, do let the man speak!&rdquo; Riccardo interrupted in his turn.
+      &ldquo;It's a most extraordinary thing that you two never can keep from sparring
+      like a cat and dog. Get on, Galli!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I wanted to say is this,&rdquo; continued the Neapolitan. &ldquo;The Holy
+      Father, undoubtedly, is acting with the best intentions; but how far he
+      will succeed in carrying his reforms is another question. Just now it's
+      smooth enough and, of course, the reactionists all over Italy will lie
+      quiet for a month or two till the excitement about the amnesty blows over;
+      but they are not likely to let the power be taken out of their hands
+      without a fight, and my own belief is that before the winter is half over
+      we shall have Jesuits and Gregorians and Sanfedists and all the rest of
+      the crew about our ears, plotting and intriguing, and poisoning off
+      everybody they can't bribe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's likely enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then; shall we wait here, meekly sending in petitions, till
+      Lambruschini and his pack have persuaded the Grand Duke to put us bodily
+      under Jesuit rule, with perhaps a few Austrian hussars to patrol the
+      streets and keep us in order; or shall we forestall them and take
+      advantage of their momentary discomfiture to strike the first blow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell us first what blow you propose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would suggest that we start an organized propaganda and agitation
+      against the Jesuits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A pamphleteering declaration of war, in fact?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; exposing their intrigues, ferreting out their secrets, and calling
+      upon the people to make common cause against them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But there are no Jesuits here to expose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Aren't there? Wait three months and see how many we shall have. It'll be
+      too late to keep them out then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But really to rouse the town against the Jesuits one must speak plainly;
+      and if you do that how will you evade the censorship?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wouldn't evade it; I would defy it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would print the pamphlets anonymously? That's all very well, but the
+      fact is, we have all seen enough of the clandestine press to know&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not mean that. I would print the pamphlets openly, with our names
+      and addresses, and let them prosecute us if they dare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The project is a perfectly mad one,&rdquo; Grassini exclaimed. &ldquo;It is simply
+      putting one's head into the lion's mouth out of sheer wantonness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you needn't be afraid!&rdquo; Galli cut in sharply; &ldquo;we shouldn't ask you
+      to go to prison for our pamphlets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hold your tongue, Galli!&rdquo; said Riccardo. &ldquo;It's not a question of being
+      afraid; we're all as ready as you are to go to prison if there's any good
+      to be got by it, but it is childish to run into danger for nothing. For my
+      part, I have an amendment to the proposal to suggest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think we might contrive, with care, to fight the Jesuits without coming
+      into collision with the censorship.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see how you are going to manage it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that it is possible to clothe what one has to say in so
+      roundabout a form that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That the censorship won't understand it? And then you'll expect every
+      poor artisan and labourer to find out the meaning by the light of the
+      ignorance and stupidity that are in him! That doesn't sound very
+      practicable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Martini, what do you think?&rdquo; asked the professor, turning to a
+      broad-shouldered man with a great brown beard, who was sitting beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that I will reserve my opinion till I have more facts to go upon.
+      It's a question of trying experiments and seeing what comes of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you, Sacconi?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to hear what Signora Bolla has to say. Her suggestions are
+      always valuable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Everyone turned to the only woman in the room, who had been sitting on the
+      sofa, resting her chin on one hand and listening in silence to the
+      discussion. She had deep, serious black eyes, but as she raised them now
+      there was an unmistakable gleam of amusement in them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;that I disagree with everybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You always do, and the worst of it is that you are always right,&rdquo;
+       Riccardo put in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it is quite true that we must fight the Jesuits somehow; and if
+      we can't do it with one weapon we must with another. But mere defiance is
+      a feeble weapon and evasion a cumbersome one. As for petitioning, that is
+      a child's toy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope, signora,&rdquo; Grassini interposed, with a solemn face; &ldquo;that you are
+      not suggesting such methods as&mdash;assassination?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini tugged at his big moustache and Galli sniggered outright. Even the
+      grave young woman could not repress a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Believe me,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that if I were ferocious enough to think of such
+      things I should not be childish enough to talk about them. But the
+      deadliest weapon I know is ridicule. If you can once succeed in rendering
+      the Jesuits ludicrous, in making people laugh at them and their claims,
+      you have conquered them without bloodshed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe you are right, as far as that goes,&rdquo; Fabrizi said; &ldquo;but I don't
+      see how you are going to carry the thing through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why should we not be able to carry it through?&rdquo; asked Martini. &ldquo;A
+      satirical thing has a better chance of getting over the censorship
+      difficulty than a serious one; and, if it must be cloaked, the average
+      reader is more likely to find out the double meaning of an apparently
+      silly joke than of a scientific or economic treatise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then is your suggestion, signora, that we should issue satirical
+      pamphlets, or attempt to run a comic paper? That last, I am sure, the
+      censorship would never allow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mean exactly either. I believe a series of small satirical
+      leaflets, in verse or prose, to be sold cheap or distributed free about
+      the streets, would be very useful. If we could find a clever artist who
+      would enter into the spirit of the thing, we might have them illustrated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a capital idea, if only one could carry it out; but if the thing is
+      to be done at all it must be well done. We should want a first-class
+      satirist; and where are we to get him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; added Lega, &ldquo;most of us are serious writers; and, with all
+      respect to the company, I am afraid that a general attempt to be humorous
+      would present the spectacle of an elephant trying to dance the
+      tarantella.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never suggested that we should all rush into work for which we are
+      unfitted. My idea was that we should try to find a really gifted satirist&mdash;there
+      must be one to be got somewhere in Italy, surely&mdash;and offer to
+      provide the necessary funds. Of course we should have to know something of
+      the man and make sure that he would work on lines with which we could
+      agree.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But where are you going to find him? I can count up the satirists of any
+      real talent on the fingers of one hand; and none of them are available.
+      Giusti wouldn't accept; he is fully occupied as it is. There are one or
+      two good men in Lombardy, but they write only in the Milanese dialect&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And moreover,&rdquo; said Grassini, &ldquo;the Tuscan people can be influenced in
+      better ways than this. I am sure that it would be felt as, to say the
+      least, a want of political savoir faire if we were to treat this solemn
+      question of civil and religious liberty as a subject for trifling.
+      Florence is not a mere wilderness of factories and money-getting like
+      London, nor a haunt of idle luxury like Paris. It is a city with a great
+      history&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So was Athens,&rdquo; she interrupted, smiling; &ldquo;but it was 'rather sluggish
+      from its size and needed a gadfly to rouse it'&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Riccardo struck his hand upon the table. &ldquo;Why, we never thought of the
+      Gadfly! The very man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Gadfly&mdash;Felice Rivarez. Don't you remember him? One of
+      Muratori's band that came down from the Apennines three years ago?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you knew that set, didn't you? I remember your travelling with them
+      when they went on to Paris.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I went as far as Leghorn to see Rivarez off for Marseilles. He
+      wouldn't stop in Tuscany; he said there was nothing left to do but laugh,
+      once the insurrection had failed, and so he had better go to Paris. No
+      doubt he agreed with Signor Grassini that Tuscany is the wrong place to
+      laugh in. But I am nearly sure he would come back if we asked him, now
+      that there is a chance of doing something in Italy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What name did you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rivarez. He's a Brazilian, I think. At any rate, I know he has lived out
+      there. He is one of the wittiest men I ever came across. Heaven knows we
+      had nothing to be merry over, that week in Leghorn; it was enough to break
+      one's heart to look at poor Lambertini; but there was no keeping one's
+      countenance when Rivarez was in the room; it was one perpetual fire of
+      absurdities. He had a nasty sabre-cut across the face, too; I remember
+      sewing it up. He's an odd creature; but I believe he and his nonsense kept
+      some of those poor lads from breaking down altogether.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that the man who writes political skits in the French papers under the
+      name of 'Le Taon'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; short paragraphs mostly, and comic feuilletons. The smugglers up in
+      the Apennines called him 'the Gadfly' because of his tongue; and he took
+      the nickname to sign his work with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know something about this gentleman,&rdquo; said Grassini, breaking in upon
+      the conversation in his slow and stately manner; &ldquo;and I cannot say that
+      what I have heard is much to his credit. He undoubtedly possesses a
+      certain showy, superficial cleverness, though I think his abilities have
+      been exaggerated; and possibly he is not lacking in physical courage; but
+      his reputation in Paris and Vienna is, I believe, very far from spotless.
+      He appears to be a gentleman of&mdash;a&mdash;a&mdash;many adventures and
+      unknown antecedents. It is said that he was picked up out of charity by
+      Duprez's expedition somewhere in the wilds of tropical South America, in a
+      state of inconceivable savagery and degradation. I believe he has never
+      satisfactorily explained how he came to be in such a condition. As for the
+      rising in the Apennines, I fear it is no secret that persons of all
+      characters took part in that unfortunate affair. The men who were executed
+      in Bologna are known to have been nothing but common malefactors; and the
+      character of many who escaped will hardly bear description. Without doubt,
+      SOME of the participators were men of high character&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some of them were the intimate friends of several persons in this room!&rdquo;
+       Riccardo interrupted, with an angry ring in his voice. &ldquo;It's all very well
+      to be particular and exclusive, Grassini; but these 'common malefactors'
+      died for their belief, which is more than you or I have done as yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And another time when people tell you the stale gossip of Paris,&rdquo; added
+      Galli, &ldquo;you can tell them from me that they are mistaken about the Duprez
+      expedition. I know Duprez's adjutant, Martel, personally, and have heard
+      the whole story from him. It's true that they found Rivarez stranded out
+      there. He had been taken prisoner in the war, fighting for the Argentine
+      Republic, and had escaped. He was wandering about the country in various
+      disguises, trying to get back to Buenos Ayres. But the story of their
+      taking him on out of charity is a pure fabrication. Their interpreter had
+      fallen ill and been obliged to turn back; and not one of the Frenchmen
+      could speak the native languages; so they offered him the post, and he
+      spent the whole three years with them, exploring the tributaries of the
+      Amazon. Martel told me he believed they never would have got through the
+      expedition at all if it had not been for Rivarez.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whatever he may be,&rdquo; said Fabrizi; &ldquo;there must be something remarkable
+      about a man who could lay his 'come hither' on two old campaigners like
+      Martel and Duprez as he seems to have done. What do you think, signora?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing about the matter; I was in England when the fugitives
+      passed through Tuscany. But I should think that if the companions who were
+      with a man on a three years' expedition in savage countries, and the
+      comrades who were with him through an insurrection, think well of him,
+      that is recommendation enough to counterbalance a good deal of boulevard
+      gossip.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no question about the opinion his comrades had of him,&rdquo; said
+      Riccardo. &ldquo;From Muratori and Zambeccari down to the roughest mountaineers
+      they were all devoted to him. Moreover, he is a personal friend of Orsini.
+      It's quite true, on the other hand, that there are endless cock-and-bull
+      stories of a not very pleasant kind going about concerning him in Paris;
+      but if a man doesn't want to make enemies he shouldn't become a political
+      satirist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not quite sure,&rdquo; interposed Lega; &ldquo;but it seems to me that I saw him
+      once when the refugees were here. Was he not hunchbacked, or crooked, or
+      something of that kind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The professor had opened a drawer in his writing-table and was turning
+      over a heap of papers. &ldquo;I think I have his police description somewhere
+      here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You remember when they escaped and hid in the mountain
+      passes their personal appearance was posted up everywhere, and that
+      Cardinal&mdash;what's the scoundrel's name?&mdash;Spinola, offered a
+      reward for their heads.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was a splendid story about Rivarez and that police paper, by the
+      way. He put on a soldier's old uniform and tramped across country as a
+      carabineer wounded in the discharge of his duty and trying to find his
+      company. He actually got Spinola's search-party to give him a lift, and
+      rode the whole day in one of their waggons, telling them harrowing stories
+      of how he had been taken captive by the rebels and dragged off into their
+      haunts in the mountains, and of the fearful tortures that he had suffered
+      at their hands. They showed him the description paper, and he told them
+      all the rubbish he could think of about 'the fiend they call the Gadfly.'
+      Then at night, when they were asleep, he poured a bucketful of water into
+      their powder and decamped, with his pockets full of provisions and
+      ammunition&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, here's the paper,&rdquo; Fabrizi broke in: &ldquo;'Felice Rivarez, called: The
+      Gadfly. Age, about 30; birthplace and parentage, unknown, probably South
+      American; profession, journalist. Short; black hair; black beard; dark
+      skin; eyes, blue; forehead, broad and square; nose, mouth, chin&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;'
+      Yes, here it is: 'Special marks: right foot lame; left arm twisted; two
+      ringers missing on left hand; recent sabre-cut across face; stammers.'
+      Then there's a note put: 'Very expert shot; care should be taken in
+      arresting.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's an extraordinary thing that he can have managed to deceive the
+      search-party with such a formidable list of identification marks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was nothing but sheer audacity that carried him through, of course. If
+      it had once occurred to them to suspect him he would have been lost. But
+      the air of confiding innocence that he can put on when he chooses would
+      bring a man through anything. Well, gentlemen, what do you think of the
+      proposal? Rivarez seems to be pretty well known to several of the company.
+      Shall we suggest to him that we should be glad of his help here or not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Fabrizi, &ldquo;that he might be sounded upon the subject, just
+      to find out whether he would be inclined to think of the plan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he'll be inclined, you may be sure, once it's a case of fighting the
+      Jesuits; he is the most savage anti-clerical I ever met; in fact, he's
+      rather rabid on the point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then will you write, Riccardo?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly. Let me see, where is he now? In Switzerland, I think. He's the
+      most restless being; always flitting about. But as for the pamphlet
+      question&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They plunged into a long and animated discussion. When at last the company
+      began to disperse Martini went up to the quiet young woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will see you home, Gemma.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks; I want to have a business talk with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything wrong with the addresses?&rdquo; he asked softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing serious; but I think it is time to make a few alterations. Two
+      letters have been stopped in the post this week. They were both quite
+      unimportant, and it may have been accidental; but we cannot afford to have
+      any risks. If once the police have begun to suspect any of our addresses,
+      they must be changed immediately.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will come in about that to-morrow. I am not going to talk business with
+      you to-night; you look tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you are depressed again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no; not particularly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the mistress in, Katie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir; she is dressing. If you'll just step into the parlour she will
+      be down in a few minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Katie ushered the visitor in with the cheerful friendliness of a true
+      Devonshire girl. Martini was a special favourite of hers. He spoke
+      English, like a foreigner, of course, but still quite respectably; and he
+      never sat discussing politics at the top of his voice till one in the
+      morning, when the mistress was tired, as some visitors had a way of doing.
+      Moreover, he had come to Devonshire to help the mistress in her trouble,
+      when her baby was dead and her husband dying there; and ever since that
+      time the big, awkward, silent man had been to Katie as much &ldquo;one of the
+      family&rdquo; as was the lazy black cat which now ensconced itself upon his
+      knee. Pasht, for his part, regarded Martini as a useful piece of household
+      furniture. This visitor never trod upon his tail, or puffed tobacco smoke
+      into his eyes, or in any way obtruded upon his consciousness an aggressive
+      biped personality. He behaved as a mere man should: provided a comfortable
+      knee to lie upon and purr, and at table never forgot that to look on while
+      human beings eat fish is not interesting for a cat. The friendship between
+      them was of old date. Once, when Pasht was a kitten and his mistress too
+      ill to think about him, he had come from England under Martini's care,
+      tucked away in a basket. Since then, long experience had convinced him
+      that this clumsy human bear was no fair-weather friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How snug you look, you two!&rdquo; said Gemma, coming into the room. &ldquo;One would
+      think you had settled yourselves for the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini carefully lifted the cat off his knee. &ldquo;I came early,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;in the hope that you will give me some tea before we start. There will
+      probably be a frightful crush, and Grassini won't give us any sensible
+      supper&mdash;they never do in those fashionable houses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come now!&rdquo; she said, laughing; &ldquo;that's as bad as Galli! Poor Grassini has
+      quite enough sins of his own to answer for without having his wife's
+      imperfect housekeeping visited upon his head. As for the tea, it will be
+      ready in a minute. Katie has been making some Devonshire cakes specially
+      for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Katie is a good soul, isn't she, Pasht? By the way, so are you to have
+      put on that pretty dress. I was afraid you would forget.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promised you I would wear it, though it is rather warm for a hot
+      evening like this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be much cooler up at Fiesole; and nothing else ever suits you so
+      well as white cashmere. I have brought you some flowers to wear with it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, those lovely cluster roses; I am so fond of them! But they had much
+      better go into water. I hate to wear flowers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now that's one of your superstitious fancies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it isn't; only I think they must get so bored, spending all the
+      evening pinned to such a dull companion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid we shall all be bored to-night. The conversazione will be
+      dull beyond endurance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Partly because everything Grassini touches becomes as dull as himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now don't be spiteful. It is not fair when we are going to be a man's
+      guests.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are always right, Madonna. Well then, it will be dull because half
+      the interesting people are not coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. Out of town, or ill, or something. Anyway, there will be
+      two or three ambassadors and some learned Germans, and the usual
+      nondescript crowd of tourists and Russian princes and literary club
+      people, and a few French officers; nobody else that I know of&mdash;except,
+      of course, the new satirist, who is to be the attraction of the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The new satirist? What, Rivarez? But I thought Grassini disapproved of
+      him so strongly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but once the man is here and is sure to be talked about, of course
+      Grassini wants his house to be the first place where the new lion will be
+      on show. You may be sure Rivarez has heard nothing of Grassini's
+      disapproval. He may have guessed it, though; he's sharp enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not even know he had come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He only arrived yesterday. Here comes the tea. No, don't get up; let me
+      fetch the kettle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was never so happy as in this little study. Gemma's friendship, her
+      grave unconsciousness of the charm she exercised over him, her frank and
+      simple comradeship were the brightest things for him in a life that was
+      none too bright; and whenever he began to feel more than usually depressed
+      he would come in here after business hours and sit with her, generally in
+      silence, watching her as she bent over her needlework or poured out tea.
+      She never questioned him about his troubles or expressed any sympathy in
+      words; but he always went away stronger and calmer, feeling, as he put it
+      to himself, that he could &ldquo;trudge through another fortnight quite
+      respectably.&rdquo; She possessed, without knowing it, the rare gift of
+      consolation; and when, two years ago, his dearest friends had been
+      betrayed in Calabria and shot down like wolves, her steady faith had been
+      perhaps the thing which had saved him from despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Sunday mornings he sometimes came in to &ldquo;talk business,&rdquo; that
+      expression standing for anything connected with the practical work of the
+      Mazzinian party, of which they both were active and devoted members. She
+      was quite a different creature then; keen, cool, and logical, perfectly
+      accurate and perfectly neutral. Those who saw her only at her political
+      work regarded her as a trained and disciplined conspirator, trustworthy,
+      courageous, in every way a valuable member of the party, but somehow
+      lacking in life and individuality. &ldquo;She's a born conspirator, worth any
+      dozen of us; and she is nothing more,&rdquo; Galli had said of her. The &ldquo;Madonna
+      Gemma&rdquo; whom Martini knew was very difficult to get at.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, and what is your 'new satirist' like?&rdquo; she asked, glancing back
+      over her shoulder as she opened the sideboard. &ldquo;There, Cesare, there are
+      barley-sugar and candied angelica for you. I wonder, by the way, why
+      revolutionary men are always so fond of sweets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Other men are, too, only they think it beneath their dignity to confess
+      it. The new satirist? Oh, the kind of man that ordinary women will rave
+      over and you will dislike. A sort of professional dealer in sharp
+      speeches, that goes about the world with a lackadaisical manner and a
+      handsome ballet-girl dangling on to his coat-tails.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean that there is really a ballet-girl, or simply that you feel
+      cross and want to imitate the sharp speeches?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Lord defend me! No; the ballet-girl is real enough and handsome
+      enough, too, for those who like shrewish beauty. Personally, I don't.
+      She's a Hungarian gipsy, or something of that kind, so Riccardo says; from
+      some provincial theatre in Galicia. He seems to be rather a cool hand; he
+      has been introducing the girl to people just as if she were his maiden
+      aunt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that's only fair if he has taken her away from her home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may look at things that way, dear Madonna, but society won't. I think
+      most people will very much resent being introduced to a woman whom they
+      know to be his mistress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can they know it unless he tells them so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's plain enough; you'll see if you meet her. But I should think even he
+      would not have the audacity to bring her to the Grassinis'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They wouldn't receive her. Signora Grassini is not the woman to do
+      unconventional things of that kind. But I wanted to hear about Signor
+      Rivarez as a satirist, not as a man. Fabrizi told me he had been written
+      to and had consented to come and take up the campaign against the Jesuits;
+      and that is the last I have heard. There has been such a rush of work this
+      week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I can tell you much more. There doesn't seem to have
+      been any difficulty over the money question, as we feared there would be.
+      He's well off, it appears, and willing to work for nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he a private fortune, then?&rdquo; &ldquo;Apparently he has; though it seems
+      rather odd&mdash;you heard that night at Fabrizi's about the state the
+      Duprez expedition found him in. But he has got shares in mines somewhere
+      out in Brazil; and then he has been immensely successful as a feuilleton
+      writer in Paris and Vienna and London. He seems to have half a dozen
+      languages at his finger-tips; and there's nothing to prevent his keeping
+      up his newspaper connections from here. Slanging the Jesuits won't take
+      all his time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's true, of course. It's time to start, Cesare. Yes, I will wear the
+      roses. Wait just a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She ran upstairs, and came back with the roses in the bosom of her dress,
+      and a long scarf of black Spanish lace thrown over her head. Martini
+      surveyed her with artistic approval.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like the great and wise Queen of
+      Sheba.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an unkind speech!&rdquo; she retorted, laughing; &ldquo;when you know how hard
+      I've been trying to mould myself into the image of the typical society
+      lady! Who wants a conspirator to look like the Queen of Sheba? That's not
+      the way to keep clear of spies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You'll never be able to personate the stupid society woman if you try for
+      ever. But it doesn't matter, after all; you're too fair to look upon for
+      spies to guess your opinions, even though you can't simper and hide behind
+      your fan like Signora Grassini.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now Cesare, let that poor woman alone! There, take some more barley-sugar
+      to sweeten your temper. Are you ready? Then we had better start.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini had been quite right in saying that the conversazione would be
+      both crowded and dull. The literary men talked polite small-talk and
+      looked hopelessly bored, while the &ldquo;nondescript crowd of tourists and
+      Russian princes&rdquo; fluttered up and down the rooms, asking each other who
+      were the various celebrities and trying to carry on intellectual
+      conversation. Grassini was receiving his guests with a manner as carefully
+      polished as his boots; but his cold face lighted up at the sight of Gemma.
+      He did not really like her and indeed was secretly a little afraid of her;
+      but he realized that without her his drawing room would lack a great
+      attraction. He had risen high in his profession, and now that he was rich
+      and well known his chief ambition was to make of his house a centre of
+      liberal and intellectual society. He was painfully conscious that the
+      insignificant, overdressed little woman whom in his youth he had made the
+      mistake of marrying was not fit, with her vapid talk and faded prettiness,
+      to be the mistress of a great literary salon. When he could prevail upon
+      Gemma to come he always felt that the evening would be a success. Her
+      quiet graciousness of manner set the guests at their ease, and her very
+      presence seemed to lay the spectre of vulgarity which always, in his
+      imagination, haunted the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Signora Grassini greeted Gemma affectionately, exclaiming in a loud
+      whisper: &ldquo;How charming you look to-night!&rdquo; and examining the white
+      cashmere with viciously critical eyes. She hated her visitor rancourously,
+      for the very things for which Martini loved her; for her quiet strength of
+      character; for her grave, sincere directness; for the steady balance of
+      her mind; for the very expression of her face. And when Signora Grassini
+      hated a woman, she showed it by effusive tenderness. Gemma took the
+      compliments and endearments for what they were worth, and troubled her
+      head no more about them. What is called &ldquo;going into society&rdquo; was in her
+      eyes one of the wearisome and rather unpleasant tasks which a conspirator
+      who wishes not to attract the notice of spies must conscientiously fulfil.
+      She classed it together with the laborious work of writing in cipher; and,
+      knowing how valuable a practical safeguard against suspicion is the
+      reputation of being a well-dressed woman, studied the fashion-plates as
+      carefully as she did the keys of her ciphers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bored and melancholy literary lions brightened up a little at the
+      sound of Gemma's name; she was very popular among them; and the radical
+      journalists, especially, gravitated at once to her end of the long room.
+      But she was far too practised a conspirator to let them monopolize her.
+      Radicals could be had any day; and now, when they came crowding round her,
+      she gently sent them about their business, reminding them with a smile
+      that they need not waste their time on converting her when there were so
+      many tourists in need of instruction. For her part, she devoted herself to
+      an English M.P. whose sympathies the republican party was anxious to
+      gain; and, knowing him to be a specialist on finance, she first won his
+      attention by asking his opinion on a technical point concerning the
+      Austrian currency, and then deftly turned the conversation to the
+      condition of the Lombardo-Venetian revenue. The Englishman, who had
+      expected to be bored with small-talk, looked askance at her, evidently
+      fearing that he had fallen into the clutches of a blue-stocking; but
+      finding that she was both pleasant to look at and interesting to talk to,
+      surrendered completely and plunged into as grave a discussion of Italian
+      finance as if she had been Metternich. When Grassini brought up a
+      Frenchman &ldquo;who wishes to ask Signora Bolla something about the history of
+      Young Italy,&rdquo; the M. P. rose with a bewildered sense that perhaps there
+      was more ground for Italian discontent than he had supposed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Later in the evening Gemma slipped out on to the terrace under the
+      drawing-room windows to sit alone for a few moments among the great
+      camellias and oleanders. The close air and continually shifting crowd in
+      the rooms were beginning to give her a headache. At the further end of the
+      terrace stood a row of palms and tree-ferns, planted in large tubs which
+      were hidden by a bank of lilies and other flowering plants. The whole
+      formed a complete screen, behind which was a little nook commanding a
+      beautiful view out across the valley. The branches of a pomegranate tree,
+      clustered with late blossoms, hung beside the narrow opening between the
+      plants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this nook Gemma took refuge, hoping that no one would guess her
+      whereabouts until she had secured herself against the threatening headache
+      by a little rest and silence. The night was warm and beautifully still;
+      but coming out from the hot, close rooms she felt it cool, and drew her
+      lace scarf about her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the sounds of voices and footsteps approaching along the terrace
+      roused her from the dreamy state into which she had fallen. She drew back
+      into the shadow, hoping to escape notice and get a few more precious
+      minutes of silence before again having to rack her tired brain for
+      conversation. To her great annoyance the footsteps paused near to the
+      screen; then Signora Grassini's thin, piping little voice broke off for a
+      moment in its stream of chatter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other voice, a man's, was remarkably soft and musical; but its
+      sweetness of tone was marred by a peculiar, purring drawl, perhaps mere
+      affectation, more probably the result of a habitual effort to conquer some
+      impediment of speech, but in any case very unpleasant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;English, did you say?&rdquo; it asked. &ldquo;But surely the name is quite Italian.
+      What was it&mdash;Bolla?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; she is the widow of poor Giovanni Bolla, who died in England about
+      four years ago,&mdash;don't you remember? Ah, I forgot&mdash;you lead such
+      a wandering life; we can't expect you to know of all our unhappy country's
+      martyrs&mdash;they are so many!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Signora Grassini sighed. She always talked in this style to strangers; the
+      role of a patriotic mourner for the sorrows of Italy formed an effective
+      combination with her boarding-school manner and pretty infantine pout.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Died in England!&rdquo; repeated the other voice. &ldquo;Was he a refugee, then? I
+      seem to recognize the name, somehow; was he not connected with Young Italy
+      in its early days?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; he was one of the unfortunate young men who were arrested in '33&mdash;you
+      remember that sad affair? He was released in a few months; then, two or
+      three years later, when there was a warrant out against him again, he
+      escaped to England. The next we heard was that he was married there. It
+      was a most romantic affair altogether, but poor Bolla always was
+      romantic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then he died in England, you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of consumption; he could not stand that terrible English climate.
+      And she lost her only child just before his death; it caught scarlet
+      fever. Very sad, is it not? And we are all so fond of dear Gemma! She is a
+      little stiff, poor thing; the English always are, you know; but I think
+      her troubles have made her melancholy, and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma stood up and pushed back the boughs of the pomegranate tree. This
+      retailing of her private sorrows for purposes of small-talk was almost
+      unbearable to her, and there was visible annoyance in her face as she
+      stepped into the light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! here she is!&rdquo; exclaimed the hostess, with admirable coolness. &ldquo;Gemma,
+      dear, I was wondering where you could have disappeared to. Signor Felice
+      Rivarez wishes to make your acquaintance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it's the Gadfly,&rdquo; thought Gemma, looking at him with some curiosity.
+      He bowed to her decorously enough, but his eyes glanced over her face and
+      figure with a look which seemed to her insolently keen and inquisitorial.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have found a d-d-delightful little nook here,&rdquo; he remarked, looking
+      at the thick screen; &ldquo;and w-w-what a charming view!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; it's a pretty corner. I came out here to get some air.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems almost ungrateful to the good God to stay indoors on such a
+      lovely night,&rdquo; said the hostess, raising her eyes to the stars. (She had
+      good eyelashes and liked to show them.) &ldquo;Look, signore! Would not our
+      sweet Italy be heaven on earth if only she were free? To think that she
+      should be a bond-slave, with such flowers and such skies!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And such patriotic women!&rdquo; the Gadfly murmured in his soft, languid
+      drawl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma glanced round at him in some trepidation; his impudence was too
+      glaring, surely, to deceive anyone. But she had underrated Signora
+      Grassini's appetite for compliments; the poor woman cast down her lashes
+      with a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, signore, it is so little that a woman can do! Perhaps some day I may
+      prove my right to the name of an Italian&mdash;who knows? And now I must
+      go back to my social duties; the French ambassador has begged me to
+      introduce his ward to all the notabilities; you must come in presently and
+      see her. She is a most charming girl. Gemma, dear, I brought Signor
+      Rivarez out to show him our beautiful view; I must leave him under your
+      care. I know you will look after him and introduce him to everyone. Ah!
+      there is that delightful Russian prince! Have you met him? They say he is
+      a great favourite of the Emperor Nicholas. He is military commander of
+      some Polish town with a name that nobody can pronounce. Quelle nuit
+      magnifique! N'est-ce-pas, mon prince?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She fluttered away, chattering volubly to a bull-necked man with a heavy
+      jaw and a coat glittering with orders; and her plaintive dirges for &ldquo;notre
+      malheureuse patrie,&rdquo; interpolated with &ldquo;charmant&rdquo; and &ldquo;mon prince,&rdquo; died
+      away along the terrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma stood quite still beside the pomegranate tree. She was sorry for the
+      poor, silly little woman, and annoyed at the Gadfly's languid insolence.
+      He was watching the retreating figures with an expression of face that
+      angered her; it seemed ungenerous to mock at such pitiable creatures.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There go Italian and&mdash;Russian patriotism,&rdquo; he said, turning to her
+      with a smile; &ldquo;arm in arm and mightily pleased with each other's company.
+      Which do you prefer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She frowned slightly and made no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of c-course,&rdquo; he went on; &ldquo;it's all a question of p-personal taste; but I
+      think, of the two, I like the Russian variety best&mdash;it's so thorough.
+      If Russia had to depend on flowers and skies for her supremacy instead of
+      on powder and shot, how long do you think 'mon prince' would k-keep that
+      Polish fortress?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; she answered coldly, &ldquo;that we can hold our personal opinions
+      without ridiculing a woman whose guests we are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes! I f-forgot the obligations of hospitality here in Italy; they
+      are a wonderfully hospitable people, these Italians. I'm sure the
+      Austrians find them so. Won't you sit down?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He limped across the terrace to fetch a chair for her, and placed himself
+      opposite to her, leaning against the balustrade. The light from a window
+      was shining full on his face; and she was able to study it at her leisure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She was disappointed. She had expected to see a striking and powerful, if
+      not pleasant face; but the most salient points of his appearance were a
+      tendency to foppishness in dress and rather more than a tendency to a
+      certain veiled insolence of expression and manner. For the rest, he was as
+      swarthy as a mulatto, and, notwithstanding his lameness, as agile as a
+      cat. His whole personality was oddly suggestive of a black jaguar. The
+      forehead and left cheek were terribly disfigured by the long crooked scar
+      of the old sabre-cut; and she had already noticed that, when he began to
+      stammer in speaking, that side of his face was affected with a nervous
+      twitch. But for these defects he would have been, in a certain restless
+      and uncomfortable way, rather handsome; but it was not an attractive face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he began again in his soft, murmuring purr (&ldquo;Just the voice a
+      jaguar would talk in, if it could speak and were in a good humour,&rdquo; Gemma
+      said to herself with rising irritation).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hear,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that you are interested in the radical press, and
+      write for the papers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I write a little; I have not time to do much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, of course! I understood from Signora Grassini that you undertake
+      other important work as well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma raised her eyebrows slightly. Signora Grassini, like the silly
+      little woman she was, had evidently been chattering imprudently to this
+      slippery creature, whom Gemma, for her part, was beginning actually to
+      dislike.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My time is a good deal taken up,&rdquo; she said rather stiffly; &ldquo;but Signora
+      Grassini overrates the importance of my occupations. They are mostly of a
+      very trivial character.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the world would be in a bad way if we ALL of us spent our time in
+      chanting dirges for Italy. I should think the neighbourhood of our host of
+      this evening and his wife would make anybody frivolous, in self-defence.
+      Oh, yes, I know what you're going to say; you are perfectly right, but
+      they are both so deliciously funny with their patriotism.&mdash;Are you
+      going in already? It is so nice out here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I will go in now. Is that my scarf? Thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had picked it up, and now stood looking at her with wide eyes as blue
+      and innocent as forget-me-nots in a brook.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you are offended with me,&rdquo; he said penitently, &ldquo;for fooling that
+      painted-up wax doll; but what can a fellow do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since you ask me, I do think it an ungenerous and&mdash;well&mdash;cowardly
+      thing to hold one's intellectual inferiors up to ridicule in that way; it
+      is like laughing at a cripple, or&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He caught his breath suddenly, painfully; and shrank back, glancing at his
+      lame foot and mutilated hand. In another instant he recovered his
+      self-possession and burst out laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's hardly a fair comparison, signora; we cripples don't flaunt our
+      deformities in people's faces as she does her stupidity. At least give us
+      credit for recognizing that crooked backs are no pleasanter than crooked
+      ways. There is a step here; will you take my arm?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She re-entered the house in embarrassed silence; his unexpected
+      sensitiveness had completely disconcerted her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Directly he opened the door of the great reception room she realized that
+      something unusual had happened in her absence. Most of the gentlemen
+      looked both angry and uncomfortable; the ladies, with hot cheeks and
+      carefully feigned unconsciousness, were all collected at one end of the
+      room; the host was fingering his eye-glasses with suppressed but
+      unmistakable fury, and a little group of tourists stood in a corner
+      casting amused glances at the further end of the room. Evidently something
+      was going on there which appeared to them in the light of a joke, and to
+      most of the guests in that of an insult. Signora Grassini alone did not
+      appear to have noticed anything; she was fluttering her fan coquettishly
+      and chattering to the secretary of the Dutch embassy, who listened with a
+      broad grin on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma paused an instant in the doorway, turning to see if the Gadfly, too,
+      had noticed the disturbed appearance of the company. There was no
+      mistaking the malicious triumph in his eyes as he glanced from the face of
+      the blissfully unconscious hostess to a sofa at the end of the room. She
+      understood at once; he had brought his mistress here under some false
+      colour, which had deceived no one but Signora Grassini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gipsy-girl was leaning back on the sofa, surrounded by a group of
+      simpering dandies and blandly ironical cavalry officers. She was
+      gorgeously dressed in amber and scarlet, with an Oriental brilliancy of
+      tint and profusion of ornament as startling in a Florentine literary salon
+      as if she had been some tropical bird among sparrows and starlings. She
+      herself seemed to feel out of place, and looked at the offended ladies
+      with a fiercely contemptuous scowl. Catching sight of the Gadfly as he
+      crossed the room with Gemma, she sprang up and came towards him, with a
+      voluble flood of painfully incorrect French.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M. Rivarez, I have been looking for you everywhere! Count Saltykov wants
+      to know whether you can go to his villa to-morrow night. There will be
+      dancing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry I can't go; but then I couldn't dance if I did. Signora Bolla,
+      allow me to introduce to you Mme. Zita Reni.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gipsy glanced round at Gemma with a half defiant air and bowed
+      stiffly. She was certainly handsome enough, as Martini had said, with a
+      vivid, animal, unintelligent beauty; and the perfect harmony and freedom
+      of her movements were delightful to see; but her forehead was low and
+      narrow, and the line of her delicate nostrils was unsympathetic, almost
+      cruel. The sense of oppression which Gemma had felt in the Gadfly's
+      society was intensified by the gypsy's presence; and when, a moment later,
+      the host came up to beg Signora Bolla to help him entertain some tourists
+      in the other room, she consented with an odd feeling of relief.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Madonna, and what do you think of the Gadfly?&rdquo; Martini asked as
+      they drove back to Florence late at night. &ldquo;Did you ever see anything
+      quite so shameless as the way he fooled that poor little Grassini woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About the ballet-girl, you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he persuaded her the girl was going to be the lion of the season.
+      Signora Grassini would do anything for a celebrity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought it an unfair and unkind thing to do; it put the Grassinis into
+      a false position; and it was nothing less than cruel to the girl herself.
+      I am sure she felt ill at ease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had a talk with him, didn't you? What did you think of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Cesare, I didn't think anything except how glad I was to see the last
+      of him. I never met anyone so fearfully tiring. He gave me a headache in
+      ten minutes. He is like an incarnate demon of unrest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you wouldn't like him; and, to tell the truth, no more do I.
+      The man's as slippery as an eel; I don't trust him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE Gadfly took lodgings outside the Roman gate, near to which Zita was
+      boarding. He was evidently somewhat of a sybarite; and, though nothing in
+      the rooms showed any serious extravagance, there was a tendency to
+      luxuriousness in trifles and to a certain fastidious daintiness in the
+      arrangement of everything which surprised Galli and Riccardo. They had
+      expected to find a man who had lived among the wildernesses of the Amazon
+      more simple in his tastes, and wondered at his spotless ties and rows of
+      boots, and at the masses of flowers which always stood upon his writing
+      table. On the whole they got on very well with him. He was hospitable and
+      friendly to everyone, especially to the local members of the Mazzinian
+      party. To this rule Gemma, apparently, formed an exception; he seemed to
+      have taken a dislike to her from the time of their first meeting, and in
+      every way avoided her company. On two or three occasions he was actually
+      rude to her, thus bringing upon himself Martini's most cordial
+      detestation. There had been no love lost between the two men from the
+      beginning; their temperaments appeared to be too incompatible for them to
+      feel anything but repugnance for each other. On Martini's part this was
+      fast developing into hostility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't care about his not liking me,&rdquo; he said one day to Gemma with an
+      aggrieved air. &ldquo;I don't like him, for that matter; so there's no harm
+      done. But I can't stand the way he behaves to you. If it weren't for the
+      scandal it would make in the party first to beg a man to come and then to
+      quarrel with him, I should call him to account for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let him alone, Cesare; it isn't of any consequence, and after all, it's
+      as much my fault as his.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is your fault?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That he dislikes me so. I said a brutal thing to him when we first met,
+      that night at the Grassinis'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOU said a brutal thing? That's hard to believe, Madonna.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was unintentional, of course, and I was very sorry. I said something
+      about people laughing at cripples, and he took it personally. It had never
+      occurred to me to think of him as a cripple; he is not so badly deformed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not. He has one shoulder higher than the other, and his left
+      arm is pretty badly disabled, but he's neither hunchbacked nor clubfooted.
+      As for his lameness, it isn't worth talking about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anyway, he shivered all over and changed colour. Of course it was
+      horribly tactless of me, but it's odd he should be so sensitive. I wonder
+      if he has ever suffered from any cruel jokes of that kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much more likely to have perpetrated them, I should think. There's a sort
+      of internal brutality about that man, under all his fine manners, that is
+      perfectly sickening to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Cesare, that's downright unfair. I don't like him any more than you
+      do, but what is the use of making him out worse than he is? His manner is
+      a little affected and irritating&mdash;I expect he has been too much
+      lionized&mdash;and the everlasting smart speeches are dreadfully tiring;
+      but I don't believe he means any harm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what he means, but there's something not clean about a man
+      who sneers at everything. It fairly disgusted me the other day at
+      Fabrizi's debate to hear the way he cried down the reforms in Rome, just
+      as if he wanted to find a foul motive for everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma sighed. &ldquo;I am afraid I agreed better with him than with you on that
+      point,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;All you good people are so full of the most delightful
+      hopes and expectations; you are always ready to think that if one
+      well-meaning middle-aged gentleman happens to get elected Pope, everything
+      else will come right of itself. He has only got to throw open the prison
+      doors and give his blessing to everybody all round, and we may expect the
+      millennium within three months. You never seem able to see that he can't
+      set things right even if he would. It's the principle of the thing that's
+      wrong, not the behaviour of this man or that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What principle? The temporal power of the Pope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why that in particular? That's merely a part of the general wrong. The
+      bad principle is that any man should hold over another the power to bind
+      and loose. It's a false relationship to stand in towards one's fellows.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini held up his hands. &ldquo;That will do, Madonna,&rdquo; he said, laughing. &ldquo;I
+      am not going to discuss with you, once you begin talking rank
+      Antinomianism in that fashion. I'm sure your ancestors must have been
+      English Levellers in the seventeenth century. Besides, what I came round
+      about is this MS.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pulled it out of his pocket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another new pamphlet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A stupid thing this wretched man Rivarez sent in to yesterday's
+      committee. I knew we should come to loggerheads with him before long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter with it? Honestly, Cesare, I think you are a little
+      prejudiced. Rivarez may be unpleasant, but he's not stupid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't deny that this is clever enough in its way; but you had
+      better read the thing yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The pamphlet was a skit on the wild enthusiasm over the new Pope with
+      which Italy was still ringing. Like all the Gadfly's writing, it was
+      bitter and vindictive; but, notwithstanding her irritation at the style,
+      Gemma could not help recognizing in her heart the justice of the
+      criticism.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I quite agree with you that it is detestably malicious,&rdquo; she said, laying
+      down the manuscript. &ldquo;But the worst thing about it is that it's all true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but it is. The man's a cold-blooded eel, if you like; but he's got
+      the truth on his side. There is no use in our trying to persuade ourselves
+      that this doesn't hit the mark&mdash;it does!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do you suggest that we should print it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! that's quite another matter. I certainly don't think we ought to
+      print it as it stands; it would hurt and alienate everybody and do no
+      good. But if he would rewrite it and cut out the personal attacks, I think
+      it might be made into a really valuable piece of work. As political
+      criticism it is very fine. I had no idea he could write so well. He says
+      things which need saying and which none of us have had the courage to say.
+      This passage, where he compares Italy to a tipsy man weeping with
+      tenderness on the neck of the thief who is picking his pocket, is
+      splendidly written.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma! The very worst bit in the whole thing! I hate that ill-natured
+      yelping at everything and everybody!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I; but that's not the point. Rivarez has a very disagreeable style,
+      and as a human being he is not attractive; but when he says that we have
+      made ourselves drunk with processions and embracing and shouting about
+      love and reconciliation, and that the Jesuits and Sanfedists are the
+      people who will profit by it all, he's right a thousand times. I wish I
+      could have been at the committee yesterday. What decision did you finally
+      arrive at?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I have come here about: to ask you to go and talk it over with him
+      and persuade him to soften the thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Me? But I hardly know the man; and besides that, he detests me. Why
+      should I go, of all people?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Simply because there's no one else to do it to-day. Besides, you are more
+      reasonable than the rest of us, and won't get into useless arguments and
+      quarrel with him, as we should.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shan't do that, certainly. Well, I will go if you like, though I have
+      not much hope of success.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure you will be able to manage him if you try. Yes, and tell him
+      that the committee all admired the thing from a literary point of view.
+      That will put him into a good humour, and it's perfectly true, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly was sitting beside a table covered with flowers and ferns,
+      staring absently at the floor, with an open letter on his knee. A shaggy
+      collie dog, lying on a rug at his feet, raised its head and growled as
+      Gemma knocked at the open door, and the Gadfly rose hastily and bowed in a
+      stiff, ceremonious way. His face had suddenly grown hard and
+      expressionless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are too kind,&rdquo; he said in his most chilling manner. &ldquo;If you had let
+      me know that you wanted to speak to me I would have called on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Seeing that he evidently wished her at the end of the earth, Gemma
+      hastened to state her business. He bowed again and placed a chair for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The committee wished me to call upon you,&rdquo; she began, &ldquo;because there has
+      been a certain difference of opinion about your pamphlet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I expected.&rdquo; He smiled and sat down opposite to her, drawing a large
+      vase of chrysanthemums between his face and the light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most of the members agreed that, however much they may admire the
+      pamphlet as a literary composition, they do not think that in its present
+      form it is quite suitable for publication. They fear that the vehemence of
+      its tone may give offence, and alienate persons whose help and support are
+      valuable to the party.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pulled a chrysanthemum from the vase and began slowly plucking off one
+      white petal after another. As her eyes happened to catch the movement of
+      the slim right hand dropping the petals, one by one, an uncomfortable
+      sensation came over Gemma, as though she had somewhere seen that gesture
+      before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As a literary composition,&rdquo; he remarked in his soft, cold voice, &ldquo;it is
+      utterly worthless, and could be admired only by persons who know nothing
+      about literature. As for its giving offence, that is the very thing I
+      intended it to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I quite understand. The question is whether you may not succeed in
+      giving offence to the wrong people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shrugged his shoulders and put a torn-off petal between his teeth. &ldquo;I
+      think you are mistaken,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The question is: For what purpose did
+      your committee invite me to come here? I understood, to expose and
+      ridicule the Jesuits. I fulfil my obligation to the best of my ability.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I can assure you that no one has any doubt as to either the ability
+      or the good-will. What the committee fears is that the liberal party may
+      take offence, and also that the town workmen may withdraw their moral
+      support. You may have meant the pamphlet for an attack upon the
+      Sanfedists: but many readers will construe it as an attack upon the Church
+      and the new Pope; and this, as a matter of political tactics, the
+      committee does not consider desirable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I begin to understand. So long as I keep to the particular set of
+      clerical gentlemen with whom the party is just now on bad terms, I may
+      speak sooth if the fancy takes me; but directly I touch upon the
+      committee's own pet priests&mdash;'truth's a dog must to kennel; he must
+      be whipped out, when the&mdash;Holy Father may stand by the fire and&mdash;&mdash;-'
+      Yes, the fool was right; I'd rather be any kind of a thing than a fool. Of
+      course I must bow to the committee's decision, but I continue to think
+      that it has pared its wit o' both sides and left&mdash;M-mon-signor
+      M-m-montan-n-nelli in the middle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Montanelli?&rdquo; Gemma repeated. &ldquo;I don't understand you. Do you mean the
+      Bishop of Brisighella?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; the new Pope has just created him a Cardinal, you know. I have a
+      letter about him here. Would you care to hear it? The writer is a friend
+      of mine on the other side of the frontier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Papal frontier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. This is what he writes&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He took up the letter which
+      had been in his hand when she entered, and read aloud, suddenly beginning
+      to stammer violently:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Y-o-you will s-s-s-soon have the p-pleasure of m-m-meeting one of our
+      w-w-worst enemies, C-cardinal Lorenzo M-montan-n-nelli, the B-b-bishop of
+      Brisig-g-hella. He int-t&mdash;&mdash;'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off, paused a moment, and began again, very slowly and drawling
+      insufferably, but no longer stammering:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'He intends to visit Tuscany during the coming month on a mission of
+      reconciliation. He will preach first in Florence, where he will stay for
+      about three weeks; then will go on to Siena and Pisa, and return to the
+      Romagna by Pistoja. He ostensibly belongs to the liberal party in the
+      Church, and is a personal friend of the Pope and Cardinal Feretti. Under
+      Gregory he was out of favour, and was kept out of sight in a little hole
+      in the Apennines. Now he has come suddenly to the front. Really, of
+      course, he is as much pulled by Jesuit wires as any Sanfedist in the
+      country. This mission was suggested by some of the Jesuit fathers. He is
+      one of the most brilliant preachers in the Church, and as mischievous in
+      his way as Lambruschini himself. His business is to keep the popular
+      enthusiasm over the Pope from subsiding, and to occupy the public
+      attention until the Grand Duke has signed a project which the agents of
+      the Jesuits are preparing to lay before him. What this project is I have
+      been unable to discover.' Then, further on, it says: 'Whether Montanelli
+      understands for what purpose he is being sent to Tuscany, or whether the
+      Jesuits are playing on him, I cannot make out. He is either an uncommonly
+      clever knave, or the biggest ass that was ever foaled. The odd thing is
+      that, so far as I can discover, he neither takes bribes nor keeps
+      mistresses&mdash;the first time I ever came across such a thing.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laid down the letter and sat looking at her with half-shut eyes,
+      waiting, apparently, for her to speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you satisfied that your informant is correct in his facts?&rdquo; she asked
+      after a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As to the irreproachable character of Monsignor M-mon-t-tan-nelli's
+      private life? No; but neither is he. As you will observe, he puts in the
+      s-s-saving clause: 'So far as I c-can discover&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not speaking of that,&rdquo; she interposed coldly, &ldquo;but of the part
+      about this mission.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can fully trust the writer. He is an old friend of mine&mdash;one of my
+      comrades of '43, and he is in a position which gives him exceptional
+      opportunities for finding out things of that kind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some official at the Vatican,&rdquo; thought Gemma quickly. &ldquo;So that's the kind
+      of connections you have? I guessed there was something of that sort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This letter is, of course, a private one,&rdquo; the Gadfly went on; &ldquo;and you
+      understand that the information is to be kept strictly to the members of
+      your committee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That hardly needs saying. Then about the pamphlet: may I tell the
+      committee that you consent to make a few alterations and soften it a
+      little, or that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think the alterations may succeed in spoiling the beauty of the
+      'literary composition,' signora, as well as in reducing the vehemence of
+      the tone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are asking my personal opinion. What I have come here to express is
+      that of the committee as a whole.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does that imply that y-y-you disagree with the committee as a whole?&rdquo; He
+      had put the letter into his pocket and was now leaning forward and looking
+      at her with an eager, concentrated expression which quite changed the
+      character of his face. &ldquo;You think&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you care to know what I personally think&mdash;I disagree with the
+      majority on both points. I do not at all admire the pamphlet from a
+      literary point of view, and I do think it true as a presentation of facts
+      and wise as a matter of tactics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I quite agree with you that Italy is being led away by a will-o'-the-wisp
+      and that all this enthusiasm and rejoicing will probably land her in a
+      terrible bog; and I should be most heartily glad to have that openly and
+      boldly said, even at the cost of offending or alienating some of our
+      present supporters. But as a member of a body the large majority of which
+      holds the opposite view, I cannot insist upon my personal opinion; and I
+      certainly think that if things of that kind are to be said at all, they
+      should be said temperately and quietly; not in the tone adopted in this
+      pamphlet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you wait a minute while I look through the manuscript?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took it up and glanced down the pages. A dissatisfied frown settled on
+      his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course, you are perfectly right. The thing's written like a cafe
+      chantant skit, not a political satire. But what's a man to do? If I write
+      decently the public won't understand it; they will say it's dull if it
+      isn't spiteful enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think spitefulness manages to be dull when we get too much of
+      it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw a keen, rapid glance at her, and burst out laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apparently the signora belongs to the dreadful category of people who are
+      always right! Then if I yield to the temptation to be spiteful, I may come
+      in time to be as dull as Signora Grassini? Heavens, what a fate! No, you
+      needn't frown. I know you don't like me, and I am going to keep to
+      business. What it comes to, then, is practically this: if I cut out the
+      personalities and leave the essential part of the thing as it is, the
+      committee will very much regret that they can't take the responsibility of
+      printing it. If I cut out the political truth and make all the hard names
+      apply to no one but the party's enemies, the committee will praise the
+      thing up to the skies, and you and I will know it's not worth printing.
+      Rather a nice point of metaphysics: Which is the more desirable condition,
+      to be printed and not be worth it, or to be worth it and not be printed?
+      Well, signora?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not think you are tied to any such alternative. I believe that if
+      you were to cut out the personalities the committee would consent to print
+      the pamphlet, though the majority would, of course, not agree with it; and
+      I am convinced that it would be very useful. But you would have to lay
+      aside the spitefulness. If you are going to say a thing the substance of
+      which is a big pill for your readers to swallow, there is no use in
+      frightening them at the beginning by the form.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sighed and shrugged his shoulders resignedly. &ldquo;I submit, signora; but
+      on one condition. If you rob me of my laugh now, I must have it out next
+      time. When His Eminence, the irreproachable Cardinal, turns up in
+      Florence, neither you nor your committee must object to my being as
+      spiteful as I like. It's my due!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke in his lightest, coldest manner, pulling the chrysanthemums out
+      of their vase and holding them up to watch the light through the
+      translucent petals. &ldquo;What an unsteady hand he has,&rdquo; she thought, seeing
+      how the flowers shook and quivered. &ldquo;Surely he doesn't drink!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better discuss the matter with the other members of the
+      committee,&rdquo; she said, rising. &ldquo;I cannot form any opinion as to what they
+      will think about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you?&rdquo; He had risen too, and was leaning against the table, pressing
+      the flowers to his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated. The question distressed her, bringing up old and miserable
+      associations. &ldquo;I&mdash;hardly know,&rdquo; she said at last. &ldquo;Many years ago I
+      used to know something about Monsignor Montanelli. He was only a canon at
+      that time, and Director of the theological seminary in the province where
+      I lived as a girl. I heard a great deal about him from&mdash;someone who
+      knew him very intimately; and I never heard anything of him that was not
+      good. I believe that, in those days at least, he was really a most
+      remarkable man. But that was long ago, and he may have changed.
+      Irresponsible power corrupts so many people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly raised his head from the flowers, and looked at her with a
+      steady face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At any rate,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if Monsignor Montanelli is not himself a
+      scoundrel, he is a tool in scoundrelly hands. It is all one to me which he
+      is&mdash;and to my friends across the frontier. A stone in the path may
+      have the best intentions, but it must be kicked out of the path, for all
+      that. Allow me, signora!&rdquo; He rang the bell, and, limping to the door,
+      opened it for her to pass out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was very kind of you to call, signora. May I send for a vettura? No?
+      Good-afternoon, then! Bianca, open the hall-door, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma went out into the street, pondering anxiously. &ldquo;My friends across
+      the frontier&rdquo;&mdash;who were they? And how was the stone to be kicked out
+      of the path? If with satire only, why had he said it with such dangerous
+      eyes?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MONSIGNOR MONTANELLI arrived in Florence in the first week of October. His
+      visit caused a little flutter of excitement throughout the town. He was a
+      famous preacher and a representative of the reformed Papacy; and people
+      looked eagerly to him for an exposition of the &ldquo;new doctrine,&rdquo; the gospel
+      of love and reconciliation which was to cure the sorrows of Italy. The
+      nomination of Cardinal Gizzi to the Roman State Secretaryship in place of
+      the universally detested Lambruschini had raised the public enthusiasm to
+      its highest pitch; and Montanelli was just the man who could most easily
+      sustain it. The irreproachable strictness of his life was a phenomenon
+      sufficiently rare among the high dignitaries of the Roman Church to
+      attract the attention of people accustomed to regard blackmailing,
+      peculation, and disreputable intrigues as almost invariable adjuncts to
+      the career of a prelate. Moreover, his talent as a preacher was really
+      great; and with his beautiful voice and magnetic personality, he would in
+      any time and place have made his mark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Grassini, as usual, strained every nerve to get the newly arrived
+      celebrity to his house; but Montanelli was no easy game to catch. To all
+      invitations he replied with the same courteous but positive refusal,
+      saying that his health was bad and his time fully occupied, and that he
+      had neither strength nor leisure for going into society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What omnivorous creatures those Grassinis are!&rdquo; Martini said
+      contemptuously to Gemma as they crossed the Signoria square one bright,
+      cold Sunday morning. &ldquo;Did you notice the way Grassini bowed when the
+      Cardinal's carriage drove up? It's all one to them who a man is, so long
+      as he's talked about. I never saw such lion-hunters in my life. Only last
+      August it was the Gadfly; now it's Montanelli. I hope His Eminence feels
+      flattered at the attention; a precious lot of adventurers have shared it
+      with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They had been hearing Montanelli preach in the Cathedral; and the great
+      building had been so thronged with eager listeners that Martini, fearing a
+      return of Gemma's troublesome headaches, had persuaded her to come away
+      before the Mass was over. The sunny morning, the first after a week of
+      rain, offered him an excuse for suggesting a walk among the garden slopes
+      by San Niccolo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; she answered; &ldquo;I should like a walk if you have time; but not to the
+      hills. Let us keep along the Lung'Arno; Montanelli will pass on his way
+      back from church and I am like Grassini&mdash;I want to see the
+      notability.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you have just seen him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not close. There was such a crush in the Cathedral, and his back was
+      turned to us when the carriage passed. If we keep near to the bridge we
+      shall be sure to see him well&mdash;he is staying on the Lung'Arno, you
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what has given you such a sudden fancy to see Montanelli? You never
+      used to care about famous preachers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not famous preachers; it is the man himself; I want to see how much
+      he has changed since I saw him last.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When was that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two days after Arthur's death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini glanced at her anxiously. They had come out on to the Lung'Arno,
+      and she was staring absently across the water, with a look on her face
+      that he hated to see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma, dear,&rdquo; he said after a moment; &ldquo;are you going to let that
+      miserable business haunt you all your life? We have all made mistakes when
+      we were seventeen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have not all killed our dearest friend when we were seventeen,&rdquo; she
+      answered wearily; and, leaning her arm on the stone balustrade of the
+      bridge, looked down into the river. Martini held his tongue; he was almost
+      afraid to speak to her when this mood was on her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never look down at water without remembering,&rdquo; she said, slowly raising
+      her eyes to his; then with a nervous little shiver: &ldquo;Let us walk on a bit,
+      Cesare; it is chilly for standing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They crossed the bridge in silence and walked on along the river-side.
+      After a few minutes she spoke again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a beautiful voice that man has! There is something about it that I
+      have never heard in any other human voice. I believe it is the secret of
+      half his influence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a wonderful voice,&rdquo; Martini assented, catching at a subject of
+      conversation which might lead her away from the dreadful memory called up
+      by the river, &ldquo;and he is, apart from his voice, about the finest preacher
+      I have ever heard. But I believe the secret of his influence lies deeper
+      than that. It is the way his life stands out from that of almost all the
+      other prelates. I don't know whether you could lay your hand on one other
+      high dignitary in all the Italian Church&mdash;except the Pope himself&mdash;whose
+      reputation is so utterly spotless. I remember, when I was in the Romagna
+      last year, passing through his diocese and seeing those fierce
+      mountaineers waiting in the rain to get a glimpse of him or touch his
+      dress. He is venerated there almost as a saint; and that means a good deal
+      among the Romagnols, who generally hate everything that wears a cassock. I
+      remarked to one of the old peasants,&mdash;as typical a smuggler as ever I
+      saw in my life,&mdash;that the people seemed very much devoted to their
+      bishop, and he said: 'We don't love bishops, they are liars; we love
+      Monsignor Montanelli. Nobody has ever known him to tell a lie or do an
+      unjust thing.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder,&rdquo; Gemma said, half to herself, &ldquo;if he knows the people think
+      that about him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why shouldn't he know it? Do you think it is not true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it is not true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he told me so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;HE told you? Montanelli? Gemma, what do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pushed the hair back from her forehead and turned towards him. They
+      were standing still again, he leaning on the balustrade and she slowly
+      drawing lines on the pavement with the point of her umbrella.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cesare, you and I have been friends for all these years, and I have never
+      told you what really happened about Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no need to tell me, dear,&rdquo; he broke in hastily; &ldquo;I know all
+      about it already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Giovanni told you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, when he was dying. He told me about it one night when I was sitting
+      up with him. He said&mdash;&mdash; Gemma, dear, I had better tell you the
+      truth, now we have begun talking about it&mdash;he said that you were
+      always brooding over that wretched story, and he begged me to be as good a
+      friend to you as I could and try to keep you from thinking of it. And I
+      have tried to, dear, though I may not have succeeded&mdash;I have,
+      indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know you have,&rdquo; she answered softly, raising her eyes for a moment; &ldquo;I
+      should have been badly off without your friendship. But&mdash;Giovanni did
+      not tell you about Monsignor Montanelli, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I didn't know that he had anything to do with it. What he told me was
+      about&mdash;all that affair with the spy, and about&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About my striking Arthur and his drowning himself. Well, I will tell you
+      about Montanelli.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They turned back towards the bridge over which the Cardinal's carriage
+      would have to pass. Gemma looked out steadily across the water as she
+      spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In those days Montanelli was a canon; he was Director of the Theological
+      Seminary at Pisa, and used to give Arthur lessons in philosophy and read
+      with him after he went up to the Sapienza. They were perfectly devoted to
+      each other; more like two lovers than teacher and pupil. Arthur almost
+      worshipped the ground that Montanelli walked on, and I remember his once
+      telling me that if he lost his 'Padre'&mdash;he always used to call
+      Montanelli so&mdash;he should go and drown himself. Well, then you know
+      what happened about the spy. The next day, my father and the Burtons&mdash;Arthur's
+      step-brothers, most detestable people&mdash;spent the whole day dragging
+      the Darsena basin for the body; and I sat in my room alone and thought of
+      what I had done&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused a moment, and went on again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Late in the evening my father came into my room and said: 'Gemma, child,
+      come downstairs; there's a man I want you to see.' And when we went down
+      there was one of the students belonging to the group sitting in the
+      consulting room, all white and shaking; and he told us about Giovanni's
+      second letter coming from the prison to say that they had heard from the
+      jailer about Cardi, and that Arthur had been tricked in the confessional.
+      I remember the student saying to me: 'It is at least some consolation that
+      we know he was innocent' My father held my hands and tried to comfort me;
+      he did not know then about the blow. Then I went back to my room and sat
+      there all night alone. In the morning my father went out again with the
+      Burtons to see the harbour dragged. They had some hope of finding the body
+      there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was never found, was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it must have got washed out to sea; but they thought there was a
+      chance. I was alone in my room and the servant came up to say that a
+      'reverendissimo padre' had called and she had told him my father was at
+      the docks and he had gone away. I knew it must be Montanelli; so I ran out
+      at the back door and caught him up at the garden gate. When I said: 'Canon
+      Montanelli, I want to speak to you,' he just stopped and waited silently
+      for me to speak. Oh, Cesare, if you had seen his face&mdash;it haunted me
+      for months afterwards! I said: 'I am Dr. Warren's daughter, and I have
+      come to tell you that it is I who have killed Arthur.' I told him
+      everything, and he stood and listened, like a figure cut in stone, till I
+      had finished; then he said: 'Set your heart at rest, my child; it is I
+      that am a murderer, not you. I deceived him and he found it out.' And with
+      that he turned and went out at the gate without another word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what happened to him after that; I heard the same evening
+      that he had fallen down in the street in a kind of fit and had been
+      carried into a house near the docks; but that is all I know. My father did
+      everything he could for me; when I told him about it he threw up his
+      practice and took me away to England at once, so that I should never hear
+      anything that could remind me. He was afraid I should end in the water,
+      too; and indeed I believe I was near it at one time. But then, you know,
+      when we found out that my father had cancer I was obliged to come to
+      myself&mdash;there was no one else to nurse him. And after he died I was
+      left with the little ones on my hands until my elder brother was able to
+      give them a home. Then there was Giovanni. Do you know, when he came to
+      England we were almost afraid to meet each other with that frightful
+      memory between us. He was so bitterly remorseful for his share in it all&mdash;that
+      unhappy letter he wrote from prison. But I believe, really, it was our
+      common trouble that drew us together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini smiled and shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It may have been so on your side,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but Giovanni had made up his
+      mind from the first time he ever saw you. I remember his coming back to
+      Milan after that first visit to Leghorn and raving about you to me till I
+      was perfectly sick of hearing of the English Gemma. I thought I should
+      hate you. Ah! there it comes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The carriage crossed the bridge and drove up to a large house on the
+      Lung'Arno. Montanelli was leaning back on the cushions as if too tired to
+      care any longer for the enthusiastic crowd which had collected round the
+      door to catch a glimpse of him. The inspired look that his face had worn
+      in the Cathedral had faded quite away and the sunlight showed the lines of
+      care and fatigue. When he had alighted and passed, with the heavy,
+      spiritless tread of weary and heart-sick old age, into the house, Gemma
+      turned away and walked slowly to the bridge. Her face seemed for a moment
+      to reflect the withered, hopeless look of his. Martini walked beside her
+      in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have so often wondered,&rdquo; she began again after a little pause; &ldquo;what he
+      meant about the deception. It has sometimes occurred to me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it is very strange; there was the most extraordinary personal
+      resemblance between them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Between whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur and Montanelli. It was not only I who noticed it. And there was
+      something mysterious in the relationship between the members of that
+      household. Mrs. Burton, Arthur's mother, was one of the sweetest women I
+      ever knew. Her face had the same spiritual look as Arthur's, and I believe
+      they were alike in character, too. But she always seemed half frightened,
+      like a detected criminal; and her step-son's wife used to treat her as no
+      decent person treats a dog. And then Arthur himself was such a startling
+      contrast to all those vulgar Burtons. Of course, when one is a child one
+      takes everything for granted; but looking back on it afterwards I have
+      often wondered whether Arthur was really a Burton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Possibly he found out something about his mother&mdash;that may easily
+      have been the cause of his death, not the Cardi affair at all,&rdquo; Martini
+      interposed, offering the only consolation he could think of at the moment.
+      Gemma shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you could have seen his face after I struck him, Cesare, you would not
+      think that. It may be all true about Montanelli&mdash;very likely it is&mdash;but
+      what I have done I have done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked on a little way without speaking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear,&rdquo; Martini said at last; &ldquo;if there were any way on earth to undo a
+      thing that is once done, it would be worth while to brood over our old
+      mistakes; but as it is, let the dead bury their dead. It is a terrible
+      story, but at least the poor lad is out of it now, and luckier than some
+      of those that are left&mdash;the ones that are in exile and in prison. You
+      and I have them to think of, we have no right to eat out our hearts for
+      the dead. Remember what your own Shelley says: 'The past is Death's, the
+      future is thine own.' Take it, while it is still yours, and fix your mind,
+      not on what you may have done long ago to hurt, but on what you can do now
+      to help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In his earnestness he had taken her hand. He dropped it suddenly and drew
+      back at the sound of a soft, cold, drawling voice behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsignor Montan-n-nelli,&rdquo; murmured this languid voice, &ldquo;is undoubtedly
+      all you say, my dear doctor. In fact, he appears to be so much too good
+      for this world that he ought to be politely escorted into the next. I am
+      sure he would cause as great a sensation there as he has done here; there
+      are p-p-probably many old-established ghosts who have never seen such a
+      thing as an honest cardinal. And there is nothing that ghosts love as they
+      do novelties&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know that?&rdquo; asked Dr. Riccardo's voice in a tone of
+      ill-suppressed irritation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From Holy Writ, my dear sir. If the Gospel is to be trusted, even the
+      most respectable of all Ghosts had a f-f-fancy for capricious alliances.
+      Now, honesty and c-c-cardinals&mdash;that seems to me a somewhat
+      capricious alliance, and rather an uncomfortable one, like shrimps and
+      liquorice. Ah, Signor Martini, and Signora Bolla! Lovely weather after the
+      rain, is it not? Have you been to hear the n-new Savonarola, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini turned round sharply. The Gadfly, with a cigar in his mouth and a
+      hot-house flower in his buttonhole, was holding out to him a slender,
+      carefully-gloved hand. With the sunlight reflected in his immaculate boots
+      and glancing back from the water on to his smiling face, he looked to
+      Martini less lame and more conceited than usual. They were shaking hands,
+      affably on the one side and rather sulkily on the other, when Riccardo
+      hastily exclaimed:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid Signora Bolla is not well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was so pale that her face looked almost livid under the shadow of her
+      bonnet, and the ribbon at her throat fluttered perceptibly from the
+      violent beating of the heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go home,&rdquo; she said faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A cab was called and Martini got in with her to see her safely home. As
+      the Gadfly bent down to arrange her cloak, which was hanging over the
+      wheel, he raised his eyes suddenly to her face, and Martini saw that she
+      shrank away with a look of something like terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma, what is the matter with you?&rdquo; he asked, in English, when they had
+      started. &ldquo;What did that scoundrel say to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, Cesare; it was no fault of his. I&mdash;I&mdash;had a fright&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A fright?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I fancied&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; She put one hand over her eyes, and he
+      waited silently till she should recover her self-command. Her face was
+      already regaining its natural colour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite right,&rdquo; she said at last, turning to him and speaking in
+      her usual voice; &ldquo;it is worse than useless to look back at a horrible
+      past. It plays tricks with one's nerves and makes one imagine all sorts of
+      impossible things. We will NEVER talk about that subject again, Cesare, or
+      I shall see fantastic likenesses to Arthur in every face I meet. It is a
+      kind of hallucination, like a nightmare in broad daylight. Just now, when
+      that odious little fop came up, I fancied it was Arthur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE Gadfly certainly knew how to make personal enemies. He had arrived in
+      Florence in August, and by the end of October three-fourths of the
+      committee which had invited him shared Martini's opinion. His savage
+      attacks upon Montanelli had annoyed even his admirers; and Galli himself,
+      who at first had been inclined to uphold everything the witty satirist
+      said or did, began to acknowledge with an aggrieved air that Montanelli
+      had better have been left in peace. &ldquo;Decent cardinals are none so plenty.
+      One might treat them politely when they do turn up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The only person who, apparently, remained quite indifferent to the storm
+      of caricatures and pasquinades was Montanelli himself. It seemed, as
+      Martini said, hardly worth while to expend one's energy in ridiculing a
+      man who took it so good-humouredly. It was said in the town that
+      Montanelli, one day when the Archbishop of Florence was dining with him,
+      had found in the room one of the Gadfly's bitter personal lampoons against
+      himself, had read it through and handed the paper to the Archbishop,
+      remarking: &ldquo;That is rather cleverly put, is it not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One day there appeared in the town a leaflet, headed: &ldquo;The Mystery of the
+      Annunciation.&rdquo; Even had the author omitted his now familiar signature, a
+      sketch of a gadfly with spread wings, the bitter, trenchant style would
+      have left in the minds of most readers no doubt as to his identity. The
+      skit was in the form of a dialogue between Tuscany as the Virgin Mary, and
+      Montanelli as the angel who, bearing the lilies of purity and crowned with
+      the olive branch of peace, was announcing the advent of the Jesuits. The
+      whole thing was full of offensive personal allusions and hints of the most
+      risky nature, and all Florence felt the satire to be both ungenerous and
+      unfair. And yet all Florence laughed. There was something so irresistible
+      in the Gadfly's grave absurdities that those who most disapproved of and
+      disliked him laughed as immoderately at all his squibs as did his warmest
+      partisans. Repulsive in tone as the leaflet was, it left its trace upon
+      the popular feeling of the town. Montanelli's personal reputation stood
+      too high for any lampoon, however witty, seriously to injure it, but for a
+      moment the tide almost turned against him. The Gadfly had known where to
+      sting; and, though eager crowds still collected before the Cardinal's
+      house to see him enter or leave his carriage, ominous cries of &ldquo;Jesuit!&rdquo;
+       and &ldquo;Sanfedist spy!&rdquo; often mingled with the cheers and benedictions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Montanelli had no lack of supporters. Two days after the publication
+      of the skit, the Churchman, a leading clerical paper, brought out a
+      brilliant article, called: &ldquo;An Answer to 'The Mystery of the
+      Annunciation,'&rdquo; and signed: &ldquo;A Son of the Church.&rdquo; It was an impassioned
+      defence of Montanelli against the Gadfly's slanderous imputations. The
+      anonymous writer, after expounding, with great eloquence and fervour, the
+      doctrine of peace on earth and good will towards men, of which the new
+      Pontiff was the evangelist, concluded by challenging the Gadfly to prove a
+      single one of his assertions, and solemnly appealing to the public not to
+      believe a contemptible slanderer. Both the cogency of the article as a bit
+      of special pleading and its merit as a literary composition were
+      sufficiently far above the average to attract much attention in the town,
+      especially as not even the editor of the newspaper could guess the
+      author's identity. The article was soon reprinted separately in pamphlet
+      form; and the &ldquo;anonymous defender&rdquo; was discussed in every coffee-shop in
+      Florence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly responded with a violent attack on the new Pontificate and all
+      its supporters, especially on Montanelli, who, he cautiously hinted, had
+      probably consented to the panegyric on himself. To this the anonymous
+      defender again replied in the Churchman with an indignant denial. During
+      the rest of Montanelli's stay the controversy raging between the two
+      writers occupied more of the public attention than did even the famous
+      preacher himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some members of the liberal party ventured to remonstrate with the Gadfly
+      about the unnecessary malice of his tone towards Montanelli; but they did
+      not get much satisfaction out of him. He only smiled affably and answered
+      with a languid little stammer: &ldquo;R-really, gentlemen, you are rather
+      unfair. I expressly stipulated, when I gave in to Signora Bolla, that I
+      should be allowed a l-l-little chuckle all to myself now. It is so
+      nominated in the bond!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of October Montanelli returned to his see in the Romagna, and,
+      before leaving Florence, preached a farewell sermon in which he spoke of
+      the controversy, gently deprecating the vehemence of both writers and
+      begging his unknown defender to set an example of tolerance by closing a
+      useless and unseemly war of words. On the following day the Churchman
+      contained a notice that, at Monsignor Montanelli's publicly expressed
+      desire, &ldquo;A Son of the Church&rdquo; would withdraw from the controversy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The last word remained with the Gadfly. He issued a little leaflet, in
+      which he declared himself disarmed and converted by Montanelli's Christian
+      meekness and ready to weep tears of reconciliation upon the neck of the
+      first Sanfedist he met. &ldquo;I am even willing,&rdquo; he concluded; &ldquo;to embrace my
+      anonymous challenger himself; and if my readers knew, as his Eminence and
+      I know, what that implies and why he remains anonymous, they would believe
+      in the sincerity of my conversion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the latter part of November he announced to the literary committee that
+      he was going for a fortnight's holiday to the seaside. He went,
+      apparently, to Leghorn; but Dr. Riccardo, going there soon after and
+      wishing to speak to him, searched the town for him in vain. On the 5th of
+      December a political demonstration of the most extreme character burst out
+      in the States of the Church, along the whole chain of the Apennines; and
+      people began to guess the reason of the Gadfly's sudden fancy to take his
+      holidays in the depth of winter. He came back to Florence when the riots
+      had been quelled, and, meeting Riccardo in the street, remarked affably:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hear you were inquiring for me in Leghorn; I was staying in Pisa. What
+      a pretty old town it is! There's something quite Arcadian about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In Christmas week he attended an afternoon meeting of the literary
+      committee which was held in Dr. Riccardo's lodgings near the Porta alla
+      Croce. The meeting was a full one, and when he came in, a little late,
+      with an apologetic bow and smile, there seemed to be no seat empty.
+      Riccardo rose to fetch a chair from the next room, but the Gadfly stopped
+      him. &ldquo;Don't trouble about it,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I shall be quite comfortable
+      here&rdquo;; and crossing the room to a window beside which Gemma had placed her
+      chair, he sat down on the sill, leaning his head indolently back against
+      the shutter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he looked down at Gemma, smiling with half-shut eyes, in the subtle,
+      sphinx-like way that gave him the look of a Leonardo da Vinci portrait,
+      the instinctive distrust with which he inspired her deepened into a sense
+      of unreasoning fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The proposal under discussion was that a pamphlet be issued setting forth
+      the committee's views on the dearth with which Tuscany was threatened and
+      the measures which should be taken to meet it. The matter was a somewhat
+      difficult one to decide, because, as usual, the committee's views upon the
+      subject were much divided. The more advanced section, to which Gemma,
+      Martini, and Riccardo belonged, was in favour of an energetic appeal to
+      both government and public to take adequate measures at once for the
+      relief of the peasantry. The moderate division&mdash;including, of course,
+      Grassini&mdash;feared that an over-emphatic tone might irritate rather
+      than convince the ministry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all very well, gentlemen, to want the people helped at once,&rdquo; he
+      said, looking round upon the red-hot radicals with his calm and pitying
+      air. &ldquo;We most of us want a good many things that we are not likely to get;
+      but if we start with the tone you propose to adopt, the government is very
+      likely not to begin any relief measures at all till there is actual
+      famine. If we could only induce the ministry to make an inquiry into the
+      state of the crops it would be a step in advance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Galli, in his corner by the stove, jumped up to answer his enemy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A step in advance&mdash;yes, my dear sir; but if there's going to be a
+      famine, it won't wait for us to advance at that pace. The people might all
+      starve before we got to any actual relief.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be interesting to know&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Sacconi began; but several
+      voices interrupted him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speak up; we can't hear!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think not, with such an infernal row in the street,&rdquo; said Galli,
+      irritably. &ldquo;Is that window shut, Riccardo? One can't hear one's self
+      speak!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma looked round. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;the window is quite shut. I think
+      there is a variety show, or some such thing, passing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sounds of shouting and laughter, of the tinkling of bells and
+      trampling of feet, resounded from the street below, mixed with the braying
+      of a villainous brass band and the unmerciful banging of a drum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It can't be helped these few days,&rdquo; said Riccardo; &ldquo;we must expect noise
+      at Christmas time. What were you saying, Sacconi?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said it would be interesting to hear what is thought about the matter
+      in Pisa and Leghorn. Perhaps Signor Rivarez can tell us something; he has
+      just come from there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly did not answer. He was staring out of the window and appeared
+      not to have heard what had been said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez!&rdquo; said Gemma. She was the only person sitting near to him,
+      and as he remained silent she bent forward and touched him on the arm. He
+      slowly turned his face to her, and she started as she saw its fixed and
+      awful immobility. For a moment it was like the face of a corpse; then the
+      lips moved in a strange, lifeless way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he whispered; &ldquo;a variety show.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her first instinct was to shield him from the curiosity of the others.
+      Without understanding what was the matter with him, she realized that some
+      frightful fancy or hallucination had seized upon him, and that, for the
+      moment, he was at its mercy, body and soul. She rose quickly and, standing
+      between him and the company, threw the window open as if to look out. No
+      one but herself had seen his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the street a travelling circus was passing, with mountebanks on donkeys
+      and harlequins in parti-coloured dresses. The crowd of holiday
+      masqueraders, laughing and shoving, was exchanging jests and showers of
+      paper ribbon with the clowns and flinging little bags of sugar-plums to
+      the columbine, who sat in her car, tricked out in tinsel and feathers,
+      with artificial curls on her forehead and an artificial smile on her
+      painted lips. Behind the car came a motley string of figures&mdash;street
+      Arabs, beggars, clowns turning somersaults, and costermongers hawking
+      their wares. They were jostling, pelting, and applauding a figure which at
+      first Gemma could not see for the pushing and swaying of the crowd. The
+      next moment, however, she saw plainly what it was&mdash;a hunchback,
+      dwarfish and ugly, grotesquely attired in a fool's dress, with paper cap
+      and bells. He evidently belonged to the strolling company, and was amusing
+      the crowd with hideous grimaces and contortions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is going on out there?&rdquo; asked Riccardo, approaching the window. &ldquo;You
+      seem very much interested.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was a little surprised at their keeping the whole committee waiting to
+      look at a strolling company of mountebanks. Gemma turned round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is nothing interesting,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;only a variety show; but they made
+      such a noise that I thought it must be something else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was standing with one hand upon the window-sill, and suddenly felt the
+      Gadfly's cold fingers press the hand with a passionate clasp. &ldquo;Thank you!&rdquo;
+       he whispered softly; and then, closing the window, sat down again upon the
+      sill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid,&rdquo; he said in his airy manner, &ldquo;that I have interrupted you,
+      gentlemen. I was l-looking at the variety show; it is s-such a p-pretty
+      sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sacconi was asking you a question,&rdquo; said Martini gruffly. The Gadfly's
+      behaviour seemed to him an absurd piece of affectation, and he was annoyed
+      that Gemma should have been tactless enough to follow his example. It was
+      not like her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly disclaimed all knowledge of the state of feeling in Pisa,
+      explaining that he had been there &ldquo;only on a holiday.&rdquo; He then plunged at
+      once into an animated discussion, first of agricultural prospects, then of
+      the pamphlet question; and continued pouring out a flood of stammering
+      talk till the others were quite tired. He seemed to find some feverish
+      delight in the sound of his own voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the meeting ended and the members of the committee rose to go,
+      Riccardo came up to Martini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you stop to dinner with me? Fabrizi and Sacconi have promised to
+      stay.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks; but I was going to see Signora Bolla home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you really afraid I can't get home by myself?&rdquo; she asked, rising and
+      putting on her wrap. &ldquo;Of course he will stay with you, Dr. Riccardo; it's
+      good for him to get a change. He doesn't go out half enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will allow me, I will see you home,&rdquo; the Gadfly interposed; &ldquo;I am
+      going in that direction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you really are going that way&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you won't have time to drop in here in the course of the
+      evening, will you, Rivarez?&rdquo; asked Riccardo, as he opened the door for
+      them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly looked back over his shoulder, laughing. &ldquo;I, my dear fellow?
+      I'm going to see the variety show!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a strange creature that is; and what an odd affection for
+      mountebanks!&rdquo; said Riccardo, coming back to his visitors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Case of a fellow-feeling, I should think,&rdquo; said Martini; &ldquo;the man's a
+      mountebank himself, if ever I saw one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I could think he was only that,&rdquo; Fabrizi interposed, with a grave
+      face. &ldquo;If he is a mountebank I am afraid he's a very dangerous one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dangerous in what way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't like those mysterious little pleasure trips that he is so
+      fond of taking. This is the third time, you know; and I don't believe he
+      has been in Pisa at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose it is almost an open secret that it's into the mountains he
+      goes,&rdquo; said Sacconi. &ldquo;He has hardly taken the trouble to deny that he is
+      still in relations with the smugglers he got to know in the Savigno
+      affair, and it's quite natural he should take advantage of their
+      friendship to get his leaflets across the Papal frontier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For my part,&rdquo; said Riccardo; &ldquo;what I wanted to talk to you about is this
+      very question. It occurred to me that we could hardly do better than ask
+      Rivarez to undertake the management of our own smuggling. That press at
+      Pistoja is very inefficiently managed, to my thinking; and the way the
+      leaflets are taken across, always rolled in those everlasting cigars, is
+      more than primitive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has answered pretty well up till now,&rdquo; said Martini contumaciously. He
+      was getting wearied of hearing Galli and Riccardo always put the Gadfly
+      forward as a model to copy, and inclined to think that the world had gone
+      well enough before this &ldquo;lackadaisical buccaneer&rdquo; turned up to set
+      everyone to rights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has answered so far well that we have been satisfied with it for want
+      of anything better; but you know there have been plenty of arrests and
+      confiscations. Now I believe that if Rivarez undertook the business for
+      us, there would be less of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the first place, the smugglers look upon us as strangers to do
+      business with, or as sheep to fleece, whereas Rivarez is their personal
+      friend, very likely their leader, whom they look up to and trust. You may
+      be sure every smuggler in the Apennines will do for a man who was in the
+      Savigno revolt what he will not do for us. In the next place, there's
+      hardly a man among us that knows the mountains as Rivarez does. Remember,
+      he has been a fugitive among them, and knows the smugglers' paths by
+      heart. No smuggler would dare to cheat him, even if he wished to, and no
+      smuggler could cheat him if he dared to try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then is your proposal that we should ask him to take over the whole
+      management of our literature on the other side of the frontier&mdash;distribution,
+      addresses, hiding-places, everything&mdash;or simply that we should ask
+      him to put the things across for us?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, as for addresses and hiding-places, he probably knows already all
+      the ones that we have and a good many more that we have not. I don't
+      suppose we should be able to teach him much in that line. As for
+      distribution, it's as the others prefer, of course. The important
+      question, to my mind, is the actual smuggling itself. Once the books are
+      safe in Bologna, it's a comparatively simple matter to circulate them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For my part,&rdquo; said Martini, &ldquo;I am against the plan. In the first place,
+      all this about his skilfulness is mere conjecture; we have not actually
+      seen him engaged in frontier work and do not know whether he keeps his
+      head in critical moments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you needn't have any doubt of that!&rdquo; Riccardo put in. &ldquo;The history of
+      the Savigno affair proves that he keeps his head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then,&rdquo; Martini went on; &ldquo;I do not feel at all inclined, from what
+      little I know of Rivarez, to intrust him with all the party's secrets. He
+      seems to me feather-brained and theatrical. To give the whole management
+      of a party's contraband work into a man's hands is a serious matter.
+      Fabrizi, what do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had only such objections as yours, Martini,&rdquo; replied the professor,
+      &ldquo;I should certainly waive them in the case of a man really possessing, as
+      Rivarez undoubtedly does, all the qualifications Riccardo speaks of. For
+      my part, I have not the slightest doubt as to either his courage, his
+      honesty, or his presence of mind; and that he knows both mountains and
+      mountaineers we have had ample proof. But there is another objection. I do
+      not feel sure that it is only for the smuggling of pamphlets he goes into
+      the mountains. I have begun to doubt whether he has not another purpose.
+      This is, of course, entirely between ourselves. It is a mere suspicion. It
+      seems to me just possible that he is in connexion with some one of the
+      'sects,' and perhaps with the most dangerous of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which one do you mean&mdash;the 'Red Girdles'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; the 'Occoltellatori.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The 'Knifers'! But that is a little body of outlaws&mdash;peasants, most
+      of them, with neither education nor political experience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So were the insurgents of Savigno; but they had a few educated men as
+      leaders, and this little society may have the same. And remember, it's
+      pretty well known that most of the members of those more violent sects in
+      the Romagna are survivors of the Savigno affair, who found themselves too
+      weak to fight the Churchmen in open insurrection, and so have fallen back
+      on assassination. Their hands are not strong enough for guns, and they
+      take to knives instead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what makes you suppose Rivarez to be connected with them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't suppose, I merely suspect. In any case, I think we had better
+      find out for certain before we intrust our smuggling to him. If he
+      attempted to do both kinds of work at once he would injure our party most
+      terribly; he would simply destroy its reputation and accomplish nothing.
+      However, we will talk of that another time. I wanted to speak to you about
+      the news from Rome. It is said that a commission is to be appointed to
+      draw up a project for a municipal constitution.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      GEMMA and the Gadfly walked silently along the Lung'Arno. His feverish
+      talkativeness seemed to have quite spent itself; he had hardly spoken a
+      word since they left Riccardo's door, and Gemma was heartily glad of his
+      silence. She always felt embarrassed in his company, and to-day more so
+      than usual, for his strange behaviour at the committee meeting had greatly
+      perplexed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By the Uffizi palace he suddenly stopped and turned to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you tired?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nor especially busy this evening?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to ask a favour of you; I want you to come for a walk with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nowhere in particular; anywhere you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;can't tell you&mdash;at least, it's very difficult; but please
+      come if you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He raised his eyes suddenly from the ground, and she saw how strange their
+      expression was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is something the matter with you,&rdquo; she said gently. He pulled a
+      leaf from the flower in his button-hole, and began tearing it to pieces.
+      Who was it that he was so oddly like? Someone who had that same trick of
+      the fingers and hurried, nervous gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am in trouble,&rdquo; he said, looking down at his hands and speaking in a
+      hardly audible voice. &ldquo;I&mdash;don't want to be alone this evening. Will
+      you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, certainly, unless you would rather go to my lodgings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; come and dine with me at a restaurant. There's one on the Signoria.
+      Please don't refuse, now; you've promised!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They went into a restaurant, where he ordered dinner, but hardly touched
+      his own share, and remained obstinately silent, crumbling the bread over
+      the cloth, and fidgeting with the fringe of his table napkin. Gemma felt
+      thoroughly uncomfortable, and began to wish she had refused to come; the
+      silence was growing awkward; yet she could not begin to make small-talk
+      with a person who seemed to have forgotten her presence. At last he looked
+      up and said abruptly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you like to see the variety show?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stared at him in astonishment. What had he got into his head about
+      variety shows?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you ever seen one?&rdquo; he asked before she had time to speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I don't think so. I didn't suppose they were interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are very interesting. I don't think anyone can study the life of the
+      people without seeing them. Let us go back to the Porta alla Croce.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When they arrived the mountebanks had set up their tent beside the town
+      gate, and an abominable scraping of fiddles and banging of drums announced
+      that the performance had begun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The entertainment was of the roughest kind. A few clowns, harlequins, and
+      acrobats, a circus-rider jumping through hoops, the painted columbine, and
+      the hunchback performing various dull and foolish antics, represented the
+      entire force of the company. The jokes were not, on the whole, coarse or
+      offensive; but they were very tame and stale, and there was a depressing
+      flatness about the whole thing. The audience laughed and clapped from
+      their innate Tuscan courtesy; but the only part which they seemed really
+      to enjoy was the performance of the hunchback, in which Gemma could find
+      nothing either witty or skilful. It was merely a series of grotesque and
+      hideous contortions, which the spectators mimicked, holding up children on
+      their shoulders that the little ones might see the &ldquo;ugly man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez, do you really think this attractive?&rdquo; said Gemma, turning
+      to the Gadfly, who was standing beside her, his arm round one of the
+      wooden posts of the tent. &ldquo;It seems to me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She broke off and remained looking at him silently. Except when she had
+      stood with Montanelli at the garden gate in Leghorn, she had never seen a
+      human face express such fathomless, hopeless misery. She thought of
+      Dante's hell as she watched him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently the hunchback, receiving a kick from one of the clowns, turned a
+      somersault and tumbled in a grotesque heap outside the ring. A dialogue
+      between two clowns began, and the Gadfly seemed to wake out of a dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall we go?&rdquo; he asked; &ldquo;or would you like to see more?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They left the tent, and walked across the dark green to the river. For a
+      few moments neither spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you think of the show?&rdquo; the Gadfly asked presently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought it rather a dreary business; and part of it seemed to me
+      positively unpleasant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which part?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, all those grimaces and contortions. They are simply ugly; there is
+      nothing clever about them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean the hunchback's performance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Remembering his peculiar sensitiveness on the subject of his own physical
+      defects, she had avoided mentioning this particular bit of the
+      entertainment; but now that he had touched upon the subject himself, she
+      answered: &ldquo;Yes; I did not like that part at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was the part the people enjoyed most.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say; and that is just the worst thing about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it was inartistic?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;N-no; it was all inartistic. I meant&mdash;because it was cruel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cruel? Do you mean to the hunchback?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean&mdash;&mdash; Of course the man himself was quite indifferent; no
+      doubt, it is to him just a way of getting a living, like the
+      circus-rider's way or the columbine's. But the thing makes one feel
+      unhappy. It is humiliating; it is the degradation of a human being.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He probably is not any more degraded than he was to start with. Most of
+      us are degraded in one way or another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but this&mdash;I dare say you will think it an absurd prejudice; but
+      a human body, to me, is a sacred thing; I don't like to see it treated
+      irreverently and made hideous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a human soul?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had stopped short, and was standing with one hand on the stone
+      balustrade of the embankment, looking straight at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A soul?&rdquo; she repeated, stopping in her turn to look at him in wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He flung out both hands with a sudden, passionate gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has it never occurred to you that that miserable clown may have a soul&mdash;a
+      living, struggling, human soul, tied down into that crooked hulk of a body
+      and forced to slave for it? You that are so tender-hearted to everything&mdash;you
+      that pity the body in its fool's dress and bells&mdash;have you never
+      thought of the wretched soul that has not even motley to cover its
+      horrible nakedness? Think of it shivering with cold, stilled with shame
+      and misery, before all those people&mdash;feeling their jeers that cut
+      like a whip&mdash;their laughter, that burns like red-hot iron on the bare
+      flesh! Think of it looking round&mdash;so helpless before them all&mdash;for
+      the mountains that will not fall on it&mdash;for the rocks that have not
+      the heart to cover it&mdash;envying the rats that can creep into some hole
+      in the earth and hide; and remember that a soul is dumb&mdash;it has no
+      voice to cry out&mdash;it must endure, and endure, and endure. Oh! I'm
+      talking nonsense! Why on earth don't you laugh? You have no sense of
+      humour!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly and in dead silence she turned and walked on along the river side.
+      During the whole evening it had not once occurred to her to connect his
+      trouble, whatever it might be, with the variety show; and now that some
+      dim picture of his inner life had been revealed to her by this sudden
+      outburst, she could not find, in her overwhelming pity for him, one word
+      to say. He walked on beside her, with his head turned away, and looked
+      into the water.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you, please, to understand,&rdquo; he began suddenly, turning to her
+      with a defiant air, &ldquo;that everything I have just been saying to you is
+      pure imagination. I'm rather given to romancing, but I don't like people
+      to take it seriously.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She made no answer, and they walked on in silence. As they passed by the
+      gateway of the Uffizi, he crossed the road and stooped down over a dark
+      bundle that was lying against the railings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter, little one?&rdquo; he asked, more gently than she had ever
+      heard him speak. &ldquo;Why don't you go home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The bundle moved, and answered something in a low, moaning voice. Gemma
+      came across to look, and saw a child of about six years old, ragged and
+      dirty, crouching on the pavement like a frightened animal. The Gadfly was
+      bending down with his hand on the unkempt head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; he said, stooping lower to catch the unintelligible answer.
+      &ldquo;You ought to go home to bed; little boys have no business out of doors at
+      night; you'll be quite frozen! Give me your hand and jump up like a man!
+      Where do you live?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the child's arm to raise him. The result was a sharp scream and a
+      quick shrinking away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, what is it?&rdquo; the Gadfly asked, kneeling down on the pavement. &ldquo;Ah!
+      Signora, look here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child's shoulder and jacket were covered with blood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me what has happened?&rdquo; the Gadfly went on caressingly. &ldquo;It wasn't a
+      fall, was it? No? Someone's been beating you? I thought so! Who was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes! And when was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This morning. He was drunk, and I&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you got in his way&mdash;was that it? You shouldn't get in people's
+      way when they are drunk, little man; they don't like it. What shall we do
+      with this poor mite, signora? Come here to the light, sonny, and let me
+      look at that shoulder. Put your arm round my neck; I won't hurt you. There
+      we are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He lifted the boy in his arms, and, carrying him across the street, set
+      him down on the wide stone balustrade. Then, taking out a pocket-knife, he
+      deftly ripped up the torn sleeve, supporting the child's head against his
+      breast, while Gemma held the injured arm. The shoulder was badly bruised
+      and grazed, and there was a deep gash on the arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's an ugly cut to give a mite like you,&rdquo; said the Gadfly, fastening
+      his handkerchief round the wound to prevent the jacket from rubbing
+      against it. &ldquo;What did he do it with?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The shovel. I went to ask him to give me a soldo to get some polenta at
+      the corner shop, and he hit me with the shovel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly shuddered. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said softly, &ldquo;that hurts; doesn't it,
+      little one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He hit me with the shovel&mdash;and I ran away&mdash;I ran away&mdash;because
+      he hit me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you've been wandering about ever since, without any dinner?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Instead of answering, the child began to sob violently. The Gadfly lifted
+      him off the balustrade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, there! We'll soon set all that straight. I wonder if we can get a
+      cab anywhere. I'm afraid they'll all be waiting by the theatre; there's a
+      grand performance going on to-night. I am sorry to drag you about so,
+      signora; but&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather come with you. You may want help. Do you think you can
+      carry him so far? Isn't he very heavy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I can manage, thank you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the theatre door they found only a few cabs waiting, and these were all
+      engaged. The performance was over, and most of the audience had gone.
+      Zita's name was printed in large letters on the wall-placards; she had
+      been dancing in the ballet. Asking Gemma to wait for him a moment, the
+      Gadfly went round to the performers' entrance, and spoke to an attendant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has Mme. Reni gone yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; the man answered, staring blankly at the spectacle of a
+      well-dressed gentleman carrying a ragged street child in his arms, &ldquo;Mme.
+      Reni is just coming out, I think; her carriage is waiting for her. Yes;
+      there she comes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zita descended the stairs, leaning on the arm of a young cavalry officer.
+      She looked superbly handsome, with an opera cloak of flame-coloured velvet
+      thrown over her evening dress, and a great fan of ostrich plumes hanging
+      from her waist. In the entry she stopped short, and, drawing her hand away
+      from the officer's arm, approached the Gadfly in amazement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Felice!&rdquo; she exclaimed under her breath, &ldquo;what HAVE you got there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have picked up this child in the street. It is hurt and starving; and I
+      want to get it home as quickly as possible. There is not a cab to be got
+      anywhere, so I want to have your carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Felice! you are not going to take a horrid beggar-child into your rooms!
+      Send for a policeman, and let him carry it to the Refuge or whatever is
+      the proper place for it. You can't have all the paupers in the town&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is hurt,&rdquo; the Gadfly repeated; &ldquo;it can go to the Refuge to-morrow, if
+      necessary, but I must see to the child first and give it some food.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zita made a little grimace of disgust. &ldquo;You've got its head right against
+      your shirt! How CAN you? It is dirty!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly looked up with a sudden flash of anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is hungry,&rdquo; he said fiercely. &ldquo;You don't know what that means, do
+      you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez,&rdquo; interposed Gemma, coming forward, &ldquo;my lodgings are quite
+      close. Let us take the child in there. Then, if you cannot find a vettura,
+      I will manage to put it up for the night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned round quickly. &ldquo;You don't mind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not. Good-night, Mme. Reni!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gipsy, with a stiff bow and an angry shrug of her shoulders, took her
+      officer's arm again, and, gathering up the train of her dress, swept past
+      them to the contested carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will send it back to fetch you and the child, if you like, M. Rivarez,&rdquo;
+       she said, pausing on the doorstep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well; I will give the address.&rdquo; He came out on to the pavement, gave
+      the address to the driver, and walked back to Gemma with his burden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Katie was waiting up for her mistress; and, on hearing what had happened,
+      ran for warm water and other necessaries. Placing the child on a chair,
+      the Gadfly knelt down beside him, and, deftly slipping off the ragged
+      clothing, bathed and bandaged the wound with tender, skilful hands. He had
+      just finished washing the boy, and was wrapping him in a warm blanket,
+      when Gemma came in with a tray in her hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is your patient ready for his supper?&rdquo; she asked, smiling at the strange
+      little figure. &ldquo;I have been cooking it for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly stood up and rolled the dirty rags together. &ldquo;I'm afraid we
+      have made a terrible mess in your room,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;As for these, they had
+      better go straight into the fire, and I will buy him some new clothes
+      to-morrow. Have you any brandy in the house, signora? I think he ought to
+      have a little. I will just wash my hands, if you will allow me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the child had finished his supper, he immediately went to sleep in
+      the Gadfly's arms, with his rough head against the white shirt-front.
+      Gemma, who had been helping Katie to set the disordered room tidy again,
+      sat down at the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez, you must take something before you go home&mdash;you had
+      hardly any dinner, and it's very late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like a cup of tea in the English fashion, if you have it. I'm
+      sorry to keep you up so late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! that doesn't matter. Put the child down on the sofa; he will tire
+      you. Wait a minute; I will just lay a sheet over the cushions. What are
+      you going to do with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow? Find out whether he has any other relations except that
+      drunken brute; and if not, I suppose I must follow Mme. Reni's advice, and
+      take him to the Refuge. Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to put a
+      stone round his neck and pitch him into the river there; but that would
+      expose me to unpleasant consequences. Fast asleep! What an odd little lump
+      of ill-luck you are, you mite&mdash;not half as capable of defending
+      yourself as a stray cat!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Katie brought in the tea-tray, the boy opened his eyes and sat up
+      with a bewildered air. Recognizing the Gadfly, whom he already regarded as
+      his natural protector, he wriggled off the sofa, and, much encumbered by
+      the folds of his blanket, came up to nestle against him. He was by now
+      sufficiently revived to be inquisitive; and, pointing to the mutilated
+      left hand, in which the Gadfly was holding a piece of cake, asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That? Cake; do you want some? I think you've had enough for now. Wait
+      till to-morrow, little man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;that!&rdquo; He stretched out his hand and touched the stumps of the
+      amputated fingers and the great scar on the wrist. The Gadfly put down his
+      cake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that! It's the same sort of thing as what you have on your shoulder&mdash;a
+      hit I got from someone stronger than I was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't it hurt awfully?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know&mdash;not more than other things. There, now, go to
+      sleep again; you have no business asking questions at this time of night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the carriage arrived the boy was again asleep; and the Gadfly,
+      without awaking him, lifted him gently and carried him out on to the
+      stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been a sort of ministering angel to me to-day,&rdquo; he said to
+      Gemma, pausing at the door. &ldquo;But I suppose that need not prevent us from
+      quarrelling to our heart's content in future.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no desire to quarrel with anyone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! but I have. Life would be unendurable without quarrels. A good
+      quarrel is the salt of the earth; it's better than a variety show!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And with that he went downstairs, laughing softly to himself, with the
+      sleeping child in his arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      ONE day in the first week of January Martini, who had sent round the forms
+      of invitation to the monthly group-meeting of the literary committee,
+      received from the Gadfly a laconic, pencil-scrawled &ldquo;Very sorry: can't
+      come.&rdquo; He was a little annoyed, as a notice of &ldquo;important business&rdquo; had
+      been put into the invitation; this cavalier treatment seemed to him almost
+      insolent. Moreover, three separate letters containing bad news arrived
+      during the day, and the wind was in the east, so that Martini felt out of
+      sorts and out of temper; and when, at the group meeting, Dr. Riccardo
+      asked, &ldquo;Isn't Rivarez here?&rdquo; he answered rather sulkily: &ldquo;No; he seems to
+      have got something more interesting on hand, and can't come, or doesn't
+      want to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really, Martini,&rdquo; said Galli irritably, &ldquo;you are about the most
+      prejudiced person in Florence. Once you object to a man, everything he
+      does is wrong. How could Rivarez come when he's ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who told you he was ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't you know? He's been laid up for the last four days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the matter with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. He had to put off an appointment with me on Thursday on
+      account of illness; and last night, when I went round, I heard that he was
+      too ill to see anyone. I thought Riccardo would be looking after him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew nothing about it. I'll go round to-night and see if he wants
+      anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next morning Riccardo, looking very pale and tired, came into Gemma's
+      little study. She was sitting at the table, reading out monotonous strings
+      of figures to Martini, who, with a magnifying glass in one hand and a
+      finely pointed pencil in the other, was making tiny marks in the pages of
+      a book. She made with one hand a gesture requesting silence. Riccardo,
+      knowing that a person who is writing in cipher must not be interrupted,
+      sat down on the sofa behind her and yawned like a man who can hardly keep
+      awake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;2, 4; 3, 7; 6, 1; 3, 5; 4, 1;&rdquo; Gemma's voice went on with machine-like
+      evenness. &ldquo;8, 4; 7, 2; 5, 1; that finishes the sentence, Cesare.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stuck a pin into the paper to mark the exact place, and turned round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-morning, doctor; how fagged you look! Are you well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm well enough&mdash;only tired out. I've had an awful night with
+      Rivarez.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With Rivarez?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I've been up with him all night, and now I must go off to my
+      hospital patients. I just came round to know whether you can think of
+      anyone that could look after him a bit for the next few days. He's in a
+      devil of a state. I'll do my best, of course; but I really haven't the
+      time; and he won't hear of my sending in a nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, rather a complication of things. First of all&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First of all, have you had any breakfast?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, thank you. About Rivarez&mdash;no doubt, it's complicated with a lot
+      of nerve trouble; but the main cause of disturbance is an old injury that
+      seems to have been disgracefully neglected. Altogether, he's in a
+      frightfully knocked-about state; I suppose it was that war in South
+      America&mdash;and he certainly didn't get proper care when the mischief
+      was done. Probably things were managed in a very rough-and-ready fashion
+      out there; he's lucky to be alive at all. However, there's a chronic
+      tendency to inflammation, and any trifle may bring on an attack&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that dangerous?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;N-no; the chief danger in a case of that kind is of the patient getting
+      desperate and taking a dose of arsenic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very painful, of course?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's simply horrible; I don't know how he manages to bear it. I was
+      obliged to stupefy him with opium in the night&mdash;a thing I hate to do
+      with a nervous patient; but I had to stop it somehow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is nervous, I should think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very, but splendidly plucky. As long as he was not actually light-headed
+      with the pain last night, his coolness was quite wonderful. But I had an
+      awful job with him towards the end. How long do you suppose this thing has
+      been going on? Just five nights; and not a soul within call except that
+      stupid landlady, who wouldn't wake if the house tumbled down, and would be
+      no use if she did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what about the ballet-girl?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; isn't that a curious thing? He won't let her come near him. He has a
+      morbid horror of her. Altogether, he's one of the most incomprehensible
+      creatures I ever met&mdash;a perfect mass of contradictions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took out his watch and looked at it with a preoccupied face. &ldquo;I shall
+      be late at the hospital; but it can't be helped. The junior will have to
+      begin without me for once. I wish I had known of all this before&mdash;it
+      ought not to have been let go on that way night after night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why on earth didn't he send to say he was ill?&rdquo; Martini interrupted.
+      &ldquo;He might have guessed we shouldn't have left him stranded in that
+      fashion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish, doctor,&rdquo; said Gemma, &ldquo;that you had sent for one of us last night,
+      instead of wearing yourself out like this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear lady, I wanted to send round to Galli; but Rivarez got so frantic
+      at the suggestion that I didn't dare attempt it. When I asked him whether
+      there was anyone else he would like fetched, he looked at me for a minute,
+      as if he were scared out of his wits, and then put up both hands to his
+      eyes and said: 'Don't tell them; they will laugh!' He seemed quite
+      possessed with some fancy about people laughing at something. I couldn't
+      make out what; he kept talking Spanish; but patients do say the oddest
+      things sometimes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is with him now?&rdquo; asked Gemma.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one except the landlady and her maid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll go to him at once,&rdquo; said Martini.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. I'll look round again in the evening. You'll find a paper of
+      written directions in the table-drawer by the large window, and the opium
+      is on the shelf in the next room. If the pain comes on again, give him
+      another dose&mdash;not more than one; but don't leave the bottle where he
+      can get at it, whatever you do; he might be tempted to take too much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Martini entered the darkened room, the Gadfly turned his head round
+      quickly, and, holding out to him a burning hand, began, in a bad imitation
+      of his usual flippant manner:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, Martini! You have come to rout me out about those proofs. It's no use
+      swearing at me for missing the committee last night; the fact is, I have
+      not been quite well, and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind the committee. I have just seen Riccardo, and have come to
+      know if I can be of any use.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly set his face like a flint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, really! that is very kind of you; but it wasn't worth the trouble.
+      I'm only a little out of sorts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I understood from Riccardo. He was up with you all night, I believe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly bit his lip savagely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am quite comfortable, thank you, and don't want anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well; then I will sit in the other room; perhaps you would rather be
+      alone. I will leave the door ajar, in case you call me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't want anything. I should be
+      wasting your time for nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, man!&rdquo; Martini broke in roughly. &ldquo;What's the use of trying to
+      fool me that way? Do you think I have no eyes? Lie still and go to sleep,
+      if you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into the adjoining room, and, leaving the door open, sat down with
+      a book. Presently he heard the Gadfly move restlessly two or three times.
+      He put down his book and listened. There was a short silence, then another
+      restless movement; then the quick, heavy, panting breath of a man
+      clenching his teeth to suppress a groan. He went back into the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer, and he crossed the room to the bed-side. The Gadfly,
+      with a ghastly, livid face, looked at him for a moment, and silently shook
+      his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo said you were to have it if
+      the pain got very bad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer. It may be worse later on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini shrugged his shoulders and sat down beside the bed. For an
+      interminable hour he watched in silence; then he rose and fetched the
+      opium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if you can stand it, I can't.
+      You must have the stuff.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he turned away and closed his
+      eyes. Martini sat down again, and listened as the breathing became
+      gradually deep and even.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake easily when once asleep. Hour
+      after hour he lay absolutely motionless. Martini approached him several
+      times during the day and evening, and looked at the still figure; but,
+      except the breathing, there was no sign of life. The face was so wan and
+      colourless that at last a sudden fear seized upon him; what if he had
+      given too much opium? The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, and he
+      shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did so, the unfastened sleeve
+      fell back, showing a series of deep and fearful scars covering the arm
+      from wrist to elbow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That arm must have been in a pleasant condition when those marks were
+      fresh,&rdquo; said Riccardo's voice behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, there you are at last! Look here, Riccardo; ought this man to sleep
+      forever? I gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he hasn't moved a
+      muscle since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; he is breathing quite properly; it's nothing but sheer exhaustion&mdash;what
+      you might expect after such a night. There may be another paroxysm before
+      morning. Someone will sit up, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here by ten.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's nearly that now. Ah, he's waking! Just see the maidservant gets that
+      broth hot. Gently&mdash;gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn't fight,
+      man; I'm not a bishop!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly started up with a shrinking, scared look. &ldquo;Is it my turn?&rdquo; he
+      said hurriedly in Spanish. &ldquo;Keep the people amused a minute; I&mdash;&mdash;
+      Ah! I didn't see you, Riccardo.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked round the room and drew one hand across his forehead as if
+      bewildered. &ldquo;Martini! Why, I thought you had gone away. I must have been
+      asleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been sleeping like the beauty in the fairy story for the last
+      ten hours; and now you are to have some broth and go to sleep again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten hours! Martini, surely you haven't been here all that time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I was beginning to wonder whether I hadn't given you an overdose of
+      opium.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly shot a sly glance at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No such luck! Wouldn't you have nice quiet committee-meetings? What the
+      devil do you want, Riccardo? Do for mercy's sake leave me in peace, can't
+      you? I hate being mauled about by doctors.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well then, drink this and I'll leave you in peace. I shall come round in
+      a day or two, though, and give you a thorough overhauling. I think you
+      have pulled through the worst of this business now; you don't look quite
+      so much like a death's head at a feast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I shall be all right soon, thanks. Who's that&mdash;Galli? I seem to
+      have a collection of all the graces here to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have come to stop the night with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense! I don't want anyone. Go home, all the lot of you. Even if the
+      thing should come on again, you can't help me; I won't keep taking opium.
+      It's all very well once in a way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid you're right,&rdquo; Riccardo said. &ldquo;But that's not always an easy
+      resolution to stick to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly looked up, smiling. &ldquo;No fear! If I'd been going in for that
+      sort of thing, I should have done it long ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anyway, you are not going to be left alone,&rdquo; Riccardo answered drily.
+      &ldquo;Come into the other room a minute, Galli; I want to speak to you.
+      Good-night, Rivarez; I'll look in to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini was following them out of the room when he heard his name softly
+      called. The Gadfly was holding out a hand to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, stuff! Go to sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Riccardo had gone, Martini remained a few minutes in the outer room,
+      talking with Galli. As he opened the front door of the house he heard a
+      carriage stop at the garden gate and saw a woman's figure get out and come
+      up the path. It was Zita, returning, evidently, from some evening
+      entertainment. He lifted his hat and stood aside to let her pass, then
+      went out into the dark lane leading from the house to the Poggio
+      Imperiale. Presently the gate clicked and rapid footsteps came down the
+      lane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he turned back to meet her she stopped short, and then came slowly
+      towards him, dragging one hand after her along the hedge. There was a
+      single street-lamp at the corner, and he saw by its light that she was
+      hanging her head down as though embarrassed or ashamed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is he?&rdquo; she asked without looking up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Much better than he was this morning. He has been asleep most of the day
+      and seems less exhausted. I think the attack is passing over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She still kept her eyes on the ground.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has it been very bad this time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About as bad as it can well be, I should think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought so. When he won't let me come into the room, that always means
+      it's bad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he often have attacks like this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That depends&mdash;&mdash; It's so irregular. Last summer, in
+      Switzerland, he was quite well; but the winter before, when we were in
+      Vienna, it was awful. He wouldn't let me come near him for days together.
+      He hates to have me about when he's ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her eyes again, went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He always used to send me off to a ball, or concert, or something, on one
+      pretext or another, when he felt it coming on. Then he would lock himself
+      into his room. I used to slip back and sit outside the door&mdash;he would
+      have been furious if he'd known. He'd let the dog come in if it whined,
+      but not me. He cares more for it, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a curious, sullen defiance in her manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I hope it won't be so bad any more,&rdquo; said Martini kindly. &ldquo;Dr.
+      Riccardo is taking the case seriously in hand. Perhaps he will be able to
+      make a permanent improvement. And, in any case, the treatment gives relief
+      at the moment. But you had better send to us at once, another time. He
+      would have suffered very much less if we had known of it earlier.
+      Good-night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held out his hand, but she drew back with a quick gesture of refusal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see why you want to shake hands with his mistress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you like, of course,&rdquo; he began in embarrassment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stamped her foot on the ground. &ldquo;I hate you!&rdquo; she cried, turning on
+      him with eyes like glowing coals. &ldquo;I hate you all! You come here talking
+      politics to him; and he lets you sit up the night with him and give him
+      things to stop the pain, and I daren't so much as peep at him through the
+      door! What is he to you? What right have you to come and steal him away
+      from me? I hate you! I hate you! I HATE you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting back into the
+      garden, slammed the gate in his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good Heavens!&rdquo; said Martini to himself, as he walked down the lane. &ldquo;That
+      girl is actually in love with him! Of all the extraordinary things&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE Gadfly's recovery was rapid. One afternoon in the following week
+      Riccardo found him lying on the sofa in a Turkish dressing-gown, chatting
+      with Martini and Galli. He even talked about going downstairs; but
+      Riccardo merely laughed at the suggestion and asked whether he would like
+      a tramp across the valley to Fiesole to start with.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might go and call on the Grassinis for a change,&rdquo; he added wickedly.
+      &ldquo;I'm sure madame would be delighted to see you, especially now, when you
+      look so pale and interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly clasped his hands with a tragic gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bless my soul! I never thought of that! She'd take me for one of Italy's
+      martyrs, and talk patriotism to me. I should have to act up to the part,
+      and tell her I've been cut to pieces in an underground dungeon and stuck
+      together again rather badly; and she'd want to know exactly what the
+      process felt like. You don't think she'd believe it, Riccardo? I'll bet
+      you my Indian dagger against the bottled tape-worm in your den that she'll
+      swallow the biggest lie I can invent. That's a generous offer, and you'd
+      better jump at it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks, I'm not so fond of murderous tools as you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, a tape-worm is as murderous as a dagger, any day, and not half so
+      pretty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But as it happens, my dear fellow, I don't want the dagger and I do want
+      the tape-worm. Martini, I must run off. Are you in charge of this
+      obstreperous patient?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only till three o'clock. Galli and I have to go to San Miniato, and
+      Signora Bolla is coming till I can get back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signora Bolla!&rdquo; the Gadfly repeated in a tone of dismay. &ldquo;Why, Martini,
+      this will never do! I can't have a lady bothered over me and my ailments.
+      Besides, where is she to sit? She won't like to come in here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since when have you gone in so fiercely for the proprieties?&rdquo; asked
+      Riccardo, laughing. &ldquo;My good man, Signora Bolla is head nurse in general
+      to all of us. She has looked after sick people ever since she was in short
+      frocks, and does it better than any sister of mercy I know. Won't like to
+      come into your room! Why, you might be talking of the Grassini woman! I
+      needn't leave any directions if she's coming, Martini. Heart alive, it's
+      half-past two; I must be off!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Rivarez, take your physic before she comes,&rdquo; said Galli, approaching
+      the sofa with a medicine glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Damn the physic!&rdquo; The Gadfly had reached the irritable stage of
+      convalescence, and was inclined to give his devoted nurses a bad time.
+      &ldquo;W-what do you want to d-d-dose me with all sorts of horrors for now the
+      pain is gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just because I don't want it to come back. You wouldn't like it if you
+      collapsed when Signora Bolla is here and she had to give you opium.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My g-good sir, if that pain is going to come back it will come; it's not
+      a t-toothache to be frightened away with your trashy mixtures. They are
+      about as much use as a t-toy squirt for a house on fire. However, I
+      suppose you must have your way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took the glass with his left hand, and the sight of the terrible scars
+      recalled Galli to the former subject of conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; he asked; &ldquo;how did you get so much knocked about? In the
+      war, was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, didn't I just tell you it was a case of secret dungeons and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that version is for Signora Grassini's benefit. Really, I suppose it
+      was in the war with Brazil?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I got a bit hurt there; and then hunting in the savage districts and
+      one thing and another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes; on the scientific expedition. You can fasten your shirt; I have
+      quite done. You seem to have had an exciting time of it out there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, of course you can't live in savage countries without getting a few
+      adventures once in a way,&rdquo; said the Gadfly lightly; &ldquo;and you can hardly
+      expect them all to be pleasant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still, I don't understand how you managed to get so much knocked about
+      unless in a bad adventure with wild beasts&mdash;those scars on your left
+      arm, for instance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, that was in a puma-hunt. You see, I had fired&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a knock at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the room tidy, Martini? Yes? Then please open the door. This is really
+      most kind, signora; you must excuse my not getting up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you mustn't get up; I have not come as a caller. I am a little
+      early, Cesare. I thought perhaps you were in a hurry to go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can stop for a quarter of an hour. Let me put your cloak in the other
+      room. Shall I take the basket, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care; those are new-laid eggs. Katie brought them in from Monte
+      Oliveto this morning. There are some Christmas roses for you, Signor
+      Rivarez; I know you are fond of flowers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down beside the table and began clipping the stalks of the flowers
+      and arranging them in a vase.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Rivarez,&rdquo; said Galli; &ldquo;tell us the rest of the puma-hunt story; you
+      had just begun.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes! Galli was asking me about life in South America, signora; and I
+      was telling him how I came to get my left arm spoiled. It was in Peru. We
+      had been wading a river on a puma-hunt, and when I fired at the beast the
+      powder wouldn't go off; it had got splashed with water. Naturally the puma
+      didn't wait for me to rectify that; and this is the result.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That must have been a pleasant experience.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, not so bad! One must take the rough with the smooth, of course; but
+      it's a splendid life on the whole. Serpent-catching, for instance&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rattled on, telling anecdote after anecdote; now of the Argentine war,
+      now of the Brazilian expedition, now of hunting feats and adventures with
+      savages or wild beasts. Galli, with the delight of a child hearing a fairy
+      story, kept interrupting every moment to ask questions. He was of the
+      impressionable Neapolitan temperament and loved everything sensational.
+      Gemma took some knitting from her basket and listened silently, with busy
+      fingers and downcast eyes. Martini frowned and fidgeted. The manner in
+      which the anecdotes were told seemed to him boastful and self-conscious;
+      and, notwithstanding his unwilling admiration for a man who could endure
+      physical pain with the amazing fortitude which he had seen the week
+      before, he genuinely disliked the Gadfly and all his works and ways.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must have been a glorious life!&rdquo; sighed Galli with naive envy. &ldquo;I
+      wonder you ever made up your mind to leave Brazil. Other countries must
+      seem so flat after it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I was happiest in Peru and Ecuador,&rdquo; said the Gadfly. &ldquo;That
+      really is a magnificent tract of country. Of course it is very hot,
+      especially the coast district of Ecuador, and one has to rough it a bit;
+      but the scenery is superb beyond imagination.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe,&rdquo; said Galli, &ldquo;the perfect freedom of life in a barbarous
+      country would attract me more than any scenery. A man must feel his
+      personal, human dignity as he can never feel it in our crowded towns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; the Gadfly answered; &ldquo;that is&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma raised her eyes from her knitting and looked at him. He flushed
+      suddenly scarlet and broke off. There was a little pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely it is not come on again?&rdquo; asked Galli anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing to speak of, thanks to your s-s-soothing application that I
+      b-b-blasphemed against. Are you going already, Martini?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. Come along, Galli; we shall be late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma followed the two men out of the room, and presently returned with an
+      egg beaten up in milk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take this, please,&rdquo; she said with mild authority; and sat down again to
+      her knitting. The Gadfly obeyed meekly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For half an hour, neither spoke. Then the Gadfly said in a very low voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signora Bolla!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked up. He was tearing the fringe of the couch-rug, and kept his
+      eyes lowered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't believe I was speaking the truth just now,&rdquo; he began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had not the smallest doubt that you were telling falsehoods,&rdquo; she
+      answered quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were quite right. I was telling falsehoods all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean about the war?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About everything. I was not in that war at all; and as for the
+      expedition, I had a few adventures, of course, and most of those stories
+      are true, but it was not that way I got smashed. You have detected me in
+      one lie, so I may as well confess the lot, I suppose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does it not seem to you rather a waste of energy to invent so many
+      falsehoods?&rdquo; she asked. &ldquo;I should have thought it was hardly worth the
+      trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would you have? You know your own English proverb: 'Ask no questions
+      and you'll be told no lies.' It's no pleasure to me to fool people that
+      way, but I must answer them somehow when they ask what made a cripple of
+      me; and I may as well invent something pretty while I'm about it. You saw
+      how pleased Galli was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you prefer pleasing Galli to speaking the truth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The truth!&rdquo; He looked up with the torn fringe in his hand. &ldquo;You wouldn't
+      have me tell those people the truth? I'd cut my tongue out first!&rdquo; Then
+      with an awkward, shy abruptness:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never told it to anybody yet; but I'll tell you if you care to
+      hear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She silently laid down her knitting. To her there was something grievously
+      pathetic in this hard, secret, unlovable creature, suddenly flinging his
+      personal confidence at the feet of a woman whom he barely knew and whom he
+      apparently disliked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A long silence followed, and she looked up. He was leaning his left arm on
+      the little table beside him, and shading his eyes with the mutilated hand,
+      and she noticed the nervous tension of the fingers and the throbbing of
+      the scar on the wrist. She came up to him and called him softly by name.
+      He started violently and raised his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I f-forgot,&rdquo; he stammered apologetically. &ldquo;I was g-going to t-tell you
+      about&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About the&mdash;accident or whatever it was that caused your lameness.
+      But if it worries you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The accident? Oh, the smashing! Yes; only it wasn't an accident, it was a
+      poker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stared at him in blank amazement. He pushed back his hair with a hand
+      that shook perceptibly, and looked up at her, smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Won't you sit down? Bring your chair close, please. I'm so sorry I can't
+      get it for you. R-really, now I come to think of it, the case would have
+      been a p-perfect t-treasure-trove for Riccardo if he had had me to treat;
+      he has the true surgeon's love for broken bones, and I believe everything
+      in me that was breakable was broken on that occasion&mdash;except my
+      neck.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And your courage,&rdquo; she put in softly. &ldquo;But perhaps you count that among
+      your unbreakable possessions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook his head. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;my courage has been mended up after a
+      fashion, with the rest of me; but it was fairly broken then, like a
+      smashed tea-cup; that's the horrible part of it. Ah&mdash;&mdash; Yes;
+      well, I was telling you about the poker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was&mdash;let me see&mdash;nearly thirteen years ago, in Lima. I told
+      you Peru was a delightful country to live in; but it's not quite so nice
+      for people that happen to be at low water, as I was. I had been down in
+      the Argentine, and then in Chili, tramping the country and starving,
+      mostly; and had come up from Valparaiso as odd-man on a cattle-boat. I
+      couldn't get any work in Lima itself, so I went down to the docks,&mdash;they're
+      at Callao, you know,&mdash;to try there. Well of course in all those
+      shipping-ports there are low quarters where the sea-faring people
+      congregate; and after some time I got taken on as servant in one of the
+      gambling hells there. I had to do the cooking and billiard-marking, and
+      fetch drink for the sailors and their women, and all that sort of thing.
+      Not very pleasant work; still I was glad to get it; there was at least
+      food and the sight of human faces and sound of human tongues&mdash;of a
+      kind. You may think that was no advantage; but I had just been down with
+      yellow fever, alone in the outhouse of a wretched half-caste shanty, and
+      the thing had given me the horrors. Well, one night I was told to put out
+      a tipsy Lascar who was making himself obnoxious; he had come ashore and
+      lost all his money and was in a bad temper. Of course I had to obey if I
+      didn't want to lose my place and starve; but the man was twice as strong
+      as I&mdash;I was not twenty-one and as weak as a cat after the fever.
+      Besides, he had the poker.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused a moment, glancing furtively at her; then went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Apparently he intended to put an end to me altogether; but somehow he
+      managed to scamp his work&mdash;Lascars always do if they have a chance;
+      and left just enough of me not smashed to go on living with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but the other people, could they not interfere? Were they all afraid
+      of one Lascar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up and burst out laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;THE OTHER PEOPLE? The gamblers and the people of the house? Why, you
+      don't understand! They were negroes and Chinese and Heaven knows what; and
+      I was their servant&mdash;THEIR PROPERTY. They stood round and enjoyed the
+      fun, of course. That sort of thing counts for a good joke out there. So it
+      is if you don't happen to be the subject practised on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shuddered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then what was the end of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I can't tell you much about; a man doesn't remember the next few
+      days after a thing of that kind, as a rule. But there was a ship's surgeon
+      near, and it seems that when they found I was not dead, somebody called
+      him in. He patched me up after a fashion&mdash;Riccardo seems to think it
+      was rather badly done, but that may be professional jealousy. Anyhow, when
+      I came to my senses, an old native woman had taken me in for Christian
+      charity&mdash;that sounds queer, doesn't it? She used to sit huddled up in
+      the corner of the hut, smoking a black pipe and spitting on the floor and
+      crooning to herself. However, she meant well, and she told me I might die
+      in peace and nobody should disturb me. But the spirit of contradiction was
+      strong in me and I elected to live. It was rather a difficult job
+      scrambling back to life, and sometimes I am inclined to think it was a
+      great deal of cry for very little wool. Anyway that old woman's patience
+      was wonderful; she kept me&mdash;how long was it?&mdash;nearly four months
+      lying in her hut, raving like a mad thing at intervals, and as vicious as
+      a bear with a sore ear between-whiles. The pain was pretty bad, you see,
+      and my temper had been spoiled in childhood with overmuch coddling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, then&mdash;I got up somehow and crawled away. No, don't think it was
+      any delicacy about taking a poor woman's charity&mdash;I was past caring
+      for that; it was only that I couldn't bear the place any longer. You
+      talked just now about my courage; if you had seen me then! The worst of
+      the pain used to come on every evening, about dusk; and in the afternoon I
+      used to lie alone, and watch the sun get lower and lower&mdash;&mdash; Oh,
+      you can't understand! It makes me sick to look at a sunset now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A long pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then I went up country, to see if I could get work anywhere&mdash;it
+      would have driven me mad to stay in Lima. I got as far as Cuzco, and there&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+      Really I don't know why I'm inflicting all this ancient history on you; it
+      hasn't even the merit of being funny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised her head and looked at him with deep and serious eyes. &ldquo;PLEASE
+      don't talk that way,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bit his lip and tore off another piece of the rug-fringe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I go on?&rdquo; he asked after a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If&mdash;if you will. I am afraid it is horrible to you to remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think I forget when I hold my tongue? It's worse then. But don't
+      imagine it's the thing itself that haunts me so. It is the fact of having
+      lost the power over myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;don't think I quite understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean, it is the fact of having come to the end of my courage, to the
+      point where I found myself a coward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely there is a limit to what anyone can bear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and the man who has once reached that limit never knows when he may
+      reach it again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you mind telling me,&rdquo; she asked, hesitating, &ldquo;how you came to be
+      stranded out there alone at twenty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very simply: I had a good opening in life, at home in the old country,
+      and ran away from it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laughed again in his quick, harsh way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Because I was a priggish young cub, I suppose. I had been brought up
+      in an over-luxurious home, and coddled and faddled after till I thought
+      the world was made of pink cotton-wool and sugared almonds. Then one fine
+      day I found out that someone I had trusted had deceived me. Why, how you
+      start! What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing. Go on, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I found out that I had been tricked into believing a lie; a common bit of
+      experience, of course; but, as I tell you, I was young and priggish, and
+      thought that liars go to hell. So I ran away from home and plunged into
+      South America to sink or swim as I could, without a cent in my pocket or a
+      word of Spanish in my tongue, or anything but white hands and expensive
+      habits to get my bread with. And the natural result was that I got a dip
+      into the real hell to cure me of imagining sham ones. A pretty thorough
+      dip, too&mdash;it was just five years before the Duprez expedition came
+      along and pulled me out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Five years! Oh, that is terrible! And had you no friends?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friends! I&rdquo;&mdash;he turned on her with sudden fierceness&mdash;&ldquo;I have
+      NEVER had a friend!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The next instant he seemed a little ashamed of his vehemence, and went on
+      quickly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mustn't take all this too seriously; I dare say I made the worst of
+      things, and really it wasn't so bad the first year and a half; I was young
+      and strong and I managed to scramble along fairly well till the Lascar put
+      his mark on me. But after that I couldn't get work. It's wonderful what an
+      effectual tool a poker is if you handle it properly; and nobody cares to
+      employ a cripple.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of work did you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I could get. For some time I lived by odd-jobbing for the blacks on
+      the sugar plantations, fetching and carrying and so on. It's one of the
+      curious things in life, by the way, that slaves always contrive to have a
+      slave of their own, and there's nothing a negro likes so much as a white
+      fag to bully. But it was no use; the overseers always turned me off. I was
+      too lame to be quick; and I couldn't manage the heavy loads. And then I
+      was always getting these attacks of inflammation, or whatever the
+      confounded thing is.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;After some time I went down to the silver-mines and tried to get work
+      there; but it was all no good. The managers laughed at the very notion of
+      taking me on, and as for the men, they made a dead set at me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why was that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, human nature, I suppose; they saw I had only one hand that I could
+      hit back with. They're a mangy, half-caste lot; negroes and Zambos mostly.
+      And then those horrible coolies! So at last I got enough of that, and set
+      off to tramp the country at random; just wandering about, on the chance of
+      something turning up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To tramp? With that lame foot!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up with a sudden, piteous catching of the breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I was hungry,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned her head a little away and rested her chin on one hand. After a
+      moment's silence he began again, his voice sinking lower and lower as he
+      spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I tramped, and tramped, till I was nearly mad with tramping, and
+      nothing came of it. I got down into Ecuador, and there it was worse than
+      ever. Sometimes I'd get a bit of tinkering to do,&mdash;I'm a pretty fair
+      tinker,&mdash;or an errand to run, or a pigstye to clean out; sometimes I
+      did&mdash;oh, I hardly know what. And then at last, one day&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The slender, brown hand clenched itself suddenly on the table, and Gemma,
+      raising her head, glanced at him anxiously. His side-face was turned
+      towards her, and she could see a vein on the temple beating like a hammer,
+      with quick, irregular strokes. She bent forward and laid a gentle hand on
+      his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind the rest; it's almost too horrible to talk about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stared doubtfully at the hand, shook his head, and went on steadily:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then one day I met a travelling variety show. You remember that one the
+      other night; well, that sort of thing, only coarser and more indecent. The
+      Zambos are not like these gentle Florentines; they don't care for anything
+      that is not foul or brutal. There was bull-fighting, too, of course. They
+      had camped out by the roadside for the night; and I went up to their tent
+      to beg. Well, the weather was hot and I was half starved, and so&mdash;I
+      fainted at the door of the tent. I had a trick of fainting suddenly at
+      that time, like a boarding-school girl with tight stays. So they took me
+      in and gave me brandy, and food, and so on; and then&mdash;the next
+      morning&mdash;they offered me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another pause.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They wanted a hunchback, or monstrosity of some kind; for the boys to
+      pelt with orange-peel and banana-skins&mdash;something to set the blacks
+      laughing&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; You saw the clown that night&mdash;well, I
+      was that&mdash;for two years. I suppose you have a humanitarian feeling
+      about negroes and Chinese. Wait till you've been at their mercy!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I learned to do the tricks. I was not quite deformed enough; but
+      they set that right with an artificial hump and made the most of this foot
+      and arm&mdash;&mdash; And the Zambos are not critical; they're easily
+      satisfied if only they can get hold of some live thing to torture&mdash;the
+      fool's dress makes a good deal of difference, too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The only difficulty was that I was so often ill and unable to play.
+      Sometimes, if the manager was out of temper, he would insist on my coming
+      into the ring when I had these attacks on; and I believe the people liked
+      those evenings best. Once, I remember, I fainted right off with the pain
+      in the middle of the performance&mdash;&mdash; When I came to my senses
+      again, the audience had got round me&mdash;hooting and yelling and pelting
+      me with&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't! I can't hear any more! Stop, for God's sake!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was standing up with both hands over her ears. He broke off, and,
+      looking up, saw the glitter of tears in her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Damn it all, what an idiot I am!&rdquo; he said under his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She crossed the room and stood for a little while looking out of the
+      window. When she turned round, the Gadfly was again leaning on the table
+      and covering his eyes with one hand. He had evidently forgotten her
+      presence, and she sat down beside him without speaking. After a long
+      silence she said slowly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to ask you a question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo; without moving.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you not cut your throat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up in grave surprise. &ldquo;I did not expect YOU to ask that,&rdquo; he
+      said. &ldquo;And what about my work? Who would have done it for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your work&mdash;&mdash; Ah, I see! You talked just now about being a
+      coward; well, if you have come through that and kept to your purpose, you
+      are the very bravest man that I have ever met.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He covered his eyes again, and held her hand in a close passionate clasp.
+      A silence that seemed to have no end fell around them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly a clear and fresh soprano voice rang out from the garden below,
+      singing a verse of a doggerel French song:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;Eh, Pierrot! Danse, Pierrot!
+   Danse un peu, mon pauvre Jeannot!
+   Vive la danse et l'allegresse!
+   Jouissons de notre bell' jeunesse!
+   Si moi je pleure ou moi je soupire,
+   Si moi je fais la triste figure&mdash;
+   Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!
+   Ha! Ha, ha, ha!
+   Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      At the first words the Gadfly tore his hand from Gemma's and shrank away
+      with a stifled groan. She clasped both hands round his arm and pressed it
+      firmly, as she might have pressed that of a person undergoing a surgical
+      operation. When the song broke off and a chorus of laughter and applause
+      came from the garden, he looked up with the eyes of a tortured animal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is Zita,&rdquo; he said slowly; &ldquo;with her officer friends. She tried to
+      come in here the other night, before Riccardo came. I should have gone mad
+      if she had touched me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she does not know,&rdquo; Gemma protested softly. &ldquo;She cannot guess that
+      she is hurting you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is like a Creole,&rdquo; he answered, shuddering. &ldquo;Do you remember her face
+      that night when we brought in the beggar-child? That is how the
+      half-castes look when they laugh.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Another burst of laughter came from the garden. Gemma rose and opened the
+      window. Zita, with a gold-embroidered scarf wound coquettishly round her
+      head, was standing in the garden path, holding up a bunch of violets, for
+      the possession of which three young cavalry officers appeared to be
+      competing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mme. Reni!&rdquo; said Gemma.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zita's face darkened like a thunder-cloud. &ldquo;Madame?&rdquo; she said, turning and
+      raising her eyes with a defiant look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would your friends mind speaking a little more softly? Signor Rivarez is
+      very unwell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gipsy flung down her violets. &ldquo;Allez-vous en!&rdquo; she said, turning
+      sharply on the astonished officers. &ldquo;Vous m'embetez, messieurs!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went slowly out into the road. Gemma closed the window.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They have gone away,&rdquo; she said, turning to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. I&mdash;I am sorry to have troubled you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was no trouble.&rdquo; He at once detected the hesitation in her voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'But?'&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That sentence was not finished, signora; there was an
+      unspoken 'but' in the back of your mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you look into the backs of people's minds, you mustn't be offended at
+      what you read there. It is not my affair, of course, but I cannot
+      understand&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My aversion to Mme. Reni? It is only when&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, your caring to live with her when you feel that aversion. It seems to
+      me an insult to her as a woman and as&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A woman!&rdquo; He burst out laughing harshly. &ldquo;Is THAT what you call a woman?
+      'Madame, ce n'est que pour rire!'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is not fair!&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You have no right to speak of her in that
+      way to anyone&mdash;especially to another woman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away, and lay with wide-open eyes, looking out of the window at
+      the sinking sun. She lowered the blind and closed the shutters, that he
+      might not see it set; then sat down at the table by the other window and
+      took up her knitting again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you like the lamp?&rdquo; she asked after a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When it grew too dark to see, Gemma rolled up her knitting and laid it in
+      the basket. For some time she sat with folded hands, silently watching the
+      Gadfly's motionless figure. The dim evening light, falling on his face,
+      seemed to soften away its hard, mocking, self-assertive look, and to
+      deepen the tragic lines about the mouth. By some fanciful association of
+      ideas her memory went vividly back to the stone cross which her father had
+      set up in memory of Arthur, and to its inscription:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+  &ldquo;All thy waves and billows have gone over me.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      An hour passed in unbroken silence. At last she rose and went softly out
+      of the room. Coming back with a lamp, she paused for a moment, thinking
+      that the Gadfly was asleep. As the light fell on his face he turned round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have made you a cup of coffee,&rdquo; she said, setting down the lamp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put it down a minute. Will you come here, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took both her hands in his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been thinking,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You are quite right; it is an ugly
+      tangle I have got my life into. But remember, a man does not meet every
+      day a woman whom he can&mdash;love; and I&mdash;I have been in deep
+      waters. I am afraid&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Afraid&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of the dark. Sometimes I DARE not be alone at night. I must have
+      something living&mdash;something solid beside me. It is the outer
+      darkness, where shall be&mdash;&mdash; No, no! It's not that; that's a
+      sixpenny toy hell;&mdash;it's the INNER darkness. There's no weeping or
+      gnashing of teeth there; only silence&mdash;silence&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His eyes dilated. She was quite still, hardly breathing till he spoke
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is all mystification to you, isn't it? You can't understand&mdash;luckily
+      for you. What I mean is that I have a pretty fair chance of going mad if I
+      try to live quite alone&mdash;&mdash; Don't think too hardly of me, if you
+      can help it; I am not altogether the vicious brute you perhaps imagine me
+      to be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot try to judge for you,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;I have not suffered as you
+      have. But&mdash;I have been in rather deep water too, in another way; and
+      I think&mdash;I am sure&mdash;that if you let the fear of anything drive
+      you to do a really cruel or unjust or ungenerous thing, you will regret it
+      afterwards. For the rest&mdash;if you have failed in this one thing, I
+      know that I, in your place, should have failed altogether,&mdash;should
+      have cursed God and died.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He still kept her hands in his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; he said very softly; &ldquo;have you ever in your life done a really
+      cruel thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not answer, but her head sank down, and two great tears fell on
+      his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me!&rdquo; he whispered passionately, clasping her hands tighter. &ldquo;Tell
+      me! I have told you all my misery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&mdash;once,&mdash;long ago. And I did it to the person I loved best
+      in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hands that clasped hers were trembling violently; but they did not
+      loosen their hold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was a comrade,&rdquo; she went on; &ldquo;and I believed a slander against him,&mdash;a
+      common glaring lie that the police had invented. I struck him in the face
+      for a traitor; and he went away and drowned himself. Then, two days later,
+      I found out that he had been quite innocent. Perhaps that is a worse
+      memory than any of yours. I would cut off my right hand to undo what it
+      has done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Something swift and dangerous&mdash;something that she had not seen
+      before,&mdash;flashed into his eyes. He bent his head down with a furtive,
+      sudden gesture and kissed the hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew back with a startled face. &ldquo;Don't!&rdquo; she cried out piteously.
+      &ldquo;Please don't ever do that again! You hurt me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think you didn't hurt the man you killed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The man I&mdash;killed&mdash;&mdash; Ah, there is Cesare at the gate at
+      last! I&mdash;I must go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      When Martini came into the room he found the Gadfly lying alone with the
+      untouched coffee beside him, swearing softly to himself in a languid,
+      spiritless way, as though he got no satisfaction out of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A FEW days later, the Gadfly, still rather pale and limping more than
+      usual, entered the reading room of the public library and asked for
+      Cardinal Montanelli's sermons. Riccardo, who was reading at a table near
+      him, looked up. He liked the Gadfly very much, but could not digest this
+      one trait in him&mdash;this curious personal maliciousness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you preparing another volley against that unlucky Cardinal?&rdquo; he asked
+      half irritably.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow, why do you a-a-always attribute evil m-m-motives to
+      people? It's m-most unchristian. I am preparing an essay on contemporary
+      theology for the n-n-new paper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What new paper?&rdquo; Riccardo frowned. It was perhaps an open secret that a
+      new press-law was expected and that the Opposition was preparing to
+      astonish the town with a radical newspaper; but still it was, formally, a
+      secret.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Swindlers' Gazette, of course, or the Church Calendar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sh-sh! Rivarez, we are disturbing the other readers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well then, stick to your surgery, if that's your subject, and l-l-leave
+      me to th-theology&mdash;that's mine. I d-d-don't interfere with your
+      treatment of broken bones, though I know a p-p-precious lot more about
+      them than you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down to his volume of sermons with an intent and preoccupied face.
+      One of the librarians came up to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez! I think you were in the Duprez expedition, exploring the
+      tributaries of the Amazon? Perhaps you will kindly help us in a
+      difficulty. A lady has been inquiring for the records of the expedition,
+      and they are at the binder's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does she want to know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only in what year the expedition started and when it passed through
+      Ecuador.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It started from Paris in the autumn of 1837, and passed through Quito in
+      April, 1838. We were three years in Brazil; then went down to Rio and got
+      back to Paris in the summer of 1841. Does the lady want the dates of the
+      separate discoveries?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thank you; only these. I have written them down. Beppo, take this
+      paper to Signora Bolla, please. Many thanks, Signor Rivarez. I am sorry to
+      have troubled you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly leaned back in his chair with a perplexed frown. What did she
+      want the dates for? When they passed through Ecuador&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma went home with the slip of paper in her hand. April, 1838&mdash;and
+      Arthur had died in May, 1833. Five years&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She began pacing up and down her room. She had slept badly the last few
+      nights, and there were dark shadows under her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five years;&mdash;and an &ldquo;overluxurious home&rdquo;&mdash;and &ldquo;someone he had
+      trusted had deceived him&rdquo;&mdash;had deceived him&mdash;and he had found it
+      out&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped and put up both hands to her head. Oh, this was utterly mad&mdash;it
+      was not possible&mdash;it was absurd&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet, how they had dragged that harbour!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five years&mdash;and he was &ldquo;not twenty-one&rdquo; when the Lascar&mdash;&mdash;
+      Then he must have been nineteen when he ran away from home. Had he not
+      said: &ldquo;A year and a half&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Where did he get those blue eyes
+      from, and that nervous restlessness of the fingers? And why was he so
+      bitter against Montanelli? Five years&mdash;five years&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If she could but know that he was drowned&mdash;if she could but have seen
+      the body; some day, surely, the old wound would have left off aching, the
+      old memory would have lost its terrors. Perhaps in another twenty years
+      she would have learned to look back without shrinking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All her youth had been poisoned by the thought of what she had done.
+      Resolutely, day after day and year after year, she had fought against the
+      demon of remorse. Always she had remembered that her work lay in the
+      future; always had shut her eyes and ears to the haunting spectre of the
+      past. And day after day, year after year, the image of the drowned body
+      drifting out to sea had never left her, and the bitter cry that she could
+      not silence had risen in her heart: &ldquo;I have killed Arthur! Arthur is
+      dead!&rdquo; Sometimes it had seemed to her that her burden was too heavy to be
+      borne.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now she would have given half her life to have that burden back again. If
+      she had killed him&mdash;that was a familiar grief; she had endured it too
+      long to sink under it now. But if she had driven him, not into the water
+      but into&mdash;&mdash;&mdash; She sat down, covering her eyes with both
+      hands. And her life had been darkened for his sake, because he was dead!
+      If she had brought upon him nothing worse than death&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Steadily, pitilessly she went back, step by step, through the hell of his
+      past life. It was as vivid to her as though she had seen and felt it all;
+      the helpless shivering of the naked soul, the mockery that was bitterer
+      than death, the horror of loneliness, the slow, grinding, relentless
+      agony. It was as vivid as if she had sat beside him in the filthy Indian
+      hut; as if she had suffered with him in the silver-mines, the coffee
+      fields, the horrible variety show&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The variety show&mdash;&mdash; No, she must shut out that image, at least;
+      it was enough to drive one mad to sit and think of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She opened a little drawer in her writing-desk. It contained the few
+      personal relics which she could not bring herself to destroy. She was not
+      given to the hoarding up of sentimental trifles; and the preservation of
+      these keepsakes was a concession to that weaker side of her nature which
+      she kept under with so steady a hand. She very seldom allowed herself to
+      look at them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now she took them out, one after another: Giovanni's first letter to her,
+      and the flowers that had lain in his dead hand; a lock of her baby's hair
+      and a withered leaf from her father's grave. At the back of the drawer was
+      a miniature portrait of Arthur at ten years old&mdash;the only existing
+      likeness of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down with it in her hands and looked at the beautiful childish
+      head, till the face of the real Arthur rose up afresh before her. How
+      clear it was in every detail! The sensitive lines of the mouth, the wide,
+      earnest eyes, the seraphic purity of expression&mdash;they were graven in
+      upon her memory, as though he had died yesterday. Slowly the blinding
+      tears welled up and hid the portrait.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh, how could she have thought such a thing! It was like sacrilege even to
+      dream of this bright, far-off spirit, bound to the sordid miseries of
+      life. Surely the gods had loved him a little, and had let him die young!
+      Better a thousand times that he should pass into utter nothingness than
+      that he should live and be the Gadfly&mdash;the Gadfly, with his faultless
+      neckties and his doubtful witticisms, his bitter tongue and his ballet
+      girl! No, no! It was all a horrible, senseless fancy; and she had vexed
+      her heart with vain imaginings. Arthur was dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I come in?&rdquo; asked a soft voice at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She started so that the portrait fell from her hand, and the Gadfly,
+      limping across the room, picked it up and handed it to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How you startled me!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am s-so sorry. Perhaps I am disturbing you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I was only turning over some old things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hesitated for a moment; then handed him back the miniature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think of that head?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he looked at it she watched his face as though her life depended
+      upon its expression; but it was merely negative and critical.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have set me a difficult task,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The portrait is faded, and a
+      child's face is always hard to read. But I should think that child would
+      grow into an unlucky man, and the wisest thing he could do would be to
+      abstain from growing into a man at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at the line of the under-lip. Th-th-that is the sort of nature that
+      feels pain as pain and wrong as wrong; and the world has no r-r-room for
+      such people; it needs people who feel nothing but their work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it at all like anyone you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at the portrait more closely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. What a curious thing! Of course it is; very like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Like whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;C-c-cardinal Montan-nelli. I wonder whether his irreproachable Eminence
+      has any nephews, by the way? Who is it, if I may ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a portrait, taken in childhood, of the friend I told you about the
+      other day&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whom you killed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She winced in spite of herself. How lightly, how cruelly he used that
+      dreadful word!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, whom I killed&mdash;if he is really dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She kept her eyes on his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have sometimes doubted,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;The body was never found. He may
+      have run away from home, like you, and gone to South America.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us hope not. That would be a bad memory to carry about with you. I
+      have d-d-done some hard fighting in my t-time, and have sent m-more than
+      one man to Hades, perhaps; but if I had it on my conscience that I had
+      sent any l-living thing to South America, I should sleep badly&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do you believe,&rdquo; she interrupted, coming nearer to him with clasped
+      hands, &ldquo;that if he were not drowned,&mdash;if he had been through your
+      experience instead,&mdash;he would never come back and let the past go? Do
+      you believe he would NEVER forget? Remember, it has cost me something,
+      too. Look!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She pushed back the heavy waves of hair from her forehead. Through the
+      black locks ran a broad white streak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a long silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; the Gadfly said slowly, &ldquo;that the dead are better dead.
+      Forgetting some things is a difficult matter. And if I were in the place
+      of your dead friend, I would s-s-stay dead. The REVENANT is an ugly
+      spectre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put the portrait back into its drawer and locked the desk.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is hard doctrine,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;And now we will talk about something
+      else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came to have a little business talk with you, if I may&mdash;a private
+      one, about a plan that I have in my head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew a chair to the table and sat down. &ldquo;What do you think of the
+      projected press-law?&rdquo; he began, without a trace of his usual stammer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I think of it? I think it will not be of much value, but half a loaf
+      is better than no bread.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Undoubtedly. Then do you intend to work on one of the new papers these
+      good folk here are preparing to start?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought of doing so. There is always a great deal of practical work to
+      be done in starting any paper&mdash;printing and circulation arrangements
+      and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long are you going to waste your mental gifts in that fashion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why 'waste'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because it is waste. You know quite well that you have a far better head
+      than most of the men you are working with, and you let them make a regular
+      drudge and Johannes factotum of you. Intellectually you are as far ahead
+      of Grassini and Galli as if they were schoolboys; yet you sit correcting
+      their proofs like a printer's devil.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the first place, I don't spend all my time in correcting proofs; and
+      moreover it seems to me that you exaggerate my mental capacities. They are
+      by no means so brilliant as you think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think them brilliant at all,&rdquo; he answered quietly; &ldquo;but I do
+      think them sound and solid, which is of much more importance. At those
+      dreary committee meetings it is always you who put your finger on the weak
+      spot in everybody's logic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not fair to the others. Martini, for instance, has a very logical
+      head, and there is no doubt about the capacities of Fabrizi and Lega. Then
+      Grassini has a sounder knowledge of Italian economic statistics than any
+      official in the country, perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that's not saying much; but let us lay them and their capacities
+      aside. The fact remains that you, with such gifts as you possess, might do
+      more important work and fill a more responsible post than at present.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am quite satisfied with my position. The work I am doing is not of very
+      much value, perhaps, but we all do what we can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signora Bolla, you and I have gone too far to play at compliments and
+      modest denials now. Tell me honestly, do you recognize that you are using
+      up your brain on work which persons inferior to you could do as well?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since you press me for an answer&mdash;yes, to some extent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why do you let that go on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you let it go on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&mdash;I can't help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked up reproachfully. &ldquo;That is unkind&mdash;it's not fair to press
+      me so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But all the same you are going to tell me why.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you must have it, then&mdash;because my life has been smashed into
+      pieces, and I have not the energy to start anything REAL, now. I am about
+      fit to be a revolutionary cab-horse, and do the party's drudge-work. At
+      least I do it conscientiously, and it must be done by somebody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly it must be done by somebody; but not always by the same
+      person.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's about all I'm fit for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her with half-shut eyes, inscrutably. Presently she raised
+      her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are returning to the old subject; and this was to be a business talk.
+      It is quite useless, I assure you, to tell me I might have done all sorts
+      of things. I shall never do them now. But I may be able to help you in
+      thinking out your plan. What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You begin by telling me that it is useless for me to suggest anything,
+      and then ask what I want to suggest. My plan requires your help in action,
+      not only in thinking out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me hear it and then we will discuss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me first whether you have heard anything about schemes for a rising
+      in Venetia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard of nothing but schemes for risings and Sanfedist plots ever
+      since the amnesty, and I fear I am as sceptical about the one as about the
+      other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So am I, in most cases; but I am speaking of really serious preparations
+      for a rising of the whole province against the Austrians. A good many
+      young fellows in the Papal States&mdash;particularly in the Four Legations&mdash;are
+      secretly preparing to get across there and join as volunteers. And I hear
+      from my friends in the Romagna&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; she interrupted, &ldquo;are you quite sure that these friends of
+      yours can be trusted?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite sure. I know them personally, and have worked with them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is, they are members of the 'sect' to which you belong? Forgive my
+      scepticism, but I am always a little doubtful as to the accuracy of
+      information received from secret societies. It seems to me that the habit&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who told you I belonged to a 'sect'?&rdquo; he interrupted sharply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one; I guessed it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; He leaned back in his chair and looked at her, frowning. &ldquo;Do you
+      always guess people's private affairs?&rdquo; he said after a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very often. I am rather observant, and have a habit of putting things
+      together. I tell you that so that you may be careful when you don't want
+      me to know a thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mind your knowing anything so long as it goes no further. I
+      suppose this has not&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She lifted her head with a gesture of half-offended surprise. &ldquo;Surely that
+      is an unnecessary question!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I know you would not speak of anything to outsiders; but I
+      thought that perhaps, to the members of your party&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The party's business is with facts, not with my personal conjectures and
+      fancies. Of course I have never mentioned the subject to anyone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. Do you happen to have guessed which sect I belong to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope&mdash;you must not take offence at my frankness; it was you who
+      started this talk, you know&mdash;&mdash; I do hope it is not the
+      'Knifers.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you hope that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because you are fit for better things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are all fit for better things than we ever do. There is your own
+      answer back again. However, it is not the 'Knifers' that I belong to, but
+      the 'Red Girdles.' They are a steadier lot, and take their work more
+      seriously.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean the work of knifing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That, among other things. Knives are very useful in their way; but only
+      when you have a good, organized propaganda behind them. That is what I
+      dislike in the other sect. They think a knife can settle all the world's
+      difficulties; and that's a mistake. It can settle a good many, but not
+      all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you honestly believe that it settles any?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at her in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; she went on, &ldquo;it eliminates, for the moment, the practical
+      difficulty caused by the presence of a clever spy or objectionable
+      official; but whether it does not create worse difficulties in place of
+      the one removed is another question. It seems to me like the parable of
+      the swept and garnished house and the seven devils. Every assassination
+      only makes the police more vicious and the people more accustomed to
+      violence and brutality, and the last state of the community may be worse
+      than the first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think will happen when the revolution comes? Do you suppose
+      the people won't have to get accustomed to violence then? War is war.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but open revolution is another matter. It is one moment in the
+      people's life, and it is the price we have to pay for all our progress. No
+      doubt fearful things will happen; they must in every revolution. But they
+      will be isolated facts&mdash;exceptional features of an exceptional
+      moment. The horrible thing about this promiscuous knifing is that it
+      becomes a habit. The people get to look upon it as an every-day
+      occurrence, and their sense of the sacredness of human life gets blunted.
+      I have not been much in the Romagna, but what little I have seen of the
+      people has given me the impression that they have got, or are getting,
+      into a mechanical habit of violence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely even that is better than a mechanical habit of obedience and
+      submission.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think so. All mechanical habits are bad and slavish, and this one
+      is ferocious as well. Of course, if you look upon the work of the
+      revolutionist as the mere wresting of certain definite concessions from
+      the government, then the secret sect and the knife must seem to you the
+      best weapons, for there is nothing else which all governments so dread.
+      But if you think, as I do, that to force the government's hand is not an
+      end in itself, but only a means to an end, and that what we really need to
+      reform is the relation between man and man, then you must go differently
+      to work. Accustoming ignorant people to the sight of blood is not the way
+      to raise the value they put on human life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the value they put on religion?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think we differ as to where the root of the mischief lies. You place it
+      in a lack of appreciation of the value of human life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather of the sacredness of human personality.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put it as you like. To me the great cause of our muddles and mistakes
+      seems to lie in the mental disease called religion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean any religion in particular?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! That is a mere question of external symptoms. The disease itself
+      is what is called a religious attitude of mind. It is the morbid desire to
+      set up a fetich and adore it, to fall down and worship something. It makes
+      little difference whether the something be Jesus or Buddha or a tum-tum
+      tree. You don't agree with me, of course. You may be atheist or agnostic
+      or anything you like, but I could feel the religious temperament in you at
+      five yards. However, it is of no use for us to discuss that. But you are
+      quite mistaken in thinking that I, for one, look upon the knifing as
+      merely a means of removing objectionable officials&mdash;it is, above all,
+      a means, and I think the best means, of undermining the prestige of the
+      Church and of accustoming people to look upon clerical agents as upon any
+      other vermin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when you have accomplished that; when you have roused the wild beast
+      that sleeps in the people and set it on the Church; then&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I shall have done the work that makes it worth my while to live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is THAT the work you spoke of the other day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, just that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shivered and turned away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are disappointed in me?&rdquo; he said, looking up with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; not exactly that. I am&mdash;I think&mdash;a little afraid of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She turned round after a moment and said in her ordinary business voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is an unprofitable discussion. Our standpoints are too different.
+      For my part, I believe in propaganda, propaganda, and propaganda; and when
+      you can get it, open insurrection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let us come back to the question of my plan; it has something to do
+      with propaganda and more with insurrection.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As I tell you, a good many volunteers are going from the Romagna to join
+      the Venetians. We do not know yet how soon the insurrection will break
+      out. It may not be till the autumn or winter; but the volunteers in the
+      Apennines must be armed and ready, so that they may be able to start for
+      the plains directly they are sent for. I have undertaken to smuggle the
+      firearms and ammunition on to Papal territory for them&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute. How do you come to be working with that set? The
+      revolutionists in Lombardy and Venetia are all in favour of the new Pope.
+      They are going in for liberal reforms, hand in hand with the progressive
+      movement in the Church. How can a 'no-compromise' anti-clerical like you
+      get on with them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shrugged his shoulders. &ldquo;What is it to me if they like to amuse
+      themselves with a rag-doll, so long as they do their work? Of course they
+      will take the Pope for a figurehead. What have I to do with that, if only
+      the insurrection gets under way somehow? Any stick will do to beat a dog
+      with, I suppose, and any cry to set the people on the Austrians.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it you want me to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chiefly to help me get the firearms across.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how could I do that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are just the person who could do it best. I think of buying the arms
+      in England, and there is a good deal of difficulty about bringing them
+      over. It's impossible to get them through any of the Pontifical sea-ports;
+      they must come by Tuscany, and go across the Apennines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That makes two frontiers to cross instead of one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but the other way is hopeless; you can't smuggle a big transport in
+      at a harbour where there is no trade, and you know the whole shipping of
+      Civita Vecchia amounts to about three row-boats and a fishing smack. If we
+      once get the things across Tuscany, I can manage the Papal frontier; my
+      men know every path in the mountains, and we have plenty of hiding-places.
+      The transport must come by sea to Leghorn, and that is my great
+      difficulty; I am not in with the smugglers there, and I believe you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me five minutes to think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She leaned forward, resting one elbow on her knee, and supporting the chin
+      on the raised hand. After a few moments' silence she looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is possible that I might be of some use in that part of the work,&rdquo; she
+      said; &ldquo;but before we go any further, I want to ask you a question. Can you
+      give me your word that this business is not connected with any stabbing or
+      secret violence of any kind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly. It goes without saying that I should not have asked you to
+      join in a thing of which I know you disapprove.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When do you want a definite answer from me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is not much time to lose; but I can give you a few days to decide
+      in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you free next Saturday evening?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me see&mdash;to-day is Thursday; yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then come here. I will think the matter over and give you a final
+      answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      On the following Sunday Gemma sent in to the committee of the Florentine
+      branch of the Mazzinian party a statement that she wished to undertake a
+      special work of a political nature, which would for a few months prevent
+      her from performing the functions for which she had up till now been
+      responsible to the party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some surprise was felt at this announcement, but the committee raised no
+      objection; she had been known in the party for several years as a person
+      whose judgment might be trusted; and the members agreed that if Signora
+      Bolla took an unexpected step, she probably had good reasons for it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To Martini she said frankly that she had undertaken to help the Gadfly
+      with some &ldquo;frontier work.&rdquo; She had stipulated for the right to tell her
+      old friend this much, in order that there might be no misunderstanding or
+      painful sense of doubt and mystery between them. It seemed to her that she
+      owed him this proof of confidence. He made no comment when she told him;
+      but she saw, without knowing why, that the news had wounded him deeply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were sitting on the terrace of her lodging, looking out over the red
+      roofs to Fiesole. After a long silence, Martini rose and began tramping up
+      and down with his hands in his pockets, whistling to himself&mdash;a sure
+      sign with him of mental agitation. She sat looking at him for a little
+      while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cesare, you are worried about this affair,&rdquo; she said at last. &ldquo;I am very
+      sorry you feel so despondent over it; but I could decide only as seemed
+      right to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not the affair,&rdquo; he answered, sullenly; &ldquo;I know nothing about it,
+      and it probably is all right, once you have consented to go into it. It's
+      the MAN I distrust.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you misunderstand him; I did till I got to know him better. He is
+      far from perfect, but there is much more good in him than you think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very likely.&rdquo; For a moment he tramped to and fro in silence, then
+      suddenly stopped beside her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma, give it up! Give it up before it is too late! Don't let that man
+      drag you into things you will repent afterwards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cesare,&rdquo; she said gently, &ldquo;you are not thinking what you are saying. No
+      one is dragging me into anything. I have made this decision of my own
+      will, after thinking the matter well over alone. You have a personal
+      dislike to Rivarez, I know; but we are talking of politics now, not of
+      persons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madonna! Give it up! That man is dangerous; he is secret, and cruel, and
+      unscrupulous&mdash;and he is in love with you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She drew back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cesare, how can you get such fancies into your head?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is in love with you,&rdquo; Martini repeated. &ldquo;Keep clear of him, Madonna!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Cesare, I can't keep clear of him; and I can't explain to you why.
+      We are tied together&mdash;not by any wish or doing of our own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you are tied, there is nothing more to say,&rdquo; Martini answered wearily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went away, saying that he was busy, and tramped for hours up and down
+      the muddy streets. The world looked very black to him that evening. One
+      poor ewe-lamb&mdash;and this slippery creature had stepped in and stolen
+      it away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      TOWARDS the middle of February the Gadfly went to Leghorn. Gemma had
+      introduced him to a young Englishman there, a shipping-agent of liberal
+      views, whom she and her husband had known in England. He had on several
+      occasions performed little services for the Florentine radicals: had lent
+      money to meet an unforeseen emergency, had allowed his business address to
+      be used for the party's letters, etc.; but always through Gemma's
+      mediumship, and as a private friend of hers. She was, therefore, according
+      to party etiquette, free to make use of the connexion in any way that
+      might seem good to her. Whether any use could be got out of it was quite
+      another question. To ask a friendly sympathizer to lend his address for
+      letters from Sicily or to keep a few documents in a corner of his
+      counting-house safe was one thing; to ask him to smuggle over a transport
+      of firearms for an insurrection was another; and she had very little hope
+      of his consenting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can but try,&rdquo; she had said to the Gadfly; &ldquo;but I don't think anything
+      will come of it. If you were to go to him with that recommendation and ask
+      for five hundred scudi, I dare say he'd give them to you at once&mdash;he's
+      exceedingly generous,&mdash;and perhaps at a pinch he would lend you his
+      passport or hide a fugitive in his cellar; but if you mention such a thing
+      as rifles he will stare at you and think we're both demented.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps he may give me a few hints, though, or introduce me to a friendly
+      sailor or two,&rdquo; the Gadfly had answered. &ldquo;Anyway, it's worth while to
+      try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One day at the end of the month he came into her study less carefully
+      dressed than usual, and she saw at once from his face that he had good
+      news to tell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, at last! I was beginning to think something must have happened to
+      you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought it safer not to write, and I couldn't get back sooner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have just arrived?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I am straight from the diligence; I looked in to tell you that the
+      affair is all settled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you mean that Bailey has really consented to help?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More than to help; he has undertaken the whole thing,&mdash;packing,
+      transports,&mdash;everything. The rifles will be hidden in bales of
+      merchandise and will come straight through from England. His partner,
+      Williams, who is a great friend of his, has consented to see the transport
+      off from Southampton, and Bailey will slip it through the custom house at
+      Leghorn. That is why I have been such a long time; Williams was just
+      starting for Southampton, and I went with him as far as Genoa.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To talk over details on the way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, as long as I wasn't too sea-sick to talk about anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you a bad sailor?&rdquo; she asked quickly, remembering how Arthur had
+      suffered from sea-sickness one day when her father had taken them both for
+      a pleasure-trip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About as bad as is possible, in spite of having been at sea so much. But
+      we had a talk while they were loading at Genoa. You know Williams, I
+      think? He's a thoroughly good fellow, trustworthy and sensible; so is
+      Bailey, for that matter; and they both know how to hold their tongues.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems to me, though, that Bailey is running a serious risk in doing a
+      thing like this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I told him, and he only looked sulky and said: 'What business is that
+      of yours?' Just the sort of thing one would expect him to say. If I met
+      Bailey in Timbuctoo, I should go up to him and say: 'Good-morning,
+      Englishman.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I can't conceive how you managed to get their consent; Williams, too;
+      the last man I should have thought of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he objected strongly at first; not on the ground of danger, though,
+      but because the thing is 'so unbusiness-like.' But I managed to win him
+      over after a bit. And now we will go into details.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      When the Gadfly reached his lodgings the sun had set, and the blossoming
+      pyrus japonica that hung over the garden wall looked dark in the fading
+      light. He gathered a few sprays and carried them into the house. As he
+      opened the study door, Zita started up from a chair in the corner and ran
+      towards him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Felice; I thought you were never coming!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His first impulse was to ask her sharply what business she had in his
+      study; but, remembering that he had not seen her for three weeks, he held
+      out his hand and said, rather frigidly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening, Zita; how are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put up her face to be kissed, but he moved past as though he had not
+      seen the gesture, and took up a vase to put the pyrus in. The next instant
+      the door was flung wide open, and the collie, rushing into the room,
+      performed an ecstatic dance round him, barking and whining with delight.
+      He put down the flowers and stooped to pat the dog.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Shaitan, how are you, old man? Yes, it's really I. Shake hands,
+      like a good dog!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hard, sullen look came into Zita's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall we go to dinner?&rdquo; she asked coldly. &ldquo;I ordered it for you at my
+      place, as you wrote that you were coming this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned round quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am v-v-very sorry; you sh-should not have waited for me! I will just
+      get a bit tidy and come round at once. P-perhaps you would not mind
+      putting these into water.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When he came into Zita's dining room she was standing before a mirror,
+      fastening one of the sprays into her dress. She had apparently made up her
+      mind to be good-humoured, and came up to him with a little cluster of
+      crimson buds tied together.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here is a buttonhole for you; let me put it in your coat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All through dinner-time he did his best to be amiable, and kept up a flow
+      of small-talk, to which she responded with radiant smiles. Her evident joy
+      at his return somewhat embarrassed him; he had grown so accustomed to the
+      idea that she led her own life apart from his, among such friends and
+      companions as were congenial to her, that it had never occurred to him to
+      imagine her as missing him. And yet she must have felt dull to be so much
+      excited now.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us have coffee up on the terrace,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;it is quite warm this
+      evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. Shall I take your guitar? Perhaps you will sing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flushed with delight; he was critical about music and did not often
+      ask her to sing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On the terrace was a broad wooden bench running round the walls. The
+      Gadfly chose a corner with a good view of the hills, and Zita, seating
+      herself on the low wall with her feet on the bench, leaned back against a
+      pillar of the roof. She did not care much for scenery; she preferred to
+      look at the Gadfly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me a cigarette,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I don't believe I have smoked once since
+      you went away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Happy thought! It's just s-s-smoke I want to complete my bliss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She leaned forward and looked at him earnestly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you really happy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly's mobile brows went up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; why not? I have had a good dinner; I am looking at one of the m-most
+      beautiful views in Europe; and now I'm going to have coffee and hear a
+      Hungarian folk-song. There is nothing the matter with either my conscience
+      or my digestion; what more can man desire?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know another thing you desire.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That!&rdquo; She tossed a little cardboard box into his hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;B-burnt almonds! Why d-didn't you tell me before I began to s-smoke?&rdquo; he
+      cried reproachfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, you baby! you can eat them when you have done smoking. There comes
+      the coffee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly sipped his coffee and ate his burnt almonds with the grave and
+      concentrated enjoyment of a cat drinking cream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How nice it is to come back to d-decent coffee, after the s-s-stuff one
+      gets at Leghorn!&rdquo; he said in his purring drawl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very good reason for stopping at home now you are here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not much stopping for me; I'm off again to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The smile died on her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow! What for? Where are you going to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! two or three p-p-places, on business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It had been decided between him and Gemma that he must go in person into
+      the Apennines to make arrangements with the smugglers of the frontier
+      region about the transporting of the firearms. To cross the Papal frontier
+      was for him a matter of serious danger; but it had to be done if the work
+      was to succeed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Always business!&rdquo; Zita sighed under her breath; and then asked aloud:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall you be gone long?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; only a fortnight or three weeks, p-p-probably.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose it's some of THAT business?&rdquo; she asked abruptly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'That' business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The business you're always trying to get your neck broken over&mdash;the
+      everlasting politics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It has something to do with p-p-politics.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Zita threw away her cigarette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are fooling me,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You are going into some danger or other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going s-s-straight into the infernal regions,&rdquo; he answered languidly.
+      &ldquo;D-do you happen to have any friends there you want to send that ivy to?
+      You n-needn't pull it all down, though.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had fiercely torn off a handful of the climber from the pillar, and
+      now flung it down with vehement anger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going into danger,&rdquo; she repeated; &ldquo;and you won't even say so
+      honestly! Do you think I am fit for nothing but to be fooled and joked
+      with? You will get yourself hanged one of these days, and never so much as
+      say good-bye. It's always politics and politics&mdash;I'm sick of
+      politics!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;S-so am I,&rdquo; said the Gadfly, yawning lazily; &ldquo;and therefore we'll talk
+      about something else&mdash;unless you will sing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, give me the guitar, then. What shall I sing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The ballad of the lost horse; it suits your voice so well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She began to sing the old Hungarian ballad of the man who loses first his
+      horse, then his home, and then his sweetheart, and consoles himself with
+      the reflection that &ldquo;more was lost at Mohacz field.&rdquo; The song was one of
+      the Gadfly's especial favourites; its fierce and tragic melody and the
+      bitter stoicism of the refrain appealed to him as no softer music ever
+      did.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Zita was in excellent voice; the notes came from her lips strong and
+      clear, full of the vehement desire of life. She would have sung Italian or
+      Slavonic music badly, and German still worse; but she sang the Magyar
+      folk-songs splendidly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly listened with wide-open eyes and parted lips; he had never
+      heard her sing like this before. As she came to the last line, her voice
+      began suddenly to shake.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Ah, no matter! More was lost&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      She broke down with a sob and hid her face among the ivy leaves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zita!&rdquo; The Gadfly rose and took the guitar from her hand. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She only sobbed convulsively, hiding her face in both hands. He touched
+      her on the arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me what is the matter,&rdquo; he said caressingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me alone!&rdquo; she sobbed, shrinking away. &ldquo;Let me alone!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went quietly back to his seat and waited till the sobs died away.
+      Suddenly he felt her arms about his neck; she was kneeling on the floor
+      beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Felice&mdash;don't go! Don't go away!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will talk about that afterwards,&rdquo; he said, gently extricating himself
+      from the clinging arms. &ldquo;Tell me first what has upset you so. Has anything
+      been frightening you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She silently shook her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I done anything to hurt you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo; She put a hand up against his throat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will get killed,&rdquo; she whispered at last. &ldquo;I heard one of those men
+      that come here say the other day that you will get into trouble&mdash;and
+      when I ask you about it you laugh at me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear child,&rdquo; the Gadfly said, after a little pause of astonishment,
+      &ldquo;you have got some exaggerated notion into your head. Very likely I shall
+      get killed some day&mdash;that is the natural consequence of being a
+      revolutionist. But there is no reason to suppose I am g-g-going to get
+      killed just now. I am running no more risk than other people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Other people&mdash;what are other people to me? If you loved me you
+      wouldn't go off this way and leave me to lie awake at night, wondering
+      whether you're arrested, or dream you are dead whenever I go to sleep. You
+      don't care as much for me as for that dog there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly rose and walked slowly to the other end of the terrace. He was
+      quite unprepared for such a scene as this and at a loss how to answer her.
+      Yes, Gemma was right; he had got his life into a tangle that he would have
+      hard work to undo.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down and let us talk about it quietly,&rdquo; he said, coming back after a
+      moment. &ldquo;I think we have misunderstood each other; of course I should not
+      have laughed if I had thought you were serious. Try to tell me plainly
+      what is troubling you; and then, if there is any misunderstanding, we may
+      be able to clear it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's nothing to clear up. I can see you don't care a brass farthing
+      for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear child, we had better be quite frank with each other. I have
+      always tried to be honest about our relationship, and I think I have never
+      deceived you as to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! you have been honest enough; you have never even pretended to
+      think of me as anything else but a prostitute,&mdash;a trumpery bit of
+      second-hand finery that plenty of other men have had before you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, Zita! I have never thought that way about any living thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have never loved me,&rdquo; she insisted sullenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I have never loved you. Listen to me, and try to think as little harm
+      of me as you can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who said I thought any harm of you? I&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute. This is what I want to say: I have no belief whatever in
+      conventional moral codes, and no respect for them. To me the relations
+      between men and women are simply questions of personal likes and dislikes&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And of money,&rdquo; she interrupted with a harsh little laugh. He winced and
+      hesitated a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That, of course, is the ugly part of the matter. But believe me, if I had
+      thought that you disliked me, or felt any repulsion to the thing, I would
+      never have suggested it, or taken advantage of your position to persuade
+      you to it. I have never done that to any woman in my life, and I have
+      never told a woman a lie about my feeling for her. You may trust me that I
+      am speaking the truth&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused a moment, but she did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought,&rdquo; he went on; &ldquo;that if a man is alone in the world and feels
+      the need of&mdash;of a woman's presence about him, and if he can find a
+      woman who is attractive to him and to whom he is not repulsive, he has a
+      right to accept, in a grateful and friendly spirit, such pleasure as that
+      woman is willing to give him, without entering into any closer bond. I saw
+      no harm in the thing, provided only there is no unfairness or insult or
+      deceit on either side. As for your having been in that relation with other
+      men before I met you, I did not think about that. I merely thought that
+      the connexion would be a pleasant and harmless one for both of us, and
+      that either was free to break it as soon as it became irksome. If I was
+      mistaken&mdash;if you have grown to look upon it differently&mdash;then&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then?&rdquo; she whispered, without looking up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I have done you a wrong, and I am very sorry. But I did not mean to
+      do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You 'did not mean' and you 'thought'&mdash;&mdash;Felice, are you made of
+      cast iron? Have you never been in love with a woman in your life that you
+      can't see I love you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A sudden thrill went through him; it was so long since anyone had said to
+      him: &ldquo;I love you.&rdquo; Instantly she started up and flung her arms round him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Felice, come away with me! Come away from this dreadful country and all
+      these people and their politics! What have we got to do with them? Come
+      away, and we will be happy together. Let us go to South America, where you
+      used to live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The physical horror of association startled him back into self-control; he
+      unclasped her hands from his neck and held them in a steady grasp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Zita! Try to understand what I am saying to you. I do not love you; and
+      if I did I would not come away with you. I have my work in Italy, and my
+      comrades&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And someone else that you love better than me!&rdquo; she cried out fiercely.
+      &ldquo;Oh, I could kill you! It is not your comrades you care about; it's&mdash;&mdash;
+      I know who it is!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;You are excited and imagining things that are
+      not true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You suppose I am thinking of Signora Bolla? I'm not so easily duped! You
+      only talk politics with her; you care no more for her than you do for me.
+      It's that Cardinal!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly started as if he had been shot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cardinal?&rdquo; he repeated mechanically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cardinal Montanelli, that came here preaching in the autumn. Do you think
+      I didn't see your face when his carriage passed? You were as white as my
+      pocket-handkerchief! Why, you're shaking like a leaf now because I
+      mentioned his name!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know what you are talking about,&rdquo; he said very slowly and
+      softly. &ldquo;I&mdash;hate the Cardinal. He is the worst enemy I have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Enemy or no, you love him better than you love anyone else in the world.
+      Look me in the face and say that is not true, if you can!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away, and looked out into the garden. She watched him furtively,
+      half-scared at what she had done; there was something terrifying in his
+      silence. At last she stole up to him, like a frightened child, and timidly
+      pulled his sleeve. He turned round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is true,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;BUT c-c-can't I meet him somewhere in the hills? Brisighella is a risky
+      place for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every inch of ground in the Romagna is risky for you; but just at this
+      moment Brisighella is safer for you than any other place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll tell you in a minute. Don't let that man with the blue jacket see
+      your face; he's dangerous. Yes; it was a terrible storm; I don't remember
+      to have seen the vines so bad for a long time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly spread his arms on the table, and laid his face upon them, like
+      a man overcome with fatigue or wine; and the dangerous new-comer in the
+      blue jacket, glancing swiftly round, saw only two farmers discussing their
+      crops over a flask of wine and a sleepy mountaineer with his head on the
+      table. It was the usual sort of thing to see in little places like
+      Marradi; and the owner of the blue jacket apparently made up his mind that
+      nothing could be gained by listening; for he drank his wine at a gulp and
+      sauntered into the outer room. There he stood leaning on the counter and
+      gossiping lazily with the landlord, glancing every now and then out of the
+      corner of one eye through the open door, beyond which sat the three
+      figures at the table. The two farmers went on sipping their wine and
+      discussing the weather in the local dialect, and the Gadfly snored like a
+      man whose conscience is sound.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the spy seemed to make up his mind that there was nothing in the
+      wine-shop worth further waste of his time. He paid his reckoning, and,
+      lounging out of the house, sauntered away down the narrow street. The
+      Gadfly, yawning and stretching, lifted himself up and sleepily rubbed the
+      sleeve of his linen blouse across his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty sharp practice that,&rdquo; he said, pulling a clasp-knife out of his
+      pocket and cutting off a chunk from the rye-loaf on the table. &ldquo;Have they
+      been worrying you much lately, Michele?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They've been worse than mosquitos in August. There's no getting a
+      minute's peace; wherever one goes, there's always a spy hanging about.
+      Even right up in the hills, where they used to be so shy about venturing,
+      they have taken to coming in bands of three or four&mdash;haven't they,
+      Gino? That's why we arranged for you to meet Domenichino in the town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but why Brisighella? A frontier town is always full of spies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brisighella just now is a capital place. It's swarming with pilgrims from
+      all parts of the country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it's not on the way to anywhere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not far out of the way to Rome, and many of the Easter Pilgrims are
+      going round to hear Mass there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I d-d-didn't know there was anything special in Brisighella.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's the Cardinal. Don't you remember his going to Florence to preach
+      last December? It's that same Cardinal Montanelli. They say he made a
+      great sensation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say; I don't go to hear sermons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, he has the reputation of being a saint, you see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does he manage that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. I suppose it's because he gives away all his income, and
+      lives like a parish priest with four or five hundred scudi a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; interposed the man called Gino; &ldquo;but it's more than that. He doesn't
+      only give away money; he spends his whole life in looking after the poor,
+      and seeing the sick are properly treated, and hearing complaints and
+      grievances from morning till night. I'm no fonder of priests than you are,
+      Michele, but Monsignor Montanelli is not like other Cardinals.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I dare say he's more fool than knave!&rdquo; said Michele. &ldquo;Anyhow, the
+      people are mad after him, and the last new freak is for the pilgrims to go
+      round that way to ask his blessing. Domenichino thought of going as a
+      pedlar, with a basket of cheap crosses and rosaries. The people like to
+      buy those things and ask the Cardinal to touch them; then they put them
+      round their babies' necks to keep off the evil eye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute. How am I to go&mdash;as a pilgrim? This make-up suits me
+      p-pretty well, I think; but it w-won't do for me to show myself in
+      Brisighella in the same character that I had here; it would be
+      ev-v-vidence against you if I get taken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't get taken; we have a splendid disguise for you, with a passport
+      and all complete.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An old Spanish pilgrim&mdash;a repentant brigand from the Sierras. He
+      fell ill in Ancona last year, and one of our friends took him on board a
+      trading-vessel out of charity, and set him down in Venice, where he had
+      friends, and he left his papers with us to show his gratitude. They will
+      just do for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A repentant b-b-brigand? But w-what about the police?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's all right! He finished his term of the galleys some years ago,
+      and has been going about to Jerusalem and all sorts of places saving his
+      soul ever since. He killed his son by mistake for somebody else, and gave
+      himself up to the police in a fit of remorse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was he quite old?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but a white beard and wig will set that right, and the description
+      suits you to perfection in every other respect. He was an old soldier,
+      with a lame foot and a sabre-cut across the face like yours; and then his
+      being a Spaniard, too&mdash;you see, if you meet any Spanish pilgrims, you
+      can talk to them all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where am I to meet Domenichino?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You join the pilgrims at the cross-road that we will show you on the map,
+      saying you had lost your way in the hills. Then, when you reach the town,
+      you go with the rest of them into the marketplace, in front of the
+      Cardinal's palace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, he manages to live in a p-palace, then, in s-spite of being a saint?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He lives in one wing of it, and has turned the rest into a hospital.
+      Well, you all wait there for him to come out and give his benediction, and
+      Domenichino will come up with his basket and say: 'Are you one of the
+      pilgrims, father?' and you answer: 'I am a miserable sinner.' Then he puts
+      down his basket and wipes his face with his sleeve, and you offer him six
+      soldi for a rosary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, of course, he arranges where we can talk?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; he will have plenty of time to give you the address of the
+      meeting-place while the people are gaping at Montanelli. That was our
+      plan; but if you don't like it, we can let Domenichino know and arrange
+      something else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; it will do; only see that the beard and wig look natural.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you one of the pilgrims, father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly, sitting on the steps of the episcopal palace, looked up from
+      under his ragged white locks, and gave the password in a husky, trembling
+      voice, with a strong foreign accent. Domenichino slipped the leather strap
+      from his shoulder, and set down his basket of pious gewgaws on the step.
+      The crowd of peasants and pilgrims sitting on the steps and lounging about
+      the market-place was taking no notice of them, but for precaution's sake
+      they kept up a desultory conversation, Domenichino speaking in the local
+      dialect and the Gadfly in broken Italian, intermixed with Spanish words.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His Eminence! His Eminence is coming out!&rdquo; shouted the people by the
+      door. &ldquo;Stand aside! His Eminence is coming!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They both stood up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, father,&rdquo; said Domenichino, putting into the Gadfly's hand a little
+      image wrapped in paper; &ldquo;take this, too, and pray for me when you get to
+      Rome.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly thrust it into his breast, and turned to look at the figure in
+      the violet Lenten robe and scarlet cap that was standing on the upper step
+      and blessing the people with outstretched arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli came slowly down the steps, the people crowding about him to
+      kiss his hands. Many knelt down and put the hem of his cassock to their
+      lips as he passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Peace be with you, my children!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sound of the clear, silvery voice, the Gadfly bent his head, so
+      that the white hair fell across his face; and Domenichino, seeing the
+      quivering of the pilgrim's staff in his hand, said to himself with
+      admiration: &ldquo;What an actor!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A woman standing near to them stooped down and lifted her child from the
+      step. &ldquo;Come, Cecco,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;His Eminence will bless you as the dear
+      Lord blessed the children.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly moved a step forward and stopped. Oh, it was hard! All these
+      outsiders&mdash;these pilgrims and mountaineers&mdash;could go up and
+      speak to him, and he would lay his hand on their children's hair. Perhaps
+      he would say &ldquo;Carino&rdquo; to that peasant boy, as he used to say&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly sank down again on the step, turning away that he might not
+      see. If only he could shrink into some corner and stop his ears to shut
+      out the sound! Indeed, it was more than any man should have to bear&mdash;to
+      be so close, so close that he could have put out his arm and touched the
+      dear hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you not come under shelter, my friend?&rdquo; the soft voice said. &ldquo;I am
+      afraid you are chilled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly's heart stood still. For a moment he was conscious of nothing
+      but the sickening pressure of the blood that seemed as if it would tear
+      his breast asunder; then it rushed back, tingling and burning through all
+      his body, and he looked up. The grave, deep eyes above him grew suddenly
+      tender with divine compassion at the sight of his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stand bark a little, friends,&rdquo; Montanelli said, turning to the crowd; &ldquo;I
+      want to speak to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The people fell slowly back, whispering to each other, and the Gadfly,
+      sitting motionless, with teeth clenched and eyes on the ground, felt the
+      gentle touch of Montanelli's hand upon his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have had some great trouble. Can I do anything to help you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly shook his head in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you a pilgrim?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a miserable sinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The accidental similarity of Montanelli's question to the password came
+      like a chance straw, that the Gadfly, in his desperation, caught at,
+      answering automatically. He had begun to tremble under the soft pressure
+      of the hand that seemed to burn upon his shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Cardinal bent down closer to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you would care to speak to me alone? If I can be any help to you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For the first time the Gadfly looked straight and steadily into
+      Montanelli's eyes; he was already recovering his self-command.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It would be no use,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;the thing is hopeless.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A police official stepped forward out of the crowd.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive my intruding, Your Eminence. I think the old man is not quite
+      sound in his mind. He is perfectly harmless, and his papers are in order,
+      so we don't interfere with him. He has been in penal servitude for a great
+      crime, and is now doing penance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A great crime,&rdquo; the Gadfly repeated, shaking his head slowly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, captain; stand aside a little, please. My friend, nothing is
+      hopeless if a man has sincerely repented. Will you not come to me this
+      evening?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would Your Eminence receive a man who is guilty of the death of his own
+      son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The question had almost the tone of a challenge, and Montanelli shrank and
+      shivered under it as under a cold wind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God forbid that I should condemn you, whatever you have done!&rdquo; he said
+      solemnly. &ldquo;In His sight we are all guilty alike, and our righteousness is
+      as filthy rags. If you will come to me I will receive you as I pray that
+      He may one day receive me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly stretched out his hands with a sudden gesture of passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen!&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and listen all of you, Christians! If a man has killed
+      his only son&mdash;his son who loved and trusted him, who was flesh of his
+      flesh and bone of his bone; if he has led his son into a death-trap with
+      lies and deceit&mdash;is there hope for that man in earth or heaven? I
+      have confessed my sin before God and man, and I have suffered the
+      punishment that men have laid on me, and they have let me go; but when
+      will God say, 'It is enough'? What benediction will take away His curse
+      from my soul? What absolution will undo this thing that I have done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the dead silence that followed the people looked at Montanelli, and saw
+      the heaving of the cross upon his breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He raised his eyes at last, and gave the benediction with a hand that was
+      not quite steady.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God is merciful,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Lay your burden before His throne; for it is
+      written: 'A broken and contrite heart shalt thou not despise.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away and walked through the market-place, stopping everywhere to
+      speak to the people, and to take their children in his arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the evening the Gadfly, following the directions written on the
+      wrapping of the image, made his way to the appointed meeting-place. It was
+      the house of a local doctor, who was an active member of the &ldquo;sect.&rdquo; Most
+      of the conspirators were already assembled, and their delight at the
+      Gadfly's arrival gave him a new proof, if he had needed one, of his
+      popularity as a leader.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We're glad enough to see you again,&rdquo; said the doctor; &ldquo;but we shall be
+      gladder still to see you go. It's a fearfully risky business, and I, for
+      one, was against the plan. Are you quite sure none of those police rats
+      noticed you in the market-place this morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, they n-noticed me enough, but they d-didn't recognize me. Domenichino
+      m-managed the thing capitally. But where is he? I don't see him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has not come yet. So you got on all smoothly? Did the Cardinal give
+      you his blessing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His blessing? Oh, that's nothing,&rdquo; said Domenichino, coming in at the
+      door. &ldquo;Rivarez, you're as full of surprises as a Christmas cake. How many
+      more talents are you going to astonish us with?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it now?&rdquo; asked the Gadfly languidly. He was leaning back on a
+      sofa, smoking a cigar. He still wore his pilgrim's dress, but the white
+      beard and wig lay beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no idea you were such an actor. I never saw a thing done so
+      magnificently in my life. You nearly moved His Eminence to tears.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How was that? Let us hear, Rivarez.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. He was in a taciturn and laconic mood,
+      and the others, seeing that nothing was to be got out of him, appealed to
+      Domenichino to explain. When the scene in the market-place had been
+      related, one young workman, who had not joined in the laughter of the
+      rest, remarked abruptly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was very clever, of course; but I don't see what good all this
+      play-acting business has done to anybody.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just this much,&rdquo; the Gadfly put in; &ldquo;that I can go where I like and do
+      what I like anywhere in this district, and not a single man, woman, or
+      child will ever think of suspecting me. The story will be all over the
+      place by to-morrow, and when I meet a spy he will only think: 'It's mad
+      Diego, that confessed his sins in the market-place.' That is an advantage
+      gained, surely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I see. Still, I wish the thing could have been done without fooling
+      the Cardinal. He's too good to have that sort of trick played on him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought myself he seemed fairly decent,&rdquo; the Gadfly lazily assented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense, Sandro! We don't want Cardinals here!&rdquo; said Domenichino. &ldquo;And
+      if Monsignor Montanelli had taken that post in Rome when he had the chance
+      of getting it, Rivarez couldn't have fooled him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wouldn't take it because he didn't want to leave his work here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More likely because he didn't want to get poisoned off by Lambruschini's
+      agents. They've got something against him, you may depend upon it. When a
+      Cardinal, especially such a popular one, 'prefers to stay' in a
+      God-forsaken little hole like this, we all know what that means&mdash;don't
+      we, Rivarez?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly was making smoke-rings. &ldquo;Perhaps it is a c-c-case of a
+      'b-b-broken and contrite heart,'&rdquo; he remarked, leaning his head back to
+      watch them float away. &ldquo;And now, men, let us get to business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They began to discuss in detail the various plans which had been formed
+      for the smuggling and concealment of weapons. The Gadfly listened with
+      keen attention, interrupting every now and then to correct sharply some
+      inaccurate statement or imprudent proposal. When everyone had finished
+      speaking, he made a few practical suggestions, most of which were adopted
+      without discussion. The meeting then broke up. It had been resolved that,
+      at least until he was safely back in Tuscany, very late meetings, which
+      might attract the notice of the police, should be avoided. By a little
+      after ten o'clock all had dispersed except the doctor, the Gadfly, and
+      Domenichino, who remained as a sub-committee for the discussion of special
+      points. After a long and hot dispute, Domenichino looked up at the clock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half-past eleven; we mustn't stop any longer or the night-watchman may
+      see us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When does he pass?&rdquo; asked the Gadfly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About twelve o'clock; and I want to be home before he comes. Good-night,
+      Giordani. Rivarez, shall we walk together?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I think we are safer apart. Then I shall see you again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; at Castel Bolognese. I don't know yet what disguise I shall be in,
+      but you have the password. You leave here to-morrow, I think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly was carefully putting on his beard and wig before the
+      looking-glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-morrow morning, with the pilgrims. On the next day I fall ill and stop
+      behind in a shepherd's hut, and then take a short cut across the hills. I
+      shall be down there before you will. Good-night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Twelve o'clock was striking from the Cathedral bell-tower as the Gadfly
+      looked in at the door of the great empty barn which had been thrown open
+      as a lodging for the pilgrims. The floor was covered with clumsy figures,
+      most of which were snoring lustily, and the air was insufferably close and
+      foul. He drew back with a little shudder of repugnance; it would be
+      useless to attempt to sleep in there; he would take a walk, and then find
+      some shed or haystack which would, at least, be clean and quiet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a glorious night, with a great full moon gleaming in a purple sky.
+      He began to wander through the streets in an aimless way, brooding
+      miserably over the scene of the morning, and wishing that he had never
+      consented to Domenichino's plan of holding the meeting in Brisighella. If
+      at the beginning he had declared the project too dangerous, some other
+      place would have been chosen; and both he and Montanelli would have been
+      spared this ghastly, ridiculous farce.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How changed the Padre was! And yet his voice was not changed at all; it
+      was just the same as in the old days, when he used to say: &ldquo;Carino.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lantern of the night-watchman appeared at the other end of the street,
+      and the Gadfly turned down a narrow, crooked alley. After walking a few
+      yards he found himself in the Cathedral Square, close to the left wing of
+      the episcopal palace. The square was flooded with moonlight, and there was
+      no one in sight; but he noticed that a side door of the Cathedral was
+      ajar. The sacristan must have forgotten to shut it. Surely nothing could
+      be going on there so late at night. He might as well go in and sleep on
+      one of the benches instead of in the stifling barn; he could slip out in
+      the morning before the sacristan came; and even if anyone did find him,
+      the natural supposition would be that mad Diego had been saying his
+      prayers in some corner, and had got shut in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He listened a moment at the door, and then entered with the noiseless step
+      that he had retained notwithstanding his lameness. The moonlight streamed
+      through the windows, and lay in broad bands on the marble floor. In the
+      chancel, especially, everything was as clearly visible as by daylight. At
+      the foot of the altar steps Cardinal Montanelli knelt alone, bare-headed,
+      with clasped hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly drew back into the shadow. Should he slip away before
+      Montanelli saw him? That, no doubt, would be the wisest thing to do&mdash;perhaps
+      the most merciful. And yet, what harm could it do for him to go just a
+      little nearer&mdash;to look at the Padre's face once more, now that the
+      crowd was gone, and there was no need to keep up the hideous comedy of the
+      morning? Perhaps it would be his last chance&mdash;and the Padre need not
+      see him; he would steal up softly and look&mdash;just this once. Then he
+      would go back to his work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Keeping in the shadow of the pillars, he crept softly up to the chancel
+      rails, and paused at the side entrance, close to the altar. The shadow of
+      the episcopal throne was broad enough to cover him, and he crouched down
+      in the darkness, holding his breath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My poor boy! Oh, God; my poor boy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The broken whisper was full of such endless despair that the Gadfly
+      shuddered in spite of himself. Then came deep, heavy, tearless sobs; and
+      he saw Montanelli wring his hands together like a man in bodily pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had not thought it would be so bad as this. How often had he said to
+      himself with bitter assurance: &ldquo;I need not trouble about it; that wound
+      was healed long ago.&rdquo; Now, after all these years, it was laid bare before
+      him, and he saw it bleeding still. And how easy it would be to heal it now
+      at last! He need only lift his hand&mdash;only step forward and say:
+      &ldquo;Padre, it is I.&rdquo; There was Gemma, too, with that white streak across her
+      hair. Oh, if he could but forgive! If he could but cut out from his memory
+      the past that was burned into it so deep&mdash;the Lascar, and the
+      sugar-plantation, and the variety show! Surely there was no other misery
+      like this&mdash;to be willing to forgive, to long to forgive; and to know
+      that it was hopeless&mdash;that he could not, dared not forgive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli rose at last, made the sign of the cross, and turned away from
+      the altar. The Gadfly shrank further back into the shadow, trembling with
+      fear lest he should be seen, lest the very beating of his heart should
+      betray him; then he drew a long breath of relief. Montanelli had passed
+      him, so close that the violet robe had brushed against his cheek,&mdash;had
+      passed and had not seen him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had not seen him&mdash;&mdash; Oh, what had he done? This had been his
+      last chance&mdash;this one precious moment&mdash;and he had let it slip
+      away. He started up and stepped into the light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sound of his own voice, ringing up and dying away along the arches of
+      the roof, filled him with fantastic terror. He shrank back again into the
+      shadow. Montanelli stood beside the pillar, motionless, listening with
+      wide-open eyes, full of the horror of death. How long the silence lasted
+      the Gadfly could not tell; it might have been an instant, or an eternity.
+      He came to his senses with a sudden shock. Montanelli was beginning to
+      sway as though he would fall, and his lips moved, at first silently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; the low whisper came at last; &ldquo;yes, the water is deep&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly came forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, Your Eminence! I thought it was one of the priests.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, it is the pilgrim?&rdquo; Montanelli had at once recovered his
+      self-control, though the Gadfly could see, from the restless glitter of
+      the sapphire on his hand, that he was still trembling. &ldquo;Are you in need of
+      anything, my friend? It is late, and the Cathedral is closed at night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg pardon, Your Eminence, if I have done wrong. I saw the door open,
+      and came in to pray, and when I saw a priest, as I thought, in meditation,
+      I waited to ask a blessing on this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held up the little tin cross that he had bought from Domenichino.
+      Montanelli took it from his hand, and, re-entering the chancel, laid it
+      for a moment on the altar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take it, my son,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and be at rest, for the Lord is tender and
+      pitiful. Go to Rome, and ask the blessing of His minister, the Holy
+      Father. Peace be with you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly bent his head to receive the benediction, and turned slowly
+      away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; said Montanelli.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was standing with one hand on the chancel rail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When you receive the Holy Eucharist in Rome,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;pray for one in
+      deep affliction&mdash;for one on whose soul the hand of the Lord is
+      heavy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were almost tears in his voice, and the Gadfly's resolution wavered.
+      Another instant and he would have betrayed himself. Then the thought of
+      the variety-show came up again, and he remembered, like Jonah, that he did
+      well to be angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who am I, that He should hear my prayers? A leper and an outcast! If I
+      could bring to His throne, as Your Eminence can, the offering of a holy
+      life&mdash;of a soul without spot or secret shame&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli turned abruptly away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have only one offering to give,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;a broken heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      A few days later the Gadfly returned to Florence in the diligence from
+      Pistoja. He went straight to Gemma's lodgings, but she was out. Leaving a
+      message that he would return in the morning he went home, sincerely hoping
+      that he should not again find his study invaded by Zita. Her jealous
+      reproaches would act on his nerves, if he were to hear much of them
+      to-night, like the rasping of a dentist's file.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-evening, Bianca,&rdquo; he said when the maid-servant opened the door.
+      &ldquo;Has Mme. Reni been here to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stared at him blankly
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mme. Reni? Has she come back, then, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; he asked with a frown, stopping short on the mat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She went away quite suddenly, just after you did, and left all her things
+      behind her. She never so much as said she was going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just after I did? What, a f-fortnight ago?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, the same day; and her things are lying about higgledy-piggledy.
+      All the neighbours are talking about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away from the door-step without speaking, and went hastily down
+      the lane to the house where Zita had been lodging. In her rooms nothing
+      had been touched; all the presents that he had given her were in their
+      usual places; there was no letter or scrap of writing anywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you please, sir,&rdquo; said Bianca, putting her head in at the door,
+      &ldquo;there's an old woman&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned round fiercely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want here&mdash;following me about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An old woman wishes to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see her; I'm busy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has been coming nearly every evening since you went away, sir, always
+      asking when you would come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask her w-what her business is. No; never mind; I suppose I must go
+      myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old woman was waiting at his hall door. She was very poorly dressed,
+      with a face as brown and wrinkled as a medlar, and a bright-coloured scarf
+      twisted round her head. As he came in she rose and looked at him with keen
+      black eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are the lame gentleman,&rdquo; she said, inspecting him critically from
+      head to foot. &ldquo;I have brought you a message from Zita Reni.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He opened the study door, and held it for her to pass in; then followed
+      her and shut the door, that Bianca might not hear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, please. N-now, tell me who you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's no business of yours who I am. I have come to tell you that Zita
+      Reni has gone away with my son.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With&mdash;your&mdash;son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir; if you don't know how to keep your mistress when you've got
+      her, you can't complain if other men take her. My son has blood in his
+      veins, not milk and water; he comes of the Romany folk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, you are a gipsy! Zita has gone back to her own people, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked at him in amazed contempt. Apparently, these Christians had not
+      even manhood enough to be angry when they were insulted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of stuff are you made of, that she should stay with you? Our
+      women may lend themselves to you a bit for a girl's fancy, or if you pay
+      them well; but the Romany blood comes back to the Romany folk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly's face remained as cold and steady as before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has she gone away with a gipsy camp, or merely to live with your son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman burst out laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think of following her and trying to win her back? It's too late,
+      sir; you should have thought of that before!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I only want to know the truth, if you will tell it to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She shrugged her shoulders; it was hardly worth while to abuse a person
+      who took it so meekly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The truth, then, is that she met my son in the road the day you left her,
+      and spoke to him in the Romany tongue; and when he saw she was one of our
+      folk, in spite of her fine clothes, he fell in love with her bonny face,
+      as OUR men fall in love, and took her to our camp. She told us all her
+      trouble, and sat crying and sobbing, poor lassie, till our hearts were
+      sore for her. We comforted her as best we could; and at last she took off
+      her fine clothes and put on the things our lasses wear, and gave herself
+      to my son, to be his woman and to have him for her man. He won't say to
+      her: 'I don't love you,' and: 'I've other things to do.' When a woman is
+      young, she wants a man; and what sort of man are you, that you can't even
+      kiss a handsome girl when she puts her arms round your neck?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said,&rdquo; he interrupted, &ldquo;that you had brought me a message from her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I stopped behind when the camp went on, so as to give it. She told
+      me to say that she has had enough of your folk and their hair-splitting
+      and their sluggish blood; and that she wants to get back to her own people
+      and be free. 'Tell him,' she said, 'that I am a woman, and that I loved
+      him; and that is why I would not be his harlot any longer.' The lassie was
+      right to come away. There's no harm in a girl getting a bit of money out
+      of her good looks if she can&mdash;that's what good looks are for; but a
+      Romany lass has nothing to do with LOVING a man of your race.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly stood up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that all the message?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Then tell her, please, that I think
+      she has done right, and that I hope she will be happy. That is all I have
+      to say. Good-night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood perfectly still until the garden gate closed behind her; then he
+      sat down and covered his face with both hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Another blow on the cheek! Was no rag of pride to be left him&mdash;no
+      shred of self-respect? Surely he had suffered everything that man can
+      endure; his very heart had been dragged in the mud and trampled under the
+      feet of the passers-by; there was no spot in his soul where someone's
+      contempt was not branded in, where someone's mockery had not left its iron
+      trace. And now this gipsy girl, whom he had picked up by the wayside&mdash;even
+      she had the whip in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Shaitan whined at the door, and the Gadfly rose to let him in. The dog
+      rushed up to his master with his usual frantic manifestations of delight,
+      but soon, understanding that something was wrong, lay down on the rug
+      beside him, and thrust a cold nose into the listless hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An hour later Gemma came up to the front door. No one appeared in answer
+      to her knock; Bianca, finding that the Gadfly did not want any dinner, had
+      slipped out to visit a neighbour's cook. She had left the door open, and a
+      light burning in the hall. Gemma, after waiting for some time, decided to
+      enter and try if she could find the Gadfly, as she wished to speak to him
+      about an important message which had come from Bailey. She knocked at the
+      study door, and the Gadfly's voice answered from within: &ldquo;You can go away,
+      Bianca. I don't want anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She softly opened the door. The room was quite dark, but the passage lamp
+      threw a long stream of light across it as she entered, and she saw the
+      Gadfly sitting alone, his head sunk on his breast, and the dog asleep at
+      his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is I,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started up. &ldquo;Gemma,&mdash;&mdash; Gemma! Oh, I have wanted you so!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Before she could speak he was kneeling on the floor at her feet and hiding
+      his face in the folds of her dress. His whole body was shaken with a
+      convulsive tremor that was worse to see than tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood still. There was nothing she could do to help him&mdash;nothing.
+      This was the bitterest thing of all. She must stand by and look on
+      passively&mdash;she who would have died to spare him pain. Could she but
+      dare to stoop and clasp her arms about him, to hold him close against her
+      heart and shield him, were it with her own body, from all further harm or
+      wrong; surely then he would be Arthur to her again; surely then the day
+      would break and the shadows flee away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, no, no! How could he ever forget? Was it not she who had cast him into
+      hell&mdash;she, with her own right hand?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had let the moment slip by. He rose hastily and sat down by the table,
+      covering his eyes with one hand and biting his lip as if he would bite it
+      through.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he looked up and said quietly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I startled you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She held out both her hands to him. &ldquo;Dear,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;are we not friends
+      enough by now for you to trust me a little bit? What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only a private trouble of my own. I don't see why you should be worried
+      over it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen a moment,&rdquo; she went on, taking his hand in both of hers to steady
+      its convulsive trembling. &ldquo;I have not tried to lay hands on a thing that
+      is not mine to touch. But now that you have given me, of your own free
+      will, so much of your confidence, will you not give me a little more&mdash;as
+      you would do if I were your sister. Keep the mask on your face, if it is
+      any consolation to you, but don't wear a mask on your soul, for your own
+      sake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bent his head lower. &ldquo;You must be patient with me,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I am an
+      unsatisfactory sort of brother to have, I'm afraid; but if you only knew&mdash;&mdash;
+      I have been nearly mad this last week. It has been like South America
+      again. And somehow the devil gets into me and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; He broke off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I not have my share in your trouble?&rdquo; she whispered at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His head sank down on her arm. &ldquo;The hand of the Lord is heavy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PART III.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE next five weeks were spent by Gemma and the Gadfly in a whirl of
+      excitement and overwork which left them little time or energy for thinking
+      about their personal affairs. When the arms had been safely smuggled into
+      Papal territory there remained a still more difficult and dangerous task:
+      that of conveying them unobserved from the secret stores in the mountain
+      caverns and ravines to the various local centres and thence to the
+      separate villages. The whole district was swarming with spies; and
+      Domenichino, to whom the Gadfly had intrusted the ammunition, sent into
+      Florence a messenger with an urgent appeal for either help or extra time.
+      The Gadfly had insisted that the work should be finished by the middle of
+      June; and what with the difficulty of conveying heavy transports over bad
+      roads, and the endless hindrances and delays caused by the necessity of
+      continually evading observation, Domenichino was growing desperate. &ldquo;I am
+      between Scylla and Charybdis,&rdquo; he wrote. &ldquo;I dare not work quickly, for
+      fear of detection, and I must not work slowly if we are to be ready in
+      time. Either send me efficient help at once, or let the Venetians know
+      that we shall not be ready till the first week in July.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly carried the letter to Gemma and, while she read it, sat
+      frowning at the floor and stroking the cat's fur the wrong way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is bad,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We can hardly keep the Venetians waiting for
+      three weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course we can't; the thing is absurd. Domenichino m-might
+      unders-s-stand that. We must follow the lead of the Venetians, not they
+      ours.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see that Domenichino is to blame; he has evidently done his best,
+      and he can't do impossibilities.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not in Domenichino that the fault lies; it's in the fact of his
+      being one person instead of two. We ought to have at least one responsible
+      man to guard the store and another to see the transports off. He is quite
+      right; he must have efficient help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what help are we going to give him? We have no one in Florence to
+      send.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I m-must go myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She leaned back in her chair and looked at him with a little frown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, that won't do; it's too risky.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will have to do if we can't f-f-find any other way out of the
+      difficulty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we must find another way, that's all. It's out of the question for
+      you to go again just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      An obstinate line appeared at the corners of his under lip.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I d-don't see that it's out of the question.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will see if you think about the thing calmly for a minute. It is only
+      five weeks since you got back; the police are on the scent about that
+      pilgrim business, and scouring the country to find a clue. Yes, I know you
+      are clever at disguises; but remember what a lot of people saw you, both
+      as Diego and as the countryman; and you can't disguise your lameness or
+      the scar on your face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are p-plenty of lame people in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but there are not plenty of people in the Romagna with a lame foot
+      and a sabre-cut across the cheek and a left arm injured like yours, and
+      the combination of blue eyes with such dark colouring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The eyes don't matter; I can alter them with belladonna.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't alter the other things. No, it won't do. For you to go there
+      just now, with all your identification-marks, would be to walk into a trap
+      with your eyes open. You would certainly be taken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But s-s-someone must help Domenichino.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be no help to him to have you caught at a critical moment like
+      this. Your arrest would mean the failure of the whole thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the Gadfly was difficult to convince, and the discussion went on and
+      on without coming nearer to any settlement. Gemma was beginning to realize
+      how nearly inexhaustible was the fund of quiet obstinacy in his character;
+      and, had the matter not been one about which she felt strongly, she would
+      probably have yielded for the sake of peace. This, however, was a case in
+      which she could not conscientiously give way; the practical advantage to
+      be gained from the proposed journey seemed to her not sufficiently
+      important to be worth the risk, and she could not help suspecting that his
+      desire to go was prompted less by a conviction of grave political
+      necessity than by a morbid craving for the excitement of danger. He had
+      got into the habit of risking his neck, and his tendency to run into
+      unnecessary peril seemed to her a form of intemperance which should be
+      quietly but steadily resisted. Finding all her arguments unavailing
+      against his dogged resolve to go his own way, she fired her last shot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us be honest about it, anyway,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;and call things by their
+      true names. It is not Domenichino's difficulty that makes you so
+      determined to go. It is your own personal passion for&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not true!&rdquo; he interrupted vehemently. &ldquo;He is nothing to me; I don't
+      care if I never see him again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off, seeing in her face that he had betrayed himself. Their eyes
+      met for an instant, and dropped; and neither of them uttered the name that
+      was in both their minds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&mdash;it is not Domenichino I want to save,&rdquo; he stammered at last,
+      with his face half buried in the cat's fur; &ldquo;it is that I&mdash;I
+      understand the danger of the work failing if he has no help.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She passed over the feeble little subterfuge, and went on as if there had
+      been no interruption:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is your passion for running into danger which makes you want to go
+      there. You have the same craving for danger when you are worried that you
+      had for opium when you were ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was not I that asked for the opium,&rdquo; he said defiantly; &ldquo;it was the
+      others who insisted on giving it to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say. You plume yourself a little on your stoicism, and to ask for
+      physical relief would have hurt your pride; but it is rather flattered
+      than otherwise when you risk your life to relieve the irritation of your
+      nerves. And yet, after all, the distinction is a merely conventional one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew the cat's head back and looked down into the round, green eyes.
+      &ldquo;Is it true, Pasht?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Are all these unkind things true that your
+      mistress is s-saying about me? Is it a case of mea culpa; mea m-maxima
+      culpa? You wise beast, you never ask for opium, do you? Your ancestors
+      were gods in Egypt, and no man t-trod on their tails. I wonder, though,
+      what would become of your calm superiority to earthly ills if I were to
+      take this paw of yours and hold it in the c-candle. Would you ask me for
+      opium then? Would you? Or perhaps&mdash;for death? No, pussy, we have no
+      right to die for our personal convenience. We may spit and s-swear a bit,
+      if it consoles us; but we mustn't pull the paw away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; She took the cat off his knee and put it down on a footstool. &ldquo;You
+      and I will have time for thinking about those things later on. What we
+      have to think of now is how to get Domenichino out of his difficulty. What
+      is it, Katie; a visitor? I am busy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Wright has sent you this, ma'am, by hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The packet, which was carefully sealed, contained a letter, addressed to
+      Miss Wright, but unopened and with a Papal stamp. Gemma's old school
+      friends still lived in Florence, and her more important letters were often
+      received, for safety, at their address.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is Michele's mark,&rdquo; she said, glancing quickly over the letter, which
+      seemed to be about the summer-terms at a boarding house in the Apennines,
+      and pointing to two little blots on a corner of the page. &ldquo;It is in
+      chemical ink; the reagent is in the third drawer of the writing-table.
+      Yes; that is it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laid the letter open on the desk and passed a little brush over its
+      pages. When the real message stood out on the paper in a brilliant blue
+      line, he leaned back in his chair and burst out laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; she asked hurriedly. He handed her the paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DOMENICHINO HAS BEEN ARRESTED. COME AT ONCE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She sat down with the paper in her hand and stared hopelessly at the
+      Gadfly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;W-well?&rdquo; he said at last, with his soft, ironical drawl; &ldquo;are you
+      satisfied now that I must go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I suppose you must,&rdquo; she answered, sighing. &ldquo;And I too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked up with a little start. &ldquo;You too? But&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course. It will be very awkward, I know, to be left without anyone
+      here in Florence; but everything must go to the wall now except the
+      providing of an extra pair of hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are plenty of hands to be got there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They don't belong to people whom you can trust thoroughly, though. You
+      said yourself just now that there must be two responsible persons in
+      charge; and if Domenichino couldn't manage alone it is evidently
+      impossible for you to do so. A person as desperately compromised as you
+      are is very much handicapped, remember, in work of that kind, and more
+      dependent on help than anyone else would be. Instead of you and
+      Domenichino, it must be you and I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He considered for a moment, frowning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you are quite right,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and the sooner we go the better. But
+      we must not start together. If I go off to-night, you can take, say, the
+      afternoon coach to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That we must discuss. I think I had b-b-better go straight in to Faenza.
+      If I start late to-night and ride to Borgo San Lorenzo I can get my
+      disguise arranged there and go straight on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see what else we can do,&rdquo; she said, with an anxious little frown;
+      &ldquo;but it is very risky, your going off in such a hurry and trusting to the
+      smugglers finding you a disguise at Borgo. You ought to have at least
+      three clear days to double on your trace before you cross the frontier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn't be afraid,&rdquo; he answered, smiling; &ldquo;I may get taken further
+      on, but not at the frontier. Once in the hills I am as safe as here;
+      there's not a smuggler in the Apennines that would betray me. What I am
+      not quite sure about is how you are to get across.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is very simple! I shall take Louisa Wright's passport and go for
+      a holiday. No one knows me in the Romagna, but every spy knows you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;F-fortunately, so does every smuggler.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She took out her watch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half-past two. We have the afternoon and evening, then, if you are to
+      start to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then the best thing will be for me to go home and settle everything now,
+      and arrange about a good horse. I shall ride in to San Lorenzo; it will be
+      safer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it won't be safe at all to hire a horse. The owner will&mdash;&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shan't hire one. I know a man that will lend me a horse, and that can
+      be trusted. He has done things for me before. One of the shepherds will
+      bring it back in a fortnight. I shall be here again by five or half-past,
+      then; and while I am gone, I w-want you to go and find Martini and
+      exp-plain everything to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Martini!&rdquo; She turned round and looked at him in astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; we must take him into confidence&mdash;unless you can think of
+      anyone else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't quite understand what you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must have someone here whom we can trust, in case of any special
+      difficulty; and of all the set here Martini is the man in whom I have most
+      confidence. Riccardo would do anything he could for us, of course; but I
+      think Martini has a steadier head. Still, you know him better than I do;
+      it is as you think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not the slightest doubt as to Martini's trustworthiness and
+      efficiency in every respect; and I think he would probably consent to give
+      us any help he could. But&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He understood at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma, what would you feel if you found out that a comrade in bitter need
+      had not asked you for help you might have given, for fear of hurting or
+      distressing you? Would you say there was any true kindness in that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; she said, after a little pause; &ldquo;I will send Katie round at
+      once and ask him to come; and while she is gone I will go to Louisa for
+      her passport; she promised to lend it whenever I want one. What about
+      money? Shall I draw some out of the bank?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; don't waste time on that; I can draw enough from my account to last
+      us for a bit. We will fall back on yours later on if my balance runs
+      short. Till half-past five, then; I shall be sure to find you here, of
+      course?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes! I shall be back long before then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Half an hour after the appointed time he returned, and found Gemma and
+      Martini sitting on the terrace together. He saw at once that their
+      conversation had been a distressing one; the traces of agitation were
+      visible in both of them, and Martini was unusually silent and glum.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you arranged everything?&rdquo; she asked, looking up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and I have brought you some money for the journey. The horse will be
+      ready for me at the Ponte Rosso barrier at one in the night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is not that rather late? You ought to get into San Lorenzo before the
+      people are up in the morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I shall; it's a very fast horse; and I don't want to leave here when
+      there's a chance of anyone noticing me. I shan't go home any more; there's
+      a spy watching at the door, and he thinks me in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you get out without his seeing you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Out of the kitchen window into the back garden and over the neighbour's
+      orchard wall; that's what makes me so late; I had to dodge him. I left the
+      owner of the horse to sit in the study all the evening with the lamp
+      lighted. When the spy sees the light in the window and a shadow on the
+      blind he will be quite satisfied that I am writing at home this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will stay here till it is time to go to the barrier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; I don't want to be seen in the street any more to-night. Have a
+      cigar, Martini? I know Signora Bolla doesn't mind smoke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shan't be here to mind; I must go downstairs and help Katie with the
+      dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had gone Martini got up and began to pace to and fro with his
+      hands behind his back. The Gadfly sat smoking and looking silently out at
+      the drizzling rain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rivarez!&rdquo; Martini began, stopping in front of him, but keeping his eyes
+      on the ground; &ldquo;what sort of thing are you going to drag her into?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly took the cigar from his mouth and blew away a long trail of
+      smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has chosen for herself,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;without compulsion on anyone's
+      part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes&mdash;I know. But tell me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you anything I can.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then&mdash;I don't know much about the details of these affairs in
+      the hills,&mdash;are you going to take her into any very serious danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you want the truth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then&mdash;yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini turned away and went on pacing up and down. Presently he stopped
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want to ask you another question. If you don't choose to answer it, you
+      needn't, of course; but if you do answer, then answer honestly. Are you in
+      love with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly deliberately knocked the ash from his cigar and went on smoking
+      in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That means&mdash;that you don't choose to answer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; only that I think I have a right to know why you ask me that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Good God, man, can't you see why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; He laid down his cigar and looked steadily at Martini. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he
+      said at last, slowly and softly. &ldquo;I am in love with her. But you needn't
+      think I am going to make love to her, or worry about it. I am only going
+      to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice died away in a strange, faint whisper. Martini came a step
+      nearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only going&mdash;to&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was staring straight before him with a cold, fixed look, as if he were
+      dead already. When he spoke again his voice was curiously lifeless and
+      even.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn't worry her about it beforehand,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;but there's not the
+      ghost of a chance for me. It's dangerous for everyone; that she knows as
+      well as I do; but the smugglers will do their best to prevent her getting
+      taken. They are good fellows, though they are a bit rough. As for me, the
+      rope is round my neck, and when I cross the frontier I pull the noose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rivarez, what do you mean? Of course it's dangerous, and particularly so
+      for you; I understand that; but you have often crossed the frontier before
+      and always been successful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and this time I shall fail.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why? How can you know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly smiled drearily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember the German legend of the man that died when he met his
+      own Double? No? It appeared to him at night in a lonely place, wringing
+      its hands in despair. Well, I met mine the last time I was in the hills;
+      and when I cross the frontier again I shan't come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini came up to him and put a hand on the back of his chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, Rivarez; I don't understand a word of all this metaphysical
+      stuff, but I do understand one thing: If you feel about it that way, you
+      are not in a fit state to go. The surest way to get taken is to go with a
+      conviction that you will be taken. You must be ill, or out of sorts
+      somehow, to get maggots of that kind into your head. Suppose I go instead
+      of you? I can do any practical work there is to be done, and you can send
+      a message to your men, explaining&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And let you get killed instead? That would be very clever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I'm not likely to get killed! They don't know me as they do you. And,
+      besides, even if I did&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped, and the Gadfly looked up with a slow, inquiring gaze.
+      Martini's hand dropped by his side.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She very likely wouldn't miss me as much as she would you,&rdquo; he said in
+      his most matter-of-fact voice. &ldquo;And then, besides, Rivarez, this is public
+      business, and we have to look at it from the point of view of utility&mdash;the
+      greatest good of the greatest number. Your 'final value'&mdash;-isn't that
+      what the economists call it?&mdash;is higher than mine; I have brains
+      enough to see that, though I haven't any cause to be particularly fond of
+      you. You are a bigger man than I am; I'm not sure that you are a better
+      one, but there's more of you, and your death would be a greater loss than
+      mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      From the way he spoke he might have been discussing the value of shares on
+      the Exchange. The Gadfly looked up, shivering as if with cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you have me wait till my grave opens of itself to swallow me up?
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                &ldquo;If I must die,
+    I will encounter darkness as a bride&mdash;&mdash;
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Look here, Martini, you and I are talking nonsense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are, certainly,&rdquo; said Martini gruffly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and so are you. For Heaven's sake, don't let's go in for romantic
+      self-sacrifice, like Don Carlos and Marquis Posa. This is the nineteenth
+      century; and if it's my business to die, I have got to do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And if it's my business to live, I have got to do that, I suppose. You're
+      the lucky one, Rivarez.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; the Gadfly assented laconically; &ldquo;I was always lucky.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They smoked in silence for a few minutes, and then began to talk of
+      business details. When Gemma came up to call them to dinner, neither of
+      them betrayed in face or manner that their conversation had been in any
+      way unusual. After dinner they sat discussing plans and making necessary
+      arrangements till eleven o'clock, when Martini rose and took his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go home and fetch that riding-cloak of mine, Rivarez. I think you
+      will be less recognizable in it than in your light suit. I want to
+      reconnoitre a bit, too, and make sure there are no spies about before we
+      start.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you coming with me to the barrier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; it's safer to have four eyes than two in case of anyone following
+      you. I'll be back by twelve. Be sure you don't start without me. I had
+      better take the key, Gemma, so as not to wake anyone by ringing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She raised her eyes to his face as he took the keys. She understood that
+      he had invented a pretext in order to leave her alone with the Gadfly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You and I will talk to-morrow,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;We shall have time in the
+      morning, when my packing is finished.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes! Plenty of time. There are two or three little things I want to
+      ask you about, Rivarez; but we can talk them over on our way to the
+      barrier. You had better send Katie to bed, Gemma; and be as quiet as you
+      can, both of you. Good-bye till twelve, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went away with a little nod and smile, banging the door after him to
+      let the neighbours hear that Signora Bolla's visitor was gone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma went out into the kitchen to say good-night to Katie, and came back
+      with black coffee on a tray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you like to lie down a bit?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You won't have any sleep
+      the rest of the night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear no! I shall sleep at San Lorenzo while the men are getting my
+      disguise ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then have some coffee. Wait a minute; I will get you out the biscuits.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she knelt down at the side-board he suddenly stooped over her shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whatever have you got there? Chocolate creams and English toffee! Why,
+      this is l-luxury for a king!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She looked up, smiling faintly at his enthusiastic tone.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you fond of sweets? I always keep them for Cesare; he is a perfect
+      baby over any kind of lollipops.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;R-r-really? Well, you must get him s-some more to-morrow and give me
+      these to take with me. No, let me p-p-put the toffee in my pocket; it will
+      console me for all the lost joys of life. I d-do hope they'll give me a
+      bit of toffee to suck the day I'm hanged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do let me find a cardboard box for it, at least, before you put it in
+      your pocket! You will be so sticky! Shall I put the chocolates in, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I want to eat them now, with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don't like chocolate, and I want you to come and sit down like a
+      reasonable human being. We very likely shan't have another chance to talk
+      quietly before one or other of us is killed, and&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She d-d-doesn't like chocolate!&rdquo; he murmured under his breath. &ldquo;Then I
+      must be greedy all by myself. This is a case of the hangman's supper,
+      isn't it? You are going to humour all my whims to-night. First of all, I
+      want you to sit on this easy-chair, and, as you said I might lie down, I
+      shall lie here and be comfortable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He threw himself down on the rug at her feet, leaning his elbow on the
+      chair and looking up into her face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How pale you are!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That's because you take life sadly, and
+      don't like chocolate&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do be serious for just five minutes! After all, it is a matter of life
+      and death.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life nor death is worth it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had taken hold of both her hands and was stroking them with the tips of
+      his fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't look so grave, Minerva! You'll make me cry in a minute, and then
+      you'll be sorry. I do wish you'd smile again; you have such a
+      d-delightfully unexpected smile. There now, don't scold me, dear! Let us
+      eat our biscuits together, like two good children, without quarrelling
+      over them&mdash;for to-morrow we die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took a sweet biscuit from the plate and carefully halved it, breaking
+      the sugar ornament down the middle with scrupulous exactness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a kind of sacrament, like what the goody-goody people have in
+      church. 'Take, eat; this is my body.' And we must d-drink the wine out of
+      the s-s-same glass, you know&mdash;yes, that is right. 'Do this in
+      remembrance&mdash;&mdash;'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She put down the glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't!&rdquo; she said, with almost a sob. He looked up, and took her hands
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush, then! Let us be quiet for a little bit. When one of us dies, the
+      other will remember this. We will forget this loud, insistent world that
+      howls about our ears; we will go away together, hand in hand; we will go
+      away into the secret halls of death, and lie among the poppy-flowers.
+      Hush! We will be quite still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He laid his head down against her knee and covered his face. In the
+      silence she bent over him, her hand on the black head. So the time slipped
+      on and on; and they neither moved nor spoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear, it is almost twelve,&rdquo; she said at last. He raised his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have only a few minutes more; Martini will be back presently. Perhaps
+      we shall never see each other again. Have you nothing to say to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He slowly rose and walked away to the other side of the room. There was a
+      moment's silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have one thing to say,&rdquo; he began in a hardly audible voice; &ldquo;one thing&mdash;to
+      tell you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped and sat down by the window, hiding his face in both hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been a long time deciding to be merciful,&rdquo; she said softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not seen much mercy in my life; and I thought&mdash;at first&mdash;you
+      wouldn't care&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't think that now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She waited a moment for him to speak and then crossed the room and stood
+      beside him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me the truth at last,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Think, if you are killed and
+      I not&mdash;I should have to go through all my life and never know&mdash;never
+      be quite sure&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He took her hands and clasped them tightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I am killed&mdash;&mdash; You see, when I went to South America&mdash;&mdash;
+      Ah, Martini!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke away with a violent start and threw open the door of the room.
+      Martini was rubbing his boots on the mat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Punctual to the m-m-minute, as usual! You're an an-n-nimated chronometer,
+      Martini. Is that the r-r-riding-cloak?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and two or three other things. I have kept them as dry as I could,
+      but it's pouring with rain. You will have a most uncomfortable ride, I'm
+      afraid.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's no matter. Is the street clear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; all the spies seem to have gone to bed. I don't much wonder either,
+      on such a villainous night. Is that coffee, Gemma? He ought to have
+      something hot before he goes out into the wet, or he will catch cold.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is black coffee, and very strong. I will boil some milk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went into the kitchen, passionately clenching her teeth and hands to
+      keep from breaking down. When she returned with the milk the Gadfly had
+      put on the riding-cloak and was fastening the leather gaiters which
+      Martini had brought. He drank a cup of coffee, standing, and took up the
+      broad-brimmed riding hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think it's time to start, Martini; we must make a round before we go to
+      the barrier, in case of anything. Good-bye, for the present, signora; I
+      shall meet you at Forli on Friday, then, unless anything special turns up.
+      Wait a minute; th-this is the address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tore a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote a few words in pencil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have it already,&rdquo; she said in a dull, quiet voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H-have you? Well, there it is, anyway. Come, Martini. Sh-sh-sh! Don't let
+      the door creak!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They crept softly downstairs. When the street door clicked behind them she
+      went back into the room and mechanically unfolded the paper he had put
+      into her hand. Underneath the address was written:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you everything there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      IT was market-day in Brisighella, and the country folk had come in from
+      the villages and hamlets of the district with their pigs and poultry,
+      their dairy produce and droves of half-wild mountain cattle. The
+      market-place was thronged with a perpetually shifting crowd, laughing,
+      joking, bargaining for dried figs, cheap cakes, and sunflower seeds. The
+      brown, bare-footed children sprawled, face downward, on the pavement in
+      the hot sun, while their mothers sat under the trees with their baskets of
+      butter and eggs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsignor Montanelli, coming out to wish the people &ldquo;Good-morning,&rdquo; was at
+      once surrounded by a clamourous throng of children, holding up for his
+      acceptance great bunches of irises and scarlet poppies and sweet white
+      narcissus from the mountain slopes. His passion for wild flowers was
+      affectionately tolerated by the people, as one of the little follies which
+      sit gracefully on very wise men. If anyone less universally beloved had
+      filled his house with weeds and grasses they would have laughed at him;
+      but the &ldquo;blessed Cardinal&rdquo; could afford a few harmless eccentricities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mariuccia,&rdquo; he said, stopping to pat one of the children on the
+      head; &ldquo;you have grown since I saw you last. And how is the grandmother's
+      rheumatism?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's been better lately, Your Eminence; but mother's bad now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sorry to hear that; tell the mother to come down here some day and
+      see whether Dr. Giordani can do anything for her. I will find somewhere to
+      put her up; perhaps the change will do her good. You are looking better,
+      Luigi; how are your eyes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He passed on, chatting with the mountaineers. He always remembered the
+      names and ages of the children, their troubles and those of their parents;
+      and would stop to inquire, with sympathetic interest, for the health of
+      the cow that fell sick at Christmas, or of the rag-doll that was crushed
+      under a cart-wheel last market-day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he returned to the palace the marketing began. A lame man in a blue
+      shirt, with a shock of black hair hanging into his eyes and a deep scar
+      across the left cheek, lounged up to one of the booths and, in very bad
+      Italian, asked for a drink of lemonade.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You're not from these parts,&rdquo; said the woman who poured it out, glancing
+      up at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I come from Corsica.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Looking for work?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; it will be hay-cutting time soon, and a gentleman that has a farm
+      near Ravenna came across to Bastia the other day and told me there's
+      plenty of work to be got there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are bad hereabouts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't know what we poor folk are
+      coming to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you come over alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the red shirt. Hola, Paolo!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Michele hearing himself called, came lounging up with his hands in his
+      pockets. He made a fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig which he
+      had put on to render himself unrecognizable. As for the Gadfly, he looked
+      his part to perfection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sauntered through the market-place together, Michele whistling
+      between his teeth, and the Gadfly trudging along with a bundle over his
+      shoulder, shuffling his feet on the ground to render his lameness less
+      observable. They were waiting for an emissary, to whom important
+      directions had to be given.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner,&rdquo; Michele whispered
+      suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying his bundle, shuffled towards the
+      horseman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you happen to be wanting a hay-maker, sir?&rdquo; he said, touching his
+      ragged cap and running one finger along the bridle. It was the signal
+      agreed upon, and the rider, who from his appearance might have been a
+      country squire's bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins on the horse's
+      neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of work can you do, my man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly fumbled with his cap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges&rdquo;&mdash;he began; and without any
+      break in his voice, went straight on: &ldquo;At one in the morning at the mouth
+      of the round cave. You must have two good horses and a cart. I shall be
+      waiting inside the cave&mdash;&mdash; And then I can dig, sir, and&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. Have you ever been out before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed; we may meet a flying squadron.
+      Don't go by the wood-path; you're safer on the other side. If you meet a
+      spy, don't stop to argue with him; fire at once&mdash;&mdash; I should be
+      very glad of work, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced grass-cutter. No, I haven't
+      got any coppers to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them, with a doleful, monotonous
+      whine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have pity on a poor blind man, in the name of the Blessed Virgin&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+      Get out of this place at once; there's a flying squadron coming along&mdash;&mdash;Most
+      Holy Queen of Heaven, Maiden undefiled&mdash;It's you they're after,
+      Rivarez; they'll be here in two minutes&mdash;&mdash; And so may the
+      saints reward you&mdash;&mdash; You'll have to make a dash for it; there
+      are spies at all the corners. It's no use trying to slip away without
+      being seen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let the horse go; you can hide in
+      the ravine. We're all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. I won't have you fellows taken. Stand together, all of you, and fire
+      after me in order. Move up towards our horses; there they are, tethered by
+      the palace steps; and have your knives ready. We retreat fighting, and
+      when I throw my cap down, cut the halters and jump every man on the
+      nearest horse. We may all reach the wood that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They had spoken in so quiet an undertone that even the nearest bystanders
+      had not supposed their conversation to refer to anything more dangerous
+      than grass-cutting. Marcone, leading his own mare by the bridle, walked
+      towards the tethered horses, the Gadfly slouching along beside him, and
+      the beggar following them with an outstretched hand and a persistent
+      whine. Michele came up whistling; the beggar had warned him in passing,
+      and he quietly handed on the news to three countrymen who were eating raw
+      onions under a tree. They immediately rose and followed him; and before
+      anyone's notice had been attracted to them, the whole seven were standing
+      together by the steps of the palace, each man with one hand on the hidden
+      pistol, and the tethered horses within easy reach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't betray yourselves till I move,&rdquo; the Gadfly said softly and clearly.
+      &ldquo;They may not recognize us. When I fire, then begin in order. Don't fire
+      at the men; lame their horses&mdash;then they can't follow us. Three of
+      you fire, while the other three reload. If anyone comes between you and
+      our horses, kill him. I take the roan. When I throw down my cap, each man
+      for himself; don't stop for anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here they come,&rdquo; said Michele; and the Gadfly turned round, with an air
+      of naive and stupid wonder, as the people suddenly broke off in their
+      bargaining.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fifteen armed men rode slowly into the marketplace. They had great
+      difficulty to get past the throng of people at all, and, but for the spies
+      at the corners of the square, all the seven conspirators could have
+      slipped quietly away while the attention of the crowd was fixed upon the
+      soldiers. Michele moved a little closer to the Gadfly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Couldn't we get away now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; we're surrounded with spies, and one of them has recognized me. He
+      has just sent a man to tell the captain where I am. Our only chance is to
+      lame their horses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which is the spy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The first man I fire at. Are you all ready? They have made a lane to us;
+      they are going to come with a rush.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Out of the way there!&rdquo; shouted the captain. &ldquo;In the name of His
+      Holiness!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The crowd had drawn back, startled and wondering; and the soldiers made a
+      quick dash towards the little group standing by the palace steps. The
+      Gadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired, not at the advancing
+      troops, but at the spy, who was approaching the horses, and who fell back
+      with a broken collar-bone. Immediately after the report, six more shots
+      were fired in quick succession, as the conspirators moved steadily closer
+      to the tethered horses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the cavalry horses stumbled and plunged; another fell to the ground
+      with a fearful cry. Then, through the shrieking of the panic-stricken
+      people, came the loud, imperious voice of the officer in command, who had
+      risen in the stirrups and was holding a sword above his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This way, men!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He swayed in the saddle and sank back; the Gadfly had fired again with his
+      deadly aim. A little stream of blood was trickling down the captain's
+      uniform; but he steadied himself with a violent effort, and, clutching at
+      his horse's mane, cried out fiercely:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive! It's Rivarez!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another pistol, quick!&rdquo; the Gadfly called to his men; &ldquo;and go!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He flung down his cap. It was only just in time, for the swords of the now
+      infuriated soldiers were flashing close in front of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put down your weapons, all of you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cardinal Montanelli had stepped suddenly between the combatants; and one
+      of the soldiers cried out in a voice sharp with terror:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli only moved a step nearer, and faced the Gadfly's pistol.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Five of the conspirators were already on horseback and dashing up the
+      hilly street. Marcone sprang on to the back of his mare. In the moment of
+      riding away, he glanced back to see whether his leader was in need of
+      help. The roan was close at hand, and in another instant all would have
+      been safe; but as the figure in the scarlet cassock stepped forward, the
+      Gadfly suddenly wavered and the hand with the pistol sank down. The
+      instant decided everything. Immediately he was surrounded and flung
+      violently to the ground, and the weapon was dashed out of his hand by a
+      blow from the flat of a soldier's sword. Marcone struck his mare's flank
+      with the stirrup; the hoofs of the cavalry horses were thundering up the
+      hill behind him; and it would have been worse than useless to stay and be
+      taken too. Turning in the saddle as he galloped away, to fire a last shot
+      in the teeth of the nearest pursuer, he saw the Gadfly, with blood on his
+      face, trampled under the feet of horses and soldiers and spies; and heard
+      the savage curses of the captors, the yells of triumph and rage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli did not notice what had happened; he had moved away from the
+      steps, and was trying to calm the terrified people. Presently, as he
+      stooped over the wounded spy, a startled movement of the crowd made him
+      look up. The soldiers were crossing the square, dragging their prisoner
+      after them by the rope with which his hands were tied. His face was livid
+      with pain and exhaustion, and he panted fearfully for breath; but he
+      looked round at the Cardinal, smiling with white lips, and whispered:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I c-cong-gratulate your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      Five days later Martini reached Forli. He had received from Gemma by post
+      a bundle of printed circulars, the signal agreed upon in case of his being
+      needed in any special emergency; and, remembering the conversation on the
+      terrace, he guessed the truth at once. All through the journey he kept
+      repeating to himself that there was no reason for supposing anything to
+      have happened to the Gadfly, and that it was absurd to attach any
+      importance to the childish superstitions of so nervous and fanciful a
+      person; but the more he reasoned with himself against the idea, the more
+      firmly did it take possession of his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have guessed what it is: Rivarez is taken, of course?&rdquo; he said, as he
+      came into Gemma's room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was arrested last Thursday, at Brisighella. He defended himself
+      desperately and wounded the captain of the squadron and a spy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Armed resistance; that's bad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It makes no difference; he was too deeply compromised already for a
+      pistol-shot more or less to affect his position much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think they are going to do with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She grew a shade paler even than before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;that we must not wait to find out what they mean to
+      do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think we shall be able to effect a rescue?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We MUST.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away and began to whistle, with his hands behind his back. Gemma
+      let him think undisturbed. She was sitting still, leaning her head against
+      the back of the chair, and looking out into vague distance with a fixed
+      and tragic absorption. When her face wore that expression, it had a look
+      of Durer's &ldquo;Melancolia.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you seen him?&rdquo; Martini asked, stopping for a moment in his tramp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; he was to have met me here the next morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I remember. Where is he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the fortress; very strictly guarded, and, they say, in chains.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He made a gesture of indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid of any number of chains.
+      If only he isn't wounded&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seems to have been slightly hurt, but exactly how much we don't know.
+      I think you had better hear the account of it from Michele himself; he was
+      present at the arrest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How does he come not to have been taken too? Did he run away and leave
+      Rivarez in the lurch?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's not his fault; he fought as long as anybody did, and followed the
+      directions given him to the letter. For that matter, so did they all. The
+      only person who seems to have forgotten, or somehow made a mistake at the
+      last minute, is Rivarez himself. There's something inexplicable about it
+      altogether. Wait a moment; I will call Michele.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went out of the room, and presently came back with Michele and a
+      broad-shouldered mountaineer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is Marco,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;You have heard of him; he is one of the
+      smugglers. He has just got here, and perhaps will be able to tell us more.
+      Michele, this is Cesare Martini, that I spoke to you about. Will you tell
+      him what happened, as far as you saw it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Michele gave a short account of the skirmish with the squadron.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't understand how it happened,&rdquo; he concluded. &ldquo;Not one of us would
+      have left him if we had thought he would be taken; but his directions were
+      quite precise, and it never occurred to us, when he threw down his cap,
+      that he would wait to let them surround him. He was close beside the roan&mdash;I
+      saw him cut the tether&mdash;and I handed him a loaded pistol myself
+      before I mounted. The only thing I can suppose is that he missed his
+      footing,&mdash;being lame,&mdash;in trying to mount. But even then, he
+      could have fired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it wasn't that,&rdquo; Marcone interposed. &ldquo;He didn't attempt to mount. I
+      was the last one to go, because my mare shied at the firing; and I looked
+      round to see whether he was safe. He would have got off clear if it hadn't
+      been for the Cardinal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini repeated in amazement: &ldquo;The
+      Cardinal?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; he threw himself in front of the pistol&mdash;confound him! I
+      suppose Rivarez must have been startled, for he dropped his pistol-hand
+      and put the other one up like this&rdquo;&mdash;laying the back of his left
+      wrist across his eyes&mdash;&ldquo;and of course they all rushed on him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't make that out,&rdquo; said Michele. &ldquo;It's not like Rivarez to lose his
+      head at a crisis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing an unarmed man,&rdquo;
+       Martini put in. Michele shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unarmed men shouldn't poke their noses into the middle of a fight. War is
+      war. If Rivarez had put a bullet into His Eminence, instead of letting
+      himself be caught like a tame rabbit, there'd be one honest man the more
+      and one priest the less.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned away, biting his moustache. His anger was very near to breaking
+      down in tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anyway,&rdquo; said Martini, &ldquo;the thing's done, and there's no use wasting time
+      in discussing how it happened. The question now is how we're to arrange an
+      escape for him. I suppose you're all willing to risk it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Michele did not even condescend to answer the superfluous question, and
+      the smuggler only remarked with a little laugh: &ldquo;I'd shoot my own brother,
+      if he weren't willing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then&mdash;&mdash; First thing; have you got a plan of the
+      fortress?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several sheets of paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have made out all the plans. Here is the ground floor of the fortress;
+      here are the upper and lower stories of the towers, and here the plan of
+      the ramparts. These are the roads leading to the valley, and here are the
+      paths and hiding-places in the mountains, and the underground passages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you know which of the towers he is in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The east one, in the round room with the grated window. I have marked it
+      on the plan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you get your information?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From a man nicknamed 'The Cricket,' a soldier of the guard. He is cousin
+      to one of our men&mdash;Gino.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been quick about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's no time to lose. Gino went into Brisighella at once; and some of
+      the plans we already had. That list of hiding-places was made by Rivarez
+      himself; you can see by the handwriting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That we have not been able to find out yet; the Cricket has only just
+      come to the place, and knows nothing about the other men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must find out from Gino what the Cricket himself is like. Is anything
+      known of the government's intentions? Is Rivarez likely to be tried in
+      Brisighella or taken in to Ravenna?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That we don't know. Ravenna, of course, is the chief town of the Legation
+      and by law cases of importance can be tried only there, in the Tribunal of
+      First Instance. But law doesn't count for much in the Four Legations; it
+      depends on the personal fancy of anybody who happens to be in power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They won't take him in to Ravenna,&rdquo; Michele interposed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What makes you think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure of it. Colonel Ferrari, the military Governor at Brisighella,
+      is uncle to the officer that Rivarez wounded; he's a vindictive sort of
+      brute and won't give up a chance to spite an enemy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think he will try to get him hanged.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini glanced quickly at Gemma. She was very pale, but her face had not
+      changed at the words. Evidently the idea was no new one to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He can hardly do that without some formality,&rdquo; she said quietly; &ldquo;but he
+      might possibly get up a court-martial on some pretext or other, and
+      justify himself afterwards by saying that the peace of the town required
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what about the Cardinal? Would he consent to things of that kind?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has no jurisdiction in military affairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but he has great influence. Surely the Governor would not venture on
+      such a step without his consent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll never get that,&rdquo; Marcone interrupted. &ldquo;Montanelli was always
+      against the military commissions, and everything of the kind. So long as
+      they keep him in Brisighella nothing serious can happen; the Cardinal will
+      always take the part of any prisoner. What I am afraid of is their taking
+      him to Ravenna. Once there, he's lost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shouldn't let him get there,&rdquo; said Michele. &ldquo;We could manage a rescue
+      on the road; but to get him out of the fortress here is another matter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; said Gemma; &ldquo;that it would be quite useless to wait for the
+      chance of his being transferred to Ravenna. We must make the attempt at
+      Brisighella, and we have no time to lose. Cesare, you and I had better go
+      over the plan of the fortress together, and see whether we can think out
+      anything. I have an idea in my head, but I can't get over one point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, Marcone,&rdquo; said Michele, rising; &ldquo;we will leave them to think out
+      their scheme. I have to go across to Fognano this afternoon, and I want
+      you to come with me. Vincenzo hasn't sent those cartridges, and they ought
+      to have been here yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the two men had gone, Martini went up to Gemma and silently held out
+      his hand. She let her fingers lie in his for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were always a good friend, Cesare,&rdquo; she said at last; &ldquo;and a very
+      present help in trouble. And now let us discuss plans.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;AND I once more most earnestly assure Your Eminence that your refusal is
+      endangering the peace of the town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor tried to preserve the respectful tone due to a high dignitary
+      of the Church; but there was audible irritation in his voice. His liver
+      was out of order, his wife was running up heavy bills, and his temper had
+      been sorely tried during the last three weeks. A sullen, disaffected
+      populace, whose dangerous mood grew daily more apparent; a district
+      honeycombed with plots and bristling with hidden weapons; an inefficient
+      garrison, of whose loyalty he was more than doubtful, and a Cardinal whom
+      he had pathetically described to his adjutant as the &ldquo;incarnation of
+      immaculate pig-headedness,&rdquo; had already reduced him to the verge of
+      desperation. Now he was saddled with the Gadfly, an animated quintessence
+      of the spirit of mischief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having begun by disabling both the Governor's favourite nephew and his
+      most valuable spy, the &ldquo;crooked Spanish devil&rdquo; had followed up his
+      exploits in the market-place by suborning the guards, browbeating the
+      interrogating officers, and &ldquo;turning the prison into a bear-garden.&rdquo; He
+      had now been three weeks in the fortress, and the authorities of
+      Brisighella were heartily sick of their bargain. They had subjected him to
+      interrogation upon interrogation; and after employing, to obtain
+      admissions from him, every device of threat, persuasion, and stratagem
+      which their ingenuity could suggest, remained just as wise as on the day
+      of his capture. They had begun to realize that it would perhaps have been
+      better to send him into Ravenna at once. It was, however, too late to
+      rectify the mistake. The Governor, when sending in to the Legate his
+      report of the arrest, had begged, as a special favour, permission to
+      superintend personally the investigation of this case; and, his request
+      having been graciously acceded to, he could not now withdraw without a
+      humiliating confession that he was overmatched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The idea of settling the difficulty by a courtmartial had, as Gemma and
+      Michele had foreseen, presented itself to him as the only satisfactory
+      solution; and Cardinal Montanelli's stubborn refusal to countenance this
+      was the last drop which made the cup of his vexations overflow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;that if Your Eminence knew what I and my assistants
+      have put up with from this man you would feel differently about the
+      matter. I fully understand and respect the conscientious objection to
+      irregularities in judicial proceedings; but this is an exceptional case
+      and calls for exceptional measures.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no case,&rdquo; Montanelli answered, &ldquo;which calls for injustice; and
+      to condemn a civilian by the judgment of a secret military tribunal is
+      both unjust and illegal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The case amounts to this, Your Eminence: The prisoner is manifestly
+      guilty of several capital crimes. He joined the infamous attempt of
+      Savigno, and the military commission nominated by Monsignor Spinola would
+      certainly have had him shot or sent to the galleys then, had he not
+      succeeded in escaping to Tuscany. Since that time he has never ceased
+      plotting. He is known to be an influential member of one of the most
+      pestilent secret societies in the country. He is gravely suspected of
+      having consented to, if not inspired, the assassination of no less than
+      three confidential police agents. He has been caught&mdash;one might
+      almost say&mdash;in the act of smuggling firearms into the Legation. He
+      has offered armed resistance to authority and seriously wounded two
+      officials in the discharge of their duty, and he is now a standing menace
+      to the peace and order of the town. Surely, in such a case, a
+      court-martial is justifiable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whatever the man has done,&rdquo; Montanelli replied, &ldquo;he has the right to be
+      judged according to law.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The ordinary course of law involves delay, Your Eminence, and in this
+      case every moment is precious. Besides everything else, I am in constant
+      terror of his escaping.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If there is any danger of that, it rests with you to guard him more
+      closely.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do my best, Your Eminence, but I am dependent upon the prison staff,
+      and the man seems to have bewitched them all. I have changed the guard
+      four times within three weeks; I have punished the soldiers till I am
+      tired of it, and nothing is of any use. I can't prevent their carrying
+      letters backwards and forwards. The fools are in love with him as if he
+      were a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very curious. There must be something remarkable about him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's a remarkable amount of devilry&mdash;I beg pardon, Your Eminence,
+      but really this man is enough to try the patience of a saint. It's hardly
+      credible, but I have to conduct all the interrogations myself, for the
+      regular officer cannot stand it any longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's difficult to explain. Your Eminence, but you would understand if you
+      had once heard the way he goes on. One might think the interrogating
+      officer were the criminal and he the judge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what is there so terrible that he can do? He can refuse to answer
+      your questions, of course; but he has no weapon except silence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And a tongue like a razor. We are all mortal, Your Eminence, and most of
+      us have made mistakes in our time that we don't want published on the
+      house-tops. That's only human nature, and it's hard on a man to have his
+      little slips of twenty years ago raked up and thrown in his teeth&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has Rivarez brought up some personal secret of the interrogating
+      officer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, really&mdash;the poor fellow got into debt when he was a cavalry
+      officer, and borrowed a little sum from the regimental funds&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stole public money that had been intrusted to him, in fact?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it was very wrong, Your Eminence; but his friends paid it back
+      at once, and the affair was hushed up,&mdash;he comes of a good family,&mdash;and
+      ever since then he has been irreproachable. How Rivarez found out about it
+      I can't conceive; but the first thing he did at interrogation was to bring
+      up this old scandal&mdash;before the subaltern, too! And with as innocent
+      a face as if he were saying his prayers! Of course the story's all over
+      the Legation by now. If Your Eminence would only be present at one of the
+      interrogations, I am sure you would realize&mdash;&mdash; He needn't know
+      anything about it. You might overhear him from&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli turned round and looked at the Governor with an expression
+      which his face did not often wear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am a minister of religion,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;not a police-spy; and
+      eavesdropping forms no part of my professional duties.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&mdash;I didn't mean to give offence&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think we shall not get any good out of discussing this question
+      further. If you will send the prisoner here, I will have a talk with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I venture very respectfully to advise Your Eminence not to attempt it.
+      The man is perfectly incorrigible. It would be both safer and wiser to
+      overstep the letter of the law for this once, and get rid of him before he
+      does any more mischief. It is with great diffidence that I venture to
+      press the point after what Your Eminence has said; but after all I am
+      responsible to Monsignor the Legate for the order of the town&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I,&rdquo; Montanelli interrupted, &ldquo;am responsible to God and His Holiness
+      that there shall be no underhand dealing in my diocese. Since you press me
+      in the matter, colonel, I take my stand upon my privilege as Cardinal. I
+      will not allow a secret court-martial in this town in peace-time. I will
+      receive the prisoner here, and alone, at ten to-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As Your Eminence pleases,&rdquo; the Governor replied with sulky
+      respectfulness; and went away, grumbling to himself: &ldquo;They're about a
+      pair, as far as obstinacy goes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He told no one of the approaching interview till it was actually time to
+      knock off the prisoner's chains and start for the palace. It was quite
+      enough, as he remarked to his wounded nephew, to have this Most Eminent
+      son of Balaam's ass laying down the law, without running any risk of the
+      soldiers plotting with Rivarez and his friends to effect an escape on the
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the Gadfly, strongly guarded, entered the room where Montanelli was
+      writing at a table covered with papers, a sudden recollection came over
+      him, of a hot midsummer afternoon when he had sat turning over manuscript
+      sermons in a study much like this. The shutters had been closed, as they
+      were here, to keep out the heat, and a fruitseller's voice outside had
+      called: &ldquo;Fragola! Fragola!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook the hair angrily back from his eyes and set his mouth in a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli looked up from his papers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can wait in the hall,&rdquo; he said to the guards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May it please Your Eminence,&rdquo; began the sergeant, in a lowered voice and
+      with evident nervousness, &ldquo;the colonel thinks that this prisoner is
+      dangerous and that it would be better&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A sudden flash came into Montanelli's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can wait in the hall,&rdquo; he repeated quietly; and the sergeant,
+      saluting and stammering excuses with a frightened face, left the room with
+      his men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down, please,&rdquo; said the Cardinal, when the door was shut. The Gadfly
+      obeyed in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez,&rdquo; Montanelli began after a pause, &ldquo;I wish to ask you a few
+      questions, and shall be very much obliged to you if you will answer them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly smiled. &ldquo;My ch-ch-chief occupation at p-p-present is to be
+      asked questions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And&mdash;not to answer them? So I have heard; but these questions are
+      put by officials who are investigating your case and whose duty is to use
+      your answers as evidence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And th-those of Your Eminence?&rdquo; There was a covert insult in the tone
+      more than in the words, and the Cardinal understood it at once; but his
+      face did not lose its grave sweetness of expression.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mine,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;whether you answer them or not, will remain between you
+      and me. If they should trench upon your political secrets, of course you
+      will not answer. Otherwise, though we are complete strangers to each
+      other, I hope that you will do so, as a personal favour to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am ent-t-tirely at the service of Your Eminence.&rdquo; He said it with a
+      little bow, and a face that would have taken the heart to ask favours out
+      of the daughters of the horse-leech.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;First, then, you are said to have been smuggling firearms into this
+      district. What are they wanted for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;T-t-to k-k-kill rats with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a terrible answer. Are all your fellow-men rats in your eyes if
+      they cannot think as you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;S-s-some of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli leaned back in his chair and looked at him in silence for a
+      little while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that on your hand?&rdquo; he asked suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly glanced at his left hand. &ldquo;Old m-m-marks from the teeth of some
+      of the rats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse me; I was speaking of the other hand. That is a fresh hurt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The slender, flexible right hand was badly cut and grazed. The Gadfly held
+      it up. The wrist was swollen, and across it ran a deep and long black
+      bruise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a m-m-mere trifle, as you see,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;When I was arrested the
+      other day,&mdash;thanks to Your Eminence,&rdquo;&mdash;he made another little
+      bow,&mdash;&ldquo;one of the soldiers stamped on it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli took the wrist and examined it closely. &ldquo;How does it come to be
+      in such a state now, after three weeks?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;It is all inflamed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Possibly the p-p-pressure of the iron has not done it much good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Cardinal looked up with a frown.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have they been putting irons on a fresh wound?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;N-n-naturally, Your Eminence; that is what fresh wounds are for. Old
+      wounds are not much use. They will only ache; you c-c-can't make them burn
+      properly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli looked at him again in the same close, scrutinizing way; then
+      rose and opened a drawer full of surgical appliances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me the hand,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly, with a face as hard as beaten iron, held out the hand, and
+      Montanelli, after bathing the injured place, gently bandaged it. Evidently
+      he was accustomed to such work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will speak about the irons,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;And now I want to ask you
+      another question: What do you propose to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Th-th-that is very simply answered, Your Eminence. To escape if I can,
+      and if I can't, to die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why 'to die'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because if the Governor doesn't succeed in getting me shot, I shall be
+      sent to the galleys, and for me that c-c-comes to the same thing. I have
+      not got the health to live through it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli rested his arm on the table and pondered silently. The Gadfly
+      did not disturb him. He was leaning back with half-shut eyes, lazily
+      enjoying the delicious physical sensation of relief from the chains.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Supposing,&rdquo; Montanelli began again, &ldquo;that you were to succeed in
+      escaping; what should you do with your life?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have already told Your Eminence; I should k-k-kill rats.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You would kill rats. That is to say, that if I were to let you escape
+      from here now,&mdash;supposing I had the power to do so,&mdash;you would
+      use your freedom to foster violence and bloodshed instead of preventing
+      them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly raised his eyes to the crucifix on the wall. &ldquo;'Not peace, but a
+      sword';&mdash;at l-least I should be in good company. For my own part,
+      though, I prefer pistols.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez,&rdquo; said the Cardinal with unruffled composure, &ldquo;I have not
+      insulted you as yet, or spoken slightingly of your beliefs or friends. May
+      I not expect the same courtesy from you, or do you wish me to suppose that
+      an atheist cannot be a gentleman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, I q-quite forgot. Your Eminence places courtesy high among the
+      Christian virtues. I remember your sermon in Florence, on the occasion of
+      my c-controversy with your anonymous defender.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is one of the subjects about which I wished to speak to you. Would
+      you mind explaining to me the reason of the peculiar bitterness you seem
+      to feel against me? If you have simply picked me out as a convenient
+      target, that is another matter. Your methods of political controversy are
+      your own affair, and we are not discussing politics now. But I fancied at
+      the time that there was some personal animosity towards me; and if so, I
+      should be glad to know whether I have ever done you wrong or in any way
+      given you cause for such a feeling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Ever done him wrong! The Gadfly put up the bandaged hand to his throat. &ldquo;I
+      must refer Your Eminence to Shakspere,&rdquo; he said with a little laugh. &ldquo;It's
+      as with the man who can't endure a harmless, necessary cat. My antipathy
+      is a priest. The sight of the cassock makes my t-t-teeth ache.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, if it is only that&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; Montanelli dismissed the subject
+      with an indifferent gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;abuse is one thing and perversion of fact is another.
+      When you stated, in answer to my sermon, that I knew the identity of the
+      anonymous writer, you made a mistake,&mdash;I do not accuse you of wilful
+      falsehood,&mdash;and stated what was untrue. I am to this day quite
+      ignorant of his name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly put his head on one side, like an intelligent robin, looked at
+      him for a moment gravely, then suddenly threw himself back and burst into
+      a peal of laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;S-s-sancta simplicitas! Oh, you, sweet, innocent, Arcadian people&mdash;and
+      you never guessed! You n-never saw the cloven hoof?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli stood up. &ldquo;Am I to understand, Signor Rivarez, that you wrote
+      both sides of the controversy yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was a shame, I know,&rdquo; the Gadfly answered, looking up with wide,
+      innocent blue eyes. &ldquo;And you s-s-swallowed everything whole; just as if it
+      had been an oyster. It was very wrong; but oh, it w-w-was so funny!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli bit his lip and sat down again. He had realized from the first
+      that the Gadfly was trying to make him lose his temper, and had resolved
+      to keep it whatever happened; but he was beginning to find excuses for the
+      Governor's exasperation. A man who had been spending two hours a day for
+      the last three weeks in interrogating the Gadfly might be pardoned an
+      occasional swear-word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will drop that subject,&rdquo; he said quietly. &ldquo;What I wanted to see you
+      for particularly is this: My position here as Cardinal gives me some
+      voice, if I choose to claim my privilege, in the question of what is to be
+      done with you. The only use to which I should ever put such a privilege
+      would be to interfere in case of any violence to you which was not
+      necessary to prevent you from doing violence to others. I sent for you,
+      therefore, partly in order to ask whether you have anything to complain
+      of,&mdash;I will see about the irons; but perhaps there is something else,&mdash;and
+      partly because I felt it right, before giving my opinion, to see for
+      myself what sort of man you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have nothing to complain of, Your Eminence. 'A la guerre comme a la
+      guerre.' I am not a schoolboy, to expect any government to pat me on the
+      head for s-s-smuggling firearms onto its territory. It's only natural that
+      they should hit as hard as they can. As for what sort of man I am, you
+      have had a romantic confession of my sins once. Is not that enough; or
+      w-w-would you like me to begin again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand you,&rdquo; Montanelli said coldly, taking up a pencil and
+      twisting it between his fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Surely Your Eminence has not forgotten old Diego, the pilgrim?&rdquo; He
+      suddenly changed his voice and began to speak as Diego: &ldquo;I am a miserable
+      sinner&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The pencil snapped in Montanelli's hand. &ldquo;That is too much!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly leaned his head back with a soft little laugh, and sat watching
+      while the Cardinal paced silently up and down the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez,&rdquo; said Montanelli, stopping at last in front of him, &ldquo;you
+      have done a thing to me that a man who was born of a woman should hesitate
+      to do to his worst enemy. You have stolen in upon my private grief and
+      have made for yourself a mock and a jest out of the sorrow of a
+      fellow-man. I once more beg you to tell me: Have I ever done you wrong?
+      And if not, why have you played this heartless trick on me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly, leaning back against the chair-cushions, looked up with his
+      subtle, chilling, inscrutable smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It am-m-mused me, Your Eminence; you took it all so much to heart, and it
+      rem-m-minded me&mdash;a little bit&mdash;of a variety show&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli, white to the very lips, turned away and rang the bell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can take back the prisoner,&rdquo; he said when the guards came in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After they had gone he sat down at the table, still trembling with
+      unaccustomed indignation, and took up a pile of reports which had been
+      sent in to him by the parish priests of his diocese.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he pushed them away, and, leaning on the table, hid his face in
+      both hands. The Gadfly seemed to have left some terrible shadow of
+      himself, some ghostly trail of his personality, to haunt the room; and
+      Montanelli sat trembling and cowering, not daring to look up lest he
+      should see the phantom presence that he knew was not there. The spectre
+      hardly amounted to a hallucination. It was a mere fancy of overwrought
+      nerves; but he was seized with an unutterable dread of its shadowy
+      presence&mdash;of the wounded hand, the smiling, cruel mouth, the
+      mysterious eyes, like deep sea water&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He shook off the fancy and settled to his work. All day long he had
+      scarcely a free moment, and the thing did not trouble him; but going into
+      his bedroom late at night, he stopped on the threshold with a sudden shock
+      of fear. What if he should see it in a dream? He recovered himself
+      immediately and knelt down before the crucifix to pray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he lay awake the whole night through.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      MONTANELLI'S anger did not make him neglectful of his promise. He
+      protested so emphatically against the manner in which the Gadfly had been
+      chained that the unfortunate Governor, who by now was at his wit's end,
+      knocked off all the fetters in the recklessness of despair. &ldquo;How am I to
+      know,&rdquo; he grumbled to the adjutant, &ldquo;what His Eminence will object to
+      next? If he calls a simple pair of handcuffs 'cruelty,' he'll be
+      exclaiming against the window-bars presently, or wanting me to feed
+      Rivarez on oysters and truffles. In my young days malefactors were
+      malefactors and were treated accordingly, and nobody thought a traitor any
+      better than a thief. But it's the fashion to be seditious nowadays; and
+      His Eminence seems inclined to encourage all the scoundrels in the
+      country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see what business he has got to interfere at all,&rdquo; the adjutant
+      remarked. &ldquo;He is not a Legate and has no authority in civil and military
+      affairs. By law&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the use of talking about law? You can't expect anyone to respect
+      laws after the Holy Father has opened the prisons and turned the whole
+      crew of Liberal scamps loose on us! It's a positive infatuation! Of course
+      Monsignor Montanelli will give himself airs; he was quiet enough under His
+      Holiness the late Pope, but he's cock of the walk now. He has jumped into
+      favour all at once and can do as he pleases. How am I to oppose him? He
+      may have secret authorization from the Vatican, for all I know.
+      Everything's topsy-turvy now; you can't tell from day to day what may
+      happen next. In the good old times one knew what to be at, but nowadays&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor shook his head ruefully. A world in which Cardinals troubled
+      themselves over trifles of prison discipline and talked about the &ldquo;rights&rdquo;
+       of political offenders was a world that was growing too complex for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly, for his part, had returned to the fortress in a state of
+      nervous excitement bordering on hysteria. The meeting with Montanelli had
+      strained his endurance almost to breaking-point; and his final brutality
+      about the variety show had been uttered in sheer desperation, merely to
+      cut short an interview which, in another five minutes, would have ended in
+      tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Called up for interrogation in the afternoon of the same day, he did
+      nothing but go into convulsions of laughter at every question put to him;
+      and when the Governor, worried out of all patience, lost his temper and
+      began to swear, he only laughed more immoderately than ever. The unlucky
+      Governor fumed and stormed and threatened his refractory prisoner with
+      impossible punishments; but finally came, as James Burton had come long
+      ago, to the conclusion that it was mere waste of breath and temper to
+      argue with a person in so unreasonable a state of mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly was once more taken back to his cell; and there lay down upon
+      the pallet, in the mood of black and hopeless depression which always
+      succeeded to his boisterous fits. He lay till evening without moving,
+      without even thinking; he had passed, after the vehement emotion of the
+      morning, into a strange, half-apathetic state, in which his own misery was
+      hardly more to him than a dull and mechanical weight, pressing on some
+      wooden thing that had forgotten to be a soul. In truth, it was of little
+      consequence how all ended; the one thing that mattered to any sentient
+      being was to be spared unbearable pain, and whether the relief came from
+      altered conditions or from the deadening of the power to feel, was a
+      question of no moment. Perhaps he would succeed in escaping; perhaps they
+      would kill him; in any case he should never see the Padre again, and it
+      was all vanity and vexation of spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the warders brought in supper, and the Gadfly looked up with
+      heavy-eyed indifference.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What time is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Six o'clock. Your supper, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked with disgust at the stale, foul-smelling, half-cold mess, and
+      turned his head away. He was feeling bodily ill as well as depressed; and
+      the sight of the food sickened him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will be ill if you don't eat,&rdquo; said the soldier hurriedly. &ldquo;Take a
+      bit of bread, anyway; it'll do you good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man spoke with a curious earnestness of tone, lifting a piece of
+      sodden bread from the plate and putting it down again. All the conspirator
+      awoke in the Gadfly; he had guessed at once that there was something
+      hidden in the bread.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can leave it; I'll eat a bit by and by,&rdquo; he said carelessly. The door
+      was open, and he knew that the sergeant on the stairs could hear every
+      word spoken between them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door was locked on him again, and he had satisfied himself that
+      no one was watching at the spy-hole, he took up the piece of bread and
+      carefully crumbled it away. In the middle was the thing he had expected, a
+      bundle of small files. It was wrapped in a bit of paper, on which a few
+      words were written. He smoothed the paper out carefully and carried it to
+      what little light there was. The writing was crowded into so narrow a
+      space, and on such thin paper, that it was very difficult to read.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The door is unlocked, and there is no moon. Get the filing done as fast
+      as possible, and come by the passage between two and three. We are quite
+      ready and may not have another chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He crushed the paper feverishly in his hand. All the preparations were
+      ready, then, and he had only to file the window bars; how lucky it was
+      that the chains were off! He need not stop about filing them. How many
+      bars were there? Two, four; and each must be filed in two places: eight.
+      Oh, he could manage that in the course of the night if he made haste&mdash;&mdash;
+      How had Gemma and Martini contrived to get everything ready so quickly&mdash;disguises,
+      passports, hiding-places? They must have worked like cart-horses to do it&mdash;&mdash;
+      And it was her plan that had been adopted after all. He laughed a little
+      to himself at his own foolishness; as if it mattered whether the plan was
+      hers or not, once it was a good one! And yet he could not help being glad
+      that it was she who had struck on the idea of his utilizing the
+      subterranean passage, instead of letting himself down by a rope-ladder, as
+      the smugglers had at first suggested. Hers was the more complex and
+      difficult plan, but did not involve, as the other did, a risk to the life
+      of the sentinel on duty outside the east wall. Therefore, when the two
+      schemes had been laid before him, he had unhesitatingly chosen Gemma's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The arrangement was that the friendly guard who went by the nickname of
+      &ldquo;The Cricket&rdquo; should seize the first opportunity of unlocking, without the
+      knowledge of his fellows, the iron gate leading from the courtyard into
+      the subterranean passage underneath the ramparts, and should then replace
+      the key on its nail in the guard-room. The Gadfly, on receiving
+      information of this, was to file through the bars of his window, tear his
+      shirt into strips and plait them into a rope, by means of which he could
+      let himself down on to the broad east wall of the courtyard. Along this
+      wall he was to creep on hands and knees while the sentinel was looking in
+      the opposite direction, lying flat upon the masonry whenever the man
+      turned towards him. At the southeast corner was a half-ruined turret. It
+      was upheld, to some extent, by a thick growth of ivy; but great masses of
+      crumbling stone had fallen inward and lay in the courtyard, heaped against
+      the wall. From this turret he was to climb down by the ivy and the heaps
+      of stone into the courtyard; and, softly opening the unlocked gate, to
+      make his way along the passage to a subterranean tunnel communicating with
+      it. Centuries ago this tunnel had formed a secret corridor between the
+      fortress and a tower on the neighbouring hill; now it was quite disused
+      and blocked in many places by the falling in of the rocks. No one but the
+      smugglers knew of a certain carefully-hidden hole in the mountain-side
+      which they had bored through to the tunnel; no one suspected that stores
+      of forbidden merchandise were often kept, for weeks together, under the
+      very ramparts of the fortress itself, while the customs-officers were
+      vainly searching the houses of the sullen, wrathful-eyed mountaineers. At
+      this hole the Gadfly was to creep out on to the hillside, and make his way
+      in the dark to a lonely spot where Martini and a smuggler would be waiting
+      for him. The one great difficulty was that opportunities to unlock the
+      gate after the evening patrol did not occur every night, and the descent
+      from the window could not be made in very clear weather without too great
+      a risk of being observed by the sentinel. Now that there was really a fair
+      chance of success, it must not be missed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat down and began to eat some of the bread. It at least did not
+      disgust him like the rest of the prison food, and he must eat something to
+      keep up his strength.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had better lie down a bit, too, and try to get a little sleep; it would
+      not be safe to begin filing before ten o'clock, and he would have a hard
+      night's work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And so, after all, the Padre had been thinking of letting him escape! That
+      was like the Padre. But he, for his part, would never consent to it.
+      Anything rather than that! If he escaped, it should be his own doing and
+      that of his comrades; he would have no favours from priests.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How hot it was! Surely it must be going to thunder; the air was so close
+      and oppressive. He moved restlessly on the pallet and put the bandaged
+      right hand behind his head for a pillow; then drew it away again. How it
+      burned and throbbed! And all the old wounds were beginning to ache, with a
+      dull, faint persistence. What was the matter with them? Oh, absurd! It was
+      only the thundery weather. He would go to sleep and get a little rest
+      before beginning his filing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eight bars, and all so thick and strong! How many more were there left to
+      file? Surely not many. He must have been filing for hours,&mdash;interminable
+      hours&mdash;yes, of course, that was what made his arm ache&mdash;&mdash;
+      And how it ached; right through to the very bone! But it could hardly be
+      the filing that made his side ache so; and the throbbing, burning pain in
+      the lame leg&mdash;was that from filing?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He started up. No, he had not been asleep; he had been dreaming with open
+      eyes&mdash;dreaming of filing, and it was all still to do. There stood the
+      window-bars, untouched, strong and firm as ever. And there was ten
+      striking from the clock-tower in the distance. He must get to work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked through the spy-hole, and, seeing that no one was watching, took
+      one of the files from his breast.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      No, there was nothing the matter with him&mdash;nothing! It was all
+      imagination. The pain in his side was indigestion, or a chill, or some
+      such thing; not much wonder, after three weeks of this insufferable prison
+      food and air. As for the aching and throbbing all over, it was partly
+      nervous trouble and partly want of exercise. Yes, that was it, no doubt;
+      want of exercise. How absurd not to have thought of that before!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He would sit down a little bit, though, and let it pass before he got to
+      work. It would be sure to go over in a minute or two.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To sit still was worse than all. When he sat still he was at its mercy,
+      and his face grew gray with fear. No, he must get up and set to work, and
+      shake it off. It should depend upon his will to feel or not to feel; and
+      he would not feel, he would force it back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood up again and spoke to himself, aloud and distinctly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not ill; I have no time to be ill. I have those bars to file, and I
+      am not going to be ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he began to file.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A quarter-past ten&mdash;half-past ten&mdash;a quarter to eleven&mdash;&mdash;
+      He filed and filed, and every grating scrape of the iron was as though
+      someone were filing on his body and brain. &ldquo;I wonder which will be filed
+      through first,&rdquo; he said to himself with a little laugh; &ldquo;I or the bars?&rdquo;
+       And he set his teeth and went on filing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half-past eleven. He was still filing, though the hand was stiff and
+      swollen and would hardly grasp the tool. No, he dared not stop to rest; if
+      he once put the horrible thing down he should never have the courage to
+      begin again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sentinel moved outside the door, and the butt end of his carbine
+      scratched against the lintel. The Gadfly stopped and looked round, the
+      file still in his lifted hand. Was he discovered?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little round pellet had been shot through the spy-hole and was lying on
+      the floor. He laid down the file and stooped to pick up the round thing.
+      It was a bit of rolled paper.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      It was a long way to go down and down, with the black waves rushing about
+      him&mdash;how they roared&mdash;&mdash;!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, yes! He was only stooping down to pick up the paper. He was a bit
+      giddy; many people are when they stoop. There was nothing the matter with
+      him&mdash;nothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He picked it up, carried it to the light, and unfolded it steadily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come to-night, whatever happens; the Cricket will be transferred
+      to-morrow to another service. This is our only chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He destroyed the paper as he had done the former one, picked up his file
+      again, and went back to work, dogged and mute and desperate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One o'clock. He had been working for three hours now, and six of the eight
+      bars were filed. Two more, and then, to climb&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to recall the former occasions when these terrible attacks had
+      come on. The last had been the one at New Year; and he shuddered as he
+      remembered those five nights. But that time it had not come on so
+      suddenly; he had never known it so sudden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He dropped the file and flung out both hands blindly, praying, in his
+      utter desperation, for the first time since he had been an atheist;
+      praying to anything&mdash;to nothing&mdash;to everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not to-night! Oh, let me be ill to-morrow! I will bear anything to-morrow&mdash;only
+      not to-night!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood still for a moment, with both hands up to his temples; then he
+      took up the file once more, and once more went back to his work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Half-past one. He had begun on the last bar. His shirt-sleeve was bitten
+      to rags; there was blood on his lips and a red mist before his eyes, and
+      the sweat poured from his forehead as he filed, and filed, and filed&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      After sunrise Montanelli fell asleep. He was utterly worn out with the
+      restless misery of the night and slept for a little while quietly; then he
+      began to dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first he dreamed vaguely, confusedly; broken fragments of images and
+      fancies followed each other, fleeting and incoherent, but all filled with
+      the same dim sense of struggle and pain, the same shadow of indefinable
+      dread. Presently he began to dream of sleeplessness; the old, frightful,
+      familiar dream that had been a terror to him for years. And even as he
+      dreamed he recognized that he had been through it all before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was wandering about in a great empty place, trying to find some quiet
+      spot where he could lie down and sleep. Everywhere there were people,
+      walking up and down; talking, laughing, shouting; praying, ringing bells,
+      and clashing metal instruments together. Sometimes he would get away to a
+      little distance from the noise, and would lie down, now on the grass, now
+      on a wooden bench, now on some slab of stone. He would shut his eyes and
+      cover them with both hands to keep out the light; and would say to
+      himself: &ldquo;Now I will get to sleep.&rdquo; Then the crowds would come sweeping up
+      to him, shouting, yelling, calling him by name, begging him: &ldquo;Wake up!
+      Wake up, quick; we want you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again: he was in a great palace, full of gorgeous rooms, with beds and
+      couches and low soft lounges. It was night, and he said to himself: &ldquo;Here,
+      at last, I shall find a quiet place to sleep.&rdquo; But when he chose a dark
+      room and lay down, someone came in with a lamp, flashing the merciless
+      light into his eyes, and said: &ldquo;Get up; you are wanted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose and wandered on, staggering and stumbling like a creature wounded
+      to death; and heard the clocks strike one, and knew that half the night
+      was gone already&mdash;the precious night that was so short. Two, three,
+      four, five&mdash;by six o'clock the whole town would wake up and there
+      would be no more silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went into another room and would have lain down on a bed, but someone
+      started up from the pillows, crying out: &ldquo;This bed is mine!&rdquo; and he shrank
+      away with despair in his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hour after hour struck, and still he wandered on and on, from room to
+      room, from house to house, from corridor to corridor. The horrible gray
+      dawn was creeping near and nearer; the clocks were striking five; the
+      night was gone and he had found no rest. Oh, misery! Another day&mdash;another
+      day!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was in a long, subterranean corridor, a low, vaulted passage that
+      seemed to have no end. It was lighted with glaring lamps and chandeliers;
+      and through its grated roof came the sounds of dancing and laughter and
+      merry music. Up there, in the world of the live people overhead, there was
+      some festival, no doubt. Oh, for a place to hide and sleep; some little
+      place, were it even a grave! And as he spoke he stumbled over an open
+      grave. An open grave, smelling of death and rottenness&mdash;&mdash; Ah,
+      what matter, so he could but sleep!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This grave is mine!&rdquo; It was Gladys; and she raised her head and stared at
+      him over the rotting shroud. Then he knelt down and stretched out his arms
+      to her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gladys! Gladys! Have a little pity on me; let me creep into this narrow
+      space and sleep. I do not ask you for your love; I will not touch you,
+      will not speak to you; only let me lie down beside you and sleep! Oh,
+      love, it is so long since I have slept! I cannot bear another day. The
+      light glares in upon my soul; the noise is beating my brain to dust.
+      Gladys, let me come in here and sleep!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he would have drawn her shroud across his eyes. But she shrank away,
+      screaming:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is sacrilege; you are a priest!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On and on he wandered, and came out upon the sea-shore, on the barren
+      rocks where the fierce light struck down, and the water moaned its low,
+      perpetual wail of unrest. &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;the sea will be more merciful;
+      it, too, is wearied unto death and cannot sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Arthur rose up from the deep, and cried aloud:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This sea is mine!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence! Your Eminence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli awoke with a start. His servant was knocking at the door. He
+      rose mechanically and opened it, and the man saw how wild and scared he
+      looked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence&mdash;are you ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew both hands across his forehead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I was asleep, and you startled me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very sorry; I thought I had heard you moving early this morning, and
+      I supposed&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it late now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is nine o'clock, and the Governor has called. He says he has very
+      important business, and knowing Your Eminence to be an early riser&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he downstairs? I will come presently.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He dressed and went downstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid this is an unceremonious way to call upon Your Eminence,&rdquo; the
+      Governor began.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope there is nothing the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is very much the matter. Rivarez has all but succeeded in
+      escaping.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, so long as he has not quite succeeded there is no harm done. How
+      was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was found in the courtyard, right against the little iron gate. When
+      the patrol came in to inspect the courtyard at three o'clock this morning
+      one of the men stumbled over something on the ground; and when they
+      brought the light up they found Rivarez lying across the path unconscious.
+      They raised an alarm at once and called me up; and when I went to examine
+      his cell I found all the window-bars filed through and a rope made of torn
+      body-linen hanging from one of them. He had let himself down and climbed
+      along the wall. The iron gate, which leads into the subterranean tunnels,
+      was found to be unlocked. That looks as if the guards had been suborned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how did he come to be lying across the path? Did he fall from the
+      rampart and hurt himself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what I thought at first. Your Eminence; but the prison surgeon
+      can't find any trace of a fall. The soldier who was on duty yesterday says
+      that Rivarez looked very ill last night when he brought in the supper, and
+      did not eat anything. But that must be nonsense; a sick man couldn't file
+      those bars through and climb along that roof. It's not in reason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does he give any account of himself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is unconscious, Your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He just half comes to himself from time to time and moans, and then goes
+      off again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is very strange. What does the doctor think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He doesn't know what to think. There is no trace of heart-disease that he
+      can find to account for the thing; but whatever is the matter with him, it
+      is something that must have come on suddenly, just when he had nearly
+      managed to escape. For my part, I believe he was struck down by the direct
+      intervention of a merciful Providence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli frowned slightly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you going to do with him?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is a question I shall settle in a very few days. In the meantime I
+      have had a good lesson. That is what comes of taking off the irons&mdash;with
+      all due respect to Your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope,&rdquo; Montanelli interrupted, &ldquo;that you will at least not replace the
+      fetters while he is ill. A man in the condition you describe can hardly
+      make any more attempts to escape.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall take good care he doesn't,&rdquo; the Governor muttered to himself as
+      he went out. &ldquo;His Eminence can go hang with his sentimental scruples for
+      all I care. Rivarez is chained pretty tight now, and is going to stop so,
+      ill or not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how can it have happened? To faint away at the last moment, when
+      everything was ready; when he was at the very gate! It's like some hideous
+      joke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you,&rdquo; Martini answered, &ldquo;the only thing I can think of is that one
+      of these attacks must have come on, and that he must have struggled
+      against it as long as his strength lasted and have fainted from sheer
+      exhaustion when he got down into the courtyard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Marcone knocked the ashes savagely from his pipe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, anyhow, that's the end of it; we can't do anything for him now,
+      poor fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor fellow!&rdquo; Martini echoed, under his breath. He was beginning to
+      realise that to him, too, the world would look empty and dismal without
+      the Gadfly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does she think?&rdquo; the smuggler asked, glancing towards the other end
+      of the room, where Gemma sat alone, her hands lying idly in her lap, her
+      eyes looking straight before her into blank nothingness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not asked her; she has not spoken since I brought her the news. We
+      had best not disturb her just yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not appear to be conscious of their presence, but they both spoke
+      with lowered voices, as though they were looking at a corpse. After a
+      dreary little pause, Marcone rose and put away his pipe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will come back this evening,&rdquo; he said; but Martini stopped him with a
+      gesture.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't go yet; I want to speak to you.&rdquo; He dropped his voice still lower
+      and continued in almost a whisper:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you believe there is really no hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see what hope there can be now. We can't attempt it again. Even
+      if he were well enough to manage his part of the thing, we couldn't do our
+      share. The sentinels are all being changed, on suspicion. The Cricket
+      won't get another chance, you may be sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think,&rdquo; Martini asked suddenly; &ldquo;that, when he recovers,
+      something might be done by calling off the sentinels?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Calling off the sentinels? What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, it has occurred to me that if I were to get in the Governor's way
+      when the procession passes close by the fortress on Corpus Domini day and
+      fire in his face, all the sentinels would come rushing to get hold of me,
+      and some of you fellows could perhaps help Rivarez out in the confusion.
+      It really hardly amounts to a plan; it only came into my head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I doubt whether it could be managed,&rdquo; Marcone answered with a very grave
+      face. &ldquo;Certainly it would want a lot of thinking out for anything to come
+      of it. But&rdquo;&mdash;he stopped and looked at Martini&mdash;&ldquo;if it should be
+      possible&mdash;would you do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini was a reserved man at ordinary times; but this was not an ordinary
+      time. He looked straight into the smuggler's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would I do it?&rdquo; he repeated. &ldquo;Look at her!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no need for further explanations; in saying that he had said
+      all. Marcone turned and looked across the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She had not moved since their conversation began. There was no doubt, no
+      fear, even no grief in her face; there was nothing in it but the shadow of
+      death. The smuggler's eyes filled with tears as he looked at her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make haste, Michele!&rdquo; he said, throwing open the verandah door and
+      looking out. &ldquo;Aren't you nearly done, you two? There are a hundred and
+      fifty things to do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Michele, followed by Gino, came in from the verandah.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am ready now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I only want to ask the signora&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was moving towards her when Martini caught him by the arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't disturb her; she's better alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let her be!&rdquo; Marcone added. &ldquo;We shan't do any good by meddling. God
+      knows, it's hard enough on all of us; but it's worse for her, poor soul!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      FOR a week the Gadfly lay in a fearful state. The attack was a violent
+      one, and the Governor, rendered brutal by fear and perplexity, had not
+      only chained him hand and foot, but had insisted on his being bound to his
+      pallet with leather straps, drawn so tight that he could not move without
+      their cutting into the flesh. He endured everything with his dogged,
+      bitter stoicism till the end of the sixth day. Then his pride broke down,
+      and he piteously entreated the prison doctor for a dose of opium. The
+      doctor was quite willing to give it; but the Governor, hearing of the
+      request, sharply forbade &ldquo;any such foolery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you know what he wants it for?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It's just as likely as
+      not that he's shamming all the time and wants to drug the sentinel, or
+      some such devilry. Rivarez is cunning enough for anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My giving him a dose would hardly help him to drug the sentinel,&rdquo; replied
+      the doctor, unable to suppress a smile. &ldquo;And as for shamming&mdash;there's
+      not much fear of that. He is as likely as not to die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anyway, I won't have it given. If a man wants to be tenderly treated, he
+      should behave accordingly. He has thoroughly deserved a little sharp
+      discipline. Perhaps it will be a lesson to him not to play tricks with the
+      window-bars again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The law does not admit of torture, though,&rdquo; the doctor ventured to say;
+      &ldquo;and this is coming perilously near it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The law says nothing about opium, I think,&rdquo; said the Governor snappishly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is for you to decide, of course, colonel; but I hope you will let the
+      straps be taken off at any rate. They are a needless aggravation of his
+      misery. There's no fear of his escaping now. He couldn't stand if you let
+      him go free.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My good sir, a doctor may make a mistake like other people, I suppose. I
+      have got him safe strapped now, and he's going to stop so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least, then, have the straps a little loosened. It is downright
+      barbarity to keep them drawn so tight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They will stop exactly as they are; and I will thank you, sir, not to
+      talk about barbarity to me. If I do a thing, I have a reason for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the seventh night passed without any relief, and the soldier stationed
+      on guard at the cell door crossed himself, shuddering, over and over
+      again, as he listened all night long to heart-rending moans. The Gadfly's
+      endurance was failing him at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At six in the morning the sentinel, just before going off duty, unlocked
+      the door softly and entered the cell. He knew that he was committing a
+      serious breach of discipline, but could not bear to go away without
+      offering the consolation of a friendly word.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He found the Gadfly lying still, with closed eyes and parted lips. He
+      stood silent for a moment; then stooped down and asked:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can I do anything for you, sir? I have only a minute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly opened his eyes. &ldquo;Let me alone!&rdquo; he moaned. &ldquo;Let me alone&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was asleep almost before the soldier had slipped back to his post.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten days afterwards the Governor called again at the palace, but found
+      that the Cardinal had gone to visit a sick man at Pieve d'Ottavo, and was
+      not expected home till the afternoon. That evening, just as he was sitting
+      down to dinner, his servant came in to announce:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His Eminence would like to speak to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor, with a hasty glance into the looking glass, to make sure
+      that his uniform was in order, put on his most dignified air, and went
+      into the reception room, where Montanelli was sitting, beating his hand
+      gently on the arm of the chair and looking out of the window with an
+      anxious line between his brows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard that you called to-day,&rdquo; he said, cutting short the Governor's
+      polite speeches with a slightly imperious manner which he never adopted in
+      speaking to the country folk. &ldquo;It was probably on the business about which
+      I have been wishing to speak to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was about Rivarez, Your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I supposed. I have been thinking the matter over these last few days.
+      But before we go into that, I should like to hear whether you have
+      anything new to tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor pulled his moustaches with an embarrassed air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact is, I came to know whether Your Eminence had anything to tell
+      me. If you still have an objection to the course I proposed taking, I
+      should be sincerely glad of your advice in the matter; for, honestly, I
+      don't know what to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there any new difficulty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only that next Thursday is the 3d of June,&mdash;Corpus Domini,&mdash;and
+      somehow or other the matter must be settled before then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thursday is Corpus Domini, certainly; but why must it be settled
+      especially before then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am exceedingly sorry, Your Eminence, if I seem to oppose you, but I
+      can't undertake to be responsible for the peace of the town if Rivarez is
+      not got rid of before then. All the roughest set in the hills collects
+      here for that day, as Your Eminence knows, and it is more than probable
+      that they may attempt to break open the fortress gates and take him out.
+      They won't succeed; I'll take care of that, if I have to sweep them from
+      the gates with powder and shot. But we are very likely to have something
+      of that kind before the day is over. Here in the Romagna there is bad
+      blood in the people, and when once they get out their knives&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think with a little care we can prevent matters going as far as knives.
+      I have always found the people of this district easy to get on with, if
+      they are reasonably treated. Of course, if you once begin to threaten or
+      coerce a Romagnol he becomes unmanageable. But have you any reason for
+      supposing a new rescue scheme is intended?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard, both this morning and yesterday, from confidential agents of
+      mine, that a great many rumours are circulating all over the district and
+      that the people are evidently up to some mischief or other. But one can't
+      find out the details; if one could it would be easier to take precautions.
+      And for my part, after the fright we had the other day, I prefer to be on
+      the safe side. With such a cunning fox as Rivarez one can't be too
+      careful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The last I heard about Rivarez was that he was too ill to move or speak.
+      Is he recovering, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seems much better now, Your Eminence. He certainly has been very ill&mdash;unless
+      he was shamming all the time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you any reason for supposing that likely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, the doctor seems convinced that it was all genuine; but it's a very
+      mysterious kind of illness. Any way, he is recovering, and more
+      intractable than ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has he done now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's not much he can do, fortunately,&rdquo; the Governor answered, smiling
+      as he remembered the straps. &ldquo;But his behaviour is something
+      indescribable. Yesterday morning I went into the cell to ask him a few
+      questions; he is not well enough yet to come to me for interrogation&mdash;and
+      indeed, I thought it best not to run any risk of the people seeing him
+      until he recovers. Such absurd stories always get about at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you went there to interrogate him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Your Eminence. I hoped he would be more amenable to reason now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli looked him over deliberately, almost as if he had been
+      inspecting a new and disagreeable animal. Fortunately, however, the
+      Governor was fingering his sword-belt, and did not see the look. He went
+      on placidly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have not subjected him to any particular severities, but I have been
+      obliged to be rather strict with him&mdash;especially as it is a military
+      prison&mdash;and I thought that perhaps a little indulgence might have a
+      good effect. I offered to relax the discipline considerably if he would
+      behave in a reasonable manner; and how does Your Eminence suppose he
+      answered me? He lay looking at me a minute, like a wolf in a cage, and
+      then said quite softly: 'Colonel, I can't get up and strangle you; but my
+      teeth are pretty good; you had better take your throat a little further
+      off.' He is as savage as a wild-cat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not surprised to hear it,&rdquo; Montanelli answered quietly. &ldquo;But I came
+      to ask you a question. Do you honestly believe that the presence of
+      Rivarez in the prison here constitutes a serious danger to the peace of
+      the district?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most certainly I do, Your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think that, to prevent the risk of bloodshed, it is absolutely
+      necessary that he should somehow be got rid of before Corpus Domini?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can only repeat that if he is here on Thursday, I do not expect the
+      festival to pass over without a fight, and I think it likely to be a
+      serious one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you think that if he were not here there would be no such danger?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, there would either be no disturbance at all, or at most a
+      little shouting and stone-throwing. If Your Eminence can find some way of
+      getting rid of him, I will undertake that the peace shall be kept.
+      Otherwise, I expect most serious trouble. I am convinced that a new rescue
+      plot is on hand, and Thursday is the day when we may expect the attempt.
+      Now, if on that very morning they suddenly find that he is not in the
+      fortress at all, their plan fails of itself, and they have no occasion to
+      begin fighting. But if we have to repulse them, and the daggers once get
+      drawn among such throngs of people, we are likely to have the place burnt
+      down before nightfall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why do you not send him in to Ravenna?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Heaven knows, Your Eminence, I should be thankful to do it! But how am I
+      to prevent the people rescuing him on the way? I have not soldiers enough
+      to resist an armed attack; and all these mountaineers have got knives or
+      flint-locks or some such thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You still persist, then, in wishing for a court-martial, and in asking my
+      consent to it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me, Your Eminence; I ask you only one thing&mdash;to help me
+      prevent riots and bloodshed. I am quite willing to admit that the military
+      commissions, such as that of Colonel Freddi, were sometimes unnecessarily
+      severe, and irritated instead of subduing the people; but I think that in
+      this case a court-martial would be a wise measure and in the long run a
+      merciful one. It would prevent a riot, which in itself would be a terrible
+      disaster, and which very likely might cause a return of the military
+      commissions His Holiness has abolished.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor finished his little speech with much solemnity, and waited
+      for the Cardinal's answer. It was a long time coming; and when it came was
+      startlingly unexpected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Colonel Ferrari, do you believe in God?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence!&rdquo; the colonel gasped in a voice full of exclamation-stops.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you believe in God?&rdquo; Montanelli repeated, rising and looking down at
+      him with steady, searching eyes. The colonel rose too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence, I am a Christian man, and have never yet been refused
+      absolution.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli lifted the cross from his breast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then swear on the cross of the Redeemer Who died for you, that you have
+      been speaking the truth to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The colonel stood still and gazed at it blankly. He could not quite make
+      up his mind which was mad, he or the Cardinal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have asked me,&rdquo; Montanelli went on, &ldquo;to give my consent to a man's
+      death. Kiss the cross, if you dare, and tell me that you believe there is
+      no other way to prevent greater bloodshed. And remember that if you tell
+      me a lie you are imperilling your immortal soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      After a little pause, the Governor bent down and put the cross to his
+      lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe it,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli turned slowly away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will give you a definite answer to-morrow. But first I must see Rivarez
+      and speak to him alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence&mdash;if I might suggest&mdash;I am sure you will regret
+      it. For that matter, he sent me a message yesterday, by the guard, asking
+      to see Your Eminence; but I took no notice of it, because&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Took no notice!&rdquo; Montanelli repeated. &ldquo;A man in such circumstances sent
+      you a message, and you took no notice of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry if Your Eminence is displeased. I did not wish to trouble you
+      over a mere impertinence like that; I know Rivarez well enough by now to
+      feel sure that he only wanted to insult you. And, indeed, if you will
+      allow me to say so, it would be most imprudent to go near him alone; he is
+      really dangerous&mdash;so much so, in fact, that I have thought it
+      necessary to use some physical restraint of a mild kind&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you really think there is much danger to be apprehended from one sick
+      and unarmed man, who is under physical restraint of a mild kind?&rdquo;
+       Montanelli spoke quite gently, but the colonel felt the sting of his quiet
+      contempt, and flushed under it resentfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence will do as you think best,&rdquo; he said in his stiffest manner.
+      &ldquo;I only wished to spare you the pain of hearing this man's awful
+      blasphemies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which do you think the more grievous misfortune for a Christian man; to
+      hear a blasphemous word uttered, or to abandon a fellow-creature in
+      extremity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor stood erect and stiff, with his official face, like a face of
+      wood. He was deeply offended at Montanelli's treatment of him, and showed
+      it by unusual ceremoniousness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At what time does Your Eminence wish to visit the prisoner?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go to him at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As Your Eminence pleases. If you will kindly wait a few moments, I will
+      send someone to prepare him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor had come down from his official pedestal in a great hurry. He
+      did not want Montanelli to see the straps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you; I would rather see him as he is, without preparation. I will
+      go straight up to the fortress. Good-evening, colonel; you may expect my
+      answer to-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      HEARING the cell-door unlocked, the Gadfly turned away his eyes with
+      languid indifference. He supposed that it was only the Governor, coming to
+      worry him with another interrogation. Several soldiers mounted the narrow
+      stair, their carbines clanking against the wall; then a deferential voice
+      said: &ldquo;It is rather steep here, Your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He started convulsively, and then shrank down, catching his breath under
+      the stinging pressure of the straps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli came in with the sergeant and three guards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If Your Eminence will kindly wait a moment,&rdquo; the sergeant began
+      nervously, &ldquo;one of my men will bring a chair. He has just gone to fetch
+      it. Your Eminence will excuse us&mdash;if we had been expecting you, we
+      should have been prepared.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no need for any preparation. Will you kindly leave us alone,
+      sergeant; and wait at the foot of the stairs with your men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Your Eminence. Here is the chair; shall I put it beside him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly was lying with closed eyes; but he felt that Montanelli was
+      looking at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think he is asleep, Your Eminence,&rdquo; the sergeant was beginning, but the
+      Gadfly opened his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the soldiers were leaving the cell they were stopped by a sudden
+      exclamation from Montanelli; and, turning back, saw that he was bending
+      down to examine the straps.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who has been doing this?&rdquo; he asked. The sergeant fumbled with his cap.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was by the Governor's express orders, Your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had no idea of this, Signor Rivarez,&rdquo; Montanelli said in a voice of
+      great distress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told Your Eminence,&rdquo; the Gadfly answered, with his hard smile, &ldquo;that I
+      n-n-never expected to be patted on the head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sergeant, how long has this been going on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since he tried to escape, Your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is, nearly a week? Bring a knife and cut these off at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May it please Your Eminence, the doctor wanted to take them off, but
+      Colonel Ferrari wouldn't allow it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bring a knife at once.&rdquo; Montanelli had not raised his voice, but the
+      soldiers could see that he was white with anger. The sergeant took a
+      clasp-knife from his pocket, and bent down to cut the arm-strap. He was
+      not a skilful-fingered man; and he jerked the strap tighter with an
+      awkward movement, so that the Gadfly winced and bit his lip in spite of
+      all his self-control. Montanelli came forward at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know how to do it; give me the knife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah-h-h!&rdquo; The Gadfly stretched out his arms with a long, rapturous sigh as
+      the strap fell off. The next instant Montanelli had cut the other one,
+      which bound his ankles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take off the irons, too, sergeant; and then come here. I want to speak to
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood by the window, looking on, till the sergeant threw down the
+      fetters and approached him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;tell me everything that has been happening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sergeant, nothing loath, related all that he knew of the Gadfly's
+      illness, of the &ldquo;disciplinary measures,&rdquo; and of the doctor's unsuccessful
+      attempt to interfere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I think, Your Eminence,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;that the colonel wanted the
+      straps kept on as a means of getting evidence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Evidence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Your Eminence; the day before yesterday I heard him offer to have
+      them taken off if he&rdquo;&mdash;with a glance at the Gadfly&mdash;&ldquo;would
+      answer a question he had asked.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli clenched his hand on the window-sill, and the soldiers glanced
+      at one another: they had never seen the gentle Cardinal angry before. As
+      for the Gadfly, he had forgotten their existence; he had forgotten
+      everything except the physical sensation of freedom. He was cramped in
+      every limb; and now stretched, and turned, and twisted about in a positive
+      ecstasy of relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can go now, sergeant,&rdquo; the Cardinal said. &ldquo;You need not feel anxious
+      about having committed a breach of discipline; it was your duty to tell me
+      when I asked you. See that no one disturbs us. I will come out when I am
+      ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the door had closed behind the soldiers, he leaned on the window-sill
+      and looked for a while at the sinking sun, so as to leave the Gadfly a
+      little more breathing time.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard,&rdquo; he said presently, leaving the window, and sitting down
+      beside the pallet, &ldquo;that you wish to speak to me alone. If you feel well
+      enough to tell me what you wanted to say, I am at your service.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He spoke very coldly, with a stiff, imperious manner that was not natural
+      to him. Until the straps were off, the Gadfly was to him simply a
+      grievously wronged and tortured human being; but now he recalled their
+      last interview, and the deadly insult with which it had closed. The Gadfly
+      looked up, resting his head lazily on one arm. He possessed the gift of
+      slipping into graceful attitudes; and when his face was in shadow no one
+      would have guessed through what deep waters he had been passing. But, as
+      he looked up, the clear evening light showed how haggard and colourless he
+      was, and how plainly the trace of the last few days was stamped on him.
+      Montanelli's anger died away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid you have been terribly ill,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I am sincerely sorry
+      that I did not know of all this. I would have put a stop to it before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. &ldquo;All's fair in war,&rdquo; he said coolly.
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence objects to straps theoretically, from the Christian
+      standpoint; but it is hardly fair to expect the colonel to see that. He,
+      no doubt, would prefer not to try them on his own skin&mdash;which is
+      j-j-just my case. But that is a matter of p-p-personal convenience. At
+      this moment I am undermost&mdash;w-w-what would you have? It is very kind
+      of Your Eminence, though, to call here; but perhaps that was done from the
+      C-c-christian standpoint, too. Visiting prisoners&mdash;ah, yes! I forgot.
+      'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the l-least of these'&mdash;it's not
+      very complimentary, but one of the least is duly grateful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez,&rdquo; the Cardinal interrupted, &ldquo;I have come here on your
+      account&mdash;not on my own. If you had not been 'undermost,' as you call
+      it, I should never have spoken to you again after what you said to me last
+      week; but you have the double privilege of a prisoner and a sick man, and
+      I could not refuse to come. Have you anything to say to me, now I am here;
+      or have you sent for me merely to amuse yourself by insulting an old man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer. The Gadfly had turned away, and was lying with one
+      hand across his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am&mdash;very sorry to trouble you,&rdquo; he said at last, huskily; &ldquo;but
+      could I have a little water?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a jug of water standing by the window, and Montanelli rose and
+      fetched it. As he slipped his arm round the Gadfly to lift him, he
+      suddenly felt the damp, cold fingers close over his wrist like a vice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Give me your hand&mdash;quick&mdash;just a moment,&rdquo; the Gadfly whispered.
+      &ldquo;Oh, what difference does it make to you? Only one minute!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sank down, hiding his face on Montanelli's arm, and quivering from head
+      to foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drink a little water,&rdquo; Montanelli said after a moment. The Gadfly obeyed
+      silently; then lay back on the pallet with closed eyes. He himself could
+      have given no explanation of what had happened to him when Montanelli's
+      hand had touched his cheek; he only knew that in all his life there had
+      been nothing more terrible.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli drew his chair closer to the pallet and sat down. The Gadfly
+      was lying quite motionless, like a corpse, and his face was livid and
+      drawn. After a long silence, he opened his eyes, and fixed their haunting,
+      spectral gaze on the Cardinal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&mdash;am sorry. I think&mdash;you asked me
+      something?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not fit to talk. If there is anything you want to say to me, I
+      will try to come again to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please don't go, Your Eminence&mdash;indeed, there is nothing the matter
+      with me. I&mdash;I have been a little upset these few days; it was half of
+      it malingering, though&mdash;the colonel will tell you so if you ask him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I prefer to form my own conclusions,&rdquo; Montanelli answered quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;S-so does the colonel. And occasionally, do you know, they are rather
+      witty. You w-w-wouldn't think it to look at him; but s-s-sometimes he gets
+      hold of an or-r-riginal idea. On Friday night, for instance&mdash;I think
+      it was Friday, but I got a l-little mixed as to time towards the end&mdash;anyhow,
+      I asked for a d-dose of opium&mdash;I remember that quite distinctly; and
+      he came in here and said I m-might h-h-have it if I would tell him who
+      un-l-l-locked the gate. I remember his saying: 'If it's real, you'll
+      consent; if you don't, I shall look upon it as a p-proof that you are
+      shamming.' It n-n-never oc-c-curred to me before how comic that is; it's
+      one of the f-f-funniest things&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He burst into a sudden fit of harsh, discordant laughter; then, turning
+      sharply on the silent Cardinal, went on, more and more hurriedly, and
+      stammering so that the words were hardly intelligible:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You d-d-don't see that it's f-f-funny? Of c-course not; you r-religious
+      people n-n-never have any s-sense of humour&mdash;you t-take everything
+      t-t-tragically. F-for instance, that night in the Cath-thedral&mdash;how
+      solemn you were! By the way&mdash;w-what a path-thetic figure I must have
+      c-cut as the pilgrim! I d-don't believe you e-even see anything c-c-comic
+      in the b-business you have c-come about this evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came to hear what you have to say; but I think you are too much excited
+      to say it to-night. The doctor had better give you a sedative, and we will
+      talk to-morrow, when you have had a night's sleep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;S-sleep? Oh, I shall s-sleep well enough, Your Eminence, when you g-give
+      your c-consent to the colonel's plan&mdash;an ounce of l-lead is a
+      s-splendid sedative.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand you,&rdquo; Montanelli said, turning to him with a startled
+      look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly burst out laughing again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence, Your Eminence, t-t-truth is the c-chief of the Christian
+      virtues! D-d-do you th-th-think I d-d-don't know how hard the Governor has
+      been trying to g-get your consent to a court-martial? You had b-better by
+      half g-give it, Your Eminence; it's only w-what all your b-brother
+      prelates would do in your place. 'Cosi fan tutti;' and then you would be
+      doing s-such a lot of good, and so l-little harm! Really, it's n-not worth
+      all the sleepless nights you have been spending over it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please stop laughing a minute,&rdquo; Montanelli interrupted, &ldquo;and tell me how
+      you heard all this. Who has been talking to you about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;H-hasn't the colonel e-e-ever told you I am a d-d-devil&mdash;not a man?
+      No? He has t-told me so often enough! Well, I am devil enough to f-find
+      out a little bit what p-people are thinking about. Your E-eminence is
+      thinking that I'm a conf-founded nuisance, and you wish s-somebody else
+      had to settle what's to be done with me, without disturbing your
+      s-sensitive conscience. That's a p-pretty fair guess, isn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen to me,&rdquo; the Cardinal said, sitting down again beside him, with a
+      very grave face. &ldquo;However you found out all this, it is quite true.
+      Colonel Ferrari fears another rescue attempt on the part of your friends,
+      and wishes to forestall it in&mdash;the way you speak of. You see, I am
+      quite frank with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your E-eminence was always f-f-famous for truthfulness,&rdquo; the Gadfly put
+      in bitterly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know, of course,&rdquo; Montanelli went on, &ldquo;that legally I have no
+      jurisdiction in temporal matters; I am a bishop, not a legate. But I have
+      a good deal of influence in this district; and the colonel will not, I
+      think, venture to take so extreme a course unless he can get, at least, my
+      tacit consent to it. Up till now I have unconditionally opposed the
+      scheme; and he has been trying very hard to conquer my objection by
+      assuring me that there is great danger of an armed attempt on Thursday
+      when the crowd collects for the procession&mdash;an attempt which probably
+      would end in bloodshed. Do you follow me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly was staring absently out of the window. He looked round and
+      answered in a weary voice:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am listening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you are really not well enough to stand this conversation
+      to-night. Shall I come back in the morning? It is a very serious matter,
+      and I want your whole attention.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather get it over now,&rdquo; the Gadfly answered in the same tone. &ldquo;I
+      follow everything you say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, if it be true,&rdquo; Montanelli went on, &ldquo;that there is any real danger
+      of riots and bloodshed on account of you, I am taking upon myself a
+      tremendous responsibility in opposing the colonel; and I believe there is
+      at least some truth in what he says. On the other hand, I am inclined to
+      think that his judgment is warped, to a certain extent, by his personal
+      animosity against you, and that he probably exaggerates the danger. That
+      seems to me the more likely since I have seen this shameful brutality.&rdquo; He
+      glanced at the straps and chains lying on the floor, and went on:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I consent, I kill you; if I refuse, I run the risk of killing innocent
+      persons. I have considered the matter earnestly, and have sought with all
+      my heart for a way out of this dreadful alternative. And now at last I
+      have made up my mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To kill me and s-save the innocent persons, of course&mdash;the only
+      decision a Christian man could possibly come to. 'If thy r-right hand
+      offend thee,' etc. I have n-not the honour to be the right hand of Your
+      Eminence, and I have offended you; the c-c-conclusion is plain. Couldn't
+      you tell me that without so much preamble?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly spoke with languid indifference and contempt, like a man weary
+      of the whole subject.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he added after a little pause. &ldquo;Was that the decision, Your
+      Eminence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly shifted his position, putting both hands behind his head, and
+      looked at Montanelli with half-shut eyes. The Cardinal, with his head sunk
+      down as in deep thought, was softly beating one hand on the arm of his
+      chair. Ah, that old, familiar gesture!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have decided,&rdquo; he said, raising his head at last, &ldquo;to do, I suppose, an
+      utterly unprecedented thing. When I heard that you had asked to see me, I
+      resolved to come here and tell you everything, as I have done, and to
+      place the matter in your own hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In&mdash;my hands?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez, I have not come to you as cardinal, or as bishop, or as
+      judge; I have come to you as one man to another. I do not ask you to tell
+      me whether you know of any such scheme as the colonel apprehends. I
+      understand quite well that, if you do, it is your secret and you will not
+      tell it. But I do ask you to put yourself in my place. I am old, and, no
+      doubt, have not much longer to live. I would go down to my grave without
+      blood on my hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is there none on them as yet, Your Eminence?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli grew a shade paler, but went on quietly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All my life I have opposed repressive measures and cruelty wherever I
+      have met with them. I have always disapproved of capital punishment in all
+      its forms; I have protested earnestly and repeatedly against the military
+      commissions in the last reign, and have been out of favour on account of
+      doing so. Up till now such influence and power as I have possessed have
+      always been employed on the side of mercy. I ask you to believe me, at
+      least, that I am speaking the truth. Now, I am placed in this dilemma. By
+      refusing, I am exposing the town to the danger of riots and all their
+      consequences; and this to save the life of a man who blasphemes against my
+      religion, who has slandered and wronged and insulted me personally (though
+      that is comparatively a trifle), and who, as I firmly believe, will put
+      that life to a bad use when it is given to him. But&mdash;it is to save a
+      man's life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused a moment, and went on again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Signor Rivarez, everything that I know of your career seems to me bad and
+      mischievous; and I have long believed you to be reckless and violent and
+      unscrupulous. To some extent I hold that opinion of you still. But during
+      this last fortnight you have shown me that you are a brave man and that
+      you can be faithful to your friends. You have made the soldiers love and
+      admire you, too; and not every man could have done that. I think that
+      perhaps I have misjudged you, and that there is in you something better
+      than what you show outside. To that better self in you I appeal, and
+      solemnly entreat you, on your conscience, to tell me truthfully&mdash;in
+      my place, what would you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A long silence followed; then the Gadfly looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At least, I would decide my own actions for myself, and take the
+      consequences of them. I would not come sneaking to other people, in the
+      cowardly Christian way, asking them to solve my problems for me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The onslaught was so sudden, and its extraordinary vehemence and passion
+      were in such startling contrast to the languid affectation of a moment
+      before, that it was as though he had thrown off a mask.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We atheists,&rdquo; he went on fiercely, &ldquo;understand that if a man has a thing
+      to bear, he must bear it as best he can; and if he sinks under it&mdash;why,
+      so much the worse for him. But a Christian comes whining to his God, or
+      his saints; or, if they won't help him, to his enemies&mdash;he can always
+      find a back to shift his burdens on to. Isn't there a rule to go by in
+      your Bible, or your Missal, or any of your canting theology books, that
+      you must come to me to tell you what to do? Heavens and earth, man!
+      Haven't I enough as it is, without your laying your responsibilities on my
+      shoulders? Go back to your Jesus; he exacted the uttermost farthing, and
+      you'd better do the same. After all, you'll only be killing an atheist&mdash;a
+      man who boggles over 'shibboleth'; and that's no great crime, surely!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off, panting for breath, and then burst out again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And YOU to talk of cruelty! Why, that p-p-pudding-headed ass couldn't
+      hurt me as much as you do if he tried for a year; he hasn't got the
+      brains. All he can think of is to pull a strap tight, and when he can't
+      get it any tighter he's at the end of his resources. Any fool can do that!
+      But you&mdash;&mdash; 'Sign your own death sentence, please; I'm too
+      tender-hearted to do it myself.' Oh! it would take a Christian to hit on
+      that&mdash;a gentle, compassionate Christian, that turns pale at the sight
+      of a strap pulled too tight! I might have known when you came in, like an
+      angel of mercy&mdash;so shocked at the colonel's 'barbarity'&mdash;that
+      the real thing was going to begin! Why do you look at me that way?
+      Consent, man, of course, and go home to your dinner; the thing's not worth
+      all this fuss. Tell your colonel he can have me shot, or hanged, or
+      whatever comes handiest&mdash;roasted alive, if it's any amusement to him&mdash;and
+      be done with it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly was hardly recognizable; he was beside himself with rage and
+      desperation, panting and quivering, his eyes glittering with green
+      reflections like the eyes of an angry cat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli had risen, and was looking down at him silently. He did not
+      understand the drift of the frenzied reproaches, but he understood out of
+      what extremity they were uttered; and, understanding that, forgave all
+      past insults.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hush!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I did not want to hurt you so. Indeed, I never meant to
+      shift my burden on to you, who have too much already. I have never
+      consciously done that to any living creature&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's a lie!&rdquo; the Gadfly cried out with blazing eyes. &ldquo;And the bishopric?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The&mdash;bishopric?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! you've forgotten that? It's so easy to forget! 'If you wish it,
+      Arthur, I will say I cannot go. I was to decide your life for you&mdash;I,
+      at nineteen! If it weren't so hideous, it would be funny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; Montanelli put up both hands to his head with a desperate cry. He
+      let them fall again, and walked slowly away to the window. There he sat
+      down on the sill, resting one arm on the bars, and pressing his forehead
+      against it. The Gadfly lay and watched him, trembling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently Montanelli rose and came back, with lips as pale as ashes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very sorry,&rdquo; he said, struggling piteously to keep up his usual
+      quiet manner, &ldquo;but I must go home. I&mdash;am not quite well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was shivering as if with ague. All the Gadfly's fury broke down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre, can't you see&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli shrank away, and stood still.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only not that!&rdquo; he whispered at last. &ldquo;My God, anything but that! If I am
+      going mad&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly raised himself on one arm, and took the shaking hands in his.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre, will you never understand that I am not really drowned?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The hands grew suddenly cold and stiff. For a moment everything was dead
+      with silence, and then Montanelli knelt down and hid his face on the
+      Gadfly's breast.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      When he raised his head the sun had set, and the red glow was dying in the
+      west. They had forgotten time and place, and life and death; they had
+      forgotten, even, that they were enemies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur,&rdquo; Montanelli whispered, &ldquo;are you real? Have you come back to me
+      from the dead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From the dead&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo; the Gadfly repeated, shivering. He was lying
+      with his head on Montanelli's arm, as a sick child might lie in its
+      mother's embrace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have come back&mdash;you have come back at last!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly sighed heavily. &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;and you have to fight me, or
+      to kill me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, hush, carino! What is all that now? We have been like two children
+      lost in the dark, mistaking one another for phantoms. Now we have found
+      each other, and have come out into the light. My poor boy, how changed you
+      are&mdash;how changed you are! You look as if all the ocean of the world's
+      misery had passed over your head&mdash;you that used to be so full of the
+      joy of life! Arthur, is it really you? I have dreamed so often that you
+      had come back to me; and then have waked and seen the outer darkness
+      staring in upon an empty place. How can I know I shall not wake again and
+      find it all a dream? Give me something tangible&mdash;tell me how it all
+      happened.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It happened simply enough. I hid on a goods vessel, as stowaway, and got
+      out to South America.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There I&mdash;lived, if you like to call it so, till&mdash;oh, I have
+      seen something else besides theological seminaries since you used to teach
+      me philosophy! You say you have dreamed of me&mdash;yes, and much! You say
+      you have dreamed of me&mdash;yes, and I of you&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke off, shuddering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Once,&rdquo; he began again abruptly, &ldquo;I was working at a mine in Ecuador&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not as a miner?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, as a miner's fag&mdash;odd-jobbing with the coolies. We had a barrack
+      to sleep in at the pit's mouth; and one night&mdash;I had been ill, the
+      same as lately, and carrying stones in the blazing sun&mdash;I must have
+      got light-headed, for I saw you come in at the door-way. You were holding
+      a crucifix like that one on the wall. You were praying, and brushed past
+      me without turning. I cried out to you to help me&mdash;to give me poison
+      or a knife&mdash;something to put an end to it all before I went mad. And
+      you&mdash;ah&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli was still clasping the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw in your face that you had heard, but you never looked round; you
+      went on with your prayers. When you had finished, and kissed the crucifix,
+      you glanced round and whispered: 'I am very sorry for you, Arthur; but I
+      daren't show it; He would be angry.' And I looked at Him, and the wooden
+      image was laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, when I came to my senses, and saw the barrack and the coolies with
+      their leprosy, I understood. I saw that you care more to curry favour with
+      that devilish God of yours than to save me from any hell. And I have
+      remembered that. I forgot just now when you touched me; I&mdash;have been
+      ill, and I used to love you once. But there can be nothing between us but
+      war, and war, and war. What do you want to hold my hand for? Can't you see
+      that while you believe in your Jesus we can't be anything but enemies?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur, how can I help believing in Him? If I have kept my faith through
+      all these frightful years, how can I ever doubt Him any more, now that He
+      has given you back to me? Remember, I thought I had killed you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have that still to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur!&rdquo; It was a cry of actual terror; but the Gadfly went on,
+      unheeding:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us be honest, whatever we do, and not shilly-shally. You and I stand
+      on two sides of a pit, and it's hopeless trying to join hands across it.
+      If you have decided that you can't, or won't, give up that thing&rdquo;&mdash;he
+      glanced again at the crucifix on the wall&mdash;&ldquo;you must consent to what
+      the colonel&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Consent! My God&mdash;consent&mdash;Arthur, but I love you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which do you love best, me or that thing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli slowly rose. The very soul in him withered with dread, and he
+      seemed to shrivel up bodily, and to grow feeble, and old, and wilted, like
+      a leaf that the frost has touched. He had awaked out of his dream, and the
+      outer darkness was staring in upon an empty place.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur, have just a little mercy on me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much had you for me when your lies drove me out to be slave to the
+      blacks on the sugar-plantations? You shudder at that&mdash;ah, these
+      tender-hearted saints! This is the man after God's own heart&mdash;the man
+      that repents of his sin and lives. No one dies but his son. You say you
+      love me,&mdash;your love has cost me dear enough! Do you think I can blot
+      out everything, and turn back into Arthur at a few soft words&mdash;I,
+      that have been dish-washer in filthy half-caste brothels and stable-boy to
+      Creole farmers that were worse brutes than their own cattle? I, that have
+      been zany in cap and bells for a strolling variety show&mdash;drudge and
+      Jack-of-all-trades to the matadors in the bull-fighting ring; I, that have
+      been slave to every black beast who cared to set his foot on my neck; I,
+      that have been starved and spat upon and trampled under foot; I, that have
+      begged for mouldy scraps and been refused because the dogs had the first
+      right? Oh, what is the use of all this! How can I TELL you what you have
+      brought on me? And now&mdash;you love me! How much do you love me? Enough
+      to give up your God for me? Oh, what has He done for you, this everlasting
+      Jesus,&mdash;what has He suffered for you, that you should love Him more
+      than me? Is it for the pierced hands He is so dear to you? Look at mine!
+      Look here, and here, and here&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tore open his shirt and showed the ghastly scars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre, this God of yours is an impostor, His wounds are sham wounds, His
+      pain is all a farce! It is I that have the right to your heart! Padre,
+      there is no torture you have not put me to; if you could only know what my
+      life has been! And yet I would not die! I have endured it all, and have
+      possessed my soul in patience, because I would come back and fight this
+      God of yours. I have held this purpose as a shield against my heart, and
+      it has saved me from madness, and from the second death. And now, when I
+      come back, I find Him still in my place&mdash;this sham victim that was
+      crucified for six hours, forsooth, and rose again from the dead! Padre, I
+      have been crucified for five years, and I, too, have risen from the dead.
+      What are you going to do with me? What are you going to do with me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He broke down. Montanelli sat like some stone image, or like a dead man
+      set upright. At first, under the fiery torrent of the Gadfly's despair, he
+      had quivered a little, with the automatic shrinking of the flesh, as under
+      the lash of a whip; but now he was quite still. After a long silence he
+      looked up and spoke, lifelessly, patiently:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arthur, will you explain to me more clearly? You confuse and terrify me
+      so, I can't understand. What is it you demand of me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly turned to him a spectral face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I demand nothing. Who shall compel love? You are free to choose between
+      us two the one who is most dear to you. If you love Him best, choose Him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't understand,&rdquo; Montanelli repeated wearily. &ldquo;What is there I can
+      choose? I cannot undo the past.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have to choose between us. If you love me, take that cross off your
+      neck and come away with me. My friends are arranging another attempt, and
+      with your help they could manage it easily. Then, when we are safe over
+      the frontier, acknowledge me publicly. But if you don't love me enough for
+      that,&mdash;if this wooden idol is more to you than I,&mdash;then go to
+      the colonel and tell him you consent. And if you go, then go at once, and
+      spare me the misery of seeing you. I have enough without that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli looked up, trembling faintly. He was beginning to understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will communicate with your friends, of course. But&mdash;to go with you&mdash;it
+      is impossible&mdash;I am a priest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I accept no favours from priests. I will have no more compromises,
+      Padre; I have had enough of them, and of their consequences. You must give
+      up your priesthood, or you must give up me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I give you up? Arthur, how can I give you up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then give up Him. You have to choose between us. Would you offer me a
+      share of your love&mdash;half for me, half for your fiend of a God? I will
+      not take His leavings. If you are His, you are not mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you have me tear my heart in two? Arthur! Arthur! Do you want to
+      drive me mad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly struck his hand against the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have to choose between us,&rdquo; he repeated once more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli drew from his breast a little case containing a bit of soiled
+      and crumpled paper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believed in you, as I believed in God. God is a thing made of clay,
+      that I can smash with a hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly laughed and handed it back. &ldquo;How d-d-delightfully young one is
+      at nineteen! To take a hammer and smash things seems so easy. It's that
+      now&mdash;only it's I that am under the hammer. As for you, there are
+      plenty of other people you can fool with lies&mdash;and they won't even
+      find you out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you will,&rdquo; Montanelli said. &ldquo;Perhaps in your place I should be as
+      merciless as you&mdash;God knows. I can't do what you ask, Arthur; but I
+      will do what I can. I will arrange your escape, and when you are safe I
+      will have an accident in the mountains, or take the wrong sleeping-draught
+      by mistake&mdash;whatever you like to choose. Will that content you? It is
+      all I can do. It is a great sin; but I think He will forgive me. He is
+      more merciful&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly flung out both hands with a sharp cry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is too much! That is too much! What have I done that you should
+      think of me that way? What right have you&mdash;&mdash; As if I wanted to
+      be revenged on you! Can't you see that I only want to save you? Will you
+      never understand that I love you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He caught hold of Montanelli's hands and covered them with burning kisses
+      and tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre, come away with us! What have you to do with this dead world of
+      priests and idols? They are full of the dust of bygone ages; they are
+      rotten; they are pestilent and foul! Come out of this plague-stricken
+      Church&mdash;come away with us into the light! Padre, it is we that are
+      life and youth; it is we that are the everlasting springtime; it is we
+      that are the future! Padre, the dawn is close upon us&mdash;will you miss
+      your part in the sunrise? Wake up, and let us forget the horrible
+      nightmares,&mdash;wake up, and we will begin our life again! Padre, I have
+      always loved you&mdash;always, even when you killed me&mdash;will you kill
+      me again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli tore his hands away. &ldquo;Oh, God have mercy on me!&rdquo; he cried out.
+      &ldquo;YOU HAVE YOUR MOTHER'S EYES!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A strange silence, long and deep and sudden, fell upon them both. In the
+      gray twilight they looked at each other, and their hearts stood still with
+      fear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you anything more to say?&rdquo; Montanelli whispered. &ldquo;Any&mdash;hope to
+      give me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. My life is of no use to me except to fight priests. I am not a man; I
+      am a knife. If you let me live, you sanction knives.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli turned to the crucifix. &ldquo;God! Listen to this&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His voice died away into the empty stillness without response. Only the
+      mocking devil awoke again in the Gadfly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'C-c-call him louder; perchance he s-s-sleepeth'&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli started up as if he had been struck. For a moment he stood
+      looking straight before him;&mdash;then he sat down on the edge of the
+      pallet, covered his face with both hands, and burst into tears. A long
+      shudder passed through the Gadfly, and the damp cold broke out on his
+      body. He knew what the tears meant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He drew the blanket over his head that he might not hear. It was enough
+      that he had to die&mdash;he who was so vividly, magnificently alive. But
+      he could not shut out the sound; it rang in his ears, it beat in his
+      brain, it throbbed in all his pulses. And still Montanelli sobbed and
+      sobbed, and the tears dripped down between his fingers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He left off sobbing at last, and dried his eyes with his handkerchief,
+      like a child that has been crying. As he stood up the handkerchief slipped
+      from his knee and fell to the floor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no use in talking any more,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand,&rdquo; the Gadfly answered, with dull submission. &ldquo;It's not your
+      fault. Your God is hungry, and must be fed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli turned towards him. The grave that was to be dug was not more
+      still than they were. Silent, they looked into each other's eyes, as two
+      lovers, torn apart, might gaze across the barrier they cannot pass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the Gadfly whose eyes sank first. He shrank down, hiding his face;
+      and Montanelli understood that the gesture meant &ldquo;Go!&rdquo; He turned, and went
+      out of the cell. A moment later the Gadfly started up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I can't bear it! Padre, come back! Come back!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The door was shut. He looked around him slowly, with a wide, still gaze,
+      and understood that all was over. The Galilean had conquered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All night long the grass waved softly in the courtyard below&mdash;the
+      grass that was so soon to wither, uprooted by the spade; and all night
+      long the Gadfly lay alone in the darkness, and sobbed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      THE court-martial was held on Tuesday morning. It was a very short and
+      simple affair; a mere formality, occupying barely twenty minutes. There
+      was, indeed, nothing to spend much time over; no defence was allowed, and
+      the only witnesses were the wounded spy and officer and a few soldiers.
+      The sentence was drawn up beforehand; Montanelli had sent in the desired
+      informal consent; and the judges (Colonel Ferrari, the local major of
+      dragoons, and two officers of the Swiss guards) had little to do. The
+      indictment was read aloud, the witnesses gave their evidence, and the
+      signatures were affixed to the sentence, which was then read to the
+      condemned man with befitting solemnity. He listened in silence; and when
+      asked, according to the usual form, whether he had anything to say, merely
+      waved the question aside with an impatient movement of his hand. Hidden on
+      his breast was the handkerchief which Montanelli had let fall. It had been
+      kissed and wept over all night, as though it were a living thing. Now he
+      looked wan and spiritless, and the traces of tears were still about his
+      eyelids; but the words: &ldquo;to be shot,&rdquo; did not seem to affect him much.
+      When they were uttered, the pupils of his eyes dilated, but that was all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take him back to his cell,&rdquo; the Governor said, when all the formalities
+      were over; and the sergeant, who was evidently near to breaking down,
+      touched the motionless figure on the shoulder. The Gadfly looked round him
+      with a little start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I forgot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was something almost like pity in the Governor's face. He was not a
+      cruel man by nature, and was secretly a little ashamed of the part he had
+      been playing during the last month. Now that his main point was gained he
+      was willing to make every little concession in his power.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn't put the irons on again,&rdquo; he said, glancing at the bruised and
+      swollen wrists. &ldquo;And he can stay in his own cell. The condemned cell is
+      wretchedly dark and gloomy,&rdquo; he added, turning to his nephew; &ldquo;and really
+      the thing's a mere formality.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He coughed and shifted his feet in evident embarrassment; then called back
+      the sergeant, who was leaving the room with his prisoner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait, sergeant; I want to speak to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly did not move, and the Governor's voice seemed to fall on
+      unresponsive ears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you have any message you would like conveyed to your friends or
+      relatives&mdash;&mdash; You have relatives, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, think it over and tell me, or the priest. I will see it is not
+      neglected. You had better give your messages to the priest; he shall come
+      at once, and stay the night with you. If there is any other wish&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell the priest I would rather be alone. I have no friends and no
+      messages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you will want to confess.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am an atheist. I want nothing but to be left in peace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He said it in a dull, quiet voice, without defiance or irritation; and
+      turned slowly away. At the door he stopped again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forgot, colonel; there is a favour I wanted to ask. Don't let them tie
+      me or bandage my eyes to-morrow, please. I will stand quite still.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      At sunrise on Wednesday morning they brought him out into the courtyard.
+      His lameness was more than usually apparent, and he walked with evident
+      difficulty and pain, leaning heavily on the sergeant's arm; but all the
+      weary submission had gone out of his face. The spectral terrors that had
+      crushed him down in the empty silence, the visions and dreams of the world
+      of shadows, were gone with the night which gave them birth; and once the
+      sun was shining and his enemies were present to rouse the fighting spirit
+      in him, he was not afraid.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The six carabineers who had been told off for the execution were drawn up
+      in line against the ivied wall; the same crannied and crumbling wall down
+      which he had climbed on the night of his unlucky attempt. They could
+      hardly refrain from weeping as they stood together, each man with his
+      carbine in his hand. It seemed to them a horror beyond imagination that
+      they should be called out to kill the Gadfly. He and his stinging
+      repartees, his perpetual laughter, his bright, infectious courage, had
+      come into their dull and dreary lives like a wandering sunbeam; and that
+      he should die, and at their hands, was to them as the darkening of the
+      clear lamps of heaven.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Under the great fig-tree in the courtyard, his grave was waiting for him.
+      It had been dug in the night by unwilling hands; and tears had fallen on
+      the spade. As he passed he looked down, smiling, at the black pit and the
+      withering grass beside it; and drew a long breath, to smell the scent of
+      the freshly turned earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Near the tree the sergeant stopped short, and the Gadfly looked round with
+      his brightest smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I stand here, sergeant?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man nodded silently; there was a lump in his throat, and he could not
+      have spoken to save his life. The Governor, his nephew, the lieutenant of
+      carabineers who was to command, a doctor and a priest were already in the
+      courtyard, and came forward with grave faces, half abashed under the
+      radiant defiance of the Gadfly's laughing eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;G-good morning, gentlemen! Ah, and his reverence is up so early, too! How
+      do you do, captain? This is a pleasanter occasion for you than our former
+      meeting, isn't it? I see your arm is still in a sling; that's because I
+      bungled my work. These good fellows will do theirs better&mdash;won't you,
+      lads?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He glanced round at the gloomy faces of the carabineers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There'll be no need of slings this time, any way. There, there, you
+      needn't look so doleful over it! Put your heels together and show how
+      straight you can shoot. Before long there'll be more work cut out for you
+      than you'll know how to get through, and there's nothing like practice
+      beforehand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son,&rdquo; the priest interrupted, coming forward, while the others drew
+      back to leave them alone together; &ldquo;in a few minutes you must enter into
+      the presence of your Maker. Have you no other use but this for these last
+      moments that are left you for repentance? Think, I entreat you, how
+      dreadful a thing it is to die without absolution, with all your sins upon
+      your head. When you stand before your Judge it will be too late to repent.
+      Will you approach His awful throne with a jest upon your lips?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A jest, your reverence? It is your side that needs that little homily, I
+      think. When our turn comes we shall use field-guns instead of half a dozen
+      second-hand carbines, and then you'll see how much we're in jest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOU will use field-guns! Oh, unhappy man! Have you still not realized on
+      what frightful brink you stand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly glanced back over his shoulder at the open grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And s-s-so your reverence thinks that, when you have put me down there,
+      you will have done with me? Perhaps you will lay a stone on the top to
+      pre-v-vent a r-resurrection 'after three days'? No fear, your reverence! I
+      shan't poach on the monopoly in cheap theatricals; I shall lie as still as
+      a m-mouse, just where you put me. And all the same, WE shall use
+      field-guns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, merciful God,&rdquo; the priest cried out; &ldquo;forgive this wretched man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Amen!&rdquo; murmured the lieutenant of carabineers, in a deep bass growl,
+      while the colonel and his nephew crossed themselves devoutly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As there was evidently no hope of further insistence producing any effect,
+      the priest gave up the fruitless attempt and moved aside, shaking his head
+      and murmuring a prayer. The short and simple preparations were made
+      without more delay, and the Gadfly placed himself in the required
+      position, only turning his head to glance up for a moment at the red and
+      yellow splendour of the sunrise. He had repeated the request that his eyes
+      might not be bandaged, and his defiant face had wrung from the colonel a
+      reluctant consent. They had both forgotten what they were inflicting on
+      the soldiers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood and faced them, smiling, and the carbines shook in their hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am quite ready,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lieutenant stepped forward, trembling a little with excitement. He had
+      never given the word of command for an execution before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ready&mdash;present&mdash;fire!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly staggered a little and recovered his balance. One unsteady shot
+      had grazed his cheek, and a little blood fell on to the white cravat.
+      Another ball had struck him above the knee. When the smoke cleared away
+      the soldiers looked and saw him smiling still and wiping the blood from
+      his cheek with the mutilated hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A bad shot, men!&rdquo; he said; and his voice cut in, clear and articulate,
+      upon the dazed stupor of the wretched soldiers. &ldquo;Have another try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A general groan and shudder passed through the row of carabineers. Each
+      man had aimed aside, with a secret hope that the death-shot would come
+      from his neighbour's hand, not his; and there the Gadfly stood and smiled
+      at them; they had only turned the execution into a butchery, and the whole
+      ghastly business was to do again. They were seized with sudden terror,
+      and, lowering their carbines, listened hopelessly to the furious curses
+      and reproaches of the officers, staring in dull horror at the man whom
+      they had killed and who somehow was not dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor shook his fist in their faces, savagely shouting to them to
+      stand in position, to present arms, to make haste and get the thing over.
+      He had become as thoroughly demoralized as they were, and dared not look
+      at the terrible figure that stood, and stood, and would not fall. When the
+      Gadfly spoke to him he started and shuddered at the sound of the mocking
+      voice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have brought out the awkward squad this morning, colonel! Let me see
+      if I can manage them better. Now, men! Hold your tool higher there, you to
+      the left. Bless your heart, man, it's a carbine you've got in your hand,
+      not a frying-pan! Are you all straight? Now then! Ready&mdash;present&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fire!&rdquo; the colonel interrupted, starting forward. It was intolerable that
+      this man should give the command for his own death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was another confused, disorganized volley, and the line broke up
+      into a knot of shivering figures, staring before them with wild eyes. One
+      of the soldiers had not even discharged his carbine; he had flung it away,
+      and crouched down, moaning under his breath: &ldquo;I can't&mdash;I can't!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The smoke cleared slowly away, floating up into the glimmer of the early
+      sunlight; and they saw that the Gadfly had fallen; and saw, too, that he
+      was still not dead. For the first moment soldiers and officials stood as
+      if they had been turned to stone, and watched the ghastly thing that
+      writhed and struggled on the ground; then both doctor and colonel rushed
+      forward with a cry, for he had dragged himself up on one knee and was
+      still facing the soldiers, and still laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another miss! Try&mdash;again, lads&mdash;see&mdash;if you can't&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He suddenly swayed and fell over sideways on the grass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is he dead?&rdquo; the colonel asked under his breath; and the doctor, kneeling
+      down, with a hand on the bloody shirt, answered softly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so&mdash;God be praised!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God be praised!&rdquo; the colonel repeated. &ldquo;At last!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His nephew was touching him on the arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Uncle! It's the Cardinal! He's at the gate and wants to come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What? He can't come in&mdash;I won't have it! What are the guards about?
+      Your Eminence&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gate had opened and shut, and Montanelli was standing in the
+      courtyard, looking before him with still and awful eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence! I must beg of you&mdash;this is not a fit sight for you!
+      The execution is only just over; the body is not yet&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have come to look at him,&rdquo; Montanelli said. Even at the moment it
+      struck the Governor that his voice and bearing were those of a
+      sleep-walker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, my God!&rdquo; one of the soldiers cried out suddenly; and the Governor
+      glanced hastily back. Surely&mdash;&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The blood-stained heap on the grass had once more begun to struggle and
+      moan. The doctor flung himself down and lifted the head upon his knee.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Make haste!&rdquo; he cried in desperation. &ldquo;You savages, make haste! Get it
+      over, for God's sake! There's no bearing this!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Great jets of blood poured over his hands, and the convulsions of the
+      figure that he held in his arms shook him, too, from head to foot. As he
+      looked frantically round for help, the priest bent over his shoulder and
+      put a crucifix to the lips of the dying man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the name of the Father and of the Son&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Gadfly raised himself against the doctor's knee, and, with wide-open
+      eyes, looked straight upon the crucifix.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Slowly, amid hushed and frozen stillness, he lifted the broken right hand
+      and pushed away the image. There was a red smear across its face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Padre&mdash;is your&mdash;God&mdash;satisfied?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His head fell back on the doctor's arm.
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As the Cardinal did not awake from his stupor, Colonel Ferrari repeated,
+      louder:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli looked up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite dead, your Eminence. Will you not come away? This is a horrible
+      sight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is dead,&rdquo; Montanelli repeated, and looked down again at the face. &ldquo;I
+      touched him; and he is dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does he expect a man to be with half a dozen bullets in him?&rdquo; the
+      lieutenant whispered contemptuously; and the doctor whispered back. &ldquo;I
+      think the sight of the blood has upset him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Governor put his hand firmly on Montanelli's arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence&mdash;you had better not look at him any longer. Will you
+      allow the chaplain to escort you home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes&mdash;I will go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He turned slowly from the blood-stained spot and walked away, the priest
+      and sergeant following. At the gate he paused and looked back, with a
+      ghostlike, still surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      A few hours later Marcone went up to a cottage on the hillside to tell
+      Martini that there was no longer any need for him to throw away his life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the preparations for a second attempt at rescue were ready, as the
+      plot was much more simple than the former one. It had been arranged that
+      on the following morning, as the Corpus Domini procession passed along the
+      fortress hill, Martini should step forward out of the crowd, draw a pistol
+      from his breast, and fire in the Governor's face. In the moment of wild
+      confusion which would follow twenty armed men were to make a sudden rush
+      at the gate, break into the tower, and, taking the turnkey with them by
+      force, to enter the prisoner's cell and carry him bodily away, killing or
+      overpowering everyone who interfered with them. From the gate they were to
+      retire fighting, and cover the retreat of a second band of armed and
+      mounted smugglers, who would carry him off into a safe hiding-place in the
+      hills. The only person in the little group who knew nothing of the plan
+      was Gemma; it had been kept from her at Martini's special desire. &ldquo;She
+      will break her heart over it soon enough,&rdquo; he had said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As the smuggler came in at the garden gate Martini opened the glass door
+      and stepped out on to the verandah to meet him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any news, Marcone? Ah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The smuggler had pushed back his broad-brimmed straw hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They sat down together on the verandah. Not a word was spoken on either
+      side. From the instant when Martini had caught sight of the face under the
+      hat-brim he had understood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When was it?&rdquo; he asked after a long pause; and his own voice, in his
+      ears, was as dull and wearisome as everything else.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This morning, at sunrise. The sergeant told me. He was there and saw it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Martini looked down and flicked a stray thread from his coat-sleeve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Vanity of vanities; this also is vanity. He was to have died to-morrow.
+      And now the land of his heart's desire had vanished, like the fairyland of
+      golden sunset dreams that fades away when the darkness comes; and he was
+      driven back into the world of every day and every night&mdash;the world of
+      Grassini and Galli, of ciphering and pamphleteering, of party squabbles
+      between comrades and dreary intrigues among Austrian spies&mdash;of the
+      old revolutionary mill-round that maketh the heart sick. And somewhere
+      down at the bottom of his consciousness there was a great empty place; a
+      place that nothing and no one would fill any more, now that the Gadfly was
+      dead.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Someone was asking him a question, and he raised his head, wondering what
+      could be left that was worth the trouble of talking about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was saying that of course you will break the news to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Life, and all the horror of life, came back into Martini's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can I tell her?&rdquo; he cried out. &ldquo;You might as well ask me to go and
+      stab her. Oh, how can I tell her&mdash;how can I!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had clasped both hands over his eyes; but, without seeing, he felt the
+      smuggler start beside him, and looked up. Gemma was standing in the
+      doorway.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have you heard, Cesare?&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;It is all over. They have shot him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;INTROIBO ad altare Dei.&rdquo; Montanelli stood before the high altar among his
+      ministers and acolytes and read the Introit aloud in steady tones. All the
+      Cathedral was a blaze of light and colour; from the holiday dresses of the
+      congregation to the pillars with their flaming draperies and wreaths of
+      flowers there was no dull spot in it. Over the open spaces of the doorway
+      fell great scarlet curtains, through whose folds the hot June sunlight
+      glowed, as through the petals of red poppies in a corn-field. The
+      religious orders with their candles and torches, the companies of the
+      parishes with their crosses and flags, lighted up the dim side-chapels;
+      and in the aisles the silken folds of the processional banners drooped,
+      their gilded staves and tassels glinting under the arches. The surplices
+      of the choristers gleamed, rainbow-tinted, beneath the coloured windows;
+      the sunlight lay on the chancel floor in chequered stains of orange and
+      purple and green. Behind the altar hung a shimmering veil of silver
+      tissue; and against the veil and the decorations and the altar-lights the
+      Cardinal's figure stood out in its trailing white robes like a marble
+      statue that had come to life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As was customary on processional days, he was only to preside at the Mass,
+      not to celebrate, so at the end of the Indulgentiam he turned from the
+      altar and walked slowly to the episcopal throne, celebrant and ministers
+      bowing low as he passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid His Eminence is not well,&rdquo; one of the canons whispered to his
+      neighbour; &ldquo;he seems so strange.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli bent his head to receive the jewelled mitre. The priest who was
+      acting as deacon of honour put it on, looked at him for an instant, then
+      leaned forward and whispered softly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence, are you ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli turned slightly towards him. There was no recognition in his
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon, Your Eminence!&rdquo; the priest whispered, as he made a genuflexion
+      and went back to his place, reproaching himself for having interrupted the
+      Cardinal's devotions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The familiar ceremony went on; and Montanelli sat erect and still, his
+      glittering mitre and gold-brocaded vestments flashing back the sunlight,
+      and the heavy folds of his white festival mantle sweeping down over the
+      red carpet. The light of a hundred candles sparkled among the sapphires on
+      his breast, and shone into the deep, still eyes that had no answering
+      gleam; and when, at the words: &ldquo;Benedicite, pater eminentissime,&rdquo; he
+      stooped to bless the incense, and the sunbeams played among the diamonds,
+      he might have recalled some splendid and fearful ice-spirit of the
+      mountains, crowned with rainbows and robed in drifted snow, scattering,
+      with extended hands, a shower of blessings or of curses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the elevation of the Host he descended from his throne and knelt before
+      the altar. There was a strange, still evenness about all his movements;
+      and as he rose and went back to his place the major of dragoons, who was
+      sitting in gala uniform behind the Governor, whispered to the wounded
+      captain: &ldquo;The old Cardinal's breaking, not a doubt of it. He goes through
+      his work like a machine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much the better!&rdquo; the captain whispered back. &ldquo;He's been nothing but a
+      mill-stone round all our necks ever since that confounded amnesty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He did give in, though, about the court-martial.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, at last; but he was a precious time making up his mind to. Heavens,
+      how close it is! We shall all get sun-stroke in the procession. It's a
+      pity we're not Cardinals, to have a canopy held over our heads all the way&mdash;&mdash;
+      Sh-sh-sh! There's my uncle looking at us!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Colonel Ferrari had turned round to glance severely at the two younger
+      officers. After the solemn event of yesterday morning he was in a devout
+      and serious frame of mind, and inclined to reproach them with a want of
+      proper feeling about what he regarded as &ldquo;a painful necessity of state.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The masters of the ceremonies began to assemble and place in order those
+      who were to take part in the procession. Colonel Ferrari rose from his
+      place and moved up to the chancel-rail, beckoning to the other officers to
+      accompany him. When the Mass was finished, and the Host had been placed
+      behind the crystal shield in the processional sun, the celebrant and his
+      ministers retired to the sacristy to change their vestments, and a little
+      buzz of whispered conversation broke out through the church. Montanelli
+      remained seated on his throne, looking straight before him, immovably. All
+      the sea of human life and motion seemed to surge around and below him, and
+      to die away into stillness about his feet. A censer was brought to him;
+      and he raised his hand with the action of an automaton, and put the
+      incense into the vessel, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The clergy had come back from the sacristy, and were waiting in the
+      chancel for him to descend; but he remained utterly motionless. The deacon
+      of honour, bending forward to take off the mitre, whispered again,
+      hesitatingly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Eminence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Cardinal looked round.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you quite sure the procession will not be too much for you? The sun
+      is very hot.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What does the sun matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli spoke in a cold, measured voice, and the priest again fancied
+      that he must have given offence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, Your Eminence. I thought you seemed unwell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli rose without answering. He paused a moment on the upper step of
+      the throne, and asked in the same measured way:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The long train of his mantle swept down over the steps and lay spread out
+      on the chancel-floor, and he was pointing to a fiery stain on the white
+      satin.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's only the sunlight shining through a coloured window, Your Eminence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The sunlight? Is it so red?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He descended the steps, and knelt before the altar, swinging the censer
+      slowly to and fro. As he handed it back, the chequered sunlight fell on
+      his bared head and wide, uplifted eyes, and cast a crimson glow across the
+      white veil that his ministers were folding round him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took from the deacon the sacred golden sun; and stood up, as choir and
+      organ burst into a peal of triumphal melody.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Pange, lingua, g]oriosi
+        Corporis mysterium,
+        Sanguinisque pretiosi
+        Quem in mundi pretium,
+        Fructus ventris generosi
+        Rex effudit gentium.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      The bearers came slowly forward, and raised the silken canopy over his
+      head, while the deacons of honour stepped to their places at his right and
+      left and drew back the long folds of the mantle. As the acolytes stooped
+      to lift his robe from the chancel-floor, the lay fraternities heading the
+      procession started to pace down the nave in stately double file, with
+      lighted candles held to left and right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stood above them, by the altar, motionless under the white canopy,
+      holding the Eucharist aloft with steady hands, and watched them as they
+      passed. Two by two, with candles and banners and torches, with crosses and
+      images and flags, they swept slowly down the chancel steps, along the
+      broad nave between the garlanded pillars, and out under the lifted scarlet
+      curtains into the blazing sunlight of the street; and the sound of their
+      chanting died into a rolling murmur, drowned in the pealing of new and
+      newer voices, as the unending stream flowed on, and yet new footsteps
+      echoed down the nave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The companies of the parishes passed, with their white shrouds and veiled
+      faces; then the brothers of the Misericordia, black from head to foot,
+      their eyes faintly gleaming through the holes in their masks. Next came
+      the monks in solemn row: the mendicant friars, with their dusky cowls and
+      bare, brown feet; the white-robed, grave Dominicans. Then followed the lay
+      officials of the district; dragoons and carabineers and the local
+      police-officials; the Governor in gala uniform, with his brother officers
+      beside him. A deacon followed, holding up a great cross between two
+      acolytes with gleaming candles; and as the curtains were lifted high to
+      let them pass out at the doorway, Montanelli caught a momentary glimpse,
+      from where he stood under the canopy, of the sunlit blaze of carpeted
+      street and flag-hung walls and white-robed children scattering roses. Ah,
+      the roses; how red they were!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On and on the procession paced in order; form succeeding to form and
+      colour to colour. Long white surplices, grave and seemly, gave place to
+      gorgeous vestments and embroidered pluvials. Now passed a tall and slender
+      golden cross, borne high above the lighted candles; now the cathedral
+      canons, stately in their dead white mantles. A chaplain paced down the
+      chancel, with the crozier between two flaring torches; then the acolytes
+      moved forward in step, their censers swinging to the rhythm of the music;
+      the bearers raised the canopy higher, counting their steps: &ldquo;One, two;
+      one, two!&rdquo; and Montanelli started upon the Way of the Cross.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Down the chancel steps and all along the nave he passed; under the gallery
+      where the organ pealed and thundered; under the lifted curtains that were
+      so red&mdash;so fearfully red; and out into the glaring street, where the
+      blood-red roses lay and withered, crushed into the red carpet by the
+      passing of many feet. A moment's pause at the door, while the lay
+      officials came forward to replace the canopy-bearers; then the procession
+      moved on again, and he with it, his hands clasping the Eucharistic sun,
+      and the voices of the choristers swelling and dying around him, with the
+      rhythmical swaying of censers and the rolling tramp of feet.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Verbum caro, panem verum,
+        Verbo carnem efficit;
+        Sitque sanguis Christi merum&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Always blood and always blood! The carpet stretched before him like a red
+      river; the roses lay like blood splashed on the stones&mdash;&mdash; Oh,
+      God! Is all Thine earth grown red, and all Thy heaven? Ah, what is it to
+      Thee, Thou mighty God&mdash;&mdash;Thou, whose very lips are smeared with
+      blood!
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Tantum ergo Sacramentum,
+        Veneremur cernui.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      He looked through the crystal shield at the Eucharist. What was that
+      oozing from the wafer&mdash;dripping down between the points of the golden
+      sun&mdash;down on to his white robe? What had he seen dripping down&mdash;dripping
+      from a lifted hand?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The grass in the courtyard was trampled and red,&mdash;all red,&mdash;there
+      was so much blood. It was trickling down the cheek, and dripping from the
+      pierced right hand, and gushing in a hot red torrent from the wounded
+      side. Even a lock of the hair was dabbled in it,&mdash;the hair that lay
+      all wet and matted on the forehead&mdash;ah, that was the death-sweat; it
+      came from the horrible pain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The voices of the choristers rose higher, triumphantly:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Genitori, genitoque,
+        Laus et jubilatio,
+        Salus, honor, virtus quoque,
+        Sit et benedictio.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Oh, that is more than any patience can endure! God, Who sittest on the
+      brazen heavens enthroned, and smilest with bloody lips, looking down upon
+      agony and death, is it not enough? Is it not enough, without this mockery
+      of praise and blessing? Body of Christ, Thou that wast broken for the
+      salvation of men; blood of Christ, Thou that wast shed for the remission
+      of sins; is it not enough?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, call Him louder; perchance He sleepeth!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dost Thou sleep indeed, dear love; and wilt Thou never wake again? Is the
+      grave so jealous of its victory; and will the black pit under the tree not
+      loose Thee even for a little, heart's delight?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the Thing behind the crystal shield made answer, and the blood
+      dripped down as It spoke:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hast thou chosen, and wilt repent of thy choice? Is thy desire not
+      fulfilled? Look upon these men that walk in the light and are clad in silk
+      and in gold: for their sake was I laid in the black pit. Look upon the
+      children scattering roses, and hearken to their singing if it be sweet:
+      for their sake is my mouth filled with dust, and the roses are red from
+      the well-springs of my heart. See where the people kneel to drink the
+      blood that drips from thy garment-hem: for their sake was it shed, to
+      quench their ravening thirst. For it is written: 'Greater love hath no man
+      than this, if a man lay down his life for his friends.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Arthur, Arthur; there is greater love than this! If a man lay down
+      the life of his best beloved, is not that greater?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And It answered again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is thy best beloved? In sooth, not I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And when he would have spoken the words froze on his tongue, for the
+      singing of the choristers passed over them, as the north wind over icy
+      pools, and hushed them into silence:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;Dedit fragilibus corporis ferculum,
+      Dedit et tristibus sanguinis poculum,
+      Dicens: Accipite, quod trado vasculum
+              Omnes ex eo bibite.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Drink of it, Christians; drink of it, all of you! Is it not yours? For you
+      the red stream stains the grass; for you the living flesh is seared and
+      torn. Eat of it, cannibals; eat of it, all of you! This is your feast and
+      your orgy; this is the day of your joy! Haste you and come to the
+      festival; join the procession and march with us; women and children, young
+      men and old men&mdash;come to the sharing of flesh! Come to the pouring of
+      blood-wine and drink of it while it is red; take and eat of the Body&mdash;&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah, God; the fortress! Sullen and brown, with crumbling battlements and
+      towers dark among the barren hills, it scowled on the procession sweeping
+      past in the dusty road below. The iron teeth of the portcullis were drawn
+      down over the mouth of the gate; and as a beast crouched on the
+      mountain-side, the fortress guarded its prey. Yet, be the teeth clenched
+      never so fast, they shall be broken and riven asunder; and the grave in
+      the courtyard within shall yield up her dead. For the Christian hosts are
+      marching, marching in mighty procession to their sacramental feast of
+      blood, as marches an army of famished rats to the gleaning; and their cry
+      is: &ldquo;Give! Give!&rdquo; and they say not: &ldquo;It is enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wilt thou not be satisfied? For these men was I sacrificed; thou hast
+      destroyed me that they might live; and behold, they march everyone on his
+      ways, and they shall not break their ranks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the army of Christians, the followers of thy God; a great people
+      and a strong. A fire devoureth before them, and behind them a flame
+      burneth; the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a
+      desolate wilderness; yea, and nothing shall escape them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yet come back, come back to me, beloved; for I repent me of my
+      choice! Come back, and we will creep away together, to some dark and
+      silent grave where the devouring army shall not find us; and we will lay
+      us down there, locked in one another's arms, and sleep, and sleep, and
+      sleep. And the hungry Christians shall pass by in the merciless daylight
+      above our heads; and when they howl for blood to drink and for flesh to
+      eat, their cry shall be faint in our ears; and they shall pass on their
+      ways and leave us to our rest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And It answered yet again:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where shall I hide me? Is it not written: 'They shall run to and fro in
+      the city; they shall run upon the wall; they shall climb up upon the
+      houses; they shall enter in at the windows like a thief?' If I build me a
+      tomb on the mountain-top, shall they not break it open? If I dig me a
+      grave in the river-bed, shall they not tear it up? Verily, they are keen
+      as blood-hounds to seek out their prey; and for them are my wounds red,
+      that they may drink. Canst thou not hear them, what they sing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And they sang, as they went in between the scarlet curtains of the
+      Cathedral door; for the procession was over, and all the roses were
+      strewn:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Ave, verum Corpus, natum
+        De Maria Virgine:
+        Vere passum, immolatum
+        In cruce pro homine!
+        Cujus latus perforatum
+        Undam fluxit cum sanguinae;
+        Esto nobis praegustatum
+        Mortis in examinae.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      And when they had left off singing, he entered at the doorway, and passed
+      between the silent rows of monks and priests, where they knelt, each man
+      in his place, with the lighted candles uplifted. And he saw their hungry
+      eyes fixed on the sacred Body that he bore; and he knew why they bowed
+      their heads as he passed. For the dark stream ran down the folds of his
+      white vestments; and on the stones of the Cathedral floor his footsteps
+      left a deep, red stain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So he passed up the nave to the chancel rails; and there the bearers
+      paused, and he went out from under the canopy and up to the altar steps.
+      To left and right the white-robed acolytes knelt with their censers and
+      the chaplains with their torches; and their eyes shone greedily in the
+      flaring light as they watched the Body of the Victim.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And as he stood before the altar, holding aloft with blood-stained hands
+      the torn and mangled body of his murdered love, the voices of the guests
+      bidden to the Eucharistic feast rang out in another peal of song:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Oh salutaris Hostia,
+        Quae coeli pandis ostium;
+        Bella praemunt hostilia,
+        Da robur, fer, auxilium!&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Ah, and now they come to take the Body&mdash;&mdash;Go then, dear heart,
+      to thy bitter doom, and open the gates of heaven for these ravening wolves
+      that will not be denied. The gates that are opened for me are the gates of
+      the nethermost hell.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And as the deacon of honour placed the sacred vessel on the altar,
+      Montanelli sank down where he had stood, and knelt upon the step; and from
+      the white altar above him the blood flowed down and dripped upon his head.
+      And the voices of the singers rang on, pealing under the arches and
+      echoing along the vaulted roof:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       &ldquo;Uni trinoque Domino
+        Sit sempiterna gloria:
+        Qui vitam sine termino
+        Nobis donet in patria.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sine termino&mdash;sine termino!&rdquo; Oh, happy Jesus, Who could sink beneath
+      His cross! Oh, happy Jesus, Who could say: &ldquo;It is finished!&rdquo; This doom is
+      never ended; it is eternal as the stars in their courses. This is the worm
+      that dieth not and the fire that is not quenched. &ldquo;Sine termino, sine
+      termino!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Wearily, patiently, he went through his part in the remaining ceremonies,
+      fulfilling mechanically, from old habit, the rites that had no longer any
+      meaning for him. Then, after the benediction, he knelt down again before
+      the altar and covered his face; and the voice of the priest reading aloud
+      the list of indulgences swelled and sank like a far-off murmur from a
+      world to which he belonged no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The voice broke off, and he stood up and stretched out his hand for
+      silence. Some of the congregation were moving towards the doors; and they
+      turned back with a hurried rustle and murmur, as a whisper went through
+      the Cathedral:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His Eminence is going to speak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His ministers, startled and wondering, drew closer to him and one of them
+      whispered hastily: &ldquo;Your Eminence, do you intend to speak to the people
+      now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli silently waved him aside. The priests drew back, whispering
+      together; the thing was unusual, even irregular; but it was within the
+      Cardinal's prerogative if he chose to do it. No doubt, he had some
+      statement of exceptional importance to make; some new reform from Rome to
+      announce or a special communication from the Holy Father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Montanelli looked down from the altar-steps upon the sea of upturned
+      faces. Full of eager expectancy they looked up at him as he stood above
+      them, spectral and still and white.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sh-sh! Silence!&rdquo; the leaders of the procession called softly; and the
+      murmuring of the congregation died into stillness, as a gust of wind dies
+      among whispering tree-tops. All the crowd gazed up, in breathless silence,
+      at the white figure on the altar-steps. Slowly and steadily he began to
+      speak:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is written in the Gospel according to St. John: 'God so loved the
+      world, that He gave His only begotten Son that the world through Him might
+      be saved.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the festival of the Body and Blood of the Victim who was slain
+      for your salvation; the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the
+      world; the Son of God, Who died for your transgressions. And you are
+      assembled here in solemn festival array, to eat of the sacrifice that was
+      given for you, and to render thanks for this great mercy. And I know that
+      this morning, when you came to share in the banquet, to eat of the Body of
+      the Victim, your hearts were filled with joy, as you remembered the
+      Passion of God the Son, Who died, that you might be saved.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me, which among you has thought of that other Passion&mdash;of
+      the Passion of God the Father, Who gave His Son to be crucified? Which of
+      you has remembered the agony of God the Father, when He bent from His
+      throne in the heavens above, and looked down upon Calvary?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have watched you to-day, my people, as you walked in your ranks in
+      solemn procession; and I have seen that your hearts are glad within you
+      for the remission of your sins, and that you rejoice in your salvation.
+      Yet I pray you that you consider at what price that salvation was bought.
+      Surely it is very precious, and the price of it is above rubies; it is the
+      price of blood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A faint, long shudder passed through the listening crowd. In the chancel
+      the priests bent forward and whispered to one another; but the preacher
+      went on speaking, and they held their peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Therefore it is that I speak with you this day: I AM THAT I AM. For I
+      looked upon your weakness and your sorrow, and upon the little children
+      about your feet; and my heart was moved to compassion for their sake, that
+      they must die. Then I looked into my dear son's eyes; and I knew that the
+      Atonement of Blood was there. And I went my way, and left him to his doom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is the remission of sins. He died for you, and the darkness has
+      swallowed him up; he is dead, and there is no resurrection; he is dead,
+      and I have no son. Oh, my boy, my boy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Cardinal's voice broke in a long, wailing cry; and the voices of the
+      terrified people answered it like an echo. All the clergy had risen from
+      their places, and the deacons of honour started forward to lay their hands
+      on the preacher's arm. But he wrenched it away, and faced them suddenly,
+      with the eyes of an angry wild beast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is this? Is there not blood enough? Wait your turn, jackals; you
+      shall all be fed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They shrank away and huddled shivering together, their panting breath
+      thick and loud, their faces white with the whiteness of chalk. Montanelli
+      turned again to the people, and they swayed and shook before him, as a
+      field of corn before a hurricane.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have killed him! You have killed him! And I suffered it, because I
+      would not let you die. And now, when you come about me with your lying
+      praises and your unclean prayers, I repent me&mdash;I repent me that I
+      have done this thing! It were better that you all should rot in your
+      vices, in the bottomless filth of damnation, and that he should live. What
+      is the worth of your plague-spotted souls, that such a price should be
+      paid for them? But it is too late&mdash;too late! I cry aloud, but he does
+      not hear me; I beat at the door of the grave, but he will not wake; I
+      stand alone, in desert space, and look around me, from the blood-stained
+      earth where the heart of my heart lies buried, to the void and awful
+      heaven that is left unto me, desolate. I have given him up; oh, generation
+      of vipers, I have given him up for you!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take your salvation, since it is yours! I fling it to you as a bone is
+      flung to a pack of snarling curs! The price of your banquet is paid for
+      you; come, then, and gorge yourselves, cannibals, bloodsuckers&mdash;carrion
+      beasts that feed on the dead! See where the blood streams down from the
+      altar, foaming and hot from my darling's heart&mdash;the blood that was
+      shed for you! Wallow and lap it and smear yourselves red with it! Snatch
+      and fight for the flesh and devour it&mdash;and trouble me no more! This
+      is the body that was given for you&mdash;look at it, torn and bleeding,
+      throbbing still with the tortured life, quivering from the bitter
+      death-agony; take it, Christians, and eat!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He had caught up the sun with the Host and lifted it above his head; and
+      now flung it crashing down upon the floor. At the ring of the metal on
+      stone the clergy rushed forward together, and twenty hands seized the
+      madman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, and only then, the silence of the people broke in a wild, hysterical
+      scream; and, overturning chairs and benches, beating at the doorways,
+      trampling one upon another, tearing down curtains and garlands in their
+      haste, the surging, sobbing human flood poured out upon the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_EPIL" id="link2H_EPIL">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      EPILOGUE.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;GEMMA, there's a man downstairs who wants to see you.&rdquo; Martini spoke in
+      the subdued tone which they had both unconsciously adopted during these
+      last ten days. That, and a certain slow evenness of speech and movement,
+      were the sole expression which either of them gave to their grief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Gemma, with bare arms and an apron over her dress, was standing at a
+      table, putting up little packages of cartridges for distribution. She had
+      stood over the work since early morning; and now, in the glaring
+      afternoon, her face looked haggard with fatigue.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man, Cesare? What does he want?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know, dear. He wouldn't tell me. He said he must speak to you
+      alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo; She took off her apron and pulled down the sleeves of her
+      dress. &ldquo;I must go to him, I suppose; but very likely it's only a spy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In any case, I shall be in the next room, within call. As soon as you get
+      rid of him you had better go and lie down a bit. You have been standing
+      too long to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! I would rather go on working.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She went slowly down the stairs, Martini following in silence. She had
+      grown to look ten years older in these few days, and the gray streak
+      across her hair had widened into a broad band. She mostly kept her eyes
+      lowered now; but when, by chance, she raised them, he shivered at the
+      horror in their shadows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the little parlour she found a clumsy-looking man standing with his
+      heels together in the middle of the floor. His whole figure and the
+      half-frightened way he looked up when she came in, suggested to her that
+      he must be one of the Swiss guards. He wore a countryman's blouse, which
+      evidently did not belong to him, and kept glancing round as though afraid
+      of detection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you speak German?&rdquo; he asked in the heavy Zurich patois.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A little. I hear you want to see me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are Signora Bolla? I've brought you a letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A&mdash;letter?&rdquo; She was beginning to tremble, and rested one hand on the
+      table to steady herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm one of the guard over there.&rdquo; He pointed out of the window to the
+      fortress on the hill. &ldquo;It's from&mdash;the man that was shot last week. He
+      wrote it the night before. I promised him I'd give it into your own hand
+      myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She bent her head down. So he had written after all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's why I've been so long bringing it,&rdquo; the soldier went on. &ldquo;He said
+      I was not to give it to anyone but you, and I couldn't get off before&mdash;they
+      watched me so. I had to borrow these things to come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was fumbling in the breast of his blouse. The weather was hot, and the
+      sheet of folded paper that he pulled out was not only dirty and crumpled,
+      but damp. He stood for a moment shuffling his feet uneasily; then put up
+      one hand and scratched the back of his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't say anything,&rdquo; he began again timidly, with a distrustful
+      glance at her. &ldquo;It's as much as my life's worth to have come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I shall not say anything. No, wait a minute&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As he turned to go, she stopped him, feeling for her purse; but he drew
+      back, offended.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want your money,&rdquo; he said roughly. &ldquo;I did it for him&mdash;because
+      he asked me to. I'd have done more than that for him. He'd been good to me&mdash;God
+      help me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The little catch in his voice made her look up. He was slowly rubbing a
+      grimy sleeve across his eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had to shoot,&rdquo; he went on under his breath; &ldquo;my mates and I. A man
+      must obey orders. We bungled it, and had to fire again&mdash;and he
+      laughed at us&mdash;he called us the awkward squad&mdash;and he'd been
+      good to me&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was silence in the room. A moment later he straightened himself up,
+      made a clumsy military salute, and went away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood still for a little while with the paper in her hand; then sat
+      down by the open window to read. The letter was closely written in pencil,
+      and in some parts hardly legible. But the first two words stood out quite
+      clear upon the page; and they were in English:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear Jim.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The writing grew suddenly blurred and misty. And she had lost him again&mdash;had
+      lost him again! At the sight of the familiar childish nickname all the
+      hopelessness of her bereavement came over her afresh, and she put out her
+      hands in blind desperation, as though the weight of the earth-clods that
+      lay above him were pressing on her heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently she took up the paper again and went on reading:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am to be shot at sunrise to-morrow. So if I am to keep at all my
+      promise to tell you everything, I must keep it now. But, after all, there
+      is not much need of explanations between you and me. We always understood
+      each other without many words, even when we were little things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And so, you see, my dear, you had no need to break your heart over that
+      old story of the blow. It was a hard hit, of course; but I have had plenty
+      of others as hard, and yet I have managed to get over them,&mdash;even to
+      pay back a few of them,&mdash;and here I am still, like the mackerel in
+      our nursery-book (I forget its name), 'Alive and kicking, oh!' This is my
+      last kick, though; and then, to-morrow morning, and&mdash;'Finita la
+      Commedia!' You and I will translate that: 'The variety show is over'; and
+      will give thanks to the gods that they have had, at least, so much mercy
+      on us. It is not much, but it is something; and for this and all other
+      blessings may we be truly thankful!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About that same to-morrow morning, I want both you and Martini to
+      understand clearly that I am quite happy and satisfied, and could ask no
+      better thing of Fate. Tell that to Martini as a message from me; he is a
+      good fellow and a good comrade, and he will understand. You see, dear, I
+      know that the stick-in-the-mud people are doing us a good turn and
+      themselves a bad one by going back to secret trials and executions so
+      soon, and I know that if you who are left stand together steadily and hit
+      hard, you will see great things. As for me, I shall go out into the
+      courtyard with as light a heart as any child starting home for the
+      holidays. I have done my share of the work, and this death-sentence is the
+      proof that I have done it thoroughly. They kill me because they are afraid
+      of me; and what more can any man's heart desire?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It desires just one thing more, though. A man who is going to die has a
+      right to a personal fancy, and mine is that you should see why I have
+      always been such a sulky brute to you, and so slow to forget old scores.
+      Of course, though, you understand why, and I tell you only for the
+      pleasure of writing the words. I loved you, Gemma, when you were an ugly
+      little girl in a gingham frock, with a scratchy tucker and your hair in a
+      pig-tail down your back; and I love you still. Do you remember that day
+      when I kissed your hand, and when you so piteously begged me 'never to do
+      that again'? It was a scoundrelly trick to play, I know; but you must
+      forgive that; and now I kiss the paper where I have written your name. So
+      I have kissed you twice, and both times without your consent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is all. Good-bye, my dear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no signature, but a verse which they had learned together as
+      children was written under the letter:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                &ldquo;Then am I
+                 A happy fly,
+                 If I live
+                 Or if I die.&rdquo;
+
+</pre>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      Half an hour later Martini entered the room, and, startled out of the
+      silence of half a life-time, threw down the placard he was carrying and
+      flung his arms about her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gemma! What is it, for God's sake? Don't sob like that&mdash;you that
+      never cry! Gemma! Gemma, my darling!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, Cesare; I will tell you afterwards&mdash;I&mdash;can't talk
+      about it just now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She hurriedly slipped the tear-stained letter into her pocket; and,
+      rising, leaned out of the window to hide her face. Martini held his tongue
+      and bit his moustache. After all these years he had betrayed himself like
+      a schoolboy&mdash;and she had not even noticed it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Cathedral bell is tolling,&rdquo; she said after a little while, looking
+      round with recovered self-command. &ldquo;Someone must be dead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what I came to show you,&rdquo; Martini answered in his everyday voice.
+      He picked up the placard from the floor and handed it to her. Hastily
+      printed in large type was a black-bordered announcement that: &ldquo;Our dearly
+      beloved Bishop, His Eminence the Cardinal, Monsignor Lorenzo Montanelli,&rdquo;
+       had died suddenly at Ravenna, &ldquo;from the rupture of an aneurism of the
+      heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She glanced up quickly from the paper, and Martini answered the unspoken
+      suggestion in her eyes with a shrug of his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would you have, Madonna? Aneurism is as good a word as any other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gadfly, by E. L. Voynich
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GADFLY ***
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gadfly, by E. L. Voynich
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Gadfly
+
+Author: E. L. Voynich
+
+Posting Date: February 1, 2009 [EBook #3431]
+Release Date: September, 2002
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GADFLY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Judy Boss
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GADFLY
+
+By E. L. Voynich
+
+
+"What have we to do with Thee, Thou Jesus of Nazareth?"
+
+
+
+AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
+
+
+     MY most cordial thanks are due to the many
+     persons who helped me to collect, in Italy, the
+     materials for this story. I am especially indebted
+     to the officials of the Marucelliana Library of
+     Florence, and of the State Archives and Civic
+     Museum of Bologna, for their courtesy and
+     kindness.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GADFLY
+
+
+
+
+PART I.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Arthur sat in the library of the theological seminary at Pisa, looking
+through a pile of manuscript sermons. It was a hot evening in June, and
+the windows stood wide open, with the shutters half closed for coolness.
+The Father Director, Canon Montanelli, paused a moment in his writing to
+glance lovingly at the black head bent over the papers.
+
+"Can't you find it, carino? Never mind; I must rewrite the passage.
+Possibly it has got torn up, and I have kept you all this time for
+nothing."
+
+Montanelli's voice was rather low, but full and resonant, with a silvery
+purity of tone that gave to his speech a peculiar charm. It was the
+voice of a born orator, rich in possible modulations. When he spoke to
+Arthur its note was always that of a caress.
+
+"No, Padre, I must find it; I'm sure you put it here. You will never
+make it the same by rewriting."
+
+Montanelli went on with his work. A sleepy cockchafer hummed drowsily
+outside the window, and the long, melancholy call of a fruitseller
+echoed down the street: "Fragola! fragola!"
+
+"'On the Healing of the Leper'; here it is." Arthur came across the room
+with the velvet tread that always exasperated the good folk at home.
+He was a slender little creature, more like an Italian in a
+sixteenth-century portrait than a middle-class English lad of the
+thirties. From the long eyebrows and sensitive mouth to the small hands
+and feet, everything about him was too much chiseled, overdelicate.
+Sitting still, he might have been taken for a very pretty girl
+masquerading in male attire; but when he moved, his lithe agility
+suggested a tame panther without the claws.
+
+"Is that really it? What should I do without you, Arthur? I should
+always be losing my things. No, I am not going to write any more now.
+Come out into the garden, and I will help you with your work. What is
+the bit you couldn't understand?"
+
+They went out into the still, shadowy cloister garden. The seminary
+occupied the buildings of an old Dominican monastery, and two hundred
+years ago the square courtyard had been stiff and trim, and the rosemary
+and lavender had grown in close-cut bushes between the straight box
+edgings. Now the white-robed monks who had tended them were laid away
+and forgotten; but the scented herbs flowered still in the gracious
+mid-summer evening, though no man gathered their blossoms for simples
+any more. Tufts of wild parsley and columbine filled the cracks between
+the flagged footways, and the well in the middle of the courtyard was
+given up to ferns and matted stone-crop. The roses had run wild, and
+their straggling suckers trailed across the paths; in the box borders
+flared great red poppies; tall foxgloves drooped above the tangled
+grasses; and the old vine, untrained and barren of fruit, swayed from
+the branches of the neglected medlar-tree, shaking a leafy head with
+slow and sad persistence.
+
+In one corner stood a huge summer-flowering magnolia, a tower of dark
+foliage, splashed here and there with milk-white blossoms. A rough
+wooden bench had been placed against the trunk; and on this Montanelli
+sat down. Arthur was studying philosophy at the university; and,
+coming to a difficulty with a book, had applied to "the Padre" for an
+explanation of the point. Montanelli was a universal encyclopaedia to
+him, though he had never been a pupil of the seminary.
+
+"I had better go now," he said when the passage had been cleared up;
+"unless you want me for anything."
+
+"I don't want to work any more, but I should like you to stay a bit if
+you have time."
+
+"Oh, yes!" He leaned back against the tree-trunk and looked up through
+the dusky branches at the first faint stars glimmering in a quiet
+sky. The dreamy, mystical eyes, deep blue under black lashes, were an
+inheritance from his Cornish mother, and Montanelli turned his head
+away, that he might not see them.
+
+"You are looking tired, carino," he said.
+
+"I can't help it." There was a weary sound in Arthur's voice, and the
+Padre noticed it at once.
+
+"You should not have gone up to college so soon; you were tired out with
+sick-nursing and being up at night. I ought to have insisted on your
+taking a thorough rest before you left Leghorn."
+
+"Oh, Padre, what's the use of that? I couldn't stop in that miserable
+house after mother died. Julia would have driven me mad!"
+
+Julia was his eldest step-brother's wife, and a thorn in his side.
+
+"I should not have wished you to stay with your relatives," Montanelli
+answered gently. "I am sure it would have been the worst possible thing
+for you. But I wish you could have accepted the invitation of your
+English doctor friend; if you had spent a month in his house you would
+have been more fit to study."
+
+"No, Padre, I shouldn't indeed! The Warrens are very good and kind, but
+they don't understand; and then they are sorry for me,--I can see it
+in all their faces,--and they would try to console me, and talk about
+mother. Gemma wouldn't, of course; she always knew what not to say, even
+when we were babies; but the others would. And it isn't only that----"
+
+"What is it then, my son?"
+
+Arthur pulled off some blossoms from a drooping foxglove stem and
+crushed them nervously in his hand.
+
+"I can't bear the town," he began after a moment's pause. "There are the
+shops where she used to buy me toys when I was a little thing, and the
+walk along the shore where I used to take her until she got too ill.
+Wherever I go it's the same thing; every market-girl comes up to me
+with bunches of flowers--as if I wanted them now! And there's the
+church-yard--I had to get away; it made me sick to see the place----"
+
+He broke off and sat tearing the foxglove bells to pieces. The silence
+was so long and deep that he looked up, wondering why the Padre did
+not speak. It was growing dark under the branches of the magnolia, and
+everything seemed dim and indistinct; but there was light enough to show
+the ghastly paleness of Montanelli's face. He was bending his head
+down, his right hand tightly clenched upon the edge of the bench. Arthur
+looked away with a sense of awe-struck wonder. It was as though he had
+stepped unwittingly on to holy ground.
+
+"My God!" he thought; "how small and selfish I am beside him! If my
+trouble were his own he couldn't feel it more."
+
+Presently Montanelli raised his head and looked round. "I won't press
+you to go back there; at all events, just now," he said in his most
+caressing tone; "but you must promise me to take a thorough rest when
+your vacation begins this summer. I think you had better get a holiday
+right away from the neighborhood of Leghorn. I can't have you breaking
+down in health."
+
+"Where shall you go when the seminary closes, Padre?"
+
+"I shall have to take the pupils into the hills, as usual, and see them
+settled there. But by the middle of August the subdirector will be
+back from his holiday. I shall try to get up into the Alps for a little
+change. Will you come with me? I could take you for some long mountain
+rambles, and you would like to study the Alpine mosses and lichens. But
+perhaps it would be rather dull for you alone with me?"
+
+"Padre!" Arthur clasped his hands in what Julia called his
+"demonstrative foreign way." "I would give anything on earth to go away
+with you. Only--I am not sure----" He stopped.
+
+"You don't think Mr. Burton would allow it?"
+
+"He wouldn't like it, of course, but he could hardly interfere. I
+am eighteen now and can do what I choose. After all, he's only my
+step-brother; I don't see that I owe him obedience. He was always unkind
+to mother."
+
+"But if he seriously objects, I think you had better not defy his
+wishes; you may find your position at home made much harder if----"
+
+"Not a bit harder!" Arthur broke in passionately. "They always did hate
+me and always will--it doesn't matter what I do. Besides, how can James
+seriously object to my going away with you--with my father confessor?"
+
+"He is a Protestant, remember. However, you had better write to him, and
+we will wait to hear what he thinks. But you must not be impatient, my
+son; it matters just as much what you do, whether people hate you or
+love you."
+
+The rebuke was so gently given that Arthur hardly coloured under it.
+"Yes, I know," he answered, sighing; "but it is so difficult----"
+
+"I was sorry you could not come to me on Tuesday evening," Montanelli
+said, abruptly introducing a new subject. "The Bishop of Arezzo was
+here, and I should have liked you to meet him."
+
+"I had promised one of the students to go to a meeting at his lodgings,
+and they would have been expecting me."
+
+"What sort of meeting?"
+
+Arthur seemed embarrassed by the question. "It--it was n-not a r-regular
+meeting," he said with a nervous little stammer. "A student had come
+from Genoa, and he made a speech to us--a-a sort of--lecture."
+
+"What did he lecture about?"
+
+Arthur hesitated. "You won't ask me his name, Padre, will you? Because I
+promised----"
+
+"I will ask you no questions at all, and if you have promised secrecy of
+course you must not tell me; but I think you can almost trust me by this
+time."
+
+"Padre, of course I can. He spoke about--us and our duty to the
+people--and to--our own selves; and about--what we might do to help----"
+
+"To help whom?"
+
+"The contadini--and----"
+
+"And?"
+
+"Italy."
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+"Tell me, Arthur," said Montanelli, turning to him and speaking very
+gravely, "how long have you been thinking about this?"
+
+"Since--last winter."
+
+"Before your mother's death? And did she know of it?"
+
+"N-no. I--I didn't care about it then."
+
+"And now you--care about it?"
+
+Arthur pulled another handful of bells off the foxglove.
+
+"It was this way, Padre," he began, with his eyes on the ground. "When I
+was preparing for the entrance examination last autumn, I got to know
+a good many of the students; you remember? Well, some of them began to
+talk to me about--all these things, and lent me books. But I didn't care
+much about it; I always wanted to get home quick to mother. You see, she
+was quite alone among them all in that dungeon of a house; and Julia's
+tongue was enough to kill her. Then, in the winter, when she got so ill,
+I forgot all about the students and their books; and then, you know, I
+left off coming to Pisa altogether. I should have talked to mother if
+I had thought of it; but it went right out of my head. Then I found out
+that she was going to die----You know, I was almost constantly with her
+towards the end; often I would sit up the night, and Gemma Warren would
+come in the day to let me get to sleep. Well, it was in those long
+nights; I got thinking about the books and about what the students had
+said--and wondering--whether they were right and--what--Our Lord would
+have said about it all."
+
+"Did you ask Him?" Montanelli's voice was not quite steady.
+
+"Often, Padre. Sometimes I have prayed to Him to tell me what I must do,
+or to let me die with mother. But I couldn't find any answer."
+
+"And you never said a word to me. Arthur, I hoped you could have trusted
+me."
+
+"Padre, you know I trust you! But there are some things you can't talk
+about to anyone. I--it seemed to me that no one could help me--not even
+you or mother; I must have my own answer straight from God. You see, it
+is for all my life and all my soul."
+
+Montanelli turned away and stared into the dusky gloom of the magnolia
+branches. The twilight was so dim that his figure had a shadowy look,
+like a dark ghost among the darker boughs.
+
+"And then?" he asked slowly.
+
+"And then--she died. You know, I had been up the last three nights with
+her----"
+
+He broke off and paused a moment, but Montanelli did not move.
+
+"All those two days before they buried her," Arthur went on in a lower
+voice, "I couldn't think about anything. Then, after the funeral, I was
+ill; you remember, I couldn't come to confession."
+
+"Yes; I remember."
+
+"Well, in the night I got up and went into mother's room. It was all
+empty; there was only the great crucifix in the alcove. And I thought
+perhaps God would help me. I knelt down and waited--all night. And in
+the morning when I came to my senses--Padre, it isn't any use; I can't
+explain. I can't tell you what I saw--I hardly know myself. But I know
+that God has answered me, and that I dare not disobey Him."
+
+For a moment they sat quite silent in the darkness. Then Montanelli
+turned and laid his hand on Arthur's shoulder.
+
+"My son," he said, "God forbid that I should say He has not spoken to
+your soul. But remember your condition when this thing happened, and do
+not take the fancies of grief or illness for His solemn call. And if,
+indeed, it has been His will to answer you out of the shadow of death,
+be sure that you put no false construction on His word. What is this
+thing you have it in your heart to do?"
+
+Arthur stood up and answered slowly, as though repeating a catechism:
+
+"To give up my life to Italy, to help in freeing her from all this
+slavery and wretchedness, and in driving out the Austrians, that she may
+be a free republic, with no king but Christ."
+
+"Arthur, think a moment what you are saying! You are not even an
+Italian."
+
+"That makes no difference; I am myself. I have seen this thing, and I
+belong to it."
+
+There was silence again.
+
+"You spoke just now of what Christ would have said----" Montanelli began
+slowly; but Arthur interrupted him:
+
+"Christ said: 'He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.'"
+
+Montanelli leaned his arm against a branch, and shaded his eyes with one
+hand.
+
+"Sit down a moment, my son," he said at last.
+
+Arthur sat down, and the Padre took both his hands in a strong and
+steady clasp.
+
+"I cannot argue with you to-night," he said; "this has come upon me so
+suddenly--I had not thought--I must have time to think it over. Later on
+we will talk more definitely. But, for just now, I want you to remember
+one thing. If you get into trouble over this, if you--die, you will
+break my heart."
+
+"Padre----"
+
+"No; let me finish what I have to say. I told you once that I have no
+one in the world but you. I think you do not fully understand what that
+means. It is difficult when one is so young; at your age I should not
+have understood. Arthur, you are as my--as my--own son to me. Do you
+see? You are the light of my eyes and the desire of my heart. I would
+die to keep you from making a false step and ruining your life. But
+there is nothing I can do. I don't ask you to make any promises to me; I
+only ask you to remember this, and to be careful. Think well before
+you take an irrevocable step, for my sake, if not for the sake of your
+mother in heaven."
+
+"I will think--and--Padre, pray for me, and for Italy."
+
+He knelt down in silence, and in silence Montanelli laid his hand on the
+bent head. A moment later Arthur rose, kissed the hand, and went softly
+away across the dewy grass. Montanelli sat alone under the magnolia
+tree, looking straight before him into the blackness.
+
+"It is the vengeance of God that has fallen upon me," he thought, "as it
+fell upon David. I, that have defiled His sanctuary, and taken the Body
+of the Lord into polluted hands,--He has been very patient with me, and
+now it is come. 'For thou didst it secretly, but I will do this thing
+before all Israel, and before the sun; THE CHILD THAT IS BORN UNTO THEE
+SHALL SURELY DIE.'"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MR. JAMES BURTON did not at all like the idea of his young step-brother
+"careering about Switzerland" with Montanelli. But positively to forbid
+a harmless botanizing tour with an elderly professor of theology would
+seem to Arthur, who knew nothing of the reason for the prohibition,
+absurdly tyrannical. He would immediately attribute it to religious or
+racial prejudice; and the Burtons prided themselves on their
+enlightened tolerance. The whole family had been staunch Protestants
+and Conservatives ever since Burton & Sons, ship-owners, of London and
+Leghorn, had first set up in business, more than a century back. But
+they held that English gentlemen must deal fairly, even with Papists;
+and when the head of the house, finding it dull to remain a widower, had
+married the pretty Catholic governess of his younger children, the two
+elder sons, James and Thomas, much as they resented the presence of
+a step-mother hardly older than themselves, had submitted with sulky
+resignation to the will of Providence. Since the father's death the
+eldest brother's marriage had further complicated an already difficult
+position; but both brothers had honestly tried to protect Gladys, as
+long as she lived, from Julia's merciless tongue, and to do their duty,
+as they understood it, by Arthur. They did not even pretend to like the
+lad, and their generosity towards him showed itself chiefly in providing
+him with lavish supplies of pocket money and allowing him to go his own
+way.
+
+In answer to his letter, accordingly, Arthur received a cheque to
+cover his expenses and a cold permission to do as he pleased about
+his holidays. He expended half his spare cash on botanical books and
+pressing-cases, and started off with the Padre for his first Alpine
+ramble.
+
+Montanelli was in lighter spirits than Arthur had seen him in for a long
+while. After the first shock of the conversation in the garden he had
+gradually recovered his mental balance, and now looked upon the case
+more calmly. Arthur was very young and inexperienced; his decision could
+hardly be, as yet, irrevocable. Surely there was still time to win him
+back by gentle persuasion and reasoning from the dangerous path upon
+which he had barely entered.
+
+They had intended to stay a few days at Geneva; but at the first sight
+of the glaring white streets and dusty, tourist-crammed promenades,
+a little frown appeared on Arthur's face. Montanelli watched him with
+quiet amusement.
+
+"You don't like it, carino?"
+
+"I hardly know. It's so different from what I expected. Yes, the lake is
+beautiful, and I like the shape of those hills." They were standing on
+Rousseau's Island, and he pointed to the long, severe outlines of
+the Savoy side. "But the town looks so stiff and tidy, somehow--so
+Protestant; it has a self-satisfied air. No, I don't like it; it reminds
+me of Julia."
+
+Montanelli laughed. "Poor boy, what a misfortune! Well, we are here for
+our own amusement, so there is no reason why we should stop. Suppose we
+take a sail on the lake to-day, and go up into the mountains to-morrow
+morning?"
+
+"But, Padre, you wanted to stay here?"
+
+"My dear boy, I have seen all these places a dozen times. My holiday is
+to see your pleasure. Where would you like to go?"
+
+"If it is really the same to you, I should like to follow the river back
+to its source."
+
+"The Rhone?"
+
+"No, the Arve; it runs so fast."
+
+"Then we will go to Chamonix."
+
+They spent the afternoon drifting about in a little sailing boat. The
+beautiful lake produced far less impression upon Arthur than the gray
+and muddy Arve. He had grown up beside the Mediterranean, and was
+accustomed to blue ripples; but he had a positive passion for swiftly
+moving water, and the hurried rushing of the glacier stream delighted
+him beyond measure. "It is so much in earnest," he said.
+
+Early on the following morning they started for Chamonix. Arthur was in
+very high spirits while driving through the fertile valley country;
+but when they entered upon the winding road near Cluses, and the great,
+jagged hills closed in around them, he became serious and silent.
+From St. Martin they walked slowly up the valley, stopping to sleep at
+wayside chalets or tiny mountain villages, and wandering on again as
+their fancy directed. Arthur was peculiarly sensitive to the influence
+of scenery, and the first waterfall that they passed threw him into
+an ecstacy which was delightful to see; but as they drew nearer to
+the snow-peaks he passed out of this rapturous mood into one of dreamy
+exaltation that Montanelli had not seen before. There seemed to be a
+kind of mystical relationship between him and the mountains. He would
+lie for hours motionless in the dark, secret, echoing pine-forests,
+looking out between the straight, tall trunks into the sunlit outer
+world of flashing peaks and barren cliffs. Montanelli watched him with a
+kind of sad envy.
+
+"I wish you could show me what you see, carino," he said one day as he
+looked up from his book, and saw Arthur stretched beside him on the moss
+in the same attitude as an hour before, gazing out with wide, dilated
+eyes into the glittering expanse of blue and white. They had turned
+aside from the high-road to sleep at a quiet village near the falls
+of the Diosaz, and, the sun being already low in a cloudless sky, had
+mounted a point of pine-clad rock to wait for the Alpine glow over the
+dome and needles of the Mont Blanc chain. Arthur raised his head with
+eyes full of wonder and mystery.
+
+"What I see, Padre? I see a great, white being in a blue void that has
+no beginning and no end. I see it waiting, age after age, for the coming
+of the Spirit of God. I see it through a glass darkly."
+
+Montanelli sighed.
+
+"I used to see those things once."
+
+"Do you never see them now?"
+
+"Never. I shall not see them any more. They are there, I know; but I
+have not the eyes to see them. I see quite other things."
+
+"What do you see?"
+
+"I, carino? I see a blue sky and a snow-mountain--that is all when I
+look up into the heights. But down there it is different."
+
+He pointed to the valley below them. Arthur knelt down and bent over
+the sheer edge of the precipice. The great pine trees, dusky in the
+gathering shades of evening, stood like sentinels along the narrow banks
+confining the river. Presently the sun, red as a glowing coal, dipped
+behind a jagged mountain peak, and all the life and light deserted the
+face of nature. Straightway there came upon the valley something
+dark and threatening--sullen, terrible, full of spectral weapons. The
+perpendicular cliffs of the barren western mountains seemed like the
+teeth of a monster lurking to snatch a victim and drag him down into the
+maw of the deep valley, black with its moaning forests. The pine
+trees were rows of knife-blades whispering: "Fall upon us!" and in the
+gathering darkness the torrent roared and howled, beating against its
+rocky prison walls with the frenzy of an everlasting despair.
+
+"Padre!" Arthur rose, shuddering, and drew back from the precipice. "It
+is like hell."
+
+"No, my son," Montanelli answered softly, "it is only like a human
+soul."
+
+"The souls of them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death?"
+
+"The souls of them that pass you day by day in the street."
+
+Arthur shivered, looking down into the shadows. A dim white mist was
+hovering among the pine trees, clinging faintly about the desperate
+agony of the torrent, like a miserable ghost that had no consolation to
+give.
+
+"Look!" Arthur said suddenly. "The people that walked in darkness have
+seen a great light."
+
+Eastwards the snow-peaks burned in the afterglow. When the red light had
+faded from the summits Montanelli turned and roused Arthur with a touch
+on the shoulder.
+
+"Come in, carino; all the light is gone. We shall lose our way in the
+dark if we stay any longer."
+
+"It is like a corpse," Arthur said as he turned away from the spectral
+face of the great snow-peak glimmering through the twilight.
+
+They descended cautiously among the black trees to the chalet where they
+were to sleep.
+
+As Montanelli entered the room where Arthur was waiting for him at the
+supper table, he saw that the lad seemed to have shaken off the ghostly
+fancies of the dark, and to have changed into quite another creature.
+
+"Oh, Padre, do come and look at this absurd dog! It can dance on its
+hind legs."
+
+He was as much absorbed in the dog and its accomplishments as he
+had been in the after-glow. The woman of the chalet, red-faced and
+white-aproned, with sturdy arms akimbo, stood by smiling, while he put
+the animal through its tricks. "One can see there's not much on his mind
+if he can carry on that way," she said in patois to her daughter. "And
+what a handsome lad!"
+
+Arthur coloured like a schoolgirl, and the woman, seeing that he had
+understood, went away laughing at his confusion. At supper he talked
+of nothing but plans for excursions, mountain ascents, and botanizing
+expeditions. Evidently his dreamy fancies had not interfered with either
+his spirits or his appetite.
+
+When Montanelli awoke the next morning Arthur had disappeared. He had
+started before daybreak for the higher pastures "to help Gaspard drive
+up the goats."
+
+Breakfast had not long been on the table, however, when he came tearing
+into the room, hatless, with a tiny peasant girl of three years old
+perched on his shoulder, and a great bunch of wild flowers in his hand.
+
+Montanelli looked up, smiling. This was a curious contrast to the grave
+and silent Arthur of Pisa or Leghorn.
+
+"Where have you been, you madcap? Scampering all over the mountains
+without any breakfast?"
+
+"Oh, Padre, it was so jolly! The mountains look perfectly glorious at
+sunrise; and the dew is so thick! Just look!"
+
+He lifted for inspection a wet and muddy boot.
+
+"We took some bread and cheese with us, and got some goat's milk up
+there on the pasture; oh, it was nasty! But I'm hungry again, now; and I
+want something for this little person, too. Annette, won't you have some
+honey?"
+
+He had sat down with the child on his knee, and was helping her to put
+the flowers in order.
+
+"No, no!" Montanelli interposed. "I can't have you catching cold. Run
+and change your wet things. Come to me, Annette. Where did you pick her
+up?"
+
+"At the top of the village. She belongs to the man we saw yesterday--the
+man that cobbles the commune's boots. Hasn't she lovely eyes? She's got
+a tortoise in her pocket, and she calls it 'Caroline.'"
+
+When Arthur had changed his wet socks and came down to breakfast he
+found the child seated on the Padre's knee, chattering volubly to him
+about her tortoise, which she was holding upside down in a chubby hand,
+that "monsieur" might admire the wriggling legs.
+
+"Look, monsieur!" she was saying gravely in her half-intelligible
+patois: "Look at Caroline's boots!"
+
+Montanelli sat playing with the child, stroking her hair, admiring her
+darling tortoise, and telling her wonderful stories. The woman of the
+chalet, coming in to clear the table, stared in amazement at the sight
+of Annette turning out the pockets of the grave gentleman in clerical
+dress.
+
+"God teaches the little ones to know a good man," she said. "Annette is
+always afraid of strangers; and see, she is not shy with his reverence
+at all. The wonderful thing! Kneel down, Annette, and ask the good
+monsieur's blessing before he goes; it will bring thee luck."
+
+"I didn't know you could play with children that way, Padre," Arthur
+said an hour later, as they walked through the sunlit pasture-land.
+"That child never took her eyes off you all the time. Do you know, I
+think----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I was only going to say--it seems to me almost a pity that the Church
+should forbid priests to marry. I cannot quite understand why. You see,
+the training of children is such a serious thing, and it means so much
+to them to be surrounded from the very beginning with good influences,
+that I should have thought the holier a man's vocation and the purer his
+life, the more fit he is to be a father. I am sure, Padre, if you had
+not been under a vow,--if you had married,--your children would have
+been the very----"
+
+"Hush!"
+
+The word was uttered in a hasty whisper that seemed to deepen the
+ensuing silence.
+
+"Padre," Arthur began again, distressed by the other's sombre look, "do
+you think there is anything wrong in what I said? Of course I may be
+mistaken; but I must think as it comes natural to me to think."
+
+"Perhaps," Montanelli answered gently, "you do not quite realize the
+meaning of what you just said. You will see differently in a few years.
+Meanwhile we had better talk about something else."
+
+It was the first break in the perfect ease and harmony that reigned
+between them on this ideal holiday.
+
+From Chamonix they went on by the Tete-Noire to Martigny, where they
+stopped to rest, as the weather was stiflingly hot. After dinner they
+sat on the terrace of the hotel, which was sheltered from the sun and
+commanded a good view of the mountains. Arthur brought out his specimen
+box and plunged into an earnest botanical discussion in Italian.
+
+Two English artists were sitting on the terrace; one sketching, the
+other lazily chatting. It did not seem to have occurred to him that the
+strangers might understand English.
+
+"Leave off daubing at the landscape, Willie," he said; "and draw that
+glorious Italian boy going into ecstasies over those bits of ferns. Just
+look at the line of his eyebrows! You only need to put a crucifix for
+the magnifying-glass and a Roman toga for the jacket and knickerbockers,
+and there's your Early Christian complete, expression and all."
+
+"Early Christian be hanged! I sat beside that youth at dinner; he was
+just as ecstatic over the roast fowl as over those grubby little weeds.
+He's pretty enough; that olive colouring is beautiful; but he's not half
+so picturesque as his father."
+
+"His--who?"
+
+"His father, sitting there straight in front of you. Do you mean to say
+you've passed him over? It's a perfectly magnificent face."
+
+"Why, you dunder-headed, go-to-meeting Methodist! Don't you know a
+Catholic priest when you see one?"
+
+"A priest? By Jove, so he is! Yes, I forgot; vow of chastity, and all
+that sort of thing. Well then, we'll be charitable and suppose the boy's
+his nephew."
+
+"What idiotic people!" Arthur whispered, looking up with dancing eyes.
+"Still, it is kind of them to think me like you; I wish I were really
+your nephew----Padre, what is the matter? How white you are!"
+
+Montanelli was standing up, pressing one hand to his forehead. "I am a
+little giddy," he said in a curiously faint, dull tone. "Perhaps I was
+too much in the sun this morning. I will go and lie down, carino; it's
+nothing but the heat."
+
+   *****
+
+After a fortnight beside the Lake of Lucerne Arthur and Montanelli
+returned to Italy by the St. Gothard Pass. They had been fortunate as
+to weather and had made several very pleasant excursions; but the
+first charm was gone out of their enjoyment. Montanelli was continually
+haunted by an uneasy thought of the "more definite talk" for which this
+holiday was to have been the opportunity. In the Arve valley he had
+purposely put off all reference to the subject of which they had spoken
+under the magnolia tree; it would be cruel, he thought, to spoil the
+first delights of Alpine scenery for a nature so artistic as Arthur's by
+associating them with a conversation which must necessarily be painful.
+Ever since the day at Martigny he had said to himself each morning; "I
+will speak to-day," and each evening: "I will speak to-morrow;" and now
+the holiday was over, and he still repeated again and again: "To-morrow,
+to-morrow." A chill, indefinable sense of something not quite the same
+as it had been, of an invisible veil falling between himself and
+Arthur, kept him silent, until, on the last evening of their holiday, he
+realized suddenly that he must speak now if he would speak at all. They
+were stopping for the night at Lugano, and were to start for Pisa next
+morning. He would at least find out how far his darling had been drawn
+into the fatal quicksand of Italian politics.
+
+"The rain has stopped, carino," he said after sunset; "and this is the
+only chance we shall have to see the lake. Come out; I want to have a
+talk with you."
+
+They walked along the water's edge to a quiet spot and sat down on a
+low stone wall. Close beside them grew a rose-bush, covered with scarlet
+hips; one or two belated clusters of creamy blossom still hung from an
+upper branch, swaying mournfully and heavy with raindrops. On the green
+surface of the lake a little boat, with white wings faintly fluttering,
+rocked in the dewy breeze. It looked as light and frail as a tuft of
+silvery dandelion seed flung upon the water. High up on Monte Salvatore
+the window of some shepherd's hut opened a golden eye. The roses hung
+their heads and dreamed under the still September clouds, and the water
+plashed and murmured softly among the pebbles of the shore.
+
+"This will be my only chance of a quiet talk with you for a long time,"
+Montanelli began. "You will go back to your college work and friends;
+and I, too, shall be very busy this winter. I want to understand quite
+clearly what our position as regards each other is to be; and so, if
+you----" He stopped for a moment and then continued more slowly: "If you
+feel that you can still trust me as you used to do, I want you to tell
+me more definitely than that night in the seminary garden, how far you
+have gone."
+
+Arthur looked out across the water, listened quietly, and said nothing.
+
+"I want to know, if you will tell me," Montanelli went on; "whether you
+have bound yourself by a vow, or--in any way."
+
+"There is nothing to tell, dear Padre; I have not bound myself, but I am
+bound."
+
+"I don't understand------"
+
+"What is the use of vows? They are not what binds people. If you feel
+in a certain way about a thing, that binds you to it; if you don't feel
+that way, nothing else can bind you."
+
+"Do you mean, then, that this thing--this--feeling is quite irrevocable?
+Arthur, have you thought what you are saying?"
+
+Arthur turned round and looked straight into Montanelli's eyes.
+
+"Padre, you asked me if I could trust you. Can you not trust me, too?
+Indeed, if there were anything to tell, I would tell it to you; but
+there is no use in talking about these things. I have not forgotten what
+you said to me that night; I shall never forget it. But I must go my way
+and follow the light that I see."
+
+Montanelli picked a rose from the bush, pulled off the petals one by
+one, and tossed them into the water.
+
+"You are right, carino. Yes, we will say no more about these things;
+it seems there is indeed no help in many words----Well, well, let us go
+in."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE autumn and winter passed uneventfully. Arthur was reading hard and
+had little spare time. He contrived to get a glimpse of Montanelli once
+or oftener in every week, if only for a few minutes. From time to time
+he would come in to ask for help with some difficult book; but on these
+occasions the subject of study was strictly adhered to. Montanelli,
+feeling, rather than observing, the slight, impalpable barrier that
+had come between them, shrank from everything which might seem like an
+attempt to retain the old close relationship. Arthur's visits now caused
+him more distress than pleasure, so trying was the constant effort to
+appear at ease and to behave as if nothing were altered. Arthur, for his
+part, noticed, hardly understanding it, the subtle change in the Padre's
+manner; and, vaguely feeling that it had some connection with the vexed
+question of the "new ideas," avoided all mention of the subject with
+which his thoughts were constantly filled. Yet he had never
+loved Montanelli so deeply as now. The dim, persistent sense of
+dissatisfaction, of spiritual emptiness, which he had tried so hard to
+stifle under a load of theology and ritual, had vanished into nothing at
+the touch of Young Italy. All the unhealthy fancies born of loneliness
+and sick-room watching had passed away, and the doubts against which he
+used to pray had gone without the need of exorcism. With the awakening
+of a new enthusiasm, a clearer, fresher religious ideal (for it was more
+in this light than in that of a political development that the
+students' movement had appeared to him), had come a sense of rest and
+completeness, of peace on earth and good will towards men; and in this
+mood of solemn and tender exaltation all the world seemed to him full of
+light. He found a new element of something lovable in the persons whom
+he had most disliked; and Montanelli, who for five years had been his
+ideal hero, was now in his eyes surrounded with an additional halo, as
+a potential prophet of the new faith. He listened with passionate
+eagerness to the Padre's sermons, trying to find in them some trace of
+inner kinship with the republican ideal; and pored over the Gospels,
+rejoicing in the democratic tendencies of Christianity at its origin.
+
+One day in January he called at the seminary to return a book which he
+had borrowed. Hearing that the Father Director was out, he went up to
+Montanelli's private study, placed the volume on its shelf, and was
+about to leave the room when the title of a book lying on the table
+caught his eyes. It was Dante's "De Monarchia." He began to read it and
+soon became so absorbed that when the door opened and shut he did not
+hear. He was aroused from his preoccupation by Montanelli's voice behind
+him.
+
+"I did not expect you to-day," said the Padre, glancing at the title of
+the book. "I was just going to send and ask if you could come to me this
+evening."
+
+"Is it anything important? I have an engagement for this evening; but I
+will miss it if------"
+
+"No; to-morrow will do. I want to see you because I am going away on
+Tuesday. I have been sent for to Rome."
+
+"To Rome? For long?"
+
+"The letter says, 'till after Easter.' It is from the Vatican. I would
+have let you know at once, but have been very busy settling up things
+about the seminary and making arrangements for the new Director."
+
+"But, Padre, surely you are not giving up the seminary?"
+
+"It will have to be so; but I shall probably come back to Pisa, for some
+time at least."
+
+"But why are you giving it up?"
+
+"Well, it is not yet officially announced; but I am offered a
+bishopric."
+
+"Padre! Where?"
+
+"That is the point about which I have to go to Rome. It is not yet
+decided whether I am to take a see in the Apennines, or to remain here
+as Suffragan."
+
+"And is the new Director chosen yet?"
+
+"Father Cardi has been nominated and arrives here to-morrow."
+
+"Is not that rather sudden?"
+
+"Yes; but----The decisions of the Vatican are sometimes not communicated
+till the last moment."
+
+"Do you know the new Director?"
+
+"Not personally; but he is very highly spoken of. Monsignor Belloni, who
+writes, says that he is a man of great erudition."
+
+"The seminary will miss you terribly."
+
+"I don't know about the seminary, but I am sure you will miss me,
+carino; perhaps almost as much as I shall miss you."
+
+"I shall indeed; but I am very glad, for all that."
+
+"Are you? I don't know that I am." He sat down at the table with a weary
+look on his face; not the look of a man who is expecting high promotion.
+
+"Are you busy this afternoon, Arthur?" he said after a moment. "If not,
+I wish you would stay with me for a while, as you can't come to-night.
+I am a little out of sorts, I think; and I want to see as much of you as
+possible before leaving."
+
+"Yes, I can stay a bit. I am due at six."
+
+"One of your meetings?"
+
+Arthur nodded; and Montanelli changed the subject hastily.
+
+"I want to speak to you about yourself," he said. "You will need another
+confessor in my absence."
+
+"When you come back I may go on confessing to you, may I not?"
+
+"My dear boy, how can you ask? Of course I am speaking only of the three
+or four months that I shall be away. Will you go to one of the Fathers
+of Santa Caterina?"
+
+"Very well."
+
+They talked of other matters for a little while; then Arthur rose.
+
+"I must go, Padre; the students will be waiting for me."
+
+The haggard look came back to Montanelli's face.
+
+"Already? You had almost charmed away my black mood. Well, good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye. I will be sure to come to-morrow."
+
+"Try to come early, so that I may have time to see you alone. Father
+Cardi will be here. Arthur, my dear boy, be careful while I am gone;
+don't be led into doing anything rash, at least before I come back. You
+cannot think how anxious I feel about leaving you."
+
+"There is no need, Padre; everything is quite quiet. It will be a long
+time yet."
+
+"Good-bye," Montanelli said abruptly, and sat down to his writing.
+
+The first person upon whom Arthur's eyes fell, as he entered the room
+where the students' little gatherings were held, was his old playmate,
+Dr. Warren's daughter. She was sitting in a corner by the window,
+listening with an absorbed and earnest face to what one of the
+"initiators," a tall young Lombard in a threadbare coat, was saying to
+her. During the last few months she had changed and developed greatly,
+and now looked a grown-up young woman, though the dense black plaits
+still hung down her back in school-girl fashion. She was dressed all in
+black, and had thrown a black scarf over her head, as the room was cold
+and draughty. At her breast was a spray of cypress, the emblem of Young
+Italy. The initiator was passionately describing to her the misery
+of the Calabrian peasantry; and she sat listening silently, her chin
+resting on one hand and her eyes on the ground. To Arthur she seemed
+a melancholy vision of Liberty mourning for the lost Republic.
+(Julia would have seen in her only an overgrown hoyden, with a sallow
+complexion, an irregular nose, and an old stuff frock that was too short
+for her.)
+
+"You here, Jim!" he said, coming up to her when the initiator had been
+called to the other end of the room. "Jim" was a childish corruption of
+her curious baptismal name: Jennifer. Her Italian schoolmates called her
+"Gemma."
+
+She raised her head with a start.
+
+"Arthur! Oh, I didn't know you--belonged here!"
+
+"And I had no idea about you. Jim, since when have you----?"
+
+"You don't understand!" she interposed quickly. "I am not a member.
+It is only that I have done one or two little things. You see, I met
+Bini--you know Carlo Bini?"
+
+"Yes, of course." Bini was the organizer of the Leghorn branch; and all
+Young Italy knew him.
+
+"Well, he began talking to me about these things; and I asked him to
+let me go to a students' meeting. The other day he wrote to me to
+Florence------Didn't you know I had been to Florence for the Christmas
+holidays?"
+
+"I don't often hear from home now."
+
+"Ah, yes! Anyhow, I went to stay with the Wrights." (The Wrights were
+old schoolfellows of hers who had moved to Florence.) "Then Bini wrote
+and told me to pass through Pisa to-day on my way home, so that I could
+come here. Ah! they're going to begin."
+
+The lecture was upon the ideal Republic and the duty of the young to
+fit themselves for it. The lecturer's comprehension of his subject was
+somewhat vague; but Arthur listened with devout admiration. His mind at
+this period was curiously uncritical; when he accepted a moral ideal
+he swallowed it whole without stopping to think whether it was quite
+digestible. When the lecture and the long discussion which followed it
+were finished and the students began to disperse, he went up to Gemma,
+who was still sitting in the corner of the room.
+
+"Let me walk with you, Jim. Where are you staying?"
+
+"With Marietta."
+
+"Your father's old housekeeper?"
+
+"Yes; she lives a good way from here."
+
+They walked for some time in silence. Then Arthur said suddenly:
+
+"You are seventeen, now, aren't you?"
+
+"I was seventeen in October."
+
+"I always knew you would not grow up like other girls and begin wanting
+to go to balls and all that sort of thing. Jim, dear, I have so often
+wondered whether you would ever come to be one of us."
+
+"So have I."
+
+"You said you had done things for Bini; I didn't know you even knew
+him."
+
+"It wasn't for Bini; it was for the other one."
+
+"Which other one?"
+
+"The one that was talking to me to-night--Bolla."
+
+"Do you know him well?" Arthur put in with a little touch of jealousy.
+Bolla was a sore subject with him; there had been a rivalry between them
+about some work which the committee of Young Italy had finally intrusted
+to Bolla, declaring Arthur too young and inexperienced.
+
+"I know him pretty well; and I like him very much. He has been staying
+in Leghorn."
+
+"I know; he went there in November------"
+
+"Because of the steamers. Arthur, don't you think your house would be
+safer than ours for that work? Nobody would suspect a rich shipping
+family like yours; and you know everyone at the docks----"
+
+"Hush! not so loud, dear! So it was in your house the books from
+Marseilles were hidden?"
+
+"Only for one day. Oh! perhaps I oughtn't to have told you."
+
+"Why not? You know I belong to the society. Gemma, dear, there is
+nothing in all the world that would make me so happy as for you to join
+us--you and the Padre."
+
+"Your Padre! Surely he----"
+
+"No; he thinks differently. But I have sometimes fancied--that
+is--hoped--I don't know----"
+
+"But, Arthur! he's a priest."
+
+"What of that? There are priests in the society--two of them write in
+the paper. And why not? It is the mission of the priesthood to lead the
+world to higher ideals and aims, and what else does the society try
+to do? It is, after all, more a religious and moral question than a
+political one. If people are fit to be free and responsible citizens, no
+one can keep them enslaved."
+
+Gemma knit her brows. "It seems to me, Arthur," she said, "that there's
+a muddle somewhere in your logic. A priest teaches religious doctrine. I
+don't see what that has to do with getting rid of the Austrians."
+
+"A priest is a teacher of Christianity, and the greatest of all
+revolutionists was Christ."
+
+"Do you know, I was talking about priests to father the other day, and
+he said----"
+
+"Gemma, your father is a Protestant."
+
+After a little pause she looked round at him frankly.
+
+"Look here, we had better leave this subject alone. You are always
+intolerant when you talk about Protestants."
+
+"I didn't mean to be intolerant. But I think Protestants are generally
+intolerant when they talk about priests."
+
+"I dare say. Anyhow, we have so often quarreled over this subject
+that it is not worth while to begin again. What did you think of the
+lecture?"
+
+"I liked it very much--especially the last part. I was glad he spoke so
+strongly about the need of living the Republic, not dreaming of it. It
+is as Christ said: 'The Kingdom of Heaven is within you.'"
+
+"It was just that part that I didn't like. He talked so much of the
+wonderful things we ought to think and feel and be, but he never told us
+practically what we ought to do."
+
+"When the time of crisis comes there will be plenty for us to do; but we
+must be patient; these great changes are not made in a day."
+
+"The longer a thing is to take doing, the more reason to begin at once.
+You talk about being fit for freedom--did you ever know anyone so fit
+for it as your mother? Wasn't she the most perfectly angelic woman you
+ever saw? And what use was all her goodness? She was a slave till the
+day she died--bullied and worried and insulted by your brother James and
+his wife. It would have been much better for her if she had not been so
+sweet and patient; they would never have treated her so. That's just the
+way with Italy; it's not patience that's wanted--it's for somebody to
+get up and defend themselves------"
+
+"Jim, dear, if anger and passion could have saved Italy she would have
+been free long ago; it is not hatred that she needs, it is love."
+
+As he said the word a sudden flush went up to his forehead and died out
+again. Gemma did not see it; she was looking straight before her with
+knitted brows and set mouth.
+
+"You think I am wrong, Arthur," she said after a pause; "but I am right,
+and you will grow to see it some day. This is the house. Will you come
+in?"
+
+"No; it's late. Good-night, dear!"
+
+He was standing on the doorstep, clasping her hand in both of his.
+
+"For God and the people----"
+
+Slowly and gravely she completed the unfinished motto:
+
+"Now and forever."
+
+Then she pulled away her hand and ran into the house. When the door had
+closed behind her he stooped and picked up the spray of cypress which
+had fallen from her breast.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ARTHUR went back to his lodgings feeling as though he had wings. He was
+absolutely, cloudlessly happy. At the meeting there had been hints of
+preparations for armed insurrection; and now Gemma was a comrade, and he
+loved her. They could work together, possibly even die together, for the
+Republic that was to be. The blossoming time of their hope was come, and
+the Padre would see it and believe.
+
+The next morning, however, he awoke in a soberer mood and remembered
+that Gemma was going to Leghorn and the Padre to Rome. January,
+February, March--three long months to Easter! And if Gemma should
+fall under "Protestant" influences at home (in Arthur's vocabulary
+"Protestant" stood for "Philistine")------No, Gemma would never learn to
+flirt and simper and captivate tourists and bald-headed shipowners, like
+the other English girls in Leghorn; she was made of different stuff. But
+she might be very miserable; she was so young, so friendless, so utterly
+alone among all those wooden people. If only mother had lived----
+
+In the evening he went to the seminary, where he found Montanelli
+entertaining the new Director and looking both tired and bored. Instead
+of lighting up, as usual, at the sight of Arthur, the Padre's face grew
+darker.
+
+"This is the student I spoke to you about," he said, introducing Arthur
+stiffly. "I shall be much obliged if you will allow him to continue
+using the library."
+
+Father Cardi, a benevolent-looking elderly priest, at once began talking
+to Arthur about the Sapienza, with an ease and familiarity which showed
+him to be well acquainted with college life. The conversation soon
+drifted into a discussion of university regulations, a burning question
+of that day. To Arthur's great delight, the new Director spoke strongly
+against the custom adopted by the university authorities of constantly
+worrying the students by senseless and vexatious restrictions.
+
+"I have had a good deal of experience in guiding young people," he said;
+"and I make it a rule never to prohibit anything without a good reason.
+There are very few young men who will give much trouble if proper
+consideration and respect for their personality are shown to them. But,
+of course, the most docile horse will kick if you are always jerking at
+the rein."
+
+Arthur opened his eyes wide; he had not expected to hear the students'
+cause pleaded by the new Director. Montanelli took no part in the
+discussion; its subject, apparently, did not interest him. The
+expression of his face was so unutterably hopeless and weary that Father
+Cardi broke off suddenly.
+
+"I am afraid I have overtired you, Canon. You must forgive my
+talkativeness; I am hot upon this subject and forget that others may
+grow weary of it."
+
+"On the contrary, I was much interested." Montanelli was not given to
+stereotyped politeness, and his tone jarred uncomfortably upon Arthur.
+
+When Father Cardi went to his own room Montanelli turned to Arthur with
+the intent and brooding look that his face had worn all the evening.
+
+"Arthur, my dear boy," he began slowly; "I have something to tell you."
+
+"He must have had bad news," flashed through Arthur's mind, as he looked
+anxiously at the haggard face. There was a long pause.
+
+"How do you like the new Director?" Montanelli asked suddenly.
+
+The question was so unexpected that, for a moment, Arthur was at a loss
+how to reply to it.
+
+"I--I like him very much, I think--at least--no, I am not quite sure
+that I do. But it is difficult to say, after seeing a person once."
+
+Montanelli sat beating his hand gently on the arm of his chair; a habit
+with him when anxious or perplexed.
+
+"About this journey to Rome," he began again; "if you think there is
+any--well--if you wish it, Arthur, I will write and say I cannot go."
+
+"Padre! But the Vatican------"
+
+"The Vatican will find someone else. I can send apologies."
+
+"But why? I can't understand."
+
+Montanelli drew one hand across his forehead.
+
+"I am anxious about you. Things keep coming into my head--and after all,
+there is no need for me to go------"
+
+"But the bishopric----"
+
+"Oh, Arthur! what shall it profit me if I gain a bishopric and lose----"
+
+He broke off. Arthur had never seen him like this before, and was
+greatly troubled.
+
+"I can't understand," he said. "Padre, if you could explain to me
+more--more definitely, what it is you think------"
+
+"I think nothing; I am haunted with a horrible fear. Tell me, is there
+any special danger?"
+
+"He has heard something," Arthur thought, remembering the whispers of
+a projected revolt. But the secret was not his to tell; and he merely
+answered: "What special danger should there be?"
+
+"Don't question me--answer me!" Montanelli's voice was almost harsh in
+its eagerness. "Are you in danger? I don't want to know your secrets;
+only tell me that!"
+
+"We are all in God's hands, Padre; anything may always happen. But I
+know of no reason why I should not be here alive and safe when you come
+back."
+
+"When I come back----Listen, carino; I will leave it in your hands. You
+need give me no reason; only say to me, 'Stay,' and I will give up this
+journey. There will be no injury to anyone, and I shall feel you are
+safer if I have you beside me."
+
+This kind of morbid fancifulness was so foreign to Montanelli's
+character that Arthur looked at him with grave anxiety.
+
+"Padre, I am sure you are not well. Of course you must go to Rome,
+and try to have a thorough rest and get rid of your sleeplessness and
+headaches."
+
+"Very well," Montanelli interrupted, as if tired of the subject; "I will
+start by the early coach to-morrow morning."
+
+Arthur looked at him, wondering.
+
+"You had something to tell me?" he said.
+
+"No, no; nothing more--nothing of any consequence." There was a
+startled, almost terrified look in his face.
+
+A few days after Montanelli's departure Arthur went to fetch a book from
+the seminary library, and met Father Cardi on the stairs.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Burton!" exclaimed the Director; "the very person I wanted.
+Please come in and help me out of a difficulty."
+
+He opened the study door, and Arthur followed him into the room with
+a foolish, secret sense of resentment. It seemed hard to see this dear
+study, the Padre's own private sanctum, invaded by a stranger.
+
+"I am a terrible book-worm," said the Director; "and my first act when I
+got here was to examine the library. It seems very interesting, but I do
+not understand the system by which it is catalogued."
+
+"The catalogue is imperfect; many of the best books have been added to
+the collection lately."
+
+"Can you spare half an hour to explain the arrangement to me?"
+
+They went into the library, and Arthur carefully explained the
+catalogue. When he rose to take his hat, the Director interfered,
+laughing.
+
+"No, no! I can't have you rushing off in that way. It is Saturday, and
+quite time for you to leave off work till Monday morning. Stop and have
+supper with me, now I have kept you so late. I am quite alone, and shall
+be glad of company."
+
+His manner was so bright and pleasant that Arthur felt at ease with him
+at once. After some desultory conversation, the Director inquired how
+long he had known Montanelli.
+
+"For about seven years. He came back from China when I was twelve years
+old."
+
+"Ah, yes! It was there that he gained his reputation as a missionary
+preacher. Have you been his pupil ever since?"
+
+"He began teaching me a year later, about the time when I first
+confessed to him. Since I have been at the Sapienza he has still gone on
+helping me with anything I wanted to study that was not in the regular
+course. He has been very kind to me--you can hardly imagine how kind."
+
+"I can well believe it; he is a man whom no one can fail to admire--a
+most noble and beautiful nature. I have met priests who were out in
+China with him; and they had no words high enough to praise his energy
+and courage under all hardships, and his unfailing devotion. You are
+fortunate to have had in your youth the help and guidance of such a man.
+I understood from him that you have lost both parents."
+
+"Yes; my father died when I was a child, and my mother a year ago."
+
+"Have you brothers and sisters?"
+
+"No; I have step-brothers; but they were business men when I was in the
+nursery."
+
+"You must have had a lonely childhood; perhaps you value Canon
+Montanelli's kindness the more for that. By the way, have you chosen a
+confessor for the time of his absence?"
+
+"I thought of going to one of the fathers of Santa Caterina, if they
+have not too many penitents."
+
+"Will you confess to me?"
+
+Arthur opened his eyes in wonder.
+
+"Reverend Father, of course I--should be glad; only----"
+
+"Only the Director of a theological seminary does not usually receive
+lay penitents? That is quite true. But I know Canon Montanelli takes
+a great interest in you, and I fancy he is a little anxious on your
+behalf--just as I should be if I were leaving a favourite pupil--and
+would like to know you were under the spiritual guidance of his
+colleague. And, to be quite frank with you, my son, I like you, and
+should be glad to give you any help I can."
+
+"If you put it that way, of course I shall be very grateful for your
+guidance."
+
+"Then you will come to me next month? That's right. And run in to see
+me, my lad, when you have time any evening."
+
+    *****
+
+Shortly before Easter Montanelli's appointment to the little see of
+Brisighella, in the Etruscan Apennines, was officially announced. He
+wrote to Arthur from Rome in a cheerful and tranquil spirit; evidently
+his depression was passing over. "You must come to see me every
+vacation," he wrote; "and I shall often be coming to Pisa; so I hope to
+see a good deal of you, if not so much as I should wish."
+
+Dr. Warren had invited Arthur to spend the Easter holidays with him and
+his children, instead of in the dreary, rat-ridden old place where Julia
+now reigned supreme. Enclosed in the letter was a short note, scrawled
+in Gemma's childish, irregular handwriting, begging him to come if
+possible, "as I want to talk to you about something." Still more
+encouraging was the whispered communication passing around from student
+to student in the university; everyone was to be prepared for great
+things after Easter.
+
+All this had put Arthur into a state of rapturous anticipation, in which
+the wildest improbabilities hinted at among the students seemed to him
+natural and likely to be realized within the next two months.
+
+He arranged to go home on Thursday in Passion week, and to spend the
+first days of the vacation there, that the pleasure of visiting the
+Warrens and the delight of seeing Gemma might not unfit him for the
+solemn religious meditation demanded by the Church from all her children
+at this season. He wrote to Gemma, promising to come on Easter Monday;
+and went up to his bedroom on Wednesday night with a soul at peace.
+
+He knelt down before the crucifix. Father Cardi had promised to receive
+him in the morning; and for this, his last confession before the Easter
+communion, he must prepare himself by long and earnest prayer. Kneeling
+with clasped hands and bent head, he looked back over the month, and
+reckoned up the miniature sins of impatience, carelessness, hastiness
+of temper, which had left their faint, small spots upon the whiteness of
+his soul. Beyond these he could find nothing; in this month he had
+been too happy to sin much. He crossed himself, and, rising, began to
+undress.
+
+As he unfastened his shirt a scrap of paper slipped from it and
+fluttered to the floor. It was Gemma's letter, which he had worn all
+day upon his neck. He picked it up, unfolded it, and kissed the
+dear scribble; then began folding the paper up again, with a dim
+consciousness of having done something very ridiculous, when he noticed
+on the back of the sheet a postscript which he had not read before.
+"Be sure and come as soon as possible," it ran, "for I want you to meet
+Bolla. He has been staying here, and we have read together every day."
+
+The hot colour went up to Arthur's forehead as he read.
+
+Always Bolla! What was he doing in Leghorn again? And why should Gemma
+want to read with him? Had he bewitched her with his smuggling? It had
+been quite easy to see at the meeting in January that he was in love
+with her; that was why he had been so earnest over his propaganda. And
+now he was close to her--reading with her every day.
+
+Arthur suddenly threw the letter aside and knelt down again before the
+crucifix. And this was the soul that was preparing for absolution, for
+the Easter sacrament--the soul at peace with God and itself and all the
+world! A soul capable of sordid jealousies and suspicions; of selfish
+animosities and ungenerous hatred--and against a comrade! He covered his
+face with both hands in bitter humiliation. Only five minutes ago he
+had been dreaming of martyrdom; and now he had been guilty of a mean and
+petty thought like this!
+
+When he entered the seminary chapel on Thursday morning he found Father
+Cardi alone. After repeating the Confiteor, he plunged at once into the
+subject of his last night's backsliding.
+
+"My father, I accuse myself of the sins of jealousy and anger, and of
+unworthy thoughts against one who has done me no wrong."
+
+Farther Cardi knew quite well with what kind of penitent he had to deal.
+He only said softly:
+
+"You have not told me all, my son."
+
+"Father, the man against whom I have thought an unchristian thought is
+one whom I am especially bound to love and honour."
+
+"One to whom you are bound by ties of blood?"
+
+"By a still closer tie."
+
+"By what tie, my son?"
+
+"By that of comradeship."
+
+"Comradeship in what?"
+
+"In a great and holy work."
+
+A little pause.
+
+"And your anger against this--comrade, your jealousy of him, was called
+forth by his success in that work being greater than yours?"
+
+"I--yes, partly. I envied him his experience--his usefulness. And
+then--I thought--I feared--that he would take from me the heart of the
+girl I--love."
+
+"And this girl that you love, is she a daughter of the Holy Church?"
+
+"No; she is a Protestant."
+
+"A heretic?"
+
+Arthur clasped his hands in great distress. "Yes, a heretic," he
+repeated. "We were brought up together; our mothers were
+friends--and I--envied him, because I saw that he loves her, too, and
+because--because----"
+
+"My son," said Father Cardi, speaking after a moment's silence, slowly
+and gravely, "you have still not told me all; there is more than this
+upon your soul."
+
+"Father, I----" He faltered and broke off again.
+
+The priest waited silently.
+
+"I envied him because the society--the Young Italy--that I belong
+to------"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Intrusted him with a work that I had hoped--would be given to me, that
+I had thought myself--specially adapted for."
+
+"What work?"
+
+"The taking in of books--political books--from the steamers that bring
+them--and finding a hiding place for them--in the town------"
+
+"And this work was given by the party to your rival?"
+
+"To Bolla--and I envied him."
+
+"And he gave you no cause for this feeling? You do not accuse him of
+having neglected the mission intrusted to him?"
+
+"No, father; he has worked bravely and devotedly; he is a true patriot
+and has deserved nothing but love and respect from me."
+
+Father Cardi pondered.
+
+"My son, if there is within you a new light, a dream of some great work
+to be accomplished for your fellow-men, a hope that shall lighten the
+burdens of the weary and oppressed, take heed how you deal with the most
+precious blessing of God. All good things are of His giving; and of His
+giving is the new birth. If you have found the way of sacrifice, the way
+that leads to peace; if you have joined with loving comrades to bring
+deliverance to them that weep and mourn in secret; then see to it that
+your soul be free from envy and passion and your heart as an altar where
+the sacred fire burns eternally. Remember that this is a high and holy
+thing, and that the heart which would receive it must be purified from
+every selfish thought. This vocation is as the vocation of a priest;
+it is not for the love of a woman, nor for the moment of a fleeting
+passion; it is FOR GOD AND THE PEOPLE; it is NOW AND FOREVER."
+
+"Ah!" Arthur started and clasped his hands; he had almost burst out
+sobbing at the motto. "Father, you give us the sanction of the Church!
+Christ is on our side----"
+
+"My son," the priest answered solemnly, "Christ drove the moneychangers
+out of the Temple, for His House shall be called a House of Prayer, and
+they had made it a den of thieves."
+
+After a long silence, Arthur whispered tremulously:
+
+"And Italy shall be His Temple when they are driven out----"
+
+He stopped; and the soft answer came back:
+
+"'The earth and the fulness thereof are mine, saith the Lord.'"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THAT afternoon Arthur felt the need of a long walk. He intrusted his
+luggage to a fellow-student and went to Leghorn on foot.
+
+The day was damp and cloudy, but not cold; and the low, level country
+seemed to him fairer than he had ever known it to look before. He had a
+sense of delight in the soft elasticity of the wet grass under his
+feet and in the shy, wondering eyes of the wild spring flowers by the
+roadside. In a thorn-acacia bush at the edge of a little strip of wood
+a bird was building a nest, and flew up as he passed with a startled cry
+and a quick fluttering of brown wings.
+
+He tried to keep his mind fixed upon the devout meditations proper to
+the eve of Good Friday. But thoughts of Montanelli and Gemma got so
+much in the way of this devotional exercise that at last he gave up the
+attempt and allowed his fancy to drift away to the wonders and glories
+of the coming insurrection, and to the part in it that he had allotted
+to his two idols. The Padre was to be the leader, the apostle, the
+prophet before whose sacred wrath the powers of darkness were to flee,
+and at whose feet the young defenders of Liberty were to learn
+afresh the old doctrines, the old truths in their new and unimagined
+significance.
+
+And Gemma? Oh, Gemma would fight at the barricades. She was made of the
+clay from which heroines are moulded; she would be the perfect comrade,
+the maiden undefiled and unafraid, of whom so many poets have dreamed.
+She would stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, rejoicing under the
+winged death-storm; and they would die together, perhaps in the moment
+of victory--without doubt there would be a victory. Of his love he would
+tell her nothing; he would say no word that might disturb her peace or
+spoil her tranquil sense of comradeship. She was to him a holy thing,
+a spotless victim to be laid upon the altar as a burnt-offering for the
+deliverance of the people; and who was he that he should enter into the
+white sanctuary of a soul that knew no other love than God and Italy?
+
+God and Italy----Then came a sudden drop from the clouds as he entered
+the great, dreary house in the "Street of Palaces," and Julia's butler,
+immaculate, calm, and politely disapproving as ever, confronted him upon
+the stairs.
+
+"Good-evening, Gibbons; are my brothers in?"
+
+"Mr. Thomas is in, sir; and Mrs. Burton. They are in the drawing room."
+
+Arthur went in with a dull sense of oppression. What a dismal house
+it was! The flood of life seemed to roll past and leave it always just
+above high-water mark. Nothing in it ever changed--neither the people,
+nor the family portraits, nor the heavy furniture and ugly plate, nor
+the vulgar ostentation of riches, nor the lifeless aspect of everything.
+Even the flowers on the brass stands looked like painted metal flowers
+that had never known the stirring of young sap within them in the warm
+spring days. Julia, dressed for dinner, and waiting for visitors in the
+drawing room which was to her the centre of existence, might have sat
+for a fashion-plate just as she was, with her wooden smile and flaxen
+ringlets, and the lap-dog on her knee.
+
+"How do you do, Arthur?" she said stiffly, giving him the tips of her
+fingers for a moment, and then transferring them to the more congenial
+contact of the lap-dog's silken coat. "I hope you are quite well and
+have made satisfactory progress at college."
+
+Arthur murmured the first commonplace that he could think of at the
+moment, and relapsed into uncomfortable silence. The arrival of
+James, in his most pompous mood and accompanied by a stiff, elderly
+shipping-agent, did not improve matters; and when Gibbons announced that
+dinner was served, Arthur rose with a little sigh of relief.
+
+"I won't come to dinner, Julia. If you'll excuse me I will go to my
+room."
+
+"You're overdoing that fasting, my boy," said Thomas; "I am sure you'll
+make yourself ill."
+
+"Oh, no! Good-night."
+
+In the corridor Arthur met the under housemaid and asked her to knock at
+his door at six in the morning.
+
+"The signorino is going to church?"
+
+"Yes. Good-night, Teresa."
+
+He went into his room. It had belonged to his mother, and the alcove
+opposite the window had been fitted up during her long illness as an
+oratory. A great crucifix on a black pedestal occupied the middle of the
+altar; and before it hung a little Roman lamp. This was the room where
+she had died. Her portrait was on the wall beside the bed; and on the
+table stood a china bowl which had been hers, filled with a great bunch
+of her favourite violets. It was just a year since her death; and the
+Italian servants had not forgotten her.
+
+He took out of his portmanteau a framed picture, carefully wrapped up.
+It was a crayon portrait of Montanelli, which had come from Rome only a
+few days before. He was unwrapping this precious treasure when Julia's
+page brought in a supper-tray on which the old Italian cook, who had
+served Gladys before the harsh, new mistress came, had placed such
+little delicacies as she considered her dear signorino might permit
+himself to eat without infringing the rules of the Church. Arthur
+refused everything but a piece of bread; and the page, a nephew of
+Gibbons, lately arrived from England, grinned significantly as he
+carried out the tray. He had already joined the Protestant camp in the
+servants' hall.
+
+Arthur went into the alcove and knelt down before the crucifix, trying
+to compose his mind to the proper attitude for prayer and meditation.
+But this he found difficult to accomplish. He had, as Thomas said,
+rather overdone the Lenten privations, and they had gone to his head
+like strong wine. Little quivers of excitement went down his back, and
+the crucifix swam in a misty cloud before his eyes. It was only after a
+long litany, mechanically repeated, that he succeeded in recalling his
+wandering imagination to the mystery of the Atonement. At last sheer
+physical weariness conquered the feverish agitation of his nerves, and
+he lay down to sleep in a calm and peaceful mood, free from all unquiet
+or disturbing thoughts.
+
+He was fast asleep when a sharp, impatient knock came at his door. "Ah,
+Teresa!" he thought, turning over lazily. The knock was repeated, and he
+awoke with a violent start.
+
+"Signorino! signorino!" cried a man's voice in Italian; "get up for the
+love of God!"
+
+Arthur jumped out of bed.
+
+"What is the matter? Who is it?"
+
+"It's I, Gian Battista. Get up, quick, for Our Lady's sake!"
+
+Arthur hurriedly dressed and opened the door. As he stared in perplexity
+at the coachman's pale, terrified face, the sound of tramping feet and
+clanking metal came along the corridor, and he suddenly realized the
+truth.
+
+"For me?" he asked coolly.
+
+"For you! Oh, signorino, make haste! What have you to hide? See, I can
+put----"
+
+"I have nothing to hide. Do my brothers know?"
+
+The first uniform appeared at the turn of the passage.
+
+"The signor has been called; all the house is awake. Alas! what a
+misfortune--what a terrible misfortune! And on Good Friday! Holy Saints,
+have pity!"
+
+Gian Battista burst into tears. Arthur moved a few steps forward and
+waited for the gendarmes, who came clattering along, followed by a
+shivering crowd of servants in various impromptu costumes. As the
+soldiers surrounded Arthur, the master and mistress of the house
+brought up the rear of this strange procession; he in dressing gown and
+slippers, she in a long peignoir, with her hair in curlpapers.
+
+"There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to
+the ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts!"
+
+The quotation flashed across Arthur's mind as he looked at the
+grotesque figures. He checked a laugh with a sense of its jarring
+incongruity--this was a time for worthier thoughts. "Ave Maria, Regina
+Coeli!" he whispered, and turned his eyes away, that the bobbing of
+Julia's curlpapers might not again tempt him to levity.
+
+"Kindly explain to me," said Mr. Burton, approaching the officer of
+gendarmerie, "what is the meaning of this violent intrusion into a
+private house? I warn you that, unless you are prepared to furnish me
+with a satisfactory explanation, I shall feel bound to complain to the
+English Ambassador."
+
+"I presume," replied the officer stiffly, "that you will recognize this
+as a sufficient explanation; the English Ambassador certainly will."
+He pulled out a warrant for the arrest of Arthur Burton, student of
+philosophy, and, handing it to James, added coldly: "If you wish for
+any further explanation, you had better apply in person to the chief of
+police."
+
+Julia snatched the paper from her husband, glanced over it, and flew at
+Arthur like nothing else in the world but a fashionable lady in a rage.
+
+"So it's you that have disgraced the family!" she screamed; "setting all
+the rabble in the town gaping and staring as if the thing were a show?
+So you have turned jail-bird, now, with all your piety! It's what we
+might have expected from that Popish woman's child----"
+
+"You must not speak to a prisoner in a foreign language, madam," the
+officer interrupted; but his remonstrance was hardly audible under the
+torrent of Julia's vociferous English.
+
+"Just what we might have expected! Fasting and prayer and saintly
+meditation; and this is what was underneath it all! I thought that would
+be the end of it."
+
+Dr. Warren had once compared Julia to a salad into which the cook had
+upset the vinegar cruet. The sound of her thin, hard voice set Arthur's
+teeth on edge, and the simile suddenly popped up in his memory.
+
+"There's no use in this kind of talk," he said. "You need not be afraid
+of any unpleasantness; everyone will understand that you are all quite
+innocent. I suppose, gentlemen, you want to search my things. I have
+nothing to hide."
+
+While the gendarmes ransacked the room, reading his letters, examining
+his college papers, and turning out drawers and boxes, he sat waiting
+on the edge of the bed, a little flushed with excitement, but in no
+way distressed. The search did not disquiet him. He had always burned
+letters which could possibly compromise anyone, and beyond a few
+manuscript verses, half revolutionary, half mystical, and two or three
+numbers of Young Italy, the gendarmes found nothing to repay them for
+their trouble. Julia, after a long resistance, yielded to the entreaties
+of her brother-in-law and went back to bed, sweeping past Arthur with
+magnificent disdain, James meekly following.
+
+When they had left the room, Thomas, who all this while had been
+tramping up and down, trying to look indifferent, approached the officer
+and asked permission to speak to the prisoner. Receiving a nod in
+answer, he went up to Arthur and muttered in a rather husky voice:
+
+"I say; this is an infernally awkward business. I'm very sorry about
+it."
+
+Arthur looked up with a face as serene as a summer morning. "You have
+always been good to me," he said. "There's nothing to be sorry about. I
+shall be safe enough."
+
+"Look here, Arthur!" Thomas gave his moustache a hard pull and plunged
+head first into the awkward question. "Is--all this anything to do
+with--money? Because, if it is, I----"
+
+"With money! Why, no! What could it have to do----"
+
+"Then it's some political tomfoolery? I thought so. Well, don't you get
+down in the mouth--and never mind all the stuff Julia talks. It's only
+her spiteful tongue; and if you want help,--cash, or anything,--let me
+know, will you?"
+
+Arthur held out his hand in silence, and Thomas left the room with a
+carefully made-up expression of unconcern that rendered his face more
+stolid than ever.
+
+The gendarmes, meanwhile, had finished their search, and the officer in
+charge requested Arthur to put on his outdoor clothes. He obeyed at once
+and turned to leave the room; then stopped with sudden hesitation. It
+seemed hard to take leave of his mother's oratory in the presence of
+these officials.
+
+"Have you any objection to leaving the room for a moment?" he asked.
+"You see that I cannot escape and that there is nothing to conceal."
+
+"I am sorry, but it is forbidden to leave a prisoner alone."
+
+"Very well, it doesn't matter."
+
+He went into the alcove, and, kneeling down, kissed the feet and
+pedestal of the crucifix, whispering softly: "Lord, keep me faithful
+unto death."
+
+When he rose, the officer was standing by the table, examining
+Montanelli's portrait. "Is this a relative of yours?" he asked.
+
+"No; it is my confessor, the new Bishop of Brisighella."
+
+On the staircase the Italian servants were waiting, anxious and
+sorrowful. They all loved Arthur for his own sake and his mother's, and
+crowded round him, kissing his hands and dress with passionate grief.
+Gian Battista stood by, the tears dripping down his gray moustache. None
+of the Burtons came out to take leave of him. Their coldness accentuated
+the tenderness and sympathy of the servants, and Arthur was near to
+breaking down as he pressed the hands held out to him.
+
+"Good-bye, Gian Battista. Kiss the little ones for me. Good-bye, Teresa.
+Pray for me, all of you; and God keep you! Good-bye, good-bye!"
+
+He ran hastily downstairs to the front door. A moment later only a
+little group of silent men and sobbing women stood on the doorstep
+watching the carriage as it drove away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ARTHUR was taken to the huge mediaeval fortress at the harbour's mouth.
+He found prison life fairly endurable. His cell was unpleasantly damp
+and dark; but he had been brought up in a palace in the Via Borra, and
+neither close air, rats, nor foul smells were novelties to him. The
+food, also, was both bad and insufficient; but James soon obtained
+permission to send him all the necessaries of life from home. He was
+kept in solitary confinement, and, though the vigilance of the
+warders was less strict than he had expected, he failed to obtain any
+explanation of the cause of his arrest. Nevertheless, the tranquil frame
+of mind in which he had entered the fortress did not change. Not being
+allowed books, he spent his time in prayer and devout meditation, and
+waited without impatience or anxiety for the further course of events.
+
+One day a soldier unlocked the door of his cell and called to him: "This
+way, please!" After two or three questions, to which he got no answer
+but, "Talking is forbidden," Arthur resigned himself to the inevitable
+and followed the soldier through a labyrinth of courtyards, corridors,
+and stairs, all more or less musty-smelling, into a large, light room in
+which three persons in military uniform sat at a long table covered with
+green baize and littered with papers, chatting in a languid, desultory
+way. They put on a stiff, business air as he came in, and the oldest of
+them, a foppish-looking man with gray whiskers and a colonel's uniform,
+pointed to a chair on the other side of the table and began the
+preliminary interrogation.
+
+Arthur had expected to be threatened, abused, and sworn at, and had
+prepared himself to answer with dignity and patience; but he was
+pleasantly disappointed. The colonel was stiff, cold and formal,
+but perfectly courteous. The usual questions as to his name, age,
+nationality, and social position were put and answered, and the replies
+written down in monotonous succession. He was beginning to feel bored
+and impatient, when the colonel asked:
+
+"And now, Mr. Burton, what do you know about Young Italy?"
+
+"I know that it is a society which publishes a newspaper in Marseilles
+and circulates it in Italy, with the object of inducing people to revolt
+and drive the Austrian army out of the country."
+
+"You have read this paper, I think?"
+
+"Yes; I am interested in the subject."
+
+"When you read it you realized that you were committing an illegal
+action?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Where did you get the copies which were found in your room?"
+
+"That I cannot tell you."
+
+"Mr. Burton, you must not say 'I cannot tell' here; you are bound to
+answer my questions."
+
+"I will not, then, if you object to 'cannot.'"
+
+"You will regret it if you permit yourself to use such expressions,"
+remarked the colonel. As Arthur made no reply, he went on:
+
+"I may as well tell you that evidence has come into our hands proving
+your connection with this society to be much more intimate than is
+implied by the mere reading of forbidden literature. It will be to your
+advantage to confess frankly. In any case the truth will be sure to come
+out, and you will find it useless to screen yourself behind evasion and
+denials."
+
+"I have no desire to screen myself. What is it you want to know?"
+
+"Firstly, how did you, a foreigner, come to be implicated in matters of
+this kind?"
+
+"I thought about the subject and read everything I could get hold of,
+and formed my own conclusions."
+
+"Who persuaded you to join this society?"
+
+"No one; I wished to join it."
+
+"You are shilly-shallying with me," said the colonel, sharply; his
+patience was evidently beginning to give out. "No one can join a society
+by himself. To whom did you communicate your wish to join it?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Will you have the kindness to answer me?"
+
+"Not when you ask questions of that kind."
+
+Arthur spoke sullenly; a curious, nervous irritability was taking
+possession of him. He knew by this time that many arrests had been made
+in both Leghorn and Pisa; and, though still ignorant of the extent of
+the calamity, he had already heard enough to put him into a fever of
+anxiety for the safety of Gemma and his other friends. The studied
+politeness of the officers, the dull game of fencing and parrying, of
+insidious questions and evasive answers, worried and annoyed him, and
+the clumsy tramping backward and forward of the sentinel outside the
+door jarred detestably upon his ear.
+
+"Oh, by the bye, when did you last meet Giovanni Bolla?" asked the
+colonel, after a little more bandying of words. "Just before you left
+Pisa, was it?"
+
+"I know no one of that name."
+
+"What! Giovanni Bolla? Surely you know him--a tall young fellow, closely
+shaven. Why, he is one of your fellow-students."
+
+"There are many students in the university whom I don't know."
+
+"Oh, but you must know Bolla, surely! Look, this is his handwriting. You
+see, he knows you well enough."
+
+The colonel carelessly handed him a paper headed: "Protocol," and
+signed: "Giovanni Bolla." Glancing down it Arthur came upon his own
+name. He looked up in surprise. "Am I to read it?"
+
+"Yes, you may as well; it concerns you."
+
+He began to read, while the officers sat silently watching his face. The
+document appeared to consist of depositions in answer to a long string
+of questions. Evidently Bolla, too, must have been arrested. The first
+depositions were of the usual stereotyped character; then followed
+a short account of Bolla's connection with the society, of the
+dissemination of prohibited literature in Leghorn, and of the students'
+meetings. Next came "Among those who joined us was a young Englishman,
+Arthur Burton, who belongs to one of the rich shipowning families."
+
+The blood rushed into Arthur's face. Bolla had betrayed him! Bolla, who
+had taken upon himself the solemn duties of an initiator--Bolla, who had
+converted Gemma--who was in love with her! He laid down the paper and
+stared at the floor.
+
+"I hope that little document has refreshed your memory?" hinted the
+colonel politely.
+
+Arthur shook his head. "I know no one of that name," he repeated in a
+dull, hard voice. "There must be some mistake."
+
+"Mistake? Oh, nonsense! Come, Mr. Burton, chivalry and quixotism are
+very fine things in their way; but there's no use in overdoing them.
+It's an error all you young people fall into at first. Come, think! What
+good is it for you to compromise yourself and spoil your prospects in
+life over a simple formality about a man that has betrayed you? You see
+yourself, he wasn't so particular as to what he said about you."
+
+A faint shade of something like mockery had crept into the colonel's
+voice. Arthur looked up with a start; a sudden light flashed upon his
+mind.
+
+"It's a lie!" he cried out. "It's a forgery! I can see it in your face,
+you cowardly----You've got some prisoner there you want to compromise,
+or a trap you want to drag me into. You are a forger, and a liar, and a
+scoundrel----"
+
+"Silence!" shouted the colonel, starting up in a rage; his two
+colleagues were already on their feet. "Captain Tommasi," he went on,
+turning to one of them, "ring for the guard, if you please, and have
+this young gentleman put in the punishment cell for a few days. He wants
+a lesson, I see, to bring him to reason."
+
+The punishment cell was a dark, damp, filthy hole under ground. Instead
+of bringing Arthur "to reason," it thoroughly exasperated him. His
+luxurious home had rendered him daintily fastidious about personal
+cleanliness, and the first effect of the slimy, vermin-covered walls,
+the floor heaped with accumulations of filth and garbage, the fearful
+stench of fungi and sewage and rotting wood, was strong enough to have
+satisfied the offended officer. When he was pushed in and the door
+locked behind him he took three cautious steps forward with outstretched
+hands, shuddering with disgust as his fingers came into contact with
+the slippery wall, and groped in the dense blackness for some spot less
+filthy than the rest in which to sit down.
+
+The long day passed in unbroken blackness and silence, and the night
+brought no change. In the utter void and absence of all external
+impressions, he gradually lost the consciousness of time; and when,
+on the following morning, a key was turned in the door lock, and the
+frightened rats scurried past him squeaking, he started up in a sudden
+panic, his heart throbbing furiously and a roaring noise in his ears, as
+though he had been shut away from light and sound for months instead of
+hours.
+
+The door opened, letting in a feeble lantern gleam--a flood of blinding
+light, it seemed to him--and the head warder entered, carrying a piece
+of bread and a mug of water. Arthur made a step forward; he was quite
+convinced that the man had come to let him out. Before he had time to
+speak, the warder put the bread and mug into his hands, turned round and
+went away without a word, locking the door again.
+
+Arthur stamped his foot upon the ground. For the first time in his life
+he was savagely angry. But as the hours went by, the consciousness of
+time and place gradually slipped further and further away. The blackness
+seemed an illimitable thing, with no beginning and no end, and life had,
+as it were, stopped for him. On the evening of the third day, when the
+door was opened and the head warder appeared on the threshold with a
+soldier, he looked up, dazed and bewildered, shading his eyes from the
+unaccustomed light, and vaguely wondering how many hours or weeks he had
+been in this grave.
+
+"This way, please," said the cool business voice of the warder. Arthur
+rose and moved forward mechanically, with a strange unsteadiness,
+swaying and stumbling like a drunkard. He resented the warder's attempt
+to help him up the steep, narrow steps leading to the courtyard; but as
+he reached the highest step a sudden giddiness came over him, so that he
+staggered and would have fallen backwards had the warder not caught him
+by the shoulder.
+
+   *****
+
+"There, he'll be all right now," said a cheerful voice; "they most of
+them go off this way coming out into the air."
+
+Arthur struggled desperately for breath as another handful of water
+was dashed into his face. The blackness seemed to fall away from him
+in pieces with a rushing noise; then he woke suddenly into full
+consciousness, and, pushing aside the warder's arm, walked along the
+corridor and up the stairs almost steadily. They stopped for a moment in
+front of a door; then it opened, and before he realized where they were
+taking him he was in the brightly lighted interrogation room, staring in
+confused wonder at the table and the papers and the officers sitting in
+their accustomed places.
+
+"Ah, it's Mr. Burton!" said the colonel. "I hope we shall be able to
+talk more comfortably now. Well, and how do you like the dark cell? Not
+quite so luxurious as your brother's drawing room, is it? eh?"
+
+Arthur raised his eyes to the colonel's smiling face. He was seized by
+a frantic desire to spring at the throat of this gray-whiskered fop and
+tear it with his teeth. Probably something of this kind was visible in
+his face, for the colonel added immediately, in a quite different tone:
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Burton, and drink some water; you are excited."
+
+Arthur pushed aside the glass of water held out to him; and, leaning his
+arms on the table, rested his forehead on one hand and tried to
+collect his thoughts. The colonel sat watching him keenly, noting with
+experienced eyes the unsteady hands and lips, the hair dripping with
+water, the dim gaze that told of physical prostration and disordered
+nerves.
+
+"Now, Mr. Burton," he said after a few minutes; "we will start at the
+point where we left off; and as there has been a certain amount of
+unpleasantness between us, I may as well begin by saying that I, for my
+part, have no desire to be anything but indulgent with you. If you will
+behave properly and reasonably, I assure you that we shall not treat you
+with any unnecessary harshness."
+
+"What do you want me to do?"
+
+Arthur spoke in a hard, sullen voice, quite different from his natural
+tone.
+
+"I only want you to tell us frankly, in a straightforward and honourable
+manner, what you know of this society and its adherents. First of all,
+how long have you known Bolla?"
+
+"I never met him in my life. I know nothing whatever about him."
+
+"Really? Well, we will return to that subject presently. I think you
+know a young man named Carlo Bini?"
+
+"I never heard of such a person."
+
+"That is very extraordinary. What about Francesco Neri?"
+
+"I never heard the name."
+
+"But here is a letter in your handwriting, addressed to him. Look!"
+
+Arthur glanced carelessly at the letter and laid it aside.
+
+"Do you recognize that letter?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You deny that it is in your writing?"
+
+"I deny nothing. I have no recollection of it."
+
+"Perhaps you remember this one?"
+
+A second letter was handed to him, and he saw that it was one which he
+had written in the autumn to a fellow-student.
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor the person to whom it is addressed?"
+
+"Nor the person."
+
+"Your memory is singularly short."
+
+"It is a defect from which I have always suffered."
+
+"Indeed! And I heard the other day from a university professor that you
+are considered by no means deficient; rather clever in fact."
+
+"You probably judge of cleverness by the police-spy standard; university
+professors use words in a different sense."
+
+The note of rising irritation was plainly audible in Arthur's voice. He
+was physically exhausted with hunger, foul air, and want of sleep; every
+bone in his body seemed to ache separately; and the colonel's voice
+grated on his exasperated nerves, setting his teeth on edge like the
+squeak of a slate pencil.
+
+"Mr. Burton," said the colonel, leaning back in his chair and speaking
+gravely, "you are again forgetting yourself; and I warn you once more
+that this kind of talk will do you no good. Surely you have had enough
+of the dark cell not to want any more just for the present. I tell you
+plainly that I shall use strong measures with you if you persist in
+repulsing gentle ones. Mind, I have proof--positive proof--that some
+of these young men have been engaged in smuggling prohibited literature
+into this port; and that you have been in communication with them. Now,
+are you going to tell me, without compulsion, what you know about this
+affair?"
+
+Arthur bent his head lower. A blind, senseless, wild-beast fury was
+beginning to stir within him like a live thing. The possibility of
+losing command over himself was more appalling to him than any threats.
+For the first time he began to realize what latent potentialities may
+lie hidden beneath the culture of any gentleman and the piety of any
+Christian; and the terror of himself was strong upon him.
+
+"I am waiting for your answer," said the colonel.
+
+"I have no answer to give."
+
+"You positively refuse to answer?"
+
+"I will tell you nothing at all."
+
+"Then I must simply order you back into the punishment cell, and keep
+you there till you change your mind. If there is much more trouble with
+you, I shall put you in irons."
+
+Arthur looked up, trembling from head to foot. "You will do as you
+please," he said slowly; "and whether the English Ambassador will stand
+your playing tricks of that kind with a British subject who has not been
+convicted of any crime is for him to decide."
+
+At last Arthur was conducted back to his own cell, where he flung
+himself down upon the bed and slept till the next morning. He was not
+put in irons, and saw no more of the dreaded dark cell; but the
+feud between him and the colonel grew more inveterate with every
+interrogation. It was quite useless for Arthur to pray in his cell for
+grace to conquer his evil passions, or to meditate half the night long
+upon the patience and meekness of Christ. No sooner was he brought again
+into the long, bare room with its baize-covered table, and confronted
+with the colonel's waxed moustache, than the unchristian spirit would
+take possession of him once more, suggesting bitter repartees and
+contemptuous answers. Before he had been a month in the prison the
+mutual irritation had reached such a height that he and the colonel
+could not see each other's faces without losing their temper.
+
+The continual strain of this petty warfare was beginning to tell heavily
+upon his nerves. Knowing how closely he was watched, and remembering
+certain dreadful rumours which he had heard of prisoners secretly
+drugged with belladonna that notes might be taken of their ravings, he
+gradually became afraid to sleep or eat; and if a mouse ran past him in
+the night, would start up drenched with cold sweat and quivering with
+terror, fancying that someone was hiding in the room to listen if he
+talked in his sleep. The gendarmes were evidently trying to entrap him
+into making some admission which might compromise Bolla; and so great
+was his fear of slipping, by any inadvertency, into a pitfall, that he
+was really in danger of doing so through sheer nervousness. Bolla's name
+rang in his ears night and day, interfering even with his devotions, and
+forcing its way in among the beads of the rosary instead of the name of
+Mary. But the worst thing of all was that his religion, like the outer
+world, seemed to be slipping away from him as the days went by. To this
+last foothold he clung with feverish tenacity, spending several hours
+of each day in prayer and meditation; but his thoughts wandered more and
+more often to Bolla, and the prayers were growing terribly mechanical.
+
+His greatest comfort was the head warder of the prison. This was a
+little old man, fat and bald, who at first had tried his hardest to wear
+a severe expression. Gradually the good nature which peeped out of every
+dimple in his chubby face conquered his official scruples, and he began
+carrying messages for the prisoners from cell to cell.
+
+One afternoon in the middle of May this warder came into the cell with a
+face so scowling and gloomy that Arthur looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"Why, Enrico!" he exclaimed; "what on earth is wrong with you to-day?"
+
+"Nothing," said Enrico snappishly; and, going up to the pallet, he began
+pulling off the rug, which was Arthur's property.
+
+"What do you want with my things? Am I to be moved into another cell?"
+
+"No; you're to be let out."
+
+"Let out? What--to-day? For altogether? Enrico!"
+
+In his excitement Arthur had caught hold of the old man's arm. It was
+angrily wrenched away.
+
+"Enrico! What has come to you? Why don't you answer? Are we all going to
+be let out?"
+
+A contemptuous grunt was the only reply.
+
+"Look here!" Arthur again took hold of the warder's arm, laughing.
+"It is no use for you to be cross to me, because I'm not going to get
+offended. I want to know about the others."
+
+"Which others?" growled Enrico, suddenly laying down the shirt he was
+folding. "Not Bolla, I suppose?"
+
+"Bolla and all the rest, of course. Enrico, what is the matter with
+you?"
+
+"Well, he's not likely to be let out in a hurry, poor lad, when a
+comrade has betrayed him. Ugh!" Enrico took up the shirt again in
+disgust.
+
+"Betrayed him? A comrade? Oh, how dreadful!" Arthur's eyes dilated with
+horror. Enrico turned quickly round.
+
+"Why, wasn't it you?"
+
+"I? Are you off your head, man? I?"
+
+"Well, they told him so yesterday at interrogation, anyhow. I'm very
+glad if it wasn't you, for I always thought you were rather a decent
+young fellow. This way!" Enrico stepped out into the corridor and Arthur
+followed him, a light breaking in upon the confusion of his mind.
+
+"They told Bolla I'd betrayed him? Of course they did! Why, man, they
+told me he had betrayed me. Surely Bolla isn't fool enough to believe
+that sort of stuff?"
+
+"Then it really isn't true?" Enrico stopped at the foot of the stairs
+and looked searchingly at Arthur, who merely shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Of course it's a lie."
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear it, my lad, and I'll tell him you said so. But
+you see what they told him was that you had denounced him out of--well,
+out of jealousy, because of your both being sweet on the same girl."
+
+"It's a lie!" Arthur repeated the words in a quick, breathless whisper.
+A sudden, paralyzing fear had come over him. "The same girl--jealousy!"
+How could they know--how could they know?
+
+"Wait a minute, my lad." Enrico stopped in the corridor leading to the
+interrogation room, and spoke softly. "I believe you; but just tell me
+one thing. I know you're a Catholic; did you ever say anything in the
+confessional------"
+
+"It's a lie!" This time Arthur's voice had risen to a stifled cry.
+
+Enrico shrugged his shoulders and moved on again. "You know best, of
+course; but you wouldn't be the only young fool that's been taken in
+that way. There's a tremendous ado just now about a priest in Pisa that
+some of your friends have found out. They've printed a leaflet saying
+he's a spy."
+
+He opened the door of the interrogation room, and, seeing that Arthur
+stood motionless, staring blankly before him, pushed him gently across
+the threshold.
+
+"Good-afternoon, Mr. Burton," said the colonel, smiling and showing his
+teeth amiably. "I have great pleasure in congratulating you. An order
+for your release has arrived from Florence. Will you kindly sign this
+paper?"
+
+Arthur went up to him. "I want to know," he said in a dull voice, "who
+it was that betrayed me."
+
+The colonel raised his eyebrows with a smile.
+
+"Can't you guess? Think a minute."
+
+Arthur shook his head. The colonel put out both hands with a gesture of
+polite surprise.
+
+"Can't guess? Really? Why, you yourself, Mr. Burton. Who else could know
+your private love affairs?"
+
+Arthur turned away in silence. On the wall hung a large wooden crucifix;
+and his eyes wandered slowly to its face; but with no appeal in them,
+only a dim wonder at this supine and patient God that had no thunderbolt
+for a priest who betrayed the confessional.
+
+"Will you kindly sign this receipt for your papers?" said the colonel
+blandly; "and then I need not keep you any longer. I am sure you must be
+in a hurry to get home; and my time is very much taken up just now with
+the affairs of that foolish young man, Bolla, who tried your Christian
+forbearance so hard. I am afraid he will get a rather heavy sentence.
+Good-afternoon!"
+
+Arthur signed the receipt, took his papers, and went out in dead
+silence. He followed Enrico to the massive gate; and, without a word of
+farewell, descended to the water's edge, where a ferryman was waiting to
+take him across the moat. As he mounted the stone steps leading to
+the street, a girl in a cotton dress and straw hat ran up to him with
+outstretched hands.
+
+"Arthur! Oh, I'm so glad--I'm so glad!"
+
+He drew his hands away, shivering.
+
+"Jim!" he said at last, in a voice that did not seem to belong to him.
+"Jim!"
+
+"I've been waiting here for half an hour. They said you would come
+out at four. Arthur, why do you look at me like that? Something has
+happened! Arthur, what has come to you? Stop!"
+
+He had turned away, and was walking slowly down the street, as if he
+had forgotten her presence. Thoroughly frightened at his manner, she ran
+after him and caught him by the arm.
+
+"Arthur!"
+
+He stopped and looked up with bewildered eyes. She slipped her arm
+through his, and they walked on again for a moment in silence.
+
+"Listen, dear," she began softly; "you mustn't get so upset over this
+wretched business. I know it's dreadfully hard on you, but everybody
+understands."
+
+"What business?" he asked in the same dull voice.
+
+"I mean, about Bolla's letter."
+
+Arthur's face contracted painfully at the name.
+
+"I thought you wouldn't have heard of it," Gemma went on; "but I suppose
+they've told you. Bolla must be perfectly mad to have imagined such a
+thing."
+
+"Such a thing----?"
+
+"You don't know about it, then? He has written a horrible letter,
+saying that you have told about the steamers, and got him arrested. It's
+perfectly absurd, of course; everyone that knows you sees that; it's
+only the people who don't know you that have been upset by it. Really,
+that's what I came here for--to tell you that no one in our group
+believes a word of it."
+
+"Gemma! But it's--it's true!"
+
+She shrank slowly away from him, and stood quite still, her eyes wide
+and dark with horror, her face as white as the kerchief at her neck. A
+great icy wave of silence seemed to have swept round them both, shutting
+them out, in a world apart, from the life and movement of the street.
+
+"Yes," he whispered at last; "the steamers--I spoke of that; and I said
+his name--oh, my God! my God! What shall I do?"
+
+He came to himself suddenly, realizing her presence and the mortal
+terror in her face. Yes, of course, she must think------
+
+"Gemma, you don't understand!" he burst out, moving nearer; but she
+recoiled with a sharp cry:
+
+"Don't touch me!"
+
+Arthur seized her right hand with sudden violence.
+
+"Listen, for God's sake! It was not my fault; I----"
+
+"Let go; let my hand go! Let go!"
+
+The next instant she wrenched her fingers away from his, and struck him
+across the cheek with her open hand.
+
+A kind of mist came over his eyes. For a little while he was conscious
+of nothing but Gemma's white and desperate face, and the right hand
+which she had fiercely rubbed on the skirt of her cotton dress. Then
+the daylight crept back again, and he looked round and saw that he was
+alone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IT had long been dark when Arthur rang at the front door of the great
+house in the Via Borra. He remembered that he had been wandering about
+the streets; but where, or why, or for how long, he had no idea. Julia's
+page opened the door, yawning, and grinned significantly at the haggard,
+stony face. It seemed to him a prodigious joke to have the young master
+come home from jail like a "drunk and disorderly" beggar. Arthur went
+upstairs. On the first floor he met Gibbons coming down with an air of
+lofty and solemn disapproval. He tried to pass with a muttered "Good
+evening"; but Gibbons was no easy person to get past against his will.
+
+"The gentlemen are out, sir," he said, looking critically at Arthur's
+rather neglected dress and hair. "They have gone with the mistress to an
+evening party, and will not be back till nearly twelve."
+
+Arthur looked at his watch; it was nine o'clock. Oh, yes! he would have
+time--plenty of time------
+
+"My mistress desired me to ask whether you would like any supper, sir;
+and to say that she hopes you will sit up for her, as she particularly
+wishes to speak to you this evening."
+
+"I don't want anything, thank you; you can tell her I have not gone to
+bed."
+
+He went up to his room. Nothing in it had been changed since his arrest;
+Montanelli's portrait was on the table where he had placed it, and
+the crucifix stood in the alcove as before. He paused a moment on the
+threshold, listening; but the house was quite still; evidently no one
+was coming to disturb him. He stepped softly into the room and locked
+the door.
+
+And so he had come to the end. There was nothing to think or trouble
+about; an importunate and useless consciousness to get rid of--and
+nothing more. It seemed a stupid, aimless kind of thing, somehow.
+
+He had not formed any resolve to commit suicide, nor indeed had he
+thought much about it; the thing was quite obvious and inevitable. He
+had even no definite idea as to what manner of death to choose; all that
+mattered was to be done with it quickly--to have it over and forget. He
+had no weapon in the room, not even a pocketknife; but that was of no
+consequence--a towel would do, or a sheet torn into strips.
+
+There was a large nail just over the window. That would do; but it must
+be firm to bear his weight. He got up on a chair to feel the nail; it
+was not quite firm, and he stepped down again and took a hammer from a
+drawer. He knocked in the nail, and was about to pull a sheet off his
+bed, when he suddenly remembered that he had not said his prayers. Of
+course, one must pray before dying; every Christian does that. There are
+even special prayers for a departing soul.
+
+He went into the alcove and knelt down before the crucifix. "Almighty
+and merciful God----" he began aloud; and with that broke off and said
+no more. Indeed, the world was grown so dull that there was nothing left
+to pray for--or against. And then, what did Christ know about a trouble
+of this kind--Christ, who had never suffered it? He had only been
+betrayed, like Bolla; He had never been tricked into betraying.
+
+Arthur rose, crossing himself from old habit. Approaching the table,
+he saw lying upon it a letter addressed to him, in Montanelli's
+handwriting. It was in pencil:
+
+
+"My Dear Boy: It is a great disappointment to me that I cannot see you
+on the day of your release; but I have been sent for to visit a dying
+man. I shall not get back till late at night. Come to me early to-morrow
+morning. In great haste,
+
+"L. M."
+
+
+He put down the letter with a sigh; it did seem hard on the Padre.
+
+How the people had laughed and gossiped in the streets! Nothing was
+altered since the days when he had been alive. Not the least little one
+of all the daily trifles round him was changed because a human soul, a
+living human soul, had been struck down dead. It was all just the same
+as before. The water had plashed in the fountains; the sparrows had
+twittered under the eaves; just as they had done yesterday, just as they
+would do to-morrow. And as for him, he was dead--quite dead.
+
+He sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed his arms along the
+foot-rail, and rested his forehead upon them. There was plenty of time;
+and his head ached so--the very middle of the brain seemed to ache; it
+was all so dull and stupid--so utterly meaningless----
+
+    *****
+
+The front-door bell rang sharply, and he started up in a breathless
+agony of terror, with both hands at his throat. They had come back--he
+had sat there dreaming, and let the precious time slip away--and now
+he must see their faces and hear their cruel tongues--their sneers and
+comments--If only he had a knife------
+
+He looked desperately round the room. His mother's work-basket stood
+in a little cupboard; surely there would be scissors; he might sever an
+artery. No; the sheet and nail were safer, if he had time.
+
+He dragged the counterpane from his bed, and with frantic haste began
+tearing off a strip. The sound of footsteps came up the stairs. No; the
+strip was too wide; it would not tie firmly; and there must be a noose.
+He worked faster as the footsteps drew nearer; and the blood throbbed
+in his temples and roared in his ears. Quicker--quicker! Oh, God! five
+minutes more!
+
+There was a knock at the door. The strip of torn stuff dropped from his
+hands, and he sat quite still, holding his breath to listen. The handle
+of the door was tried; then Julia's voice called:
+
+"Arthur!"
+
+He stood up, panting.
+
+"Arthur, open the door, please; we are waiting."
+
+He gathered up the torn counterpane, threw it into a drawer, and hastily
+smoothed down the bed.
+
+"Arthur!" This time it was James who called, and the door-handle was
+shaken impatiently. "Are you asleep?"
+
+Arthur looked round the room, saw that everything was hidden, and
+unlocked the door.
+
+"I should think you might at least have obeyed my express request that
+you should sit up for us, Arthur," said Julia, sweeping into the room in
+a towering passion. "You appear to think it the proper thing for us to
+dance attendance for half an hour at your door----"
+
+"Four minutes, my dear," James mildly corrected, stepping into the room
+at the end of his wife's pink satin train. "I certainly think, Arthur,
+that it would have been more--becoming if----"
+
+"What do you want?" Arthur interrupted. He was standing with his hand
+upon the door, glancing furtively from one to the other like a trapped
+animal. But James was too obtuse and Julia too angry to notice the look.
+
+Mr. Burton placed a chair for his wife and sat down, carefully pulling
+up his new trousers at the knees. "Julia and I," he began, "feel it to
+be our duty to speak to you seriously about----"
+
+"I can't listen to-night; I--I'm not well. My head aches--you must
+wait."
+
+Arthur spoke in a strange, indistinct voice, with a confused and
+rambling manner. James looked round in surprise.
+
+"Is there anything the matter with you?" he asked anxiously, suddenly
+remembering that Arthur had come from a very hotbed of infection. "I
+hope you're not sickening for anything. You look quite feverish."
+
+"Nonsense!" Julia interrupted sharply. "It's only the usual theatricals,
+because he's ashamed to face us. Come here and sit down, Arthur." Arthur
+slowly crossed the room and sat down on the bed. "Yes?" he said wearily.
+
+Mr. Burton coughed, cleared his throat, smoothed his already immaculate
+beard, and began the carefully prepared speech over again:
+
+"I feel it to be my duty--my painful duty--to speak very seriously
+to you about your extraordinary behaviour in connecting yourself
+with--a--law-breakers and incendiaries and--a--persons of disreputable
+character. I believe you to have been, perhaps, more foolish than
+depraved--a----"
+
+He paused.
+
+"Yes?" Arthur said again.
+
+"Now, I do not wish to be hard on you," James went on, softening a
+little in spite of himself before the weary hopelessness of Arthur's
+manner. "I am quite willing to believe that you have been led away by
+bad companions, and to take into account your youth and inexperience and
+the--a--a--imprudent and--a--impulsive character which you have, I fear,
+inherited from your mother."
+
+Arthur's eyes wandered slowly to his mother's portrait and back again,
+but he did not speak.
+
+"But you will, I feel sure, understand," James continued, "that it is
+quite impossible for me to keep any longer in my house a person who has
+brought public disgrace upon a name so highly respected as ours."
+
+"Yes?" Arthur repeated once more.
+
+"Well?" said Julia sharply, closing her fan with a snap and laying it
+across her knee. "Are you going to have the goodness to say anything but
+'Yes,' Arthur?"
+
+"You will do as you think best, of course," he answered slowly, without
+moving. "It doesn't matter much either way."
+
+"Doesn't--matter?" James repeated, aghast; and his wife rose with a
+laugh.
+
+"Oh, it doesn't matter, doesn't it? Well, James, I hope you understand
+now how much gratitude you may expect in that quarter. I told you what
+would come of showing charity to Papist adventuresses and their----"
+
+"Hush, hush! Never mind that, my dear!"
+
+"It's all nonsense, James; we've had more than enough of this
+sentimentality! A love-child setting himself up as a member of the
+family--it's quite time he did know what his mother was! Why should
+we be saddled with the child of a Popish priest's amourettes? There,
+then--look!"
+
+She pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of her pocket and tossed
+it across the table to Arthur. He opened it; the writing was in his
+mother's hand, and was dated four months before his birth. It was a
+confession, addressed to her husband, and with two signatures.
+
+Arthur's eyes travelled slowly down the page, past the unsteady letters
+in which her name was written, to the strong, familiar signature:
+"Lorenzo Montanelli." For a moment he stared at the writing; then,
+without a word, refolded the paper and laid it down. James rose and took
+his wife by the arm.
+
+"There, Julia, that will do. Just go downstairs now; it's late, and I
+want to talk a little business with Arthur. It won't interest you."
+
+She glanced up at her husband; then back at Arthur, who was silently
+staring at the floor.
+
+"He seems half stupid," she whispered.
+
+When she had gathered up her train and left the room, James carefully
+shut the door and went back to his chair beside the table. Arthur sat as
+before, perfectly motionless and silent.
+
+"Arthur," James began in a milder tone, now Julia was not there to hear,
+"I am very sorry that this has come out. You might just as well not have
+known it. However, all that's over; and I am pleased to see that you
+can behave with such self-control. Julia is a--a little excited; ladies
+often--anyhow, I don't want to be too hard on you."
+
+He stopped to see what effect the kindly words had produced; but Arthur
+was quite motionless.
+
+"Of course, my dear boy," James went on after a moment, "this is a
+distressing story altogether, and the best thing we can do is to hold
+our tongues about it. My father was generous enough not to divorce your
+mother when she confessed her fall to him; he only demanded that the
+man who had led her astray should leave the country at once; and, as
+you know, he went to China as a missionary. For my part, I was very much
+against your having anything to do with him when he came back; but my
+father, just at the last, consented to let him teach you, on condition
+that he never attempted to see your mother. I must, in justice,
+acknowledge that I believe they both observed that condition faithfully
+to the end. It is a very deplorable business; but----"
+
+Arthur looked up. All the life and expression had gone out of his face;
+it was like a waxen mask.
+
+"D-don't you think," he said softly, with a curious stammering
+hesitation on the words, "th-that--all this--is--v-very--funny?"
+
+"FUNNY?" James pushed his chair away from the table, and sat staring at
+him, too much petrified for anger. "Funny! Arthur, are you mad?"
+
+Arthur suddenly threw back his head, and burst into a frantic fit of
+laughing.
+
+"Arthur!" exclaimed the shipowner, rising with dignity, "I am amazed at
+your levity!"
+
+There was no answer but peal after peal of laughter, so loud and
+boisterous that even James began to doubt whether there was not
+something more the matter here than levity.
+
+"Just like a hysterical woman," he muttered, turning, with a
+contemptuous shrug of his shoulders, to tramp impatiently up and
+down the room. "Really, Arthur, you're worse than Julia; there, stop
+laughing! I can't wait about here all night."
+
+He might as well have asked the crucifix to come down from its pedestal.
+Arthur was past caring for remonstrances or exhortations; he only
+laughed, and laughed, and laughed without end.
+
+"This is absurd!" said James, stopping at last in his irritated pacing
+to and fro. "You are evidently too much excited to be reasonable
+to-night. I can't talk business with you if you're going on that way.
+Come to me to-morrow morning after breakfast. And now you had better go
+to bed. Good-night."
+
+He went out, slamming the door. "Now for the hysterics downstairs," he
+muttered as he tramped noisily away. "I suppose it'll be tears there!"
+
+    *****
+
+The frenzied laughter died on Arthur's lips. He snatched up the hammer
+from the table and flung himself upon the crucifix.
+
+With the crash that followed he came suddenly to his senses, standing
+before the empty pedestal, the hammer still in his hand, and the
+fragments of the broken image scattered on the floor about his feet.
+
+He threw down the hammer. "So easy!" he said, and turned away. "And what
+an idiot I am!"
+
+He sat down by the table, panting heavily for breath, and rested his
+forehead on both hands. Presently he rose, and, going to the wash-stand,
+poured a jugful of cold water over his head and face. He came back quite
+composed, and sat down to think.
+
+And it was for such things as these--for these false and slavish people,
+these dumb and soulless gods--that he had suffered all these tortures
+of shame and passion and despair; had made a rope to hang himself,
+forsooth, because one priest was a liar. As if they were not all liars!
+Well, all that was done with; he was wiser now. He need only shake off
+these vermin and begin life afresh.
+
+There were plenty of goods vessels in the docks; it would be an easy
+matter to stow himself away in one of them, and get across to Canada,
+Australia, Cape Colony--anywhere. It was no matter for the country, if
+only it was far enough; and, as for the life out there, he could see,
+and if it did not suit him he could try some other place.
+
+He took out his purse. Only thirty-three paoli; but his watch was a
+good one. That would help him along a bit; and in any case it was of no
+consequence--he should pull through somehow. But they would search
+for him, all these people; they would be sure to make inquiries at the
+docks. No; he must put them on a false scent--make them believe him
+dead; then he should be quite free--quite free. He laughed softly to
+himself at the thought of the Burtons searching for his corpse. What a
+farce the whole thing was!
+
+Taking a sheet of paper, he wrote the first words that occurred to him:
+
+
+"I believed in you as I believed in God. God is a thing made of clay,
+that I can smash with a hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie."
+
+
+He folded up the paper, directed it to Montanelli, and, taking another
+sheet, wrote across it: "Look for my body in Darsena." Then he put on
+his hat and went out of the room. Passing his mother's portrait, he
+looked up with a laugh and a shrug of his shoulders. She, too, had lied
+to him.
+
+He crept softly along the corridor, and, slipping back the door-bolts,
+went out on to the great, dark, echoing marble staircase. It seemed to
+yawn beneath him like a black pit as he descended.
+
+He crossed the courtyard, treading cautiously for fear of waking Gian
+Battista, who slept on the ground floor. In the wood-cellar at the back
+was a little grated window, opening on the canal and not more than four
+feet from the ground. He remembered that the rusty grating had broken
+away on one side; by pushing a little he could make an aperture wide
+enough to climb out by.
+
+The grating was strong, and he grazed his hands badly and tore the
+sleeve of his coat; but that was no matter. He looked up and down the
+street; there was no one in sight, and the canal lay black and silent,
+an ugly trench between two straight and slimy walls. The untried
+universe might prove a dismal hole, but it could hardly be more flat
+and sordid than the corner which he was leaving behind him. There was
+nothing to regret; nothing to look back upon. It had been a pestilent
+little stagnant world, full of squalid lies and clumsy cheats and
+foul-smelling ditches that were not even deep enough to drown a man.
+
+He walked along the canal bank, and came out upon the tiny square by the
+Medici palace. It was here that Gemma had run up to him with her vivid
+face, her outstretched hands. Here was the little flight of wet stone
+steps leading down to the moat; and there the fortress scowling across
+the strip of dirty water. He had never noticed before how squat and mean
+it looked.
+
+Passing through the narrow streets he reached the Darsena
+shipping-basin, where he took off his hat and flung it into the water.
+It would be found, of course, when they dragged for his body. Then he
+walked on along the water's edge, considering perplexedly what to do
+next. He must contrive to hide on some ship; but it was a difficult
+thing to do. His only chance would be to get on to the huge old
+Medici breakwater and walk along to the further end of it. There was a
+low-class tavern on the point; probably he should find some sailor there
+who could be bribed.
+
+But the dock gates were closed. How should he get past them, and past
+the customs officials? His stock of money would not furnish the high
+bribe that they would demand for letting him through at night and
+without a passport. Besides they might recognize him.
+
+As he passed the bronze statue of the "Four Moors," a man's figure
+emerged from an old house on the opposite side of the shipping basin
+and approached the bridge. Arthur slipped at once into the deep shadow
+behind the group of statuary and crouched down in the darkness, peeping
+cautiously round the corner of the pedestal.
+
+It was a soft spring night, warm and starlit. The water lapped against
+the stone walls of the basin and swirled in gentle eddies round the
+steps with a sound as of low laughter. Somewhere near a chain creaked,
+swinging slowly to and fro. A huge iron crane towered up, tall and
+melancholy in the dimness. Black on a shimmering expanse of starry sky
+and pearly cloud-wreaths, the figures of the fettered, struggling slaves
+stood out in vain and vehement protest against a merciless doom.
+
+The man approached unsteadily along the water side, shouting an English
+street song. He was evidently a sailor returning from a carouse at some
+tavern. No one else was within sight. As he drew near, Arthur stood up
+and stepped into the middle of the roadway. The sailor broke off in his
+song with an oath, and stopped short.
+
+"I want to speak to you," Arthur said in Italian. "Do you understand
+me?"
+
+The man shook his head. "It's no use talking that patter to me," he
+said; then, plunging into bad French, asked sullenly: "What do you want?
+Why can't you let me pass?"
+
+"Just come out of the light here a minute; I want to speak to you."
+
+"Ah! wouldn't you like it? Out of the light! Got a knife anywhere about
+you?"
+
+"No, no, man! Can't you see I only want your help? I'll pay you for it?"
+
+"Eh? What? And dressed like a swell, too------" The sailor had relapsed
+into English. He now moved into the shadow and leaned against the
+railing of the pedestal.
+
+"Well," he said, returning to his atrocious French; "and what is it you
+want?"
+
+"I want to get away from here----"
+
+"Aha! Stowaway! Want me to hide you? Been up to something, I suppose.
+Stuck a knife into somebody, eh? Just like these foreigners! And where
+might you be wanting to go? Not to the police station, I fancy?"
+
+He laughed in his tipsy way, and winked one eye.
+
+"What vessel do you belong to?"
+
+"Carlotta--Leghorn to Buenos Ayres; shipping oil one way and hides
+the other. She's over there"--pointing in the direction of the
+breakwater--"beastly old hulk!"
+
+"Buenos Ayres--yes! Can you hide me anywhere on board?"
+
+"How much can you give?"
+
+"Not very much; I have only a few paoli."
+
+"No. Can't do it under fifty--and cheap at that, too--a swell like you."
+
+"What do you mean by a swell? If you like my clothes you may change with
+me, but I can't give you more money than I have got."
+
+"You have a watch there. Hand it over."
+
+Arthur took out a lady's gold watch, delicately chased and enamelled,
+with the initials "G. B." on the back. It had been his mother's--but
+what did that matter now?
+
+"Ah!" remarked the sailor with a quick glance at it. "Stolen, of course!
+Let me look!"
+
+Arthur drew his hand away. "No," he said. "I will give you the watch
+when we are on board; not before."
+
+"You're not such a fool as you look, after all! I'll bet it's your first
+scrape, though, eh?"
+
+"That is my business. Ah! there comes the watchman."
+
+They crouched down behind the group of statuary and waited till the
+watchman had passed. Then the sailor rose, and, telling Arthur to
+follow him, walked on, laughing foolishly to himself. Arthur followed in
+silence.
+
+The sailor led him back to the little irregular square by the Medici
+palace; and, stopping in a dark corner, mumbled in what was intended for
+a cautious whisper:
+
+"Wait here; those soldier fellows will see you if you come further."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Get you some clothes. I'm not going to take you on board with that
+bloody coatsleeve."
+
+Arthur glanced down at the sleeve which had been torn by the window
+grating. A little blood from the grazed hand had fallen upon it.
+Evidently the man thought him a murderer. Well, it was of no consequence
+what people thought.
+
+After some time the sailor came back, triumphant, with a bundle under
+his arm.
+
+"Change," he whispered; "and make haste about it. I must get back, and
+that old Jew has kept me bargaining and haggling for half an hour."
+
+Arthur obeyed, shrinking with instinctive disgust at the first touch of
+second-hand clothes. Fortunately these, though rough and coarse, were
+fairly clean. When he stepped into the light in his new attire, the
+sailor looked at him with tipsy solemnity and gravely nodded his
+approval.
+
+"You'll do," he said. "This way, and don't make a noise." Arthur,
+carrying his discarded clothes, followed him through a labyrinth of
+winding canals and dark narrow alleys; the mediaeval slum quarter which
+the people of Leghorn call "New Venice." Here and there a gloomy old
+palace, solitary among the squalid houses and filthy courts, stood
+between two noisome ditches, with a forlorn air of trying to preserve
+its ancient dignity and yet of knowing the effort to be a hopeless
+one. Some of the alleys, he knew, were notorious dens of thieves,
+cut-throats, and smugglers; others were merely wretched and
+poverty-stricken.
+
+Beside one of the little bridges the sailor stopped, and, looking round
+to see that they were not observed, descended a flight of stone steps
+to a narrow landing stage. Under the bridge was a dirty, crazy old boat.
+Sharply ordering Arthur to jump in and lie down, he seated himself in
+the boat and began rowing towards the harbour's mouth. Arthur lay still
+on the wet and leaky planks, hidden by the clothes which the man had
+thrown over him, and peeping out from under them at the familiar streets
+and houses.
+
+Presently they passed under a bridge and entered that part of the canal
+which forms a moat for the fortress. The massive walls rose out of the
+water, broad at the base and narrowing upward to the frowning turrets.
+How strong, how threatening they had seemed to him a few hours ago! And
+now----
+
+He laughed softly as he lay in the bottom of the boat.
+
+"Hold your noise," the sailor whispered, "and keep your head covered!
+We're close to the custom house."
+
+Arthur drew the clothes over his head. A few yards further on the boat
+stopped before a row of masts chained together, which lay across the
+surface of the canal, blocking the narrow waterway between the custom
+house and the fortress wall. A sleepy official came out yawning and bent
+over the water's edge with a lantern in his hand.
+
+"Passports, please."
+
+The sailor handed up his official papers. Arthur, half stifled under the
+clothes, held his breath, listening.
+
+"A nice time of night to come back to your ship!" grumbled the customs
+official. "Been out on the spree, I suppose. What's in your boat?"
+
+"Old clothes. Got them cheap." He held up the waistcoat for inspection.
+The official, lowering his lantern, bent over, straining his eyes to
+see.
+
+"It's all right, I suppose. You can pass."
+
+He lifted the barrier and the boat moved slowly out into the dark,
+heaving water. At a little distance Arthur sat up and threw off the
+clothes.
+
+"Here she is," the sailor whispered, after rowing for some time in
+silence. "Keep close behind me and hold your tongue."
+
+He clambered up the side of a huge black monster, swearing under his
+breath at the clumsiness of the landsman, though Arthur's natural
+agility rendered him less awkward than most people would have been in
+his place. Once safely on board, they crept cautiously between dark
+masses of rigging and machinery, and came at last to a hatchway, which
+the sailor softly raised.
+
+"Down here!" he whispered. "I'll be back in a minute."
+
+The hold was not only damp and dark, but intolerably foul. At first
+Arthur instinctively drew back, half choked by the stench of raw hides
+and rancid oil. Then he remembered the "punishment cell," and descended
+the ladder, shrugging his shoulders. Life is pretty much the same
+everywhere, it seemed; ugly, putrid, infested with vermin, full of
+shameful secrets and dark corners. Still, life is life, and he must make
+the best of it.
+
+In a few minutes the sailor came back with something in his hands which
+Arthur could not distinctly see for the darkness.
+
+"Now, give me the watch and money. Make haste!"
+
+Taking advantage of the darkness, Arthur succeeded in keeping back a few
+coins.
+
+"You must get me something to eat," he said; "I am half starved."
+
+"I've brought it. Here you are." The sailor handed him a pitcher, some
+hard biscuit, and a piece of salt pork. "Now mind, you must hide in this
+empty barrel, here, when the customs officers come to examine to-morrow
+morning. Keep as still as a mouse till we're right out at sea. I'll let
+you know when to come out. And won't you just catch it when the captain
+sees you--that's all! Got the drink safe? Good-night!"
+
+The hatchway closed, and Arthur, setting the precious "drink" in a safe
+place, climbed on to an oil barrel to eat his pork and biscuit. Then he
+curled himself up on the dirty floor; and, for the first time since his
+babyhood, settled himself to sleep without a prayer. The rats scurried
+round him in the darkness; but neither their persistent noise nor the
+swaying of the ship, nor the nauseating stench of oil, nor the prospect
+of to-morrow's sea-sickness, could keep him awake. He cared no more for
+them all than for the broken and dishonoured idols that only yesterday
+had been the gods of his adoration.
+
+
+
+
+
+PART II.
+
+
+THIRTEEN YEARS LATER.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ONE evening in July, 1846, a few acquaintances met at Professor
+Fabrizi's house in Florence to discuss plans for future political work.
+
+Several of them belonged to the Mazzinian party and would have been
+satisfied with nothing less than a democratic Republic and a United
+Italy. Others were Constitutional Monarchists and Liberals of
+various shades. On one point, however, they were all agreed; that of
+dissatisfaction with the Tuscan censorship; and the popular professor
+had called the meeting in the hope that, on this one subject at least,
+the representatives of the dissentient parties would be able to get
+through an hour's discussion without quarrelling.
+
+Only a fortnight had elapsed since the famous amnesty which Pius IX. had
+granted, on his accession, to political offenders in the Papal States;
+but the wave of liberal enthusiasm caused by it was already spreading
+over Italy. In Tuscany even the government appeared to have been
+affected by the astounding event. It had occurred to Fabrizi and a few
+other leading Florentines that this was a propitious moment for a bold
+effort to reform the press-laws.
+
+"Of course," the dramatist Lega had said, when the subject was first
+broached to him; "it would be impossible to start a newspaper till we
+can get the press-law changed; we should not bring out the first number.
+But we may be able to run some pamphlets through the censorship already;
+and the sooner we begin the sooner we shall get the law changed."
+
+He was now explaining in Fabrizi's library his theory of the line which
+should be taken by liberal writers at the moment.
+
+"There is no doubt," interposed one of the company, a gray-haired
+barrister with a rather drawling manner of speech, "that in some way we
+must take advantage of the moment. We shall not see such a favourable
+one again for bringing forward serious reforms. But I doubt the
+pamphlets doing any good. They will only irritate and frighten the
+government instead of winning it over to our side, which is what we
+really want to do. If once the authorities begin to think of us as
+dangerous agitators our chance of getting their help is gone."
+
+"Then what would you have us do?"
+
+"Petition."
+
+"To the Grand Duke?"
+
+"Yes; for an augmentation of the liberty of the press."
+
+A keen-looking, dark man sitting by the window turned his head round
+with a laugh.
+
+"You'll get a lot out of petitioning!" he said. "I should have thought
+the result of the Renzi case was enough to cure anybody of going to work
+that way."
+
+"My dear sir, I am as much grieved as you are that we did not succeed in
+preventing the extradition of Renzi. But really--I do not wish to hurt
+the sensibilities of anyone, but I cannot help thinking that our failure
+in that case was largely due to the impatience and vehemence of some
+persons among our number. I should certainly hesitate----"
+
+"As every Piedmontese always does," the dark man interrupted sharply. "I
+don't know where the vehemence and impatience lay, unless you found them
+in the strings of meek petitions we sent in. That may be vehemence for
+Tuscany or Piedmont, but we should not call it particularly vehement in
+Naples."
+
+"Fortunately," remarked the Piedmontese, "Neapolitan vehemence is
+peculiar to Naples."
+
+"There, there, gentlemen, that will do!" the professor put in.
+"Neapolitan customs are very good things in their way and Piedmontese
+customs in theirs; but just now we are in Tuscany, and the Tuscan custom
+is to stick to the matter in hand. Grassini votes for petitions and
+Galli against them. What do you think, Dr. Riccardo?"
+
+"I see no harm in petitions, and if Grassini gets one up I'll sign it
+with all the pleasure in life. But I don't think mere petitioning and
+nothing else will accomplish much. Why can't we have both petitions and
+pamphlets?"
+
+"Simply because the pamphlets will put the government into a state of
+mind in which it won't grant the petitions," said Grassini.
+
+"It won't do that anyhow." The Neapolitan rose and came across to the
+table. "Gentlemen, you're on the wrong tack. Conciliating the government
+will do no good. What we must do is to rouse the people."
+
+"That's easier said than done; how are you going to start?"
+
+"Fancy asking Galli that! Of course he'd start by knocking the censor on
+the head."
+
+"No, indeed, I shouldn't," said Galli stoutly. "You always think if
+a man comes from down south he must believe in no argument but cold
+steel."
+
+"Well, what do you propose, then? Sh! Attention, gentlemen! Galli has a
+proposal to make."
+
+The whole company, which had broken up into little knots of twos and
+threes, carrying on separate discussions, collected round the table to
+listen. Galli raised his hands in expostulation.
+
+"No, gentlemen, it is not a proposal; it is merely a suggestion.
+It appears to me that there is a great practical danger in all this
+rejoicing over the new Pope. People seem to think that, because he has
+struck out a new line and granted this amnesty, we have only to throw
+ourselves--all of us, the whole of Italy--into his arms and he will
+carry us to the promised land. Now, I am second to no one in admiration
+of the Pope's behaviour; the amnesty was a splendid action."
+
+"I am sure His Holiness ought to feel flattered----" Grassini began
+contemptuously.
+
+"There, Grassini, do let the man speak!" Riccardo interrupted in his
+turn. "It's a most extraordinary thing that you two never can keep from
+sparring like a cat and dog. Get on, Galli!"
+
+"What I wanted to say is this," continued the Neapolitan. "The Holy
+Father, undoubtedly, is acting with the best intentions; but how far he
+will succeed in carrying his reforms is another question. Just now it's
+smooth enough and, of course, the reactionists all over Italy will lie
+quiet for a month or two till the excitement about the amnesty blows
+over; but they are not likely to let the power be taken out of their
+hands without a fight, and my own belief is that before the winter is
+half over we shall have Jesuits and Gregorians and Sanfedists and
+all the rest of the crew about our ears, plotting and intriguing, and
+poisoning off everybody they can't bribe."
+
+"That's likely enough."
+
+"Very well, then; shall we wait here, meekly sending in petitions, till
+Lambruschini and his pack have persuaded the Grand Duke to put us bodily
+under Jesuit rule, with perhaps a few Austrian hussars to patrol the
+streets and keep us in order; or shall we forestall them and take
+advantage of their momentary discomfiture to strike the first blow?"
+
+"Tell us first what blow you propose?"
+
+"I would suggest that we start an organized propaganda and agitation
+against the Jesuits."
+
+"A pamphleteering declaration of war, in fact?"
+
+"Yes; exposing their intrigues, ferreting out their secrets, and calling
+upon the people to make common cause against them."
+
+"But there are no Jesuits here to expose."
+
+"Aren't there? Wait three months and see how many we shall have. It'll
+be too late to keep them out then."
+
+"But really to rouse the town against the Jesuits one must speak
+plainly; and if you do that how will you evade the censorship?"
+
+"I wouldn't evade it; I would defy it."
+
+"You would print the pamphlets anonymously? That's all very well,
+but the fact is, we have all seen enough of the clandestine press to
+know----"
+
+"I did not mean that. I would print the pamphlets openly, with our names
+and addresses, and let them prosecute us if they dare."
+
+"The project is a perfectly mad one," Grassini exclaimed. "It is simply
+putting one's head into the lion's mouth out of sheer wantonness."
+
+"Oh, you needn't be afraid!" Galli cut in sharply; "we shouldn't ask you
+to go to prison for our pamphlets."
+
+"Hold your tongue, Galli!" said Riccardo. "It's not a question of being
+afraid; we're all as ready as you are to go to prison if there's any
+good to be got by it, but it is childish to run into danger for nothing.
+For my part, I have an amendment to the proposal to suggest."
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"I think we might contrive, with care, to fight the Jesuits without
+coming into collision with the censorship."
+
+"I don't see how you are going to manage it."
+
+"I think that it is possible to clothe what one has to say in so
+roundabout a form that----"
+
+"That the censorship won't understand it? And then you'll expect every
+poor artisan and labourer to find out the meaning by the light of
+the ignorance and stupidity that are in him! That doesn't sound very
+practicable."
+
+"Martini, what do you think?" asked the professor, turning to a
+broad-shouldered man with a great brown beard, who was sitting beside
+him.
+
+"I think that I will reserve my opinion till I have more facts to go
+upon. It's a question of trying experiments and seeing what comes of
+them."
+
+"And you, Sacconi?"
+
+"I should like to hear what Signora Bolla has to say. Her suggestions
+are always valuable."
+
+Everyone turned to the only woman in the room, who had been sitting on
+the sofa, resting her chin on one hand and listening in silence to the
+discussion. She had deep, serious black eyes, but as she raised them now
+there was an unmistakable gleam of amusement in them.
+
+"I am afraid," she said; "that I disagree with everybody."
+
+"You always do, and the worst of it is that you are always right,"
+Riccardo put in.
+
+"I think it is quite true that we must fight the Jesuits somehow; and if
+we can't do it with one weapon we must with another. But mere defiance
+is a feeble weapon and evasion a cumbersome one. As for petitioning,
+that is a child's toy."
+
+"I hope, signora," Grassini interposed, with a solemn face; "that you
+are not suggesting such methods as--assassination?"
+
+Martini tugged at his big moustache and Galli sniggered outright. Even
+the grave young woman could not repress a smile.
+
+"Believe me," she said, "that if I were ferocious enough to think of
+such things I should not be childish enough to talk about them. But
+the deadliest weapon I know is ridicule. If you can once succeed in
+rendering the Jesuits ludicrous, in making people laugh at them and
+their claims, you have conquered them without bloodshed."
+
+"I believe you are right, as far as that goes," Fabrizi said; "but I
+don't see how you are going to carry the thing through."
+
+"Why should we not be able to carry it through?" asked Martini. "A
+satirical thing has a better chance of getting over the censorship
+difficulty than a serious one; and, if it must be cloaked, the average
+reader is more likely to find out the double meaning of an apparently
+silly joke than of a scientific or economic treatise."
+
+"Then is your suggestion, signora, that we should issue satirical
+pamphlets, or attempt to run a comic paper? That last, I am sure, the
+censorship would never allow."
+
+"I don't mean exactly either. I believe a series of small satirical
+leaflets, in verse or prose, to be sold cheap or distributed free about
+the streets, would be very useful. If we could find a clever artist
+who would enter into the spirit of the thing, we might have them
+illustrated."
+
+"It's a capital idea, if only one could carry it out; but if the thing
+is to be done at all it must be well done. We should want a first-class
+satirist; and where are we to get him?"
+
+"You see," added Lega, "most of us are serious writers; and, with
+all respect to the company, I am afraid that a general attempt to be
+humorous would present the spectacle of an elephant trying to dance the
+tarantella."
+
+"I never suggested that we should all rush into work for which we
+are unfitted. My idea was that we should try to find a really gifted
+satirist--there must be one to be got somewhere in Italy, surely--and
+offer to provide the necessary funds. Of course we should have to know
+something of the man and make sure that he would work on lines with
+which we could agree."
+
+"But where are you going to find him? I can count up the satirists
+of any real talent on the fingers of one hand; and none of them are
+available. Giusti wouldn't accept; he is fully occupied as it is. There
+are one or two good men in Lombardy, but they write only in the Milanese
+dialect----"
+
+"And moreover," said Grassini, "the Tuscan people can be influenced in
+better ways than this. I am sure that it would be felt as, to say the
+least, a want of political savoir faire if we were to treat this solemn
+question of civil and religious liberty as a subject for trifling.
+Florence is not a mere wilderness of factories and money-getting like
+London, nor a haunt of idle luxury like Paris. It is a city with a great
+history------"
+
+"So was Athens," she interrupted, smiling; "but it was 'rather sluggish
+from its size and needed a gadfly to rouse it'----"
+
+Riccardo struck his hand upon the table. "Why, we never thought of the
+Gadfly! The very man!"
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"The Gadfly--Felice Rivarez. Don't you remember him? One of Muratori's
+band that came down from the Apennines three years ago?"
+
+"Oh, you knew that set, didn't you? I remember your travelling with them
+when they went on to Paris."
+
+"Yes; I went as far as Leghorn to see Rivarez off for Marseilles. He
+wouldn't stop in Tuscany; he said there was nothing left to do but
+laugh, once the insurrection had failed, and so he had better go to
+Paris. No doubt he agreed with Signor Grassini that Tuscany is the wrong
+place to laugh in. But I am nearly sure he would come back if we asked
+him, now that there is a chance of doing something in Italy."
+
+"What name did you say?"
+
+"Rivarez. He's a Brazilian, I think. At any rate, I know he has lived
+out there. He is one of the wittiest men I ever came across. Heaven
+knows we had nothing to be merry over, that week in Leghorn; it was
+enough to break one's heart to look at poor Lambertini; but there was
+no keeping one's countenance when Rivarez was in the room; it was one
+perpetual fire of absurdities. He had a nasty sabre-cut across the face,
+too; I remember sewing it up. He's an odd creature; but I believe he
+and his nonsense kept some of those poor lads from breaking down
+altogether."
+
+"Is that the man who writes political skits in the French papers under
+the name of 'Le Taon'?"
+
+"Yes; short paragraphs mostly, and comic feuilletons. The smugglers up
+in the Apennines called him 'the Gadfly' because of his tongue; and he
+took the nickname to sign his work with."
+
+"I know something about this gentleman," said Grassini, breaking in upon
+the conversation in his slow and stately manner; "and I cannot say that
+what I have heard is much to his credit. He undoubtedly possesses a
+certain showy, superficial cleverness, though I think his abilities have
+been exaggerated; and possibly he is not lacking in physical courage;
+but his reputation in Paris and Vienna is, I believe, very far from
+spotless. He appears to be a gentleman of--a--a--many adventures and
+unknown antecedents. It is said that he was picked up out of charity by
+Duprez's expedition somewhere in the wilds of tropical South America,
+in a state of inconceivable savagery and degradation. I believe he has
+never satisfactorily explained how he came to be in such a condition. As
+for the rising in the Apennines, I fear it is no secret that persons of
+all characters took part in that unfortunate affair. The men who were
+executed in Bologna are known to have been nothing but common
+malefactors; and the character of many who escaped will hardly bear
+description. Without doubt, SOME of the participators were men of high
+character----"
+
+"Some of them were the intimate friends of several persons in this
+room!" Riccardo interrupted, with an angry ring in his voice. "It's all
+very well to be particular and exclusive, Grassini; but these 'common
+malefactors' died for their belief, which is more than you or I have
+done as yet."
+
+"And another time when people tell you the stale gossip of Paris,"
+added Galli, "you can tell them from me that they are mistaken about
+the Duprez expedition. I know Duprez's adjutant, Martel, personally, and
+have heard the whole story from him. It's true that they found Rivarez
+stranded out there. He had been taken prisoner in the war, fighting
+for the Argentine Republic, and had escaped. He was wandering about the
+country in various disguises, trying to get back to Buenos Ayres. But
+the story of their taking him on out of charity is a pure fabrication.
+Their interpreter had fallen ill and been obliged to turn back; and not
+one of the Frenchmen could speak the native languages; so they offered
+him the post, and he spent the whole three years with them, exploring
+the tributaries of the Amazon. Martel told me he believed they never
+would have got through the expedition at all if it had not been for
+Rivarez."
+
+"Whatever he may be," said Fabrizi; "there must be something remarkable
+about a man who could lay his 'come hither' on two old campaigners like
+Martel and Duprez as he seems to have done. What do you think, signora?"
+
+"I know nothing about the matter; I was in England when the fugitives
+passed through Tuscany. But I should think that if the companions who
+were with a man on a three years' expedition in savage countries, and
+the comrades who were with him through an insurrection, think well of
+him, that is recommendation enough to counterbalance a good deal of
+boulevard gossip."
+
+"There is no question about the opinion his comrades had of him,"
+said Riccardo. "From Muratori and Zambeccari down to the roughest
+mountaineers they were all devoted to him. Moreover, he is a personal
+friend of Orsini. It's quite true, on the other hand, that there are
+endless cock-and-bull stories of a not very pleasant kind going about
+concerning him in Paris; but if a man doesn't want to make enemies he
+shouldn't become a political satirist."
+
+"I'm not quite sure," interposed Lega; "but it seems to me that I
+saw him once when the refugees were here. Was he not hunchbacked, or
+crooked, or something of that kind?"
+
+The professor had opened a drawer in his writing-table and was turning
+over a heap of papers. "I think I have his police description somewhere
+here," he said. "You remember when they escaped and hid in the mountain
+passes their personal appearance was posted up everywhere, and that
+Cardinal--what's the scoundrel's name?--Spinola, offered a reward for
+their heads."
+
+"There was a splendid story about Rivarez and that police paper, by the
+way. He put on a soldier's old uniform and tramped across country as a
+carabineer wounded in the discharge of his duty and trying to find his
+company. He actually got Spinola's search-party to give him a lift,
+and rode the whole day in one of their waggons, telling them harrowing
+stories of how he had been taken captive by the rebels and dragged off
+into their haunts in the mountains, and of the fearful tortures that he
+had suffered at their hands. They showed him the description paper, and
+he told them all the rubbish he could think of about 'the fiend they
+call the Gadfly.' Then at night, when they were asleep, he poured a
+bucketful of water into their powder and decamped, with his pockets full
+of provisions and ammunition------"
+
+"Ah, here's the paper," Fabrizi broke in: "'Felice Rivarez, called: The
+Gadfly. Age, about 30; birthplace and parentage, unknown, probably South
+American; profession, journalist. Short; black hair; black beard; dark
+skin; eyes, blue; forehead, broad and square; nose, mouth, chin------'
+Yes, here it is: 'Special marks: right foot lame; left arm twisted; two
+ringers missing on left hand; recent sabre-cut across face; stammers.'
+Then there's a note put: 'Very expert shot; care should be taken in
+arresting.'"
+
+"It's an extraordinary thing that he can have managed to deceive the
+search-party with such a formidable list of identification marks."
+
+"It was nothing but sheer audacity that carried him through, of course.
+If it had once occurred to them to suspect him he would have been lost.
+But the air of confiding innocence that he can put on when he chooses
+would bring a man through anything. Well, gentlemen, what do you think
+of the proposal? Rivarez seems to be pretty well known to several of the
+company. Shall we suggest to him that we should be glad of his help here
+or not?"
+
+"I think," said Fabrizi, "that he might be sounded upon the subject,
+just to find out whether he would be inclined to think of the plan."
+
+"Oh, he'll be inclined, you may be sure, once it's a case of fighting
+the Jesuits; he is the most savage anti-clerical I ever met; in fact,
+he's rather rabid on the point."
+
+"Then will you write, Riccardo?"
+
+"Certainly. Let me see, where is he now? In Switzerland, I think. He's
+the most restless being; always flitting about. But as for the pamphlet
+question----"
+
+They plunged into a long and animated discussion. When at last the
+company began to disperse Martini went up to the quiet young woman.
+
+"I will see you home, Gemma."
+
+"Thanks; I want to have a business talk with you."
+
+"Anything wrong with the addresses?" he asked softly.
+
+"Nothing serious; but I think it is time to make a few alterations. Two
+letters have been stopped in the post this week. They were both quite
+unimportant, and it may have been accidental; but we cannot afford to
+have any risks. If once the police have begun to suspect any of our
+addresses, they must be changed immediately."
+
+"I will come in about that to-morrow. I am not going to talk business
+with you to-night; you look tired."
+
+"I am not tired."
+
+"Then you are depressed again."
+
+"Oh, no; not particularly."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+"Is the mistress in, Katie?"
+
+"Yes, sir; she is dressing. If you'll just step into the parlour she
+will be down in a few minutes."
+
+Katie ushered the visitor in with the cheerful friendliness of a true
+Devonshire girl. Martini was a special favourite of hers. He spoke
+English, like a foreigner, of course, but still quite respectably; and
+he never sat discussing politics at the top of his voice till one in
+the morning, when the mistress was tired, as some visitors had a way of
+doing. Moreover, he had come to Devonshire to help the mistress in her
+trouble, when her baby was dead and her husband dying there; and ever
+since that time the big, awkward, silent man had been to Katie as much
+"one of the family" as was the lazy black cat which now ensconced itself
+upon his knee. Pasht, for his part, regarded Martini as a useful piece
+of household furniture. This visitor never trod upon his tail, or
+puffed tobacco smoke into his eyes, or in any way obtruded upon his
+consciousness an aggressive biped personality. He behaved as a mere man
+should: provided a comfortable knee to lie upon and purr, and at
+table never forgot that to look on while human beings eat fish is not
+interesting for a cat. The friendship between them was of old date.
+Once, when Pasht was a kitten and his mistress too ill to think about
+him, he had come from England under Martini's care, tucked away in a
+basket. Since then, long experience had convinced him that this clumsy
+human bear was no fair-weather friend.
+
+"How snug you look, you two!" said Gemma, coming into the room. "One
+would think you had settled yourselves for the evening."
+
+Martini carefully lifted the cat off his knee. "I came early," he said,
+"in the hope that you will give me some tea before we start. There will
+probably be a frightful crush, and Grassini won't give us any sensible
+supper--they never do in those fashionable houses."
+
+"Come now!" she said, laughing; "that's as bad as Galli! Poor Grassini
+has quite enough sins of his own to answer for without having his wife's
+imperfect housekeeping visited upon his head. As for the tea, it will be
+ready in a minute. Katie has been making some Devonshire cakes specially
+for you."
+
+"Katie is a good soul, isn't she, Pasht? By the way, so are you to have
+put on that pretty dress. I was afraid you would forget."
+
+"I promised you I would wear it, though it is rather warm for a hot
+evening like this."
+
+"It will be much cooler up at Fiesole; and nothing else ever suits you
+so well as white cashmere. I have brought you some flowers to wear with
+it."
+
+"Oh, those lovely cluster roses; I am so fond of them! But they had much
+better go into water. I hate to wear flowers."
+
+"Now that's one of your superstitious fancies."
+
+"No, it isn't; only I think they must get so bored, spending all the
+evening pinned to such a dull companion."
+
+"I am afraid we shall all be bored to-night. The conversazione will be
+dull beyond endurance."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Partly because everything Grassini touches becomes as dull as himself."
+
+"Now don't be spiteful. It is not fair when we are going to be a man's
+guests."
+
+"You are always right, Madonna. Well then, it will be dull because half
+the interesting people are not coming."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"I don't know. Out of town, or ill, or something. Anyway, there will
+be two or three ambassadors and some learned Germans, and the usual
+nondescript crowd of tourists and Russian princes and literary club
+people, and a few French officers; nobody else that I know of--except,
+of course, the new satirist, who is to be the attraction of the
+evening."
+
+"The new satirist? What, Rivarez? But I thought Grassini disapproved of
+him so strongly."
+
+"Yes; but once the man is here and is sure to be talked about, of course
+Grassini wants his house to be the first place where the new lion will
+be on show. You may be sure Rivarez has heard nothing of Grassini's
+disapproval. He may have guessed it, though; he's sharp enough."
+
+"I did not even know he had come."
+
+"He only arrived yesterday. Here comes the tea. No, don't get up; let me
+fetch the kettle."
+
+He was never so happy as in this little study. Gemma's friendship, her
+grave unconsciousness of the charm she exercised over him, her frank and
+simple comradeship were the brightest things for him in a life that
+was none too bright; and whenever he began to feel more than usually
+depressed he would come in here after business hours and sit with her,
+generally in silence, watching her as she bent over her needlework or
+poured out tea. She never questioned him about his troubles or expressed
+any sympathy in words; but he always went away stronger and calmer,
+feeling, as he put it to himself, that he could "trudge through another
+fortnight quite respectably." She possessed, without knowing it, the
+rare gift of consolation; and when, two years ago, his dearest friends
+had been betrayed in Calabria and shot down like wolves, her steady
+faith had been perhaps the thing which had saved him from despair.
+
+On Sunday mornings he sometimes came in to "talk business," that
+expression standing for anything connected with the practical work of
+the Mazzinian party, of which they both were active and devoted members.
+She was quite a different creature then; keen, cool, and logical,
+perfectly accurate and perfectly neutral. Those who saw her only at her
+political work regarded her as a trained and disciplined conspirator,
+trustworthy, courageous, in every way a valuable member of the
+party, but somehow lacking in life and individuality. "She's a born
+conspirator, worth any dozen of us; and she is nothing more," Galli had
+said of her. The "Madonna Gemma" whom Martini knew was very difficult to
+get at.
+
+"Well, and what is your 'new satirist' like?" she asked, glancing back
+over her shoulder as she opened the sideboard. "There, Cesare, there
+are barley-sugar and candied angelica for you. I wonder, by the way, why
+revolutionary men are always so fond of sweets."
+
+"Other men are, too, only they think it beneath their dignity to confess
+it. The new satirist? Oh, the kind of man that ordinary women will
+rave over and you will dislike. A sort of professional dealer in sharp
+speeches, that goes about the world with a lackadaisical manner and a
+handsome ballet-girl dangling on to his coat-tails."
+
+"Do you mean that there is really a ballet-girl, or simply that you feel
+cross and want to imitate the sharp speeches?"
+
+"The Lord defend me! No; the ballet-girl is real enough and handsome
+enough, too, for those who like shrewish beauty. Personally, I don't.
+She's a Hungarian gipsy, or something of that kind, so Riccardo says;
+from some provincial theatre in Galicia. He seems to be rather a cool
+hand; he has been introducing the girl to people just as if she were his
+maiden aunt."
+
+"Well, that's only fair if he has taken her away from her home."
+
+"You may look at things that way, dear Madonna, but society won't. I
+think most people will very much resent being introduced to a woman whom
+they know to be his mistress."
+
+"How can they know it unless he tells them so?"
+
+"It's plain enough; you'll see if you meet her. But I should think even
+he would not have the audacity to bring her to the Grassinis'."
+
+"They wouldn't receive her. Signora Grassini is not the woman to do
+unconventional things of that kind. But I wanted to hear about Signor
+Rivarez as a satirist, not as a man. Fabrizi told me he had been written
+to and had consented to come and take up the campaign against the
+Jesuits; and that is the last I have heard. There has been such a rush
+of work this week."
+
+"I don't know that I can tell you much more. There doesn't seem to have
+been any difficulty over the money question, as we feared there would
+be. He's well off, it appears, and willing to work for nothing."
+
+"Has he a private fortune, then?" "Apparently he has; though it seems
+rather odd--you heard that night at Fabrizi's about the state the Duprez
+expedition found him in. But he has got shares in mines somewhere out in
+Brazil; and then he has been immensely successful as a feuilleton writer
+in Paris and Vienna and London. He seems to have half a dozen languages
+at his finger-tips; and there's nothing to prevent his keeping up his
+newspaper connections from here. Slanging the Jesuits won't take all his
+time."
+
+"That's true, of course. It's time to start, Cesare. Yes, I will wear
+the roses. Wait just a minute."
+
+She ran upstairs, and came back with the roses in the bosom of her
+dress, and a long scarf of black Spanish lace thrown over her head.
+Martini surveyed her with artistic approval.
+
+"You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like the great and wise Queen of
+Sheba."
+
+"What an unkind speech!" she retorted, laughing; "when you know how hard
+I've been trying to mould myself into the image of the typical society
+lady! Who wants a conspirator to look like the Queen of Sheba? That's
+not the way to keep clear of spies."
+
+"You'll never be able to personate the stupid society woman if you try
+for ever. But it doesn't matter, after all; you're too fair to look upon
+for spies to guess your opinions, even though you can't simper and hide
+behind your fan like Signora Grassini."
+
+"Now Cesare, let that poor woman alone! There, take some more
+barley-sugar to sweeten your temper. Are you ready? Then we had better
+start."
+
+Martini had been quite right in saying that the conversazione would be
+both crowded and dull. The literary men talked polite small-talk and
+looked hopelessly bored, while the "nondescript crowd of tourists and
+Russian princes" fluttered up and down the rooms, asking each other
+who were the various celebrities and trying to carry on intellectual
+conversation. Grassini was receiving his guests with a manner as
+carefully polished as his boots; but his cold face lighted up at the
+sight of Gemma. He did not really like her and indeed was secretly a
+little afraid of her; but he realized that without her his drawing room
+would lack a great attraction. He had risen high in his profession, and
+now that he was rich and well known his chief ambition was to make of
+his house a centre of liberal and intellectual society. He was painfully
+conscious that the insignificant, overdressed little woman whom in his
+youth he had made the mistake of marrying was not fit, with her vapid
+talk and faded prettiness, to be the mistress of a great literary salon.
+When he could prevail upon Gemma to come he always felt that the evening
+would be a success. Her quiet graciousness of manner set the guests at
+their ease, and her very presence seemed to lay the spectre of vulgarity
+which always, in his imagination, haunted the house.
+
+Signora Grassini greeted Gemma affectionately, exclaiming in a loud
+whisper: "How charming you look to-night!" and examining the
+white cashmere with viciously critical eyes. She hated her visitor
+rancourously, for the very things for which Martini loved her; for her
+quiet strength of character; for her grave, sincere directness; for the
+steady balance of her mind; for the very expression of her face.
+And when Signora Grassini hated a woman, she showed it by effusive
+tenderness. Gemma took the compliments and endearments for what they
+were worth, and troubled her head no more about them. What is called
+"going into society" was in her eyes one of the wearisome and rather
+unpleasant tasks which a conspirator who wishes not to attract the
+notice of spies must conscientiously fulfil. She classed it together
+with the laborious work of writing in cipher; and, knowing how valuable
+a practical safeguard against suspicion is the reputation of being a
+well-dressed woman, studied the fashion-plates as carefully as she did
+the keys of her ciphers.
+
+The bored and melancholy literary lions brightened up a little at the
+sound of Gemma's name; she was very popular among them; and the radical
+journalists, especially, gravitated at once to her end of the long room.
+But she was far too practised a conspirator to let them monopolize her.
+Radicals could be had any day; and now, when they came crowding round
+her, she gently sent them about their business, reminding them with a
+smile that they need not waste their time on converting her when there
+were so many tourists in need of instruction. For her part, she devoted
+herself to an English M.P. whose sympathies the republican party was
+anxious to gain; and, knowing him to be a specialist on finance, she
+first won his attention by asking his opinion on a technical
+point concerning the Austrian currency, and then deftly turned the
+conversation to the condition of the Lombardo-Venetian revenue. The
+Englishman, who had expected to be bored with small-talk, looked askance
+at her, evidently fearing that he had fallen into the clutches of a
+blue-stocking; but finding that she was both pleasant to look at and
+interesting to talk to, surrendered completely and plunged into as grave
+a discussion of Italian finance as if she had been Metternich. When
+Grassini brought up a Frenchman "who wishes to ask Signora Bolla
+something about the history of Young Italy," the M. P. rose with
+a bewildered sense that perhaps there was more ground for Italian
+discontent than he had supposed.
+
+Later in the evening Gemma slipped out on to the terrace under the
+drawing-room windows to sit alone for a few moments among the great
+camellias and oleanders. The close air and continually shifting crowd in
+the rooms were beginning to give her a headache. At the further end of
+the terrace stood a row of palms and tree-ferns, planted in large tubs
+which were hidden by a bank of lilies and other flowering plants.
+The whole formed a complete screen, behind which was a little nook
+commanding a beautiful view out across the valley. The branches of a
+pomegranate tree, clustered with late blossoms, hung beside the narrow
+opening between the plants.
+
+In this nook Gemma took refuge, hoping that no one would guess her
+whereabouts until she had secured herself against the threatening
+headache by a little rest and silence. The night was warm and
+beautifully still; but coming out from the hot, close rooms she felt it
+cool, and drew her lace scarf about her head.
+
+Presently the sounds of voices and footsteps approaching along the
+terrace roused her from the dreamy state into which she had fallen. She
+drew back into the shadow, hoping to escape notice and get a few more
+precious minutes of silence before again having to rack her tired brain
+for conversation. To her great annoyance the footsteps paused near to
+the screen; then Signora Grassini's thin, piping little voice broke off
+for a moment in its stream of chatter.
+
+The other voice, a man's, was remarkably soft and musical; but its
+sweetness of tone was marred by a peculiar, purring drawl, perhaps mere
+affectation, more probably the result of a habitual effort to conquer
+some impediment of speech, but in any case very unpleasant.
+
+"English, did you say?" it asked. "But surely the name is quite Italian.
+What was it--Bolla?"
+
+"Yes; she is the widow of poor Giovanni Bolla, who died in England
+about four years ago,--don't you remember? Ah, I forgot--you lead such a
+wandering life; we can't expect you to know of all our unhappy country's
+martyrs--they are so many!"
+
+Signora Grassini sighed. She always talked in this style to strangers;
+the role of a patriotic mourner for the sorrows of Italy formed an
+effective combination with her boarding-school manner and pretty
+infantine pout.
+
+"Died in England!" repeated the other voice. "Was he a refugee, then?
+I seem to recognize the name, somehow; was he not connected with Young
+Italy in its early days?"
+
+"Yes; he was one of the unfortunate young men who were arrested in
+'33--you remember that sad affair? He was released in a few months;
+then, two or three years later, when there was a warrant out against him
+again, he escaped to England. The next we heard was that he was married
+there. It was a most romantic affair altogether, but poor Bolla always
+was romantic."
+
+"And then he died in England, you say?"
+
+"Yes, of consumption; he could not stand that terrible English climate.
+And she lost her only child just before his death; it caught scarlet
+fever. Very sad, is it not? And we are all so fond of dear Gemma! She
+is a little stiff, poor thing; the English always are, you know; but I
+think her troubles have made her melancholy, and----"
+
+Gemma stood up and pushed back the boughs of the pomegranate tree. This
+retailing of her private sorrows for purposes of small-talk was almost
+unbearable to her, and there was visible annoyance in her face as she
+stepped into the light.
+
+"Ah! here she is!" exclaimed the hostess, with admirable coolness.
+"Gemma, dear, I was wondering where you could have disappeared to.
+Signor Felice Rivarez wishes to make your acquaintance."
+
+"So it's the Gadfly," thought Gemma, looking at him with some curiosity.
+He bowed to her decorously enough, but his eyes glanced over her
+face and figure with a look which seemed to her insolently keen and
+inquisitorial.
+
+"You have found a d-d-delightful little nook here," he remarked, looking
+at the thick screen; "and w-w-what a charming view!"
+
+"Yes; it's a pretty corner. I came out here to get some air."
+
+"It seems almost ungrateful to the good God to stay indoors on such a
+lovely night," said the hostess, raising her eyes to the stars. (She had
+good eyelashes and liked to show them.) "Look, signore! Would not our
+sweet Italy be heaven on earth if only she were free? To think that she
+should be a bond-slave, with such flowers and such skies!"
+
+"And such patriotic women!" the Gadfly murmured in his soft, languid
+drawl.
+
+Gemma glanced round at him in some trepidation; his impudence was too
+glaring, surely, to deceive anyone. But she had underrated Signora
+Grassini's appetite for compliments; the poor woman cast down her lashes
+with a sigh.
+
+"Ah, signore, it is so little that a woman can do! Perhaps some day I
+may prove my right to the name of an Italian--who knows? And now I must
+go back to my social duties; the French ambassador has begged me to
+introduce his ward to all the notabilities; you must come in presently
+and see her. She is a most charming girl. Gemma, dear, I brought Signor
+Rivarez out to show him our beautiful view; I must leave him under your
+care. I know you will look after him and introduce him to everyone. Ah!
+there is that delightful Russian prince! Have you met him? They say he
+is a great favourite of the Emperor Nicholas. He is military commander
+of some Polish town with a name that nobody can pronounce. Quelle nuit
+magnifique! N'est-ce-pas, mon prince?"
+
+She fluttered away, chattering volubly to a bull-necked man with a heavy
+jaw and a coat glittering with orders; and her plaintive dirges for
+"notre malheureuse patrie," interpolated with "charmant" and "mon
+prince," died away along the terrace.
+
+Gemma stood quite still beside the pomegranate tree. She was sorry
+for the poor, silly little woman, and annoyed at the Gadfly's languid
+insolence. He was watching the retreating figures with an expression
+of face that angered her; it seemed ungenerous to mock at such pitiable
+creatures.
+
+"There go Italian and--Russian patriotism," he said, turning to her with
+a smile; "arm in arm and mightily pleased with each other's company.
+Which do you prefer?"
+
+She frowned slightly and made no answer.
+
+"Of c-course," he went on; "it's all a question of p-personal taste; but
+I think, of the two, I like the Russian variety best--it's so thorough.
+If Russia had to depend on flowers and skies for her supremacy instead
+of on powder and shot, how long do you think 'mon prince' would k-keep
+that Polish fortress?"
+
+"I think," she answered coldly, "that we can hold our personal opinions
+without ridiculing a woman whose guests we are."
+
+"Ah, yes! I f-forgot the obligations of hospitality here in Italy;
+they are a wonderfully hospitable people, these Italians. I'm sure the
+Austrians find them so. Won't you sit down?"
+
+He limped across the terrace to fetch a chair for her, and placed
+himself opposite to her, leaning against the balustrade. The light from
+a window was shining full on his face; and she was able to study it at
+her leisure.
+
+She was disappointed. She had expected to see a striking and powerful,
+if not pleasant face; but the most salient points of his appearance were
+a tendency to foppishness in dress and rather more than a tendency to a
+certain veiled insolence of expression and manner. For the rest, he was
+as swarthy as a mulatto, and, notwithstanding his lameness, as agile as
+a cat. His whole personality was oddly suggestive of a black jaguar.
+The forehead and left cheek were terribly disfigured by the long crooked
+scar of the old sabre-cut; and she had already noticed that, when he
+began to stammer in speaking, that side of his face was affected with a
+nervous twitch. But for these defects he would have been, in a certain
+restless and uncomfortable way, rather handsome; but it was not an
+attractive face.
+
+Presently he began again in his soft, murmuring purr ("Just the voice
+a jaguar would talk in, if it could speak and were in a good humour,"
+Gemma said to herself with rising irritation).
+
+"I hear," he said, "that you are interested in the radical press, and
+write for the papers."
+
+"I write a little; I have not time to do much."
+
+"Ah, of course! I understood from Signora Grassini that you undertake
+other important work as well."
+
+Gemma raised her eyebrows slightly. Signora Grassini, like the silly
+little woman she was, had evidently been chattering imprudently to this
+slippery creature, whom Gemma, for her part, was beginning actually to
+dislike.
+
+"My time is a good deal taken up," she said rather stiffly; "but Signora
+Grassini overrates the importance of my occupations. They are mostly of
+a very trivial character."
+
+"Well, the world would be in a bad way if we ALL of us spent our time in
+chanting dirges for Italy. I should think the neighbourhood of our
+host of this evening and his wife would make anybody frivolous,
+in self-defence. Oh, yes, I know what you're going to say; you are
+perfectly right, but they are both so deliciously funny with their
+patriotism.--Are you going in already? It is so nice out here!"
+
+"I think I will go in now. Is that my scarf? Thank you."
+
+He had picked it up, and now stood looking at her with wide eyes as blue
+and innocent as forget-me-nots in a brook.
+
+"I know you are offended with me," he said penitently, "for fooling that
+painted-up wax doll; but what can a fellow do?"
+
+"Since you ask me, I do think it an ungenerous and--well--cowardly thing
+to hold one's intellectual inferiors up to ridicule in that way; it is
+like laughing at a cripple, or------"
+
+He caught his breath suddenly, painfully; and shrank back, glancing at
+his lame foot and mutilated hand. In another instant he recovered his
+self-possession and burst out laughing.
+
+"That's hardly a fair comparison, signora; we cripples don't flaunt our
+deformities in people's faces as she does her stupidity. At least give
+us credit for recognizing that crooked backs are no pleasanter than
+crooked ways. There is a step here; will you take my arm?"
+
+She re-entered the house in embarrassed silence; his unexpected
+sensitiveness had completely disconcerted her.
+
+Directly he opened the door of the great reception room she realized
+that something unusual had happened in her absence. Most of the
+gentlemen looked both angry and uncomfortable; the ladies, with hot
+cheeks and carefully feigned unconsciousness, were all collected at one
+end of the room; the host was fingering his eye-glasses with suppressed
+but unmistakable fury, and a little group of tourists stood in a
+corner casting amused glances at the further end of the room. Evidently
+something was going on there which appeared to them in the light of a
+joke, and to most of the guests in that of an insult. Signora Grassini
+alone did not appear to have noticed anything; she was fluttering her
+fan coquettishly and chattering to the secretary of the Dutch embassy,
+who listened with a broad grin on his face.
+
+Gemma paused an instant in the doorway, turning to see if the Gadfly,
+too, had noticed the disturbed appearance of the company. There was no
+mistaking the malicious triumph in his eyes as he glanced from the face
+of the blissfully unconscious hostess to a sofa at the end of the room.
+She understood at once; he had brought his mistress here under some
+false colour, which had deceived no one but Signora Grassini.
+
+The gipsy-girl was leaning back on the sofa, surrounded by a group
+of simpering dandies and blandly ironical cavalry officers. She was
+gorgeously dressed in amber and scarlet, with an Oriental brilliancy
+of tint and profusion of ornament as startling in a Florentine
+literary salon as if she had been some tropical bird among sparrows and
+starlings. She herself seemed to feel out of place, and looked at the
+offended ladies with a fiercely contemptuous scowl. Catching sight of
+the Gadfly as he crossed the room with Gemma, she sprang up and came
+towards him, with a voluble flood of painfully incorrect French.
+
+"M. Rivarez, I have been looking for you everywhere! Count Saltykov
+wants to know whether you can go to his villa to-morrow night. There
+will be dancing."
+
+"I am sorry I can't go; but then I couldn't dance if I did. Signora
+Bolla, allow me to introduce to you Mme. Zita Reni."
+
+The gipsy glanced round at Gemma with a half defiant air and bowed
+stiffly. She was certainly handsome enough, as Martini had said, with a
+vivid, animal, unintelligent beauty; and the perfect harmony and freedom
+of her movements were delightful to see; but her forehead was low and
+narrow, and the line of her delicate nostrils was unsympathetic, almost
+cruel. The sense of oppression which Gemma had felt in the Gadfly's
+society was intensified by the gypsy's presence; and when, a moment
+later, the host came up to beg Signora Bolla to help him entertain some
+tourists in the other room, she consented with an odd feeling of relief.
+
+    *****
+
+"Well, Madonna, and what do you think of the Gadfly?" Martini asked as
+they drove back to Florence late at night. "Did you ever see anything
+quite so shameless as the way he fooled that poor little Grassini
+woman?"
+
+"About the ballet-girl, you mean?"
+
+"Yes, he persuaded her the girl was going to be the lion of the season.
+Signora Grassini would do anything for a celebrity."
+
+"I thought it an unfair and unkind thing to do; it put the Grassinis
+into a false position; and it was nothing less than cruel to the girl
+herself. I am sure she felt ill at ease."
+
+"You had a talk with him, didn't you? What did you think of him?"
+
+"Oh, Cesare, I didn't think anything except how glad I was to see
+the last of him. I never met anyone so fearfully tiring. He gave me a
+headache in ten minutes. He is like an incarnate demon of unrest."
+
+"I thought you wouldn't like him; and, to tell the truth, no more do I.
+The man's as slippery as an eel; I don't trust him."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE Gadfly took lodgings outside the Roman gate, near to which Zita was
+boarding. He was evidently somewhat of a sybarite; and, though nothing
+in the rooms showed any serious extravagance, there was a tendency to
+luxuriousness in trifles and to a certain fastidious daintiness in the
+arrangement of everything which surprised Galli and Riccardo. They
+had expected to find a man who had lived among the wildernesses of the
+Amazon more simple in his tastes, and wondered at his spotless ties and
+rows of boots, and at the masses of flowers which always stood upon
+his writing table. On the whole they got on very well with him. He was
+hospitable and friendly to everyone, especially to the local members
+of the Mazzinian party. To this rule Gemma, apparently, formed an
+exception; he seemed to have taken a dislike to her from the time of
+their first meeting, and in every way avoided her company. On two or
+three occasions he was actually rude to her, thus bringing upon himself
+Martini's most cordial detestation. There had been no love lost between
+the two men from the beginning; their temperaments appeared to be too
+incompatible for them to feel anything but repugnance for each other. On
+Martini's part this was fast developing into hostility.
+
+"I don't care about his not liking me," he said one day to Gemma with
+an aggrieved air. "I don't like him, for that matter; so there's no harm
+done. But I can't stand the way he behaves to you. If it weren't for the
+scandal it would make in the party first to beg a man to come and then
+to quarrel with him, I should call him to account for it."
+
+"Let him alone, Cesare; it isn't of any consequence, and after all, it's
+as much my fault as his."
+
+"What is your fault?"
+
+"That he dislikes me so. I said a brutal thing to him when we first met,
+that night at the Grassinis'."
+
+"YOU said a brutal thing? That's hard to believe, Madonna."
+
+"It was unintentional, of course, and I was very sorry. I said something
+about people laughing at cripples, and he took it personally. It had
+never occurred to me to think of him as a cripple; he is not so badly
+deformed."
+
+"Of course not. He has one shoulder higher than the other, and his
+left arm is pretty badly disabled, but he's neither hunchbacked nor
+clubfooted. As for his lameness, it isn't worth talking about."
+
+"Anyway, he shivered all over and changed colour. Of course it was
+horribly tactless of me, but it's odd he should be so sensitive. I
+wonder if he has ever suffered from any cruel jokes of that kind."
+
+"Much more likely to have perpetrated them, I should think. There's a
+sort of internal brutality about that man, under all his fine manners,
+that is perfectly sickening to me."
+
+"Now, Cesare, that's downright unfair. I don't like him any more than
+you do, but what is the use of making him out worse than he is? His
+manner is a little affected and irritating--I expect he has been too
+much lionized--and the everlasting smart speeches are dreadfully tiring;
+but I don't believe he means any harm."
+
+"I don't know what he means, but there's something not clean about a
+man who sneers at everything. It fairly disgusted me the other day at
+Fabrizi's debate to hear the way he cried down the reforms in Rome, just
+as if he wanted to find a foul motive for everything."
+
+Gemma sighed. "I am afraid I agreed better with him than with you on
+that point," she said. "All you good people are so full of the most
+delightful hopes and expectations; you are always ready to think that
+if one well-meaning middle-aged gentleman happens to get elected Pope,
+everything else will come right of itself. He has only got to throw open
+the prison doors and give his blessing to everybody all round, and we
+may expect the millennium within three months. You never seem able to
+see that he can't set things right even if he would. It's the principle
+of the thing that's wrong, not the behaviour of this man or that."
+
+"What principle? The temporal power of the Pope?"
+
+"Why that in particular? That's merely a part of the general wrong. The
+bad principle is that any man should hold over another the power to bind
+and loose. It's a false relationship to stand in towards one's fellows."
+
+Martini held up his hands. "That will do, Madonna," he said, laughing.
+"I am not going to discuss with you, once you begin talking rank
+Antinomianism in that fashion. I'm sure your ancestors must have been
+English Levellers in the seventeenth century. Besides, what I came round
+about is this MS."
+
+He pulled it out of his pocket.
+
+"Another new pamphlet?"
+
+"A stupid thing this wretched man Rivarez sent in to yesterday's
+committee. I knew we should come to loggerheads with him before long."
+
+"What is the matter with it? Honestly, Cesare, I think you are a little
+prejudiced. Rivarez may be unpleasant, but he's not stupid."
+
+"Oh, I don't deny that this is clever enough in its way; but you had
+better read the thing yourself."
+
+The pamphlet was a skit on the wild enthusiasm over the new Pope with
+which Italy was still ringing. Like all the Gadfly's writing, it was
+bitter and vindictive; but, notwithstanding her irritation at the
+style, Gemma could not help recognizing in her heart the justice of the
+criticism.
+
+"I quite agree with you that it is detestably malicious," she said,
+laying down the manuscript. "But the worst thing about it is that it's
+all true."
+
+"Gemma!"
+
+"Yes, but it is. The man's a cold-blooded eel, if you like; but he's
+got the truth on his side. There is no use in our trying to persuade
+ourselves that this doesn't hit the mark--it does!"
+
+"Then do you suggest that we should print it?"
+
+"Ah! that's quite another matter. I certainly don't think we ought to
+print it as it stands; it would hurt and alienate everybody and do no
+good. But if he would rewrite it and cut out the personal attacks,
+I think it might be made into a really valuable piece of work. As
+political criticism it is very fine. I had no idea he could write so
+well. He says things which need saying and which none of us have had
+the courage to say. This passage, where he compares Italy to a tipsy
+man weeping with tenderness on the neck of the thief who is picking his
+pocket, is splendidly written."
+
+"Gemma! The very worst bit in the whole thing! I hate that ill-natured
+yelping at everything and everybody!"
+
+"So do I; but that's not the point. Rivarez has a very disagreeable
+style, and as a human being he is not attractive; but when he says that
+we have made ourselves drunk with processions and embracing and shouting
+about love and reconciliation, and that the Jesuits and Sanfedists are
+the people who will profit by it all, he's right a thousand times. I
+wish I could have been at the committee yesterday. What decision did you
+finally arrive at?"
+
+"What I have come here about: to ask you to go and talk it over with him
+and persuade him to soften the thing."
+
+"Me? But I hardly know the man; and besides that, he detests me. Why
+should I go, of all people?"
+
+"Simply because there's no one else to do it to-day. Besides, you
+are more reasonable than the rest of us, and won't get into useless
+arguments and quarrel with him, as we should."
+
+"I shan't do that, certainly. Well, I will go if you like, though I have
+not much hope of success."
+
+"I am sure you will be able to manage him if you try. Yes, and tell him
+that the committee all admired the thing from a literary point of view.
+That will put him into a good humour, and it's perfectly true, too."
+
+    *****
+
+The Gadfly was sitting beside a table covered with flowers and ferns,
+staring absently at the floor, with an open letter on his knee. A shaggy
+collie dog, lying on a rug at his feet, raised its head and growled as
+Gemma knocked at the open door, and the Gadfly rose hastily and bowed
+in a stiff, ceremonious way. His face had suddenly grown hard and
+expressionless.
+
+"You are too kind," he said in his most chilling manner. "If you had let
+me know that you wanted to speak to me I would have called on you."
+
+Seeing that he evidently wished her at the end of the earth, Gemma
+hastened to state her business. He bowed again and placed a chair for
+her.
+
+"The committee wished me to call upon you," she began, "because there
+has been a certain difference of opinion about your pamphlet."
+
+"So I expected." He smiled and sat down opposite to her, drawing a large
+vase of chrysanthemums between his face and the light.
+
+"Most of the members agreed that, however much they may admire the
+pamphlet as a literary composition, they do not think that in its
+present form it is quite suitable for publication. They fear that the
+vehemence of its tone may give offence, and alienate persons whose help
+and support are valuable to the party."
+
+He pulled a chrysanthemum from the vase and began slowly plucking
+off one white petal after another. As her eyes happened to catch the
+movement of the slim right hand dropping the petals, one by one, an
+uncomfortable sensation came over Gemma, as though she had somewhere
+seen that gesture before.
+
+"As a literary composition," he remarked in his soft, cold voice, "it is
+utterly worthless, and could be admired only by persons who know nothing
+about literature. As for its giving offence, that is the very thing I
+intended it to do."
+
+"That I quite understand. The question is whether you may not succeed in
+giving offence to the wrong people."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and put a torn-off petal between his teeth. "I
+think you are mistaken," he said. "The question is: For what purpose
+did your committee invite me to come here? I understood, to expose and
+ridicule the Jesuits. I fulfil my obligation to the best of my ability."
+
+"And I can assure you that no one has any doubt as to either the ability
+or the good-will. What the committee fears is that the liberal party may
+take offence, and also that the town workmen may withdraw their
+moral support. You may have meant the pamphlet for an attack upon the
+Sanfedists: but many readers will construe it as an attack upon the
+Church and the new Pope; and this, as a matter of political tactics, the
+committee does not consider desirable."
+
+"I begin to understand. So long as I keep to the particular set of
+clerical gentlemen with whom the party is just now on bad terms, I
+may speak sooth if the fancy takes me; but directly I touch upon the
+committee's own pet priests--'truth's a dog must to kennel; he must be
+whipped out, when the--Holy Father may stand by the fire and-----' Yes,
+the fool was right; I'd rather be any kind of a thing than a fool. Of
+course I must bow to the committee's decision, but I continue to
+think that it has pared its wit o' both sides and left--M-mon-signor
+M-m-montan-n-nelli in the middle."
+
+"Montanelli?" Gemma repeated. "I don't understand you. Do you mean the
+Bishop of Brisighella?"
+
+"Yes; the new Pope has just created him a Cardinal, you know. I have a
+letter about him here. Would you care to hear it? The writer is a friend
+of mine on the other side of the frontier."
+
+"The Papal frontier?"
+
+"Yes. This is what he writes----" He took up the letter which had been
+in his hand when she entered, and read aloud, suddenly beginning to
+stammer violently:
+
+"'Y-o-you will s-s-s-soon have the p-pleasure of m-m-meeting one of our
+w-w-worst enemies, C-cardinal Lorenzo M-montan-n-nelli, the B-b-bishop
+of Brisig-g-hella. He int-t----'"
+
+He broke off, paused a moment, and began again, very slowly and drawling
+insufferably, but no longer stammering:
+
+"'He intends to visit Tuscany during the coming month on a mission of
+reconciliation. He will preach first in Florence, where he will stay for
+about three weeks; then will go on to Siena and Pisa, and return to the
+Romagna by Pistoja. He ostensibly belongs to the liberal party in the
+Church, and is a personal friend of the Pope and Cardinal Feretti. Under
+Gregory he was out of favour, and was kept out of sight in a little
+hole in the Apennines. Now he has come suddenly to the front. Really,
+of course, he is as much pulled by Jesuit wires as any Sanfedist in the
+country. This mission was suggested by some of the Jesuit fathers. He is
+one of the most brilliant preachers in the Church, and as mischievous
+in his way as Lambruschini himself. His business is to keep the popular
+enthusiasm over the Pope from subsiding, and to occupy the public
+attention until the Grand Duke has signed a project which the agents of
+the Jesuits are preparing to lay before him. What this project is I have
+been unable to discover.' Then, further on, it says: 'Whether Montanelli
+understands for what purpose he is being sent to Tuscany, or whether
+the Jesuits are playing on him, I cannot make out. He is either an
+uncommonly clever knave, or the biggest ass that was ever foaled. The
+odd thing is that, so far as I can discover, he neither takes bribes nor
+keeps mistresses--the first time I ever came across such a thing.'"
+
+He laid down the letter and sat looking at her with half-shut eyes,
+waiting, apparently, for her to speak.
+
+"Are you satisfied that your informant is correct in his facts?" she
+asked after a moment.
+
+"As to the irreproachable character of Monsignor M-mon-t-tan-nelli's
+private life? No; but neither is he. As you will observe, he puts in the
+s-s-saving clause: 'So far as I c-can discover----
+
+"I was not speaking of that," she interposed coldly, "but of the part
+about this mission."
+
+"I can fully trust the writer. He is an old friend of mine--one of my
+comrades of '43, and he is in a position which gives him exceptional
+opportunities for finding out things of that kind."
+
+"Some official at the Vatican," thought Gemma quickly. "So that's the
+kind of connections you have? I guessed there was something of that
+sort."
+
+"This letter is, of course, a private one," the Gadfly went on; "and you
+understand that the information is to be kept strictly to the members of
+your committee."
+
+"That hardly needs saying. Then about the pamphlet: may I tell the
+committee that you consent to make a few alterations and soften it a
+little, or that----"
+
+"Don't you think the alterations may succeed in spoiling the beauty
+of the 'literary composition,' signora, as well as in reducing the
+vehemence of the tone?"
+
+"You are asking my personal opinion. What I have come here to express is
+that of the committee as a whole."
+
+"Does that imply that y-y-you disagree with the committee as a whole?"
+He had put the letter into his pocket and was now leaning forward
+and looking at her with an eager, concentrated expression which quite
+changed the character of his face. "You think----"
+
+"If you care to know what I personally think--I disagree with the
+majority on both points. I do not at all admire the pamphlet from a
+literary point of view, and I do think it true as a presentation of
+facts and wise as a matter of tactics."
+
+"That is------"
+
+"I quite agree with you that Italy is being led away by a
+will-o'-the-wisp and that all this enthusiasm and rejoicing will
+probably land her in a terrible bog; and I should be most heartily glad
+to have that openly and boldly said, even at the cost of offending or
+alienating some of our present supporters. But as a member of a body the
+large majority of which holds the opposite view, I cannot insist upon my
+personal opinion; and I certainly think that if things of that kind are
+to be said at all, they should be said temperately and quietly; not in
+the tone adopted in this pamphlet."
+
+"Will you wait a minute while I look through the manuscript?"
+
+He took it up and glanced down the pages. A dissatisfied frown settled
+on his face.
+
+"Yes, of course, you are perfectly right. The thing's written like a
+cafe chantant skit, not a political satire. But what's a man to do? If
+I write decently the public won't understand it; they will say it's dull
+if it isn't spiteful enough."
+
+"Don't you think spitefulness manages to be dull when we get too much of
+it?"
+
+He threw a keen, rapid glance at her, and burst out laughing.
+
+"Apparently the signora belongs to the dreadful category of people who
+are always right! Then if I yield to the temptation to be spiteful,
+I may come in time to be as dull as Signora Grassini? Heavens, what a
+fate! No, you needn't frown. I know you don't like me, and I am going to
+keep to business. What it comes to, then, is practically this: if I cut
+out the personalities and leave the essential part of the thing as
+it is, the committee will very much regret that they can't take the
+responsibility of printing it. If I cut out the political truth and
+make all the hard names apply to no one but the party's enemies, the
+committee will praise the thing up to the skies, and you and I will know
+it's not worth printing. Rather a nice point of metaphysics: Which is
+the more desirable condition, to be printed and not be worth it, or to
+be worth it and not be printed? Well, signora?"
+
+"I do not think you are tied to any such alternative. I believe that
+if you were to cut out the personalities the committee would consent to
+print the pamphlet, though the majority would, of course, not agree with
+it; and I am convinced that it would be very useful. But you would
+have to lay aside the spitefulness. If you are going to say a thing the
+substance of which is a big pill for your readers to swallow, there is
+no use in frightening them at the beginning by the form."
+
+He sighed and shrugged his shoulders resignedly. "I submit, signora; but
+on one condition. If you rob me of my laugh now, I must have it out
+next time. When His Eminence, the irreproachable Cardinal, turns up
+in Florence, neither you nor your committee must object to my being as
+spiteful as I like. It's my due!"
+
+He spoke in his lightest, coldest manner, pulling the chrysanthemums
+out of their vase and holding them up to watch the light through the
+translucent petals. "What an unsteady hand he has," she thought, seeing
+how the flowers shook and quivered. "Surely he doesn't drink!"
+
+"You had better discuss the matter with the other members of the
+committee," she said, rising. "I cannot form any opinion as to what they
+will think about it."
+
+"And you?" He had risen too, and was leaning against the table, pressing
+the flowers to his face.
+
+She hesitated. The question distressed her, bringing up old and
+miserable associations. "I--hardly know," she said at last. "Many years
+ago I used to know something about Monsignor Montanelli. He was only
+a canon at that time, and Director of the theological seminary in
+the province where I lived as a girl. I heard a great deal about him
+from--someone who knew him very intimately; and I never heard anything
+of him that was not good. I believe that, in those days at least, he
+was really a most remarkable man. But that was long ago, and he may have
+changed. Irresponsible power corrupts so many people."
+
+The Gadfly raised his head from the flowers, and looked at her with a
+steady face.
+
+"At any rate," he said, "if Monsignor Montanelli is not himself a
+scoundrel, he is a tool in scoundrelly hands. It is all one to me which
+he is--and to my friends across the frontier. A stone in the path may
+have the best intentions, but it must be kicked out of the path, for all
+that. Allow me, signora!" He rang the bell, and, limping to the door,
+opened it for her to pass out.
+
+"It was very kind of you to call, signora. May I send for a vettura? No?
+Good-afternoon, then! Bianca, open the hall-door, please."
+
+Gemma went out into the street, pondering anxiously. "My friends across
+the frontier"--who were they? And how was the stone to be kicked out of
+the path? If with satire only, why had he said it with such dangerous
+eyes?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONSIGNOR MONTANELLI arrived in Florence in the first week of October.
+His visit caused a little flutter of excitement throughout the town. He
+was a famous preacher and a representative of the reformed Papacy; and
+people looked eagerly to him for an exposition of the "new doctrine,"
+the gospel of love and reconciliation which was to cure the sorrows of
+Italy. The nomination of Cardinal Gizzi to the Roman State Secretaryship
+in place of the universally detested Lambruschini had raised the public
+enthusiasm to its highest pitch; and Montanelli was just the man who
+could most easily sustain it. The irreproachable strictness of his life
+was a phenomenon sufficiently rare among the high dignitaries of the
+Roman Church to attract the attention of people accustomed to regard
+blackmailing, peculation, and disreputable intrigues as almost
+invariable adjuncts to the career of a prelate. Moreover, his talent as
+a preacher was really great; and with his beautiful voice and magnetic
+personality, he would in any time and place have made his mark.
+
+Grassini, as usual, strained every nerve to get the newly arrived
+celebrity to his house; but Montanelli was no easy game to catch. To
+all invitations he replied with the same courteous but positive refusal,
+saying that his health was bad and his time fully occupied, and that he
+had neither strength nor leisure for going into society.
+
+"What omnivorous creatures those Grassinis are!" Martini said
+contemptuously to Gemma as they crossed the Signoria square one bright,
+cold Sunday morning. "Did you notice the way Grassini bowed when the
+Cardinal's carriage drove up? It's all one to them who a man is, so long
+as he's talked about. I never saw such lion-hunters in my life. Only
+last August it was the Gadfly; now it's Montanelli. I hope His Eminence
+feels flattered at the attention; a precious lot of adventurers have
+shared it with him."
+
+They had been hearing Montanelli preach in the Cathedral; and the great
+building had been so thronged with eager listeners that Martini, fearing
+a return of Gemma's troublesome headaches, had persuaded her to come
+away before the Mass was over. The sunny morning, the first after a week
+of rain, offered him an excuse for suggesting a walk among the garden
+slopes by San Niccolo.
+
+"No," she answered; "I should like a walk if you have time; but not to
+the hills. Let us keep along the Lung'Arno; Montanelli will pass on
+his way back from church and I am like Grassini--I want to see the
+notability."
+
+"But you have just seen him."
+
+"Not close. There was such a crush in the Cathedral, and his back was
+turned to us when the carriage passed. If we keep near to the bridge
+we shall be sure to see him well--he is staying on the Lung'Arno, you
+know."
+
+"But what has given you such a sudden fancy to see Montanelli? You never
+used to care about famous preachers."
+
+"It is not famous preachers; it is the man himself; I want to see how
+much he has changed since I saw him last."
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"Two days after Arthur's death."
+
+Martini glanced at her anxiously. They had come out on to the Lung'Arno,
+and she was staring absently across the water, with a look on her face
+that he hated to see.
+
+"Gemma, dear," he said after a moment; "are you going to let that
+miserable business haunt you all your life? We have all made mistakes
+when we were seventeen."
+
+"We have not all killed our dearest friend when we were seventeen," she
+answered wearily; and, leaning her arm on the stone balustrade of the
+bridge, looked down into the river. Martini held his tongue; he was
+almost afraid to speak to her when this mood was on her.
+
+"I never look down at water without remembering," she said, slowly
+raising her eyes to his; then with a nervous little shiver: "Let us walk
+on a bit, Cesare; it is chilly for standing."
+
+They crossed the bridge in silence and walked on along the river-side.
+After a few minutes she spoke again.
+
+"What a beautiful voice that man has! There is something about it that I
+have never heard in any other human voice. I believe it is the secret of
+half his influence."
+
+"It is a wonderful voice," Martini assented, catching at a subject of
+conversation which might lead her away from the dreadful memory called
+up by the river, "and he is, apart from his voice, about the finest
+preacher I have ever heard. But I believe the secret of his influence
+lies deeper than that. It is the way his life stands out from that of
+almost all the other prelates. I don't know whether you could lay your
+hand on one other high dignitary in all the Italian Church--except the
+Pope himself--whose reputation is so utterly spotless. I remember, when
+I was in the Romagna last year, passing through his diocese and seeing
+those fierce mountaineers waiting in the rain to get a glimpse of him or
+touch his dress. He is venerated there almost as a saint; and that means
+a good deal among the Romagnols, who generally hate everything that
+wears a cassock. I remarked to one of the old peasants,--as typical a
+smuggler as ever I saw in my life,--that the people seemed very much
+devoted to their bishop, and he said: 'We don't love bishops, they are
+liars; we love Monsignor Montanelli. Nobody has ever known him to tell a
+lie or do an unjust thing.'"
+
+"I wonder," Gemma said, half to herself, "if he knows the people think
+that about him."
+
+"Why shouldn't he know it? Do you think it is not true?"
+
+"I know it is not true."
+
+"How do you know it?"
+
+"Because he told me so."
+
+"HE told you? Montanelli? Gemma, what do you mean?"
+
+She pushed the hair back from her forehead and turned towards him. They
+were standing still again, he leaning on the balustrade and she slowly
+drawing lines on the pavement with the point of her umbrella.
+
+"Cesare, you and I have been friends for all these years, and I have
+never told you what really happened about Arthur."
+
+"There is no need to tell me, dear," he broke in hastily; "I know all
+about it already."
+
+"Giovanni told you?"
+
+"Yes, when he was dying. He told me about it one night when I was
+sitting up with him. He said---- Gemma, dear, I had better tell you the
+truth, now we have begun talking about it--he said that you were always
+brooding over that wretched story, and he begged me to be as good a
+friend to you as I could and try to keep you from thinking of it. And I
+have tried to, dear, though I may not have succeeded--I have, indeed."
+
+"I know you have," she answered softly, raising her eyes for a moment;
+"I should have been badly off without your friendship. But--Giovanni did
+not tell you about Monsignor Montanelli, then?"
+
+"No, I didn't know that he had anything to do with it. What he told me
+was about--all that affair with the spy, and about----"
+
+"About my striking Arthur and his drowning himself. Well, I will tell
+you about Montanelli."
+
+They turned back towards the bridge over which the Cardinal's carriage
+would have to pass. Gemma looked out steadily across the water as she
+spoke.
+
+"In those days Montanelli was a canon; he was Director of the
+Theological Seminary at Pisa, and used to give Arthur lessons in
+philosophy and read with him after he went up to the Sapienza. They were
+perfectly devoted to each other; more like two lovers than teacher and
+pupil. Arthur almost worshipped the ground that Montanelli walked on,
+and I remember his once telling me that if he lost his 'Padre'--he
+always used to call Montanelli so--he should go and drown himself. Well,
+then you know what happened about the spy. The next day, my father and
+the Burtons--Arthur's step-brothers, most detestable people--spent the
+whole day dragging the Darsena basin for the body; and I sat in my room
+alone and thought of what I had done----"
+
+She paused a moment, and went on again:
+
+"Late in the evening my father came into my room and said: 'Gemma,
+child, come downstairs; there's a man I want you to see.' And when we
+went down there was one of the students belonging to the group sitting
+in the consulting room, all white and shaking; and he told us about
+Giovanni's second letter coming from the prison to say that they had
+heard from the jailer about Cardi, and that Arthur had been tricked in
+the confessional. I remember the student saying to me: 'It is at least
+some consolation that we know he was innocent' My father held my hands
+and tried to comfort me; he did not know then about the blow. Then I
+went back to my room and sat there all night alone. In the morning my
+father went out again with the Burtons to see the harbour dragged. They
+had some hope of finding the body there."
+
+"It was never found, was it?"
+
+"No; it must have got washed out to sea; but they thought there was a
+chance. I was alone in my room and the servant came up to say that a
+'reverendissimo padre' had called and she had told him my father was at
+the docks and he had gone away. I knew it must be Montanelli; so I ran
+out at the back door and caught him up at the garden gate. When I said:
+'Canon Montanelli, I want to speak to you,' he just stopped and waited
+silently for me to speak. Oh, Cesare, if you had seen his face--it
+haunted me for months afterwards! I said: 'I am Dr. Warren's daughter,
+and I have come to tell you that it is I who have killed Arthur.' I told
+him everything, and he stood and listened, like a figure cut in stone,
+till I had finished; then he said: 'Set your heart at rest, my child; it
+is I that am a murderer, not you. I deceived him and he found it out.'
+And with that he turned and went out at the gate without another word."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I don't know what happened to him after that; I heard the same evening
+that he had fallen down in the street in a kind of fit and had been
+carried into a house near the docks; but that is all I know. My father
+did everything he could for me; when I told him about it he threw up
+his practice and took me away to England at once, so that I should never
+hear anything that could remind me. He was afraid I should end in the
+water, too; and indeed I believe I was near it at one time. But then,
+you know, when we found out that my father had cancer I was obliged to
+come to myself--there was no one else to nurse him. And after he died
+I was left with the little ones on my hands until my elder brother was
+able to give them a home. Then there was Giovanni. Do you know, when
+he came to England we were almost afraid to meet each other with that
+frightful memory between us. He was so bitterly remorseful for his share
+in it all--that unhappy letter he wrote from prison. But I believe,
+really, it was our common trouble that drew us together."
+
+Martini smiled and shook his head.
+
+"It may have been so on your side," he said; "but Giovanni had made up
+his mind from the first time he ever saw you. I remember his coming back
+to Milan after that first visit to Leghorn and raving about you to me
+till I was perfectly sick of hearing of the English Gemma. I thought I
+should hate you. Ah! there it comes!"
+
+The carriage crossed the bridge and drove up to a large house on the
+Lung'Arno. Montanelli was leaning back on the cushions as if too tired
+to care any longer for the enthusiastic crowd which had collected round
+the door to catch a glimpse of him. The inspired look that his face had
+worn in the Cathedral had faded quite away and the sunlight showed the
+lines of care and fatigue. When he had alighted and passed, with the
+heavy, spiritless tread of weary and heart-sick old age, into the house,
+Gemma turned away and walked slowly to the bridge. Her face seemed for
+a moment to reflect the withered, hopeless look of his. Martini walked
+beside her in silence.
+
+"I have so often wondered," she began again after a little pause; "what
+he meant about the deception. It has sometimes occurred to me----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, it is very strange; there was the most extraordinary personal
+resemblance between them."
+
+"Between whom?"
+
+"Arthur and Montanelli. It was not only I who noticed it. And there was
+something mysterious in the relationship between the members of that
+household. Mrs. Burton, Arthur's mother, was one of the sweetest women
+I ever knew. Her face had the same spiritual look as Arthur's, and I
+believe they were alike in character, too. But she always seemed half
+frightened, like a detected criminal; and her step-son's wife used to
+treat her as no decent person treats a dog. And then Arthur himself was
+such a startling contrast to all those vulgar Burtons. Of course, when
+one is a child one takes everything for granted; but looking back on it
+afterwards I have often wondered whether Arthur was really a Burton."
+
+"Possibly he found out something about his mother--that may easily
+have been the cause of his death, not the Cardi affair at all," Martini
+interposed, offering the only consolation he could think of at the
+moment. Gemma shook her head.
+
+"If you could have seen his face after I struck him, Cesare, you would
+not think that. It may be all true about Montanelli--very likely it
+is--but what I have done I have done."
+
+They walked on a little way without speaking.
+
+"My dear," Martini said at last; "if there were any way on earth to undo
+a thing that is once done, it would be worth while to brood over our old
+mistakes; but as it is, let the dead bury their dead. It is a terrible
+story, but at least the poor lad is out of it now, and luckier than some
+of those that are left--the ones that are in exile and in prison. You
+and I have them to think of, we have no right to eat out our hearts for
+the dead. Remember what your own Shelley says: 'The past is Death's,
+the future is thine own.' Take it, while it is still yours, and fix your
+mind, not on what you may have done long ago to hurt, but on what you
+can do now to help."
+
+In his earnestness he had taken her hand. He dropped it suddenly and
+drew back at the sound of a soft, cold, drawling voice behind him.
+
+"Monsignor Montan-n-nelli," murmured this languid voice, "is undoubtedly
+all you say, my dear doctor. In fact, he appears to be so much too good
+for this world that he ought to be politely escorted into the next. I
+am sure he would cause as great a sensation there as he has done here;
+there are p-p-probably many old-established ghosts who have never seen
+such a thing as an honest cardinal. And there is nothing that ghosts
+love as they do novelties----"
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Dr. Riccardo's voice in a tone of
+ill-suppressed irritation.
+
+"From Holy Writ, my dear sir. If the Gospel is to be trusted, even the
+most respectable of all Ghosts had a f-f-fancy for capricious alliances.
+Now, honesty and c-c-cardinals--that seems to me a somewhat capricious
+alliance, and rather an uncomfortable one, like shrimps and liquorice.
+Ah, Signor Martini, and Signora Bolla! Lovely weather after the rain, is
+it not? Have you been to hear the n-new Savonarola, too?"
+
+Martini turned round sharply. The Gadfly, with a cigar in his mouth and
+a hot-house flower in his buttonhole, was holding out to him a slender,
+carefully-gloved hand. With the sunlight reflected in his immaculate
+boots and glancing back from the water on to his smiling face, he looked
+to Martini less lame and more conceited than usual. They were shaking
+hands, affably on the one side and rather sulkily on the other, when
+Riccardo hastily exclaimed:
+
+"I am afraid Signora Bolla is not well!"
+
+She was so pale that her face looked almost livid under the shadow of
+her bonnet, and the ribbon at her throat fluttered perceptibly from the
+violent beating of the heart.
+
+"I will go home," she said faintly.
+
+A cab was called and Martini got in with her to see her safely home. As
+the Gadfly bent down to arrange her cloak, which was hanging over the
+wheel, he raised his eyes suddenly to her face, and Martini saw that she
+shrank away with a look of something like terror.
+
+"Gemma, what is the matter with you?" he asked, in English, when they
+had started. "What did that scoundrel say to you?"
+
+"Nothing, Cesare; it was no fault of his. I--I--had a fright----"
+
+"A fright?"
+
+"Yes; I fancied----" She put one hand over her eyes, and he waited
+silently till she should recover her self-command. Her face was already
+regaining its natural colour.
+
+"You are quite right," she said at last, turning to him and speaking in
+her usual voice; "it is worse than useless to look back at a horrible
+past. It plays tricks with one's nerves and makes one imagine all sorts
+of impossible things. We will NEVER talk about that subject again,
+Cesare, or I shall see fantastic likenesses to Arthur in every face I
+meet. It is a kind of hallucination, like a nightmare in broad daylight.
+Just now, when that odious little fop came up, I fancied it was Arthur."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE Gadfly certainly knew how to make personal enemies. He had arrived
+in Florence in August, and by the end of October three-fourths of the
+committee which had invited him shared Martini's opinion. His savage
+attacks upon Montanelli had annoyed even his admirers; and Galli
+himself, who at first had been inclined to uphold everything the witty
+satirist said or did, began to acknowledge with an aggrieved air that
+Montanelli had better have been left in peace. "Decent cardinals are
+none so plenty. One might treat them politely when they do turn up."
+
+The only person who, apparently, remained quite indifferent to the storm
+of caricatures and pasquinades was Montanelli himself. It seemed, as
+Martini said, hardly worth while to expend one's energy in ridiculing
+a man who took it so good-humouredly. It was said in the town that
+Montanelli, one day when the Archbishop of Florence was dining with
+him, had found in the room one of the Gadfly's bitter personal lampoons
+against himself, had read it through and handed the paper to the
+Archbishop, remarking: "That is rather cleverly put, is it not?"
+
+One day there appeared in the town a leaflet, headed: "The Mystery
+of the Annunciation." Even had the author omitted his now familiar
+signature, a sketch of a gadfly with spread wings, the bitter, trenchant
+style would have left in the minds of most readers no doubt as to his
+identity. The skit was in the form of a dialogue between Tuscany as
+the Virgin Mary, and Montanelli as the angel who, bearing the lilies of
+purity and crowned with the olive branch of peace, was announcing the
+advent of the Jesuits. The whole thing was full of offensive personal
+allusions and hints of the most risky nature, and all Florence felt the
+satire to be both ungenerous and unfair. And yet all Florence laughed.
+There was something so irresistible in the Gadfly's grave absurdities
+that those who most disapproved of and disliked him laughed as
+immoderately at all his squibs as did his warmest partisans. Repulsive
+in tone as the leaflet was, it left its trace upon the popular feeling
+of the town. Montanelli's personal reputation stood too high for any
+lampoon, however witty, seriously to injure it, but for a moment the
+tide almost turned against him. The Gadfly had known where to sting;
+and, though eager crowds still collected before the Cardinal's house
+to see him enter or leave his carriage, ominous cries of "Jesuit!" and
+"Sanfedist spy!" often mingled with the cheers and benedictions.
+
+But Montanelli had no lack of supporters. Two days after the publication
+of the skit, the Churchman, a leading clerical paper, brought out
+a brilliant article, called: "An Answer to 'The Mystery of the
+Annunciation,'" and signed: "A Son of the Church." It was an impassioned
+defence of Montanelli against the Gadfly's slanderous imputations. The
+anonymous writer, after expounding, with great eloquence and fervour,
+the doctrine of peace on earth and good will towards men, of which the
+new Pontiff was the evangelist, concluded by challenging the Gadfly
+to prove a single one of his assertions, and solemnly appealing to the
+public not to believe a contemptible slanderer. Both the cogency of
+the article as a bit of special pleading and its merit as a literary
+composition were sufficiently far above the average to attract much
+attention in the town, especially as not even the editor of the
+newspaper could guess the author's identity. The article was soon
+reprinted separately in pamphlet form; and the "anonymous defender" was
+discussed in every coffee-shop in Florence.
+
+The Gadfly responded with a violent attack on the new Pontificate and
+all its supporters, especially on Montanelli, who, he cautiously
+hinted, had probably consented to the panegyric on himself. To this
+the anonymous defender again replied in the Churchman with an indignant
+denial. During the rest of Montanelli's stay the controversy raging
+between the two writers occupied more of the public attention than did
+even the famous preacher himself.
+
+Some members of the liberal party ventured to remonstrate with the
+Gadfly about the unnecessary malice of his tone towards Montanelli; but
+they did not get much satisfaction out of him. He only smiled affably
+and answered with a languid little stammer: "R-really, gentlemen, you
+are rather unfair. I expressly stipulated, when I gave in to Signora
+Bolla, that I should be allowed a l-l-little chuckle all to myself now.
+It is so nominated in the bond!"
+
+At the end of October Montanelli returned to his see in the Romagna,
+and, before leaving Florence, preached a farewell sermon in which he
+spoke of the controversy, gently deprecating the vehemence of both
+writers and begging his unknown defender to set an example of tolerance
+by closing a useless and unseemly war of words. On the following day the
+Churchman contained a notice that, at Monsignor Montanelli's publicly
+expressed desire, "A Son of the Church" would withdraw from the
+controversy.
+
+The last word remained with the Gadfly. He issued a little leaflet,
+in which he declared himself disarmed and converted by Montanelli's
+Christian meekness and ready to weep tears of reconciliation upon the
+neck of the first Sanfedist he met. "I am even willing," he concluded;
+"to embrace my anonymous challenger himself; and if my readers knew, as
+his Eminence and I know, what that implies and why he remains anonymous,
+they would believe in the sincerity of my conversion."
+
+In the latter part of November he announced to the literary committee
+that he was going for a fortnight's holiday to the seaside. He went,
+apparently, to Leghorn; but Dr. Riccardo, going there soon after and
+wishing to speak to him, searched the town for him in vain. On the 5th
+of December a political demonstration of the most extreme character
+burst out in the States of the Church, along the whole chain of the
+Apennines; and people began to guess the reason of the Gadfly's sudden
+fancy to take his holidays in the depth of winter. He came back to
+Florence when the riots had been quelled, and, meeting Riccardo in the
+street, remarked affably:
+
+"I hear you were inquiring for me in Leghorn; I was staying in Pisa.
+What a pretty old town it is! There's something quite Arcadian about
+it."
+
+In Christmas week he attended an afternoon meeting of the literary
+committee which was held in Dr. Riccardo's lodgings near the Porta alla
+Croce. The meeting was a full one, and when he came in, a little late,
+with an apologetic bow and smile, there seemed to be no seat empty.
+Riccardo rose to fetch a chair from the next room, but the Gadfly
+stopped him. "Don't trouble about it," he said; "I shall be quite
+comfortable here"; and crossing the room to a window beside which
+Gemma had placed her chair, he sat down on the sill, leaning his head
+indolently back against the shutter.
+
+As he looked down at Gemma, smiling with half-shut eyes, in the subtle,
+sphinx-like way that gave him the look of a Leonardo da Vinci portrait,
+the instinctive distrust with which he inspired her deepened into a
+sense of unreasoning fear.
+
+The proposal under discussion was that a pamphlet be issued setting
+forth the committee's views on the dearth with which Tuscany was
+threatened and the measures which should be taken to meet it. The
+matter was a somewhat difficult one to decide, because, as usual, the
+committee's views upon the subject were much divided. The more advanced
+section, to which Gemma, Martini, and Riccardo belonged, was in favour
+of an energetic appeal to both government and public to take adequate
+measures at once for the relief of the peasantry. The moderate
+division--including, of course, Grassini--feared that an over-emphatic
+tone might irritate rather than convince the ministry.
+
+"It is all very well, gentlemen, to want the people helped at once," he
+said, looking round upon the red-hot radicals with his calm and pitying
+air. "We most of us want a good many things that we are not likely to
+get; but if we start with the tone you propose to adopt, the government
+is very likely not to begin any relief measures at all till there is
+actual famine. If we could only induce the ministry to make an inquiry
+into the state of the crops it would be a step in advance."
+
+Galli, in his corner by the stove, jumped up to answer his enemy.
+
+"A step in advance--yes, my dear sir; but if there's going to be a
+famine, it won't wait for us to advance at that pace. The people might
+all starve before we got to any actual relief."
+
+"It would be interesting to know----" Sacconi began; but several voices
+interrupted him.
+
+"Speak up; we can't hear!"
+
+"I should think not, with such an infernal row in the street," said
+Galli, irritably. "Is that window shut, Riccardo? One can't hear one's
+self speak!"
+
+Gemma looked round. "Yes," she said, "the window is quite shut. I think
+there is a variety show, or some such thing, passing."
+
+The sounds of shouting and laughter, of the tinkling of bells and
+trampling of feet, resounded from the street below, mixed with the
+braying of a villainous brass band and the unmerciful banging of a drum.
+
+"It can't be helped these few days," said Riccardo; "we must expect
+noise at Christmas time. What were you saying, Sacconi?"
+
+"I said it would be interesting to hear what is thought about the matter
+in Pisa and Leghorn. Perhaps Signor Rivarez can tell us something; he
+has just come from there."
+
+The Gadfly did not answer. He was staring out of the window and appeared
+not to have heard what had been said.
+
+"Signor Rivarez!" said Gemma. She was the only person sitting near to
+him, and as he remained silent she bent forward and touched him on the
+arm. He slowly turned his face to her, and she started as she saw its
+fixed and awful immobility. For a moment it was like the face of a
+corpse; then the lips moved in a strange, lifeless way.
+
+"Yes," he whispered; "a variety show."
+
+Her first instinct was to shield him from the curiosity of the others.
+Without understanding what was the matter with him, she realized that
+some frightful fancy or hallucination had seized upon him, and that, for
+the moment, he was at its mercy, body and soul. She rose quickly and,
+standing between him and the company, threw the window open as if to
+look out. No one but herself had seen his face.
+
+In the street a travelling circus was passing, with mountebanks on
+donkeys and harlequins in parti-coloured dresses. The crowd of holiday
+masqueraders, laughing and shoving, was exchanging jests and showers of
+paper ribbon with the clowns and flinging little bags of sugar-plums to
+the columbine, who sat in her car, tricked out in tinsel and feathers,
+with artificial curls on her forehead and an artificial smile on her
+painted lips. Behind the car came a motley string of figures--street
+Arabs, beggars, clowns turning somersaults, and costermongers hawking
+their wares. They were jostling, pelting, and applauding a figure which
+at first Gemma could not see for the pushing and swaying of the crowd.
+The next moment, however, she saw plainly what it was--a hunchback,
+dwarfish and ugly, grotesquely attired in a fool's dress, with paper
+cap and bells. He evidently belonged to the strolling company, and was
+amusing the crowd with hideous grimaces and contortions.
+
+"What is going on out there?" asked Riccardo, approaching the window.
+"You seem very much interested."
+
+He was a little surprised at their keeping the whole committee waiting
+to look at a strolling company of mountebanks. Gemma turned round.
+
+"It is nothing interesting," she said; "only a variety show; but they
+made such a noise that I thought it must be something else."
+
+She was standing with one hand upon the window-sill, and suddenly felt
+the Gadfly's cold fingers press the hand with a passionate clasp. "Thank
+you!" he whispered softly; and then, closing the window, sat down again
+upon the sill.
+
+"I'm afraid," he said in his airy manner, "that I have interrupted you,
+gentlemen. I was l-looking at the variety show; it is s-such a p-pretty
+sight."
+
+"Sacconi was asking you a question," said Martini gruffly. The Gadfly's
+behaviour seemed to him an absurd piece of affectation, and he was
+annoyed that Gemma should have been tactless enough to follow his
+example. It was not like her.
+
+The Gadfly disclaimed all knowledge of the state of feeling in Pisa,
+explaining that he had been there "only on a holiday." He then plunged
+at once into an animated discussion, first of agricultural prospects,
+then of the pamphlet question; and continued pouring out a flood of
+stammering talk till the others were quite tired. He seemed to find some
+feverish delight in the sound of his own voice.
+
+When the meeting ended and the members of the committee rose to go,
+Riccardo came up to Martini.
+
+"Will you stop to dinner with me? Fabrizi and Sacconi have promised to
+stay."
+
+"Thanks; but I was going to see Signora Bolla home."
+
+"Are you really afraid I can't get home by myself?" she asked, rising
+and putting on her wrap. "Of course he will stay with you, Dr. Riccardo;
+it's good for him to get a change. He doesn't go out half enough."
+
+"If you will allow me, I will see you home," the Gadfly interposed; "I
+am going in that direction."
+
+"If you really are going that way----"
+
+"I suppose you won't have time to drop in here in the course of the
+evening, will you, Rivarez?" asked Riccardo, as he opened the door for
+them.
+
+The Gadfly looked back over his shoulder, laughing. "I, my dear fellow?
+I'm going to see the variety show!"
+
+"What a strange creature that is; and what an odd affection for
+mountebanks!" said Riccardo, coming back to his visitors.
+
+"Case of a fellow-feeling, I should think," said Martini; "the man's a
+mountebank himself, if ever I saw one."
+
+"I wish I could think he was only that," Fabrizi interposed, with a
+grave face. "If he is a mountebank I am afraid he's a very dangerous
+one."
+
+"Dangerous in what way?"
+
+"Well, I don't like those mysterious little pleasure trips that he is so
+fond of taking. This is the third time, you know; and I don't believe he
+has been in Pisa at all."
+
+"I suppose it is almost an open secret that it's into the mountains he
+goes," said Sacconi. "He has hardly taken the trouble to deny that he
+is still in relations with the smugglers he got to know in the Savigno
+affair, and it's quite natural he should take advantage of their
+friendship to get his leaflets across the Papal frontier."
+
+"For my part," said Riccardo; "what I wanted to talk to you about is
+this very question. It occurred to me that we could hardly do better
+than ask Rivarez to undertake the management of our own smuggling. That
+press at Pistoja is very inefficiently managed, to my thinking; and the
+way the leaflets are taken across, always rolled in those everlasting
+cigars, is more than primitive."
+
+"It has answered pretty well up till now," said Martini contumaciously.
+He was getting wearied of hearing Galli and Riccardo always put the
+Gadfly forward as a model to copy, and inclined to think that the world
+had gone well enough before this "lackadaisical buccaneer" turned up to
+set everyone to rights.
+
+"It has answered so far well that we have been satisfied with it for
+want of anything better; but you know there have been plenty of arrests
+and confiscations. Now I believe that if Rivarez undertook the business
+for us, there would be less of that."
+
+"Why do you think so?"
+
+"In the first place, the smugglers look upon us as strangers to do
+business with, or as sheep to fleece, whereas Rivarez is their personal
+friend, very likely their leader, whom they look up to and trust. You
+may be sure every smuggler in the Apennines will do for a man who was
+in the Savigno revolt what he will not do for us. In the next place,
+there's hardly a man among us that knows the mountains as Rivarez does.
+Remember, he has been a fugitive among them, and knows the smugglers'
+paths by heart. No smuggler would dare to cheat him, even if he wished
+to, and no smuggler could cheat him if he dared to try."
+
+"Then is your proposal that we should ask him to take over the
+whole management of our literature on the other side of the
+frontier--distribution, addresses, hiding-places, everything--or simply
+that we should ask him to put the things across for us?"
+
+"Well, as for addresses and hiding-places, he probably knows already
+all the ones that we have and a good many more that we have not. I
+don't suppose we should be able to teach him much in that line. As
+for distribution, it's as the others prefer, of course. The important
+question, to my mind, is the actual smuggling itself. Once the books are
+safe in Bologna, it's a comparatively simple matter to circulate them."
+
+"For my part," said Martini, "I am against the plan. In the first place,
+all this about his skilfulness is mere conjecture; we have not actually
+seen him engaged in frontier work and do not know whether he keeps his
+head in critical moments."
+
+"Oh, you needn't have any doubt of that!" Riccardo put in. "The history
+of the Savigno affair proves that he keeps his head."
+
+"And then," Martini went on; "I do not feel at all inclined, from what
+little I know of Rivarez, to intrust him with all the party's secrets.
+He seems to me feather-brained and theatrical. To give the whole
+management of a party's contraband work into a man's hands is a serious
+matter. Fabrizi, what do you think?"
+
+"If I had only such objections as yours, Martini," replied the
+professor, "I should certainly waive them in the case of a man really
+possessing, as Rivarez undoubtedly does, all the qualifications Riccardo
+speaks of. For my part, I have not the slightest doubt as to either his
+courage, his honesty, or his presence of mind; and that he knows both
+mountains and mountaineers we have had ample proof. But there is another
+objection. I do not feel sure that it is only for the smuggling of
+pamphlets he goes into the mountains. I have begun to doubt whether he
+has not another purpose. This is, of course, entirely between ourselves.
+It is a mere suspicion. It seems to me just possible that he is in
+connexion with some one of the 'sects,' and perhaps with the most
+dangerous of them."
+
+"Which one do you mean--the 'Red Girdles'?"
+
+"No; the 'Occoltellatori.'"
+
+"The 'Knifers'! But that is a little body of outlaws--peasants, most of
+them, with neither education nor political experience."
+
+"So were the insurgents of Savigno; but they had a few educated men as
+leaders, and this little society may have the same. And remember, it's
+pretty well known that most of the members of those more violent sects
+in the Romagna are survivors of the Savigno affair, who found themselves
+too weak to fight the Churchmen in open insurrection, and so have fallen
+back on assassination. Their hands are not strong enough for guns, and
+they take to knives instead."
+
+"But what makes you suppose Rivarez to be connected with them?"
+
+"I don't suppose, I merely suspect. In any case, I think we had better
+find out for certain before we intrust our smuggling to him. If he
+attempted to do both kinds of work at once he would injure our party
+most terribly; he would simply destroy its reputation and accomplish
+nothing. However, we will talk of that another time. I wanted to speak
+to you about the news from Rome. It is said that a commission is to be
+appointed to draw up a project for a municipal constitution."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GEMMA and the Gadfly walked silently along the Lung'Arno. His feverish
+talkativeness seemed to have quite spent itself; he had hardly spoken a
+word since they left Riccardo's door, and Gemma was heartily glad of his
+silence. She always felt embarrassed in his company, and to-day more
+so than usual, for his strange behaviour at the committee meeting had
+greatly perplexed her.
+
+By the Uffizi palace he suddenly stopped and turned to her.
+
+"Are you tired?"
+
+"No; why?"
+
+"Nor especially busy this evening?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I want to ask a favour of you; I want you to come for a walk with me."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"Nowhere in particular; anywhere you like."
+
+"But what for?"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"I--can't tell you--at least, it's very difficult; but please come if
+you can."
+
+He raised his eyes suddenly from the ground, and she saw how strange
+their expression was.
+
+"There is something the matter with you," she said gently. He pulled a
+leaf from the flower in his button-hole, and began tearing it to pieces.
+Who was it that he was so oddly like? Someone who had that same trick of
+the fingers and hurried, nervous gesture.
+
+"I am in trouble," he said, looking down at his hands and speaking in a
+hardly audible voice. "I--don't want to be alone this evening. Will you
+come?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, unless you would rather go to my lodgings."
+
+"No; come and dine with me at a restaurant. There's one on the Signoria.
+Please don't refuse, now; you've promised!"
+
+They went into a restaurant, where he ordered dinner, but hardly touched
+his own share, and remained obstinately silent, crumbling the bread over
+the cloth, and fidgeting with the fringe of his table napkin. Gemma felt
+thoroughly uncomfortable, and began to wish she had refused to come; the
+silence was growing awkward; yet she could not begin to make small-talk
+with a person who seemed to have forgotten her presence. At last he
+looked up and said abruptly:
+
+"Would you like to see the variety show?"
+
+She stared at him in astonishment. What had he got into his head about
+variety shows?
+
+"Have you ever seen one?" he asked before she had time to speak.
+
+"No; I don't think so. I didn't suppose they were interesting."
+
+"They are very interesting. I don't think anyone can study the life of
+the people without seeing them. Let us go back to the Porta alla Croce."
+
+When they arrived the mountebanks had set up their tent beside the
+town gate, and an abominable scraping of fiddles and banging of drums
+announced that the performance had begun.
+
+The entertainment was of the roughest kind. A few clowns, harlequins,
+and acrobats, a circus-rider jumping through hoops, the painted
+columbine, and the hunchback performing various dull and foolish antics,
+represented the entire force of the company. The jokes were not, on the
+whole, coarse or offensive; but they were very tame and stale, and there
+was a depressing flatness about the whole thing. The audience laughed
+and clapped from their innate Tuscan courtesy; but the only part which
+they seemed really to enjoy was the performance of the hunchback, in
+which Gemma could find nothing either witty or skilful. It was merely
+a series of grotesque and hideous contortions, which the spectators
+mimicked, holding up children on their shoulders that the little ones
+might see the "ugly man."
+
+"Signor Rivarez, do you really think this attractive?" said Gemma,
+turning to the Gadfly, who was standing beside her, his arm round one of
+the wooden posts of the tent. "It seems to me----"
+
+She broke off and remained looking at him silently. Except when she had
+stood with Montanelli at the garden gate in Leghorn, she had never seen
+a human face express such fathomless, hopeless misery. She thought of
+Dante's hell as she watched him.
+
+Presently the hunchback, receiving a kick from one of the clowns,
+turned a somersault and tumbled in a grotesque heap outside the ring. A
+dialogue between two clowns began, and the Gadfly seemed to wake out of
+a dream.
+
+"Shall we go?" he asked; "or would you like to see more?"
+
+"I would rather go."
+
+They left the tent, and walked across the dark green to the river. For a
+few moments neither spoke.
+
+"What did you think of the show?" the Gadfly asked presently.
+
+"I thought it rather a dreary business; and part of it seemed to me
+positively unpleasant."
+
+"Which part?"
+
+"Well, all those grimaces and contortions. They are simply ugly; there
+is nothing clever about them."
+
+"Do you mean the hunchback's performance?"
+
+Remembering his peculiar sensitiveness on the subject of his own
+physical defects, she had avoided mentioning this particular bit of the
+entertainment; but now that he had touched upon the subject himself, she
+answered: "Yes; I did not like that part at all."
+
+"That was the part the people enjoyed most."
+
+"I dare say; and that is just the worst thing about it."
+
+"Because it was inartistic?"
+
+"N-no; it was all inartistic. I meant--because it was cruel."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"Cruel? Do you mean to the hunchback?"
+
+"I mean---- Of course the man himself was quite indifferent; no doubt,
+it is to him just a way of getting a living, like the circus-rider's
+way or the columbine's. But the thing makes one feel unhappy. It is
+humiliating; it is the degradation of a human being."
+
+"He probably is not any more degraded than he was to start with. Most of
+us are degraded in one way or another."
+
+"Yes; but this--I dare say you will think it an absurd prejudice; but
+a human body, to me, is a sacred thing; I don't like to see it treated
+irreverently and made hideous."
+
+"And a human soul?"
+
+He had stopped short, and was standing with one hand on the stone
+balustrade of the embankment, looking straight at her.
+
+"A soul?" she repeated, stopping in her turn to look at him in wonder.
+
+He flung out both hands with a sudden, passionate gesture.
+
+"Has it never occurred to you that that miserable clown may have a
+soul--a living, struggling, human soul, tied down into that crooked hulk
+of a body and forced to slave for it? You that are so tender-hearted to
+everything--you that pity the body in its fool's dress and bells--have
+you never thought of the wretched soul that has not even motley to cover
+its horrible nakedness? Think of it shivering with cold, stilled with
+shame and misery, before all those people--feeling their jeers that cut
+like a whip--their laughter, that burns like red-hot iron on the bare
+flesh! Think of it looking round--so helpless before them all--for the
+mountains that will not fall on it--for the rocks that have not the
+heart to cover it--envying the rats that can creep into some hole in the
+earth and hide; and remember that a soul is dumb--it has no voice to cry
+out--it must endure, and endure, and endure. Oh! I'm talking nonsense!
+Why on earth don't you laugh? You have no sense of humour!"
+
+Slowly and in dead silence she turned and walked on along the river
+side. During the whole evening it had not once occurred to her to
+connect his trouble, whatever it might be, with the variety show; and
+now that some dim picture of his inner life had been revealed to her by
+this sudden outburst, she could not find, in her overwhelming pity for
+him, one word to say. He walked on beside her, with his head turned
+away, and looked into the water.
+
+"I want you, please, to understand," he began suddenly, turning to her
+with a defiant air, "that everything I have just been saying to you is
+pure imagination. I'm rather given to romancing, but I don't like people
+to take it seriously."
+
+She made no answer, and they walked on in silence. As they passed by the
+gateway of the Uffizi, he crossed the road and stooped down over a dark
+bundle that was lying against the railings.
+
+"What is the matter, little one?" he asked, more gently than she had
+ever heard him speak. "Why don't you go home?"
+
+The bundle moved, and answered something in a low, moaning voice. Gemma
+came across to look, and saw a child of about six years old, ragged and
+dirty, crouching on the pavement like a frightened animal. The Gadfly
+was bending down with his hand on the unkempt head.
+
+"What is it?" he said, stooping lower to catch the unintelligible
+answer. "You ought to go home to bed; little boys have no business out
+of doors at night; you'll be quite frozen! Give me your hand and jump up
+like a man! Where do you live?"
+
+He took the child's arm to raise him. The result was a sharp scream and
+a quick shrinking away.
+
+"Why, what is it?" the Gadfly asked, kneeling down on the pavement. "Ah!
+Signora, look here!"
+
+The child's shoulder and jacket were covered with blood.
+
+"Tell me what has happened?" the Gadfly went on caressingly. "It wasn't
+a fall, was it? No? Someone's been beating you? I thought so! Who was
+it?"
+
+"My uncle."
+
+"Ah, yes! And when was it?"
+
+"This morning. He was drunk, and I--I----"
+
+"And you got in his way--was that it? You shouldn't get in people's way
+when they are drunk, little man; they don't like it. What shall we do
+with this poor mite, signora? Come here to the light, sonny, and let
+me look at that shoulder. Put your arm round my neck; I won't hurt you.
+There we are!"
+
+He lifted the boy in his arms, and, carrying him across the street, set
+him down on the wide stone balustrade. Then, taking out a pocket-knife,
+he deftly ripped up the torn sleeve, supporting the child's head against
+his breast, while Gemma held the injured arm. The shoulder was badly
+bruised and grazed, and there was a deep gash on the arm.
+
+"That's an ugly cut to give a mite like you," said the Gadfly, fastening
+his handkerchief round the wound to prevent the jacket from rubbing
+against it. "What did he do it with?"
+
+"The shovel. I went to ask him to give me a soldo to get some polenta at
+the corner shop, and he hit me with the shovel."
+
+The Gadfly shuddered. "Ah!" he said softly, "that hurts; doesn't it,
+little one?"
+
+"He hit me with the shovel--and I ran away--I ran away--because he hit
+me."
+
+"And you've been wandering about ever since, without any dinner?"
+
+Instead of answering, the child began to sob violently. The Gadfly
+lifted him off the balustrade.
+
+"There, there! We'll soon set all that straight. I wonder if we can
+get a cab anywhere. I'm afraid they'll all be waiting by the theatre;
+there's a grand performance going on to-night. I am sorry to drag you
+about so, signora; but----"
+
+"I would rather come with you. You may want help. Do you think you can
+carry him so far? Isn't he very heavy?"
+
+"Oh, I can manage, thank you."
+
+At the theatre door they found only a few cabs waiting, and these were
+all engaged. The performance was over, and most of the audience had
+gone. Zita's name was printed in large letters on the wall-placards; she
+had been dancing in the ballet. Asking Gemma to wait for him a moment,
+the Gadfly went round to the performers' entrance, and spoke to an
+attendant.
+
+"Has Mme. Reni gone yet?"
+
+"No, sir," the man answered, staring blankly at the spectacle of a
+well-dressed gentleman carrying a ragged street child in his arms, "Mme.
+Reni is just coming out, I think; her carriage is waiting for her. Yes;
+there she comes."
+
+Zita descended the stairs, leaning on the arm of a young cavalry
+officer. She looked superbly handsome, with an opera cloak of
+flame-coloured velvet thrown over her evening dress, and a great fan of
+ostrich plumes hanging from her waist. In the entry she stopped short,
+and, drawing her hand away from the officer's arm, approached the Gadfly
+in amazement.
+
+"Felice!" she exclaimed under her breath, "what HAVE you got there?"
+
+"I have picked up this child in the street. It is hurt and starving; and
+I want to get it home as quickly as possible. There is not a cab to be
+got anywhere, so I want to have your carriage."
+
+"Felice! you are not going to take a horrid beggar-child into your
+rooms! Send for a policeman, and let him carry it to the Refuge or
+whatever is the proper place for it. You can't have all the paupers in
+the town----"
+
+"It is hurt," the Gadfly repeated; "it can go to the Refuge to-morrow,
+if necessary, but I must see to the child first and give it some food."
+
+Zita made a little grimace of disgust. "You've got its head right
+against your shirt! How CAN you? It is dirty!"
+
+The Gadfly looked up with a sudden flash of anger.
+
+"It is hungry," he said fiercely. "You don't know what that means, do
+you?"
+
+"Signor Rivarez," interposed Gemma, coming forward, "my lodgings are
+quite close. Let us take the child in there. Then, if you cannot find a
+vettura, I will manage to put it up for the night."
+
+He turned round quickly. "You don't mind?"
+
+"Of course not. Good-night, Mme. Reni!"
+
+The gipsy, with a stiff bow and an angry shrug of her shoulders, took
+her officer's arm again, and, gathering up the train of her dress, swept
+past them to the contested carriage.
+
+"I will send it back to fetch you and the child, if you like, M.
+Rivarez," she said, pausing on the doorstep.
+
+"Very well; I will give the address." He came out on to the pavement,
+gave the address to the driver, and walked back to Gemma with his
+burden.
+
+Katie was waiting up for her mistress; and, on hearing what had
+happened, ran for warm water and other necessaries. Placing the child on
+a chair, the Gadfly knelt down beside him, and, deftly slipping off
+the ragged clothing, bathed and bandaged the wound with tender, skilful
+hands. He had just finished washing the boy, and was wrapping him in a
+warm blanket, when Gemma came in with a tray in her hands.
+
+"Is your patient ready for his supper?" she asked, smiling at the
+strange little figure. "I have been cooking it for him."
+
+The Gadfly stood up and rolled the dirty rags together. "I'm afraid we
+have made a terrible mess in your room," he said. "As for these, they
+had better go straight into the fire, and I will buy him some new
+clothes to-morrow. Have you any brandy in the house, signora? I think
+he ought to have a little. I will just wash my hands, if you will allow
+me."
+
+When the child had finished his supper, he immediately went to sleep in
+the Gadfly's arms, with his rough head against the white shirt-front.
+Gemma, who had been helping Katie to set the disordered room tidy again,
+sat down at the table.
+
+"Signor Rivarez, you must take something before you go home--you had
+hardly any dinner, and it's very late."
+
+"I should like a cup of tea in the English fashion, if you have it. I'm
+sorry to keep you up so late."
+
+"Oh! that doesn't matter. Put the child down on the sofa; he will tire
+you. Wait a minute; I will just lay a sheet over the cushions. What are
+you going to do with him?"
+
+"To-morrow? Find out whether he has any other relations except that
+drunken brute; and if not, I suppose I must follow Mme. Reni's advice,
+and take him to the Refuge. Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to
+put a stone round his neck and pitch him into the river there; but that
+would expose me to unpleasant consequences. Fast asleep! What an odd
+little lump of ill-luck you are, you mite--not half as capable of
+defending yourself as a stray cat!"
+
+When Katie brought in the tea-tray, the boy opened his eyes and sat up
+with a bewildered air. Recognizing the Gadfly, whom he already regarded
+as his natural protector, he wriggled off the sofa, and, much encumbered
+by the folds of his blanket, came up to nestle against him. He was
+by now sufficiently revived to be inquisitive; and, pointing to the
+mutilated left hand, in which the Gadfly was holding a piece of cake,
+asked:
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"That? Cake; do you want some? I think you've had enough for now. Wait
+till to-morrow, little man."
+
+"No--that!" He stretched out his hand and touched the stumps of the
+amputated fingers and the great scar on the wrist. The Gadfly put down
+his cake.
+
+"Oh, that! It's the same sort of thing as what you have on your
+shoulder--a hit I got from someone stronger than I was."
+
+"Didn't it hurt awfully?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know--not more than other things. There, now, go to sleep
+again; you have no business asking questions at this time of night."
+
+When the carriage arrived the boy was again asleep; and the Gadfly,
+without awaking him, lifted him gently and carried him out on to the
+stairs.
+
+"You have been a sort of ministering angel to me to-day," he said to
+Gemma, pausing at the door. "But I suppose that need not prevent us from
+quarrelling to our heart's content in future."
+
+"I have no desire to quarrel with anyone."
+
+"Ah! but I have. Life would be unendurable without quarrels. A good
+quarrel is the salt of the earth; it's better than a variety show!"
+
+And with that he went downstairs, laughing softly to himself, with the
+sleeping child in his arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ONE day in the first week of January Martini, who had sent round
+the forms of invitation to the monthly group-meeting of the literary
+committee, received from the Gadfly a laconic, pencil-scrawled "Very
+sorry: can't come." He was a little annoyed, as a notice of "important
+business" had been put into the invitation; this cavalier treatment
+seemed to him almost insolent. Moreover, three separate letters
+containing bad news arrived during the day, and the wind was in the
+east, so that Martini felt out of sorts and out of temper; and when, at
+the group meeting, Dr. Riccardo asked, "Isn't Rivarez here?" he answered
+rather sulkily: "No; he seems to have got something more interesting on
+hand, and can't come, or doesn't want to."
+
+"Really, Martini," said Galli irritably, "you are about the most
+prejudiced person in Florence. Once you object to a man, everything he
+does is wrong. How could Rivarez come when he's ill?"
+
+"Who told you he was ill?"
+
+"Didn't you know? He's been laid up for the last four days."
+
+"What's the matter with him?"
+
+"I don't know. He had to put off an appointment with me on Thursday on
+account of illness; and last night, when I went round, I heard that he
+was too ill to see anyone. I thought Riccardo would be looking after
+him."
+
+"I knew nothing about it. I'll go round to-night and see if he wants
+anything."
+
+The next morning Riccardo, looking very pale and tired, came into
+Gemma's little study. She was sitting at the table, reading out
+monotonous strings of figures to Martini, who, with a magnifying glass
+in one hand and a finely pointed pencil in the other, was making
+tiny marks in the pages of a book. She made with one hand a gesture
+requesting silence. Riccardo, knowing that a person who is writing in
+cipher must not be interrupted, sat down on the sofa behind her and
+yawned like a man who can hardly keep awake.
+
+"2, 4; 3, 7; 6, 1; 3, 5; 4, 1;" Gemma's voice went on with machine-like
+evenness. "8, 4; 7, 2; 5, 1; that finishes the sentence, Cesare."
+
+She stuck a pin into the paper to mark the exact place, and turned
+round.
+
+"Good-morning, doctor; how fagged you look! Are you well?"
+
+"Oh, I'm well enough--only tired out. I've had an awful night with
+Rivarez."
+
+"With Rivarez?"
+
+"Yes; I've been up with him all night, and now I must go off to my
+hospital patients. I just came round to know whether you can think of
+anyone that could look after him a bit for the next few days. He's in a
+devil of a state. I'll do my best, of course; but I really haven't the
+time; and he won't hear of my sending in a nurse."
+
+"What is the matter with him?"
+
+"Well, rather a complication of things. First of all----"
+
+"First of all, have you had any breakfast?"
+
+"Yes, thank you. About Rivarez--no doubt, it's complicated with a lot of
+nerve trouble; but the main cause of disturbance is an old injury
+that seems to have been disgracefully neglected. Altogether, he's in
+a frightfully knocked-about state; I suppose it was that war in South
+America--and he certainly didn't get proper care when the mischief was
+done. Probably things were managed in a very rough-and-ready fashion
+out there; he's lucky to be alive at all. However, there's a chronic
+tendency to inflammation, and any trifle may bring on an attack----"
+
+"Is that dangerous?"
+
+"N-no; the chief danger in a case of that kind is of the patient getting
+desperate and taking a dose of arsenic."
+
+"It is very painful, of course?"
+
+"It's simply horrible; I don't know how he manages to bear it. I was
+obliged to stupefy him with opium in the night--a thing I hate to do
+with a nervous patient; but I had to stop it somehow."
+
+"He is nervous, I should think."
+
+"Very, but splendidly plucky. As long as he was not actually
+light-headed with the pain last night, his coolness was quite wonderful.
+But I had an awful job with him towards the end. How long do you suppose
+this thing has been going on? Just five nights; and not a soul within
+call except that stupid landlady, who wouldn't wake if the house tumbled
+down, and would be no use if she did."
+
+"But what about the ballet-girl?"
+
+"Yes; isn't that a curious thing? He won't let her come near him. He
+has a morbid horror of her. Altogether, he's one of the most
+incomprehensible creatures I ever met--a perfect mass of
+contradictions."
+
+He took out his watch and looked at it with a preoccupied face. "I shall
+be late at the hospital; but it can't be helped. The junior will have
+to begin without me for once. I wish I had known of all this before--it
+ought not to have been let go on that way night after night."
+
+"But why on earth didn't he send to say he was ill?" Martini
+interrupted. "He might have guessed we shouldn't have left him stranded
+in that fashion."
+
+"I wish, doctor," said Gemma, "that you had sent for one of us last
+night, instead of wearing yourself out like this."
+
+"My dear lady, I wanted to send round to Galli; but Rivarez got so
+frantic at the suggestion that I didn't dare attempt it. When I asked
+him whether there was anyone else he would like fetched, he looked at me
+for a minute, as if he were scared out of his wits, and then put up
+both hands to his eyes and said: 'Don't tell them; they will laugh!'
+He seemed quite possessed with some fancy about people laughing at
+something. I couldn't make out what; he kept talking Spanish; but
+patients do say the oddest things sometimes."
+
+"Who is with him now?" asked Gemma.
+
+"No one except the landlady and her maid."
+
+"I'll go to him at once," said Martini.
+
+"Thank you. I'll look round again in the evening. You'll find a paper
+of written directions in the table-drawer by the large window, and the
+opium is on the shelf in the next room. If the pain comes on again, give
+him another dose--not more than one; but don't leave the bottle where he
+can get at it, whatever you do; he might be tempted to take too much."
+
+When Martini entered the darkened room, the Gadfly turned his head
+round quickly, and, holding out to him a burning hand, began, in a bad
+imitation of his usual flippant manner:
+
+"Ah, Martini! You have come to rout me out about those proofs. It's no
+use swearing at me for missing the committee last night; the fact is, I
+have not been quite well, and----"
+
+"Never mind the committee. I have just seen Riccardo, and have come to
+know if I can be of any use."
+
+The Gadfly set his face like a flint.
+
+"Oh, really! that is very kind of you; but it wasn't worth the trouble.
+I'm only a little out of sorts."
+
+"So I understood from Riccardo. He was up with you all night, I
+believe."
+
+The Gadfly bit his lip savagely.
+
+"I am quite comfortable, thank you, and don't want anything."
+
+"Very well; then I will sit in the other room; perhaps you would rather
+be alone. I will leave the door ajar, in case you call me."
+
+"Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't want anything. I should
+be wasting your time for nothing."
+
+"Nonsense, man!" Martini broke in roughly. "What's the use of trying
+to fool me that way? Do you think I have no eyes? Lie still and go to
+sleep, if you can."
+
+He went into the adjoining room, and, leaving the door open, sat down
+with a book. Presently he heard the Gadfly move restlessly two or three
+times. He put down his book and listened. There was a short silence,
+then another restless movement; then the quick, heavy, panting breath
+of a man clenching his teeth to suppress a groan. He went back into the
+room.
+
+"Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?"
+
+There was no answer, and he crossed the room to the bed-side. The
+Gadfly, with a ghastly, livid face, looked at him for a moment, and
+silently shook his head.
+
+"Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo said you were to have it if
+the pain got very bad."
+
+"No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer. It may be worse later on."
+
+Martini shrugged his shoulders and sat down beside the bed. For an
+interminable hour he watched in silence; then he rose and fetched the
+opium.
+
+"Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if you can stand it, I
+can't. You must have the stuff."
+
+The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he turned away and closed
+his eyes. Martini sat down again, and listened as the breathing became
+gradually deep and even.
+
+The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake easily when once asleep. Hour
+after hour he lay absolutely motionless. Martini approached him several
+times during the day and evening, and looked at the still figure; but,
+except the breathing, there was no sign of life. The face was so wan and
+colourless that at last a sudden fear seized upon him; what if he had
+given too much opium? The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, and
+he shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did so, the unfastened
+sleeve fell back, showing a series of deep and fearful scars covering
+the arm from wrist to elbow.
+
+"That arm must have been in a pleasant condition when those marks were
+fresh," said Riccardo's voice behind him.
+
+"Ah, there you are at last! Look here, Riccardo; ought this man to sleep
+forever? I gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he hasn't moved a
+muscle since."
+
+Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment.
+
+"No; he is breathing quite properly; it's nothing but sheer
+exhaustion--what you might expect after such a night. There may be
+another paroxysm before morning. Someone will sit up, I hope?"
+
+"Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here by ten."
+
+"It's nearly that now. Ah, he's waking! Just see the maidservant gets
+that broth hot. Gently--gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn't
+fight, man; I'm not a bishop!"
+
+The Gadfly started up with a shrinking, scared look. "Is it my turn?" he
+said hurriedly in Spanish. "Keep the people amused a minute; I---- Ah! I
+didn't see you, Riccardo."
+
+He looked round the room and drew one hand across his forehead as if
+bewildered. "Martini! Why, I thought you had gone away. I must have been
+asleep."
+
+"You have been sleeping like the beauty in the fairy story for the last
+ten hours; and now you are to have some broth and go to sleep again."
+
+"Ten hours! Martini, surely you haven't been here all that time?"
+
+"Yes; I was beginning to wonder whether I hadn't given you an overdose
+of opium."
+
+The Gadfly shot a sly glance at him.
+
+"No such luck! Wouldn't you have nice quiet committee-meetings? What
+the devil do you want, Riccardo? Do for mercy's sake leave me in peace,
+can't you? I hate being mauled about by doctors."
+
+"Well then, drink this and I'll leave you in peace. I shall come round
+in a day or two, though, and give you a thorough overhauling. I think
+you have pulled through the worst of this business now; you don't look
+quite so much like a death's head at a feast."
+
+"Oh, I shall be all right soon, thanks. Who's that--Galli? I seem to
+have a collection of all the graces here to-night."
+
+"I have come to stop the night with you."
+
+"Nonsense! I don't want anyone. Go home, all the lot of you. Even if
+the thing should come on again, you can't help me; I won't keep taking
+opium. It's all very well once in a way."
+
+"I'm afraid you're right," Riccardo said. "But that's not always an easy
+resolution to stick to."
+
+The Gadfly looked up, smiling. "No fear! If I'd been going in for that
+sort of thing, I should have done it long ago."
+
+"Anyway, you are not going to be left alone," Riccardo answered drily.
+"Come into the other room a minute, Galli; I want to speak to you.
+Good-night, Rivarez; I'll look in to-morrow."
+
+Martini was following them out of the room when he heard his name softly
+called. The Gadfly was holding out a hand to him.
+
+"Thank you!"
+
+"Oh, stuff! Go to sleep."
+
+When Riccardo had gone, Martini remained a few minutes in the outer
+room, talking with Galli. As he opened the front door of the house he
+heard a carriage stop at the garden gate and saw a woman's figure get
+out and come up the path. It was Zita, returning, evidently, from some
+evening entertainment. He lifted his hat and stood aside to let her
+pass, then went out into the dark lane leading from the house to the
+Poggio Imperiale. Presently the gate clicked and rapid footsteps came
+down the lane.
+
+"Wait a minute!" she said.
+
+When he turned back to meet her she stopped short, and then came slowly
+towards him, dragging one hand after her along the hedge. There was a
+single street-lamp at the corner, and he saw by its light that she was
+hanging her head down as though embarrassed or ashamed.
+
+"How is he?" she asked without looking up.
+
+"Much better than he was this morning. He has been asleep most of the
+day and seems less exhausted. I think the attack is passing over."
+
+She still kept her eyes on the ground.
+
+"Has it been very bad this time?"
+
+"About as bad as it can well be, I should think."
+
+"I thought so. When he won't let me come into the room, that always
+means it's bad."
+
+"Does he often have attacks like this?"
+
+"That depends---- It's so irregular. Last summer, in Switzerland, he was
+quite well; but the winter before, when we were in Vienna, it was awful.
+He wouldn't let me come near him for days together. He hates to have me
+about when he's ill."
+
+She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her eyes again, went on:
+
+"He always used to send me off to a ball, or concert, or something, on
+one pretext or another, when he felt it coming on. Then he would lock
+himself into his room. I used to slip back and sit outside the door--he
+would have been furious if he'd known. He'd let the dog come in if it
+whined, but not me. He cares more for it, I think."
+
+There was a curious, sullen defiance in her manner.
+
+"Well, I hope it won't be so bad any more," said Martini kindly. "Dr.
+Riccardo is taking the case seriously in hand. Perhaps he will be able
+to make a permanent improvement. And, in any case, the treatment gives
+relief at the moment. But you had better send to us at once, another
+time. He would have suffered very much less if we had known of it
+earlier. Good-night!"
+
+He held out his hand, but she drew back with a quick gesture of refusal.
+
+"I don't see why you want to shake hands with his mistress."
+
+"As you like, of course," he began in embarrassment.
+
+She stamped her foot on the ground. "I hate you!" she cried, turning on
+him with eyes like glowing coals. "I hate you all! You come here talking
+politics to him; and he lets you sit up the night with him and give him
+things to stop the pain, and I daren't so much as peep at him through
+the door! What is he to you? What right have you to come and steal him
+away from me? I hate you! I hate you! I HATE you!"
+
+She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting back into the
+garden, slammed the gate in his face.
+
+"Good Heavens!" said Martini to himself, as he walked down the lane.
+"That girl is actually in love with him! Of all the extraordinary
+things----"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE Gadfly's recovery was rapid. One afternoon in the following week
+Riccardo found him lying on the sofa in a Turkish dressing-gown,
+chatting with Martini and Galli. He even talked about going downstairs;
+but Riccardo merely laughed at the suggestion and asked whether he would
+like a tramp across the valley to Fiesole to start with.
+
+"You might go and call on the Grassinis for a change," he added
+wickedly. "I'm sure madame would be delighted to see you, especially
+now, when you look so pale and interesting."
+
+The Gadfly clasped his hands with a tragic gesture.
+
+"Bless my soul! I never thought of that! She'd take me for one of
+Italy's martyrs, and talk patriotism to me. I should have to act up to
+the part, and tell her I've been cut to pieces in an underground dungeon
+and stuck together again rather badly; and she'd want to know exactly
+what the process felt like. You don't think she'd believe it, Riccardo?
+I'll bet you my Indian dagger against the bottled tape-worm in your
+den that she'll swallow the biggest lie I can invent. That's a generous
+offer, and you'd better jump at it."
+
+"Thanks, I'm not so fond of murderous tools as you are."
+
+"Well, a tape-worm is as murderous as a dagger, any day, and not half so
+pretty."
+
+"But as it happens, my dear fellow, I don't want the dagger and I do
+want the tape-worm. Martini, I must run off. Are you in charge of this
+obstreperous patient?"
+
+"Only till three o'clock. Galli and I have to go to San Miniato, and
+Signora Bolla is coming till I can get back."
+
+"Signora Bolla!" the Gadfly repeated in a tone of dismay. "Why,
+Martini, this will never do! I can't have a lady bothered over me and my
+ailments. Besides, where is she to sit? She won't like to come in here."
+
+"Since when have you gone in so fiercely for the proprieties?" asked
+Riccardo, laughing. "My good man, Signora Bolla is head nurse in general
+to all of us. She has looked after sick people ever since she was in
+short frocks, and does it better than any sister of mercy I know. Won't
+like to come into your room! Why, you might be talking of the Grassini
+woman! I needn't leave any directions if she's coming, Martini. Heart
+alive, it's half-past two; I must be off!"
+
+"Now, Rivarez, take your physic before she comes," said Galli,
+approaching the sofa with a medicine glass.
+
+"Damn the physic!" The Gadfly had reached the irritable stage of
+convalescence, and was inclined to give his devoted nurses a bad time.
+"W-what do you want to d-d-dose me with all sorts of horrors for now the
+pain is gone?"
+
+"Just because I don't want it to come back. You wouldn't like it if you
+collapsed when Signora Bolla is here and she had to give you opium."
+
+"My g-good sir, if that pain is going to come back it will come; it's
+not a t-toothache to be frightened away with your trashy mixtures. They
+are about as much use as a t-toy squirt for a house on fire. However, I
+suppose you must have your way."
+
+He took the glass with his left hand, and the sight of the terrible
+scars recalled Galli to the former subject of conversation.
+
+"By the way," he asked; "how did you get so much knocked about? In the
+war, was it?"
+
+"Now, didn't I just tell you it was a case of secret dungeons and----"
+
+"Yes, that version is for Signora Grassini's benefit. Really, I suppose
+it was in the war with Brazil?"
+
+"Yes, I got a bit hurt there; and then hunting in the savage districts
+and one thing and another."
+
+"Ah, yes; on the scientific expedition. You can fasten your shirt; I
+have quite done. You seem to have had an exciting time of it out there."
+
+"Well, of course you can't live in savage countries without getting a
+few adventures once in a way," said the Gadfly lightly; "and you can
+hardly expect them all to be pleasant."
+
+"Still, I don't understand how you managed to get so much knocked about
+unless in a bad adventure with wild beasts--those scars on your left
+arm, for instance."
+
+"Ah, that was in a puma-hunt. You see, I had fired----"
+
+There was a knock at the door.
+
+"Is the room tidy, Martini? Yes? Then please open the door. This is
+really most kind, signora; you must excuse my not getting up."
+
+"Of course you mustn't get up; I have not come as a caller. I am a
+little early, Cesare. I thought perhaps you were in a hurry to go."
+
+"I can stop for a quarter of an hour. Let me put your cloak in the other
+room. Shall I take the basket, too?"
+
+"Take care; those are new-laid eggs. Katie brought them in from Monte
+Oliveto this morning. There are some Christmas roses for you, Signor
+Rivarez; I know you are fond of flowers."
+
+She sat down beside the table and began clipping the stalks of the
+flowers and arranging them in a vase.
+
+"Well, Rivarez," said Galli; "tell us the rest of the puma-hunt story;
+you had just begun."
+
+"Ah, yes! Galli was asking me about life in South America, signora; and
+I was telling him how I came to get my left arm spoiled. It was in Peru.
+We had been wading a river on a puma-hunt, and when I fired at the beast
+the powder wouldn't go off; it had got splashed with water. Naturally
+the puma didn't wait for me to rectify that; and this is the result."
+
+"That must have been a pleasant experience."
+
+"Oh, not so bad! One must take the rough with the smooth, of course; but
+it's a splendid life on the whole. Serpent-catching, for instance----"
+
+He rattled on, telling anecdote after anecdote; now of the Argentine
+war, now of the Brazilian expedition, now of hunting feats and
+adventures with savages or wild beasts. Galli, with the delight of
+a child hearing a fairy story, kept interrupting every moment to ask
+questions. He was of the impressionable Neapolitan temperament and loved
+everything sensational. Gemma took some knitting from her basket and
+listened silently, with busy fingers and downcast eyes. Martini frowned
+and fidgeted. The manner in which the anecdotes were told seemed to
+him boastful and self-conscious; and, notwithstanding his unwilling
+admiration for a man who could endure physical pain with the amazing
+fortitude which he had seen the week before, he genuinely disliked the
+Gadfly and all his works and ways.
+
+"It must have been a glorious life!" sighed Galli with naive envy. "I
+wonder you ever made up your mind to leave Brazil. Other countries must
+seem so flat after it!"
+
+"I think I was happiest in Peru and Ecuador," said the Gadfly. "That
+really is a magnificent tract of country. Of course it is very hot,
+especially the coast district of Ecuador, and one has to rough it a bit;
+but the scenery is superb beyond imagination."
+
+"I believe," said Galli, "the perfect freedom of life in a barbarous
+country would attract me more than any scenery. A man must feel his
+personal, human dignity as he can never feel it in our crowded towns."
+
+"Yes," the Gadfly answered; "that is----"
+
+Gemma raised her eyes from her knitting and looked at him. He flushed
+suddenly scarlet and broke off. There was a little pause.
+
+"Surely it is not come on again?" asked Galli anxiously.
+
+"Oh, nothing to speak of, thanks to your s-s-soothing application that I
+b-b-blasphemed against. Are you going already, Martini?"
+
+"Yes. Come along, Galli; we shall be late."
+
+Gemma followed the two men out of the room, and presently returned with
+an egg beaten up in milk.
+
+"Take this, please," she said with mild authority; and sat down again to
+her knitting. The Gadfly obeyed meekly.
+
+For half an hour, neither spoke. Then the Gadfly said in a very low
+voice:
+
+"Signora Bolla!"
+
+She looked up. He was tearing the fringe of the couch-rug, and kept his
+eyes lowered.
+
+"You didn't believe I was speaking the truth just now," he began.
+
+"I had not the smallest doubt that you were telling falsehoods," she
+answered quietly.
+
+"You were quite right. I was telling falsehoods all the time."
+
+"Do you mean about the war?"
+
+"About everything. I was not in that war at all; and as for the
+expedition, I had a few adventures, of course, and most of those stories
+are true, but it was not that way I got smashed. You have detected me in
+one lie, so I may as well confess the lot, I suppose."
+
+"Does it not seem to you rather a waste of energy to invent so many
+falsehoods?" she asked. "I should have thought it was hardly worth the
+trouble."
+
+"What would you have? You know your own English proverb: 'Ask no
+questions and you'll be told no lies.' It's no pleasure to me to fool
+people that way, but I must answer them somehow when they ask what made
+a cripple of me; and I may as well invent something pretty while I'm
+about it. You saw how pleased Galli was."
+
+"Do you prefer pleasing Galli to speaking the truth?"
+
+"The truth!" He looked up with the torn fringe in his hand. "You
+wouldn't have me tell those people the truth? I'd cut my tongue out
+first!" Then with an awkward, shy abruptness:
+
+"I have never told it to anybody yet; but I'll tell you if you care to
+hear."
+
+She silently laid down her knitting. To her there was something
+grievously pathetic in this hard, secret, unlovable creature, suddenly
+flinging his personal confidence at the feet of a woman whom he barely
+knew and whom he apparently disliked.
+
+A long silence followed, and she looked up. He was leaning his left arm
+on the little table beside him, and shading his eyes with the mutilated
+hand, and she noticed the nervous tension of the fingers and the
+throbbing of the scar on the wrist. She came up to him and called him
+softly by name. He started violently and raised his head.
+
+"I f-forgot," he stammered apologetically. "I was g-going to t-tell you
+about----"
+
+"About the--accident or whatever it was that caused your lameness. But
+if it worries you----"
+
+"The accident? Oh, the smashing! Yes; only it wasn't an accident, it was
+a poker."
+
+She stared at him in blank amazement. He pushed back his hair with a
+hand that shook perceptibly, and looked up at her, smiling.
+
+"Won't you sit down? Bring your chair close, please. I'm so sorry I
+can't get it for you. R-really, now I come to think of it, the case
+would have been a p-perfect t-treasure-trove for Riccardo if he had
+had me to treat; he has the true surgeon's love for broken bones, and
+I believe everything in me that was breakable was broken on that
+occasion--except my neck."
+
+"And your courage," she put in softly. "But perhaps you count that among
+your unbreakable possessions."
+
+He shook his head. "No," he said; "my courage has been mended up after
+a fashion, with the rest of me; but it was fairly broken then, like a
+smashed tea-cup; that's the horrible part of it. Ah---- Yes; well, I was
+telling you about the poker.
+
+"It was--let me see--nearly thirteen years ago, in Lima. I told you
+Peru was a delightful country to live in; but it's not quite so nice for
+people that happen to be at low water, as I was. I had been down in the
+Argentine, and then in Chili, tramping the country and starving, mostly;
+and had come up from Valparaiso as odd-man on a cattle-boat. I couldn't
+get any work in Lima itself, so I went down to the docks,--they're
+at Callao, you know,--to try there. Well of course in all those
+shipping-ports there are low quarters where the sea-faring people
+congregate; and after some time I got taken on as servant in one of the
+gambling hells there. I had to do the cooking and billiard-marking, and
+fetch drink for the sailors and their women, and all that sort of thing.
+Not very pleasant work; still I was glad to get it; there was at least
+food and the sight of human faces and sound of human tongues--of a
+kind. You may think that was no advantage; but I had just been down with
+yellow fever, alone in the outhouse of a wretched half-caste shanty, and
+the thing had given me the horrors. Well, one night I was told to put
+out a tipsy Lascar who was making himself obnoxious; he had come ashore
+and lost all his money and was in a bad temper. Of course I had to obey
+if I didn't want to lose my place and starve; but the man was twice as
+strong as I--I was not twenty-one and as weak as a cat after the fever.
+Besides, he had the poker."
+
+He paused a moment, glancing furtively at her; then went on:
+
+"Apparently he intended to put an end to me altogether; but somehow he
+managed to scamp his work--Lascars always do if they have a chance; and
+left just enough of me not smashed to go on living with."
+
+"Yes, but the other people, could they not interfere? Were they all
+afraid of one Lascar?"
+
+He looked up and burst out laughing.
+
+"THE OTHER PEOPLE? The gamblers and the people of the house? Why, you
+don't understand! They were negroes and Chinese and Heaven knows what;
+and I was their servant--THEIR PROPERTY. They stood round and enjoyed
+the fun, of course. That sort of thing counts for a good joke out there.
+So it is if you don't happen to be the subject practised on."
+
+She shuddered.
+
+"Then what was the end of it?"
+
+"That I can't tell you much about; a man doesn't remember the next
+few days after a thing of that kind, as a rule. But there was a ship's
+surgeon near, and it seems that when they found I was not dead, somebody
+called him in. He patched me up after a fashion--Riccardo seems to think
+it was rather badly done, but that may be professional jealousy. Anyhow,
+when I came to my senses, an old native woman had taken me in for
+Christian charity--that sounds queer, doesn't it? She used to sit
+huddled up in the corner of the hut, smoking a black pipe and spitting
+on the floor and crooning to herself. However, she meant well, and
+she told me I might die in peace and nobody should disturb me. But the
+spirit of contradiction was strong in me and I elected to live. It
+was rather a difficult job scrambling back to life, and sometimes I
+am inclined to think it was a great deal of cry for very little wool.
+Anyway that old woman's patience was wonderful; she kept me--how long
+was it?--nearly four months lying in her hut, raving like a mad thing at
+intervals, and as vicious as a bear with a sore ear between-whiles.
+The pain was pretty bad, you see, and my temper had been spoiled in
+childhood with overmuch coddling."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Oh, then--I got up somehow and crawled away. No, don't think it was
+any delicacy about taking a poor woman's charity--I was past caring for
+that; it was only that I couldn't bear the place any longer. You talked
+just now about my courage; if you had seen me then! The worst of the
+pain used to come on every evening, about dusk; and in the afternoon
+I used to lie alone, and watch the sun get lower and lower---- Oh, you
+can't understand! It makes me sick to look at a sunset now!"
+
+A long pause.
+
+"Well, then I went up country, to see if I could get work anywhere--it
+would have driven me mad to stay in Lima. I got as far as Cuzco, and
+there------ Really I don't know why I'm inflicting all this ancient
+history on you; it hasn't even the merit of being funny."
+
+She raised her head and looked at him with deep and serious eyes.
+"PLEASE don't talk that way," she said.
+
+He bit his lip and tore off another piece of the rug-fringe.
+
+"Shall I go on?" he asked after a moment.
+
+"If--if you will. I am afraid it is horrible to you to remember."
+
+"Do you think I forget when I hold my tongue? It's worse then. But
+don't imagine it's the thing itself that haunts me so. It is the fact of
+having lost the power over myself."
+
+"I--don't think I quite understand."
+
+"I mean, it is the fact of having come to the end of my courage, to the
+point where I found myself a coward."
+
+"Surely there is a limit to what anyone can bear."
+
+"Yes; and the man who has once reached that limit never knows when he
+may reach it again."
+
+"Would you mind telling me," she asked, hesitating, "how you came to be
+stranded out there alone at twenty?"
+
+"Very simply: I had a good opening in life, at home in the old country,
+and ran away from it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+He laughed again in his quick, harsh way.
+
+"Why? Because I was a priggish young cub, I suppose. I had been brought
+up in an over-luxurious home, and coddled and faddled after till I
+thought the world was made of pink cotton-wool and sugared almonds. Then
+one fine day I found out that someone I had trusted had deceived me.
+Why, how you start! What is it?"
+
+"Nothing. Go on, please."
+
+"I found out that I had been tricked into believing a lie; a common bit
+of experience, of course; but, as I tell you, I was young and priggish,
+and thought that liars go to hell. So I ran away from home and plunged
+into South America to sink or swim as I could, without a cent in my
+pocket or a word of Spanish in my tongue, or anything but white hands
+and expensive habits to get my bread with. And the natural result was
+that I got a dip into the real hell to cure me of imagining sham ones.
+A pretty thorough dip, too--it was just five years before the Duprez
+expedition came along and pulled me out."
+
+"Five years! Oh, that is terrible! And had you no friends?"
+
+"Friends! I"--he turned on her with sudden fierceness--"I have NEVER had
+a friend!"
+
+The next instant he seemed a little ashamed of his vehemence, and went
+on quickly:
+
+"You mustn't take all this too seriously; I dare say I made the worst
+of things, and really it wasn't so bad the first year and a half; I was
+young and strong and I managed to scramble along fairly well till the
+Lascar put his mark on me. But after that I couldn't get work. It's
+wonderful what an effectual tool a poker is if you handle it properly;
+and nobody cares to employ a cripple."
+
+"What sort of work did you do?"
+
+"What I could get. For some time I lived by odd-jobbing for the blacks
+on the sugar plantations, fetching and carrying and so on. It's one of
+the curious things in life, by the way, that slaves always contrive to
+have a slave of their own, and there's nothing a negro likes so much as
+a white fag to bully. But it was no use; the overseers always turned me
+off. I was too lame to be quick; and I couldn't manage the heavy loads.
+And then I was always getting these attacks of inflammation, or whatever
+the confounded thing is.
+
+"After some time I went down to the silver-mines and tried to get work
+there; but it was all no good. The managers laughed at the very notion
+of taking me on, and as for the men, they made a dead set at me."
+
+"Why was that?"
+
+"Oh, human nature, I suppose; they saw I had only one hand that I could
+hit back with. They're a mangy, half-caste lot; negroes and Zambos
+mostly. And then those horrible coolies! So at last I got enough of
+that, and set off to tramp the country at random; just wandering about,
+on the chance of something turning up."
+
+"To tramp? With that lame foot!"
+
+He looked up with a sudden, piteous catching of the breath.
+
+"I--I was hungry," he said.
+
+She turned her head a little away and rested her chin on one hand. After
+a moment's silence he began again, his voice sinking lower and lower as
+he spoke:
+
+"Well, I tramped, and tramped, till I was nearly mad with tramping, and
+nothing came of it. I got down into Ecuador, and there it was worse than
+ever. Sometimes I'd get a bit of tinkering to do,--I'm a pretty fair
+tinker,--or an errand to run, or a pigstye to clean out; sometimes I
+did--oh, I hardly know what. And then at last, one day------"
+
+The slender, brown hand clenched itself suddenly on the table, and
+Gemma, raising her head, glanced at him anxiously. His side-face was
+turned towards her, and she could see a vein on the temple beating like
+a hammer, with quick, irregular strokes. She bent forward and laid a
+gentle hand on his arm.
+
+"Never mind the rest; it's almost too horrible to talk about."
+
+He stared doubtfully at the hand, shook his head, and went on steadily:
+
+"Then one day I met a travelling variety show. You remember that one the
+other night; well, that sort of thing, only coarser and more indecent.
+The Zambos are not like these gentle Florentines; they don't care for
+anything that is not foul or brutal. There was bull-fighting, too, of
+course. They had camped out by the roadside for the night; and I went up
+to their tent to beg. Well, the weather was hot and I was half starved,
+and so--I fainted at the door of the tent. I had a trick of fainting
+suddenly at that time, like a boarding-school girl with tight stays. So
+they took me in and gave me brandy, and food, and so on; and then--the
+next morning--they offered me----"
+
+Another pause.
+
+"They wanted a hunchback, or monstrosity of some kind; for the boys
+to pelt with orange-peel and banana-skins--something to set the blacks
+laughing------ You saw the clown that night--well, I was that--for
+two years. I suppose you have a humanitarian feeling about negroes and
+Chinese. Wait till you've been at their mercy!
+
+"Well, I learned to do the tricks. I was not quite deformed enough; but
+they set that right with an artificial hump and made the most of
+this foot and arm---- And the Zambos are not critical; they're easily
+satisfied if only they can get hold of some live thing to torture--the
+fool's dress makes a good deal of difference, too.
+
+"The only difficulty was that I was so often ill and unable to play.
+Sometimes, if the manager was out of temper, he would insist on my
+coming into the ring when I had these attacks on; and I believe the
+people liked those evenings best. Once, I remember, I fainted right off
+with the pain in the middle of the performance---- When I came to my
+senses again, the audience had got round me--hooting and yelling and
+pelting me with------"
+
+"Don't! I can't hear any more! Stop, for God's sake!"
+
+She was standing up with both hands over her ears. He broke off, and,
+looking up, saw the glitter of tears in her eyes.
+
+"Damn it all, what an idiot I am!" he said under his breath.
+
+She crossed the room and stood for a little while looking out of the
+window. When she turned round, the Gadfly was again leaning on the table
+and covering his eyes with one hand. He had evidently forgotten her
+presence, and she sat down beside him without speaking. After a long
+silence she said slowly:
+
+"I want to ask you a question."
+
+"Yes?" without moving.
+
+"Why did you not cut your throat?"
+
+He looked up in grave surprise. "I did not expect YOU to ask that," he
+said. "And what about my work? Who would have done it for me?"
+
+"Your work---- Ah, I see! You talked just now about being a coward;
+well, if you have come through that and kept to your purpose, you are
+the very bravest man that I have ever met."
+
+He covered his eyes again, and held her hand in a close passionate
+clasp. A silence that seemed to have no end fell around them.
+
+Suddenly a clear and fresh soprano voice rang out from the garden below,
+singing a verse of a doggerel French song:
+
+
+  "Eh, Pierrot! Danse, Pierrot!
+   Danse un peu, mon pauvre Jeannot!
+   Vive la danse et l'allegresse!
+   Jouissons de notre bell' jeunesse!
+   Si moi je pleure ou moi je soupire,
+   Si moi je fais la triste figure--
+   Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!
+   Ha! Ha, ha, ha!
+   Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!"
+
+
+At the first words the Gadfly tore his hand from Gemma's and shrank away
+with a stifled groan. She clasped both hands round his arm and pressed
+it firmly, as she might have pressed that of a person undergoing a
+surgical operation. When the song broke off and a chorus of laughter and
+applause came from the garden, he looked up with the eyes of a tortured
+animal.
+
+"Yes, it is Zita," he said slowly; "with her officer friends. She tried
+to come in here the other night, before Riccardo came. I should have
+gone mad if she had touched me!"
+
+"But she does not know," Gemma protested softly. "She cannot guess that
+she is hurting you."
+
+"She is like a Creole," he answered, shuddering. "Do you remember her
+face that night when we brought in the beggar-child? That is how the
+half-castes look when they laugh."
+
+Another burst of laughter came from the garden. Gemma rose and opened
+the window. Zita, with a gold-embroidered scarf wound coquettishly
+round her head, was standing in the garden path, holding up a bunch
+of violets, for the possession of which three young cavalry officers
+appeared to be competing.
+
+"Mme. Reni!" said Gemma.
+
+Zita's face darkened like a thunder-cloud. "Madame?" she said, turning
+and raising her eyes with a defiant look.
+
+"Would your friends mind speaking a little more softly? Signor Rivarez
+is very unwell."
+
+The gipsy flung down her violets. "Allez-vous en!" she said, turning
+sharply on the astonished officers. "Vous m'embetez, messieurs!"
+
+She went slowly out into the road. Gemma closed the window.
+
+"They have gone away," she said, turning to him.
+
+"Thank you. I--I am sorry to have troubled you."
+
+"It was no trouble." He at once detected the hesitation in her voice.
+
+"'But?'" he said. "That sentence was not finished, signora; there was an
+unspoken 'but' in the back of your mind."
+
+"If you look into the backs of people's minds, you mustn't be offended
+at what you read there. It is not my affair, of course, but I cannot
+understand----"
+
+"My aversion to Mme. Reni? It is only when----"
+
+"No, your caring to live with her when you feel that aversion. It seems
+to me an insult to her as a woman and as----"
+
+"A woman!" He burst out laughing harshly. "Is THAT what you call a
+woman? 'Madame, ce n'est que pour rire!'"
+
+"That is not fair!" she said. "You have no right to speak of her in that
+way to anyone--especially to another woman!"
+
+He turned away, and lay with wide-open eyes, looking out of the window
+at the sinking sun. She lowered the blind and closed the shutters, that
+he might not see it set; then sat down at the table by the other window
+and took up her knitting again.
+
+"Would you like the lamp?" she asked after a moment.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+When it grew too dark to see, Gemma rolled up her knitting and laid
+it in the basket. For some time she sat with folded hands, silently
+watching the Gadfly's motionless figure. The dim evening light, falling
+on his face, seemed to soften away its hard, mocking, self-assertive
+look, and to deepen the tragic lines about the mouth. By some fanciful
+association of ideas her memory went vividly back to the stone cross
+which her father had set up in memory of Arthur, and to its inscription:
+
+
+  "All thy waves and billows have gone over me."
+
+
+An hour passed in unbroken silence. At last she rose and went softly out
+of the room. Coming back with a lamp, she paused for a moment, thinking
+that the Gadfly was asleep. As the light fell on his face he turned
+round.
+
+"I have made you a cup of coffee," she said, setting down the lamp.
+
+"Put it down a minute. Will you come here, please."
+
+He took both her hands in his.
+
+"I have been thinking," he said. "You are quite right; it is an ugly
+tangle I have got my life into. But remember, a man does not meet every
+day a woman whom he can--love; and I--I have been in deep waters. I am
+afraid----"
+
+"Afraid----"
+
+"Of the dark. Sometimes I DARE not be alone at night. I must have
+something living--something solid beside me. It is the outer darkness,
+where shall be---- No, no! It's not that; that's a sixpenny toy
+hell;--it's the INNER darkness. There's no weeping or gnashing of teeth
+there; only silence--silence----"
+
+His eyes dilated. She was quite still, hardly breathing till he spoke
+again.
+
+"This is all mystification to you, isn't it? You can't
+understand--luckily for you. What I mean is that I have a pretty fair
+chance of going mad if I try to live quite alone---- Don't think too
+hardly of me, if you can help it; I am not altogether the vicious brute
+you perhaps imagine me to be."
+
+"I cannot try to judge for you," she answered. "I have not suffered as
+you have. But--I have been in rather deep water too, in another way; and
+I think--I am sure--that if you let the fear of anything drive you to
+do a really cruel or unjust or ungenerous thing, you will regret it
+afterwards. For the rest--if you have failed in this one thing, I know
+that I, in your place, should have failed altogether,--should have
+cursed God and died."
+
+He still kept her hands in his.
+
+"Tell me," he said very softly; "have you ever in your life done a
+really cruel thing?"
+
+She did not answer, but her head sank down, and two great tears fell on
+his hand.
+
+"Tell me!" he whispered passionately, clasping her hands tighter. "Tell
+me! I have told you all my misery."
+
+"Yes,--once,--long ago. And I did it to the person I loved best in the
+world."
+
+The hands that clasped hers were trembling violently; but they did not
+loosen their hold.
+
+"He was a comrade," she went on; "and I believed a slander against
+him,--a common glaring lie that the police had invented. I struck him in
+the face for a traitor; and he went away and drowned himself. Then, two
+days later, I found out that he had been quite innocent. Perhaps that is
+a worse memory than any of yours. I would cut off my right hand to undo
+what it has done."
+
+Something swift and dangerous--something that she had not seen
+before,--flashed into his eyes. He bent his head down with a furtive,
+sudden gesture and kissed the hand.
+
+She drew back with a startled face. "Don't!" she cried out piteously.
+"Please don't ever do that again! You hurt me!"
+
+"Do you think you didn't hurt the man you killed?"
+
+"The man I--killed---- Ah, there is Cesare at the gate at last! I--I
+must go!"
+
+    *****
+
+When Martini came into the room he found the Gadfly lying alone with the
+untouched coffee beside him, swearing softly to himself in a languid,
+spiritless way, as though he got no satisfaction out of it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+A FEW days later, the Gadfly, still rather pale and limping more than
+usual, entered the reading room of the public library and asked for
+Cardinal Montanelli's sermons. Riccardo, who was reading at a table near
+him, looked up. He liked the Gadfly very much, but could not digest this
+one trait in him--this curious personal maliciousness.
+
+"Are you preparing another volley against that unlucky Cardinal?" he
+asked half irritably.
+
+"My dear fellow, why do you a-a-always attribute evil m-m-motives to
+people? It's m-most unchristian. I am preparing an essay on contemporary
+theology for the n-n-new paper."
+
+"What new paper?" Riccardo frowned. It was perhaps an open secret that
+a new press-law was expected and that the Opposition was preparing to
+astonish the town with a radical newspaper; but still it was, formally,
+a secret.
+
+"The Swindlers' Gazette, of course, or the Church Calendar."
+
+"Sh-sh! Rivarez, we are disturbing the other readers."
+
+"Well then, stick to your surgery, if that's your subject, and l-l-leave
+me to th-theology--that's mine. I d-d-don't interfere with your
+treatment of broken bones, though I know a p-p-precious lot more about
+them than you do."
+
+He sat down to his volume of sermons with an intent and preoccupied
+face. One of the librarians came up to him.
+
+"Signor Rivarez! I think you were in the Duprez expedition, exploring
+the tributaries of the Amazon? Perhaps you will kindly help us in a
+difficulty. A lady has been inquiring for the records of the expedition,
+and they are at the binder's."
+
+"What does she want to know?"
+
+"Only in what year the expedition started and when it passed through
+Ecuador."
+
+"It started from Paris in the autumn of 1837, and passed through Quito
+in April, 1838. We were three years in Brazil; then went down to Rio and
+got back to Paris in the summer of 1841. Does the lady want the dates of
+the separate discoveries?"
+
+"No, thank you; only these. I have written them down. Beppo, take this
+paper to Signora Bolla, please. Many thanks, Signor Rivarez. I am sorry
+to have troubled you."
+
+The Gadfly leaned back in his chair with a perplexed frown. What did she
+want the dates for? When they passed through Ecuador----
+
+Gemma went home with the slip of paper in her hand. April, 1838--and
+Arthur had died in May, 1833. Five years--
+
+She began pacing up and down her room. She had slept badly the last few
+nights, and there were dark shadows under her eyes.
+
+Five years;--and an "overluxurious home"--and "someone he had trusted
+had deceived him"--had deceived him--and he had found it out----
+
+She stopped and put up both hands to her head. Oh, this was utterly
+mad--it was not possible--it was absurd----
+
+And yet, how they had dragged that harbour!
+
+Five years--and he was "not twenty-one" when the Lascar---- Then he must
+have been nineteen when he ran away from home. Had he not said: "A year
+and a half----" Where did he get those blue eyes from, and that
+nervous restlessness of the fingers? And why was he so bitter against
+Montanelli? Five years--five years------
+
+If she could but know that he was drowned--if she could but have seen
+the body; some day, surely, the old wound would have left off aching,
+the old memory would have lost its terrors. Perhaps in another twenty
+years she would have learned to look back without shrinking.
+
+All her youth had been poisoned by the thought of what she had done.
+Resolutely, day after day and year after year, she had fought against
+the demon of remorse. Always she had remembered that her work lay in the
+future; always had shut her eyes and ears to the haunting spectre of the
+past. And day after day, year after year, the image of the drowned body
+drifting out to sea had never left her, and the bitter cry that she
+could not silence had risen in her heart: "I have killed Arthur! Arthur
+is dead!" Sometimes it had seemed to her that her burden was too heavy
+to be borne.
+
+Now she would have given half her life to have that burden back again.
+If she had killed him--that was a familiar grief; she had endured it too
+long to sink under it now. But if she had driven him, not into the water
+but into------ She sat down, covering her eyes with both hands. And her
+life had been darkened for his sake, because he was dead! If she had
+brought upon him nothing worse than death----
+
+Steadily, pitilessly she went back, step by step, through the hell of
+his past life. It was as vivid to her as though she had seen and felt
+it all; the helpless shivering of the naked soul, the mockery that
+was bitterer than death, the horror of loneliness, the slow, grinding,
+relentless agony. It was as vivid as if she had sat beside him in the
+filthy Indian hut; as if she had suffered with him in the silver-mines,
+the coffee fields, the horrible variety show--
+
+The variety show---- No, she must shut out that image, at least; it was
+enough to drive one mad to sit and think of it.
+
+She opened a little drawer in her writing-desk. It contained the few
+personal relics which she could not bring herself to destroy. She
+was not given to the hoarding up of sentimental trifles; and the
+preservation of these keepsakes was a concession to that weaker side of
+her nature which she kept under with so steady a hand. She very seldom
+allowed herself to look at them.
+
+Now she took them out, one after another: Giovanni's first letter to
+her, and the flowers that had lain in his dead hand; a lock of her
+baby's hair and a withered leaf from her father's grave. At the back of
+the drawer was a miniature portrait of Arthur at ten years old--the only
+existing likeness of him.
+
+She sat down with it in her hands and looked at the beautiful childish
+head, till the face of the real Arthur rose up afresh before her. How
+clear it was in every detail! The sensitive lines of the mouth, the
+wide, earnest eyes, the seraphic purity of expression--they were graven
+in upon her memory, as though he had died yesterday. Slowly the blinding
+tears welled up and hid the portrait.
+
+Oh, how could she have thought such a thing! It was like sacrilege even
+to dream of this bright, far-off spirit, bound to the sordid miseries of
+life. Surely the gods had loved him a little, and had let him die young!
+Better a thousand times that he should pass into utter nothingness than
+that he should live and be the Gadfly--the Gadfly, with his faultless
+neckties and his doubtful witticisms, his bitter tongue and his ballet
+girl! No, no! It was all a horrible, senseless fancy; and she had vexed
+her heart with vain imaginings. Arthur was dead.
+
+"May I come in?" asked a soft voice at the door.
+
+She started so that the portrait fell from her hand, and the Gadfly,
+limping across the room, picked it up and handed it to her.
+
+"How you startled me!" she said.
+
+"I am s-so sorry. Perhaps I am disturbing you?"
+
+"No. I was only turning over some old things."
+
+She hesitated for a moment; then handed him back the miniature.
+
+"What do you think of that head?"
+
+While he looked at it she watched his face as though her life depended
+upon its expression; but it was merely negative and critical.
+
+"You have set me a difficult task," he said. "The portrait is faded,
+and a child's face is always hard to read. But I should think that child
+would grow into an unlucky man, and the wisest thing he could do would
+be to abstain from growing into a man at all."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Look at the line of the under-lip. Th-th-that is the sort of nature
+that feels pain as pain and wrong as wrong; and the world has no
+r-r-room for such people; it needs people who feel nothing but their
+work."
+
+"Is it at all like anyone you know?"
+
+He looked at the portrait more closely.
+
+"Yes. What a curious thing! Of course it is; very like."
+
+"Like whom?"
+
+"C-c-cardinal Montan-nelli. I wonder whether his irreproachable Eminence
+has any nephews, by the way? Who is it, if I may ask?"
+
+"It is a portrait, taken in childhood, of the friend I told you about
+the other day----"
+
+"Whom you killed?"
+
+She winced in spite of herself. How lightly, how cruelly he used that
+dreadful word!
+
+"Yes, whom I killed--if he is really dead."
+
+"If?"
+
+She kept her eyes on his face.
+
+"I have sometimes doubted," she said. "The body was never found. He may
+have run away from home, like you, and gone to South America."
+
+"Let us hope not. That would be a bad memory to carry about with you. I
+have d-d-done some hard fighting in my t-time, and have sent m-more than
+one man to Hades, perhaps; but if I had it on my conscience that I had
+sent any l-living thing to South America, I should sleep badly----"
+
+"Then do you believe," she interrupted, coming nearer to him with
+clasped hands, "that if he were not drowned,--if he had been through
+your experience instead,--he would never come back and let the past
+go? Do you believe he would NEVER forget? Remember, it has cost me
+something, too. Look!"
+
+She pushed back the heavy waves of hair from her forehead. Through the
+black locks ran a broad white streak.
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+"I think," the Gadfly said slowly, "that the dead are better dead.
+Forgetting some things is a difficult matter. And if I were in the place
+of your dead friend, I would s-s-stay dead. The REVENANT is an ugly
+spectre."
+
+She put the portrait back into its drawer and locked the desk.
+
+"That is hard doctrine," she said. "And now we will talk about something
+else."
+
+"I came to have a little business talk with you, if I may--a private
+one, about a plan that I have in my head."
+
+She drew a chair to the table and sat down. "What do you think of the
+projected press-law?" he began, without a trace of his usual stammer.
+
+"What I think of it? I think it will not be of much value, but half a
+loaf is better than no bread."
+
+"Undoubtedly. Then do you intend to work on one of the new papers these
+good folk here are preparing to start?"
+
+"I thought of doing so. There is always a great deal of practical work
+to be done in starting any paper--printing and circulation arrangements
+and----"
+
+"How long are you going to waste your mental gifts in that fashion?"
+
+"Why 'waste'?"
+
+"Because it is waste. You know quite well that you have a far better
+head than most of the men you are working with, and you let them make a
+regular drudge and Johannes factotum of you. Intellectually you are as
+far ahead of Grassini and Galli as if they were schoolboys; yet you sit
+correcting their proofs like a printer's devil."
+
+"In the first place, I don't spend all my time in correcting proofs; and
+moreover it seems to me that you exaggerate my mental capacities. They
+are by no means so brilliant as you think."
+
+"I don't think them brilliant at all," he answered quietly; "but I do
+think them sound and solid, which is of much more importance. At those
+dreary committee meetings it is always you who put your finger on the
+weak spot in everybody's logic."
+
+"You are not fair to the others. Martini, for instance, has a very
+logical head, and there is no doubt about the capacities of Fabrizi
+and Lega. Then Grassini has a sounder knowledge of Italian economic
+statistics than any official in the country, perhaps."
+
+"Well, that's not saying much; but let us lay them and their capacities
+aside. The fact remains that you, with such gifts as you possess,
+might do more important work and fill a more responsible post than at
+present."
+
+"I am quite satisfied with my position. The work I am doing is not of
+very much value, perhaps, but we all do what we can."
+
+"Signora Bolla, you and I have gone too far to play at compliments and
+modest denials now. Tell me honestly, do you recognize that you are
+using up your brain on work which persons inferior to you could do as
+well?"
+
+"Since you press me for an answer--yes, to some extent."
+
+"Then why do you let that go on?"
+
+No answer.
+
+"Why do you let it go on?"
+
+"Because--I can't help it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+She looked up reproachfully. "That is unkind--it's not fair to press me
+so."
+
+"But all the same you are going to tell me why."
+
+"If you must have it, then--because my life has been smashed into
+pieces, and I have not the energy to start anything REAL, now. I
+am about fit to be a revolutionary cab-horse, and do the party's
+drudge-work. At least I do it conscientiously, and it must be done by
+somebody."
+
+"Certainly it must be done by somebody; but not always by the same
+person."
+
+"It's about all I'm fit for."
+
+He looked at her with half-shut eyes, inscrutably. Presently she raised
+her head.
+
+"We are returning to the old subject; and this was to be a business
+talk. It is quite useless, I assure you, to tell me I might have done
+all sorts of things. I shall never do them now. But I may be able to
+help you in thinking out your plan. What is it?"
+
+"You begin by telling me that it is useless for me to suggest anything,
+and then ask what I want to suggest. My plan requires your help in
+action, not only in thinking out."
+
+"Let me hear it and then we will discuss."
+
+"Tell me first whether you have heard anything about schemes for a
+rising in Venetia."
+
+"I have heard of nothing but schemes for risings and Sanfedist plots
+ever since the amnesty, and I fear I am as sceptical about the one as
+about the other."
+
+"So am I, in most cases; but I am speaking of really serious
+preparations for a rising of the whole province against the Austrians.
+A good many young fellows in the Papal States--particularly in the
+Four Legations--are secretly preparing to get across there and join as
+volunteers. And I hear from my friends in the Romagna----"
+
+"Tell me," she interrupted, "are you quite sure that these friends of
+yours can be trusted?"
+
+"Quite sure. I know them personally, and have worked with them."
+
+"That is, they are members of the 'sect' to which you belong? Forgive
+my scepticism, but I am always a little doubtful as to the accuracy
+of information received from secret societies. It seems to me that the
+habit----"
+
+"Who told you I belonged to a 'sect'?" he interrupted sharply.
+
+"No one; I guessed it."
+
+"Ah!" He leaned back in his chair and looked at her, frowning. "Do you
+always guess people's private affairs?" he said after a moment.
+
+"Very often. I am rather observant, and have a habit of putting things
+together. I tell you that so that you may be careful when you don't want
+me to know a thing."
+
+"I don't mind your knowing anything so long as it goes no further. I
+suppose this has not----"
+
+She lifted her head with a gesture of half-offended surprise. "Surely
+that is an unnecessary question!" she said.
+
+"Of course I know you would not speak of anything to outsiders; but I
+thought that perhaps, to the members of your party----"
+
+"The party's business is with facts, not with my personal conjectures
+and fancies. Of course I have never mentioned the subject to anyone."
+
+"Thank you. Do you happen to have guessed which sect I belong to?"
+
+"I hope--you must not take offence at my frankness; it was you who
+started this talk, you know---- I do hope it is not the 'Knifers.'"
+
+"Why do you hope that?"
+
+"Because you are fit for better things."
+
+"We are all fit for better things than we ever do. There is your own
+answer back again. However, it is not the 'Knifers' that I belong to,
+but the 'Red Girdles.' They are a steadier lot, and take their work more
+seriously."
+
+"Do you mean the work of knifing?"
+
+"That, among other things. Knives are very useful in their way; but only
+when you have a good, organized propaganda behind them. That is what I
+dislike in the other sect. They think a knife can settle all the world's
+difficulties; and that's a mistake. It can settle a good many, but not
+all."
+
+"Do you honestly believe that it settles any?"
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+"Of course," she went on, "it eliminates, for the moment, the practical
+difficulty caused by the presence of a clever spy or objectionable
+official; but whether it does not create worse difficulties in place of
+the one removed is another question. It seems to me like the parable of
+the swept and garnished house and the seven devils. Every assassination
+only makes the police more vicious and the people more accustomed to
+violence and brutality, and the last state of the community may be worse
+than the first."
+
+"What do you think will happen when the revolution comes? Do you suppose
+the people won't have to get accustomed to violence then? War is war."
+
+"Yes, but open revolution is another matter. It is one moment in the
+people's life, and it is the price we have to pay for all our progress.
+No doubt fearful things will happen; they must in every revolution.
+But they will be isolated facts--exceptional features of an exceptional
+moment. The horrible thing about this promiscuous knifing is that
+it becomes a habit. The people get to look upon it as an every-day
+occurrence, and their sense of the sacredness of human life gets
+blunted. I have not been much in the Romagna, but what little I have
+seen of the people has given me the impression that they have got, or
+are getting, into a mechanical habit of violence."
+
+"Surely even that is better than a mechanical habit of obedience and
+submission."
+
+"I don't think so. All mechanical habits are bad and slavish, and this
+one is ferocious as well. Of course, if you look upon the work of the
+revolutionist as the mere wresting of certain definite concessions from
+the government, then the secret sect and the knife must seem to you the
+best weapons, for there is nothing else which all governments so dread.
+But if you think, as I do, that to force the government's hand is not an
+end in itself, but only a means to an end, and that what we really
+need to reform is the relation between man and man, then you must go
+differently to work. Accustoming ignorant people to the sight of blood
+is not the way to raise the value they put on human life."
+
+"And the value they put on religion?"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"I think we differ as to where the root of the mischief lies. You place
+it in a lack of appreciation of the value of human life."
+
+"Rather of the sacredness of human personality."
+
+"Put it as you like. To me the great cause of our muddles and mistakes
+seems to lie in the mental disease called religion."
+
+"Do you mean any religion in particular?"
+
+"Oh, no! That is a mere question of external symptoms. The disease
+itself is what is called a religious attitude of mind. It is the
+morbid desire to set up a fetich and adore it, to fall down and worship
+something. It makes little difference whether the something be Jesus or
+Buddha or a tum-tum tree. You don't agree with me, of course. You may be
+atheist or agnostic or anything you like, but I could feel the religious
+temperament in you at five yards. However, it is of no use for us to
+discuss that. But you are quite mistaken in thinking that I, for one,
+look upon the knifing as merely a means of removing objectionable
+officials--it is, above all, a means, and I think the best means, of
+undermining the prestige of the Church and of accustoming people to look
+upon clerical agents as upon any other vermin."
+
+"And when you have accomplished that; when you have roused the wild
+beast that sleeps in the people and set it on the Church; then----"
+
+"Then I shall have done the work that makes it worth my while to live."
+
+"Is THAT the work you spoke of the other day?"
+
+"Yes, just that."
+
+She shivered and turned away.
+
+"You are disappointed in me?" he said, looking up with a smile.
+
+"No; not exactly that. I am--I think--a little afraid of you."
+
+She turned round after a moment and said in her ordinary business voice:
+
+"This is an unprofitable discussion. Our standpoints are too different.
+For my part, I believe in propaganda, propaganda, and propaganda; and
+when you can get it, open insurrection."
+
+"Then let us come back to the question of my plan; it has something to
+do with propaganda and more with insurrection."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"As I tell you, a good many volunteers are going from the Romagna to
+join the Venetians. We do not know yet how soon the insurrection will
+break out. It may not be till the autumn or winter; but the volunteers
+in the Apennines must be armed and ready, so that they may be able to
+start for the plains directly they are sent for. I have undertaken to
+smuggle the firearms and ammunition on to Papal territory for them----"
+
+"Wait a minute. How do you come to be working with that set? The
+revolutionists in Lombardy and Venetia are all in favour of the new
+Pope. They are going in for liberal reforms, hand in hand with
+the progressive movement in the Church. How can a 'no-compromise'
+anti-clerical like you get on with them?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. "What is it to me if they like to amuse
+themselves with a rag-doll, so long as they do their work? Of course
+they will take the Pope for a figurehead. What have I to do with that,
+if only the insurrection gets under way somehow? Any stick will do
+to beat a dog with, I suppose, and any cry to set the people on the
+Austrians."
+
+"What is it you want me to do?"
+
+"Chiefly to help me get the firearms across."
+
+"But how could I do that?"
+
+"You are just the person who could do it best. I think of buying the
+arms in England, and there is a good deal of difficulty about bringing
+them over. It's impossible to get them through any of the Pontifical
+sea-ports; they must come by Tuscany, and go across the Apennines."
+
+"That makes two frontiers to cross instead of one."
+
+"Yes; but the other way is hopeless; you can't smuggle a big transport
+in at a harbour where there is no trade, and you know the whole shipping
+of Civita Vecchia amounts to about three row-boats and a fishing
+smack. If we once get the things across Tuscany, I can manage the Papal
+frontier; my men know every path in the mountains, and we have plenty of
+hiding-places. The transport must come by sea to Leghorn, and that is
+my great difficulty; I am not in with the smugglers there, and I believe
+you are."
+
+"Give me five minutes to think."
+
+She leaned forward, resting one elbow on her knee, and supporting the
+chin on the raised hand. After a few moments' silence she looked up.
+
+"It is possible that I might be of some use in that part of the work,"
+she said; "but before we go any further, I want to ask you a question.
+Can you give me your word that this business is not connected with any
+stabbing or secret violence of any kind?"
+
+"Certainly. It goes without saying that I should not have asked you to
+join in a thing of which I know you disapprove."
+
+"When do you want a definite answer from me?"
+
+"There is not much time to lose; but I can give you a few days to decide
+in."
+
+"Are you free next Saturday evening?"
+
+"Let me see--to-day is Thursday; yes."
+
+"Then come here. I will think the matter over and give you a final
+answer."
+
+    *****
+
+On the following Sunday Gemma sent in to the committee of the Florentine
+branch of the Mazzinian party a statement that she wished to undertake a
+special work of a political nature, which would for a few months prevent
+her from performing the functions for which she had up till now been
+responsible to the party.
+
+Some surprise was felt at this announcement, but the committee raised no
+objection; she had been known in the party for several years as a person
+whose judgment might be trusted; and the members agreed that if Signora
+Bolla took an unexpected step, she probably had good reasons for it.
+
+To Martini she said frankly that she had undertaken to help the Gadfly
+with some "frontier work." She had stipulated for the right to tell her
+old friend this much, in order that there might be no misunderstanding
+or painful sense of doubt and mystery between them. It seemed to her
+that she owed him this proof of confidence. He made no comment when she
+told him; but she saw, without knowing why, that the news had wounded
+him deeply.
+
+They were sitting on the terrace of her lodging, looking out over the
+red roofs to Fiesole. After a long silence, Martini rose and began
+tramping up and down with his hands in his pockets, whistling to
+himself--a sure sign with him of mental agitation. She sat looking at
+him for a little while.
+
+"Cesare, you are worried about this affair," she said at last. "I am
+very sorry you feel so despondent over it; but I could decide only as
+seemed right to me."
+
+"It is not the affair," he answered, sullenly; "I know nothing about
+it, and it probably is all right, once you have consented to go into it.
+It's the MAN I distrust."
+
+"I think you misunderstand him; I did till I got to know him better. He
+is far from perfect, but there is much more good in him than you think."
+
+"Very likely." For a moment he tramped to and fro in silence, then
+suddenly stopped beside her.
+
+"Gemma, give it up! Give it up before it is too late! Don't let that man
+drag you into things you will repent afterwards."
+
+"Cesare," she said gently, "you are not thinking what you are saying.
+No one is dragging me into anything. I have made this decision of my
+own will, after thinking the matter well over alone. You have a personal
+dislike to Rivarez, I know; but we are talking of politics now, not of
+persons."
+
+"Madonna! Give it up! That man is dangerous; he is secret, and cruel,
+and unscrupulous--and he is in love with you!"
+
+She drew back.
+
+"Cesare, how can you get such fancies into your head?"
+
+"He is in love with you," Martini repeated. "Keep clear of him,
+Madonna!"
+
+"Dear Cesare, I can't keep clear of him; and I can't explain to you why.
+We are tied together--not by any wish or doing of our own."
+
+"If you are tied, there is nothing more to say," Martini answered
+wearily.
+
+He went away, saying that he was busy, and tramped for hours up and down
+the muddy streets. The world looked very black to him that evening. One
+poor ewe-lamb--and this slippery creature had stepped in and stolen it
+away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+TOWARDS the middle of February the Gadfly went to Leghorn. Gemma had
+introduced him to a young Englishman there, a shipping-agent of liberal
+views, whom she and her husband had known in England. He had on several
+occasions performed little services for the Florentine radicals: had
+lent money to meet an unforeseen emergency, had allowed his business
+address to be used for the party's letters, etc.; but always through
+Gemma's mediumship, and as a private friend of hers. She was, therefore,
+according to party etiquette, free to make use of the connexion in any
+way that might seem good to her. Whether any use could be got out of it
+was quite another question. To ask a friendly sympathizer to lend his
+address for letters from Sicily or to keep a few documents in a corner
+of his counting-house safe was one thing; to ask him to smuggle over a
+transport of firearms for an insurrection was another; and she had very
+little hope of his consenting.
+
+"You can but try," she had said to the Gadfly; "but I don't think
+anything will come of it. If you were to go to him with that
+recommendation and ask for five hundred scudi, I dare say he'd give them
+to you at once--he's exceedingly generous,--and perhaps at a pinch he
+would lend you his passport or hide a fugitive in his cellar; but if you
+mention such a thing as rifles he will stare at you and think we're both
+demented."
+
+"Perhaps he may give me a few hints, though, or introduce me to a
+friendly sailor or two," the Gadfly had answered. "Anyway, it's worth
+while to try."
+
+One day at the end of the month he came into her study less carefully
+dressed than usual, and she saw at once from his face that he had good
+news to tell.
+
+"Ah, at last! I was beginning to think something must have happened to
+you!"
+
+"I thought it safer not to write, and I couldn't get back sooner."
+
+"You have just arrived?"
+
+"Yes; I am straight from the diligence; I looked in to tell you that the
+affair is all settled."
+
+"Do you mean that Bailey has really consented to help?"
+
+"More than to help; he has undertaken the whole thing,--packing,
+transports,--everything. The rifles will be hidden in bales of
+merchandise and will come straight through from England. His partner,
+Williams, who is a great friend of his, has consented to see the
+transport off from Southampton, and Bailey will slip it through the
+custom house at Leghorn. That is why I have been such a long time;
+Williams was just starting for Southampton, and I went with him as far
+as Genoa."
+
+"To talk over details on the way?"
+
+"Yes, as long as I wasn't too sea-sick to talk about anything."
+
+"Are you a bad sailor?" she asked quickly, remembering how Arthur had
+suffered from sea-sickness one day when her father had taken them both
+for a pleasure-trip.
+
+"About as bad as is possible, in spite of having been at sea so much.
+But we had a talk while they were loading at Genoa. You know Williams,
+I think? He's a thoroughly good fellow, trustworthy and sensible; so is
+Bailey, for that matter; and they both know how to hold their tongues."
+
+"It seems to me, though, that Bailey is running a serious risk in doing
+a thing like this."
+
+"So I told him, and he only looked sulky and said: 'What business is
+that of yours?' Just the sort of thing one would expect him to say. If
+I met Bailey in Timbuctoo, I should go up to him and say: 'Good-morning,
+Englishman.'"
+
+"But I can't conceive how you managed to get their consent; Williams,
+too; the last man I should have thought of."
+
+"Yes, he objected strongly at first; not on the ground of danger,
+though, but because the thing is 'so unbusiness-like.' But I managed to
+win him over after a bit. And now we will go into details."
+
+    *****
+
+When the Gadfly reached his lodgings the sun had set, and the blossoming
+pyrus japonica that hung over the garden wall looked dark in the fading
+light. He gathered a few sprays and carried them into the house. As he
+opened the study door, Zita started up from a chair in the corner and
+ran towards him.
+
+"Oh, Felice; I thought you were never coming!"
+
+His first impulse was to ask her sharply what business she had in his
+study; but, remembering that he had not seen her for three weeks, he
+held out his hand and said, rather frigidly:
+
+"Good-evening, Zita; how are you?"
+
+She put up her face to be kissed, but he moved past as though he had
+not seen the gesture, and took up a vase to put the pyrus in. The next
+instant the door was flung wide open, and the collie, rushing into the
+room, performed an ecstatic dance round him, barking and whining with
+delight. He put down the flowers and stooped to pat the dog.
+
+"Well, Shaitan, how are you, old man? Yes, it's really I. Shake hands,
+like a good dog!"
+
+The hard, sullen look came into Zita's face.
+
+"Shall we go to dinner?" she asked coldly. "I ordered it for you at my
+place, as you wrote that you were coming this evening."
+
+He turned round quickly.
+
+"I am v-v-very sorry; you sh-should not have waited for me! I will just
+get a bit tidy and come round at once. P-perhaps you would not mind
+putting these into water."
+
+When he came into Zita's dining room she was standing before a mirror,
+fastening one of the sprays into her dress. She had apparently made up
+her mind to be good-humoured, and came up to him with a little cluster
+of crimson buds tied together.
+
+"Here is a buttonhole for you; let me put it in your coat."
+
+All through dinner-time he did his best to be amiable, and kept up a
+flow of small-talk, to which she responded with radiant smiles. Her
+evident joy at his return somewhat embarrassed him; he had grown so
+accustomed to the idea that she led her own life apart from his, among
+such friends and companions as were congenial to her, that it had never
+occurred to him to imagine her as missing him. And yet she must have
+felt dull to be so much excited now.
+
+"Let us have coffee up on the terrace," she said; "it is quite warm this
+evening."
+
+"Very well. Shall I take your guitar? Perhaps you will sing."
+
+She flushed with delight; he was critical about music and did not often
+ask her to sing.
+
+On the terrace was a broad wooden bench running round the walls. The
+Gadfly chose a corner with a good view of the hills, and Zita, seating
+herself on the low wall with her feet on the bench, leaned back against
+a pillar of the roof. She did not care much for scenery; she preferred
+to look at the Gadfly.
+
+"Give me a cigarette," she said. "I don't believe I have smoked once
+since you went away."
+
+"Happy thought! It's just s-s-smoke I want to complete my bliss."
+
+She leaned forward and looked at him earnestly.
+
+"Are you really happy?"
+
+The Gadfly's mobile brows went up.
+
+"Yes; why not? I have had a good dinner; I am looking at one of the
+m-most beautiful views in Europe; and now I'm going to have coffee and
+hear a Hungarian folk-song. There is nothing the matter with either my
+conscience or my digestion; what more can man desire?"
+
+"I know another thing you desire."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That!" She tossed a little cardboard box into his hand.
+
+"B-burnt almonds! Why d-didn't you tell me before I began to s-smoke?"
+he cried reproachfully.
+
+"Why, you baby! you can eat them when you have done smoking. There comes
+the coffee."
+
+The Gadfly sipped his coffee and ate his burnt almonds with the grave
+and concentrated enjoyment of a cat drinking cream.
+
+"How nice it is to come back to d-decent coffee, after the s-s-stuff one
+gets at Leghorn!" he said in his purring drawl.
+
+"A very good reason for stopping at home now you are here."
+
+"Not much stopping for me; I'm off again to-morrow."
+
+The smile died on her face.
+
+"To-morrow! What for? Where are you going to?"
+
+"Oh! two or three p-p-places, on business."
+
+It had been decided between him and Gemma that he must go in person into
+the Apennines to make arrangements with the smugglers of the frontier
+region about the transporting of the firearms. To cross the Papal
+frontier was for him a matter of serious danger; but it had to be done
+if the work was to succeed.
+
+"Always business!" Zita sighed under her breath; and then asked aloud:
+
+"Shall you be gone long?"
+
+"No; only a fortnight or three weeks, p-p-probably."
+
+"I suppose it's some of THAT business?" she asked abruptly.
+
+"'That' business?"
+
+"The business you're always trying to get your neck broken over--the
+everlasting politics."
+
+"It has something to do with p-p-politics."
+
+Zita threw away her cigarette.
+
+"You are fooling me," she said. "You are going into some danger or
+other."
+
+"I'm going s-s-straight into the infernal regions," he answered
+languidly. "D-do you happen to have any friends there you want to send
+that ivy to? You n-needn't pull it all down, though."
+
+She had fiercely torn off a handful of the climber from the pillar, and
+now flung it down with vehement anger.
+
+"You are going into danger," she repeated; "and you won't even say so
+honestly! Do you think I am fit for nothing but to be fooled and joked
+with? You will get yourself hanged one of these days, and never so
+much as say good-bye. It's always politics and politics--I'm sick of
+politics!"
+
+"S-so am I," said the Gadfly, yawning lazily; "and therefore we'll talk
+about something else--unless you will sing."
+
+"Well, give me the guitar, then. What shall I sing?"
+
+"The ballad of the lost horse; it suits your voice so well."
+
+She began to sing the old Hungarian ballad of the man who loses first
+his horse, then his home, and then his sweetheart, and consoles himself
+with the reflection that "more was lost at Mohacz field." The song was
+one of the Gadfly's especial favourites; its fierce and tragic melody
+and the bitter stoicism of the refrain appealed to him as no softer
+music ever did.
+
+Zita was in excellent voice; the notes came from her lips strong and
+clear, full of the vehement desire of life. She would have sung Italian
+or Slavonic music badly, and German still worse; but she sang the Magyar
+folk-songs splendidly.
+
+The Gadfly listened with wide-open eyes and parted lips; he had never
+heard her sing like this before. As she came to the last line, her voice
+began suddenly to shake.
+
+
+     "Ah, no matter! More was lost----"
+
+
+She broke down with a sob and hid her face among the ivy leaves.
+
+"Zita!" The Gadfly rose and took the guitar from her hand. "What is it?"
+
+She only sobbed convulsively, hiding her face in both hands. He touched
+her on the arm.
+
+"Tell me what is the matter," he said caressingly.
+
+"Let me alone!" she sobbed, shrinking away. "Let me alone!"
+
+He went quietly back to his seat and waited till the sobs died away.
+Suddenly he felt her arms about his neck; she was kneeling on the floor
+beside him.
+
+"Felice--don't go! Don't go away!"
+
+"We will talk about that afterwards," he said, gently extricating
+himself from the clinging arms. "Tell me first what has upset you so.
+Has anything been frightening you?"
+
+She silently shook her head.
+
+"Have I done anything to hurt you?"
+
+"No." She put a hand up against his throat.
+
+"What, then?"
+
+"You will get killed," she whispered at last. "I heard one of those men
+that come here say the other day that you will get into trouble--and
+when I ask you about it you laugh at me!"
+
+"My dear child," the Gadfly said, after a little pause of astonishment,
+"you have got some exaggerated notion into your head. Very likely I
+shall get killed some day--that is the natural consequence of being a
+revolutionist. But there is no reason to suppose I am g-g-going to get
+killed just now. I am running no more risk than other people."
+
+"Other people--what are other people to me? If you loved me you wouldn't
+go off this way and leave me to lie awake at night, wondering whether
+you're arrested, or dream you are dead whenever I go to sleep. You don't
+care as much for me as for that dog there!"
+
+The Gadfly rose and walked slowly to the other end of the terrace.
+He was quite unprepared for such a scene as this and at a loss how to
+answer her. Yes, Gemma was right; he had got his life into a tangle that
+he would have hard work to undo.
+
+"Sit down and let us talk about it quietly," he said, coming back after
+a moment. "I think we have misunderstood each other; of course I should
+not have laughed if I had thought you were serious. Try to tell
+me plainly what is troubling you; and then, if there is any
+misunderstanding, we may be able to clear it up."
+
+"There's nothing to clear up. I can see you don't care a brass farthing
+for me."
+
+"My dear child, we had better be quite frank with each other. I have
+always tried to be honest about our relationship, and I think I have
+never deceived you as to----"
+
+"Oh, no! you have been honest enough; you have never even pretended
+to think of me as anything else but a prostitute,--a trumpery bit of
+second-hand finery that plenty of other men have had before you--"
+
+"Hush, Zita! I have never thought that way about any living thing."
+
+"You have never loved me," she insisted sullenly.
+
+"No, I have never loved you. Listen to me, and try to think as little
+harm of me as you can."
+
+"Who said I thought any harm of you? I----"
+
+"Wait a minute. This is what I want to say: I have no belief whatever in
+conventional moral codes, and no respect for them. To me the relations
+between men and women are simply questions of personal likes and
+dislikes------"
+
+"And of money," she interrupted with a harsh little laugh. He winced and
+hesitated a moment.
+
+"That, of course, is the ugly part of the matter. But believe me, if I
+had thought that you disliked me, or felt any repulsion to the thing,
+I would never have suggested it, or taken advantage of your position to
+persuade you to it. I have never done that to any woman in my life, and
+I have never told a woman a lie about my feeling for her. You may trust
+me that I am speaking the truth----"
+
+He paused a moment, but she did not answer.
+
+"I thought," he went on; "that if a man is alone in the world and feels
+the need of--of a woman's presence about him, and if he can find a woman
+who is attractive to him and to whom he is not repulsive, he has a right
+to accept, in a grateful and friendly spirit, such pleasure as that
+woman is willing to give him, without entering into any closer bond. I
+saw no harm in the thing, provided only there is no unfairness or insult
+or deceit on either side. As for your having been in that relation with
+other men before I met you, I did not think about that. I merely thought
+that the connexion would be a pleasant and harmless one for both of us,
+and that either was free to break it as soon as it became irksome. If I
+was mistaken--if you have grown to look upon it differently--then----"
+
+He paused again.
+
+"Then?" she whispered, without looking up.
+
+"Then I have done you a wrong, and I am very sorry. But I did not mean
+to do it."
+
+"You 'did not mean' and you 'thought'----Felice, are you made of cast
+iron? Have you never been in love with a woman in your life that you
+can't see I love you?"
+
+A sudden thrill went through him; it was so long since anyone had said
+to him: "I love you." Instantly she started up and flung her arms round
+him.
+
+"Felice, come away with me! Come away from this dreadful country and all
+these people and their politics! What have we got to do with them? Come
+away, and we will be happy together. Let us go to South America, where
+you used to live."
+
+The physical horror of association startled him back into self-control;
+he unclasped her hands from his neck and held them in a steady grasp.
+
+"Zita! Try to understand what I am saying to you. I do not love you; and
+if I did I would not come away with you. I have my work in Italy, and my
+comrades----"
+
+"And someone else that you love better than me!" she cried out fiercely.
+"Oh, I could kill you! It is not your comrades you care about; it's----
+I know who it is!"
+
+"Hush!" he said quietly. "You are excited and imagining things that are
+not true."
+
+"You suppose I am thinking of Signora Bolla? I'm not so easily duped!
+You only talk politics with her; you care no more for her than you do
+for me. It's that Cardinal!"
+
+The Gadfly started as if he had been shot.
+
+"Cardinal?" he repeated mechanically.
+
+"Cardinal Montanelli, that came here preaching in the autumn. Do you
+think I didn't see your face when his carriage passed? You were as white
+as my pocket-handkerchief! Why, you're shaking like a leaf now because I
+mentioned his name!"
+
+He stood up.
+
+"You don't know what you are talking about," he said very slowly and
+softly. "I--hate the Cardinal. He is the worst enemy I have."
+
+"Enemy or no, you love him better than you love anyone else in the
+world. Look me in the face and say that is not true, if you can!"
+
+He turned away, and looked out into the garden. She watched him
+furtively, half-scared at what she had done; there was something
+terrifying in his silence. At last she stole up to him, like a
+frightened child, and timidly pulled his sleeve. He turned round.
+
+"It is true," he said.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+"BUT c-c-can't I meet him somewhere in the hills? Brisighella is a risky
+place for me."
+
+"Every inch of ground in the Romagna is risky for you; but just at this
+moment Brisighella is safer for you than any other place."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I'll tell you in a minute. Don't let that man with the blue jacket
+see your face; he's dangerous. Yes; it was a terrible storm; I don't
+remember to have seen the vines so bad for a long time."
+
+The Gadfly spread his arms on the table, and laid his face upon them,
+like a man overcome with fatigue or wine; and the dangerous new-comer in
+the blue jacket, glancing swiftly round, saw only two farmers discussing
+their crops over a flask of wine and a sleepy mountaineer with his head
+on the table. It was the usual sort of thing to see in little places
+like Marradi; and the owner of the blue jacket apparently made up his
+mind that nothing could be gained by listening; for he drank his wine at
+a gulp and sauntered into the outer room. There he stood leaning on the
+counter and gossiping lazily with the landlord, glancing every now and
+then out of the corner of one eye through the open door, beyond which
+sat the three figures at the table. The two farmers went on sipping
+their wine and discussing the weather in the local dialect, and the
+Gadfly snored like a man whose conscience is sound.
+
+At last the spy seemed to make up his mind that there was nothing in the
+wine-shop worth further waste of his time. He paid his reckoning, and,
+lounging out of the house, sauntered away down the narrow street. The
+Gadfly, yawning and stretching, lifted himself up and sleepily rubbed
+the sleeve of his linen blouse across his eyes.
+
+"Pretty sharp practice that," he said, pulling a clasp-knife out of his
+pocket and cutting off a chunk from the rye-loaf on the table. "Have
+they been worrying you much lately, Michele?"
+
+"They've been worse than mosquitos in August. There's no getting a
+minute's peace; wherever one goes, there's always a spy hanging
+about. Even right up in the hills, where they used to be so shy about
+venturing, they have taken to coming in bands of three or four--haven't
+they, Gino? That's why we arranged for you to meet Domenichino in the
+town."
+
+"Yes; but why Brisighella? A frontier town is always full of spies."
+
+"Brisighella just now is a capital place. It's swarming with pilgrims
+from all parts of the country."
+
+"But it's not on the way to anywhere."
+
+"It's not far out of the way to Rome, and many of the Easter Pilgrims
+are going round to hear Mass there."
+
+"I d-d-didn't know there was anything special in Brisighella."
+
+"There's the Cardinal. Don't you remember his going to Florence to
+preach last December? It's that same Cardinal Montanelli. They say he
+made a great sensation."
+
+"I dare say; I don't go to hear sermons."
+
+"Well, he has the reputation of being a saint, you see."
+
+"How does he manage that?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose it's because he gives away all his income, and
+lives like a parish priest with four or five hundred scudi a year."
+
+"Ah!" interposed the man called Gino; "but it's more than that. He
+doesn't only give away money; he spends his whole life in looking
+after the poor, and seeing the sick are properly treated, and hearing
+complaints and grievances from morning till night. I'm no fonder of
+priests than you are, Michele, but Monsignor Montanelli is not like
+other Cardinals."
+
+"Oh, I dare say he's more fool than knave!" said Michele. "Anyhow, the
+people are mad after him, and the last new freak is for the pilgrims to
+go round that way to ask his blessing. Domenichino thought of going as a
+pedlar, with a basket of cheap crosses and rosaries. The people like to
+buy those things and ask the Cardinal to touch them; then they put them
+round their babies' necks to keep off the evil eye."
+
+"Wait a minute. How am I to go--as a pilgrim? This make-up suits me
+p-pretty well, I think; but it w-won't do for me to show myself
+in Brisighella in the same character that I had here; it would be
+ev-v-vidence against you if I get taken."
+
+"You won't get taken; we have a splendid disguise for you, with a
+passport and all complete."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"An old Spanish pilgrim--a repentant brigand from the Sierras. He fell
+ill in Ancona last year, and one of our friends took him on board a
+trading-vessel out of charity, and set him down in Venice, where he had
+friends, and he left his papers with us to show his gratitude. They will
+just do for you."
+
+"A repentant b-b-brigand? But w-what about the police?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right! He finished his term of the galleys some years
+ago, and has been going about to Jerusalem and all sorts of places
+saving his soul ever since. He killed his son by mistake for somebody
+else, and gave himself up to the police in a fit of remorse."
+
+"Was he quite old?"
+
+"Yes; but a white beard and wig will set that right, and the description
+suits you to perfection in every other respect. He was an old soldier,
+with a lame foot and a sabre-cut across the face like yours; and then
+his being a Spaniard, too--you see, if you meet any Spanish pilgrims,
+you can talk to them all right."
+
+"Where am I to meet Domenichino?"
+
+"You join the pilgrims at the cross-road that we will show you on the
+map, saying you had lost your way in the hills. Then, when you reach the
+town, you go with the rest of them into the marketplace, in front of the
+Cardinal's palace."
+
+"Oh, he manages to live in a p-palace, then, in s-spite of being a
+saint?"
+
+"He lives in one wing of it, and has turned the rest into a hospital.
+Well, you all wait there for him to come out and give his benediction,
+and Domenichino will come up with his basket and say: 'Are you one of
+the pilgrims, father?' and you answer: 'I am a miserable sinner.' Then
+he puts down his basket and wipes his face with his sleeve, and you
+offer him six soldi for a rosary."
+
+"Then, of course, he arranges where we can talk?"
+
+"Yes; he will have plenty of time to give you the address of the
+meeting-place while the people are gaping at Montanelli. That was our
+plan; but if you don't like it, we can let Domenichino know and arrange
+something else."
+
+"No; it will do; only see that the beard and wig look natural."
+
+    *****
+
+"Are you one of the pilgrims, father?"
+
+The Gadfly, sitting on the steps of the episcopal palace, looked up
+from under his ragged white locks, and gave the password in a husky,
+trembling voice, with a strong foreign accent. Domenichino slipped
+the leather strap from his shoulder, and set down his basket of pious
+gewgaws on the step. The crowd of peasants and pilgrims sitting on the
+steps and lounging about the market-place was taking no notice of
+them, but for precaution's sake they kept up a desultory conversation,
+Domenichino speaking in the local dialect and the Gadfly in broken
+Italian, intermixed with Spanish words.
+
+"His Eminence! His Eminence is coming out!" shouted the people by the
+door. "Stand aside! His Eminence is coming!"
+
+They both stood up.
+
+"Here, father," said Domenichino, putting into the Gadfly's hand a
+little image wrapped in paper; "take this, too, and pray for me when you
+get to Rome."
+
+The Gadfly thrust it into his breast, and turned to look at the figure
+in the violet Lenten robe and scarlet cap that was standing on the upper
+step and blessing the people with outstretched arms.
+
+Montanelli came slowly down the steps, the people crowding about him to
+kiss his hands. Many knelt down and put the hem of his cassock to their
+lips as he passed.
+
+"Peace be with you, my children!"
+
+At the sound of the clear, silvery voice, the Gadfly bent his head, so
+that the white hair fell across his face; and Domenichino, seeing the
+quivering of the pilgrim's staff in his hand, said to himself with
+admiration: "What an actor!"
+
+A woman standing near to them stooped down and lifted her child from the
+step. "Come, Cecco," she said. "His Eminence will bless you as the dear
+Lord blessed the children."
+
+The Gadfly moved a step forward and stopped. Oh, it was hard! All these
+outsiders--these pilgrims and mountaineers--could go up and speak to
+him, and he would lay his hand on their children's hair. Perhaps he
+would say "Carino" to that peasant boy, as he used to say----
+
+The Gadfly sank down again on the step, turning away that he might not
+see. If only he could shrink into some corner and stop his ears to shut
+out the sound! Indeed, it was more than any man should have to bear--to
+be so close, so close that he could have put out his arm and touched the
+dear hand.
+
+"Will you not come under shelter, my friend?" the soft voice said. "I am
+afraid you are chilled."
+
+The Gadfly's heart stood still. For a moment he was conscious of nothing
+but the sickening pressure of the blood that seemed as if it would tear
+his breast asunder; then it rushed back, tingling and burning through
+all his body, and he looked up. The grave, deep eyes above him grew
+suddenly tender with divine compassion at the sight of his face.
+
+"Stand bark a little, friends," Montanelli said, turning to the crowd;
+"I want to speak to him."
+
+The people fell slowly back, whispering to each other, and the Gadfly,
+sitting motionless, with teeth clenched and eyes on the ground, felt the
+gentle touch of Montanelli's hand upon his shoulder.
+
+"You have had some great trouble. Can I do anything to help you?"
+
+The Gadfly shook his head in silence.
+
+"Are you a pilgrim?"
+
+"I am a miserable sinner."
+
+The accidental similarity of Montanelli's question to the password came
+like a chance straw, that the Gadfly, in his desperation, caught at,
+answering automatically. He had begun to tremble under the soft pressure
+of the hand that seemed to burn upon his shoulder.
+
+The Cardinal bent down closer to him.
+
+"Perhaps you would care to speak to me alone? If I can be any help to
+you----"
+
+For the first time the Gadfly looked straight and steadily into
+Montanelli's eyes; he was already recovering his self-command.
+
+"It would be no use," he said; "the thing is hopeless."
+
+A police official stepped forward out of the crowd.
+
+"Forgive my intruding, Your Eminence. I think the old man is not quite
+sound in his mind. He is perfectly harmless, and his papers are in
+order, so we don't interfere with him. He has been in penal servitude
+for a great crime, and is now doing penance."
+
+"A great crime," the Gadfly repeated, shaking his head slowly.
+
+"Thank you, captain; stand aside a little, please. My friend, nothing is
+hopeless if a man has sincerely repented. Will you not come to me this
+evening?"
+
+"Would Your Eminence receive a man who is guilty of the death of his own
+son?"
+
+The question had almost the tone of a challenge, and Montanelli shrank
+and shivered under it as under a cold wind.
+
+"God forbid that I should condemn you, whatever you have done!" he said
+solemnly. "In His sight we are all guilty alike, and our righteousness
+is as filthy rags. If you will come to me I will receive you as I pray
+that He may one day receive me."
+
+The Gadfly stretched out his hands with a sudden gesture of passion.
+
+"Listen!" he said; "and listen all of you, Christians! If a man has
+killed his only son--his son who loved and trusted him, who was flesh of
+his flesh and bone of his bone; if he has led his son into a death-trap
+with lies and deceit--is there hope for that man in earth or heaven?
+I have confessed my sin before God and man, and I have suffered the
+punishment that men have laid on me, and they have let me go; but when
+will God say, 'It is enough'? What benediction will take away His curse
+from my soul? What absolution will undo this thing that I have done?"
+
+In the dead silence that followed the people looked at Montanelli, and
+saw the heaving of the cross upon his breast.
+
+He raised his eyes at last, and gave the benediction with a hand that
+was not quite steady.
+
+"God is merciful," he said. "Lay your burden before His throne; for it
+is written: 'A broken and contrite heart shalt thou not despise.'"
+
+He turned away and walked through the market-place, stopping everywhere
+to speak to the people, and to take their children in his arms.
+
+In the evening the Gadfly, following the directions written on the
+wrapping of the image, made his way to the appointed meeting-place. It
+was the house of a local doctor, who was an active member of the "sect."
+Most of the conspirators were already assembled, and their delight at
+the Gadfly's arrival gave him a new proof, if he had needed one, of his
+popularity as a leader.
+
+"We're glad enough to see you again," said the doctor; "but we shall be
+gladder still to see you go. It's a fearfully risky business, and I, for
+one, was against the plan. Are you quite sure none of those police rats
+noticed you in the market-place this morning?"
+
+"Oh, they n-noticed me enough, but they d-didn't recognize me.
+Domenichino m-managed the thing capitally. But where is he? I don't see
+him."
+
+"He has not come yet. So you got on all smoothly? Did the Cardinal give
+you his blessing?"
+
+"His blessing? Oh, that's nothing," said Domenichino, coming in at the
+door. "Rivarez, you're as full of surprises as a Christmas cake. How
+many more talents are you going to astonish us with?"
+
+"What is it now?" asked the Gadfly languidly. He was leaning back on a
+sofa, smoking a cigar. He still wore his pilgrim's dress, but the white
+beard and wig lay beside him.
+
+"I had no idea you were such an actor. I never saw a thing done so
+magnificently in my life. You nearly moved His Eminence to tears."
+
+"How was that? Let us hear, Rivarez."
+
+The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. He was in a taciturn and laconic
+mood, and the others, seeing that nothing was to be got out of him,
+appealed to Domenichino to explain. When the scene in the market-place
+had been related, one young workman, who had not joined in the laughter
+of the rest, remarked abruptly:
+
+"It was very clever, of course; but I don't see what good all this
+play-acting business has done to anybody."
+
+"Just this much," the Gadfly put in; "that I can go where I like and do
+what I like anywhere in this district, and not a single man, woman, or
+child will ever think of suspecting me. The story will be all over the
+place by to-morrow, and when I meet a spy he will only think: 'It's
+mad Diego, that confessed his sins in the market-place.' That is an
+advantage gained, surely."
+
+"Yes, I see. Still, I wish the thing could have been done without
+fooling the Cardinal. He's too good to have that sort of trick played on
+him."
+
+"I thought myself he seemed fairly decent," the Gadfly lazily assented.
+
+"Nonsense, Sandro! We don't want Cardinals here!" said Domenichino.
+"And if Monsignor Montanelli had taken that post in Rome when he had the
+chance of getting it, Rivarez couldn't have fooled him."
+
+"He wouldn't take it because he didn't want to leave his work here."
+
+"More likely because he didn't want to get poisoned off by
+Lambruschini's agents. They've got something against him, you may depend
+upon it. When a Cardinal, especially such a popular one, 'prefers to
+stay' in a God-forsaken little hole like this, we all know what that
+means--don't we, Rivarez?"
+
+The Gadfly was making smoke-rings. "Perhaps it is a c-c-case of a
+'b-b-broken and contrite heart,'" he remarked, leaning his head back to
+watch them float away. "And now, men, let us get to business."
+
+They began to discuss in detail the various plans which had been formed
+for the smuggling and concealment of weapons. The Gadfly listened with
+keen attention, interrupting every now and then to correct sharply some
+inaccurate statement or imprudent proposal. When everyone had finished
+speaking, he made a few practical suggestions, most of which were
+adopted without discussion. The meeting then broke up. It had been
+resolved that, at least until he was safely back in Tuscany, very
+late meetings, which might attract the notice of the police, should
+be avoided. By a little after ten o'clock all had dispersed except the
+doctor, the Gadfly, and Domenichino, who remained as a sub-committee
+for the discussion of special points. After a long and hot dispute,
+Domenichino looked up at the clock.
+
+"Half-past eleven; we mustn't stop any longer or the night-watchman may
+see us."
+
+"When does he pass?" asked the Gadfly.
+
+"About twelve o'clock; and I want to be home before he comes.
+Good-night, Giordani. Rivarez, shall we walk together?"
+
+"No; I think we are safer apart. Then I shall see you again?"
+
+"Yes; at Castel Bolognese. I don't know yet what disguise I shall be in,
+but you have the password. You leave here to-morrow, I think?"
+
+The Gadfly was carefully putting on his beard and wig before the
+looking-glass.
+
+"To-morrow morning, with the pilgrims. On the next day I fall ill and
+stop behind in a shepherd's hut, and then take a short cut across the
+hills. I shall be down there before you will. Good-night!"
+
+Twelve o'clock was striking from the Cathedral bell-tower as the Gadfly
+looked in at the door of the great empty barn which had been thrown
+open as a lodging for the pilgrims. The floor was covered with
+clumsy figures, most of which were snoring lustily, and the air was
+insufferably close and foul. He drew back with a little shudder of
+repugnance; it would be useless to attempt to sleep in there; he would
+take a walk, and then find some shed or haystack which would, at least,
+be clean and quiet.
+
+It was a glorious night, with a great full moon gleaming in a purple
+sky. He began to wander through the streets in an aimless way, brooding
+miserably over the scene of the morning, and wishing that he had never
+consented to Domenichino's plan of holding the meeting in Brisighella.
+If at the beginning he had declared the project too dangerous, some
+other place would have been chosen; and both he and Montanelli would
+have been spared this ghastly, ridiculous farce.
+
+How changed the Padre was! And yet his voice was not changed at all; it
+was just the same as in the old days, when he used to say: "Carino."
+
+The lantern of the night-watchman appeared at the other end of the
+street, and the Gadfly turned down a narrow, crooked alley. After
+walking a few yards he found himself in the Cathedral Square, close
+to the left wing of the episcopal palace. The square was flooded with
+moonlight, and there was no one in sight; but he noticed that a side
+door of the Cathedral was ajar. The sacristan must have forgotten to
+shut it. Surely nothing could be going on there so late at night. He
+might as well go in and sleep on one of the benches instead of in the
+stifling barn; he could slip out in the morning before the sacristan
+came; and even if anyone did find him, the natural supposition would be
+that mad Diego had been saying his prayers in some corner, and had got
+shut in.
+
+He listened a moment at the door, and then entered with the noiseless
+step that he had retained notwithstanding his lameness. The moonlight
+streamed through the windows, and lay in broad bands on the marble
+floor. In the chancel, especially, everything was as clearly visible as
+by daylight. At the foot of the altar steps Cardinal Montanelli knelt
+alone, bare-headed, with clasped hands.
+
+The Gadfly drew back into the shadow. Should he slip away before
+Montanelli saw him? That, no doubt, would be the wisest thing to
+do--perhaps the most merciful. And yet, what harm could it do for him to
+go just a little nearer--to look at the Padre's face once more, now that
+the crowd was gone, and there was no need to keep up the hideous comedy
+of the morning? Perhaps it would be his last chance--and the Padre need
+not see him; he would steal up softly and look--just this once. Then he
+would go back to his work.
+
+Keeping in the shadow of the pillars, he crept softly up to the chancel
+rails, and paused at the side entrance, close to the altar. The shadow
+of the episcopal throne was broad enough to cover him, and he crouched
+down in the darkness, holding his breath.
+
+"My poor boy! Oh, God; my poor boy!"
+
+The broken whisper was full of such endless despair that the Gadfly
+shuddered in spite of himself. Then came deep, heavy, tearless sobs; and
+he saw Montanelli wring his hands together like a man in bodily pain.
+
+He had not thought it would be so bad as this. How often had he said to
+himself with bitter assurance: "I need not trouble about it; that wound
+was healed long ago." Now, after all these years, it was laid bare
+before him, and he saw it bleeding still. And how easy it would be to
+heal it now at last! He need only lift his hand--only step forward and
+say: "Padre, it is I." There was Gemma, too, with that white streak
+across her hair. Oh, if he could but forgive! If he could but cut out
+from his memory the past that was burned into it so deep--the Lascar,
+and the sugar-plantation, and the variety show! Surely there was no
+other misery like this--to be willing to forgive, to long to forgive;
+and to know that it was hopeless--that he could not, dared not forgive.
+
+Montanelli rose at last, made the sign of the cross, and turned
+away from the altar. The Gadfly shrank further back into the shadow,
+trembling with fear lest he should be seen, lest the very beating of
+his heart should betray him; then he drew a long breath of relief.
+Montanelli had passed him, so close that the violet robe had brushed
+against his cheek,--had passed and had not seen him.
+
+Had not seen him---- Oh, what had he done? This had been his last
+chance--this one precious moment--and he had let it slip away. He
+started up and stepped into the light.
+
+"Padre!"
+
+The sound of his own voice, ringing up and dying away along the arches
+of the roof, filled him with fantastic terror. He shrank back again into
+the shadow. Montanelli stood beside the pillar, motionless, listening
+with wide-open eyes, full of the horror of death. How long the silence
+lasted the Gadfly could not tell; it might have been an instant, or
+an eternity. He came to his senses with a sudden shock. Montanelli was
+beginning to sway as though he would fall, and his lips moved, at first
+silently.
+
+"Arthur!" the low whisper came at last; "yes, the water is deep----"
+
+The Gadfly came forward.
+
+"Forgive me, Your Eminence! I thought it was one of the priests."
+
+"Ah, it is the pilgrim?" Montanelli had at once recovered his
+self-control, though the Gadfly could see, from the restless glitter of
+the sapphire on his hand, that he was still trembling. "Are you in
+need of anything, my friend? It is late, and the Cathedral is closed at
+night."
+
+"I beg pardon, Your Eminence, if I have done wrong. I saw the door
+open, and came in to pray, and when I saw a priest, as I thought, in
+meditation, I waited to ask a blessing on this."
+
+He held up the little tin cross that he had bought from Domenichino.
+Montanelli took it from his hand, and, re-entering the chancel, laid it
+for a moment on the altar.
+
+"Take it, my son," he said, "and be at rest, for the Lord is tender
+and pitiful. Go to Rome, and ask the blessing of His minister, the Holy
+Father. Peace be with you!"
+
+The Gadfly bent his head to receive the benediction, and turned slowly
+away.
+
+"Stop!" said Montanelli.
+
+He was standing with one hand on the chancel rail.
+
+"When you receive the Holy Eucharist in Rome," he said, "pray for one in
+deep affliction--for one on whose soul the hand of the Lord is heavy."
+
+There were almost tears in his voice, and the Gadfly's resolution
+wavered. Another instant and he would have betrayed himself. Then the
+thought of the variety-show came up again, and he remembered, like
+Jonah, that he did well to be angry.
+
+"Who am I, that He should hear my prayers? A leper and an outcast! If I
+could bring to His throne, as Your Eminence can, the offering of a holy
+life--of a soul without spot or secret shame------"
+
+Montanelli turned abruptly away.
+
+"I have only one offering to give," he said; "a broken heart."
+
+    *****
+
+A few days later the Gadfly returned to Florence in the diligence from
+Pistoja. He went straight to Gemma's lodgings, but she was out. Leaving
+a message that he would return in the morning he went home, sincerely
+hoping that he should not again find his study invaded by Zita. Her
+jealous reproaches would act on his nerves, if he were to hear much of
+them to-night, like the rasping of a dentist's file.
+
+"Good-evening, Bianca," he said when the maid-servant opened the door.
+"Has Mme. Reni been here to-day?"
+
+She stared at him blankly
+
+"Mme. Reni? Has she come back, then, sir?"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked with a frown, stopping short on the mat.
+
+"She went away quite suddenly, just after you did, and left all her
+things behind her. She never so much as said she was going."
+
+"Just after I did? What, a f-fortnight ago?"
+
+"Yes, sir, the same day; and her things are lying about
+higgledy-piggledy. All the neighbours are talking about it."
+
+He turned away from the door-step without speaking, and went hastily
+down the lane to the house where Zita had been lodging. In her rooms
+nothing had been touched; all the presents that he had given her were in
+their usual places; there was no letter or scrap of writing anywhere.
+
+"If you please, sir," said Bianca, putting her head in at the door,
+"there's an old woman----"
+
+He turned round fiercely.
+
+"What do you want here--following me about?"
+
+"An old woman wishes to see you."
+
+"What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see her; I'm busy."
+
+"She has been coming nearly every evening since you went away, sir,
+always asking when you would come back."
+
+"Ask her w-what her business is. No; never mind; I suppose I must go
+myself."
+
+The old woman was waiting at his hall door. She was very poorly dressed,
+with a face as brown and wrinkled as a medlar, and a bright-coloured
+scarf twisted round her head. As he came in she rose and looked at him
+with keen black eyes.
+
+"You are the lame gentleman," she said, inspecting him critically from
+head to foot. "I have brought you a message from Zita Reni."
+
+He opened the study door, and held it for her to pass in; then followed
+her and shut the door, that Bianca might not hear.
+
+"Sit down, please. N-now, tell me who you are."
+
+"It's no business of yours who I am. I have come to tell you that Zita
+Reni has gone away with my son."
+
+"With--your--son?"
+
+"Yes, sir; if you don't know how to keep your mistress when you've got
+her, you can't complain if other men take her. My son has blood in his
+veins, not milk and water; he comes of the Romany folk."
+
+"Ah, you are a gipsy! Zita has gone back to her own people, then?"
+
+She looked at him in amazed contempt. Apparently, these Christians had
+not even manhood enough to be angry when they were insulted.
+
+"What sort of stuff are you made of, that she should stay with you? Our
+women may lend themselves to you a bit for a girl's fancy, or if you pay
+them well; but the Romany blood comes back to the Romany folk."
+
+The Gadfly's face remained as cold and steady as before.
+
+"Has she gone away with a gipsy camp, or merely to live with your son?"
+
+The woman burst out laughing.
+
+"Do you think of following her and trying to win her back? It's too
+late, sir; you should have thought of that before!"
+
+"No; I only want to know the truth, if you will tell it to me."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders; it was hardly worth while to abuse a person
+who took it so meekly.
+
+"The truth, then, is that she met my son in the road the day you left
+her, and spoke to him in the Romany tongue; and when he saw she was
+one of our folk, in spite of her fine clothes, he fell in love with her
+bonny face, as OUR men fall in love, and took her to our camp. She told
+us all her trouble, and sat crying and sobbing, poor lassie, till our
+hearts were sore for her. We comforted her as best we could; and at last
+she took off her fine clothes and put on the things our lasses wear, and
+gave herself to my son, to be his woman and to have him for her man. He
+won't say to her: 'I don't love you,' and: 'I've other things to do.'
+When a woman is young, she wants a man; and what sort of man are you,
+that you can't even kiss a handsome girl when she puts her arms round
+your neck?"
+
+"You said," he interrupted, "that you had brought me a message from
+her."
+
+"Yes; I stopped behind when the camp went on, so as to give it. She told
+me to say that she has had enough of your folk and their hair-splitting
+and their sluggish blood; and that she wants to get back to her own
+people and be free. 'Tell him,' she said, 'that I am a woman, and that
+I loved him; and that is why I would not be his harlot any longer.' The
+lassie was right to come away. There's no harm in a girl getting a bit
+of money out of her good looks if she can--that's what good looks are
+for; but a Romany lass has nothing to do with LOVING a man of your
+race."
+
+The Gadfly stood up.
+
+"Is that all the message?" he said. "Then tell her, please, that I think
+she has done right, and that I hope she will be happy. That is all I
+have to say. Good-night!"
+
+He stood perfectly still until the garden gate closed behind her; then
+he sat down and covered his face with both hands.
+
+Another blow on the cheek! Was no rag of pride to be left him--no shred
+of self-respect? Surely he had suffered everything that man can endure;
+his very heart had been dragged in the mud and trampled under the
+feet of the passers-by; there was no spot in his soul where someone's
+contempt was not branded in, where someone's mockery had not left
+its iron trace. And now this gipsy girl, whom he had picked up by the
+wayside--even she had the whip in her hand.
+
+Shaitan whined at the door, and the Gadfly rose to let him in. The
+dog rushed up to his master with his usual frantic manifestations of
+delight, but soon, understanding that something was wrong, lay down on
+the rug beside him, and thrust a cold nose into the listless hand.
+
+An hour later Gemma came up to the front door. No one appeared in answer
+to her knock; Bianca, finding that the Gadfly did not want any dinner,
+had slipped out to visit a neighbour's cook. She had left the door open,
+and a light burning in the hall. Gemma, after waiting for some time,
+decided to enter and try if she could find the Gadfly, as she wished to
+speak to him about an important message which had come from Bailey. She
+knocked at the study door, and the Gadfly's voice answered from within:
+"You can go away, Bianca. I don't want anything."
+
+She softly opened the door. The room was quite dark, but the passage
+lamp threw a long stream of light across it as she entered, and she
+saw the Gadfly sitting alone, his head sunk on his breast, and the dog
+asleep at his feet.
+
+"It is I," she said.
+
+He started up. "Gemma,---- Gemma! Oh, I have wanted you so!"
+
+Before she could speak he was kneeling on the floor at her feet and
+hiding his face in the folds of her dress. His whole body was shaken
+with a convulsive tremor that was worse to see than tears.
+
+She stood still. There was nothing she could do to help him--nothing.
+This was the bitterest thing of all. She must stand by and look on
+passively--she who would have died to spare him pain. Could she but dare
+to stoop and clasp her arms about him, to hold him close against her
+heart and shield him, were it with her own body, from all further harm
+or wrong; surely then he would be Arthur to her again; surely then the
+day would break and the shadows flee away.
+
+Ah, no, no! How could he ever forget? Was it not she who had cast him
+into hell--she, with her own right hand?
+
+She had let the moment slip by. He rose hastily and sat down by the
+table, covering his eyes with one hand and biting his lip as if he would
+bite it through.
+
+Presently he looked up and said quietly:
+
+"I am afraid I startled you."
+
+She held out both her hands to him. "Dear," she said, "are we not
+friends enough by now for you to trust me a little bit? What is it?"
+
+"Only a private trouble of my own. I don't see why you should be worried
+over it."
+
+"Listen a moment," she went on, taking his hand in both of hers to
+steady its convulsive trembling. "I have not tried to lay hands on a
+thing that is not mine to touch. But now that you have given me, of your
+own free will, so much of your confidence, will you not give me a little
+more--as you would do if I were your sister. Keep the mask on your face,
+if it is any consolation to you, but don't wear a mask on your soul, for
+your own sake."
+
+He bent his head lower. "You must be patient with me," he said. "I am
+an unsatisfactory sort of brother to have, I'm afraid; but if you only
+knew---- I have been nearly mad this last week. It has been like South
+America again. And somehow the devil gets into me and----" He broke off.
+
+"May I not have my share in your trouble?" she whispered at last.
+
+His head sank down on her arm. "The hand of the Lord is heavy."
+
+
+
+
+
+PART III.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE next five weeks were spent by Gemma and the Gadfly in a whirl
+of excitement and overwork which left them little time or energy for
+thinking about their personal affairs. When the arms had been safely
+smuggled into Papal territory there remained a still more difficult and
+dangerous task: that of conveying them unobserved from the secret stores
+in the mountain caverns and ravines to the various local centres and
+thence to the separate villages. The whole district was swarming with
+spies; and Domenichino, to whom the Gadfly had intrusted the ammunition,
+sent into Florence a messenger with an urgent appeal for either help or
+extra time. The Gadfly had insisted that the work should be finished
+by the middle of June; and what with the difficulty of conveying heavy
+transports over bad roads, and the endless hindrances and delays caused
+by the necessity of continually evading observation, Domenichino was
+growing desperate. "I am between Scylla and Charybdis," he wrote. "I
+dare not work quickly, for fear of detection, and I must not work slowly
+if we are to be ready in time. Either send me efficient help at once, or
+let the Venetians know that we shall not be ready till the first week in
+July."
+
+The Gadfly carried the letter to Gemma and, while she read it, sat
+frowning at the floor and stroking the cat's fur the wrong way.
+
+"This is bad," she said. "We can hardly keep the Venetians waiting for
+three weeks."
+
+"Of course we can't; the thing is absurd. Domenichino m-might
+unders-s-stand that. We must follow the lead of the Venetians, not they
+ours."
+
+"I don't see that Domenichino is to blame; he has evidently done his
+best, and he can't do impossibilities."
+
+"It's not in Domenichino that the fault lies; it's in the fact of
+his being one person instead of two. We ought to have at least one
+responsible man to guard the store and another to see the transports
+off. He is quite right; he must have efficient help."
+
+"But what help are we going to give him? We have no one in Florence to
+send."
+
+"Then I m-must go myself."
+
+She leaned back in her chair and looked at him with a little frown.
+
+"No, that won't do; it's too risky."
+
+"It will have to do if we can't f-f-find any other way out of the
+difficulty."
+
+"Then we must find another way, that's all. It's out of the question for
+you to go again just now."
+
+An obstinate line appeared at the corners of his under lip.
+
+"I d-don't see that it's out of the question."
+
+"You will see if you think about the thing calmly for a minute. It is
+only five weeks since you got back; the police are on the scent about
+that pilgrim business, and scouring the country to find a clue. Yes, I
+know you are clever at disguises; but remember what a lot of people saw
+you, both as Diego and as the countryman; and you can't disguise your
+lameness or the scar on your face."
+
+"There are p-plenty of lame people in the world."
+
+"Yes, but there are not plenty of people in the Romagna with a lame foot
+and a sabre-cut across the cheek and a left arm injured like yours, and
+the combination of blue eyes with such dark colouring."
+
+"The eyes don't matter; I can alter them with belladonna."
+
+"You can't alter the other things. No, it won't do. For you to go there
+just now, with all your identification-marks, would be to walk into a
+trap with your eyes open. You would certainly be taken."
+
+"But s-s-someone must help Domenichino."
+
+"It will be no help to him to have you caught at a critical moment like
+this. Your arrest would mean the failure of the whole thing."
+
+But the Gadfly was difficult to convince, and the discussion went on
+and on without coming nearer to any settlement. Gemma was beginning to
+realize how nearly inexhaustible was the fund of quiet obstinacy in
+his character; and, had the matter not been one about which she felt
+strongly, she would probably have yielded for the sake of peace. This,
+however, was a case in which she could not conscientiously give way; the
+practical advantage to be gained from the proposed journey seemed to her
+not sufficiently important to be worth the risk, and she could not help
+suspecting that his desire to go was prompted less by a conviction of
+grave political necessity than by a morbid craving for the excitement of
+danger. He had got into the habit of risking his neck, and his tendency
+to run into unnecessary peril seemed to her a form of intemperance
+which should be quietly but steadily resisted. Finding all her arguments
+unavailing against his dogged resolve to go his own way, she fired her
+last shot.
+
+"Let us be honest about it, anyway," she said; "and call things by
+their true names. It is not Domenichino's difficulty that makes you so
+determined to go. It is your own personal passion for----"
+
+"It's not true!" he interrupted vehemently. "He is nothing to me; I
+don't care if I never see him again."
+
+He broke off, seeing in her face that he had betrayed himself. Their
+eyes met for an instant, and dropped; and neither of them uttered the
+name that was in both their minds.
+
+"It--it is not Domenichino I want to save," he stammered at last, with
+his face half buried in the cat's fur; "it is that I--I understand the
+danger of the work failing if he has no help."
+
+She passed over the feeble little subterfuge, and went on as if there
+had been no interruption:
+
+"It is your passion for running into danger which makes you want to go
+there. You have the same craving for danger when you are worried that
+you had for opium when you were ill."
+
+"It was not I that asked for the opium," he said defiantly; "it was the
+others who insisted on giving it to me."
+
+"I dare say. You plume yourself a little on your stoicism, and to
+ask for physical relief would have hurt your pride; but it is rather
+flattered than otherwise when you risk your life to relieve the
+irritation of your nerves. And yet, after all, the distinction is a
+merely conventional one."
+
+He drew the cat's head back and looked down into the round, green eyes.
+"Is it true, Pasht?" he said. "Are all these unkind things true that
+your mistress is s-saying about me? Is it a case of mea culpa; mea
+m-maxima culpa? You wise beast, you never ask for opium, do you? Your
+ancestors were gods in Egypt, and no man t-trod on their tails. I
+wonder, though, what would become of your calm superiority to earthly
+ills if I were to take this paw of yours and hold it in the c-candle.
+Would you ask me for opium then? Would you? Or perhaps--for death? No,
+pussy, we have no right to die for our personal convenience. We may spit
+and s-swear a bit, if it consoles us; but we mustn't pull the paw away."
+
+"Hush!" She took the cat off his knee and put it down on a footstool.
+"You and I will have time for thinking about those things later on. What
+we have to think of now is how to get Domenichino out of his difficulty.
+What is it, Katie; a visitor? I am busy."
+
+"Miss Wright has sent you this, ma'am, by hand."
+
+The packet, which was carefully sealed, contained a letter, addressed
+to Miss Wright, but unopened and with a Papal stamp. Gemma's old school
+friends still lived in Florence, and her more important letters were
+often received, for safety, at their address.
+
+"It is Michele's mark," she said, glancing quickly over the letter,
+which seemed to be about the summer-terms at a boarding house in the
+Apennines, and pointing to two little blots on a corner of the page.
+"It is in chemical ink; the reagent is in the third drawer of the
+writing-table. Yes; that is it."
+
+He laid the letter open on the desk and passed a little brush over its
+pages. When the real message stood out on the paper in a brilliant blue
+line, he leaned back in his chair and burst out laughing.
+
+"What is it?" she asked hurriedly. He handed her the paper.
+
+"DOMENICHINO HAS BEEN ARRESTED. COME AT ONCE."
+
+She sat down with the paper in her hand and stared hopelessly at the
+Gadfly.
+
+"W-well?" he said at last, with his soft, ironical drawl; "are you
+satisfied now that I must go?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose you must," she answered, sighing. "And I too."
+
+He looked up with a little start. "You too? But----"
+
+"Of course. It will be very awkward, I know, to be left without anyone
+here in Florence; but everything must go to the wall now except the
+providing of an extra pair of hands."
+
+"There are plenty of hands to be got there."
+
+"They don't belong to people whom you can trust thoroughly, though. You
+said yourself just now that there must be two responsible persons
+in charge; and if Domenichino couldn't manage alone it is evidently
+impossible for you to do so. A person as desperately compromised as you
+are is very much handicapped, remember, in work of that kind, and
+more dependent on help than anyone else would be. Instead of you and
+Domenichino, it must be you and I."
+
+He considered for a moment, frowning.
+
+"Yes, you are quite right," he said; "and the sooner we go the better.
+But we must not start together. If I go off to-night, you can take, say,
+the afternoon coach to-morrow."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"That we must discuss. I think I had b-b-better go straight in to
+Faenza. If I start late to-night and ride to Borgo San Lorenzo I can get
+my disguise arranged there and go straight on."
+
+"I don't see what else we can do," she said, with an anxious little
+frown; "but it is very risky, your going off in such a hurry and
+trusting to the smugglers finding you a disguise at Borgo. You ought to
+have at least three clear days to double on your trace before you cross
+the frontier."
+
+"You needn't be afraid," he answered, smiling; "I may get taken further
+on, but not at the frontier. Once in the hills I am as safe as here;
+there's not a smuggler in the Apennines that would betray me. What I am
+not quite sure about is how you are to get across."
+
+"Oh, that is very simple! I shall take Louisa Wright's passport and go
+for a holiday. No one knows me in the Romagna, but every spy knows you."
+
+"F-fortunately, so does every smuggler."
+
+She took out her watch.
+
+"Half-past two. We have the afternoon and evening, then, if you are to
+start to-night."
+
+"Then the best thing will be for me to go home and settle everything
+now, and arrange about a good horse. I shall ride in to San Lorenzo; it
+will be safer."
+
+"But it won't be safe at all to hire a horse. The owner will-----"
+
+"I shan't hire one. I know a man that will lend me a horse, and that can
+be trusted. He has done things for me before. One of the shepherds
+will bring it back in a fortnight. I shall be here again by five or
+half-past, then; and while I am gone, I w-want you to go and find
+Martini and exp-plain everything to him."
+
+"Martini!" She turned round and looked at him in astonishment.
+
+"Yes; we must take him into confidence--unless you can think of anyone
+else."
+
+"I don't quite understand what you mean."
+
+"We must have someone here whom we can trust, in case of any special
+difficulty; and of all the set here Martini is the man in whom I have
+most confidence. Riccardo would do anything he could for us, of course;
+but I think Martini has a steadier head. Still, you know him better than
+I do; it is as you think."
+
+"I have not the slightest doubt as to Martini's trustworthiness and
+efficiency in every respect; and I think he would probably consent to
+give us any help he could. But----"
+
+He understood at once.
+
+"Gemma, what would you feel if you found out that a comrade in bitter
+need had not asked you for help you might have given, for fear of
+hurting or distressing you? Would you say there was any true kindness in
+that?"
+
+"Very well," she said, after a little pause; "I will send Katie round at
+once and ask him to come; and while she is gone I will go to Louisa for
+her passport; she promised to lend it whenever I want one. What about
+money? Shall I draw some out of the bank?"
+
+"No; don't waste time on that; I can draw enough from my account to last
+us for a bit. We will fall back on yours later on if my balance runs
+short. Till half-past five, then; I shall be sure to find you here, of
+course?"
+
+"Oh, yes! I shall be back long before then."
+
+Half an hour after the appointed time he returned, and found Gemma
+and Martini sitting on the terrace together. He saw at once that their
+conversation had been a distressing one; the traces of agitation were
+visible in both of them, and Martini was unusually silent and glum.
+
+"Have you arranged everything?" she asked, looking up.
+
+"Yes; and I have brought you some money for the journey. The horse will
+be ready for me at the Ponte Rosso barrier at one in the night."
+
+"Is not that rather late? You ought to get into San Lorenzo before the
+people are up in the morning."
+
+"So I shall; it's a very fast horse; and I don't want to leave here
+when there's a chance of anyone noticing me. I shan't go home any more;
+there's a spy watching at the door, and he thinks me in."
+
+"How did you get out without his seeing you?"
+
+"Out of the kitchen window into the back garden and over the neighbour's
+orchard wall; that's what makes me so late; I had to dodge him. I left
+the owner of the horse to sit in the study all the evening with the lamp
+lighted. When the spy sees the light in the window and a shadow on
+the blind he will be quite satisfied that I am writing at home this
+evening."
+
+"Then you will stay here till it is time to go to the barrier?"
+
+"Yes; I don't want to be seen in the street any more to-night. Have a
+cigar, Martini? I know Signora Bolla doesn't mind smoke."
+
+"I shan't be here to mind; I must go downstairs and help Katie with the
+dinner."
+
+When she had gone Martini got up and began to pace to and fro with his
+hands behind his back. The Gadfly sat smoking and looking silently out
+at the drizzling rain.
+
+"Rivarez!" Martini began, stopping in front of him, but keeping his eyes
+on the ground; "what sort of thing are you going to drag her into?"
+
+The Gadfly took the cigar from his mouth and blew away a long trail of
+smoke.
+
+"She has chosen for herself," he said, "without compulsion on anyone's
+part."
+
+"Yes, yes--I know. But tell me----"
+
+He stopped.
+
+"I will tell you anything I can."
+
+"Well, then--I don't know much about the details of these affairs in the
+hills,--are you going to take her into any very serious danger?"
+
+"Do you want the truth?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then--yes."
+
+Martini turned away and went on pacing up and down. Presently he stopped
+again.
+
+"I want to ask you another question. If you don't choose to answer it,
+you needn't, of course; but if you do answer, then answer honestly. Are
+you in love with her?"
+
+The Gadfly deliberately knocked the ash from his cigar and went on
+smoking in silence.
+
+"That means--that you don't choose to answer?"
+
+"No; only that I think I have a right to know why you ask me that."
+
+"Why? Good God, man, can't you see why?"
+
+"Ah!" He laid down his cigar and looked steadily at Martini. "Yes," he
+said at last, slowly and softly. "I am in love with her. But you needn't
+think I am going to make love to her, or worry about it. I am only going
+to----"
+
+His voice died away in a strange, faint whisper. Martini came a step
+nearer.
+
+"Only going--to----"
+
+"To die."
+
+He was staring straight before him with a cold, fixed look, as if he
+were dead already. When he spoke again his voice was curiously lifeless
+and even.
+
+"You needn't worry her about it beforehand," he said; "but there's not
+the ghost of a chance for me. It's dangerous for everyone; that she
+knows as well as I do; but the smugglers will do their best to prevent
+her getting taken. They are good fellows, though they are a bit rough.
+As for me, the rope is round my neck, and when I cross the frontier I
+pull the noose."
+
+"Rivarez, what do you mean? Of course it's dangerous, and particularly
+so for you; I understand that; but you have often crossed the frontier
+before and always been successful."
+
+"Yes, and this time I shall fail."
+
+"But why? How can you know?"
+
+The Gadfly smiled drearily.
+
+"Do you remember the German legend of the man that died when he met his
+own Double? No? It appeared to him at night in a lonely place, wringing
+its hands in despair. Well, I met mine the last time I was in the hills;
+and when I cross the frontier again I shan't come back."
+
+Martini came up to him and put a hand on the back of his chair.
+
+"Listen, Rivarez; I don't understand a word of all this metaphysical
+stuff, but I do understand one thing: If you feel about it that way, you
+are not in a fit state to go. The surest way to get taken is to go with
+a conviction that you will be taken. You must be ill, or out of sorts
+somehow, to get maggots of that kind into your head. Suppose I go
+instead of you? I can do any practical work there is to be done, and you
+can send a message to your men, explaining------"
+
+"And let you get killed instead? That would be very clever."
+
+"Oh, I'm not likely to get killed! They don't know me as they do you.
+And, besides, even if I did------"
+
+He stopped, and the Gadfly looked up with a slow, inquiring gaze.
+Martini's hand dropped by his side.
+
+"She very likely wouldn't miss me as much as she would you," he said
+in his most matter-of-fact voice. "And then, besides, Rivarez, this is
+public business, and we have to look at it from the point of view
+of utility--the greatest good of the greatest number. Your 'final
+value'---isn't that what the economists call it?--is higher than mine;
+I have brains enough to see that, though I haven't any cause to be
+particularly fond of you. You are a bigger man than I am; I'm not sure
+that you are a better one, but there's more of you, and your death would
+be a greater loss than mine."
+
+From the way he spoke he might have been discussing the value of shares
+on the Exchange. The Gadfly looked up, shivering as if with cold.
+
+"Would you have me wait till my grave opens of itself to swallow me up?
+
+
+                "If I must die,
+    I will encounter darkness as a bride----
+
+Look here, Martini, you and I are talking nonsense."
+
+"You are, certainly," said Martini gruffly.
+
+"Yes, and so are you. For Heaven's sake, don't let's go in for romantic
+self-sacrifice, like Don Carlos and Marquis Posa. This is the nineteenth
+century; and if it's my business to die, I have got to do it."
+
+"And if it's my business to live, I have got to do that, I suppose.
+You're the lucky one, Rivarez."
+
+"Yes," the Gadfly assented laconically; "I was always lucky."
+
+They smoked in silence for a few minutes, and then began to talk of
+business details. When Gemma came up to call them to dinner, neither of
+them betrayed in face or manner that their conversation had been in any
+way unusual. After dinner they sat discussing plans and making necessary
+arrangements till eleven o'clock, when Martini rose and took his hat.
+
+"I will go home and fetch that riding-cloak of mine, Rivarez. I think
+you will be less recognizable in it than in your light suit. I want to
+reconnoitre a bit, too, and make sure there are no spies about before we
+start."
+
+"Are you coming with me to the barrier?"
+
+"Yes; it's safer to have four eyes than two in case of anyone following
+you. I'll be back by twelve. Be sure you don't start without me. I had
+better take the key, Gemma, so as not to wake anyone by ringing."
+
+She raised her eyes to his face as he took the keys. She understood that
+he had invented a pretext in order to leave her alone with the Gadfly.
+
+"You and I will talk to-morrow," she said. "We shall have time in the
+morning, when my packing is finished."
+
+"Oh, yes! Plenty of time. There are two or three little things I want
+to ask you about, Rivarez; but we can talk them over on our way to the
+barrier. You had better send Katie to bed, Gemma; and be as quiet as you
+can, both of you. Good-bye till twelve, then."
+
+He went away with a little nod and smile, banging the door after him to
+let the neighbours hear that Signora Bolla's visitor was gone.
+
+Gemma went out into the kitchen to say good-night to Katie, and came
+back with black coffee on a tray.
+
+"Would you like to lie down a bit?" she said. "You won't have any sleep
+the rest of the night."
+
+"Oh, dear no! I shall sleep at San Lorenzo while the men are getting my
+disguise ready."
+
+"Then have some coffee. Wait a minute; I will get you out the biscuits."
+
+As she knelt down at the side-board he suddenly stooped over her
+shoulder.
+
+"Whatever have you got there? Chocolate creams and English toffee! Why,
+this is l-luxury for a king!"
+
+She looked up, smiling faintly at his enthusiastic tone.
+
+"Are you fond of sweets? I always keep them for Cesare; he is a perfect
+baby over any kind of lollipops."
+
+"R-r-really? Well, you must get him s-some more to-morrow and give me
+these to take with me. No, let me p-p-put the toffee in my pocket; it
+will console me for all the lost joys of life. I d-do hope they'll give
+me a bit of toffee to suck the day I'm hanged."
+
+"Oh, do let me find a cardboard box for it, at least, before you put it
+in your pocket! You will be so sticky! Shall I put the chocolates in,
+too?"
+
+"No, I want to eat them now, with you."
+
+"But I don't like chocolate, and I want you to come and sit down like
+a reasonable human being. We very likely shan't have another chance to
+talk quietly before one or other of us is killed, and------"
+
+"She d-d-doesn't like chocolate!" he murmured under his breath. "Then
+I must be greedy all by myself. This is a case of the hangman's supper,
+isn't it? You are going to humour all my whims to-night. First of all, I
+want you to sit on this easy-chair, and, as you said I might lie down, I
+shall lie here and be comfortable."
+
+He threw himself down on the rug at her feet, leaning his elbow on the
+chair and looking up into her face.
+
+"How pale you are!" he said. "That's because you take life sadly, and
+don't like chocolate----"
+
+"Do be serious for just five minutes! After all, it is a matter of life
+and death."
+
+"Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life nor death is worth it."
+
+He had taken hold of both her hands and was stroking them with the tips
+of his fingers.
+
+"Don't look so grave, Minerva! You'll make me cry in a minute, and
+then you'll be sorry. I do wish you'd smile again; you have such a
+d-delightfully unexpected smile. There now, don't scold me, dear! Let us
+eat our biscuits together, like two good children, without quarrelling
+over them--for to-morrow we die."
+
+He took a sweet biscuit from the plate and carefully halved it, breaking
+the sugar ornament down the middle with scrupulous exactness.
+
+"This is a kind of sacrament, like what the goody-goody people have in
+church. 'Take, eat; this is my body.' And we must d-drink the wine
+out of the s-s-same glass, you know--yes, that is right. 'Do this in
+remembrance----'"
+
+She put down the glass.
+
+"Don't!" she said, with almost a sob. He looked up, and took her hands
+again.
+
+"Hush, then! Let us be quiet for a little bit. When one of us dies, the
+other will remember this. We will forget this loud, insistent world that
+howls about our ears; we will go away together, hand in hand; we will
+go away into the secret halls of death, and lie among the poppy-flowers.
+Hush! We will be quite still."
+
+He laid his head down against her knee and covered his face. In the
+silence she bent over him, her hand on the black head. So the time
+slipped on and on; and they neither moved nor spoke.
+
+"Dear, it is almost twelve," she said at last. He raised his head.
+
+"We have only a few minutes more; Martini will be back presently.
+Perhaps we shall never see each other again. Have you nothing to say to
+me?"
+
+He slowly rose and walked away to the other side of the room. There was
+a moment's silence.
+
+"I have one thing to say," he began in a hardly audible voice; "one
+thing--to tell you----"
+
+He stopped and sat down by the window, hiding his face in both hands.
+
+"You have been a long time deciding to be merciful," she said softly.
+
+"I have not seen much mercy in my life; and I thought--at first--you
+wouldn't care----"
+
+"You don't think that now."
+
+She waited a moment for him to speak and then crossed the room and stood
+beside him.
+
+"Tell me the truth at last," she whispered. "Think, if you are killed
+and I not--I should have to go through all my life and never know--never
+be quite sure----"
+
+He took her hands and clasped them tightly.
+
+"If I am killed---- You see, when I went to South America---- Ah,
+Martini!"
+
+He broke away with a violent start and threw open the door of the room.
+Martini was rubbing his boots on the mat.
+
+"Punctual to the m-m-minute, as usual! You're an an-n-nimated
+chronometer, Martini. Is that the r-r-riding-cloak?"
+
+"Yes; and two or three other things. I have kept them as dry as I could,
+but it's pouring with rain. You will have a most uncomfortable ride, I'm
+afraid."
+
+"Oh, that's no matter. Is the street clear?"
+
+"Yes; all the spies seem to have gone to bed. I don't much wonder
+either, on such a villainous night. Is that coffee, Gemma? He ought to
+have something hot before he goes out into the wet, or he will catch
+cold."
+
+"It is black coffee, and very strong. I will boil some milk."
+
+She went into the kitchen, passionately clenching her teeth and hands to
+keep from breaking down. When she returned with the milk the Gadfly
+had put on the riding-cloak and was fastening the leather gaiters which
+Martini had brought. He drank a cup of coffee, standing, and took up the
+broad-brimmed riding hat.
+
+"I think it's time to start, Martini; we must make a round before we go
+to the barrier, in case of anything. Good-bye, for the present, signora;
+I shall meet you at Forli on Friday, then, unless anything special turns
+up. Wait a minute; th-this is the address."
+
+He tore a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote a few words in pencil.
+
+"I have it already," she said in a dull, quiet voice.
+
+"H-have you? Well, there it is, anyway. Come, Martini. Sh-sh-sh! Don't
+let the door creak!"
+
+They crept softly downstairs. When the street door clicked behind them
+she went back into the room and mechanically unfolded the paper he had
+put into her hand. Underneath the address was written:
+
+"I will tell you everything there."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+IT was market-day in Brisighella, and the country folk had come in from
+the villages and hamlets of the district with their pigs and poultry,
+their dairy produce and droves of half-wild mountain cattle. The
+market-place was thronged with a perpetually shifting crowd, laughing,
+joking, bargaining for dried figs, cheap cakes, and sunflower seeds. The
+brown, bare-footed children sprawled, face downward, on the pavement in
+the hot sun, while their mothers sat under the trees with their baskets
+of butter and eggs.
+
+Monsignor Montanelli, coming out to wish the people "Good-morning," was
+at once surrounded by a clamourous throng of children, holding up for
+his acceptance great bunches of irises and scarlet poppies and sweet
+white narcissus from the mountain slopes. His passion for wild flowers
+was affectionately tolerated by the people, as one of the little follies
+which sit gracefully on very wise men. If anyone less universally
+beloved had filled his house with weeds and grasses they would have
+laughed at him; but the "blessed Cardinal" could afford a few harmless
+eccentricities.
+
+"Well, Mariuccia," he said, stopping to pat one of the children on the
+head; "you have grown since I saw you last. And how is the grandmother's
+rheumatism?"
+
+"She's been better lately, Your Eminence; but mother's bad now."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear that; tell the mother to come down here some day and
+see whether Dr. Giordani can do anything for her. I will find somewhere
+to put her up; perhaps the change will do her good. You are looking
+better, Luigi; how are your eyes?"
+
+He passed on, chatting with the mountaineers. He always remembered
+the names and ages of the children, their troubles and those of their
+parents; and would stop to inquire, with sympathetic interest, for the
+health of the cow that fell sick at Christmas, or of the rag-doll that
+was crushed under a cart-wheel last market-day.
+
+When he returned to the palace the marketing began. A lame man in a blue
+shirt, with a shock of black hair hanging into his eyes and a deep scar
+across the left cheek, lounged up to one of the booths and, in very bad
+Italian, asked for a drink of lemonade.
+
+"You're not from these parts," said the woman who poured it out,
+glancing up at him.
+
+"No. I come from Corsica."
+
+"Looking for work?"
+
+"Yes; it will be hay-cutting time soon, and a gentleman that has a farm
+near Ravenna came across to Bastia the other day and told me there's
+plenty of work to be got there."
+
+"I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are bad hereabouts."
+
+"They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't know what we poor folk are
+coming to."
+
+"Have you come over alone?"
+
+"No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the red shirt. Hola, Paolo!"
+
+Michele hearing himself called, came lounging up with his hands in his
+pockets. He made a fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig which
+he had put on to render himself unrecognizable. As for the Gadfly, he
+looked his part to perfection.
+
+They sauntered through the market-place together, Michele whistling
+between his teeth, and the Gadfly trudging along with a bundle over his
+shoulder, shuffling his feet on the ground to render his lameness
+less observable. They were waiting for an emissary, to whom important
+directions had to be given.
+
+"There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner," Michele whispered
+suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying his bundle, shuffled towards the
+horseman.
+
+"Do you happen to be wanting a hay-maker, sir?" he said, touching his
+ragged cap and running one finger along the bridle. It was the signal
+agreed upon, and the rider, who from his appearance might have been a
+country squire's bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins on the horse's
+neck.
+
+"What sort of work can you do, my man?"
+
+The Gadfly fumbled with his cap.
+
+"I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges"--he began; and without any break
+in his voice, went straight on: "At one in the morning at the mouth of
+the round cave. You must have two good horses and a cart. I shall be
+waiting inside the cave---- And then I can dig, sir, and----"
+
+"That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. Have you ever been out
+before?"
+
+"Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed; we may meet a flying
+squadron. Don't go by the wood-path; you're safer on the other side. If
+you meet a spy, don't stop to argue with him; fire at once---- I should
+be very glad of work, sir."
+
+"Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced grass-cutter. No, I haven't
+got any coppers to-day."
+
+A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them, with a doleful, monotonous
+whine.
+
+"Have pity on a poor blind man, in the name of the Blessed Virgin------
+Get out of this place at once; there's a flying squadron coming
+along----Most Holy Queen of Heaven, Maiden undefiled--It's you they're
+after, Rivarez; they'll be here in two minutes---- And so may the saints
+reward you---- You'll have to make a dash for it; there are spies at all
+the corners. It's no use trying to slip away without being seen."
+
+Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand.
+
+"Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let the horse go; you can hide
+in the ravine. We're all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes."
+
+"No. I won't have you fellows taken. Stand together, all of you, and
+fire after me in order. Move up towards our horses; there they are,
+tethered by the palace steps; and have your knives ready. We retreat
+fighting, and when I throw my cap down, cut the halters and jump every
+man on the nearest horse. We may all reach the wood that way."
+
+They had spoken in so quiet an undertone that even the nearest
+bystanders had not supposed their conversation to refer to anything
+more dangerous than grass-cutting. Marcone, leading his own mare by the
+bridle, walked towards the tethered horses, the Gadfly slouching along
+beside him, and the beggar following them with an outstretched hand and
+a persistent whine. Michele came up whistling; the beggar had warned him
+in passing, and he quietly handed on the news to three countrymen who
+were eating raw onions under a tree. They immediately rose and followed
+him; and before anyone's notice had been attracted to them, the whole
+seven were standing together by the steps of the palace, each man with
+one hand on the hidden pistol, and the tethered horses within easy
+reach.
+
+"Don't betray yourselves till I move," the Gadfly said softly and
+clearly. "They may not recognize us. When I fire, then begin in order.
+Don't fire at the men; lame their horses--then they can't follow us.
+Three of you fire, while the other three reload. If anyone comes between
+you and our horses, kill him. I take the roan. When I throw down my cap,
+each man for himself; don't stop for anything."
+
+"Here they come," said Michele; and the Gadfly turned round, with an air
+of naive and stupid wonder, as the people suddenly broke off in their
+bargaining.
+
+Fifteen armed men rode slowly into the marketplace. They had great
+difficulty to get past the throng of people at all, and, but for the
+spies at the corners of the square, all the seven conspirators could
+have slipped quietly away while the attention of the crowd was fixed
+upon the soldiers. Michele moved a little closer to the Gadfly.
+
+"Couldn't we get away now?"
+
+"No; we're surrounded with spies, and one of them has recognized me. He
+has just sent a man to tell the captain where I am. Our only chance is
+to lame their horses."
+
+"Which is the spy?"
+
+"The first man I fire at. Are you all ready? They have made a lane to
+us; they are going to come with a rush."
+
+"Out of the way there!" shouted the captain. "In the name of His
+Holiness!"
+
+The crowd had drawn back, startled and wondering; and the soldiers made
+a quick dash towards the little group standing by the palace steps. The
+Gadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired, not at the advancing
+troops, but at the spy, who was approaching the horses, and who fell
+back with a broken collar-bone. Immediately after the report, six more
+shots were fired in quick succession, as the conspirators moved steadily
+closer to the tethered horses.
+
+One of the cavalry horses stumbled and plunged; another fell to
+the ground with a fearful cry. Then, through the shrieking of the
+panic-stricken people, came the loud, imperious voice of the officer in
+command, who had risen in the stirrups and was holding a sword above his
+head.
+
+"This way, men!"
+
+He swayed in the saddle and sank back; the Gadfly had fired again
+with his deadly aim. A little stream of blood was trickling down the
+captain's uniform; but he steadied himself with a violent effort, and,
+clutching at his horse's mane, cried out fiercely:
+
+"Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive! It's Rivarez!"
+
+"Another pistol, quick!" the Gadfly called to his men; "and go!"
+
+He flung down his cap. It was only just in time, for the swords of the
+now infuriated soldiers were flashing close in front of him.
+
+"Put down your weapons, all of you!"
+
+Cardinal Montanelli had stepped suddenly between the combatants; and one
+of the soldiers cried out in a voice sharp with terror:
+
+"Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!"
+
+Montanelli only moved a step nearer, and faced the Gadfly's pistol.
+
+Five of the conspirators were already on horseback and dashing up the
+hilly street. Marcone sprang on to the back of his mare. In the moment
+of riding away, he glanced back to see whether his leader was in need of
+help. The roan was close at hand, and in another instant all would have
+been safe; but as the figure in the scarlet cassock stepped forward,
+the Gadfly suddenly wavered and the hand with the pistol sank down.
+The instant decided everything. Immediately he was surrounded and flung
+violently to the ground, and the weapon was dashed out of his hand by a
+blow from the flat of a soldier's sword. Marcone struck his mare's flank
+with the stirrup; the hoofs of the cavalry horses were thundering up the
+hill behind him; and it would have been worse than useless to stay and
+be taken too. Turning in the saddle as he galloped away, to fire a last
+shot in the teeth of the nearest pursuer, he saw the Gadfly, with blood
+on his face, trampled under the feet of horses and soldiers and spies;
+and heard the savage curses of the captors, the yells of triumph and
+rage.
+
+Montanelli did not notice what had happened; he had moved away from the
+steps, and was trying to calm the terrified people. Presently, as he
+stooped over the wounded spy, a startled movement of the crowd made him
+look up. The soldiers were crossing the square, dragging their prisoner
+after them by the rope with which his hands were tied. His face was
+livid with pain and exhaustion, and he panted fearfully for breath; but
+he looked round at the Cardinal, smiling with white lips, and whispered:
+
+"I c-cong-gratulate your Eminence."
+
+   *****
+
+Five days later Martini reached Forli. He had received from Gemma by
+post a bundle of printed circulars, the signal agreed upon in case
+of his being needed in any special emergency; and, remembering the
+conversation on the terrace, he guessed the truth at once. All through
+the journey he kept repeating to himself that there was no reason for
+supposing anything to have happened to the Gadfly, and that it was
+absurd to attach any importance to the childish superstitions of so
+nervous and fanciful a person; but the more he reasoned with himself
+against the idea, the more firmly did it take possession of his mind.
+
+"I have guessed what it is: Rivarez is taken, of course?" he said, as he
+came into Gemma's room.
+
+"He was arrested last Thursday, at Brisighella. He defended himself
+desperately and wounded the captain of the squadron and a spy."
+
+"Armed resistance; that's bad!"
+
+"It makes no difference; he was too deeply compromised already for a
+pistol-shot more or less to affect his position much."
+
+"What do you think they are going to do with him?"
+
+She grew a shade paler even than before.
+
+"I think," she said; "that we must not wait to find out what they mean
+to do."
+
+"You think we shall be able to effect a rescue?"
+
+"We MUST."
+
+He turned away and began to whistle, with his hands behind his back.
+Gemma let him think undisturbed. She was sitting still, leaning her head
+against the back of the chair, and looking out into vague distance with
+a fixed and tragic absorption. When her face wore that expression, it
+had a look of Durer's "Melancolia."
+
+"Have you seen him?" Martini asked, stopping for a moment in his tramp.
+
+"No; he was to have met me here the next morning."
+
+"Yes, I remember. Where is he?"
+
+"In the fortress; very strictly guarded, and, they say, in chains."
+
+He made a gesture of indifference.
+
+"Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid of any number of chains.
+If only he isn't wounded----"
+
+"He seems to have been slightly hurt, but exactly how much we don't
+know. I think you had better hear the account of it from Michele
+himself; he was present at the arrest."
+
+"How does he come not to have been taken too? Did he run away and leave
+Rivarez in the lurch?"
+
+"It's not his fault; he fought as long as anybody did, and followed the
+directions given him to the letter. For that matter, so did they all.
+The only person who seems to have forgotten, or somehow made a mistake
+at the last minute, is Rivarez himself. There's something inexplicable
+about it altogether. Wait a moment; I will call Michele."
+
+She went out of the room, and presently came back with Michele and a
+broad-shouldered mountaineer.
+
+"This is Marco," she said. "You have heard of him; he is one of the
+smugglers. He has just got here, and perhaps will be able to tell us
+more. Michele, this is Cesare Martini, that I spoke to you about. Will
+you tell him what happened, as far as you saw it?"
+
+Michele gave a short account of the skirmish with the squadron.
+
+"I can't understand how it happened," he concluded. "Not one of us would
+have left him if we had thought he would be taken; but his directions
+were quite precise, and it never occurred to us, when he threw down his
+cap, that he would wait to let them surround him. He was close beside
+the roan--I saw him cut the tether--and I handed him a loaded pistol
+myself before I mounted. The only thing I can suppose is that he missed
+his footing,--being lame,--in trying to mount. But even then, he could
+have fired."
+
+"No, it wasn't that," Marcone interposed. "He didn't attempt to mount.
+I was the last one to go, because my mare shied at the firing; and I
+looked round to see whether he was safe. He would have got off clear if
+it hadn't been for the Cardinal."
+
+"Ah!" Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini repeated in amazement: "The
+Cardinal?"
+
+"Yes; he threw himself in front of the pistol--confound him! I suppose
+Rivarez must have been startled, for he dropped his pistol-hand and put
+the other one up like this"--laying the back of his left wrist across
+his eyes--"and of course they all rushed on him."
+
+"I can't make that out," said Michele. "It's not like Rivarez to lose
+his head at a crisis."
+
+"Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing an unarmed man,"
+Martini put in. Michele shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Unarmed men shouldn't poke their noses into the middle of a fight.
+War is war. If Rivarez had put a bullet into His Eminence, instead of
+letting himself be caught like a tame rabbit, there'd be one honest man
+the more and one priest the less."
+
+He turned away, biting his moustache. His anger was very near to
+breaking down in tears.
+
+"Anyway," said Martini, "the thing's done, and there's no use wasting
+time in discussing how it happened. The question now is how we're to
+arrange an escape for him. I suppose you're all willing to risk it?"
+
+Michele did not even condescend to answer the superfluous question,
+and the smuggler only remarked with a little laugh: "I'd shoot my own
+brother, if he weren't willing."
+
+"Very well, then---- First thing; have you got a plan of the fortress?"
+
+Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several sheets of paper.
+
+"I have made out all the plans. Here is the ground floor of the
+fortress; here are the upper and lower stories of the towers, and here
+the plan of the ramparts. These are the roads leading to the valley,
+and here are the paths and hiding-places in the mountains, and the
+underground passages."
+
+"Do you know which of the towers he is in?"
+
+"The east one, in the round room with the grated window. I have marked
+it on the plan."
+
+"How did you get your information?"
+
+"From a man nicknamed 'The Cricket,' a soldier of the guard. He is
+cousin to one of our men--Gino."
+
+"You have been quick about it."
+
+"There's no time to lose. Gino went into Brisighella at once; and some
+of the plans we already had. That list of hiding-places was made by
+Rivarez himself; you can see by the handwriting."
+
+"What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?"
+
+"That we have not been able to find out yet; the Cricket has only just
+come to the place, and knows nothing about the other men."
+
+"We must find out from Gino what the Cricket himself is like. Is
+anything known of the government's intentions? Is Rivarez likely to be
+tried in Brisighella or taken in to Ravenna?"
+
+"That we don't know. Ravenna, of course, is the chief town of the
+Legation and by law cases of importance can be tried only there, in the
+Tribunal of First Instance. But law doesn't count for much in the Four
+Legations; it depends on the personal fancy of anybody who happens to be
+in power."
+
+"They won't take him in to Ravenna," Michele interposed.
+
+"What makes you think so?"
+
+"I am sure of it. Colonel Ferrari, the military Governor at Brisighella,
+is uncle to the officer that Rivarez wounded; he's a vindictive sort of
+brute and won't give up a chance to spite an enemy."
+
+"You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?"
+
+"I think he will try to get him hanged."
+
+Martini glanced quickly at Gemma. She was very pale, but her face had
+not changed at the words. Evidently the idea was no new one to her.
+
+"He can hardly do that without some formality," she said quietly; "but
+he might possibly get up a court-martial on some pretext or other, and
+justify himself afterwards by saying that the peace of the town required
+it."
+
+"But what about the Cardinal? Would he consent to things of that kind?"
+
+"He has no jurisdiction in military affairs."
+
+"No, but he has great influence. Surely the Governor would not venture
+on such a step without his consent?"
+
+"He'll never get that," Marcone interrupted. "Montanelli was always
+against the military commissions, and everything of the kind. So long
+as they keep him in Brisighella nothing serious can happen; the Cardinal
+will always take the part of any prisoner. What I am afraid of is their
+taking him to Ravenna. Once there, he's lost."
+
+"We shouldn't let him get there," said Michele. "We could manage a
+rescue on the road; but to get him out of the fortress here is another
+matter."
+
+"I think," said Gemma; "that it would be quite useless to wait for the
+chance of his being transferred to Ravenna. We must make the attempt at
+Brisighella, and we have no time to lose. Cesare, you and I had better
+go over the plan of the fortress together, and see whether we can
+think out anything. I have an idea in my head, but I can't get over one
+point."
+
+"Come, Marcone," said Michele, rising; "we will leave them to think out
+their scheme. I have to go across to Fognano this afternoon, and I want
+you to come with me. Vincenzo hasn't sent those cartridges, and they
+ought to have been here yesterday."
+
+When the two men had gone, Martini went up to Gemma and silently held
+out his hand. She let her fingers lie in his for a moment.
+
+"You were always a good friend, Cesare," she said at last; "and a very
+present help in trouble. And now let us discuss plans."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+"AND I once more most earnestly assure Your Eminence that your refusal
+is endangering the peace of the town."
+
+The Governor tried to preserve the respectful tone due to a high
+dignitary of the Church; but there was audible irritation in his voice.
+His liver was out of order, his wife was running up heavy bills, and
+his temper had been sorely tried during the last three weeks. A sullen,
+disaffected populace, whose dangerous mood grew daily more apparent; a
+district honeycombed with plots and bristling with hidden weapons; an
+inefficient garrison, of whose loyalty he was more than doubtful, and
+a Cardinal whom he had pathetically described to his adjutant as the
+"incarnation of immaculate pig-headedness," had already reduced him
+to the verge of desperation. Now he was saddled with the Gadfly, an
+animated quintessence of the spirit of mischief.
+
+Having begun by disabling both the Governor's favourite nephew and
+his most valuable spy, the "crooked Spanish devil" had followed up his
+exploits in the market-place by suborning the guards, browbeating the
+interrogating officers, and "turning the prison into a bear-garden."
+He had now been three weeks in the fortress, and the authorities of
+Brisighella were heartily sick of their bargain. They had subjected
+him to interrogation upon interrogation; and after employing, to obtain
+admissions from him, every device of threat, persuasion, and stratagem
+which their ingenuity could suggest, remained just as wise as on the
+day of his capture. They had begun to realize that it would perhaps have
+been better to send him into Ravenna at once. It was, however, too late
+to rectify the mistake. The Governor, when sending in to the Legate his
+report of the arrest, had begged, as a special favour, permission to
+superintend personally the investigation of this case; and, his request
+having been graciously acceded to, he could not now withdraw without a
+humiliating confession that he was overmatched.
+
+The idea of settling the difficulty by a courtmartial had, as Gemma and
+Michele had foreseen, presented itself to him as the only satisfactory
+solution; and Cardinal Montanelli's stubborn refusal to countenance this
+was the last drop which made the cup of his vexations overflow.
+
+"I think," he said, "that if Your Eminence knew what I and my assistants
+have put up with from this man you would feel differently about the
+matter. I fully understand and respect the conscientious objection to
+irregularities in judicial proceedings; but this is an exceptional case
+and calls for exceptional measures."
+
+"There is no case," Montanelli answered, "which calls for injustice; and
+to condemn a civilian by the judgment of a secret military tribunal is
+both unjust and illegal."
+
+"The case amounts to this, Your Eminence: The prisoner is manifestly
+guilty of several capital crimes. He joined the infamous attempt of
+Savigno, and the military commission nominated by Monsignor Spinola
+would certainly have had him shot or sent to the galleys then, had
+he not succeeded in escaping to Tuscany. Since that time he has never
+ceased plotting. He is known to be an influential member of one of the
+most pestilent secret societies in the country. He is gravely suspected
+of having consented to, if not inspired, the assassination of no less
+than three confidential police agents. He has been caught--one might
+almost say--in the act of smuggling firearms into the Legation. He
+has offered armed resistance to authority and seriously wounded two
+officials in the discharge of their duty, and he is now a standing
+menace to the peace and order of the town. Surely, in such a case, a
+court-martial is justifiable."
+
+"Whatever the man has done," Montanelli replied, "he has the right to be
+judged according to law."
+
+"The ordinary course of law involves delay, Your Eminence, and in this
+case every moment is precious. Besides everything else, I am in constant
+terror of his escaping."
+
+"If there is any danger of that, it rests with you to guard him more
+closely."
+
+"I do my best, Your Eminence, but I am dependent upon the prison staff,
+and the man seems to have bewitched them all. I have changed the guard
+four times within three weeks; I have punished the soldiers till I am
+tired of it, and nothing is of any use. I can't prevent their carrying
+letters backwards and forwards. The fools are in love with him as if he
+were a woman."
+
+"That is very curious. There must be something remarkable about him."
+
+"There's a remarkable amount of devilry--I beg pardon, Your Eminence,
+but really this man is enough to try the patience of a saint. It's
+hardly credible, but I have to conduct all the interrogations myself,
+for the regular officer cannot stand it any longer."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"It's difficult to explain. Your Eminence, but you would understand if
+you had once heard the way he goes on. One might think the interrogating
+officer were the criminal and he the judge."
+
+"But what is there so terrible that he can do? He can refuse to answer
+your questions, of course; but he has no weapon except silence."
+
+"And a tongue like a razor. We are all mortal, Your Eminence, and most
+of us have made mistakes in our time that we don't want published on the
+house-tops. That's only human nature, and it's hard on a man to have his
+little slips of twenty years ago raked up and thrown in his teeth----"
+
+"Has Rivarez brought up some personal secret of the interrogating
+officer?"
+
+"Well, really--the poor fellow got into debt when he was a cavalry
+officer, and borrowed a little sum from the regimental funds----"
+
+"Stole public money that had been intrusted to him, in fact?"
+
+"Of course it was very wrong, Your Eminence; but his friends paid
+it back at once, and the affair was hushed up,--he comes of a good
+family,--and ever since then he has been irreproachable. How Rivarez
+found out about it I can't conceive; but the first thing he did at
+interrogation was to bring up this old scandal--before the subaltern,
+too! And with as innocent a face as if he were saying his prayers! Of
+course the story's all over the Legation by now. If Your Eminence
+would only be present at one of the interrogations, I am sure you would
+realize---- He needn't know anything about it. You might overhear him
+from------"
+
+Montanelli turned round and looked at the Governor with an expression
+which his face did not often wear.
+
+"I am a minister of religion," he said; "not a police-spy; and
+eavesdropping forms no part of my professional duties."
+
+"I--I didn't mean to give offence------"
+
+"I think we shall not get any good out of discussing this question
+further. If you will send the prisoner here, I will have a talk with
+him."
+
+"I venture very respectfully to advise Your Eminence not to attempt it.
+The man is perfectly incorrigible. It would be both safer and wiser to
+overstep the letter of the law for this once, and get rid of him before
+he does any more mischief. It is with great diffidence that I venture
+to press the point after what Your Eminence has said; but after all I am
+responsible to Monsignor the Legate for the order of the town------"
+
+"And I," Montanelli interrupted, "am responsible to God and His Holiness
+that there shall be no underhand dealing in my diocese. Since you
+press me in the matter, colonel, I take my stand upon my privilege
+as Cardinal. I will not allow a secret court-martial in this town
+in peace-time. I will receive the prisoner here, and alone, at ten
+to-morrow morning."
+
+"As Your Eminence pleases," the Governor replied with sulky
+respectfulness; and went away, grumbling to himself: "They're about a
+pair, as far as obstinacy goes."
+
+He told no one of the approaching interview till it was actually time to
+knock off the prisoner's chains and start for the palace. It was quite
+enough, as he remarked to his wounded nephew, to have this Most Eminent
+son of Balaam's ass laying down the law, without running any risk of the
+soldiers plotting with Rivarez and his friends to effect an escape on
+the way.
+
+When the Gadfly, strongly guarded, entered the room where Montanelli was
+writing at a table covered with papers, a sudden recollection came
+over him, of a hot midsummer afternoon when he had sat turning over
+manuscript sermons in a study much like this. The shutters had been
+closed, as they were here, to keep out the heat, and a fruitseller's
+voice outside had called: "Fragola! Fragola!"
+
+He shook the hair angrily back from his eyes and set his mouth in a
+smile.
+
+Montanelli looked up from his papers.
+
+"You can wait in the hall," he said to the guards.
+
+"May it please Your Eminence," began the sergeant, in a lowered voice
+and with evident nervousness, "the colonel thinks that this prisoner is
+dangerous and that it would be better------"
+
+A sudden flash came into Montanelli's eyes.
+
+"You can wait in the hall," he repeated quietly; and the sergeant,
+saluting and stammering excuses with a frightened face, left the room
+with his men.
+
+"Sit down, please," said the Cardinal, when the door was shut. The
+Gadfly obeyed in silence.
+
+"Signor Rivarez," Montanelli began after a pause, "I wish to ask you a
+few questions, and shall be very much obliged to you if you will answer
+them."
+
+The Gadfly smiled. "My ch-ch-chief occupation at p-p-present is to be
+asked questions."
+
+"And--not to answer them? So I have heard; but these questions are put
+by officials who are investigating your case and whose duty is to use
+your answers as evidence."
+
+"And th-those of Your Eminence?" There was a covert insult in the tone
+more than in the words, and the Cardinal understood it at once; but his
+face did not lose its grave sweetness of expression.
+
+"Mine," he said, "whether you answer them or not, will remain between
+you and me. If they should trench upon your political secrets, of course
+you will not answer. Otherwise, though we are complete strangers to each
+other, I hope that you will do so, as a personal favour to me."
+
+"I am ent-t-tirely at the service of Your Eminence." He said it with a
+little bow, and a face that would have taken the heart to ask favours
+out of the daughters of the horse-leech.
+
+"First, then, you are said to have been smuggling firearms into this
+district. What are they wanted for?"
+
+"T-t-to k-k-kill rats with."
+
+"That is a terrible answer. Are all your fellow-men rats in your eyes if
+they cannot think as you do?"
+
+"S-s-some of them."
+
+Montanelli leaned back in his chair and looked at him in silence for a
+little while.
+
+"What is that on your hand?" he asked suddenly.
+
+The Gadfly glanced at his left hand. "Old m-m-marks from the teeth of
+some of the rats."
+
+"Excuse me; I was speaking of the other hand. That is a fresh hurt."
+
+The slender, flexible right hand was badly cut and grazed. The Gadfly
+held it up. The wrist was swollen, and across it ran a deep and long
+black bruise.
+
+"It is a m-m-mere trifle, as you see," he said. "When I was arrested the
+other day,--thanks to Your Eminence,"--he made another little bow,--"one
+of the soldiers stamped on it."
+
+Montanelli took the wrist and examined it closely. "How does it come
+to be in such a state now, after three weeks?" he asked. "It is all
+inflamed."
+
+"Possibly the p-p-pressure of the iron has not done it much good."
+
+The Cardinal looked up with a frown.
+
+"Have they been putting irons on a fresh wound?"
+
+"N-n-naturally, Your Eminence; that is what fresh wounds are for. Old
+wounds are not much use. They will only ache; you c-c-can't make them
+burn properly."
+
+Montanelli looked at him again in the same close, scrutinizing way; then
+rose and opened a drawer full of surgical appliances.
+
+"Give me the hand," he said.
+
+The Gadfly, with a face as hard as beaten iron, held out the hand,
+and Montanelli, after bathing the injured place, gently bandaged it.
+Evidently he was accustomed to such work.
+
+"I will speak about the irons," he said. "And now I want to ask you
+another question: What do you propose to do?"
+
+"Th-th-that is very simply answered, Your Eminence. To escape if I can,
+and if I can't, to die."
+
+"Why 'to die'?"
+
+"Because if the Governor doesn't succeed in getting me shot, I shall be
+sent to the galleys, and for me that c-c-comes to the same thing. I have
+not got the health to live through it."
+
+Montanelli rested his arm on the table and pondered silently. The Gadfly
+did not disturb him. He was leaning back with half-shut eyes, lazily
+enjoying the delicious physical sensation of relief from the chains.
+
+"Supposing," Montanelli began again, "that you were to succeed in
+escaping; what should you do with your life?"
+
+"I have already told Your Eminence; I should k-k-kill rats."
+
+"You would kill rats. That is to say, that if I were to let you escape
+from here now,--supposing I had the power to do so,--you would use your
+freedom to foster violence and bloodshed instead of preventing them?"
+
+The Gadfly raised his eyes to the crucifix on the wall. "'Not peace,
+but a sword';--at l-least I should be in good company. For my own part,
+though, I prefer pistols."
+
+"Signor Rivarez," said the Cardinal with unruffled composure, "I have
+not insulted you as yet, or spoken slightingly of your beliefs or
+friends. May I not expect the same courtesy from you, or do you wish me
+to suppose that an atheist cannot be a gentleman?"
+
+"Ah, I q-quite forgot. Your Eminence places courtesy high among the
+Christian virtues. I remember your sermon in Florence, on the occasion
+of my c-controversy with your anonymous defender."
+
+"That is one of the subjects about which I wished to speak to you. Would
+you mind explaining to me the reason of the peculiar bitterness you seem
+to feel against me? If you have simply picked me out as a convenient
+target, that is another matter. Your methods of political controversy
+are your own affair, and we are not discussing politics now. But I
+fancied at the time that there was some personal animosity towards me;
+and if so, I should be glad to know whether I have ever done you wrong
+or in any way given you cause for such a feeling."
+
+Ever done him wrong! The Gadfly put up the bandaged hand to his throat.
+"I must refer Your Eminence to Shakspere," he said with a little laugh.
+"It's as with the man who can't endure a harmless, necessary cat. My
+antipathy is a priest. The sight of the cassock makes my t-t-teeth
+ache."
+
+"Oh, if it is only that----" Montanelli dismissed the subject with an
+indifferent gesture.
+
+"Still," he added, "abuse is one thing and perversion of fact is
+another. When you stated, in answer to my sermon, that I knew the
+identity of the anonymous writer, you made a mistake,--I do not accuse
+you of wilful falsehood,--and stated what was untrue. I am to this day
+quite ignorant of his name."
+
+The Gadfly put his head on one side, like an intelligent robin, looked
+at him for a moment gravely, then suddenly threw himself back and burst
+into a peal of laughter.
+
+"S-s-sancta simplicitas! Oh, you, sweet, innocent, Arcadian people--and
+you never guessed! You n-never saw the cloven hoof?"
+
+Montanelli stood up. "Am I to understand, Signor Rivarez, that you wrote
+both sides of the controversy yourself?"
+
+"It was a shame, I know," the Gadfly answered, looking up with wide,
+innocent blue eyes. "And you s-s-swallowed everything whole; just as if
+it had been an oyster. It was very wrong; but oh, it w-w-was so funny!"
+
+Montanelli bit his lip and sat down again. He had realized from the
+first that the Gadfly was trying to make him lose his temper, and had
+resolved to keep it whatever happened; but he was beginning to find
+excuses for the Governor's exasperation. A man who had been spending two
+hours a day for the last three weeks in interrogating the Gadfly might
+be pardoned an occasional swear-word.
+
+"We will drop that subject," he said quietly. "What I wanted to see you
+for particularly is this: My position here as Cardinal gives me some
+voice, if I choose to claim my privilege, in the question of what is
+to be done with you. The only use to which I should ever put such a
+privilege would be to interfere in case of any violence to you which was
+not necessary to prevent you from doing violence to others. I sent for
+you, therefore, partly in order to ask whether you have anything to
+complain of,--I will see about the irons; but perhaps there is something
+else,--and partly because I felt it right, before giving my opinion, to
+see for myself what sort of man you are."
+
+"I have nothing to complain of, Your Eminence. 'A la guerre comme a la
+guerre.' I am not a schoolboy, to expect any government to pat me on the
+head for s-s-smuggling firearms onto its territory. It's only natural
+that they should hit as hard as they can. As for what sort of man I am,
+you have had a romantic confession of my sins once. Is not that enough;
+or w-w-would you like me to begin again?"
+
+"I don't understand you," Montanelli said coldly, taking up a pencil and
+twisting it between his fingers.
+
+"Surely Your Eminence has not forgotten old Diego, the pilgrim?"
+He suddenly changed his voice and began to speak as Diego: "I am a
+miserable sinner------"
+
+The pencil snapped in Montanelli's hand. "That is too much!" he said.
+
+The Gadfly leaned his head back with a soft little laugh, and sat
+watching while the Cardinal paced silently up and down the room.
+
+"Signor Rivarez," said Montanelli, stopping at last in front of him,
+"you have done a thing to me that a man who was born of a woman should
+hesitate to do to his worst enemy. You have stolen in upon my private
+grief and have made for yourself a mock and a jest out of the sorrow
+of a fellow-man. I once more beg you to tell me: Have I ever done you
+wrong? And if not, why have you played this heartless trick on me?"
+
+The Gadfly, leaning back against the chair-cushions, looked up with his
+subtle, chilling, inscrutable smile.
+
+"It am-m-mused me, Your Eminence; you took it all so much to heart, and
+it rem-m-minded me--a little bit--of a variety show----"
+
+Montanelli, white to the very lips, turned away and rang the bell.
+
+"You can take back the prisoner," he said when the guards came in.
+
+After they had gone he sat down at the table, still trembling with
+unaccustomed indignation, and took up a pile of reports which had been
+sent in to him by the parish priests of his diocese.
+
+Presently he pushed them away, and, leaning on the table, hid his face
+in both hands. The Gadfly seemed to have left some terrible shadow of
+himself, some ghostly trail of his personality, to haunt the room; and
+Montanelli sat trembling and cowering, not daring to look up lest he
+should see the phantom presence that he knew was not there. The spectre
+hardly amounted to a hallucination. It was a mere fancy of overwrought
+nerves; but he was seized with an unutterable dread of its shadowy
+presence--of the wounded hand, the smiling, cruel mouth, the mysterious
+eyes, like deep sea water----
+
+He shook off the fancy and settled to his work. All day long he had
+scarcely a free moment, and the thing did not trouble him; but going
+into his bedroom late at night, he stopped on the threshold with a
+sudden shock of fear. What if he should see it in a dream? He recovered
+himself immediately and knelt down before the crucifix to pray.
+
+But he lay awake the whole night through.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONTANELLI'S anger did not make him neglectful of his promise. He
+protested so emphatically against the manner in which the Gadfly had
+been chained that the unfortunate Governor, who by now was at his wit's
+end, knocked off all the fetters in the recklessness of despair. "How am
+I to know," he grumbled to the adjutant, "what His Eminence will object
+to next? If he calls a simple pair of handcuffs 'cruelty,' he'll be
+exclaiming against the window-bars presently, or wanting me to feed
+Rivarez on oysters and truffles. In my young days malefactors were
+malefactors and were treated accordingly, and nobody thought a traitor
+any better than a thief. But it's the fashion to be seditious nowadays;
+and His Eminence seems inclined to encourage all the scoundrels in the
+country."
+
+"I don't see what business he has got to interfere at all," the adjutant
+remarked. "He is not a Legate and has no authority in civil and military
+affairs. By law------"
+
+"What is the use of talking about law? You can't expect anyone to
+respect laws after the Holy Father has opened the prisons and turned the
+whole crew of Liberal scamps loose on us! It's a positive infatuation!
+Of course Monsignor Montanelli will give himself airs; he was quiet
+enough under His Holiness the late Pope, but he's cock of the walk now.
+He has jumped into favour all at once and can do as he pleases. How am
+I to oppose him? He may have secret authorization from the Vatican, for
+all I know. Everything's topsy-turvy now; you can't tell from day to day
+what may happen next. In the good old times one knew what to be at, but
+nowadays------"
+
+The Governor shook his head ruefully. A world in which Cardinals
+troubled themselves over trifles of prison discipline and talked about
+the "rights" of political offenders was a world that was growing too
+complex for him.
+
+The Gadfly, for his part, had returned to the fortress in a state of
+nervous excitement bordering on hysteria. The meeting with Montanelli
+had strained his endurance almost to breaking-point; and his final
+brutality about the variety show had been uttered in sheer desperation,
+merely to cut short an interview which, in another five minutes, would
+have ended in tears.
+
+Called up for interrogation in the afternoon of the same day, he did
+nothing but go into convulsions of laughter at every question put to
+him; and when the Governor, worried out of all patience, lost his temper
+and began to swear, he only laughed more immoderately than ever.
+The unlucky Governor fumed and stormed and threatened his refractory
+prisoner with impossible punishments; but finally came, as James Burton
+had come long ago, to the conclusion that it was mere waste of breath
+and temper to argue with a person in so unreasonable a state of mind.
+
+The Gadfly was once more taken back to his cell; and there lay down upon
+the pallet, in the mood of black and hopeless depression which always
+succeeded to his boisterous fits. He lay till evening without moving,
+without even thinking; he had passed, after the vehement emotion of the
+morning, into a strange, half-apathetic state, in which his own misery
+was hardly more to him than a dull and mechanical weight, pressing on
+some wooden thing that had forgotten to be a soul. In truth, it was of
+little consequence how all ended; the one thing that mattered to any
+sentient being was to be spared unbearable pain, and whether the relief
+came from altered conditions or from the deadening of the power to
+feel, was a question of no moment. Perhaps he would succeed in escaping;
+perhaps they would kill him; in any case he should never see the Padre
+again, and it was all vanity and vexation of spirit.
+
+One of the warders brought in supper, and the Gadfly looked up with
+heavy-eyed indifference.
+
+"What time is it?"
+
+"Six o'clock. Your supper, sir."
+
+He looked with disgust at the stale, foul-smelling, half-cold mess, and
+turned his head away. He was feeling bodily ill as well as depressed;
+and the sight of the food sickened him.
+
+"You will be ill if you don't eat," said the soldier hurriedly. "Take a
+bit of bread, anyway; it'll do you good."
+
+The man spoke with a curious earnestness of tone, lifting a piece
+of sodden bread from the plate and putting it down again. All the
+conspirator awoke in the Gadfly; he had guessed at once that there was
+something hidden in the bread.
+
+"You can leave it; I'll eat a bit by and by," he said carelessly. The
+door was open, and he knew that the sergeant on the stairs could hear
+every word spoken between them.
+
+When the door was locked on him again, and he had satisfied himself that
+no one was watching at the spy-hole, he took up the piece of bread and
+carefully crumbled it away. In the middle was the thing he had expected,
+a bundle of small files. It was wrapped in a bit of paper, on which a
+few words were written. He smoothed the paper out carefully and carried
+it to what little light there was. The writing was crowded into so
+narrow a space, and on such thin paper, that it was very difficult to
+read.
+
+
+"The door is unlocked, and there is no moon. Get the filing done as fast
+as possible, and come by the passage between two and three. We are quite
+ready and may not have another chance."
+
+
+He crushed the paper feverishly in his hand. All the preparations were
+ready, then, and he had only to file the window bars; how lucky it was
+that the chains were off! He need not stop about filing them. How many
+bars were there? Two, four; and each must be filed in two places: eight.
+Oh, he could manage that in the course of the night if he made
+haste---- How had Gemma and Martini contrived to get everything ready so
+quickly--disguises, passports, hiding-places? They must have worked like
+cart-horses to do it---- And it was her plan that had been adopted after
+all. He laughed a little to himself at his own foolishness; as if it
+mattered whether the plan was hers or not, once it was a good one! And
+yet he could not help being glad that it was she who had struck on
+the idea of his utilizing the subterranean passage, instead of letting
+himself down by a rope-ladder, as the smugglers had at first suggested.
+Hers was the more complex and difficult plan, but did not involve, as
+the other did, a risk to the life of the sentinel on duty outside the
+east wall. Therefore, when the two schemes had been laid before him, he
+had unhesitatingly chosen Gemma's.
+
+The arrangement was that the friendly guard who went by the nickname of
+"The Cricket" should seize the first opportunity of unlocking, without
+the knowledge of his fellows, the iron gate leading from the courtyard
+into the subterranean passage underneath the ramparts, and should then
+replace the key on its nail in the guard-room. The Gadfly, on receiving
+information of this, was to file through the bars of his window, tear
+his shirt into strips and plait them into a rope, by means of which he
+could let himself down on to the broad east wall of the courtyard. Along
+this wall he was to creep on hands and knees while the sentinel was
+looking in the opposite direction, lying flat upon the masonry whenever
+the man turned towards him. At the southeast corner was a half-ruined
+turret. It was upheld, to some extent, by a thick growth of ivy;
+but great masses of crumbling stone had fallen inward and lay in the
+courtyard, heaped against the wall. From this turret he was to climb
+down by the ivy and the heaps of stone into the courtyard; and, softly
+opening the unlocked gate, to make his way along the passage to a
+subterranean tunnel communicating with it. Centuries ago this tunnel
+had formed a secret corridor between the fortress and a tower on the
+neighbouring hill; now it was quite disused and blocked in many places
+by the falling in of the rocks. No one but the smugglers knew of a
+certain carefully-hidden hole in the mountain-side which they had
+bored through to the tunnel; no one suspected that stores of forbidden
+merchandise were often kept, for weeks together, under the very ramparts
+of the fortress itself, while the customs-officers were vainly searching
+the houses of the sullen, wrathful-eyed mountaineers. At this hole the
+Gadfly was to creep out on to the hillside, and make his way in the dark
+to a lonely spot where Martini and a smuggler would be waiting for him.
+The one great difficulty was that opportunities to unlock the gate after
+the evening patrol did not occur every night, and the descent from the
+window could not be made in very clear weather without too great a risk
+of being observed by the sentinel. Now that there was really a fair
+chance of success, it must not be missed.
+
+He sat down and began to eat some of the bread. It at least did not
+disgust him like the rest of the prison food, and he must eat something
+to keep up his strength.
+
+He had better lie down a bit, too, and try to get a little sleep; it
+would not be safe to begin filing before ten o'clock, and he would have
+a hard night's work.
+
+And so, after all, the Padre had been thinking of letting him escape!
+That was like the Padre. But he, for his part, would never consent to
+it. Anything rather than that! If he escaped, it should be his own doing
+and that of his comrades; he would have no favours from priests.
+
+How hot it was! Surely it must be going to thunder; the air was so close
+and oppressive. He moved restlessly on the pallet and put the bandaged
+right hand behind his head for a pillow; then drew it away again. How it
+burned and throbbed! And all the old wounds were beginning to ache, with
+a dull, faint persistence. What was the matter with them? Oh, absurd!
+It was only the thundery weather. He would go to sleep and get a little
+rest before beginning his filing.
+
+Eight bars, and all so thick and strong! How many more were there
+left to file? Surely not many. He must have been filing for
+hours,--interminable hours--yes, of course, that was what made his arm
+ache---- And how it ached; right through to the very bone! But it could
+hardly be the filing that made his side ache so; and the throbbing,
+burning pain in the lame leg--was that from filing?
+
+He started up. No, he had not been asleep; he had been dreaming with
+open eyes--dreaming of filing, and it was all still to do. There stood
+the window-bars, untouched, strong and firm as ever. And there was ten
+striking from the clock-tower in the distance. He must get to work.
+
+He looked through the spy-hole, and, seeing that no one was watching,
+took one of the files from his breast.
+
+    *****
+
+No, there was nothing the matter with him--nothing! It was all
+imagination. The pain in his side was indigestion, or a chill, or some
+such thing; not much wonder, after three weeks of this insufferable
+prison food and air. As for the aching and throbbing all over, it was
+partly nervous trouble and partly want of exercise. Yes, that was it, no
+doubt; want of exercise. How absurd not to have thought of that before!
+
+He would sit down a little bit, though, and let it pass before he got to
+work. It would be sure to go over in a minute or two.
+
+To sit still was worse than all. When he sat still he was at its mercy,
+and his face grew gray with fear. No, he must get up and set to work,
+and shake it off. It should depend upon his will to feel or not to feel;
+and he would not feel, he would force it back.
+
+He stood up again and spoke to himself, aloud and distinctly:
+
+"I am not ill; I have no time to be ill. I have those bars to file, and
+I am not going to be ill."
+
+Then he began to file.
+
+A quarter-past ten--half-past ten--a quarter to eleven---- He filed and
+filed, and every grating scrape of the iron was as though someone were
+filing on his body and brain. "I wonder which will be filed through
+first," he said to himself with a little laugh; "I or the bars?" And he
+set his teeth and went on filing.
+
+Half-past eleven. He was still filing, though the hand was stiff and
+swollen and would hardly grasp the tool. No, he dared not stop to rest;
+if he once put the horrible thing down he should never have the courage
+to begin again.
+
+The sentinel moved outside the door, and the butt end of his carbine
+scratched against the lintel. The Gadfly stopped and looked round, the
+file still in his lifted hand. Was he discovered?
+
+A little round pellet had been shot through the spy-hole and was lying
+on the floor. He laid down the file and stooped to pick up the round
+thing. It was a bit of rolled paper.
+
+    *****
+
+It was a long way to go down and down, with the black waves rushing
+about him--how they roared----!
+
+Ah, yes! He was only stooping down to pick up the paper. He was a bit
+giddy; many people are when they stoop. There was nothing the matter
+with him--nothing.
+
+He picked it up, carried it to the light, and unfolded it steadily.
+
+
+"Come to-night, whatever happens; the Cricket will be transferred
+to-morrow to another service. This is our only chance."
+
+
+He destroyed the paper as he had done the former one, picked up his file
+again, and went back to work, dogged and mute and desperate.
+
+One o'clock. He had been working for three hours now, and six of the
+eight bars were filed. Two more, and then, to climb------
+
+He began to recall the former occasions when these terrible attacks had
+come on. The last had been the one at New Year; and he shuddered as
+he remembered those five nights. But that time it had not come on so
+suddenly; he had never known it so sudden.
+
+He dropped the file and flung out both hands blindly, praying, in his
+utter desperation, for the first time since he had been an atheist;
+praying to anything--to nothing--to everything.
+
+"Not to-night! Oh, let me be ill to-morrow! I will bear anything
+to-morrow--only not to-night!"
+
+He stood still for a moment, with both hands up to his temples; then he
+took up the file once more, and once more went back to his work.
+
+Half-past one. He had begun on the last bar. His shirt-sleeve was bitten
+to rags; there was blood on his lips and a red mist before his eyes, and
+the sweat poured from his forehead as he filed, and filed, and filed----
+
+    *****
+
+After sunrise Montanelli fell asleep. He was utterly worn out with the
+restless misery of the night and slept for a little while quietly; then
+he began to dream.
+
+At first he dreamed vaguely, confusedly; broken fragments of images and
+fancies followed each other, fleeting and incoherent, but all filled
+with the same dim sense of struggle and pain, the same shadow of
+indefinable dread. Presently he began to dream of sleeplessness; the
+old, frightful, familiar dream that had been a terror to him for years.
+And even as he dreamed he recognized that he had been through it all
+before.
+
+He was wandering about in a great empty place, trying to find some quiet
+spot where he could lie down and sleep. Everywhere there were people,
+walking up and down; talking, laughing, shouting; praying, ringing
+bells, and clashing metal instruments together. Sometimes he would get
+away to a little distance from the noise, and would lie down, now on the
+grass, now on a wooden bench, now on some slab of stone. He would shut
+his eyes and cover them with both hands to keep out the light; and would
+say to himself: "Now I will get to sleep." Then the crowds would come
+sweeping up to him, shouting, yelling, calling him by name, begging him:
+"Wake up! Wake up, quick; we want you!"
+
+Again: he was in a great palace, full of gorgeous rooms, with beds and
+couches and low soft lounges. It was night, and he said to himself:
+"Here, at last, I shall find a quiet place to sleep." But when he chose
+a dark room and lay down, someone came in with a lamp, flashing the
+merciless light into his eyes, and said: "Get up; you are wanted."
+
+He rose and wandered on, staggering and stumbling like a creature
+wounded to death; and heard the clocks strike one, and knew that half
+the night was gone already--the precious night that was so short. Two,
+three, four, five--by six o'clock the whole town would wake up and there
+would be no more silence.
+
+He went into another room and would have lain down on a bed, but someone
+started up from the pillows, crying out: "This bed is mine!" and he
+shrank away with despair in his heart.
+
+Hour after hour struck, and still he wandered on and on, from room to
+room, from house to house, from corridor to corridor. The horrible gray
+dawn was creeping near and nearer; the clocks were striking five;
+the night was gone and he had found no rest. Oh, misery! Another
+day--another day!
+
+He was in a long, subterranean corridor, a low, vaulted passage
+that seemed to have no end. It was lighted with glaring lamps and
+chandeliers; and through its grated roof came the sounds of dancing
+and laughter and merry music. Up there, in the world of the live people
+overhead, there was some festival, no doubt. Oh, for a place to hide
+and sleep; some little place, were it even a grave! And as he spoke
+he stumbled over an open grave. An open grave, smelling of death and
+rottenness---- Ah, what matter, so he could but sleep!
+
+"This grave is mine!" It was Gladys; and she raised her head and stared
+at him over the rotting shroud. Then he knelt down and stretched out his
+arms to her.
+
+"Gladys! Gladys! Have a little pity on me; let me creep into this narrow
+space and sleep. I do not ask you for your love; I will not touch you,
+will not speak to you; only let me lie down beside you and sleep! Oh,
+love, it is so long since I have slept! I cannot bear another day. The
+light glares in upon my soul; the noise is beating my brain to dust.
+Gladys, let me come in here and sleep!"
+
+And he would have drawn her shroud across his eyes. But she shrank away,
+screaming:
+
+"It is sacrilege; you are a priest!"
+
+On and on he wandered, and came out upon the sea-shore, on the barren
+rocks where the fierce light struck down, and the water moaned its low,
+perpetual wail of unrest. "Ah!" he said; "the sea will be more merciful;
+it, too, is wearied unto death and cannot sleep."
+
+Then Arthur rose up from the deep, and cried aloud:
+
+"This sea is mine!"
+
+    *****
+
+"Your Eminence! Your Eminence!"
+
+Montanelli awoke with a start. His servant was knocking at the door. He
+rose mechanically and opened it, and the man saw how wild and scared he
+looked.
+
+"Your Eminence--are you ill?"
+
+He drew both hands across his forehead.
+
+"No; I was asleep, and you startled me."
+
+"I am very sorry; I thought I had heard you moving early this morning,
+and I supposed------"
+
+"Is it late now?"
+
+"It is nine o'clock, and the Governor has called. He says he has
+very important business, and knowing Your Eminence to be an early
+riser------"
+
+"Is he downstairs? I will come presently."
+
+He dressed and went downstairs.
+
+"I am afraid this is an unceremonious way to call upon Your Eminence,"
+the Governor began.
+
+"I hope there is nothing the matter?"
+
+"There is very much the matter. Rivarez has all but succeeded in
+escaping."
+
+"Well, so long as he has not quite succeeded there is no harm done. How
+was it?"
+
+"He was found in the courtyard, right against the little iron gate.
+When the patrol came in to inspect the courtyard at three o'clock this
+morning one of the men stumbled over something on the ground; and when
+they brought the light up they found Rivarez lying across the path
+unconscious. They raised an alarm at once and called me up; and when I
+went to examine his cell I found all the window-bars filed through and
+a rope made of torn body-linen hanging from one of them. He had let
+himself down and climbed along the wall. The iron gate, which leads into
+the subterranean tunnels, was found to be unlocked. That looks as if the
+guards had been suborned."
+
+"But how did he come to be lying across the path? Did he fall from the
+rampart and hurt himself?"
+
+"That is what I thought at first. Your Eminence; but the prison surgeon
+can't find any trace of a fall. The soldier who was on duty yesterday
+says that Rivarez looked very ill last night when he brought in the
+supper, and did not eat anything. But that must be nonsense; a sick man
+couldn't file those bars through and climb along that roof. It's not in
+reason."
+
+"Does he give any account of himself?"
+
+"He is unconscious, Your Eminence."
+
+"Still?"
+
+"He just half comes to himself from time to time and moans, and then
+goes off again."
+
+"That is very strange. What does the doctor think?"
+
+"He doesn't know what to think. There is no trace of heart-disease that
+he can find to account for the thing; but whatever is the matter with
+him, it is something that must have come on suddenly, just when he had
+nearly managed to escape. For my part, I believe he was struck down by
+the direct intervention of a merciful Providence."
+
+Montanelli frowned slightly.
+
+"What are you going to do with him?" he asked.
+
+"That is a question I shall settle in a very few days. In the meantime I
+have had a good lesson. That is what comes of taking off the irons--with
+all due respect to Your Eminence."
+
+"I hope," Montanelli interrupted, "that you will at least not replace
+the fetters while he is ill. A man in the condition you describe can
+hardly make any more attempts to escape."
+
+"I shall take good care he doesn't," the Governor muttered to himself as
+he went out. "His Eminence can go hang with his sentimental scruples for
+all I care. Rivarez is chained pretty tight now, and is going to stop
+so, ill or not."
+
+    *****
+
+"But how can it have happened? To faint away at the last moment, when
+everything was ready; when he was at the very gate! It's like some
+hideous joke."
+
+"I tell you," Martini answered, "the only thing I can think of is that
+one of these attacks must have come on, and that he must have struggled
+against it as long as his strength lasted and have fainted from sheer
+exhaustion when he got down into the courtyard."
+
+Marcone knocked the ashes savagely from his pipe.
+
+"Well, anyhow, that's the end of it; we can't do anything for him now,
+poor fellow."
+
+"Poor fellow!" Martini echoed, under his breath. He was beginning to
+realise that to him, too, the world would look empty and dismal without
+the Gadfly.
+
+"What does she think?" the smuggler asked, glancing towards the other
+end of the room, where Gemma sat alone, her hands lying idly in her lap,
+her eyes looking straight before her into blank nothingness.
+
+"I have not asked her; she has not spoken since I brought her the news.
+We had best not disturb her just yet."
+
+She did not appear to be conscious of their presence, but they both
+spoke with lowered voices, as though they were looking at a corpse.
+After a dreary little pause, Marcone rose and put away his pipe.
+
+"I will come back this evening," he said; but Martini stopped him with a
+gesture.
+
+"Don't go yet; I want to speak to you." He dropped his voice still lower
+and continued in almost a whisper:
+
+"Do you believe there is really no hope?"
+
+"I don't see what hope there can be now. We can't attempt it again. Even
+if he were well enough to manage his part of the thing, we couldn't
+do our share. The sentinels are all being changed, on suspicion. The
+Cricket won't get another chance, you may be sure."
+
+"Don't you think," Martini asked suddenly; "that, when he recovers,
+something might be done by calling off the sentinels?"
+
+"Calling off the sentinels? What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, it has occurred to me that if I were to get in the Governor's way
+when the procession passes close by the fortress on Corpus Domini day
+and fire in his face, all the sentinels would come rushing to get hold
+of me, and some of you fellows could perhaps help Rivarez out in the
+confusion. It really hardly amounts to a plan; it only came into my
+head."
+
+"I doubt whether it could be managed," Marcone answered with a very
+grave face. "Certainly it would want a lot of thinking out for anything
+to come of it. But"--he stopped and looked at Martini--"if it should be
+possible--would you do it?"
+
+Martini was a reserved man at ordinary times; but this was not an
+ordinary time. He looked straight into the smuggler's face.
+
+"Would I do it?" he repeated. "Look at her!"
+
+There was no need for further explanations; in saying that he had said
+all. Marcone turned and looked across the room.
+
+She had not moved since their conversation began. There was no doubt, no
+fear, even no grief in her face; there was nothing in it but the shadow
+of death. The smuggler's eyes filled with tears as he looked at her.
+
+"Make haste, Michele!" he said, throwing open the verandah door and
+looking out. "Aren't you nearly done, you two? There are a hundred and
+fifty things to do!"
+
+Michele, followed by Gino, came in from the verandah.
+
+"I am ready now," he said. "I only want to ask the signora----"
+
+He was moving towards her when Martini caught him by the arm.
+
+"Don't disturb her; she's better alone."
+
+"Let her be!" Marcone added. "We shan't do any good by meddling. God
+knows, it's hard enough on all of us; but it's worse for her, poor
+soul!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+FOR a week the Gadfly lay in a fearful state. The attack was a violent
+one, and the Governor, rendered brutal by fear and perplexity, had not
+only chained him hand and foot, but had insisted on his being bound to
+his pallet with leather straps, drawn so tight that he could not move
+without their cutting into the flesh. He endured everything with his
+dogged, bitter stoicism till the end of the sixth day. Then his pride
+broke down, and he piteously entreated the prison doctor for a dose
+of opium. The doctor was quite willing to give it; but the Governor,
+hearing of the request, sharply forbade "any such foolery."
+
+"How do you know what he wants it for?" he said. "It's just as likely as
+not that he's shamming all the time and wants to drug the sentinel, or
+some such devilry. Rivarez is cunning enough for anything."
+
+"My giving him a dose would hardly help him to drug the sentinel,"
+replied the doctor, unable to suppress a smile. "And as for
+shamming--there's not much fear of that. He is as likely as not to die."
+
+"Anyway, I won't have it given. If a man wants to be tenderly treated,
+he should behave accordingly. He has thoroughly deserved a little sharp
+discipline. Perhaps it will be a lesson to him not to play tricks with
+the window-bars again."
+
+"The law does not admit of torture, though," the doctor ventured to say;
+"and this is coming perilously near it."
+
+"The law says nothing about opium, I think," said the Governor
+snappishly.
+
+"It is for you to decide, of course, colonel; but I hope you will let
+the straps be taken off at any rate. They are a needless aggravation of
+his misery. There's no fear of his escaping now. He couldn't stand if
+you let him go free."
+
+"My good sir, a doctor may make a mistake like other people, I suppose.
+I have got him safe strapped now, and he's going to stop so."
+
+"At least, then, have the straps a little loosened. It is downright
+barbarity to keep them drawn so tight."
+
+"They will stop exactly as they are; and I will thank you, sir, not to
+talk about barbarity to me. If I do a thing, I have a reason for it."
+
+So the seventh night passed without any relief, and the soldier
+stationed on guard at the cell door crossed himself, shuddering, over
+and over again, as he listened all night long to heart-rending moans.
+The Gadfly's endurance was failing him at last.
+
+At six in the morning the sentinel, just before going off duty, unlocked
+the door softly and entered the cell. He knew that he was committing
+a serious breach of discipline, but could not bear to go away without
+offering the consolation of a friendly word.
+
+He found the Gadfly lying still, with closed eyes and parted lips. He
+stood silent for a moment; then stooped down and asked:
+
+"Can I do anything for you, sir? I have only a minute."
+
+The Gadfly opened his eyes. "Let me alone!" he moaned. "Let me
+alone----"
+
+He was asleep almost before the soldier had slipped back to his post.
+
+Ten days afterwards the Governor called again at the palace, but found
+that the Cardinal had gone to visit a sick man at Pieve d'Ottavo, and
+was not expected home till the afternoon. That evening, just as he was
+sitting down to dinner, his servant came in to announce:
+
+"His Eminence would like to speak to you."
+
+The Governor, with a hasty glance into the looking glass, to make sure
+that his uniform was in order, put on his most dignified air, and went
+into the reception room, where Montanelli was sitting, beating his hand
+gently on the arm of the chair and looking out of the window with an
+anxious line between his brows.
+
+"I heard that you called to-day," he said, cutting short the Governor's
+polite speeches with a slightly imperious manner which he never adopted
+in speaking to the country folk. "It was probably on the business about
+which I have been wishing to speak to you."
+
+"It was about Rivarez, Your Eminence."
+
+"So I supposed. I have been thinking the matter over these last few
+days. But before we go into that, I should like to hear whether you have
+anything new to tell me."
+
+The Governor pulled his moustaches with an embarrassed air.
+
+"The fact is, I came to know whether Your Eminence had anything to tell
+me. If you still have an objection to the course I proposed taking, I
+should be sincerely glad of your advice in the matter; for, honestly, I
+don't know what to do."
+
+"Is there any new difficulty?"
+
+"Only that next Thursday is the 3d of June,--Corpus Domini,--and somehow
+or other the matter must be settled before then."
+
+"Thursday is Corpus Domini, certainly; but why must it be settled
+especially before then?"
+
+"I am exceedingly sorry, Your Eminence, if I seem to oppose you, but I
+can't undertake to be responsible for the peace of the town if Rivarez
+is not got rid of before then. All the roughest set in the hills
+collects here for that day, as Your Eminence knows, and it is more than
+probable that they may attempt to break open the fortress gates and take
+him out. They won't succeed; I'll take care of that, if I have to sweep
+them from the gates with powder and shot. But we are very likely to have
+something of that kind before the day is over. Here in the Romagna there
+is bad blood in the people, and when once they get out their knives----"
+
+"I think with a little care we can prevent matters going as far as
+knives. I have always found the people of this district easy to get on
+with, if they are reasonably treated. Of course, if you once begin to
+threaten or coerce a Romagnol he becomes unmanageable. But have you any
+reason for supposing a new rescue scheme is intended?"
+
+"I heard, both this morning and yesterday, from confidential agents of
+mine, that a great many rumours are circulating all over the district
+and that the people are evidently up to some mischief or other. But
+one can't find out the details; if one could it would be easier to take
+precautions. And for my part, after the fright we had the other day, I
+prefer to be on the safe side. With such a cunning fox as Rivarez one
+can't be too careful."
+
+"The last I heard about Rivarez was that he was too ill to move or
+speak. Is he recovering, then?"
+
+"He seems much better now, Your Eminence. He certainly has been very
+ill--unless he was shamming all the time."
+
+"Have you any reason for supposing that likely?"
+
+"Well, the doctor seems convinced that it was all genuine; but it's a
+very mysterious kind of illness. Any way, he is recovering, and more
+intractable than ever."
+
+"What has he done now?"
+
+"There's not much he can do, fortunately," the Governor answered,
+smiling as he remembered the straps. "But his behaviour is something
+indescribable. Yesterday morning I went into the cell to ask him a
+few questions; he is not well enough yet to come to me for
+interrogation--and indeed, I thought it best not to run any risk of
+the people seeing him until he recovers. Such absurd stories always get
+about at once."
+
+"So you went there to interrogate him?"
+
+"Yes, Your Eminence. I hoped he would be more amenable to reason now."
+
+Montanelli looked him over deliberately, almost as if he had been
+inspecting a new and disagreeable animal. Fortunately, however, the
+Governor was fingering his sword-belt, and did not see the look. He went
+on placidly:
+
+"I have not subjected him to any particular severities, but I have been
+obliged to be rather strict with him--especially as it is a military
+prison--and I thought that perhaps a little indulgence might have a
+good effect. I offered to relax the discipline considerably if he would
+behave in a reasonable manner; and how does Your Eminence suppose he
+answered me? He lay looking at me a minute, like a wolf in a cage, and
+then said quite softly: 'Colonel, I can't get up and strangle you;
+but my teeth are pretty good; you had better take your throat a little
+further off.' He is as savage as a wild-cat."
+
+"I am not surprised to hear it," Montanelli answered quietly. "But I
+came to ask you a question. Do you honestly believe that the presence of
+Rivarez in the prison here constitutes a serious danger to the peace of
+the district?"
+
+"Most certainly I do, Your Eminence."
+
+"You think that, to prevent the risk of bloodshed, it is absolutely
+necessary that he should somehow be got rid of before Corpus Domini?"
+
+"I can only repeat that if he is here on Thursday, I do not expect the
+festival to pass over without a fight, and I think it likely to be a
+serious one."
+
+"And you think that if he were not here there would be no such danger?"
+
+"In that case, there would either be no disturbance at all, or at most
+a little shouting and stone-throwing. If Your Eminence can find some way
+of getting rid of him, I will undertake that the peace shall be kept.
+Otherwise, I expect most serious trouble. I am convinced that a new
+rescue plot is on hand, and Thursday is the day when we may expect the
+attempt. Now, if on that very morning they suddenly find that he is not
+in the fortress at all, their plan fails of itself, and they have no
+occasion to begin fighting. But if we have to repulse them, and the
+daggers once get drawn among such throngs of people, we are likely to
+have the place burnt down before nightfall."
+
+"Then why do you not send him in to Ravenna?"
+
+"Heaven knows, Your Eminence, I should be thankful to do it! But how
+am I to prevent the people rescuing him on the way? I have not soldiers
+enough to resist an armed attack; and all these mountaineers have got
+knives or flint-locks or some such thing."
+
+"You still persist, then, in wishing for a court-martial, and in asking
+my consent to it?"
+
+"Pardon me, Your Eminence; I ask you only one thing--to help me prevent
+riots and bloodshed. I am quite willing to admit that the military
+commissions, such as that of Colonel Freddi, were sometimes
+unnecessarily severe, and irritated instead of subduing the people; but
+I think that in this case a court-martial would be a wise measure and
+in the long run a merciful one. It would prevent a riot, which in itself
+would be a terrible disaster, and which very likely might cause a return
+of the military commissions His Holiness has abolished."
+
+The Governor finished his little speech with much solemnity, and waited
+for the Cardinal's answer. It was a long time coming; and when it came
+was startlingly unexpected.
+
+"Colonel Ferrari, do you believe in God?"
+
+"Your Eminence!" the colonel gasped in a voice full of
+exclamation-stops.
+
+"Do you believe in God?" Montanelli repeated, rising and looking down at
+him with steady, searching eyes. The colonel rose too.
+
+"Your Eminence, I am a Christian man, and have never yet been refused
+absolution."
+
+Montanelli lifted the cross from his breast.
+
+"Then swear on the cross of the Redeemer Who died for you, that you have
+been speaking the truth to me."
+
+The colonel stood still and gazed at it blankly. He could not quite make
+up his mind which was mad, he or the Cardinal.
+
+"You have asked me," Montanelli went on, "to give my consent to a man's
+death. Kiss the cross, if you dare, and tell me that you believe there
+is no other way to prevent greater bloodshed. And remember that if you
+tell me a lie you are imperilling your immortal soul."
+
+After a little pause, the Governor bent down and put the cross to his
+lips.
+
+"I believe it," he said.
+
+Montanelli turned slowly away.
+
+"I will give you a definite answer to-morrow. But first I must see
+Rivarez and speak to him alone."
+
+"Your Eminence--if I might suggest--I am sure you will regret it. For
+that matter, he sent me a message yesterday, by the guard, asking to see
+Your Eminence; but I took no notice of it, because----"
+
+"Took no notice!" Montanelli repeated. "A man in such circumstances sent
+you a message, and you took no notice of it?"
+
+"I am sorry if Your Eminence is displeased. I did not wish to trouble
+you over a mere impertinence like that; I know Rivarez well enough by
+now to feel sure that he only wanted to insult you. And, indeed, if
+you will allow me to say so, it would be most imprudent to go near him
+alone; he is really dangerous--so much so, in fact, that I have thought
+it necessary to use some physical restraint of a mild kind------"
+
+"And you really think there is much danger to be apprehended from one
+sick and unarmed man, who is under physical restraint of a mild kind?"
+Montanelli spoke quite gently, but the colonel felt the sting of his
+quiet contempt, and flushed under it resentfully.
+
+"Your Eminence will do as you think best," he said in his stiffest
+manner. "I only wished to spare you the pain of hearing this man's awful
+blasphemies."
+
+"Which do you think the more grievous misfortune for a Christian man;
+to hear a blasphemous word uttered, or to abandon a fellow-creature in
+extremity?"
+
+The Governor stood erect and stiff, with his official face, like a face
+of wood. He was deeply offended at Montanelli's treatment of him, and
+showed it by unusual ceremoniousness.
+
+"At what time does Your Eminence wish to visit the prisoner?" he asked.
+
+"I will go to him at once."
+
+"As Your Eminence pleases. If you will kindly wait a few moments, I will
+send someone to prepare him."
+
+The Governor had come down from his official pedestal in a great hurry.
+He did not want Montanelli to see the straps.
+
+"Thank you; I would rather see him as he is, without preparation. I will
+go straight up to the fortress. Good-evening, colonel; you may expect my
+answer to-morrow morning."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+HEARING the cell-door unlocked, the Gadfly turned away his eyes with
+languid indifference. He supposed that it was only the Governor, coming
+to worry him with another interrogation. Several soldiers mounted
+the narrow stair, their carbines clanking against the wall; then a
+deferential voice said: "It is rather steep here, Your Eminence."
+
+He started convulsively, and then shrank down, catching his breath under
+the stinging pressure of the straps.
+
+Montanelli came in with the sergeant and three guards.
+
+"If Your Eminence will kindly wait a moment," the sergeant began
+nervously, "one of my men will bring a chair. He has just gone to fetch
+it. Your Eminence will excuse us--if we had been expecting you, we
+should have been prepared."
+
+"There is no need for any preparation. Will you kindly leave us alone,
+sergeant; and wait at the foot of the stairs with your men?"
+
+"Yes, Your Eminence. Here is the chair; shall I put it beside him?"
+
+The Gadfly was lying with closed eyes; but he felt that Montanelli was
+looking at him.
+
+"I think he is asleep, Your Eminence," the sergeant was beginning, but
+the Gadfly opened his eyes.
+
+"No," he said.
+
+As the soldiers were leaving the cell they were stopped by a sudden
+exclamation from Montanelli; and, turning back, saw that he was bending
+down to examine the straps.
+
+"Who has been doing this?" he asked. The sergeant fumbled with his cap.
+
+"It was by the Governor's express orders, Your Eminence."
+
+"I had no idea of this, Signor Rivarez," Montanelli said in a voice of
+great distress.
+
+"I told Your Eminence," the Gadfly answered, with his hard smile, "that
+I n-n-never expected to be patted on the head."
+
+"Sergeant, how long has this been going on?"
+
+"Since he tried to escape, Your Eminence."
+
+"That is, nearly a week? Bring a knife and cut these off at once."
+
+"May it please Your Eminence, the doctor wanted to take them off, but
+Colonel Ferrari wouldn't allow it."
+
+"Bring a knife at once." Montanelli had not raised his voice, but the
+soldiers could see that he was white with anger. The sergeant took a
+clasp-knife from his pocket, and bent down to cut the arm-strap. He
+was not a skilful-fingered man; and he jerked the strap tighter with an
+awkward movement, so that the Gadfly winced and bit his lip in spite of
+all his self-control. Montanelli came forward at once.
+
+"You don't know how to do it; give me the knife."
+
+"Ah-h-h!" The Gadfly stretched out his arms with a long, rapturous sigh
+as the strap fell off. The next instant Montanelli had cut the other
+one, which bound his ankles.
+
+"Take off the irons, too, sergeant; and then come here. I want to speak
+to you."
+
+He stood by the window, looking on, till the sergeant threw down the
+fetters and approached him.
+
+"Now," he said, "tell me everything that has been happening."
+
+The sergeant, nothing loath, related all that he knew of the
+Gadfly's illness, of the "disciplinary measures," and of the doctor's
+unsuccessful attempt to interfere.
+
+"But I think, Your Eminence," he added, "that the colonel wanted the
+straps kept on as a means of getting evidence."
+
+"Evidence?"
+
+"Yes, Your Eminence; the day before yesterday I heard him offer to have
+them taken off if he"--with a glance at the Gadfly--"would answer a
+question he had asked."
+
+Montanelli clenched his hand on the window-sill, and the soldiers
+glanced at one another: they had never seen the gentle Cardinal angry
+before. As for the Gadfly, he had forgotten their existence; he had
+forgotten everything except the physical sensation of freedom. He was
+cramped in every limb; and now stretched, and turned, and twisted about
+in a positive ecstasy of relief.
+
+"You can go now, sergeant," the Cardinal said. "You need not feel
+anxious about having committed a breach of discipline; it was your duty
+to tell me when I asked you. See that no one disturbs us. I will come
+out when I am ready."
+
+When the door had closed behind the soldiers, he leaned on the
+window-sill and looked for a while at the sinking sun, so as to leave
+the Gadfly a little more breathing time.
+
+"I have heard," he said presently, leaving the window, and sitting down
+beside the pallet, "that you wish to speak to me alone. If you feel well
+enough to tell me what you wanted to say, I am at your service."
+
+He spoke very coldly, with a stiff, imperious manner that was not
+natural to him. Until the straps were off, the Gadfly was to him simply
+a grievously wronged and tortured human being; but now he recalled their
+last interview, and the deadly insult with which it had closed. The
+Gadfly looked up, resting his head lazily on one arm. He possessed
+the gift of slipping into graceful attitudes; and when his face was in
+shadow no one would have guessed through what deep waters he had been
+passing. But, as he looked up, the clear evening light showed how
+haggard and colourless he was, and how plainly the trace of the last few
+days was stamped on him. Montanelli's anger died away.
+
+"I am afraid you have been terribly ill," he said. "I am sincerely sorry
+that I did not know of all this. I would have put a stop to it before."
+
+The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. "All's fair in war," he said coolly.
+"Your Eminence objects to straps theoretically, from the Christian
+standpoint; but it is hardly fair to expect the colonel to see that.
+He, no doubt, would prefer not to try them on his own skin--which is
+j-j-just my case. But that is a matter of p-p-personal convenience. At
+this moment I am undermost--w-w-what would you have? It is very kind of
+Your Eminence, though, to call here; but perhaps that was done from the
+C-c-christian standpoint, too. Visiting prisoners--ah, yes! I forgot.
+'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the l-least of these'--it's not very
+complimentary, but one of the least is duly grateful."
+
+"Signor Rivarez," the Cardinal interrupted, "I have come here on your
+account--not on my own. If you had not been 'undermost,' as you call it,
+I should never have spoken to you again after what you said to me last
+week; but you have the double privilege of a prisoner and a sick man,
+and I could not refuse to come. Have you anything to say to me, now I am
+here; or have you sent for me merely to amuse yourself by insulting an
+old man?"
+
+There was no answer. The Gadfly had turned away, and was lying with one
+hand across his eyes.
+
+"I am--very sorry to trouble you," he said at last, huskily; "but could
+I have a little water?"
+
+There was a jug of water standing by the window, and Montanelli rose
+and fetched it. As he slipped his arm round the Gadfly to lift him, he
+suddenly felt the damp, cold fingers close over his wrist like a vice.
+
+"Give me your hand--quick--just a moment," the Gadfly whispered. "Oh,
+what difference does it make to you? Only one minute!"
+
+He sank down, hiding his face on Montanelli's arm, and quivering from
+head to foot.
+
+"Drink a little water," Montanelli said after a moment. The Gadfly
+obeyed silently; then lay back on the pallet with closed eyes. He
+himself could have given no explanation of what had happened to him when
+Montanelli's hand had touched his cheek; he only knew that in all his
+life there had been nothing more terrible.
+
+Montanelli drew his chair closer to the pallet and sat down. The Gadfly
+was lying quite motionless, like a corpse, and his face was livid
+and drawn. After a long silence, he opened his eyes, and fixed their
+haunting, spectral gaze on the Cardinal.
+
+"Thank you," he said. "I--am sorry. I think--you asked me something?"
+
+"You are not fit to talk. If there is anything you want to say to me, I
+will try to come again to-morrow."
+
+"Please don't go, Your Eminence--indeed, there is nothing the matter
+with me. I--I have been a little upset these few days; it was half of it
+malingering, though--the colonel will tell you so if you ask him."
+
+"I prefer to form my own conclusions," Montanelli answered quietly.
+
+"S-so does the colonel. And occasionally, do you know, they are rather
+witty. You w-w-wouldn't think it to look at him; but s-s-sometimes he
+gets hold of an or-r-riginal idea. On Friday night, for instance--I
+think it was Friday, but I got a l-little mixed as to time towards
+the end--anyhow, I asked for a d-dose of opium--I remember that quite
+distinctly; and he came in here and said I m-might h-h-have it if I
+would tell him who un-l-l-locked the gate. I remember his saying: 'If
+it's real, you'll consent; if you don't, I shall look upon it as a
+p-proof that you are shamming.' It n-n-never oc-c-curred to me before
+how comic that is; it's one of the f-f-funniest things----"
+
+He burst into a sudden fit of harsh, discordant laughter; then, turning
+sharply on the silent Cardinal, went on, more and more hurriedly, and
+stammering so that the words were hardly intelligible:
+
+"You d-d-don't see that it's f-f-funny? Of c-course not; you r-religious
+people n-n-never have any s-sense of humour--you t-take everything
+t-t-tragically. F-for instance, that night in the Cath-thedral--how
+solemn you were! By the way--w-what a path-thetic figure I must
+have c-cut as the pilgrim! I d-don't believe you e-even see anything
+c-c-comic in the b-business you have c-come about this evening."
+
+Montanelli rose.
+
+"I came to hear what you have to say; but I think you are too much
+excited to say it to-night. The doctor had better give you a sedative,
+and we will talk to-morrow, when you have had a night's sleep."
+
+"S-sleep? Oh, I shall s-sleep well enough, Your Eminence, when you
+g-give your c-consent to the colonel's plan--an ounce of l-lead is a
+s-splendid sedative."
+
+"I don't understand you," Montanelli said, turning to him with a
+startled look.
+
+The Gadfly burst out laughing again.
+
+"Your Eminence, Your Eminence, t-t-truth is the c-chief of the Christian
+virtues! D-d-do you th-th-think I d-d-don't know how hard the Governor
+has been trying to g-get your consent to a court-martial? You had
+b-better by half g-give it, Your Eminence; it's only w-what all your
+b-brother prelates would do in your place. 'Cosi fan tutti;' and then
+you would be doing s-such a lot of good, and so l-little harm! Really,
+it's n-not worth all the sleepless nights you have been spending over
+it!"
+
+"Please stop laughing a minute," Montanelli interrupted, "and tell me
+how you heard all this. Who has been talking to you about it?"
+
+"H-hasn't the colonel e-e-ever told you I am a d-d-devil--not a man? No?
+He has t-told me so often enough! Well, I am devil enough to f-find
+out a little bit what p-people are thinking about. Your E-eminence is
+thinking that I'm a conf-founded nuisance, and you wish s-somebody
+else had to settle what's to be done with me, without disturbing your
+s-sensitive conscience. That's a p-pretty fair guess, isn't it?"
+
+"Listen to me," the Cardinal said, sitting down again beside him, with
+a very grave face. "However you found out all this, it is quite true.
+Colonel Ferrari fears another rescue attempt on the part of your
+friends, and wishes to forestall it in--the way you speak of. You see, I
+am quite frank with you."
+
+"Your E-eminence was always f-f-famous for truthfulness," the Gadfly put
+in bitterly.
+
+"You know, of course," Montanelli went on, "that legally I have no
+jurisdiction in temporal matters; I am a bishop, not a legate. But I
+have a good deal of influence in this district; and the colonel will
+not, I think, venture to take so extreme a course unless he can get,
+at least, my tacit consent to it. Up till now I have unconditionally
+opposed the scheme; and he has been trying very hard to conquer my
+objection by assuring me that there is great danger of an armed attempt
+on Thursday when the crowd collects for the procession--an attempt which
+probably would end in bloodshed. Do you follow me?"
+
+The Gadfly was staring absently out of the window. He looked round and
+answered in a weary voice:
+
+"Yes, I am listening."
+
+"Perhaps you are really not well enough to stand this conversation
+to-night. Shall I come back in the morning? It is a very serious matter,
+and I want your whole attention."
+
+"I would rather get it over now," the Gadfly answered in the same tone.
+"I follow everything you say."
+
+"Now, if it be true," Montanelli went on, "that there is any real danger
+of riots and bloodshed on account of you, I am taking upon myself a
+tremendous responsibility in opposing the colonel; and I believe there
+is at least some truth in what he says. On the other hand, I am inclined
+to think that his judgment is warped, to a certain extent, by his
+personal animosity against you, and that he probably exaggerates the
+danger. That seems to me the more likely since I have seen this shameful
+brutality." He glanced at the straps and chains lying on the floor, and
+went on:
+
+"If I consent, I kill you; if I refuse, I run the risk of killing
+innocent persons. I have considered the matter earnestly, and have
+sought with all my heart for a way out of this dreadful alternative. And
+now at last I have made up my mind."
+
+"To kill me and s-save the innocent persons, of course--the only
+decision a Christian man could possibly come to. 'If thy r-right hand
+offend thee,' etc. I have n-not the honour to be the right hand of Your
+Eminence, and I have offended you; the c-c-conclusion is plain. Couldn't
+you tell me that without so much preamble?"
+
+The Gadfly spoke with languid indifference and contempt, like a man
+weary of the whole subject.
+
+"Well?" he added after a little pause. "Was that the decision, Your
+Eminence?"
+
+"No."
+
+The Gadfly shifted his position, putting both hands behind his head, and
+looked at Montanelli with half-shut eyes. The Cardinal, with his head
+sunk down as in deep thought, was softly beating one hand on the arm of
+his chair. Ah, that old, familiar gesture!
+
+"I have decided," he said, raising his head at last, "to do, I suppose,
+an utterly unprecedented thing. When I heard that you had asked to see
+me, I resolved to come here and tell you everything, as I have done, and
+to place the matter in your own hands."
+
+"In--my hands?"
+
+"Signor Rivarez, I have not come to you as cardinal, or as bishop, or
+as judge; I have come to you as one man to another. I do not ask you to
+tell me whether you know of any such scheme as the colonel apprehends.
+I understand quite well that, if you do, it is your secret and you will
+not tell it. But I do ask you to put yourself in my place. I am old,
+and, no doubt, have not much longer to live. I would go down to my grave
+without blood on my hands."
+
+"Is there none on them as yet, Your Eminence?"
+
+Montanelli grew a shade paler, but went on quietly:
+
+"All my life I have opposed repressive measures and cruelty wherever I
+have met with them. I have always disapproved of capital punishment in
+all its forms; I have protested earnestly and repeatedly against the
+military commissions in the last reign, and have been out of favour
+on account of doing so. Up till now such influence and power as I have
+possessed have always been employed on the side of mercy. I ask you to
+believe me, at least, that I am speaking the truth. Now, I am placed in
+this dilemma. By refusing, I am exposing the town to the danger of
+riots and all their consequences; and this to save the life of a man
+who blasphemes against my religion, who has slandered and wronged and
+insulted me personally (though that is comparatively a trifle), and who,
+as I firmly believe, will put that life to a bad use when it is given to
+him. But--it is to save a man's life."
+
+He paused a moment, and went on again:
+
+"Signor Rivarez, everything that I know of your career seems to me bad
+and mischievous; and I have long believed you to be reckless and violent
+and unscrupulous. To some extent I hold that opinion of you still. But
+during this last fortnight you have shown me that you are a brave man
+and that you can be faithful to your friends. You have made the soldiers
+love and admire you, too; and not every man could have done that.
+I think that perhaps I have misjudged you, and that there is in you
+something better than what you show outside. To that better self in
+you I appeal, and solemnly entreat you, on your conscience, to tell me
+truthfully--in my place, what would you do?"
+
+A long silence followed; then the Gadfly looked up.
+
+"At least, I would decide my own actions for myself, and take the
+consequences of them. I would not come sneaking to other people, in the
+cowardly Christian way, asking them to solve my problems for me!"
+
+The onslaught was so sudden, and its extraordinary vehemence and passion
+were in such startling contrast to the languid affectation of a moment
+before, that it was as though he had thrown off a mask.
+
+"We atheists," he went on fiercely, "understand that if a man has a
+thing to bear, he must bear it as best he can; and if he sinks under
+it--why, so much the worse for him. But a Christian comes whining to his
+God, or his saints; or, if they won't help him, to his enemies--he can
+always find a back to shift his burdens on to. Isn't there a rule to go
+by in your Bible, or your Missal, or any of your canting theology books,
+that you must come to me to tell you what to do? Heavens and earth, man!
+Haven't I enough as it is, without your laying your responsibilities on
+my shoulders? Go back to your Jesus; he exacted the uttermost farthing,
+and you'd better do the same. After all, you'll only be killing an
+atheist--a man who boggles over 'shibboleth'; and that's no great crime,
+surely!"
+
+He broke off, panting for breath, and then burst out again:
+
+"And YOU to talk of cruelty! Why, that p-p-pudding-headed ass couldn't
+hurt me as much as you do if he tried for a year; he hasn't got the
+brains. All he can think of is to pull a strap tight, and when he can't
+get it any tighter he's at the end of his resources. Any fool can
+do that! But you---- 'Sign your own death sentence, please; I'm too
+tender-hearted to do it myself.' Oh! it would take a Christian to hit on
+that--a gentle, compassionate Christian, that turns pale at the sight of
+a strap pulled too tight! I might have known when you came in, like an
+angel of mercy--so shocked at the colonel's 'barbarity'--that the real
+thing was going to begin! Why do you look at me that way? Consent, man,
+of course, and go home to your dinner; the thing's not worth all this
+fuss. Tell your colonel he can have me shot, or hanged, or whatever
+comes handiest--roasted alive, if it's any amusement to him--and be done
+with it!"
+
+The Gadfly was hardly recognizable; he was beside himself with rage
+and desperation, panting and quivering, his eyes glittering with green
+reflections like the eyes of an angry cat.
+
+Montanelli had risen, and was looking down at him silently. He did not
+understand the drift of the frenzied reproaches, but he understood out
+of what extremity they were uttered; and, understanding that, forgave
+all past insults.
+
+"Hush!" he said. "I did not want to hurt you so. Indeed, I never meant
+to shift my burden on to you, who have too much already. I have never
+consciously done that to any living creature----"
+
+"It's a lie!" the Gadfly cried out with blazing eyes. "And the
+bishopric?"
+
+"The--bishopric?"
+
+"Ah! you've forgotten that? It's so easy to forget! 'If you wish it,
+Arthur, I will say I cannot go. I was to decide your life for you--I, at
+nineteen! If it weren't so hideous, it would be funny."
+
+"Stop!" Montanelli put up both hands to his head with a desperate cry.
+He let them fall again, and walked slowly away to the window. There
+he sat down on the sill, resting one arm on the bars, and pressing his
+forehead against it. The Gadfly lay and watched him, trembling.
+
+Presently Montanelli rose and came back, with lips as pale as ashes.
+
+"I am very sorry," he said, struggling piteously to keep up his usual
+quiet manner, "but I must go home. I--am not quite well."
+
+He was shivering as if with ague. All the Gadfly's fury broke down.
+
+"Padre, can't you see----"
+
+Montanelli shrank away, and stood still.
+
+"Only not that!" he whispered at last. "My God, anything but that! If I
+am going mad----"
+
+The Gadfly raised himself on one arm, and took the shaking hands in his.
+
+"Padre, will you never understand that I am not really drowned?"
+
+The hands grew suddenly cold and stiff. For a moment everything was dead
+with silence, and then Montanelli knelt down and hid his face on the
+Gadfly's breast.
+
+    *****
+
+When he raised his head the sun had set, and the red glow was dying in
+the west. They had forgotten time and place, and life and death; they
+had forgotten, even, that they were enemies.
+
+"Arthur," Montanelli whispered, "are you real? Have you come back to me
+from the dead?"
+
+"From the dead----" the Gadfly repeated, shivering. He was lying with
+his head on Montanelli's arm, as a sick child might lie in its mother's
+embrace.
+
+"You have come back--you have come back at last!"
+
+The Gadfly sighed heavily. "Yes," he said; "and you have to fight me, or
+to kill me."
+
+"Oh, hush, carino! What is all that now? We have been like two children
+lost in the dark, mistaking one another for phantoms. Now we have found
+each other, and have come out into the light. My poor boy, how changed
+you are--how changed you are! You look as if all the ocean of the
+world's misery had passed over your head--you that used to be so full of
+the joy of life! Arthur, is it really you? I have dreamed so often that
+you had come back to me; and then have waked and seen the outer darkness
+staring in upon an empty place. How can I know I shall not wake again
+and find it all a dream? Give me something tangible--tell me how it all
+happened."
+
+"It happened simply enough. I hid on a goods vessel, as stowaway, and
+got out to South America."
+
+"And there?"
+
+"There I--lived, if you like to call it so, till--oh, I have seen
+something else besides theological seminaries since you used to teach me
+philosophy! You say you have dreamed of me--yes, and much! You say you
+have dreamed of me--yes, and I of you----"
+
+He broke off, shuddering.
+
+"Once," he began again abruptly, "I was working at a mine in
+Ecuador----"
+
+"Not as a miner?"
+
+"No, as a miner's fag--odd-jobbing with the coolies. We had a barrack to
+sleep in at the pit's mouth; and one night--I had been ill, the same
+as lately, and carrying stones in the blazing sun--I must have got
+light-headed, for I saw you come in at the door-way. You were holding a
+crucifix like that one on the wall. You were praying, and brushed past
+me without turning. I cried out to you to help me--to give me poison
+or a knife--something to put an end to it all before I went mad. And
+you--ah------!"
+
+He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli was still clasping the
+other.
+
+"I saw in your face that you had heard, but you never looked round;
+you went on with your prayers. When you had finished, and kissed the
+crucifix, you glanced round and whispered: 'I am very sorry for you,
+Arthur; but I daren't show it; He would be angry.' And I looked at Him,
+and the wooden image was laughing.
+
+"Then, when I came to my senses, and saw the barrack and the coolies
+with their leprosy, I understood. I saw that you care more to curry
+favour with that devilish God of yours than to save me from any hell.
+And I have remembered that. I forgot just now when you touched me;
+I--have been ill, and I used to love you once. But there can be nothing
+between us but war, and war, and war. What do you want to hold my hand
+for? Can't you see that while you believe in your Jesus we can't be
+anything but enemies?"
+
+Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand.
+
+"Arthur, how can I help believing in Him? If I have kept my faith
+through all these frightful years, how can I ever doubt Him any more,
+now that He has given you back to me? Remember, I thought I had killed
+you."
+
+"You have that still to do."
+
+"Arthur!" It was a cry of actual terror; but the Gadfly went on,
+unheeding:
+
+"Let us be honest, whatever we do, and not shilly-shally. You and I
+stand on two sides of a pit, and it's hopeless trying to join hands
+across it. If you have decided that you can't, or won't, give up that
+thing"--he glanced again at the crucifix on the wall--"you must consent
+to what the colonel----"
+
+"Consent! My God--consent--Arthur, but I love you!"
+
+The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully.
+
+"Which do you love best, me or that thing?"
+
+Montanelli slowly rose. The very soul in him withered with dread, and
+he seemed to shrivel up bodily, and to grow feeble, and old, and wilted,
+like a leaf that the frost has touched. He had awaked out of his dream,
+and the outer darkness was staring in upon an empty place.
+
+"Arthur, have just a little mercy on me----"
+
+"How much had you for me when your lies drove me out to be slave to
+the blacks on the sugar-plantations? You shudder at that--ah, these
+tender-hearted saints! This is the man after God's own heart--the man
+that repents of his sin and lives. No one dies but his son. You say you
+love me,--your love has cost me dear enough! Do you think I can blot out
+everything, and turn back into Arthur at a few soft words--I, that have
+been dish-washer in filthy half-caste brothels and stable-boy to Creole
+farmers that were worse brutes than their own cattle? I, that have
+been zany in cap and bells for a strolling variety show--drudge and
+Jack-of-all-trades to the matadors in the bull-fighting ring; I, that
+have been slave to every black beast who cared to set his foot on my
+neck; I, that have been starved and spat upon and trampled under foot;
+I, that have begged for mouldy scraps and been refused because the dogs
+had the first right? Oh, what is the use of all this! How can I TELL you
+what you have brought on me? And now--you love me! How much do you love
+me? Enough to give up your God for me? Oh, what has He done for you,
+this everlasting Jesus,--what has He suffered for you, that you should
+love Him more than me? Is it for the pierced hands He is so dear to you?
+Look at mine! Look here, and here, and here----"
+
+He tore open his shirt and showed the ghastly scars.
+
+"Padre, this God of yours is an impostor, His wounds are sham wounds,
+His pain is all a farce! It is I that have the right to your heart!
+Padre, there is no torture you have not put me to; if you could only
+know what my life has been! And yet I would not die! I have endured it
+all, and have possessed my soul in patience, because I would come
+back and fight this God of yours. I have held this purpose as a shield
+against my heart, and it has saved me from madness, and from the second
+death. And now, when I come back, I find Him still in my place--this
+sham victim that was crucified for six hours, forsooth, and rose again
+from the dead! Padre, I have been crucified for five years, and I, too,
+have risen from the dead. What are you going to do with me? What are you
+going to do with me?"
+
+He broke down. Montanelli sat like some stone image, or like a dead man
+set upright. At first, under the fiery torrent of the Gadfly's despair,
+he had quivered a little, with the automatic shrinking of the flesh,
+as under the lash of a whip; but now he was quite still. After a long
+silence he looked up and spoke, lifelessly, patiently:
+
+"Arthur, will you explain to me more clearly? You confuse and terrify me
+so, I can't understand. What is it you demand of me?"
+
+The Gadfly turned to him a spectral face.
+
+"I demand nothing. Who shall compel love? You are free to choose between
+us two the one who is most dear to you. If you love Him best, choose
+Him."
+
+"I can't understand," Montanelli repeated wearily. "What is there I can
+choose? I cannot undo the past."
+
+"You have to choose between us. If you love me, take that cross off your
+neck and come away with me. My friends are arranging another attempt,
+and with your help they could manage it easily. Then, when we are safe
+over the frontier, acknowledge me publicly. But if you don't love me
+enough for that,--if this wooden idol is more to you than I,--then go
+to the colonel and tell him you consent. And if you go, then go at once,
+and spare me the misery of seeing you. I have enough without that."
+
+Montanelli looked up, trembling faintly. He was beginning to understand.
+
+"I will communicate with your friends, of course. But--to go with
+you--it is impossible--I am a priest."
+
+"And I accept no favours from priests. I will have no more compromises,
+Padre; I have had enough of them, and of their consequences. You must
+give up your priesthood, or you must give up me."
+
+"How can I give you up? Arthur, how can I give you up?"
+
+"Then give up Him. You have to choose between us. Would you offer me a
+share of your love--half for me, half for your fiend of a God? I will
+not take His leavings. If you are His, you are not mine."
+
+"Would you have me tear my heart in two? Arthur! Arthur! Do you want to
+drive me mad?"
+
+The Gadfly struck his hand against the wall.
+
+"You have to choose between us," he repeated once more.
+
+Montanelli drew from his breast a little case containing a bit of soiled
+and crumpled paper.
+
+"Look!" he said.
+
+
+"I believed in you, as I believed in God. God is a thing made of clay,
+that I can smash with a hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie."
+
+
+The Gadfly laughed and handed it back. "How d-d-delightfully young one
+is at nineteen! To take a hammer and smash things seems so easy. It's
+that now--only it's I that am under the hammer. As for you, there are
+plenty of other people you can fool with lies--and they won't even find
+you out."
+
+"As you will," Montanelli said. "Perhaps in your place I should be as
+merciless as you--God knows. I can't do what you ask, Arthur; but I will
+do what I can. I will arrange your escape, and when you are safe I will
+have an accident in the mountains, or take the wrong sleeping-draught by
+mistake--whatever you like to choose. Will that content you? It is all
+I can do. It is a great sin; but I think He will forgive me. He is more
+merciful------"
+
+The Gadfly flung out both hands with a sharp cry.
+
+"Oh, that is too much! That is too much! What have I done that you
+should think of me that way? What right have you---- As if I wanted to
+be revenged on you! Can't you see that I only want to save you? Will you
+never understand that I love you?"
+
+He caught hold of Montanelli's hands and covered them with burning
+kisses and tears.
+
+"Padre, come away with us! What have you to do with this dead world of
+priests and idols? They are full of the dust of bygone ages; they are
+rotten; they are pestilent and foul! Come out of this plague-stricken
+Church--come away with us into the light! Padre, it is we that are life
+and youth; it is we that are the everlasting springtime; it is we that
+are the future! Padre, the dawn is close upon us--will you miss
+your part in the sunrise? Wake up, and let us forget the horrible
+nightmares,--wake up, and we will begin our life again! Padre, I have
+always loved you--always, even when you killed me--will you kill me
+again?"
+
+Montanelli tore his hands away. "Oh, God have mercy on me!" he cried
+out. "YOU HAVE YOUR MOTHER'S EYES!"
+
+A strange silence, long and deep and sudden, fell upon them both. In the
+gray twilight they looked at each other, and their hearts stood still
+with fear.
+
+"Have you anything more to say?" Montanelli whispered. "Any--hope to
+give me?"
+
+"No. My life is of no use to me except to fight priests. I am not a man;
+I am a knife. If you let me live, you sanction knives."
+
+Montanelli turned to the crucifix. "God! Listen to this----"
+
+His voice died away into the empty stillness without response. Only the
+mocking devil awoke again in the Gadfly.
+
+"'C-c-call him louder; perchance he s-s-sleepeth'----"
+
+Montanelli started up as if he had been struck. For a moment he stood
+looking straight before him;--then he sat down on the edge of the
+pallet, covered his face with both hands, and burst into tears. A long
+shudder passed through the Gadfly, and the damp cold broke out on his
+body. He knew what the tears meant.
+
+He drew the blanket over his head that he might not hear. It was enough
+that he had to die--he who was so vividly, magnificently alive. But he
+could not shut out the sound; it rang in his ears, it beat in his brain,
+it throbbed in all his pulses. And still Montanelli sobbed and sobbed,
+and the tears dripped down between his fingers.
+
+He left off sobbing at last, and dried his eyes with his handkerchief,
+like a child that has been crying. As he stood up the handkerchief
+slipped from his knee and fell to the floor.
+
+"There is no use in talking any more," he said. "You understand?"
+
+"I understand," the Gadfly answered, with dull submission. "It's not
+your fault. Your God is hungry, and must be fed."
+
+Montanelli turned towards him. The grave that was to be dug was not more
+still than they were. Silent, they looked into each other's eyes, as two
+lovers, torn apart, might gaze across the barrier they cannot pass.
+
+It was the Gadfly whose eyes sank first. He shrank down, hiding his
+face; and Montanelli understood that the gesture meant "Go!" He turned,
+and went out of the cell. A moment later the Gadfly started up.
+
+"Oh, I can't bear it! Padre, come back! Come back!"
+
+The door was shut. He looked around him slowly, with a wide, still gaze,
+and understood that all was over. The Galilean had conquered.
+
+All night long the grass waved softly in the courtyard below--the grass
+that was so soon to wither, uprooted by the spade; and all night long
+the Gadfly lay alone in the darkness, and sobbed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE court-martial was held on Tuesday morning. It was a very short and
+simple affair; a mere formality, occupying barely twenty minutes. There
+was, indeed, nothing to spend much time over; no defence was allowed,
+and the only witnesses were the wounded spy and officer and a few
+soldiers. The sentence was drawn up beforehand; Montanelli had sent in
+the desired informal consent; and the judges (Colonel Ferrari, the local
+major of dragoons, and two officers of the Swiss guards) had little to
+do. The indictment was read aloud, the witnesses gave their evidence,
+and the signatures were affixed to the sentence, which was then read to
+the condemned man with befitting solemnity. He listened in silence; and
+when asked, according to the usual form, whether he had anything to say,
+merely waved the question aside with an impatient movement of his hand.
+Hidden on his breast was the handkerchief which Montanelli had let fall.
+It had been kissed and wept over all night, as though it were a living
+thing. Now he looked wan and spiritless, and the traces of tears were
+still about his eyelids; but the words: "to be shot," did not seem to
+affect him much. When they were uttered, the pupils of his eyes dilated,
+but that was all.
+
+"Take him back to his cell," the Governor said, when all the formalities
+were over; and the sergeant, who was evidently near to breaking down,
+touched the motionless figure on the shoulder. The Gadfly looked round
+him with a little start.
+
+"Ah, yes!" he said. "I forgot."
+
+There was something almost like pity in the Governor's face. He was not
+a cruel man by nature, and was secretly a little ashamed of the part
+he had been playing during the last month. Now that his main point was
+gained he was willing to make every little concession in his power.
+
+"You needn't put the irons on again," he said, glancing at the bruised
+and swollen wrists. "And he can stay in his own cell. The condemned cell
+is wretchedly dark and gloomy," he added, turning to his nephew; "and
+really the thing's a mere formality."
+
+He coughed and shifted his feet in evident embarrassment; then called
+back the sergeant, who was leaving the room with his prisoner.
+
+"Wait, sergeant; I want to speak to him."
+
+The Gadfly did not move, and the Governor's voice seemed to fall on
+unresponsive ears.
+
+"If you have any message you would like conveyed to your friends or
+relatives---- You have relatives, I suppose?"
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Well, think it over and tell me, or the priest. I will see it is not
+neglected. You had better give your messages to the priest; he shall
+come at once, and stay the night with you. If there is any other
+wish----"
+
+The Gadfly looked up.
+
+"Tell the priest I would rather be alone. I have no friends and no
+messages."
+
+"But you will want to confess."
+
+"I am an atheist. I want nothing but to be left in peace."
+
+He said it in a dull, quiet voice, without defiance or irritation; and
+turned slowly away. At the door he stopped again.
+
+"I forgot, colonel; there is a favour I wanted to ask. Don't let them
+tie me or bandage my eyes to-morrow, please. I will stand quite still."
+
+    *****
+
+At sunrise on Wednesday morning they brought him out into the courtyard.
+His lameness was more than usually apparent, and he walked with evident
+difficulty and pain, leaning heavily on the sergeant's arm; but all the
+weary submission had gone out of his face. The spectral terrors that
+had crushed him down in the empty silence, the visions and dreams of the
+world of shadows, were gone with the night which gave them birth; and
+once the sun was shining and his enemies were present to rouse the
+fighting spirit in him, he was not afraid.
+
+The six carabineers who had been told off for the execution were drawn
+up in line against the ivied wall; the same crannied and crumbling wall
+down which he had climbed on the night of his unlucky attempt. They
+could hardly refrain from weeping as they stood together, each man with
+his carbine in his hand. It seemed to them a horror beyond imagination
+that they should be called out to kill the Gadfly. He and his stinging
+repartees, his perpetual laughter, his bright, infectious courage, had
+come into their dull and dreary lives like a wandering sunbeam; and that
+he should die, and at their hands, was to them as the darkening of the
+clear lamps of heaven.
+
+Under the great fig-tree in the courtyard, his grave was waiting for
+him. It had been dug in the night by unwilling hands; and tears had
+fallen on the spade. As he passed he looked down, smiling, at the black
+pit and the withering grass beside it; and drew a long breath, to smell
+the scent of the freshly turned earth.
+
+Near the tree the sergeant stopped short, and the Gadfly looked round
+with his brightest smile.
+
+"Shall I stand here, sergeant?"
+
+The man nodded silently; there was a lump in his throat, and he
+could not have spoken to save his life. The Governor, his nephew, the
+lieutenant of carabineers who was to command, a doctor and a priest
+were already in the courtyard, and came forward with grave faces, half
+abashed under the radiant defiance of the Gadfly's laughing eyes.
+
+"G-good morning, gentlemen! Ah, and his reverence is up so early, too!
+How do you do, captain? This is a pleasanter occasion for you than our
+former meeting, isn't it? I see your arm is still in a sling;
+that's because I bungled my work. These good fellows will do theirs
+better--won't you, lads?"
+
+He glanced round at the gloomy faces of the carabineers.
+
+"There'll be no need of slings this time, any way. There, there, you
+needn't look so doleful over it! Put your heels together and show how
+straight you can shoot. Before long there'll be more work cut out
+for you than you'll know how to get through, and there's nothing like
+practice beforehand."
+
+"My son," the priest interrupted, coming forward, while the others drew
+back to leave them alone together; "in a few minutes you must enter into
+the presence of your Maker. Have you no other use but this for these
+last moments that are left you for repentance? Think, I entreat you,
+how dreadful a thing it is to die without absolution, with all your sins
+upon your head. When you stand before your Judge it will be too late to
+repent. Will you approach His awful throne with a jest upon your lips?"
+
+"A jest, your reverence? It is your side that needs that little homily,
+I think. When our turn comes we shall use field-guns instead of half a
+dozen second-hand carbines, and then you'll see how much we're in jest."
+
+"YOU will use field-guns! Oh, unhappy man! Have you still not realized
+on what frightful brink you stand?"
+
+The Gadfly glanced back over his shoulder at the open grave.
+
+"And s-s-so your reverence thinks that, when you have put me down there,
+you will have done with me? Perhaps you will lay a stone on the top to
+pre-v-vent a r-resurrection 'after three days'? No fear, your reverence!
+I shan't poach on the monopoly in cheap theatricals; I shall lie as
+still as a m-mouse, just where you put me. And all the same, WE shall
+use field-guns."
+
+"Oh, merciful God," the priest cried out; "forgive this wretched man!"
+
+"Amen!" murmured the lieutenant of carabineers, in a deep bass growl,
+while the colonel and his nephew crossed themselves devoutly.
+
+As there was evidently no hope of further insistence producing any
+effect, the priest gave up the fruitless attempt and moved aside,
+shaking his head and murmuring a prayer. The short and simple
+preparations were made without more delay, and the Gadfly placed himself
+in the required position, only turning his head to glance up for a
+moment at the red and yellow splendour of the sunrise. He had repeated
+the request that his eyes might not be bandaged, and his defiant face
+had wrung from the colonel a reluctant consent. They had both forgotten
+what they were inflicting on the soldiers.
+
+He stood and faced them, smiling, and the carbines shook in their hands.
+
+"I am quite ready," he said.
+
+The lieutenant stepped forward, trembling a little with excitement. He
+had never given the word of command for an execution before.
+
+"Ready--present--fire!"
+
+The Gadfly staggered a little and recovered his balance. One unsteady
+shot had grazed his cheek, and a little blood fell on to the white
+cravat. Another ball had struck him above the knee. When the smoke
+cleared away the soldiers looked and saw him smiling still and wiping
+the blood from his cheek with the mutilated hand.
+
+"A bad shot, men!" he said; and his voice cut in, clear and articulate,
+upon the dazed stupor of the wretched soldiers. "Have another try."
+
+A general groan and shudder passed through the row of carabineers. Each
+man had aimed aside, with a secret hope that the death-shot would come
+from his neighbour's hand, not his; and there the Gadfly stood and
+smiled at them; they had only turned the execution into a butchery, and
+the whole ghastly business was to do again. They were seized with sudden
+terror, and, lowering their carbines, listened hopelessly to the furious
+curses and reproaches of the officers, staring in dull horror at the man
+whom they had killed and who somehow was not dead.
+
+The Governor shook his fist in their faces, savagely shouting to them
+to stand in position, to present arms, to make haste and get the thing
+over. He had become as thoroughly demoralized as they were, and dared
+not look at the terrible figure that stood, and stood, and would not
+fall. When the Gadfly spoke to him he started and shuddered at the sound
+of the mocking voice.
+
+"You have brought out the awkward squad this morning, colonel! Let me
+see if I can manage them better. Now, men! Hold your tool higher there,
+you to the left. Bless your heart, man, it's a carbine you've got
+in your hand, not a frying-pan! Are you all straight? Now then!
+Ready--present----"
+
+"Fire!" the colonel interrupted, starting forward. It was intolerable
+that this man should give the command for his own death.
+
+There was another confused, disorganized volley, and the line broke up
+into a knot of shivering figures, staring before them with wild eyes.
+One of the soldiers had not even discharged his carbine; he had flung it
+away, and crouched down, moaning under his breath: "I can't--I can't!"
+
+The smoke cleared slowly away, floating up into the glimmer of the early
+sunlight; and they saw that the Gadfly had fallen; and saw, too, that he
+was still not dead. For the first moment soldiers and officials stood
+as if they had been turned to stone, and watched the ghastly thing that
+writhed and struggled on the ground; then both doctor and colonel rushed
+forward with a cry, for he had dragged himself up on one knee and was
+still facing the soldiers, and still laughing.
+
+"Another miss! Try--again, lads--see--if you can't----"
+
+He suddenly swayed and fell over sideways on the grass.
+
+"Is he dead?" the colonel asked under his breath; and the doctor,
+kneeling down, with a hand on the bloody shirt, answered softly:
+
+"I think so--God be praised!"
+
+"God be praised!" the colonel repeated. "At last!"
+
+His nephew was touching him on the arm.
+
+"Uncle! It's the Cardinal! He's at the gate and wants to come in."
+
+"What? He can't come in--I won't have it! What are the guards about?
+Your Eminence----"
+
+The gate had opened and shut, and Montanelli was standing in the
+courtyard, looking before him with still and awful eyes.
+
+"Your Eminence! I must beg of you--this is not a fit sight for you! The
+execution is only just over; the body is not yet----"
+
+"I have come to look at him," Montanelli said. Even at the moment
+it struck the Governor that his voice and bearing were those of a
+sleep-walker.
+
+"Oh, my God!" one of the soldiers cried out suddenly; and the Governor
+glanced hastily back. Surely------
+
+The blood-stained heap on the grass had once more begun to struggle and
+moan. The doctor flung himself down and lifted the head upon his knee.
+
+"Make haste!" he cried in desperation. "You savages, make haste! Get it
+over, for God's sake! There's no bearing this!"
+
+Great jets of blood poured over his hands, and the convulsions of the
+figure that he held in his arms shook him, too, from head to foot. As he
+looked frantically round for help, the priest bent over his shoulder and
+put a crucifix to the lips of the dying man.
+
+"In the name of the Father and of the Son----"
+
+The Gadfly raised himself against the doctor's knee, and, with wide-open
+eyes, looked straight upon the crucifix.
+
+Slowly, amid hushed and frozen stillness, he lifted the broken right
+hand and pushed away the image. There was a red smear across its face.
+
+"Padre--is your--God--satisfied?"
+
+His head fell back on the doctor's arm.
+
+    *****
+
+"Your Eminence!"
+
+As the Cardinal did not awake from his stupor, Colonel Ferrari repeated,
+louder:
+
+"Your Eminence!"
+
+Montanelli looked up.
+
+"He is dead."
+
+"Quite dead, your Eminence. Will you not come away? This is a horrible
+sight."
+
+"He is dead," Montanelli repeated, and looked down again at the face. "I
+touched him; and he is dead."
+
+"What does he expect a man to be with half a dozen bullets in him?" the
+lieutenant whispered contemptuously; and the doctor whispered back. "I
+think the sight of the blood has upset him."
+
+The Governor put his hand firmly on Montanelli's arm.
+
+"Your Eminence--you had better not look at him any longer. Will you
+allow the chaplain to escort you home?"
+
+"Yes--I will go."
+
+He turned slowly from the blood-stained spot and walked away, the priest
+and sergeant following. At the gate he paused and looked back, with a
+ghostlike, still surprise.
+
+"He is dead."
+
+    *****
+
+A few hours later Marcone went up to a cottage on the hillside to tell
+Martini that there was no longer any need for him to throw away his
+life.
+
+All the preparations for a second attempt at rescue were ready, as the
+plot was much more simple than the former one. It had been arranged that
+on the following morning, as the Corpus Domini procession passed along
+the fortress hill, Martini should step forward out of the crowd, draw a
+pistol from his breast, and fire in the Governor's face. In the moment
+of wild confusion which would follow twenty armed men were to make a
+sudden rush at the gate, break into the tower, and, taking the turnkey
+with them by force, to enter the prisoner's cell and carry him bodily
+away, killing or overpowering everyone who interfered with them. From
+the gate they were to retire fighting, and cover the retreat of a second
+band of armed and mounted smugglers, who would carry him off into a safe
+hiding-place in the hills. The only person in the little group who knew
+nothing of the plan was Gemma; it had been kept from her at Martini's
+special desire. "She will break her heart over it soon enough," he had
+said.
+
+As the smuggler came in at the garden gate Martini opened the glass door
+and stepped out on to the verandah to meet him.
+
+"Any news, Marcone? Ah!"
+
+The smuggler had pushed back his broad-brimmed straw hat.
+
+They sat down together on the verandah. Not a word was spoken on either
+side. From the instant when Martini had caught sight of the face under
+the hat-brim he had understood.
+
+"When was it?" he asked after a long pause; and his own voice, in his
+ears, was as dull and wearisome as everything else.
+
+"This morning, at sunrise. The sergeant told me. He was there and saw
+it."
+
+Martini looked down and flicked a stray thread from his coat-sleeve.
+
+Vanity of vanities; this also is vanity. He was to have died to-morrow.
+And now the land of his heart's desire had vanished, like the fairyland
+of golden sunset dreams that fades away when the darkness comes; and he
+was driven back into the world of every day and every night--the
+world of Grassini and Galli, of ciphering and pamphleteering, of party
+squabbles between comrades and dreary intrigues among Austrian spies--of
+the old revolutionary mill-round that maketh the heart sick. And
+somewhere down at the bottom of his consciousness there was a great
+empty place; a place that nothing and no one would fill any more, now
+that the Gadfly was dead.
+
+Someone was asking him a question, and he raised his head, wondering
+what could be left that was worth the trouble of talking about.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I was saying that of course you will break the news to her."
+
+Life, and all the horror of life, came back into Martini's face.
+
+"How can I tell her?" he cried out. "You might as well ask me to go and
+stab her. Oh, how can I tell her--how can I!"
+
+He had clasped both hands over his eyes; but, without seeing, he felt
+the smuggler start beside him, and looked up. Gemma was standing in the
+doorway.
+
+"Have you heard, Cesare?" she said. "It is all over. They have shot
+him."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+"INTROIBO ad altare Dei." Montanelli stood before the high altar among
+his ministers and acolytes and read the Introit aloud in steady tones.
+All the Cathedral was a blaze of light and colour; from the holiday
+dresses of the congregation to the pillars with their flaming draperies
+and wreaths of flowers there was no dull spot in it. Over the open
+spaces of the doorway fell great scarlet curtains, through whose folds
+the hot June sunlight glowed, as through the petals of red poppies in
+a corn-field. The religious orders with their candles and torches, the
+companies of the parishes with their crosses and flags, lighted up the
+dim side-chapels; and in the aisles the silken folds of the processional
+banners drooped, their gilded staves and tassels glinting under the
+arches. The surplices of the choristers gleamed, rainbow-tinted, beneath
+the coloured windows; the sunlight lay on the chancel floor in
+chequered stains of orange and purple and green. Behind the altar hung
+a shimmering veil of silver tissue; and against the veil and the
+decorations and the altar-lights the Cardinal's figure stood out in its
+trailing white robes like a marble statue that had come to life.
+
+As was customary on processional days, he was only to preside at the
+Mass, not to celebrate, so at the end of the Indulgentiam he turned
+from the altar and walked slowly to the episcopal throne, celebrant and
+ministers bowing low as he passed.
+
+"I'm afraid His Eminence is not well," one of the canons whispered to
+his neighbour; "he seems so strange."
+
+Montanelli bent his head to receive the jewelled mitre. The priest who
+was acting as deacon of honour put it on, looked at him for an instant,
+then leaned forward and whispered softly:
+
+"Your Eminence, are you ill?"
+
+Montanelli turned slightly towards him. There was no recognition in his
+eyes.
+
+"Pardon, Your Eminence!" the priest whispered, as he made a genuflexion
+and went back to his place, reproaching himself for having interrupted
+the Cardinal's devotions.
+
+The familiar ceremony went on; and Montanelli sat erect and still, his
+glittering mitre and gold-brocaded vestments flashing back the sunlight,
+and the heavy folds of his white festival mantle sweeping down over the
+red carpet. The light of a hundred candles sparkled among the sapphires
+on his breast, and shone into the deep, still eyes that had no answering
+gleam; and when, at the words: "Benedicite, pater eminentissime,"
+he stooped to bless the incense, and the sunbeams played among the
+diamonds, he might have recalled some splendid and fearful ice-spirit
+of the mountains, crowned with rainbows and robed in drifted snow,
+scattering, with extended hands, a shower of blessings or of curses.
+
+At the elevation of the Host he descended from his throne and knelt
+before the altar. There was a strange, still evenness about all his
+movements; and as he rose and went back to his place the major of
+dragoons, who was sitting in gala uniform behind the Governor, whispered
+to the wounded captain: "The old Cardinal's breaking, not a doubt of it.
+He goes through his work like a machine."
+
+"So much the better!" the captain whispered back. "He's been nothing but
+a mill-stone round all our necks ever since that confounded amnesty."
+
+"He did give in, though, about the court-martial."
+
+"Yes, at last; but he was a precious time making up his mind to.
+Heavens, how close it is! We shall all get sun-stroke in the procession.
+It's a pity we're not Cardinals, to have a canopy held over our heads
+all the way---- Sh-sh-sh! There's my uncle looking at us!"
+
+Colonel Ferrari had turned round to glance severely at the two younger
+officers. After the solemn event of yesterday morning he was in a devout
+and serious frame of mind, and inclined to reproach them with a want of
+proper feeling about what he regarded as "a painful necessity of state."
+
+The masters of the ceremonies began to assemble and place in order those
+who were to take part in the procession. Colonel Ferrari rose from his
+place and moved up to the chancel-rail, beckoning to the other officers
+to accompany him. When the Mass was finished, and the Host had been
+placed behind the crystal shield in the processional sun, the celebrant
+and his ministers retired to the sacristy to change their vestments, and
+a little buzz of whispered conversation broke out through the church.
+Montanelli remained seated on his throne, looking straight before him,
+immovably. All the sea of human life and motion seemed to surge around
+and below him, and to die away into stillness about his feet. A censer
+was brought to him; and he raised his hand with the action of an
+automaton, and put the incense into the vessel, looking neither to the
+right nor to the left.
+
+The clergy had come back from the sacristy, and were waiting in the
+chancel for him to descend; but he remained utterly motionless. The
+deacon of honour, bending forward to take off the mitre, whispered
+again, hesitatingly:
+
+"Your Eminence!"
+
+The Cardinal looked round.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"Are you quite sure the procession will not be too much for you? The sun
+is very hot."
+
+"What does the sun matter?"
+
+Montanelli spoke in a cold, measured voice, and the priest again fancied
+that he must have given offence.
+
+"Forgive me, Your Eminence. I thought you seemed unwell."
+
+Montanelli rose without answering. He paused a moment on the upper step
+of the throne, and asked in the same measured way:
+
+"What is that?"
+
+The long train of his mantle swept down over the steps and lay spread
+out on the chancel-floor, and he was pointing to a fiery stain on the
+white satin.
+
+"It's only the sunlight shining through a coloured window, Your
+Eminence."
+
+"The sunlight? Is it so red?"
+
+He descended the steps, and knelt before the altar, swinging the censer
+slowly to and fro. As he handed it back, the chequered sunlight fell on
+his bared head and wide, uplifted eyes, and cast a crimson glow across
+the white veil that his ministers were folding round him.
+
+He took from the deacon the sacred golden sun; and stood up, as choir
+and organ burst into a peal of triumphal melody.
+
+
+       "Pange, lingua, g]oriosi
+        Corporis mysterium,
+        Sanguinisque pretiosi
+        Quem in mundi pretium,
+        Fructus ventris generosi
+        Rex effudit gentium."
+
+
+The bearers came slowly forward, and raised the silken canopy over his
+head, while the deacons of honour stepped to their places at his right
+and left and drew back the long folds of the mantle. As the acolytes
+stooped to lift his robe from the chancel-floor, the lay fraternities
+heading the procession started to pace down the nave in stately double
+file, with lighted candles held to left and right.
+
+He stood above them, by the altar, motionless under the white canopy,
+holding the Eucharist aloft with steady hands, and watched them as they
+passed. Two by two, with candles and banners and torches, with crosses
+and images and flags, they swept slowly down the chancel steps, along
+the broad nave between the garlanded pillars, and out under the lifted
+scarlet curtains into the blazing sunlight of the street; and the sound
+of their chanting died into a rolling murmur, drowned in the pealing
+of new and newer voices, as the unending stream flowed on, and yet new
+footsteps echoed down the nave.
+
+The companies of the parishes passed, with their white shrouds and
+veiled faces; then the brothers of the Misericordia, black from head to
+foot, their eyes faintly gleaming through the holes in their masks. Next
+came the monks in solemn row: the mendicant friars, with their dusky
+cowls and bare, brown feet; the white-robed, grave Dominicans. Then
+followed the lay officials of the district; dragoons and carabineers
+and the local police-officials; the Governor in gala uniform, with his
+brother officers beside him. A deacon followed, holding up a great cross
+between two acolytes with gleaming candles; and as the curtains were
+lifted high to let them pass out at the doorway, Montanelli caught a
+momentary glimpse, from where he stood under the canopy, of the sunlit
+blaze of carpeted street and flag-hung walls and white-robed children
+scattering roses. Ah, the roses; how red they were!
+
+On and on the procession paced in order; form succeeding to form and
+colour to colour. Long white surplices, grave and seemly, gave place
+to gorgeous vestments and embroidered pluvials. Now passed a tall and
+slender golden cross, borne high above the lighted candles; now the
+cathedral canons, stately in their dead white mantles. A chaplain paced
+down the chancel, with the crozier between two flaring torches; then the
+acolytes moved forward in step, their censers swinging to the rhythm of
+the music; the bearers raised the canopy higher, counting their steps:
+"One, two; one, two!" and Montanelli started upon the Way of the Cross.
+
+Down the chancel steps and all along the nave he passed; under the
+gallery where the organ pealed and thundered; under the lifted curtains
+that were so red--so fearfully red; and out into the glaring street,
+where the blood-red roses lay and withered, crushed into the red carpet
+by the passing of many feet. A moment's pause at the door, while the
+lay officials came forward to replace the canopy-bearers; then the
+procession moved on again, and he with it, his hands clasping the
+Eucharistic sun, and the voices of the choristers swelling and dying
+around him, with the rhythmical swaying of censers and the rolling tramp
+of feet.
+
+
+       "Verbum caro, panem verum,
+        Verbo carnem efficit;
+        Sitque sanguis Christi merum----"
+
+
+Always blood and always blood! The carpet stretched before him like a
+red river; the roses lay like blood splashed on the stones---- Oh, God!
+Is all Thine earth grown red, and all Thy heaven? Ah, what is it to
+Thee, Thou mighty God----Thou, whose very lips are smeared with blood!
+
+
+       "Tantum ergo Sacramentum,
+        Veneremur cernui."
+
+
+He looked through the crystal shield at the Eucharist. What was that
+oozing from the wafer--dripping down between the points of the golden
+sun--down on to his white robe? What had he seen dripping down--dripping
+from a lifted hand?
+
+The grass in the courtyard was trampled and red,--all red,--there was
+so much blood. It was trickling down the cheek, and dripping from the
+pierced right hand, and gushing in a hot red torrent from the wounded
+side. Even a lock of the hair was dabbled in it,--the hair that lay all
+wet and matted on the forehead--ah, that was the death-sweat; it came
+from the horrible pain.
+
+The voices of the choristers rose higher, triumphantly:
+
+
+       "Genitori, genitoque,
+        Laus et jubilatio,
+        Salus, honor, virtus quoque,
+        Sit et benedictio."
+
+
+Oh, that is more than any patience can endure! God, Who sittest on the
+brazen heavens enthroned, and smilest with bloody lips, looking down
+upon agony and death, is it not enough? Is it not enough, without this
+mockery of praise and blessing? Body of Christ, Thou that wast broken
+for the salvation of men; blood of Christ, Thou that wast shed for the
+remission of sins; is it not enough?
+
+"Ah, call Him louder; perchance He sleepeth!
+
+"Dost Thou sleep indeed, dear love; and wilt Thou never wake again? Is
+the grave so jealous of its victory; and will the black pit under the
+tree not loose Thee even for a little, heart's delight?"
+
+Then the Thing behind the crystal shield made answer, and the blood
+dripped down as It spoke:
+
+"Hast thou chosen, and wilt repent of thy choice? Is thy desire not
+fulfilled? Look upon these men that walk in the light and are clad in
+silk and in gold: for their sake was I laid in the black pit. Look upon
+the children scattering roses, and hearken to their singing if it be
+sweet: for their sake is my mouth filled with dust, and the roses are
+red from the well-springs of my heart. See where the people kneel to
+drink the blood that drips from thy garment-hem: for their sake was it
+shed, to quench their ravening thirst. For it is written: 'Greater love
+hath no man than this, if a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
+
+"Oh, Arthur, Arthur; there is greater love than this! If a man lay down
+the life of his best beloved, is not that greater?"
+
+And It answered again:
+
+"Who is thy best beloved? In sooth, not I."
+
+And when he would have spoken the words froze on his tongue, for the
+singing of the choristers passed over them, as the north wind over icy
+pools, and hushed them into silence:
+
+
+     "Dedit fragilibus corporis ferculum,
+      Dedit et tristibus sanguinis poculum,
+      Dicens: Accipite, quod trado vasculum
+              Omnes ex eo bibite."
+
+
+Drink of it, Christians; drink of it, all of you! Is it not yours? For
+you the red stream stains the grass; for you the living flesh is seared
+and torn. Eat of it, cannibals; eat of it, all of you! This is your
+feast and your orgy; this is the day of your joy! Haste you and come to
+the festival; join the procession and march with us; women and children,
+young men and old men--come to the sharing of flesh! Come to the pouring
+of blood-wine and drink of it while it is red; take and eat of the
+Body----
+
+Ah, God; the fortress! Sullen and brown, with crumbling battlements
+and towers dark among the barren hills, it scowled on the procession
+sweeping past in the dusty road below. The iron teeth of the portcullis
+were drawn down over the mouth of the gate; and as a beast crouched
+on the mountain-side, the fortress guarded its prey. Yet, be the teeth
+clenched never so fast, they shall be broken and riven asunder; and the
+grave in the courtyard within shall yield up her dead. For the Christian
+hosts are marching, marching in mighty procession to their sacramental
+feast of blood, as marches an army of famished rats to the gleaning; and
+their cry is: "Give! Give!" and they say not: "It is enough."
+
+"Wilt thou not be satisfied? For these men was I sacrificed; thou hast
+destroyed me that they might live; and behold, they march everyone on
+his ways, and they shall not break their ranks.
+
+"This is the army of Christians, the followers of thy God; a great
+people and a strong. A fire devoureth before them, and behind them a
+flame burneth; the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind
+them a desolate wilderness; yea, and nothing shall escape them."
+
+"Oh, yet come back, come back to me, beloved; for I repent me of my
+choice! Come back, and we will creep away together, to some dark and
+silent grave where the devouring army shall not find us; and we will lay
+us down there, locked in one another's arms, and sleep, and sleep, and
+sleep. And the hungry Christians shall pass by in the merciless daylight
+above our heads; and when they howl for blood to drink and for flesh to
+eat, their cry shall be faint in our ears; and they shall pass on their
+ways and leave us to our rest."
+
+And It answered yet again:
+
+"Where shall I hide me? Is it not written: 'They shall run to and fro
+in the city; they shall run upon the wall; they shall climb up upon the
+houses; they shall enter in at the windows like a thief?' If I build me
+a tomb on the mountain-top, shall they not break it open? If I dig me a
+grave in the river-bed, shall they not tear it up? Verily, they are keen
+as blood-hounds to seek out their prey; and for them are my wounds red,
+that they may drink. Canst thou not hear them, what they sing?"
+
+And they sang, as they went in between the scarlet curtains of the
+Cathedral door; for the procession was over, and all the roses were
+strewn:
+
+
+       "Ave, verum Corpus, natum
+        De Maria Virgine:
+        Vere passum, immolatum
+        In cruce pro homine!
+        Cujus latus perforatum
+        Undam fluxit cum sanguinae;
+        Esto nobis praegustatum
+        Mortis in examinae."
+
+
+And when they had left off singing, he entered at the doorway, and
+passed between the silent rows of monks and priests, where they knelt,
+each man in his place, with the lighted candles uplifted. And he saw
+their hungry eyes fixed on the sacred Body that he bore; and he knew why
+they bowed their heads as he passed. For the dark stream ran down the
+folds of his white vestments; and on the stones of the Cathedral floor
+his footsteps left a deep, red stain.
+
+So he passed up the nave to the chancel rails; and there the bearers
+paused, and he went out from under the canopy and up to the altar steps.
+To left and right the white-robed acolytes knelt with their censers and
+the chaplains with their torches; and their eyes shone greedily in the
+flaring light as they watched the Body of the Victim.
+
+And as he stood before the altar, holding aloft with blood-stained hands
+the torn and mangled body of his murdered love, the voices of the guests
+bidden to the Eucharistic feast rang out in another peal of song:
+
+
+       "Oh salutaris Hostia,
+        Quae coeli pandis ostium;
+        Bella praemunt hostilia,
+        Da robur, fer, auxilium!"
+
+
+Ah, and now they come to take the Body----Go then, dear heart, to thy
+bitter doom, and open the gates of heaven for these ravening wolves that
+will not be denied. The gates that are opened for me are the gates of
+the nethermost hell.
+
+And as the deacon of honour placed the sacred vessel on the altar,
+Montanelli sank down where he had stood, and knelt upon the step; and
+from the white altar above him the blood flowed down and dripped upon
+his head. And the voices of the singers rang on, pealing under the
+arches and echoing along the vaulted roof:
+
+
+       "Uni trinoque Domino
+        Sit sempiterna gloria:
+        Qui vitam sine termino
+        Nobis donet in patria."
+
+
+"Sine termino--sine termino!" Oh, happy Jesus, Who could sink beneath
+His cross! Oh, happy Jesus, Who could say: "It is finished!" This doom
+is never ended; it is eternal as the stars in their courses. This is the
+worm that dieth not and the fire that is not quenched. "Sine termino,
+sine termino!"
+
+Wearily, patiently, he went through his part in the remaining
+ceremonies, fulfilling mechanically, from old habit, the rites that had
+no longer any meaning for him. Then, after the benediction, he knelt
+down again before the altar and covered his face; and the voice of the
+priest reading aloud the list of indulgences swelled and sank like a
+far-off murmur from a world to which he belonged no more.
+
+The voice broke off, and he stood up and stretched out his hand for
+silence. Some of the congregation were moving towards the doors; and
+they turned back with a hurried rustle and murmur, as a whisper went
+through the Cathedral:
+
+"His Eminence is going to speak."
+
+His ministers, startled and wondering, drew closer to him and one of
+them whispered hastily: "Your Eminence, do you intend to speak to the
+people now?"
+
+Montanelli silently waved him aside. The priests drew back, whispering
+together; the thing was unusual, even irregular; but it was within
+the Cardinal's prerogative if he chose to do it. No doubt, he had some
+statement of exceptional importance to make; some new reform from Rome
+to announce or a special communication from the Holy Father.
+
+Montanelli looked down from the altar-steps upon the sea of upturned
+faces. Full of eager expectancy they looked up at him as he stood above
+them, spectral and still and white.
+
+"Sh-sh! Silence!" the leaders of the procession called softly; and the
+murmuring of the congregation died into stillness, as a gust of wind
+dies among whispering tree-tops. All the crowd gazed up, in breathless
+silence, at the white figure on the altar-steps. Slowly and steadily he
+began to speak:
+
+"It is written in the Gospel according to St. John: 'God so loved the
+world, that He gave His only begotten Son that the world through Him
+might be saved.'
+
+"This is the festival of the Body and Blood of the Victim who was slain
+for your salvation; the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the
+world; the Son of God, Who died for your transgressions. And you are
+assembled here in solemn festival array, to eat of the sacrifice that
+was given for you, and to render thanks for this great mercy. And I know
+that this morning, when you came to share in the banquet, to eat of the
+Body of the Victim, your hearts were filled with joy, as you remembered
+the Passion of God the Son, Who died, that you might be saved.
+
+"But tell me, which among you has thought of that other Passion--of the
+Passion of God the Father, Who gave His Son to be crucified? Which of
+you has remembered the agony of God the Father, when He bent from His
+throne in the heavens above, and looked down upon Calvary?
+
+"I have watched you to-day, my people, as you walked in your ranks in
+solemn procession; and I have seen that your hearts are glad within you
+for the remission of your sins, and that you rejoice in your salvation.
+Yet I pray you that you consider at what price that salvation was
+bought. Surely it is very precious, and the price of it is above rubies;
+it is the price of blood."
+
+A faint, long shudder passed through the listening crowd. In the chancel
+the priests bent forward and whispered to one another; but the preacher
+went on speaking, and they held their peace.
+
+"Therefore it is that I speak with you this day: I AM THAT I AM. For I
+looked upon your weakness and your sorrow, and upon the little children
+about your feet; and my heart was moved to compassion for their sake,
+that they must die. Then I looked into my dear son's eyes; and I knew
+that the Atonement of Blood was there. And I went my way, and left him
+to his doom.
+
+"This is the remission of sins. He died for you, and the darkness has
+swallowed him up; he is dead, and there is no resurrection; he is dead,
+and I have no son. Oh, my boy, my boy!"
+
+The Cardinal's voice broke in a long, wailing cry; and the voices of the
+terrified people answered it like an echo. All the clergy had risen from
+their places, and the deacons of honour started forward to lay their
+hands on the preacher's arm. But he wrenched it away, and faced them
+suddenly, with the eyes of an angry wild beast.
+
+"What is this? Is there not blood enough? Wait your turn, jackals; you
+shall all be fed!"
+
+They shrank away and huddled shivering together, their panting
+breath thick and loud, their faces white with the whiteness of chalk.
+Montanelli turned again to the people, and they swayed and shook before
+him, as a field of corn before a hurricane.
+
+"You have killed him! You have killed him! And I suffered it, because I
+would not let you die. And now, when you come about me with your lying
+praises and your unclean prayers, I repent me--I repent me that I have
+done this thing! It were better that you all should rot in your vices,
+in the bottomless filth of damnation, and that he should live. What is
+the worth of your plague-spotted souls, that such a price should be paid
+for them? But it is too late--too late! I cry aloud, but he does not
+hear me; I beat at the door of the grave, but he will not wake; I stand
+alone, in desert space, and look around me, from the blood-stained earth
+where the heart of my heart lies buried, to the void and awful heaven
+that is left unto me, desolate. I have given him up; oh, generation of
+vipers, I have given him up for you!
+
+"Take your salvation, since it is yours! I fling it to you as a bone is
+flung to a pack of snarling curs! The price of your banquet is paid for
+you; come, then, and gorge yourselves, cannibals, bloodsuckers--carrion
+beasts that feed on the dead! See where the blood streams down from the
+altar, foaming and hot from my darling's heart--the blood that was shed
+for you! Wallow and lap it and smear yourselves red with it! Snatch and
+fight for the flesh and devour it--and trouble me no more! This is the
+body that was given for you--look at it, torn and bleeding, throbbing
+still with the tortured life, quivering from the bitter death-agony;
+take it, Christians, and eat!"
+
+He had caught up the sun with the Host and lifted it above his head; and
+now flung it crashing down upon the floor. At the ring of the metal on
+stone the clergy rushed forward together, and twenty hands seized the
+madman.
+
+Then, and only then, the silence of the people broke in a wild,
+hysterical scream; and, overturning chairs and benches, beating at the
+doorways, trampling one upon another, tearing down curtains and garlands
+in their haste, the surging, sobbing human flood poured out upon the
+street.
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+"GEMMA, there's a man downstairs who wants to see you." Martini spoke in
+the subdued tone which they had both unconsciously adopted during these
+last ten days. That, and a certain slow evenness of speech and movement,
+were the sole expression which either of them gave to their grief.
+
+Gemma, with bare arms and an apron over her dress, was standing at a
+table, putting up little packages of cartridges for distribution. She
+had stood over the work since early morning; and now, in the glaring
+afternoon, her face looked haggard with fatigue.
+
+"A man, Cesare? What does he want?"
+
+"I don't know, dear. He wouldn't tell me. He said he must speak to you
+alone."
+
+"Very well." She took off her apron and pulled down the sleeves of her
+dress. "I must go to him, I suppose; but very likely it's only a spy."
+
+"In any case, I shall be in the next room, within call. As soon as
+you get rid of him you had better go and lie down a bit. You have been
+standing too long to-day."
+
+"Oh, no! I would rather go on working."
+
+She went slowly down the stairs, Martini following in silence. She had
+grown to look ten years older in these few days, and the gray streak
+across her hair had widened into a broad band. She mostly kept her eyes
+lowered now; but when, by chance, she raised them, he shivered at the
+horror in their shadows.
+
+In the little parlour she found a clumsy-looking man standing with his
+heels together in the middle of the floor. His whole figure and the
+half-frightened way he looked up when she came in, suggested to her that
+he must be one of the Swiss guards. He wore a countryman's blouse,
+which evidently did not belong to him, and kept glancing round as though
+afraid of detection.
+
+"Can you speak German?" he asked in the heavy Zurich patois.
+
+"A little. I hear you want to see me."
+
+"You are Signora Bolla? I've brought you a letter."
+
+"A--letter?" She was beginning to tremble, and rested one hand on the
+table to steady herself.
+
+"I'm one of the guard over there." He pointed out of the window to the
+fortress on the hill. "It's from--the man that was shot last week. He
+wrote it the night before. I promised him I'd give it into your own hand
+myself."
+
+She bent her head down. So he had written after all.
+
+"That's why I've been so long bringing it," the soldier went on. "He
+said I was not to give it to anyone but you, and I couldn't get off
+before--they watched me so. I had to borrow these things to come in."
+
+He was fumbling in the breast of his blouse. The weather was hot, and
+the sheet of folded paper that he pulled out was not only dirty and
+crumpled, but damp. He stood for a moment shuffling his feet uneasily;
+then put up one hand and scratched the back of his head.
+
+"You won't say anything," he began again timidly, with a distrustful
+glance at her. "It's as much as my life's worth to have come here."
+
+"Of course I shall not say anything. No, wait a minute----"
+
+As he turned to go, she stopped him, feeling for her purse; but he drew
+back, offended.
+
+"I don't want your money," he said roughly. "I did it for him--because
+he asked me to. I'd have done more than that for him. He'd been good to
+me--God help me!"
+
+The little catch in his voice made her look up. He was slowly rubbing a
+grimy sleeve across his eyes.
+
+"We had to shoot," he went on under his breath; "my mates and I. A man
+must obey orders. We bungled it, and had to fire again--and he laughed
+at us--he called us the awkward squad--and he'd been good to me----"
+
+There was silence in the room. A moment later he straightened himself
+up, made a clumsy military salute, and went away.
+
+She stood still for a little while with the paper in her hand; then
+sat down by the open window to read. The letter was closely written in
+pencil, and in some parts hardly legible. But the first two words stood
+out quite clear upon the page; and they were in English:
+
+"Dear Jim."
+
+The writing grew suddenly blurred and misty. And she had lost him
+again--had lost him again! At the sight of the familiar childish
+nickname all the hopelessness of her bereavement came over her afresh,
+and she put out her hands in blind desperation, as though the weight of
+the earth-clods that lay above him were pressing on her heart.
+
+Presently she took up the paper again and went on reading:
+
+
+"I am to be shot at sunrise to-morrow. So if I am to keep at all my
+promise to tell you everything, I must keep it now. But, after all,
+there is not much need of explanations between you and me. We always
+understood each other without many words, even when we were little
+things.
+
+"And so, you see, my dear, you had no need to break your heart over
+that old story of the blow. It was a hard hit, of course; but I have had
+plenty of others as hard, and yet I have managed to get over them,--even
+to pay back a few of them,--and here I am still, like the mackerel in
+our nursery-book (I forget its name), 'Alive and kicking, oh!' This
+is my last kick, though; and then, to-morrow morning, and--'Finita la
+Commedia!' You and I will translate that: 'The variety show is over';
+and will give thanks to the gods that they have had, at least, so much
+mercy on us. It is not much, but it is something; and for this and all
+other blessings may we be truly thankful!
+
+"About that same to-morrow morning, I want both you and Martini to
+understand clearly that I am quite happy and satisfied, and could ask no
+better thing of Fate. Tell that to Martini as a message from me; he is a
+good fellow and a good comrade, and he will understand. You see, dear,
+I know that the stick-in-the-mud people are doing us a good turn and
+themselves a bad one by going back to secret trials and executions so
+soon, and I know that if you who are left stand together steadily and
+hit hard, you will see great things. As for me, I shall go out into
+the courtyard with as light a heart as any child starting home for the
+holidays. I have done my share of the work, and this death-sentence is
+the proof that I have done it thoroughly. They kill me because they are
+afraid of me; and what more can any man's heart desire?
+
+"It desires just one thing more, though. A man who is going to die has
+a right to a personal fancy, and mine is that you should see why I have
+always been such a sulky brute to you, and so slow to forget old scores.
+Of course, though, you understand why, and I tell you only for the
+pleasure of writing the words. I loved you, Gemma, when you were an ugly
+little girl in a gingham frock, with a scratchy tucker and your hair in
+a pig-tail down your back; and I love you still. Do you remember that
+day when I kissed your hand, and when you so piteously begged me 'never
+to do that again'? It was a scoundrelly trick to play, I know; but you
+must forgive that; and now I kiss the paper where I have written your
+name. So I have kissed you twice, and both times without your consent.
+
+"That is all. Good-bye, my dear."
+
+
+There was no signature, but a verse which they had learned together as
+children was written under the letter:
+
+
+                "Then am I
+                 A happy fly,
+                 If I live
+                 Or if I die."
+
+    *****
+
+Half an hour later Martini entered the room, and, startled out of the
+silence of half a life-time, threw down the placard he was carrying and
+flung his arms about her.
+
+"Gemma! What is it, for God's sake? Don't sob like that--you that never
+cry! Gemma! Gemma, my darling!"
+
+"Nothing, Cesare; I will tell you afterwards--I--can't talk about it
+just now."
+
+She hurriedly slipped the tear-stained letter into her pocket; and,
+rising, leaned out of the window to hide her face. Martini held his
+tongue and bit his moustache. After all these years he had betrayed
+himself like a schoolboy--and she had not even noticed it!
+
+"The Cathedral bell is tolling," she said after a little while, looking
+round with recovered self-command. "Someone must be dead."
+
+"That is what I came to show you," Martini answered in his everyday
+voice. He picked up the placard from the floor and handed it to her.
+Hastily printed in large type was a black-bordered announcement that:
+"Our dearly beloved Bishop, His Eminence the Cardinal, Monsignor Lorenzo
+Montanelli," had died suddenly at Ravenna, "from the rupture of an
+aneurism of the heart."
+
+She glanced up quickly from the paper, and Martini answered the unspoken
+suggestion in her eyes with a shrug of his shoulders.
+
+"What would you have, Madonna? Aneurism is as good a word as any other."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gadfly, by E. L. Voynich
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+Title:  The Gadfly
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+Author:  E. L. Voynich
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+
+
+
+
+THE GADFLY
+
+by E. L. VOYNICH
+
+
+
+
+"What have we to do with Thee, Thou Jesus of Nazareth?"
+
+
+
+AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
+
+
+MY most cordial thanks are due to the many
+persons who helped me to collect, in Italy, the
+materials for this story. I am especially indebted
+to the officials of the Marucelliana Library of
+Florence, and of the State Archives and Civic
+Museum of Bologna, for their courtesy and
+kindness.
+
+
+
+
+
+THE GADFLY
+
+
+
+
+PART I.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+Arthur sat in the library of the theological
+seminary at Pisa, looking through a pile of manuscript
+sermons. It was a hot evening in June, and
+the windows stood wide open, with the shutters
+half closed for coolness. The Father Director,
+Canon Montanelli, paused a moment in his writing
+to glance lovingly at the black head bent over
+the papers.
+
+"Can't you find it, carino? Never mind; I
+must rewrite the passage. Possibly it has got
+torn up, and I have kept you all this time for
+nothing."
+
+Montanelli's voice was rather low, but full and
+resonant, with a silvery purity of tone that gave to
+his speech a peculiar charm. It was the voice of a
+born orator, rich in possible modulations. When
+he spoke to Arthur its note was always that of a
+caress.
+
+"No, Padre, I must find it; I'm sure you put
+it here. You will never make it the same by
+rewriting."
+
+Montanelli went on with his work. A sleepy
+cockchafer hummed drowsily outside the window,
+and the long, melancholy call of a fruitseller echoed
+down the street: "Fragola! fragola!"
+
+"'On the Healing of the Leper'; here it is."
+Arthur came across the room with the velvet tread
+that always exasperated the good folk at home.
+He was a slender little creature, more like an Italian
+in a sixteenth-century portrait than a middle-class
+English lad of the thirties. From the long
+eyebrows and sensitive mouth to the small hands
+and feet, everything about him was too much
+chiseled, overdelicate. Sitting still, he might
+have been taken for a very pretty girl masquerading
+in male attire; but when he moved, his lithe
+agility suggested a tame panther without the
+claws.
+
+"Is that really it? What should I do
+without you, Arthur? I should always be losing
+my things. No, I am not going to write any
+more now. Come out into the garden, and I will
+help you with your work. What is the bit you
+couldn't understand?"
+
+They went out into the still, shadowy cloister
+garden. The seminary occupied the buildings of
+an old Dominican monastery, and two hundred
+years ago the square courtyard had been stiff and
+trim, and the rosemary and lavender had grown in
+close-cut bushes between the straight box edgings.
+Now the white-robed monks who had tended
+them were laid away and forgotten; but the
+scented herbs flowered still in the gracious mid-summer
+evening, though no man gathered their
+blossoms for simples any more. Tufts of wild
+parsley and columbine filled the cracks between
+the flagged footways, and the well in the middle
+of the courtyard was given up to ferns and matted
+stone-crop. The roses had run wild, and their
+straggling suckers trailed across the paths; in the
+box borders flared great red poppies; tall foxgloves
+drooped above the tangled grasses; and the
+old vine, untrained and barren of fruit, swayed
+from the branches of the neglected medlar-tree,
+shaking a leafy head with slow and sad persistence.
+
+In one corner stood a huge summer-flowering
+magnolia, a tower of dark foliage, splashed
+here and there with milk-white blossoms. A
+rough wooden bench had been placed against the
+trunk; and on this Montanelli sat down. Arthur
+was studying philosophy at the university; and,
+coming to a difficulty with a book, had applied to
+"the Padre" for an explanation of the point.
+Montanelli was a universal encyclopaedia to him,
+though he had never been a pupil of the seminary.
+
+"I had better go now," he said when the passage
+had been cleared up; "unless you want me for
+anything."
+
+"I don't want to work any more, but I should
+like you to stay a bit if you have time."
+
+"Oh, yes!" He leaned back against the tree-trunk
+and looked up through the dusky branches
+at the first faint stars glimmering in a quiet sky.
+The dreamy, mystical eyes, deep blue under black
+lashes, were an inheritance from his Cornish
+mother, and Montanelli turned his head away, that
+he might not see them.
+
+"You are looking tired, carino," he said.
+
+"I can't help it." There was a weary sound
+in Arthur's voice, and the Padre noticed it at
+once.
+
+"You should not have gone up to college so
+soon; you were tired out with sick-nursing and
+being up at night. I ought to have insisted on
+your taking a thorough rest before you left
+Leghorn."
+
+"Oh, Padre, what's the use of that? I couldn't
+stop in that miserable house after mother died.
+Julia would have driven me mad!"
+
+Julia was his eldest step-brother's wife, and a
+thorn in his side.
+
+"I should not have wished you to stay with your
+relatives," Montanelli answered gently. "I am
+sure it would have been the worst possible thing
+for you. But I wish you could have accepted the
+invitation of your English doctor friend; if you had
+spent a month in his house you would have been
+more fit to study."
+
+"No, Padre, I shouldn't indeed! The Warrens
+are very good and kind, but they don't understand;
+and then they are sorry for me,--I can see it in
+all their faces,--and they would try to console me,
+and talk about mother. Gemma wouldn't, of
+course; she always knew what not to say, even
+when we were babies; but the others would.
+And it isn't only that----"
+
+"What is it then, my son?"
+
+Arthur pulled off some blossoms from a drooping
+foxglove stem and crushed them nervously in
+his hand.
+
+"I can't bear the town," he began after a moment's
+pause. "There are the shops where she
+used to buy me toys when I was a little thing, and
+the walk along the shore where I used to take her
+until she got too ill. Wherever I go it's the same
+thing; every market-girl comes up to me with
+bunches of flowers--as if I wanted them now!
+And there's the church-yard--I had to get away;
+it made me sick to see the place----"
+
+He broke off and sat tearing the foxglove bells
+to pieces. The silence was so long and deep that
+he looked up, wondering why the Padre did not
+speak. It was growing dark under the branches
+of the magnolia, and everything seemed dim and
+indistinct; but there was light enough to show the
+ghastly paleness of Montanelli's face. He was
+bending his head down, his right hand tightly
+clenched upon the edge of the bench. Arthur
+looked away with a sense of awe-struck wonder.
+It was as though he had stepped unwittingly on to
+holy ground.
+
+"My God!" he thought; "how small and selfish
+I am beside him! If my trouble were his own he
+couldn't feel it more."
+
+Presently Montanelli raised his head and looked
+round. "I won't press you to go back there; at
+all events, just now," he said in his most caressing
+tone; "but you must promise me to take a
+thorough rest when your vacation begins this
+summer. I think you had better get a holiday
+right away from the neighborhood of Leghorn. I
+can't have you breaking down in health."
+
+"Where shall you go when the seminary closes,
+Padre?"
+
+"I shall have to take the pupils into the hills,
+as usual, and see them settled there. But by the
+middle of August the subdirector will be back
+from his holiday. I shall try to get up into the
+Alps for a little change. Will you come with me?
+I could take you for some long mountain rambles,
+and you would like to study the Alpine mosses and
+lichens. But perhaps it would be rather dull for
+you alone with me?"
+
+"Padre!" Arthur clasped his hands in what
+Julia called his "demonstrative foreign way." "I
+would give anything on earth to go away with
+you. Only--I am not sure----" He stopped.
+
+"You don't think Mr. Burton would allow
+it?"
+
+"He wouldn't like it, of course, but he could
+hardly interfere. I am eighteen now and can do
+what I choose. After all, he's only my step-brother;
+I don't see that I owe him obedience.
+He was always unkind to mother."
+
+"But if he seriously objects, I think you had
+better not defy his wishes; you may find your
+position at home made much harder if----"
+
+"Not a bit harder!" Arthur broke in passionately.
+"They always did hate me and always
+will--it doesn't matter what I do. Besides, how
+can James seriously object to my going away with
+you--with my father confessor?"
+
+"He is a Protestant, remember. However, you
+had better write to him, and we will wait to hear
+what he thinks. But you must not be impatient,
+my son; it matters just as much what you do,
+whether people hate you or love you."
+
+The rebuke was so gently given that Arthur
+hardly coloured under it. "Yes, I know," he
+answered, sighing; "but it is so difficult----"
+
+"I was sorry you could not come to me on
+Tuesday evening," Montanelli said, abruptly introducing
+a new subject. "The Bishop of Arezzo
+was here, and I should have liked you to meet
+him."
+
+"I had promised one of the students to go to a
+meeting at his lodgings, and they would have been
+expecting me."
+
+"What sort of meeting?"
+
+Arthur seemed embarrassed by the question.
+"It--it was n-not a r-regular meeting," he said
+with a nervous little stammer. "A student had
+come from Genoa, and he made a speech to us--
+a-a sort of--lecture."
+
+"What did he lecture about?"
+
+Arthur hesitated. "You won't ask me his
+name, Padre, will you? Because I promised----"
+
+"I will ask you no questions at all, and if you
+have promised secrecy of course you must not tell
+me; but I think you can almost trust me by this
+time."
+
+"Padre, of course I can. He spoke about--us
+and our duty to the people--and to--our own
+selves; and about--what we might do to
+help----"
+
+"To help whom?"
+
+"The contadini--and----"
+
+"And?"
+
+"Italy."
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+"Tell me, Arthur," said Montanelli, turning to
+him and speaking very gravely, "how long have
+you been thinking about this?"
+
+"Since--last winter."
+
+"Before your mother's death? And did she
+know of it?"
+
+"N-no. I--I didn't care about it then."
+
+"And now you--care about it?"
+
+Arthur pulled another handful of bells off the
+foxglove.
+
+"It was this way, Padre," he began, with his
+eyes on the ground. "When I was preparing for
+the entrance examination last autumn, I got to
+know a good many of the students; you remember?
+Well, some of them began to talk to me
+about--all these things, and lent me books. But
+I didn't care much about it; I always wanted to
+get home quick to mother. You see, she was quite
+alone among them all in that dungeon of a house;
+and Julia's tongue was enough to kill her. Then,
+in the winter, when she got so ill, I forgot all about
+the students and their books; and then, you know,
+I left off coming to Pisa altogether. I should have
+talked to mother if I had thought of it; but it went
+right out of my head. Then I found out that she
+was going to die----You know, I was almost
+constantly with her towards the end; often I would
+sit up the night, and Gemma Warren would come
+in the day to let me get to sleep. Well, it was in
+those long nights; I got thinking about the books
+and about what the students had said--and wondering--
+whether they were right and--what--
+Our Lord would have said about it all."
+
+"Did you ask Him?" Montanelli's voice was
+not quite steady.
+
+"Often, Padre. Sometimes I have prayed to
+Him to tell me what I must do, or to let me die
+with mother. But I couldn't find any answer."
+
+"And you never said a word to me. Arthur, I
+hoped you could have trusted me."
+
+"Padre, you know I trust you! But there are
+some things you can't talk about to anyone. I--it
+seemed to me that no one could help me--not
+even you or mother; I must have my own answer
+straight from God. You see, it is for all my life
+and all my soul."
+
+Montanelli turned away and stared into the
+dusky gloom of the magnolia branches. The
+twilight was so dim that his figure had a shadowy
+look, like a dark ghost among the darker boughs.
+
+"And then?" he asked slowly.
+
+"And then--she died. You know, I had been
+up the last three nights with her----"
+
+He broke off and paused a moment, but Montanelli
+did not move.
+
+"All those two days before they buried her,"
+Arthur went on in a lower voice, "I couldn't think
+about anything. Then, after the funeral, I was ill;
+you remember, I couldn't come to confession."
+
+"Yes; I remember."
+
+"Well, in the night I got up and went into
+mother's room. It was all empty; there was only
+the great crucifix in the alcove. And I thought
+perhaps God would help me. I knelt down
+and waited--all night. And in the morning
+when I came to my senses--Padre, it isn't any use;
+I can't explain. I can't tell you what I saw--I
+hardly know myself. But I know that God has
+answered me, and that I dare not disobey Him."
+
+For a moment they sat quite silent in the darkness.
+Then Montanelli turned and laid his hand
+on Arthur's shoulder.
+
+"My son," he said, "God forbid that I should
+say He has not spoken to your soul. But remember
+your condition when this thing happened, and
+do not take the fancies of grief or illness for His
+solemn call. And if, indeed, it has been His will
+to answer you out of the shadow of death, be sure
+that you put no false construction on His word.
+What is this thing you have it in your heart
+to do?"
+
+Arthur stood up and answered slowly, as though
+repeating a catechism:
+
+"To give up my life to Italy, to help in freeing
+her from all this slavery and wretchedness, and in
+driving out the Austrians, that she may be a
+free republic, with no king but Christ."
+
+"Arthur, think a moment what you are saying!
+You are not even an Italian."
+
+"That makes no difference; I am myself. I
+have seen this thing, and I belong to it."
+
+There was silence again.
+
+"You spoke just now of what Christ would have
+said----" Montanelli began slowly; but Arthur
+interrupted him:
+
+"Christ said: 'He that loseth his life for my
+sake shall find it.'"
+
+Montanelli leaned his arm against a branch, and
+shaded his eyes with one hand.
+
+"Sit down a moment, my son," he said at
+last.
+
+Arthur sat down, and the Padre took both his
+hands in a strong and steady clasp.
+
+"I cannot argue with you to-night," he said;
+"this has come upon me so suddenly--I had not
+thought--I must have time to think it over.
+Later on we will talk more definitely. But, for
+just now, I want you to remember one thing. If
+you get into trouble over this, if you--die, you
+will break my heart."
+
+"Padre----"
+
+"No; let me finish what I have to say. I told
+you once that I have no one in the world but you.
+I think you do not fully understand what that
+means. It is difficult when one is so young; at
+your age I should not have understood. Arthur,
+you are as my--as my--own son to me. Do you
+see? You are the light of my eyes and the desire
+of my heart. I would die to keep you from making
+a false step and ruining your life. But there
+is nothing I can do. I don't ask you to make any
+promises to me; I only ask you to remember this,
+and to be careful. Think well before you take an
+irrevocable step, for my sake, if not for the sake
+of your mother in heaven."
+
+"I will think--and--Padre, pray for me, and for
+Italy."
+
+He knelt down in silence, and in silence Montanelli
+laid his hand on the bent head. A moment
+later Arthur rose, kissed the hand, and went
+softly away across the dewy grass. Montanelli
+sat alone under the magnolia tree, looking straight
+before him into the blackness.
+
+"It is the vengeance of God that has fallen upon
+me," he thought, "as it fell upon David. I, that
+have defiled His sanctuary, and taken the Body of
+the Lord into polluted hands,--He has been very
+patient with me, and now it is come. 'For thou
+didst it secretly, but I will do this thing before all
+Israel, and before the sun; THE CHILD THAT IS BORN
+UNTO THEE SHALL SURELY DIE.'"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+MR. JAMES BURTON did not at all like the idea
+of his young step-brother "careering about Switzerland"
+with Montanelli. But positively to forbid
+a harmless botanizing tour with an elderly professor
+of theology would seem to Arthur, who knew
+nothing of the reason for the prohibition, absurdly
+tyrannical. He would immediately attribute it to
+religious or racial prejudice; and the Burtons
+prided themselves on their enlightened tolerance.
+The whole family had been staunch Protestants
+and Conservatives ever since Burton & Sons, ship-owners,
+of London and Leghorn, had first set up
+in business, more than a century back. But they
+held that English gentlemen must deal fairly, even
+with Papists; and when the head of the house,
+finding it dull to remain a widower, had married
+the pretty Catholic governess of his younger children,
+the two elder sons, James and Thomas, much
+as they resented the presence of a step-mother
+hardly older than themselves, had submitted with
+sulky resignation to the will of Providence. Since
+the father's death the eldest brother's marriage
+had further complicated an already difficult position;
+but both brothers had honestly tried to
+protect Gladys, as long as she lived, from Julia's
+merciless tongue, and to do their duty, as they
+understood it, by Arthur. They did not even pretend
+to like the lad, and their generosity towards
+him showed itself chiefly in providing him with
+lavish supplies of pocket money and allowing him
+to go his own way.
+
+In answer to his letter, accordingly, Arthur received
+a cheque to cover his expenses and a cold
+permission to do as he pleased about his holidays.
+He expended half his spare cash on botanical books
+and pressing-cases, and started off with the Padre
+for his first Alpine ramble.
+
+Montanelli was in lighter spirits than Arthur
+had seen him in for a long while. After the first
+shock of the conversation in the garden he had
+gradually recovered his mental balance, and now
+looked upon the case more calmly. Arthur was
+very young and inexperienced; his decision could
+hardly be, as yet, irrevocable. Surely there was
+still time to win him back by gentle persuasion and
+reasoning from the dangerous path upon which
+he had barely entered.
+
+They had intended to stay a few days at Geneva;
+but at the first sight of the glaring white streets
+and dusty, tourist-crammed promenades, a little
+frown appeared on Arthur's face. Montanelli
+watched him with quiet amusement.
+
+"You don't like it, carino?"
+
+"I hardly know. It's so different from what I
+expected. Yes, the lake is beautiful, and I like the
+shape of those hills." They were standing on
+Rousseau's Island, and he pointed to the long,
+severe outlines of the Savoy side. "But the town
+looks so stiff and tidy, somehow--so Protestant;
+it has a self-satisfied air. No, I don't like it; it
+reminds me of Julia."
+
+Montanelli laughed. "Poor boy, what a misfortune!
+Well, we are here for our own amusement, so there
+is no reason why we should stop. Suppose we take a
+sail on the lake to-day, and go up into the mountains
+to-morrow morning?"
+
+"But, Padre, you wanted to stay here?"
+
+"My dear boy, I have seen all these places a
+dozen times. My holiday is to see your pleasure.
+Where would you like to go?"
+
+"If it is really the same to you, I should like to
+follow the river back to its source."
+
+"The Rhone?"
+
+"No, the Arve; it runs so fast."
+
+"Then we will go to Chamonix."
+
+They spent the afternoon drifting about in a
+little sailing boat. The beautiful lake produced
+far less impression upon Arthur than the gray and
+muddy Arve. He had grown up beside the Mediterranean,
+and was accustomed to blue ripples;
+but he had a positive passion for swiftly moving
+water, and the hurried rushing of the glacier
+stream delighted him beyond measure. "It is so
+much in earnest," he said.
+
+Early on the following morning they started for
+Chamonix. Arthur was in very high spirits while
+driving through the fertile valley country; but
+when they entered upon the winding road near
+Cluses, and the great, jagged hills closed in around
+them, he became serious and silent. From St. Martin
+they walked slowly up the valley, stopping to
+sleep at wayside chalets or tiny mountain villages,
+and wandering on again as their fancy directed.
+Arthur was peculiarly sensitive to the influence of
+scenery, and the first waterfall that they passed
+threw him into an ecstacy which was delightful to
+see; but as they drew nearer to the snow-peaks
+he passed out of this rapturous mood into one of
+dreamy exaltation that Montanelli had not seen
+before. There seemed to be a kind of mystical relationship
+between him and the mountains. He
+would lie for hours motionless in the dark, secret,
+echoing pine-forests, looking out between the
+straight, tall trunks into the sunlit outer world of
+flashing peaks and barren cliffs. Montanelli
+watched him with a kind of sad envy.
+
+"I wish you could show me what you see,
+carino," he said one day as he looked up from his
+book, and saw Arthur stretched beside him on the
+moss in the same attitude as an hour before, gazing
+out with wide, dilated eyes into the glittering
+expanse of blue and white. They had turned aside
+from the high-road to sleep at a quiet village near
+the falls of the Diosaz, and, the sun being already
+low in a cloudless sky, had mounted a point of pine-clad
+rock to wait for the Alpine glow over the
+dome and needles of the Mont Blanc chain. Arthur
+raised his head with eyes full of wonder and
+mystery.
+
+"What I see, Padre? I see a great, white being
+in a blue void that has no beginning and no end.
+I see it waiting, age after age, for the coming of the
+Spirit of God. I see it through a glass darkly."
+
+Montanelli sighed.
+
+"I used to see those things once."
+
+"Do you never see them now?"
+
+"Never. I shall not see them any more. They
+are there, I know; but I have not the eyes to see
+them. I see quite other things."
+
+"What do you see?"
+
+"I, carino? I see a blue sky and a snow-mountain
+--that is all when I look up into the heights.
+But down there it is different."
+
+He pointed to the valley below them. Arthur
+knelt down and bent over the sheer edge of the
+precipice. The great pine trees, dusky in the gathering
+shades of evening, stood like sentinels along
+the narrow banks confining the river. Presently
+the sun, red as a glowing coal, dipped behind a
+jagged mountain peak, and all the life and light
+deserted the face of nature. Straightway there
+came upon the valley something dark and threatening
+--sullen, terrible, full of spectral weapons.
+The perpendicular cliffs of the barren western
+mountains seemed like the teeth of a monster
+lurking to snatch a victim and drag him down into
+the maw of the deep valley, black with its moaning
+forests. The pine trees were rows of knife-blades
+whispering: "Fall upon us!" and in the
+gathering darkness the torrent roared and howled,
+beating against its rocky prison walls with the
+frenzy of an everlasting despair.
+
+"Padre!" Arthur rose, shuddering, and drew
+back from the precipice. "It is like hell."
+
+"No, my son," Montanelli answered softly, "it
+is only like a human soul."
+
+"The souls of them that sit in darkness and in
+the shadow of death?"
+
+"The souls of them that pass you day by day
+in the street."
+
+Arthur shivered, looking down into the shadows.
+A dim white mist was hovering among the
+pine trees, clinging faintly about the desperate
+agony of the torrent, like a miserable ghost that
+had no consolation to give.
+
+"Look!" Arthur said suddenly. "The people
+that walked in darkness have seen a great
+light."
+
+Eastwards the snow-peaks burned in the afterglow.
+When the red light had faded from the
+summits Montanelli turned and roused Arthur
+with a touch on the shoulder.
+
+"Come in, carino; all the light is gone. We
+shall lose our way in the dark if we stay any
+longer."
+
+"It is like a corpse," Arthur said as he turned
+away from the spectral face of the great snow-peak
+glimmering through the twilight.
+
+They descended cautiously among the black
+trees to the chalet where they were to sleep.
+
+As Montanelli entered the room where Arthur
+was waiting for him at the supper table, he saw
+that the lad seemed to have shaken off the ghostly
+fancies of the dark, and to have changed into quite
+another creature.
+
+"Oh, Padre, do come and look at this absurd
+dog! It can dance on its hind legs."
+
+He was as much absorbed in the dog and its
+accomplishments as he had been in the after-glow.
+The woman of the chalet, red-faced and white-aproned,
+with sturdy arms akimbo, stood by smiling,
+while he put the animal through its tricks.
+"One can see there's not much on his mind if he
+can carry on that way," she said in patois to her
+daughter. "And what a handsome lad!"
+
+Arthur coloured like a schoolgirl, and the
+woman, seeing that he had understood, went away
+laughing at his confusion. At supper he talked of
+nothing but plans for excursions, mountain
+ascents, and botanizing expeditions. Evidently
+his dreamy fancies had not interfered with either
+his spirits or his appetite.
+
+When Montanelli awoke the next morning Arthur
+had disappeared. He had started before daybreak
+for the higher pastures "to help Gaspard
+drive up the goats."
+
+Breakfast had not long been on the table, however,
+when he came tearing into the room, hatless,
+with a tiny peasant girl of three years old
+perched on his shoulder, and a great bunch of wild
+flowers in his hand.
+
+Montanelli looked up, smiling. This was a curious
+contrast to the grave and silent Arthur of Pisa
+or Leghorn.
+
+"Where have you been, you madcap? Scampering
+all over the mountains without any breakfast?"
+
+"Oh, Padre, it was so jolly! The mountains
+look perfectly glorious at sunrise; and the dew is
+so thick! Just look!"
+
+He lifted for inspection a wet and muddy boot.
+
+"We took some bread and cheese with us, and
+got some goat's milk up there on the pasture; oh, it
+was nasty! But I'm hungry again, now; and I
+want something for this little person, too.
+Annette, won't you have some honey?"
+
+He had sat down with the child on his knee, and
+was helping her to put the flowers in order.
+
+"No, no!" Montanelli interposed. "I can't
+have you catching cold. Run and change your wet
+things. Come to me, Annette. Where did you
+pick her up?"
+
+"At the top of the village. She belongs to the
+man we saw yesterday--the man that cobbles the
+commune's boots. Hasn't she lovely eyes? She's
+got a tortoise in her pocket, and she calls it
+'Caroline.'"
+
+When Arthur had changed his wet socks and
+came down to breakfast he found the child seated
+on the Padre's knee, chattering volubly to him
+about her tortoise, which she was holding upside
+down in a chubby hand, that "monsieur" might
+admire the wriggling legs.
+
+"Look, monsieur!" she was saying gravely in
+her half-intelligible patois: "Look at Caroline's
+boots!"
+
+Montanelli sat playing with the child, stroking
+her hair, admiring her darling tortoise, and telling
+her wonderful stories. The woman of the
+chalet, coming in to clear the table, stared in
+amazement at the sight of Annette turning out
+the pockets of the grave gentleman in clerical
+dress.
+
+"God teaches the little ones to know a good
+man," she said. "Annette is always afraid of
+strangers; and see, she is not shy with his reverence
+at all. The wonderful thing! Kneel down,
+Annette, and ask the good monsieur's blessing
+before he goes; it will bring thee luck."
+
+"I didn't know you could play with children
+that way, Padre," Arthur said an hour later, as
+they walked through the sunlit pasture-land.
+"That child never took her eyes off you all the
+time. Do you know, I think----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I was only going to say--it seems to me
+almost a pity that the Church should forbid priests
+to marry. I cannot quite understand why. You
+see, the training of children is such a serious thing,
+and it means so much to them to be surrounded
+from the very beginning with good influences, that
+I should have thought the holier a man's vocation
+and the purer his life, the more fit he is to be a
+father. I am sure, Padre, if you had not been
+under a vow,--if you had married,--your children
+would have been the very----"
+
+"Hush!"
+
+The word was uttered in a hasty whisper that
+seemed to deepen the ensuing silence.
+
+"Padre," Arthur began again, distressed by the
+other's sombre look, "do you think there is anything
+wrong in what I said? Of course I may be
+mistaken; but I must think as it comes natural to
+me to think."
+
+"Perhaps," Montanelli answered gently, "you
+do not quite realize the meaning of what you just
+said. You will see differently in a few years.
+Meanwhile we had better talk about something
+else."
+
+It was the first break in the perfect ease and harmony
+that reigned between them on this ideal holiday.
+
+From Chamonix they went on by the Tete-Noire
+to Martigny, where they stopped to rest,
+as the weather was stiflingly hot. After dinner
+they sat on the terrace of the hotel, which was
+sheltered from the sun and commanded a good
+view of the mountains. Arthur brought out his
+specimen box and plunged into an earnest botanical
+discussion in Italian.
+
+Two English artists were sitting on the terrace;
+one sketching, the other lazily chatting. It did
+not seem to have occurred to him that the strangers
+might understand English.
+
+"Leave off daubing at the landscape, Willie,"
+he said; "and draw that glorious Italian boy going
+into ecstasies over those bits of ferns. Just look
+at the line of his eyebrows! You only need to put
+a crucifix for the magnifying-glass and a Roman
+toga for the jacket and knickerbockers, and there's
+your Early Christian complete, expression and
+all."
+
+"Early Christian be hanged! I sat beside that
+youth at dinner; he was just as ecstatic over the
+roast fowl as over those grubby little weeds. He's
+pretty enough; that olive colouring is beautiful;
+but he's not half so picturesque as his father."
+
+"His--who?"
+
+"His father, sitting there straight in front of
+you. Do you mean to say you've passed him over?
+It's a perfectly magnificent face."
+
+"Why, you dunder-headed, go-to-meeting
+Methodist! Don't you know a Catholic priest
+when you see one?"
+
+"A priest? By Jove, so he is! Yes, I forgot;
+vow of chastity, and all that sort of thing. Well
+then, we'll be charitable and suppose the boy's his
+nephew."
+
+"What idiotic people!" Arthur whispered,
+looking up with dancing eyes. "Still, it is kind of
+them to think me like you; I wish I were really
+your nephew----Padre, what is the matter?
+How white you are!"
+
+Montanelli was standing up, pressing one hand
+to his forehead. "I am a little giddy," he said in
+a curiously faint, dull tone. "Perhaps I was too
+much in the sun this morning. I will go and lie
+down, carino; it's nothing but the heat."
+
+     .     .     .     .     .
+
+After a fortnight beside the Lake of Lucerne
+Arthur and Montanelli returned to Italy by the
+St. Gothard Pass. They had been fortunate as
+to weather and had made several very pleasant excursions;
+but the first charm was gone out of their
+enjoyment. Montanelli was continually haunted
+by an uneasy thought of the "more definite talk"
+for which this holiday was to have been the opportunity.
+In the Arve valley he had purposely
+put off all reference to the subject of which they
+had spoken under the magnolia tree; it would be
+cruel, he thought, to spoil the first delights of
+Alpine scenery for a nature so artistic as Arthur's
+by associating them with a conversation which
+must necessarily be painful. Ever since the day
+at Martigny he had said to himself each morning;
+"I will speak to-day," and each evening: "I will
+speak to-morrow;" and now the holiday was over,
+and he still repeated again and again: "To-morrow,
+to-morrow." A chill, indefinable sense of
+something not quite the same as it had been, of
+an invisible veil falling between himself and
+Arthur, kept him silent, until, on the last evening
+of their holiday, he realized suddenly that
+he must speak now if he would speak at all.
+They were stopping for the night at Lugano,
+and were to start for Pisa next morning. He
+would at least find out how far his darling had
+been drawn into the fatal quicksand of Italian
+politics.
+
+"The rain has stopped, carino," he said after
+sunset; "and this is the only chance we shall have
+to see the lake. Come out; I want to have a talk
+with you."
+
+They walked along the water's edge to a quiet
+spot and sat down on a low stone wall. Close
+beside them grew a rose-bush, covered with scarlet
+hips; one or two belated clusters of creamy
+blossom still hung from an upper branch, swaying
+mournfully and heavy with raindrops. On the
+green surface of the lake a little boat, with white
+wings faintly fluttering, rocked in the dewy breeze.
+It looked as light and frail as a tuft of silvery
+dandelion seed flung upon the water. High up
+on Monte Salvatore the window of some shepherd's
+hut opened a golden eye. The roses hung
+their heads and dreamed under the still September
+clouds, and the water plashed and murmured
+softly among the pebbles of the shore.
+
+"This will be my only chance of a quiet talk
+with you for a long time," Montanelli began.
+"You will go back to your college work and
+friends; and I, too, shall be very busy this winter.
+I want to understand quite clearly what our position
+as regards each other is to be; and so, if
+you----" He stopped for a moment and then
+continued more slowly: "If you feel that you can
+still trust me as you used to do, I want you to tell
+me more definitely than that night in the seminary
+garden, how far you have gone."
+
+Arthur looked out across the water, listened
+quietly, and said nothing.
+
+"I want to know, if you will tell me," Montanelli
+went on; "whether you have bound yourself
+by a vow, or--in any way."
+
+"There is nothing to tell, dear Padre; I have
+not bound myself, but I am bound."
+
+"I don't understand------"
+
+"What is the use of vows? They are not what
+binds people. If you feel in a certain way about
+a thing, that binds you to it; if you don't feel that
+way, nothing else can bind you."
+
+"Do you mean, then, that this thing--this--
+feeling is quite irrevocable? Arthur, have you
+thought what you are saying?"
+
+Arthur turned round and looked straight into
+Montanelli's eyes.
+
+"Padre, you asked me if I could trust you.
+Can you not trust me, too? Indeed, if there were
+anything to tell, I would tell it to you; but there
+is no use in talking about these things. I have
+not forgotten what you said to me that night; I
+shall never forget it. But I must go my way and
+follow the light that I see."
+
+Montanelli picked a rose from the bush, pulled
+off the petals one by one, and tossed them into
+the water.
+
+"You are right, carino. Yes, we will say no
+more about these things; it seems there is indeed
+no help in many words----Well, well, let us go
+in."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE autumn and winter passed uneventfully.
+Arthur was reading hard and had little spare time.
+He contrived to get a glimpse of Montanelli once
+or oftener in every week, if only for a few
+minutes. From time to time he would come
+in to ask for help with some difficult book; but
+on these occasions the subject of study was
+strictly adhered to. Montanelli, feeling, rather
+than observing, the slight, impalpable barrier that
+had come between them, shrank from everything
+which might seem like an attempt to retain the
+old close relationship. Arthur's visits now caused
+him more distress than pleasure, so trying was the
+constant effort to appear at ease and to behave as
+if nothing were altered. Arthur, for his part,
+noticed, hardly understanding it, the subtle
+change in the Padre's manner; and, vaguely feeling
+that it had some connection with the vexed
+question of the "new ideas," avoided all mention
+of the subject with which his thoughts were constantly
+filled. Yet he had never loved Montanelli
+so deeply as now. The dim, persistent sense of
+dissatisfaction, of spiritual emptiness, which he
+had tried so hard to stifle under a load of theology
+and ritual, had vanished into nothing at the touch
+of Young Italy. All the unhealthy fancies born of
+loneliness and sick-room watching had passed
+away, and the doubts against which he used to
+pray had gone without the need of exorcism.
+With the awakening of a new enthusiasm, a
+clearer, fresher religious ideal (for it was more in
+this light than in that of a political development
+that the students' movement had appeared to
+him), had come a sense of rest and completeness,
+of peace on earth and good will towards men; and
+in this mood of solemn and tender exaltation all
+the world seemed to him full of light. He found
+a new element of something lovable in the persons
+whom he had most disliked; and Montanelli, who
+for five years had been his ideal hero, was now in
+his eyes surrounded with an additional halo, as a
+potential prophet of the new faith. He listened
+with passionate eagerness to the Padre's sermons,
+trying to find in them some trace of inner kinship
+with the republican ideal; and pored over the
+Gospels, rejoicing in the democratic tendencies of
+Christianity at its origin.
+
+One day in January he called at the seminary to
+return a book which he had borrowed. Hearing
+that the Father Director was out, he went up to
+Montanelli's private study, placed the volume on
+its shelf, and was about to leave the room when
+the title of a book lying on the table caught his
+eyes. It was Dante's "De Monarchia." He
+began to read it and soon became so absorbed that
+when the door opened and shut he did not hear.
+He was aroused from his preoccupation by Montanelli's
+voice behind him.
+
+"I did not expect you to-day," said the Padre,
+glancing at the title of the book. "I was just
+going to send and ask if you could come to me
+this evening."
+
+"Is it anything important? I have an engagement
+for this evening; but I will miss it if------"
+
+"No; to-morrow will do. I want to see you
+because I am going away on Tuesday. I have
+been sent for to Rome."
+
+"To Rome? For long?"
+
+"The letter says, 'till after Easter.' It is from
+the Vatican. I would have let you know at once,
+but have been very busy settling up things about
+the seminary and making arrangements for the new
+Director."
+
+"But, Padre, surely you are not giving up the
+seminary?"
+
+"It will have to be so; but I shall probably come
+back to Pisa, for some time at least."
+
+"But why are you giving it up?"
+
+"Well, it is not yet officially announced;
+but I am offered a bishopric."
+
+"Padre! Where?"
+
+"That is the point about which I have to go to
+Rome. It is not yet decided whether I am to
+take a see in the Apennines, or to remain here as
+Suffragan."
+
+"And is the new Director chosen yet?"
+
+"Father Cardi has been nominated and arrives
+here to-morrow."
+
+"Is not that rather sudden?"
+
+"Yes; but----The decisions of the Vatican
+are sometimes not communicated till the last
+moment."
+
+"Do you know the new Director?"
+
+"Not personally; but he is very highly spoken
+of. Monsignor Belloni, who writes, says that he
+is a man of great erudition."
+
+"The seminary will miss you terribly."
+
+"I don't know about the seminary, but I am sure
+you will miss me, carino; perhaps almost as much
+as I shall miss you."
+
+"I shall indeed; but I am very glad, for all
+that."
+
+"Are you? I don't know that I am." He sat
+down at the table with a weary look on his face;
+not the look of a man who is expecting high
+promotion.
+
+"Are you busy this afternoon, Arthur?" he said
+after a moment. "If not, I wish you would stay
+with me for a while, as you can't come to-night.
+I am a little out of sorts, I think; and I want to
+see as much of you as possible before leaving."
+
+"Yes, I can stay a bit. I am due at six."
+
+"One of your meetings?"
+
+Arthur nodded; and Montanelli changed the
+subject hastily.
+
+"I want to speak to you about yourself," he
+said. "You will need another confessor in my
+absence."
+
+"When you come back I may go on confessing
+to you, may I not?"
+
+"My dear boy, how can you ask? Of course I
+am speaking only of the three or four months that
+I shall be away. Will you go to one of the
+Fathers of Santa Caterina?"
+
+"Very well."
+
+They talked of other matters for a little while;
+then Arthur rose.
+
+"I must go, Padre; the students will be waiting
+for me."
+
+The haggard look came back to Montanelli's
+face.
+
+"Already? You had almost charmed away
+my black mood. Well, good-bye."
+
+"Good-bye. I will be sure to come to-morrow."
+
+"Try to come early, so that I may have time
+to see you alone. Father Cardi will be here.
+Arthur, my dear boy, be careful while I am gone;
+don't be led into doing anything rash, at least before
+I come back. You cannot think how anxious
+I feel about leaving you."
+
+"There is no need, Padre; everything is quite
+quiet. It will be a long time yet."
+
+"Good-bye," Montanelli said abruptly, and sat
+down to his writing.
+
+The first person upon whom Arthur's eyes fell,
+as he entered the room where the students' little
+gatherings were held, was his old playmate, Dr.
+Warren's daughter. She was sitting in a corner
+by the window, listening with an absorbed and
+earnest face to what one of the "initiators," a tall
+young Lombard in a threadbare coat, was saying
+to her. During the last few months she had
+changed and developed greatly, and now looked a
+grown-up young woman, though the dense black
+plaits still hung down her back in school-girl
+fashion. She was dressed all in black, and had
+thrown a black scarf over her head, as the room
+was cold and draughty. At her breast was a spray
+of cypress, the emblem of Young Italy. The
+initiator was passionately describing to her the
+misery of the Calabrian peasantry; and she sat
+listening silently, her chin resting on one hand
+and her eyes on the ground. To Arthur she
+seemed a melancholy vision of Liberty mourning
+for the lost Republic. (Julia would have seen in
+her only an overgrown hoyden, with a sallow complexion,
+an irregular nose, and an old stuff frock
+that was too short for her.)
+
+"You here, Jim!" he said, coming up to her
+when the initiator had been called to the other end
+of the room. "Jim" was a childish corruption of
+her curious baptismal name: Jennifer. Her Italian
+schoolmates called her "Gemma."
+
+She raised her head with a start.
+
+"Arthur! Oh, I didn't know you--belonged
+here!"
+
+"And I had no idea about you. Jim, since when
+have you----?"
+
+"You don't understand!" she interposed
+quickly. "I am not a member. It is only that
+I have done one or two little things. You see, I
+met Bini--you know Carlo Bini?"
+
+"Yes, of course." Bini was the organizer of the
+Leghorn branch; and all Young Italy knew him.
+
+"Well, he began talking to me about these
+things; and I asked him to let me go to a students'
+meeting. The other day he wrote to me to
+Florence------Didn't you know I had been to
+Florence for the Christmas holidays?"
+
+"I don't often hear from home now."
+
+"Ah, yes! Anyhow, I went to stay with the
+Wrights." (The Wrights were old schoolfellows
+of hers who had moved to Florence.) "Then Bini
+wrote and told me to pass through Pisa to-day on
+my way home, so that I could come here. Ah!
+they're going to begin."
+
+The lecture was upon the ideal Republic and
+the duty of the young to fit themselves for it.
+The lecturer's comprehension of his subject was
+somewhat vague; but Arthur listened with devout
+admiration. His mind at this period was curiously
+uncritical; when he accepted a moral ideal
+he swallowed it whole without stopping to think
+whether it was quite digestible. When the lecture
+and the long discussion which followed it were
+finished and the students began to disperse, he
+went up to Gemma, who was still sitting in the
+corner of the room.
+
+"Let me walk with you, Jim. Where are you
+staying?"
+
+"With Marietta."
+
+"Your father's old housekeeper?"
+
+"Yes; she lives a good way from here."
+
+They walked for some time in silence. Then
+Arthur said suddenly:
+
+"You are seventeen, now, aren't you?"
+
+"I was seventeen in October."
+
+"I always knew you would not grow up like
+other girls and begin wanting to go to balls and
+all that sort of thing. Jim, dear, I have so often
+wondered whether you would ever come to be
+one of us."
+
+"So have I."
+
+"You said you had done things for Bini; I
+didn't know you even knew him."
+
+"It wasn't for Bini; it was for the other one"
+
+"Which other one?"
+
+"The one that was talking to me to-night--
+Bolla."
+
+"Do you know him well?" Arthur put in with
+a little touch of jealousy. Bolla was a sore subject
+with him; there had been a rivalry between them
+about some work which the committee of Young
+Italy had finally intrusted to Bolla, declaring
+Arthur too young and inexperienced.
+
+"I know him pretty well; and I like him very
+much. He has been staying in Leghorn."
+
+"I know; he went there in November------"
+
+"Because of the steamers. Arthur, don't you
+think your house would be safer than ours for that
+work? Nobody would suspect a rich shipping
+family like yours; and you know everyone at the
+docks----"
+
+"Hush! not so loud, dear! So it was in your
+house the books from Marseilles were hidden?"
+
+"Only for one day. Oh! perhaps I oughtn't to
+have told you."
+
+"Why not? You know I belong to the society.
+Gemma, dear, there is nothing in all the world that
+would make me so happy as for you to join us--
+you and the Padre."
+
+"Your Padre! Surely he----"
+
+"No; he thinks differently. But I have sometimes
+fancied--that is--hoped--I don't know----"
+
+"But, Arthur! he's a priest."
+
+"What of that? There are priests in the society
+--two of them write in the paper. And why
+not? It is the mission of the priesthood to lead
+the world to higher ideals and aims, and what else
+does the society try to do? It is, after all, more
+a religious and moral question than a political one.
+If people are fit to be free and responsible citizens,
+no one can keep them enslaved."
+
+Gemma knit her brows. "It seems to me,
+Arthur," she said, "that there's a muddle somewhere
+in your logic. A priest teaches religious
+doctrine. I don't see what that has to do with
+getting rid of the Austrians."
+
+"A priest is a teacher of Christianity, and the
+greatest of all revolutionists was Christ."
+
+"Do you know, I was talking about priests to
+father the other day, and he said----"
+
+"Gemma, your father is a Protestant."
+
+After a little pause she looked round at him
+frankly.
+
+"Look here, we had better leave this subject
+alone. You are always intolerant when you talk
+about Protestants."
+
+"I didn't mean to be intolerant. But I think
+Protestants are generally intolerant when they
+talk about priests."
+
+"I dare say. Anyhow, we have so often quarreled
+over this subject that it is not worth while to
+begin again. What did you think of the lecture?"
+
+"I liked it very much--especially the last part.
+I was glad he spoke so strongly about the
+need of living the Republic, not dreaming of it.
+It is as Christ said: 'The Kingdom of Heaven is
+within you.'"
+
+"It was just that part that I didn't like. He
+talked so much of the wonderful things we ought
+to think and feel and be, but he never told us practically
+what we ought to do."
+
+"When the time of crisis comes there will be
+plenty for us to do; but we must be patient; these
+great changes are not made in a day."
+
+"The longer a thing is to take doing, the more
+reason to begin at once. You talk about being
+fit for freedom--did you ever know anyone so fit
+for it as your mother? Wasn't she the most perfectly
+angelic woman you ever saw? And what use
+was all her goodness? She was a slave till the day
+she died--bullied and worried and insulted by your
+brother James and his wife. It would have been
+much better for her if she had not been so sweet
+and patient; they would never have treated her
+so. That's just the way with Italy; it's not
+patience that's wanted--it's for somebody to get
+up and defend themselves------"
+
+"Jim, dear, if anger and passion could have
+saved Italy she would have been free long ago;
+it is not hatred that she needs, it is love."
+
+As he said the word a sudden flush went up
+to his forehead and died out again. Gemma
+did not see it; she was looking straight before
+her with knitted brows and set mouth.
+
+"You think I am wrong, Arthur," she said
+after a pause; "but I am right, and you will grow
+to see it some day. This is the house. Will you
+come in?"
+
+"No; it's late. Good-night, dear!"
+
+He was standing on the doorstep, clasping her
+hand in both of his.
+
+"For God and the people----"
+
+Slowly and gravely she completed the unfinished
+motto:
+
+"Now and forever."
+
+Then she pulled away her hand and ran into
+the house. When the door had closed behind her
+he stooped and picked up the spray of cypress
+which had fallen from her breast.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+ARTHUR went back to his lodgings feeling as
+though he had wings. He was absolutely, cloudlessly
+happy. At the meeting there had been
+hints of preparations for armed insurrection; and
+now Gemma was a comrade, and he loved her.
+They could work together, possibly even die together,
+for the Republic that was to be. The
+blossoming time of their hope was come, and the
+Padre would see it and believe.
+
+The next morning, however, he awoke in a
+soberer mood and remembered that Gemma was
+going to Leghorn and the Padre to Rome. January,
+February, March--three long months to
+Easter! And if Gemma should fall under "Protestant"
+influences at home (in Arthur's vocabulary
+"Protestant" stood for "Philistine")------
+No, Gemma would never learn to flirt and simper
+and captivate tourists and bald-headed shipowners,
+like the other English girls in Leghorn; she was
+made of different stuff. But she might be very
+miserable; she was so young, so friendless, so
+utterly alone among all those wooden people. If
+only mother had lived----
+
+In the evening he went to the seminary, where
+he found Montanelli entertaining the new Director
+and looking both tired and bored. Instead
+of lighting up, as usual, at the sight of Arthur, the
+Padre's face grew darker.
+
+"This is the student I spoke to you about," he
+said, introducing Arthur stiffly. "I shall be much
+obliged if you will allow him to continue using the
+library."
+
+Father Cardi, a benevolent-looking elderly
+priest, at once began talking to Arthur about the
+Sapienza, with an ease and familiarity which
+showed him to be well acquainted with college
+life. The conversation soon drifted into a discussion
+of university regulations, a burning question
+of that day. To Arthur's great delight, the new
+Director spoke strongly against the custom
+adopted by the university authorities of constantly
+worrying the students by senseless and vexatious
+restrictions.
+
+"I have had a good deal of experience in guiding
+young people," he said; "and I make it a
+rule never to prohibit anything without a good
+reason. There are very few young men who will
+give much trouble if proper consideration and respect
+for their personality are shown to them.
+But, of course, the most docile horse will kick if
+you are always jerking at the rein."
+
+Arthur opened his eyes wide; he had not expected
+to hear the students' cause pleaded by the
+new Director. Montanelli took no part in the discussion;
+its subject, apparently, did not interest
+him. The expression of his face was so unutterably
+hopeless and weary that Father Cardi broke
+off suddenly.
+
+"I am afraid I have overtired you, Canon. You
+must forgive my talkativeness; I am hot upon this
+subject and forget that others may grow weary
+of it."
+
+"On the contrary, I was much interested."
+Montanelli was not given to stereotyped politeness,
+and his tone jarred uncomfortably upon
+Arthur.
+
+When Father Cardi went to his own room
+Montanelli turned to Arthur with the intent and
+brooding look that his face had worn all the
+evening.
+
+"Arthur, my dear boy," he began slowly; "I
+have something to tell you."
+
+"He must have had bad news," flashed through
+Arthur's mind, as he looked anxiously at the haggard
+face. There was a long pause.
+
+"How do you like the new Director?" Montanelli
+asked suddenly.
+
+The question was so unexpected that, for a moment,
+Arthur was at a loss how to reply to it.
+
+"I--I like him very much, I think--at least--
+no, I am not quite sure that I do. But it is difficult
+to say, after seeing a person once."
+
+Montanelli sat beating his hand gently on the
+arm of his chair; a habit with him when anxious
+or perplexed.
+
+"About this journey to Rome," he began again;
+"if you think there is any--well--if you wish it,
+Arthur, I will write and say I cannot go."
+
+"Padre! But the Vatican------"
+
+"The Vatican will find someone else. I can
+send apologies."
+
+"But why? I can't understand."
+
+Montanelli drew one hand across his forehead.
+
+"I am anxious about you. Things keep coming
+into my head--and after all, there is no need
+for me to go------"
+
+"But the bishopric----"
+
+"Oh, Arthur! what shall it profit me if I gain a
+bishopric and lose----"
+
+He broke off. Arthur had never seen him like
+this before, and was greatly troubled.
+
+"I can't understand," he said. "Padre, if you
+could explain to me more--more definitely, what
+it is you think------"
+
+"I think nothing; I am haunted with a horrible
+fear. Tell me, is there any special danger?"
+
+"He has heard something," Arthur thought,
+remembering the whispers of a projected revolt.
+But the secret was not his to tell; and he merely
+answered: "What special danger should there be?"
+
+"Don't question me--answer me!" Montanelli's
+voice was almost harsh in its eagerness.
+"Are you in danger? I don't want to know your
+secrets; only tell me that!"
+
+"We are all in God's hands, Padre; anything
+may always happen. But I know of no reason
+why I should not be here alive and safe when you
+come back."
+
+"When I come back----Listen, carino; I will
+leave it in your hands. You need give me no
+reason; only say to me, 'Stay,' and I will give up
+this journey. There will be no injury to anyone,
+and I shall feel you are safer if I have you
+beside me."
+
+This kind of morbid fancifulness was so foreign
+to Montanelli's character that Arthur looked at
+him with grave anxiety.
+
+"Padre, I am sure you are not well. Of course
+you must go to Rome, and try to have a thorough
+rest and get rid of your sleeplessness and headaches."
+
+"Very well," Montanelli interrupted, as if tired
+of the subject; "I will start by the early coach
+to-morrow morning."
+
+Arthur looked at him, wondering.
+
+"You had something to tell me?" he said.
+
+"No, no; nothing more--nothing of any consequence."
+There was a startled, almost terrified
+look in his face.
+
+A few days after Montanelli's departure Arthur
+went to fetch a book from the seminary library,
+and met Father Cardi on the stairs.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Burton!" exclaimed the Director;
+"the very person I wanted. Please come in and
+help me out of a difficulty."
+
+He opened the study door, and Arthur followed
+him into the room with a foolish, secret sense of
+resentment. It seemed hard to see this dear
+study, the Padre's own private sanctum, invaded
+by a stranger.
+
+"I am a terrible book-worm," said the Director;
+"and my first act when I got here was to examine
+the library. It seems very interesting, but I do
+not understand the system by which it is catalogued."
+
+"The catalogue is imperfect; many of the
+best books have been added to the collection
+lately."
+
+"Can you spare half an hour to explain the arrangement
+to me?"
+
+They went into the library, and Arthur carefully
+explained the catalogue. When he rose to
+take his hat, the Director interfered, laughing.
+
+"No, no! I can't have you rushing off in that
+way. It is Saturday, and quite time for you to
+leave off work till Monday morning. Stop and
+have supper with me, now I have kept you so
+late. I am quite alone, and shall be glad of
+company."
+
+His manner was so bright and pleasant that Arthur
+felt at ease with him at once. After some
+desultory conversation, the Director inquired how
+long he had known Montanelli.
+
+"For about seven years. He came back from
+China when I was twelve years old."
+
+"Ah, yes! It was there that he gained his reputation
+as a missionary preacher. Have you been
+his pupil ever since?"
+
+"He began teaching me a year later, about the
+time when I first confessed to him. Since I have
+been at the Sapienza he has still gone on helping
+me with anything I wanted to study that was not
+in the regular course. He has been very kind to
+me--you can hardly imagine how kind."
+
+"I can well believe it; he is a man whom no one
+can fail to admire--a most noble and beautiful
+nature. I have met priests who were out in China
+with him; and they had no words high enough to
+praise his energy and courage under all hardships,
+and his unfailing devotion. You are fortunate to
+have had in your youth the help and guidance of
+such a man. I understood from him that you have
+lost both parents."
+
+"Yes; my father died when I was a child, and
+my mother a year ago."
+
+"Have you brothers and sisters?"
+
+"No; I have step-brothers; but they were business
+men when I was in the nursery."
+
+"You must have had a lonely childhood; perhaps
+you value Canon Montanelli's kindness the
+more for that. By the way, have you chosen a
+confessor for the time of his absence?"
+
+"I thought of going to one of the fathers of
+Santa Caterina, if they have not too many
+penitents."
+
+"Will you confess to me?"
+
+Arthur opened his eyes in wonder.
+
+"Reverend Father, of course I--should be glad;
+only----"
+
+"Only the Director of a theological seminary
+does not usually receive lay penitents? That is
+quite true. But I know Canon Montanelli takes
+a great interest in you, and I fancy he is a little
+anxious on your behalf--just as I should be if I
+were leaving a favourite pupil--and would like to
+know you were under the spiritual guidance of his
+colleague. And, to be quite frank with you, my
+son, I like you, and should be glad to give you
+any help I can."
+
+"If you put it that way, of course I shall be
+very grateful for your guidance."
+
+"Then you will come to me next month?
+That's right. And run in to see me, my lad, when
+you have time any evening."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+Shortly before Easter Montanelli's appointment
+to the little see of Brisighella, in the Etruscan
+Apennines, was officially announced. He
+wrote to Arthur from Rome in a cheerful and
+tranquil spirit; evidently his depression was passing
+over. "You must come to see me every vacation,"
+he wrote; "and I shall often be coming to
+Pisa; so I hope to see a good deal of you, if not
+so much as I should wish."
+
+Dr. Warren had invited Arthur to spend the
+Easter holidays with him and his children, instead
+of in the dreary, rat-ridden old place where Julia
+now reigned supreme. Enclosed in the letter was
+a short note, scrawled in Gemma's childish, irregular
+handwriting, begging him to come if possible,
+"as I want to talk to you about something."
+Still more encouraging was the whispered communication
+passing around from student to student in the university;
+everyone was to be prepared for great things after Easter.
+
+All this had put Arthur into a state of rapturous
+anticipation, in which the wildest improbabilities
+hinted at among the students seemed to
+him natural and likely to be realized within the
+next two months.
+
+He arranged to go home on Thursday in Passion
+week, and to spend the first days of the
+vacation there, that the pleasure of visiting the
+Warrens and the delight of seeing Gemma might
+not unfit him for the solemn religious meditation
+demanded by the Church from all her children at
+this season. He wrote to Gemma, promising to
+come on Easter Monday; and went up to his bedroom
+on Wednesday night with a soul at peace.
+
+He knelt down before the crucifix. Father
+Cardi had promised to receive him in the morning;
+and for this, his last confession before the
+Easter communion, he must prepare himself by
+long and earnest prayer. Kneeling with clasped
+hands and bent head, he looked back over the
+month, and reckoned up the miniature sins of
+impatience, carelessness, hastiness of temper,
+which had left their faint, small spots upon the
+whiteness of his soul. Beyond these he could find
+nothing; in this month he had been too happy
+to sin much. He crossed himself, and, rising, began
+to undress.
+
+As he unfastened his shirt a scrap of paper
+slipped from it and fluttered to the floor. It was
+Gemma's letter, which he had worn all day upon
+his neck. He picked it up, unfolded it, and kissed
+the dear scribble; then began folding the paper
+up again, with a dim consciousness of having done
+something very ridiculous, when he noticed on
+the back of the sheet a postscript which he had
+not read before. "Be sure and come as soon as
+possible," it ran, "for I want you to meet Bolla.
+He has been staying here, and we have read together
+every day."
+
+The hot colour went up to Arthur's forehead as
+he read.
+
+Always Bolla! What was he doing in Leghorn
+again? And why should Gemma want to read
+with him? Had he bewitched her with his smuggling?
+It had been quite easy to see at the meeting
+in January that he was in love with her; that
+was why he had been so earnest over his propaganda.
+And now he was close to her--reading
+with her every day.
+
+Arthur suddenly threw the letter aside and knelt
+down again before the crucifix. And this was the
+soul that was preparing for absolution, for the
+Easter sacrament--the soul at peace with God and
+itself and all the world! A soul capable of sordid
+jealousies and suspicions; of selfish animosities and
+ungenerous hatred--and against a comrade! He covered
+his face with both hands in bitter humiliation. Only
+five minutes ago he had been dreaming of martyrdom; and
+now he had been guilty of a mean and petty thought like this!
+
+When he entered the seminary chapel on Thursday
+morning he found Father Cardi alone. After
+repeating the Confiteor, he plunged at once into
+the subject of his last night's backsliding.
+
+"My father, I accuse myself of the sins of jealousy
+and anger, and of unworthy thoughts against
+one who has done me no wrong."
+
+Farther Cardi knew quite well with what kind of
+penitent he had to deal. He only said softly:
+
+"You have not told me all, my son."
+
+"Father, the man against whom I have thought
+an unchristian thought is one whom I am
+especially bound to love and honour."
+
+"One to whom you are bound by ties of
+blood?"
+
+"By a still closer tie."
+
+"By what tie, my son?"
+
+"By that of comradeship."
+
+"Comradeship in what?"
+
+"In a great and holy work."
+
+A little pause.
+
+"And your anger against this--comrade, your
+jealousy of him, was called forth by his success in
+that work being greater than yours?"
+
+"I--yes, partly. I envied him his experience--
+his usefulness. And then--I thought--I feared--
+that he would take from me the heart of the girl
+I--love."
+
+"And this girl that you love, is she a daughter
+of the Holy Church?"
+
+"No; she is a Protestant."
+
+"A heretic?"
+
+Arthur clasped his hands in great distress.
+"Yes, a heretic," he repeated. "We were brought
+up together; our mothers were friends--and I
+--envied him, because I saw that he loves her,
+too, and because--because----"
+
+"My son," said Father Cardi, speaking after a
+moment's silence, slowly and gravely, "you have
+still not told me all; there is more than this upon
+your soul."
+
+"Father, I----" He faltered and broke off
+again.
+
+The priest waited silently.
+
+"I envied him because the society--the Young
+Italy--that I belong to------"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Intrusted him with a work that I had hoped
+--would be given to me, that I had thought myself
+--specially adapted for."
+
+"What work?"
+
+"The taking in of books--political books--from
+the steamers that bring them--and finding a hiding
+place for them--in the town------"
+
+"And this work was given by the party to your
+rival?"
+
+"To Bolla--and I envied him."
+
+"And he gave you no cause for this feeling?
+You do not accuse him of having neglected the
+mission intrusted to him?"
+
+"No, father; he has worked bravely and devotedly;
+he is a true patriot and has deserved nothing
+but love and respect from me."
+
+Father Cardi pondered.
+
+"My son, if there is within you a new light, a
+dream of some great work to be accomplished for
+your fellow-men, a hope that shall lighten the burdens
+of the weary and oppressed, take heed how
+you deal with the most precious blessing of God.
+All good things are of His giving; and of His giving
+is the new birth. If you have found the way
+of sacrifice, the way that leads to peace; if you have
+joined with loving comrades to bring deliverance
+to them that weep and mourn in secret; then see
+to it that your soul be free from envy and passion
+and your heart as an altar where the sacred fire
+burns eternally. Remember that this is a high and
+holy thing, and that the heart which would receive
+it must be purified from every selfish thought.
+This vocation is as the vocation of a priest; it is
+not for the love of a woman, nor for the moment
+of a fleeting passion; it is FOR GOD AND THE PEOPLE;
+it is NOW AND FOREVER."
+
+"Ah!" Arthur started and clasped his hands;
+he had almost burst out sobbing at the motto.
+"Father, you give us the sanction of the Church!
+Christ is on our side----"
+
+"My son," the priest answered solemnly,
+"Christ drove the moneychangers out of the
+Temple, for His House shall be called a House
+of Prayer, and they had made it a den of thieves."
+
+After a long silence, Arthur whispered tremulously:
+
+"And Italy shall be His Temple when they are
+driven out----"
+
+He stopped; and the soft answer came back:
+
+"'The earth and the fulness thereof are mine,
+saith the Lord.'"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THAT afternoon Arthur felt the need of a long
+walk. He intrusted his luggage to a fellow-student
+and went to Leghorn on foot.
+
+The day was damp and cloudy, but not cold; and
+the low, level country seemed to him fairer than he
+had ever known it to look before. He had a sense
+of delight in the soft elasticity of the wet grass
+under his feet and in the shy, wondering eyes of
+the wild spring flowers by the roadside. In a
+thorn-acacia bush at the edge of a little strip of
+wood a bird was building a nest, and flew up as he
+passed with a startled cry and a quick fluttering of
+brown wings.
+
+He tried to keep his mind fixed upon the devout
+meditations proper to the eve of Good Friday.
+But thoughts of Montanelli and Gemma got so
+much in the way of this devotional exercise that at
+last he gave up the attempt and allowed his fancy
+to drift away to the wonders and glories of the
+coming insurrection, and to the part in it that he
+had allotted to his two idols. The Padre was to
+be the leader, the apostle, the prophet before
+whose sacred wrath the powers of darkness were
+to flee, and at whose feet the young defenders of
+Liberty were to learn afresh the old doctrines,
+the old truths in their new and unimagined
+significance.
+
+And Gemma? Oh, Gemma would fight at
+the barricades. She was made of the clay from
+which heroines are moulded; she would be the
+perfect comrade, the maiden undefiled and unafraid,
+of whom so many poets have dreamed. She
+would stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder,
+rejoicing under the winged death-storm; and they
+would die together, perhaps in the moment of
+victory--without doubt there would be a victory.
+Of his love he would tell her nothing; he would say
+no word that might disturb her peace or spoil her
+tranquil sense of comradeship. She was to him a
+holy thing, a spotless victim to be laid upon the
+altar as a burnt-offering for the deliverance of the
+people; and who was he that he should enter into
+the white sanctuary of a soul that knew no other
+love than God and Italy?
+
+God and Italy----Then came a sudden drop
+from the clouds as he entered the great, dreary
+house in the "Street of Palaces," and Julia's butler,
+immaculate, calm, and politely disapproving as
+ever, confronted him upon the stairs.
+
+"Good-evening, Gibbons; are my brothers in?"
+
+"Mr. Thomas is in, sir; and Mrs. Burton. They
+are in the drawing room."
+
+Arthur went in with a dull sense of oppression.
+What a dismal house it was! The flood of life
+seemed to roll past and leave it always just above
+high-water mark. Nothing in it ever changed--
+neither the people, nor the family portraits, nor the
+heavy furniture and ugly plate, nor the vulgar
+ostentation of riches, nor the lifeless aspect of
+everything. Even the flowers on the brass stands
+looked like painted metal flowers that had never
+known the stirring of young sap within them in
+the warm spring days. Julia, dressed for dinner,
+and waiting for visitors in the drawing room which
+was to her the centre of existence, might have sat
+for a fashion-plate just as she was, with her wooden
+smile and flaxen ringlets, and the lap-dog on her
+knee.
+
+"How do you do, Arthur?" she said stiffly, giving
+him the tips of her fingers for a moment, and
+then transferring them to the more congenial contact
+of the lap-dog's silken coat. "I hope you
+are quite well and have made satisfactory progress
+at college."
+
+Arthur murmured the first commonplace that
+he could think of at the moment, and relapsed into
+uncomfortable silence. The arrival of James, in his
+most pompous mood and accompanied by a stiff,
+elderly shipping-agent, did not improve matters;
+and when Gibbons announced that dinner was
+served, Arthur rose with a little sigh of relief.
+
+"I won't come to dinner, Julia. If you'll excuse
+me I will go to my room."
+
+"You're overdoing that fasting, my boy," said
+Thomas; "I am sure you'll make yourself ill."
+
+"Oh, no! Good-night."
+
+In the corridor Arthur met the under housemaid
+and asked her to knock at his door at six in
+the morning.
+
+"The signorino is going to church?"
+
+"Yes. Good-night, Teresa."
+
+He went into his room. It had belonged to his
+mother, and the alcove opposite the window had
+been fitted up during her long illness as an oratory.
+A great crucifix on a black pedestal occupied the
+middle of the altar; and before it hung a little
+Roman lamp. This was the room where she had
+died. Her portrait was on the wall beside the
+bed; and on the table stood a china bowl which
+had been hers, filled with a great bunch of her
+favourite violets. It was just a year since her
+death; and the Italian servants had not forgotten
+her.
+
+He took out of his portmanteau a framed picture,
+carefully wrapped up. It was a crayon portrait
+of Montanelli, which had come from Rome
+only a few days before. He was unwrapping this
+precious treasure when Julia's page brought in a
+supper-tray on which the old Italian cook, who had
+served Gladys before the harsh, new mistress came,
+had placed such little delicacies as she considered
+her dear signorino might permit himself to eat
+without infringing the rules of the Church.
+Arthur refused everything but a piece of bread;
+and the page, a nephew of Gibbons, lately arrived
+from England, grinned significantly as he carried
+out the tray. He had already joined the Protestant
+camp in the servants' hall.
+
+Arthur went into the alcove and knelt down
+before the crucifix, trying to compose his mind to
+the proper attitude for prayer and meditation.
+But this he found difficult to accomplish. He had,
+as Thomas said, rather overdone the Lenten privations,
+and they had gone to his head like strong
+wine. Little quivers of excitement went down his
+back, and the crucifix swam in a misty cloud before
+his eyes. It was only after a long litany, mechanically
+repeated, that he succeeded in recalling his
+wandering imagination to the mystery of the
+Atonement. At last sheer physical weariness
+conquered the feverish agitation of his nerves, and
+he lay down to sleep in a calm and peaceful mood,
+free from all unquiet or disturbing thoughts.
+
+He was fast asleep when a sharp, impatient
+knock came at his door. "Ah, Teresa!" he
+thought, turning over lazily. The knock was
+repeated, and he awoke with a violent start.
+
+"Signorino! signorino!" cried a man's voice in
+Italian; "get up for the love of God!"
+
+Arthur jumped out of bed.
+
+"What is the matter? Who is it?"
+
+"It's I, Gian Battista. Get up, quick, for Our
+Lady's sake!"
+
+Arthur hurriedly dressed and opened the door.
+As he stared in perplexity at the coachman's pale,
+terrified face, the sound of tramping feet and
+clanking metal came along the corridor, and he
+suddenly realized the truth.
+
+"For me?" he asked coolly.
+
+"For you! Oh, signorino, make haste! What
+have you to hide? See, I can put----"
+
+"I have nothing to hide. Do my brothers
+know?"
+
+The first uniform appeared at the turn of the
+passage.
+
+"The signor has been called; all the house is
+awake. Alas! what a misfortune--what a terrible
+misfortune! And on Good Friday! Holy Saints,
+have pity!"
+
+Gian Battista burst into tears. Arthur moved
+a few steps forward and waited for the gendarmes,
+who came clattering along, followed by a shivering
+crowd of servants in various impromptu costumes.
+As the soldiers surrounded Arthur, the
+master and mistress of the house brought up the
+rear of this strange procession; he in dressing
+gown and slippers, she in a long peignoir, with her
+hair in curlpapers.
+
+"There is, sure, another flood toward, and these
+couples are coming to the ark! Here comes a
+pair of very strange beasts!"
+
+The quotation flashed across Arthur's mind as
+he looked at the grotesque figures. He checked
+a laugh with a sense of its jarring incongruity--this
+was a time for worthier thoughts. "Ave Maria,
+Regina Coeli!" he whispered, and turned his eyes
+away, that the bobbing of Julia's curlpapers might
+not again tempt him to levity.
+
+"Kindly explain to me," said Mr. Burton, approaching
+the officer of gendarmerie, "what is the
+meaning of this violent intrusion into a private
+house? I warn you that, unless you are prepared
+to furnish me with a satisfactory explanation, I
+shall feel bound to complain to the English
+Ambassador."
+
+"I presume," replied the officer stiffly, "that
+you will recognize this as a sufficient explanation;
+the English Ambassador certainly will." He
+pulled out a warrant for the arrest of Arthur
+Burton, student of philosophy, and, handing it to
+James, added coldly: "If you wish for any further
+explanation, you had better apply in person to the
+chief of police."
+
+Julia snatched the paper from her husband,
+glanced over it, and flew at Arthur like nothing
+else in the world but a fashionable lady in a
+rage.
+
+"So it's you that have disgraced the family!"
+she screamed; "setting all the rabble in the town
+gaping and staring as if the thing were a show?
+So you have turned jail-bird, now, with all your
+piety! It's what we might have expected from
+that Popish woman's child----"
+
+"You must not speak to a prisoner in a foreign
+language, madam," the officer interrupted; but
+his remonstrance was hardly audible under the torrent
+of Julia's vociferous English.
+
+"Just what we might have expected! Fasting
+and prayer and saintly meditation; and this is what
+was underneath it all! I thought that would be
+the end of it."
+
+Dr. Warren had once compared Julia to a salad
+into which the cook had upset the vinegar cruet.
+The sound of her thin, hard voice set Arthur's
+teeth on edge, and the simile suddenly popped up
+in his memory.
+
+"There's no use in this kind of talk," he said.
+"You need not be afraid of any unpleasantness;
+everyone will understand that you are all quite
+innocent. I suppose, gentlemen, you want to
+search my things. I have nothing to hide."
+
+While the gendarmes ransacked the room, reading
+his letters, examining his college papers, and
+turning out drawers and boxes, he sat waiting on
+the edge of the bed, a little flushed with excitement,
+but in no way distressed. The search did
+not disquiet him. He had always burned letters
+which could possibly compromise anyone, and beyond
+a few manuscript verses, half revolutionary,
+half mystical, and two or three numbers of Young
+Italy, the gendarmes found nothing to repay them
+for their trouble. Julia, after a long resistance,
+yielded to the entreaties of her brother-in-law and
+went back to bed, sweeping past Arthur with
+magnificent disdain, James meekly following.
+
+When they had left the room, Thomas, who all
+this while had been tramping up and down, trying
+to look indifferent, approached the officer and
+asked permission to speak to the prisoner.
+Receiving a nod in answer, he went up to Arthur
+and muttered in a rather husky voice:
+
+"I say; this is an infernally awkward business.
+I'm very sorry about it."
+
+Arthur looked up with a face as serene as a summer
+morning. "You have always been good to
+me," he said. "There's nothing to be sorry
+about. I shall be safe enough."
+
+"Look here, Arthur!" Thomas gave his moustache
+a hard pull and plunged head first into the
+awkward question. "Is--all this anything to do
+with--money? Because, if it is, I----"
+
+"With money! Why, no! What could it have
+to do----"
+
+"Then it's some political tomfoolery? I
+thought so. Well, don't you get down in the
+mouth--and never mind all the stuff Julia talks.
+It's only her spiteful tongue; and if you want
+help,--cash, or anything,--let me know, will
+you?"
+
+Arthur held out his hand in silence, and Thomas
+left the room with a carefully made-up expression
+of unconcern that rendered his face more stolid
+than ever.
+
+The gendarmes, meanwhile, had finished their
+search, and the officer in charge requested Arthur
+to put on his outdoor clothes. He obeyed at once
+and turned to leave the room; then stopped with
+sudden hesitation. It seemed hard to take leave
+of his mother's oratory in the presence of these
+officials.
+
+"Have you any objection to leaving the room
+for a moment?" he asked. "You see that I cannot
+escape and that there is nothing to conceal."
+
+"I am sorry, but it is forbidden to leave a
+prisoner alone."
+
+"Very well, it doesn't matter."
+
+He went into the alcove, and, kneeling down,
+kissed the feet and pedestal of the crucifix, whispering
+softly: "Lord, keep me faithful unto death."
+
+When he rose, the officer was standing by the
+table, examining Montanelli's portrait. "Is this
+a relative of yours?" he asked.
+
+"No; it is my confessor, the new Bishop of
+Brisighella."
+
+On the staircase the Italian servants were waiting,
+anxious and sorrowful. They all loved Arthur
+for his own sake and his mother's, and crowded
+round him, kissing his hands and dress with
+passionate grief. Gian Battista stood by, the
+tears dripping down his gray moustache. None
+of the Burtons came out to take leave of him.
+Their coldness accentuated the tenderness and
+sympathy of the servants, and Arthur was near to
+breaking down as he pressed the hands held out
+to him.
+
+"Good-bye, Gian Battista. Kiss the little ones
+for me. Good-bye, Teresa. Pray for me, all of
+you; and God keep you! Good-bye, good-bye!"
+
+He ran hastily downstairs to the front door. A
+moment later only a little group of silent men and
+sobbing women stood on the doorstep watching
+the carriage as it drove away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+ARTHUR was taken to the huge mediaeval fortress
+at the harbour's mouth. He found prison life
+fairly endurable. His cell was unpleasantly damp
+and dark; but he had been brought up in a palace
+in the Via Borra, and neither close air, rats, nor
+foul smells were novelties to him. The food, also,
+was both bad and insufficient; but James soon obtained
+permission to send him all the necessaries of
+life from home. He was kept in solitary confinement,
+and, though the vigilance of the warders
+was less strict than he had expected, he failed to
+obtain any explanation of the cause of his arrest.
+Nevertheless, the tranquil frame of mind in which
+he had entered the fortress did not change. Not
+being allowed books, he spent his time in prayer
+and devout meditation, and waited without impatience
+or anxiety for the further course of events.
+
+One day a soldier unlocked the door of his cell
+and called to him: "This way, please!" After two
+or three questions, to which he got no answer but,
+"Talking is forbidden," Arthur resigned himself
+to the inevitable and followed the soldier through
+a labyrinth of courtyards, corridors, and stairs, all
+more or less musty-smelling, into a large, light
+room in which three persons in military uniform
+sat at a long table covered with green baize and littered
+with papers, chatting in a languid, desultory
+way. They put on a stiff, business air as he came
+in, and the oldest of them, a foppish-looking man
+with gray whiskers and a colonel's uniform,
+pointed to a chair on the other side of the table
+and began the preliminary interrogation.
+
+Arthur had expected to be threatened, abused,
+and sworn at, and had prepared himself to
+answer with dignity and patience; but he was pleasantly
+disappointed. The colonel was stiff, cold
+and formal, but perfectly courteous. The usual
+questions as to his name, age, nationality, and
+social position were put and answered, and the
+replies written down in monotonous succession.
+He was beginning to feel bored and impatient,
+when the colonel asked:
+
+"And now, Mr. Burton, what do you know
+about Young Italy?"
+
+"I know that it is a society which publishes a
+newspaper in Marseilles and circulates it in Italy,
+with the object of inducing people to revolt and
+drive the Austrian army out of the country."
+
+"You have read this paper, I think?"
+
+"Yes; I am interested in the subject."
+
+"When you read it you realized that you were
+committing an illegal action?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Where did you get the copies which were
+found in your room?"
+
+"That I cannot tell you."
+
+"Mr. Burton, you must not say 'I cannot tell'
+here; you are bound to answer my questions."
+
+"I will not, then, if you object to 'cannot.'"
+
+"You will regret it if you permit yourself to
+use such expressions," remarked the colonel. As
+Arthur made no reply, he went on:
+
+"I may as well tell you that evidence has come
+into our hands proving your connection with this
+society to be much more intimate than is implied
+by the mere reading of forbidden literature. It
+will be to your advantage to confess frankly. In
+any case the truth will be sure to come out, and
+you will find it useless to screen yourself behind
+evasion and denials."
+
+"I have no desire to screen myself. What is it
+you want to know?"
+
+"Firstly, how did you, a foreigner, come to be
+implicated in matters of this kind?"
+
+"I thought about the subject and read everything
+I could get hold of, and formed my own
+conclusions."
+
+"Who persuaded you to join this society?"
+
+"No one; I wished to join it."
+
+"You are shilly-shallying with me," said the
+colonel, sharply; his patience was evidently beginning
+to give out. "No one can join a society by
+himself. To whom did you communicate your wish
+to join it?"
+
+Silence.
+
+"Will you have the kindness to answer me?"
+
+"Not when you ask questions of that kind."
+
+Arthur spoke sullenly; a curious, nervous irritability
+was taking possession of him. He knew by
+this time that many arrests had been made in both
+Leghorn and Pisa; and, though still ignorant of
+the extent of the calamity, he had already heard
+enough to put him into a fever of anxiety for the
+safety of Gemma and his other friends. The
+studied politeness of the officers, the dull game of
+fencing and parrying, of insidious questions and
+evasive answers, worried and annoyed him, and the
+clumsy tramping backward and forward of the
+sentinel outside the door jarred detestably upon
+his ear.
+
+"Oh, by the bye, when did you last meet Giovanni
+Bolla?" asked the colonel, after a little more
+bandying of words. "Just before you left Pisa,
+was it?"
+
+"I know no one of that name."
+
+"What! Giovanni Bolla? Surely you know him
+--a tall young fellow, closely shaven. Why, he
+is one of your fellow-students."
+
+"There are many students in the university
+whom I don't know."
+
+"Oh, but you must know Bolla, surely! Look,
+this is his handwriting. You see, he knows you
+well enough."
+
+The colonel carelessly handed him a paper
+headed: "Protocol," and signed: "Giovanni
+Bolla." Glancing down it Arthur came upon his
+own name. He looked up in surprise. "Am I to
+read it?"
+
+"Yes, you may as well; it concerns you."
+
+He began to read, while the officers sat silently
+watching his face. The document appeared to
+consist of depositions in answer to a long string of
+questions. Evidently Bolla, too, must have been
+arrested. The first depositions were of the usual
+stereotyped character; then followed a short account
+of Bolla's connection with the society, of the
+dissemination of prohibited literature in Leghorn,
+and of the students' meetings. Next came
+"Among those who joined us was a young Englishman,
+Arthur Burton, who belongs to one of
+the rich shipowning families."
+
+The blood rushed into Arthur's face. Bolla had
+betrayed him! Bolla, who had taken upon himself
+the solemn duties of an initiator--Bolla, who had
+converted Gemma--who was in love with her!
+He laid down the paper and stared at the floor.
+
+"I hope that little document has refreshed
+your memory?" hinted the colonel politely.
+
+Arthur shook his head. "I know no one of that
+name," he repeated in a dull, hard voice. "There
+must be some mistake."
+
+"Mistake? Oh, nonsense! Come, Mr. Burton,
+chivalry and quixotism are very fine things in
+their way; but there's no use in overdoing them.
+It's an error all you young people fall into at first.
+Come, think! What good is it for you to compromise
+yourself and spoil your prospects in life over
+a simple formality about a man that has betrayed
+you? You see yourself, he wasn't so particular
+as to what he said about you."
+
+A faint shade of something like mockery had
+crept into the colonel's voice. Arthur looked
+up with a start; a sudden light flashed upon his
+mind.
+
+"It's a lie!" he cried out. "It's a forgery! I
+can see it in your face, you cowardly----You've
+got some prisoner there you want to compromise,
+or a trap you want to drag me into. You are a forger,
+and a liar, and a scoundrel----"
+
+"Silence!" shouted the colonel, starting up in a
+rage; his two colleagues were already on their
+feet. "Captain Tommasi," he went on, turning to
+one of them, "ring for the guard, if you please,
+and have this young gentleman put in the punishment
+cell for a few days. He wants a lesson, I see,
+to bring him to reason."
+
+The punishment cell was a dark, damp, filthy
+hole under ground. Instead of bringing Arthur
+"to reason," it thoroughly exasperated him. His
+luxurious home had rendered him daintily fastidious
+about personal cleanliness, and the first effect
+of the slimy, vermin-covered walls, the floor
+heaped with accumulations of filth and garbage,
+the fearful stench of fungi and sewage and rotting
+wood, was strong enough to have satisfied the
+offended officer. When he was pushed in and the
+door locked behind him he took three cautious
+steps forward with outstretched hands, shuddering
+with disgust as his fingers came into contact with
+the slippery wall, and groped in the dense blackness
+for some spot less filthy than the rest in which
+to sit down.
+
+The long day passed in unbroken blackness and
+silence, and the night brought no change. In the
+utter void and absence of all external impressions,
+he gradually lost the consciousness of time; and
+when, on the following morning, a key was turned
+in the door lock, and the frightened rats scurried
+past him squeaking, he started up in a sudden
+panic, his heart throbbing furiously and a roaring
+noise in his ears, as though he had been shut
+away from light and sound for months instead of
+hours.
+
+The door opened, letting in a feeble lantern
+gleam--a flood of blinding light, it seemed to him
+--and the head warder entered, carrying a piece of
+bread and a mug of water. Arthur made a step
+forward; he was quite convinced that the man
+had come to let him out. Before he had time to
+speak, the warder put the bread and mug into his
+hands, turned round and went away without a
+word, locking the door again.
+
+Arthur stamped his foot upon the ground. For
+the first time in his life he was savagely angry.
+But as the hours went by, the consciousness of time
+and place gradually slipped further and further
+away. The blackness seemed an illimitable thing,
+with no beginning and no end, and life had, as it
+were, stopped for him. On the evening of the
+third day, when the door was opened and the head
+warder appeared on the threshold with a soldier,
+he looked up, dazed and bewildered, shading his
+eyes from the unaccustomed light, and vaguely
+wondering how many hours or weeks he had been
+in this grave.
+
+"This way, please," said the cool business voice
+of the warder. Arthur rose and moved forward
+mechanically, with a strange unsteadiness, swaying
+and stumbling like a drunkard. He resented the
+warder's attempt to help him up the steep, narrow
+steps leading to the courtyard; but as he reached
+the highest step a sudden giddiness came over him,
+so that he staggered and would have fallen backwards
+had the warder not caught him by the shoulder.
+
+     .     .     .     .     .
+
+"There, he'll be all right now," said a cheerful
+voice; "they most of them go off this way coming
+out into the air."
+
+Arthur struggled desperately for breath as another
+handful of water was dashed into his face.
+The blackness seemed to fall away from him in
+pieces with a rushing noise; then he woke suddenly
+into full consciousness, and, pushing aside
+the warder's arm, walked along the corridor and
+up the stairs almost steadily. They stopped for a
+moment in front of a door; then it opened, and before
+he realized where they were taking him
+he was in the brightly lighted interrogation
+room, staring in confused wonder at the table and
+the papers and the officers sitting in their accustomed places.
+
+"Ah, it's Mr. Burton!" said the colonel. "I
+hope we shall be able to talk more comfortably
+now. Well, and how do you like the dark cell?
+Not quite so luxurious as your brother's drawing
+room, is it? eh?"
+
+Arthur raised his eyes to the colonel's smiling
+face. He was seized by a frantic desire to spring
+at the throat of this gray-whiskered fop and tear it
+with his teeth. Probably something of this kind
+was visible in his face, for the colonel added immediately,
+in a quite different tone:
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Burton, and drink some water;
+you are excited."
+
+Arthur pushed aside the glass of water held out
+to him; and, leaning his arms on the table, rested
+his forehead on one hand and tried to collect his
+thoughts. The colonel sat watching him keenly,
+noting with experienced eyes the unsteady hands
+and lips, the hair dripping with water, the dim
+gaze that told of physical prostration and disordered nerves.
+
+"Now, Mr. Burton," he said after a few minutes;
+"we will start at the point where we left off; and
+as there has been a certain amount of unpleasantness
+between us, I may as well begin by saying that
+I, for my part, have no desire to be anything but
+indulgent with you. If you will behave properly
+and reasonably, I assure you that we shall not
+treat you with any unnecessary harshness."
+
+"What do you want me to do?"
+
+Arthur spoke in a hard, sullen voice, quite different
+from his natural tone.
+
+"I only want you to tell us frankly, in a straightforward
+and honourable manner, what you know
+of this society and its adherents. First of all, how
+long have you known Bolla?"
+
+"I never met him in my life. I know nothing
+whatever about him."
+
+"Really? Well, we will return to that subject
+presently. I think you know a young man named
+Carlo Bini?"
+
+"I never heard of such a person."
+
+"That is very extraordinary. What about
+Francesco Neri?"
+
+"I never heard the name."
+
+"But here is a letter in your handwriting, addressed
+to him. Look!"
+
+Arthur glanced carelessly at the letter and laid it
+aside.
+
+"Do you recognize that letter?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You deny that it is in your writing?"
+
+"I deny nothing. I have no recollection of it."
+
+"Perhaps you remember this one?"
+
+A second letter was handed to him, and he saw
+that it was one which he had written in the autumn
+to a fellow-student.
+
+"No."
+
+"Nor the person to whom it is addressed?"
+
+"Nor the person."
+
+"Your memory is singularly short."
+
+"It is a defect from which I have always
+suffered."
+
+"Indeed! And I heard the other day from a
+university professor that you are considered by no
+means deficient; rather clever in fact."
+
+"You probably judge of cleverness by the police-spy
+standard; university professors use words in a
+different sense."
+
+The note of rising irritation was plainly audible
+in Arthur's voice. He was physically exhausted
+with hunger, foul air, and want of sleep; every bone
+in his body seemed to ache separately; and the
+colonel's voice grated on his exasperated nerves,
+setting his teeth on edge like the squeak of a slate
+pencil.
+
+"Mr. Burton," said the colonel, leaning back
+in his chair and speaking gravely, "you are again
+forgetting yourself; and I warn you once more
+that this kind of talk will do you no good. Surely
+you have had enough of the dark cell not to want
+any more just for the present. I tell you plainly
+that I shall use strong measures with you if you
+persist in repulsing gentle ones. Mind, I have
+proof--positive proof--that some of these young
+men have been engaged in smuggling prohibited
+literature into this port; and that you have been
+in communication with them. Now, are you going
+to tell me, without compulsion, what you know
+about this affair?"
+
+Arthur bent his head lower. A blind, senseless,
+wild-beast fury was beginning to stir within him
+like a live thing. The possibility of losing command
+over himself was more appalling to him than
+any threats. For the first time he began to realize
+what latent potentialities may lie hidden beneath
+the culture of any gentleman and the piety of any
+Christian; and the terror of himself was strong
+upon him.
+
+"I am waiting for your answer," said the colonel.
+
+"I have no answer to give."
+
+"You positively refuse to answer?"
+
+"I will tell you nothing at all."
+
+"Then I must simply order you back into the
+punishment cell, and keep you there till you change
+your mind. If there is much more trouble with
+you, I shall put you in irons."
+
+Arthur looked up, trembling from head to foot.
+"You will do as you please," he said slowly; "and
+whether the English Ambassador will stand your
+playing tricks of that kind with a British subject
+who has not been convicted of any crime is for him
+to decide."
+
+At last Arthur was conducted back to his own
+cell, where he flung himself down upon the bed
+and slept till the next morning. He was not put
+in irons, and saw no more of the dreaded dark cell;
+but the feud between him and the colonel grew
+more inveterate with every interrogation. It was
+quite useless for Arthur to pray in his cell for grace
+to conquer his evil passions, or to meditate half the
+night long upon the patience and meekness of
+Christ. No sooner was he brought again into the
+long, bare room with its baize-covered table, and
+confronted with the colonel's waxed moustache,
+than the unchristian spirit would take possession of
+him once more, suggesting bitter repartees and
+contemptuous answers. Before he had been a
+month in the prison the mutual irritation had
+reached such a height that he and the colonel
+could not see each other's faces without losing
+their temper.
+
+The continual strain of this petty warfare was
+beginning to tell heavily upon his nerves. Knowing
+how closely he was watched, and remembering
+certain dreadful rumours which he had heard of
+prisoners secretly drugged with belladonna that
+notes might be taken of their ravings, he gradually
+became afraid to sleep or eat; and if a mouse ran
+past him in the night, would start up drenched
+with cold sweat and quivering with terror, fancying
+that someone was hiding in the room to listen
+if he talked in his sleep. The gendarmes were evidently
+trying to entrap him into making some
+admission which might compromise Bolla; and so
+great was his fear of slipping, by any inadvertency,
+into a pitfall, that he was really in danger of doing
+so through sheer nervousness. Bolla's name rang
+in his ears night and day, interfering even with his
+devotions, and forcing its way in among the beads
+of the rosary instead of the name of Mary. But
+the worst thing of all was that his religion, like the
+outer world, seemed to be slipping away from him
+as the days went by. To this last foothold he clung
+with feverish tenacity, spending several hours of
+each day in prayer and meditation; but his
+thoughts wandered more and more often to Bolla,
+and the prayers were growing terribly mechanical.
+
+His greatest comfort was the head warder of the
+prison. This was a little old man, fat and bald,
+who at first had tried his hardest to wear a severe
+expression. Gradually the good nature which
+peeped out of every dimple in his chubby face conquered
+his official scruples, and he began carrying
+messages for the prisoners from cell to cell.
+
+One afternoon in the middle of May this
+warder came into the cell with a face so scowling
+and gloomy that Arthur looked at him in
+astonishment.
+
+"Why, Enrico!" he exclaimed; "what on earth
+is wrong with you to-day?"
+
+"Nothing," said Enrico snappishly; and, going
+up to the pallet, he began pulling off the rug,
+which was Arthur's property.
+
+"What do you want with my things? Am I to
+be moved into another cell?"
+
+"No; you're to be let out."
+
+"Let out? What--to-day? For altogether?
+Enrico!"
+
+In his excitement Arthur had caught hold of the
+old man's arm. It was angrily wrenched away.
+
+"Enrico! What has come to you? Why don't
+you answer? Are we all going to be let out?"
+
+A contemptuous grunt was the only reply.
+
+"Look here!" Arthur again took hold of the
+warder's arm, laughing. "It is no use for you to
+be cross to me, because I'm not going to get
+offended. I want to know about the others."
+
+"Which others?" growled Enrico, suddenly
+laying down the shirt he was folding. "Not Bolla,
+I suppose?"
+
+"Bolla and all the rest, of course. Enrico, what
+is the matter with you?"
+
+"Well, he's not likely to be let out in a hurry,
+poor lad, when a comrade has betrayed him.
+Ugh!" Enrico took up the shirt again in disgust.
+
+"Betrayed him? A comrade? Oh, how dreadful!"
+Arthur's eyes dilated with horror. Enrico
+turned quickly round.
+
+"Why, wasn't it you?"
+
+"I? Are you off your head, man? I?"
+
+"Well, they told him so yesterday at interrogation,
+anyhow. I'm very glad if it wasn't you, for I
+always thought you were rather a decent young
+fellow. This way!" Enrico stepped out into the
+corridor and Arthur followed him, a light breaking
+in upon the confusion of his mind.
+
+"They told Bolla I'd betrayed him? Of course
+they did! Why, man, they told me he had betrayed
+me. Surely Bolla isn't fool enough to
+believe that sort of stuff?"
+
+"Then it really isn't true?" Enrico stopped at
+the foot of the stairs and looked searchingly at
+Arthur, who merely shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Of course it's a lie."
+
+"Well, I'm glad to hear it, my lad, and I'll tell
+him you said so. But you see what they told him
+was that you had denounced him out of--well, out
+of jealousy, because of your both being sweet on
+the same girl."
+
+"It's a lie!" Arthur repeated the words in a
+quick, breathless whisper. A sudden, paralyzing
+fear had come over him. "The same girl--jealousy!"
+How could they know--how could they know?
+
+"Wait a minute, my lad." Enrico stopped in
+the corridor leading to the interrogation room,
+and spoke softly. "I believe you; but just tell me
+one thing. I know you're a Catholic; did you
+ever say anything in the confessional------"
+
+"It's a lie!" This time Arthur's voice had risen
+to a stifled cry.
+
+Enrico shrugged his shoulders and moved on
+again. "You know best, of course; but you
+wouldn't be the only young fool that's been taken
+in that way. There's a tremendous ado just now
+about a priest in Pisa that some of your friends
+have found out. They've printed a leaflet saying
+he's a spy."
+
+He opened the door of the interrogation room,
+and, seeing that Arthur stood motionless, staring
+blankly before him, pushed him gently across the
+threshold.
+
+"Good-afternoon, Mr. Burton," said the colonel,
+smiling and showing his teeth amiably. "I have
+great pleasure in congratulating you. An order
+for your release has arrived from Florence. Will
+you kindly sign this paper?"
+
+Arthur went up to him. "I want to know," he
+said in a dull voice, "who it was that betrayed
+me."
+
+The colonel raised his eyebrows with a smile.
+
+"Can't you guess? Think a minute."
+
+Arthur shook his head. The colonel put out
+both hands with a gesture of polite surprise.
+
+"Can't guess? Really? Why, you yourself,
+Mr. Burton. Who else could know your private
+love affairs?"
+
+Arthur turned away in silence. On the wall
+hung a large wooden crucifix; and his eyes wandered
+slowly to its face; but with no appeal in
+them, only a dim wonder at this supine and patient
+God that had no thunderbolt for a priest who betrayed
+the confessional.
+
+"Will you kindly sign this receipt for your
+papers?" said the colonel blandly; "and then I
+need not keep you any longer. I am sure you
+must be in a hurry to get home; and my time is
+very much taken up just now with the affairs of
+that foolish young man, Bolla, who tried your
+Christian forbearance so hard. I am afraid he
+will get a rather heavy sentence. Good-afternoon!"
+
+Arthur signed the receipt, took his papers, and
+went out in dead silence. He followed Enrico to
+the massive gate; and, without a word of farewell,
+descended to the water's edge, where a ferryman
+was waiting to take him across the moat. As he
+mounted the stone steps leading to the street, a
+girl in a cotton dress and straw hat ran up to him
+with outstretched hands.
+
+"Arthur! Oh, I'm so glad--I'm so glad!"
+
+He drew his hands away, shivering.
+
+"Jim!" he said at last, in a voice that did not
+seem to belong to him. "Jim!"
+
+"I've been waiting here for half an hour. They
+said you would come out at four. Arthur, why do
+you look at me like that? Something has happened!
+Arthur, what has come to you? Stop!"
+
+He had turned away, and was walking slowly
+down the street, as if he had forgotten her presence.
+Thoroughly frightened at his manner, she
+ran after him and caught him by the arm.
+
+"Arthur!"
+
+He stopped and looked up with bewildered eyes.
+She slipped her arm through his, and they walked
+on again for a moment in silence.
+
+"Listen, dear," she began softly; "you mustn't
+get so upset over this wretched business. I know
+it's dreadfully hard on you, but everybody understands."
+
+"What business?" he asked in the same dull
+voice.
+
+"I mean, about Bolla's letter."
+
+Arthur's face contracted painfully at the name.
+
+"I thought you wouldn't have heard of it,"
+Gemma went on; "but I suppose they've told
+you. Bolla must be perfectly mad to have imagined
+such a thing."
+
+"Such a thing----?"
+
+"You don't know about it, then? He has
+written a horrible letter, saying that you have told
+about the steamers, and got him arrested. It's
+perfectly absurd, of course; everyone that knows
+you sees that; it's only the people who don't know
+you that have been upset by it. Really, that's what
+I came here for--to tell you that no one in our
+group believes a word of it."
+
+"Gemma! But it's--it's true!"
+
+She shrank slowly away from him, and stood
+quite still, her eyes wide and dark with horror, her
+face as white as the kerchief at her neck. A great
+icy wave of silence seemed to have swept round
+them both, shutting them out, in a world apart,
+from the life and movement of the street.
+
+"Yes," he whispered at last; "the steamers--
+I spoke of that; and I said his name--oh, my God!
+my God! What shall I do?"
+
+He came to himself suddenly, realizing her presence
+and the mortal terror in her face. Yes, of
+course, she must think------
+
+"Gemma, you don't understand!" he burst out,
+moving nearer; but she recoiled with a sharp cry:
+
+"Don't touch me!"
+
+Arthur seized her right hand with sudden
+violence.
+
+"Listen, for God's sake! It was not my fault;
+I----"
+
+"Let go; let my hand go! Let go!"
+
+The next instant she wrenched her fingers away
+from his, and struck him across the cheek with her
+open hand.
+
+A kind of mist came over his eyes. For a little
+while he was conscious of nothing but Gemma's
+white and desperate face, and the right hand which
+she had fiercely rubbed on the skirt of her cotton
+dress. Then the daylight crept back again, and he
+looked round and saw that he was alone.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+IT had long been dark when Arthur rang at the
+front door of the great house in the Via Borra. He
+remembered that he had been wandering about
+the streets; but where, or why, or for how long, he
+had no idea. Julia's page opened the door, yawning,
+and grinned significantly at the haggard,
+stony face. It seemed to him a prodigious joke to
+have the young master come home from jail like
+a "drunk and disorderly" beggar. Arthur went
+upstairs. On the first floor he met Gibbons coming
+down with an air of lofty and solemn disapproval.
+He tried to pass with a muttered "Good
+evening"; but Gibbons was no easy person to get
+past against his will.
+
+"The gentlemen are out, sir," he said, looking
+critically at Arthur's rather neglected dress and
+hair. "They have gone with the mistress to an
+evening party, and will not be back till nearly
+twelve."
+
+Arthur looked at his watch; it was nine o'clock.
+Oh, yes! he would have time--plenty of time------
+
+"My mistress desired me to ask whether you
+would like any supper, sir; and to say that she
+hopes you will sit up for her, as she particularly
+wishes to speak to you this evening."
+
+"I don't want anything, thank you; you can
+tell her I have not gone to bed."
+
+He went up to his room. Nothing in it had
+been changed since his arrest; Montanelli's portrait
+was on the table where he had placed it, and
+the crucifix stood in the alcove as before. He
+paused a moment on the threshold, listening; but
+the house was quite still; evidently no one was
+coming to disturb him. He stepped softly into the
+room and locked the door.
+
+And so he had come to the end. There was
+nothing to think or trouble about; an importunate
+and useless consciousness to get rid of--and nothing
+more. It seemed a stupid, aimless kind of
+thing, somehow.
+
+He had not formed any resolve to commit suicide,
+nor indeed had he thought much about it;
+the thing was quite obvious and inevitable. He
+had even no definite idea as to what manner of
+death to choose; all that mattered was to be done
+with it quickly--to have it over and forget. He
+had no weapon in the room, not even a pocketknife;
+but that was of no consequence--a towel
+would do, or a sheet torn into strips.
+
+There was a large nail just over the window.
+That would do; but it must be firm to bear his
+weight. He got up on a chair to feel the nail; it
+was not quite firm, and he stepped down again and
+took a hammer from a drawer. He knocked in the
+nail, and was about to pull a sheet off his bed,
+when he suddenly remembered that he had not
+said his prayers. Of course, one must pray before
+dying; every Christian does that. There are even
+special prayers for a departing soul.
+
+He went into the alcove and knelt down before
+the crucifix. "Almighty and merciful God----"
+he began aloud; and with that broke off and said
+no more. Indeed, the world was grown so dull
+that there was nothing left to pray for--or against.
+And then, what did Christ know about a trouble
+of this kind--Christ, who had never suffered it?
+He had only been betrayed, like Bolla; He had
+never been tricked into betraying.
+
+Arthur rose, crossing himself from old habit.
+Approaching the table, he saw lying upon it a
+letter addressed to him, in Montanelli's handwriting.
+It was in pencil:
+
+
+"My Dear Boy: It is a great disappointment
+to me that I cannot see you on the day of your
+release; but I have been sent for to visit a dying
+man. I shall not get back till late at night. Come
+to me early to-morrow morning. In great haste,
+
+                                    "L. M."
+
+
+He put down the letter with a sigh; it did seem
+hard on the Padre.
+
+How the people had laughed and gossiped in the
+streets! Nothing was altered since the days when
+he had been alive. Not the least little one of all
+the daily trifles round him was changed because a
+human soul, a living human soul, had been struck
+down dead. It was all just the same as before.
+The water had plashed in the fountains; the sparrows
+had twittered under the eaves; just as they
+had done yesterday, just as they would do to-morrow.
+And as for him, he was dead--quite dead.
+
+He sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed his
+arms along the foot-rail, and rested his forehead
+upon them. There was plenty of time; and his
+head ached so--the very middle of the brain
+seemed to ache; it was all so dull and stupid--so
+utterly meaningless----
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+The front-door bell rang sharply, and he started
+up in a breathless agony of terror, with both hands
+at his throat. They had come back--he had sat
+there dreaming, and let the precious time slip
+away--and now he must see their faces and hear
+their cruel tongues--their sneers and comments--
+If only he had a knife------
+
+He looked desperately round the room. His
+mother's work-basket stood in a little cupboard;
+surely there would be scissors; he might sever an
+artery. No; the sheet and nail were safer, if he
+had time.
+
+He dragged the counterpane from his bed, and
+with frantic haste began tearing off a strip. The
+sound of footsteps came up the stairs. No; the
+strip was too wide; it would not tie firmly; and
+there must be a noose. He worked faster as the
+footsteps drew nearer; and the blood throbbed in
+his temples and roared in his ears. Quicker--
+quicker! Oh, God! five minutes more!
+
+There was a knock at the door. The strip of
+torn stuff dropped from his hands, and he sat quite
+still, holding his breath to listen. The handle of
+the door was tried; then Julia's voice called:
+
+"Arthur!"
+
+He stood up, panting.
+
+"Arthur, open the door, please; we are waiting."
+
+He gathered up the torn counterpane, threw it
+into a drawer, and hastily smoothed down the
+bed.
+
+"Arthur!" This time it was James who called,
+and the door-handle was shaken impatiently.
+"Are you asleep?"
+
+Arthur looked round the room, saw that everything
+was hidden, and unlocked the door.
+
+"I should think you might at least have obeyed
+my express request that you should sit up for us,
+Arthur," said Julia, sweeping into the room in a
+towering passion. "You appear to think it the
+proper thing for us to dance attendance for half
+an hour at your door----"
+
+"Four minutes, my dear," James mildly corrected,
+stepping into the room at the end of his
+wife's pink satin train. "I certainly think, Arthur,
+that it would have been more--becoming if----"
+
+"What do you want?" Arthur interrupted. He
+was standing with his hand upon the door, glancing
+furtively from one to the other like a trapped
+animal. But James was too obtuse and Julia too
+angry to notice the look.
+
+Mr. Burton placed a chair for his wife and sat
+down, carefully pulling up his new trousers at the
+knees. "Julia and I," he began, "feel it to be our
+duty to speak to you seriously about----"
+
+"I can't listen to-night; I--I'm not well. My
+head aches--you must wait."
+
+Arthur spoke in a strange, indistinct voice, with
+a confused and rambling manner. James looked
+round in surprise.
+
+"Is there anything the matter with you?" he
+asked anxiously, suddenly remembering that Arthur
+had come from a very hotbed of infection.
+"I hope you're not sickening for anything. You
+look quite feverish."
+
+"Nonsense!" Julia interrupted sharply. "It's
+only the usual theatricals, because he's ashamed to
+face us. Come here and sit down, Arthur."
+Arthur slowly crossed the room and sat down on
+the bed. "Yes?" he said wearily.
+
+Mr. Burton coughed, cleared his throat,
+smoothed his already immaculate beard, and began
+the carefully prepared speech over again:
+
+"I feel it to be my duty--my painful duty--to
+speak very seriously to you about your extraordinary
+behaviour in connecting yourself with--a--
+law-breakers and incendiaries and--a--persons of
+disreputable character. I believe you to have been,
+perhaps, more foolish than depraved--a----"
+
+He paused.
+
+"Yes?" Arthur said again.
+
+"Now, I do not wish to be hard on you," James
+went on, softening a little in spite of himself
+before the weary hopelessness of Arthur's manner.
+"I am quite willing to believe that you have been
+led away by bad companions, and to take into
+account your youth and inexperience and the--a--
+a--imprudent and--a--impulsive character which
+you have, I fear, inherited from your mother."
+
+Arthur's eyes wandered slowly to his mother's
+portrait and back again, but he did not speak.
+
+"But you will, I feel sure, understand," James
+continued, "that it is quite impossible for me to
+keep any longer in my house a person who has
+brought public disgrace upon a name so highly
+respected as ours."
+
+"Yes?" Arthur repeated once more.
+
+"Well?" said Julia sharply, closing her fan with
+a snap and laying it across her knee. "Are you
+going to have the goodness to say anything but
+'Yes,' Arthur?"
+
+"You will do as you think best, of course," he
+answered slowly, without moving. "It doesn't
+matter much either way."
+
+"Doesn't--matter?" James repeated, aghast;
+and his wife rose with a laugh.
+
+"Oh, it doesn't matter, doesn't it? Well, James,
+I hope you understand now how much gratitude
+you may expect in that quarter. I told you what
+would come of showing charity to Papist adventuresses
+and their----"
+
+"Hush, hush! Never mind that, my dear!"
+
+"It's all nonsense, James; we've had more than
+enough of this sentimentality! A love-child setting
+himself up as a member of the family--it's
+quite time he did know what his mother was!
+Why should we be saddled with the child of
+a Popish priest's amourettes? There, then--
+look!"
+
+She pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of her
+pocket and tossed it across the table to Arthur.
+He opened it; the writing was in his mother's
+hand, and was dated four months before his birth.
+It was a confession, addressed to her husband, and
+with two signatures.
+
+Arthur's eyes travelled slowly down the page,
+past the unsteady letters in which her name was
+written, to the strong, familiar signature: "Lorenzo
+Montanelli." For a moment he stared at
+the writing; then, without a word, refolded the
+paper and laid it down. James rose and took his
+wife by the arm.
+
+"There, Julia, that will do. Just go downstairs
+now; it's late, and I want to talk a little business
+with Arthur. It won't interest you."
+
+She glanced up at her husband; then back at
+Arthur, who was silently staring at the floor.
+
+"He seems half stupid," she whispered.
+
+When she had gathered up her train and left the
+room, James carefully shut the door and went back
+to his chair beside the table. Arthur sat as before,
+perfectly motionless and silent.
+
+"Arthur," James began in a milder tone, now
+Julia was not there to hear, "I am very sorry that
+this has come out. You might just as well not
+have known it. However, all that's over; and I
+am pleased to see that you can behave with such
+self-control. Julia is a--a little excited; ladies
+often--anyhow, I don't want to be too hard on
+you."
+
+He stopped to see what effect the kindly words
+had produced; but Arthur was quite motionless.
+
+"Of course, my dear boy," James went on after
+a moment, "this is a distressing story altogether,
+and the best thing we can do is to hold our tongues
+about it. My father was generous enough not to
+divorce your mother when she confessed her fall to
+him; he only demanded that the man who had led
+her astray should leave the country at once; and,
+as you know, he went to China as a missionary.
+For my part, I was very much against your having
+anything to do with him when he came back; but
+my father, just at the last, consented to let him
+teach you, on condition that he never attempted to
+see your mother. I must, in justice, acknowledge
+that I believe they both observed that condition
+faithfully to the end. It is a very deplorable
+business; but----"
+
+Arthur looked up. All the life and expression
+had gone out of his face; it was like a waxen
+mask.
+
+"D-don't you think," he said softly, with a curious
+stammering hesitation on the words, "th-that--all
+this--is--v-very--funny?"
+
+"FUNNY?" James pushed his chair away from
+the table, and sat staring at him, too much petrified
+for anger. "Funny! Arthur, are you mad?"
+
+Arthur suddenly threw back his head, and burst
+into a frantic fit of laughing.
+
+"Arthur!" exclaimed the shipowner, rising with
+dignity, "I am amazed at your levity!"
+
+There was no answer but peal after peal of
+laughter, so loud and boisterous that even James
+began to doubt whether there was not something
+more the matter here than levity.
+
+"Just like a hysterical woman," he muttered,
+turning, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders,
+to tramp impatiently up and down the room.
+"Really, Arthur, you're worse than Julia; there,
+stop laughing! I can't wait about here all night."
+
+He might as well have asked the crucifix to come
+down from its pedestal. Arthur was past caring
+for remonstrances or exhortations; he only
+laughed, and laughed, and laughed without end.
+
+"This is absurd!" said James, stopping at last
+in his irritated pacing to and fro. "You are evidently
+too much excited to be reasonable to-night.
+I can't talk business with you if you're going on
+that way. Come to me to-morrow morning after
+breakfast. And now you had better go to bed.
+Good-night."
+
+He went out, slamming the door. "Now for the
+hysterics downstairs," he muttered as he tramped
+noisily away. "I suppose it'll be tears there!"
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+The frenzied laughter died on Arthur's lips.
+He snatched up the hammer from the table and
+flung himself upon the crucifix.
+
+With the crash that followed he came suddenly
+to his senses, standing before the empty pedestal,
+the hammer still in his hand, and the fragments of
+the broken image scattered on the floor about his
+feet.
+
+He threw down the hammer. "So easy!" he
+said, and turned away. "And what an idiot
+I am!"
+
+He sat down by the table, panting heavily for
+breath, and rested his forehead on both hands.
+Presently he rose, and, going to the wash-stand,
+poured a jugful of cold water over his head and
+face. He came back quite composed, and sat down
+to think.
+
+And it was for such things as these--for these
+false and slavish people, these dumb and soulless
+gods--that he had suffered all these tortures of
+shame and passion and despair; had made a rope
+to hang himself, forsooth, because one priest was
+a liar. As if they were not all liars! Well, all that
+was done with; he was wiser now. He need only
+shake off these vermin and begin life afresh.
+
+There were plenty of goods vessels in the docks;
+it would be an easy matter to stow himself away
+in one of them, and get across to Canada, Australia,
+Cape Colony--anywhere. It was no matter
+for the country, if only it was far enough; and, as
+for the life out there, he could see, and if it did not
+suit him he could try some other place.
+
+He took out his purse. Only thirty-three paoli;
+but his watch was a good one. That would help
+him along a bit; and in any case it was of no
+consequence--he should pull through somehow. But
+they would search for him, all these people; they
+would be sure to make inquiries at the docks. No;
+he must put them on a false scent--make them
+believe him dead; then he should be quite free--
+quite free. He laughed softly to himself at the
+thought of the Burtons searching for his corpse.
+What a farce the whole thing was!
+
+Taking a sheet of paper, he wrote the first words
+that occurred to him:
+
+
+"I believed in you as I believed in God. God
+is a thing made of clay, that I can smash with a
+hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie."
+
+
+He folded up the paper, directed it to Montanelli,
+and, taking another sheet, wrote across it:
+"Look for my body in Darsena." Then he put on
+his hat and went out of the room. Passing his
+mother's portrait, he looked up with a laugh
+and a shrug of his shoulders. She, too, had lied
+to him.
+
+He crept softly along the corridor, and, slipping
+back the door-bolts, went out on to the great,
+dark, echoing marble staircase. It seemed to
+yawn beneath him like a black pit as he descended.
+
+He crossed the courtyard, treading cautiously
+for fear of waking Gian Battista, who slept on the
+ground floor. In the wood-cellar at the back was
+a little grated window, opening on the canal and
+not more than four feet from the ground. He
+remembered that the rusty grating had broken away
+on one side; by pushing a little he could make an
+aperture wide enough to climb out by.
+
+The grating was strong, and he grazed his
+hands badly and tore the sleeve of his coat; but
+that was no matter. He looked up and down the
+street; there was no one in sight, and the canal
+lay black and silent, an ugly trench between two
+straight and slimy walls. The untried universe
+might prove a dismal hole, but it could hardly be
+more flat and sordid than the corner which he was
+leaving behind him. There was nothing to regret;
+nothing to look back upon. It had been a pestilent
+little stagnant world, full of squalid lies and clumsy
+cheats and foul-smelling ditches that were not
+even deep enough to drown a man.
+
+He walked along the canal bank, and came out
+upon the tiny square by the Medici palace. It was
+here that Gemma had run up to him with her vivid
+face, her outstretched hands. Here was the little
+flight of wet stone steps leading down to the moat;
+and there the fortress scowling across the strip of
+dirty water. He had never noticed before how
+squat and mean it looked.
+
+Passing through the narrow streets he reached
+the Darsena shipping-basin, where he took off his
+hat and flung it into the water. It would be
+found, of course, when they dragged for his body.
+Then he walked on along the water's edge, considering
+perplexedly what to do next. He must
+contrive to hide on some ship; but it was a difficult
+thing to do. His only chance would be to
+get on to the huge old Medici breakwater and
+walk along to the further end of it. There was a
+low-class tavern on the point; probably he should
+find some sailor there who could be bribed.
+
+But the dock gates were closed. How should
+he get past them, and past the customs officials?
+His stock of money would not furnish the high
+bribe that they would demand for letting him
+through at night and without a passport. Besides
+they might recognize him.
+
+As he passed the bronze statue of the "Four
+Moors," a man's figure emerged from an old house
+on the opposite side of the shipping basin and
+approached the bridge. Arthur slipped at once
+into the deep shadow behind the group of statuary
+and crouched down in the darkness, peeping
+cautiously round the corner of the pedestal.
+
+It was a soft spring night, warm and starlit.
+The water lapped against the stone walls of the
+basin and swirled in gentle eddies round the steps
+with a sound as of low laughter. Somewhere near
+a chain creaked, swinging slowly to and fro. A
+huge iron crane towered up, tall and melancholy
+in the dimness. Black on a shimmering expanse of
+starry sky and pearly cloud-wreaths, the figures
+of the fettered, struggling slaves stood out in
+vain and vehement protest against a merciless
+doom.
+
+The man approached unsteadily along the water
+side, shouting an English street song. He was
+evidently a sailor returning from a carouse at some
+tavern. No one else was within sight. As he
+drew near, Arthur stood up and stepped into the
+middle of the roadway. The sailor broke off in
+his song with an oath, and stopped short.
+
+"I want to speak to you," Arthur said in
+Italian. "Do you understand me?"
+
+The man shook his head. "It's no use talking
+that patter to me," he said; then, plunging into
+bad French, asked sullenly: "What do you want?
+Why can't you let me pass?"
+
+"Just come out of the light here a minute; I
+want to speak to you."
+
+"Ah! wouldn't you like it? Out of the light!
+Got a knife anywhere about you?"
+
+"No, no, man! Can't you see I only want your
+help? I'll pay you for it?"
+
+"Eh? What? And dressed like a swell,
+too------" The sailor had relapsed into English.
+He now moved into the shadow and leaned against
+the railing of the pedestal.
+
+"Well," he said, returning to his atrocious
+French; "and what is it you want?"
+
+"I want to get away from here----"
+
+"Aha! Stowaway! Want me to hide you?
+Been up to something, I suppose. Stuck a knife
+into somebody, eh? Just like these foreigners!
+And where might you be wanting to go? Not
+to the police station, I fancy?"
+
+He laughed in his tipsy way, and winked one eye.
+
+"What vessel do you belong to?"
+
+"Carlotta--Leghorn to Buenos Ayres; shipping
+oil one way and hides the other. She's over
+there"--pointing in the direction of the breakwater
+--"beastly old hulk!"
+
+"Buenos Ayres--yes! Can you hide me anywhere on board?"
+
+"How much can you give?"
+
+"Not very much; I have only a few paoli."
+
+"No. Can't do it under fifty--and cheap at
+that, too--a swell like you."
+
+"What do you mean by a swell? If you like my
+clothes you may change with me, but I can't give
+you more money than I have got."
+
+"You have a watch there. Hand it over."
+
+Arthur took out a lady's gold watch, delicately
+chased and enamelled, with the initials "G. B." on
+the back. It had been his mother's--but what
+did that matter now?
+
+"Ah!" remarked the sailor with a quick glance
+at it. "Stolen, of course! Let me look!"
+
+Arthur drew his hand away. "No," he said.
+"I will give you the watch when we are on board;
+not before."
+
+"You're not such a fool as you look, after all!
+I'll bet it's your first scrape, though, eh?"
+
+"That is my business. Ah! there comes the
+watchman."
+
+They crouched down behind the group of statuary
+and waited till the watchman had passed.
+Then the sailor rose, and, telling Arthur to follow
+him, walked on, laughing foolishly to himself.
+Arthur followed in silence.
+
+The sailor led him back to the little irregular
+square by the Medici palace; and, stopping in a
+dark corner, mumbled in what was intended for a
+cautious whisper:
+
+"Wait here; those soldier fellows will see you
+if you come further."
+
+"What are you going to do?"
+
+"Get you some clothes. I'm not going to take
+you on board with that bloody coatsleeve."
+
+Arthur glanced down at the sleeve which had
+been torn by the window grating. A little blood
+from the grazed hand had fallen upon it. Evidently
+the man thought him a murderer. Well,
+it was of no consequence what people thought.
+
+After some time the sailor came back, triumphant,
+with a bundle under his arm.
+
+"Change," he whispered; "and make haste
+about it. I must get back, and that old Jew has
+kept me bargaining and haggling for half an
+hour."
+
+Arthur obeyed, shrinking with instinctive disgust
+at the first touch of second-hand clothes.
+Fortunately these, though rough and coarse, were
+fairly clean. When he stepped into the light in
+his new attire, the sailor looked at him with tipsy
+solemnity and gravely nodded his approval.
+
+"You'll do," he said. "This way, and don't
+make a noise." Arthur, carrying his discarded
+clothes, followed him through a labyrinth of winding
+canals and dark narrow alleys; the mediaeval
+slum quarter which the people of Leghorn call
+"New Venice." Here and there a gloomy old
+palace, solitary among the squalid houses and
+filthy courts, stood between two noisome ditches,
+with a forlorn air of trying to preserve its ancient
+dignity and yet of knowing the effort to be a hopeless
+one. Some of the alleys, he knew, were
+notorious dens of thieves, cut-throats, and smugglers;
+others were merely wretched and poverty-stricken.
+
+Beside one of the little bridges the sailor
+stopped, and, looking round to see that they were
+not observed, descended a flight of stone steps to
+a narrow landing stage. Under the bridge was a
+dirty, crazy old boat. Sharply ordering Arthur
+to jump in and lie down, he seated himself in the
+boat and began rowing towards the harbour's
+mouth. Arthur lay still on the wet and leaky
+planks, hidden by the clothes which the man had
+thrown over him, and peeping out from under
+them at the familiar streets and houses.
+
+Presently they passed under a bridge and
+entered that part of the canal which forms a moat
+for the fortress. The massive walls rose out of
+the water, broad at the base and narrowing upward
+to the frowning turrets. How strong, how
+threatening they had seemed to him a few hours
+ago! And now----
+
+He laughed softly as he lay in the bottom of the
+boat.
+
+"Hold your noise," the sailor whispered, "and
+keep your head covered! We're close to the
+custom house."
+
+Arthur drew the clothes over his head. A few
+yards further on the boat stopped before a row of
+masts chained together, which lay across the surface
+of the canal, blocking the narrow waterway
+between the custom house and the fortress wall.
+A sleepy official came out yawning and bent over
+the water's edge with a lantern in his hand.
+
+"Passports, please."
+
+The sailor handed up his official papers.
+Arthur, half stifled under the clothes, held his
+breath, listening.
+
+"A nice time of night to come back to your
+ship!" grumbled the customs official. "Been out
+on the spree, I suppose. What's in your boat?"
+
+"Old clothes. Got them cheap." He held up
+the waistcoat for inspection. The official, lowering
+his lantern, bent over, straining his eyes to see.
+
+"It's all right, I suppose. You can pass."
+
+He lifted the barrier and the boat moved slowly
+out into the dark, heaving water. At a little distance
+Arthur sat up and threw off the clothes.
+
+"Here she is," the sailor whispered, after rowing
+for some time in silence. "Keep close behind me
+and hold your tongue."
+
+He clambered up the side of a huge black monster,
+swearing under his breath at the clumsiness
+of the landsman, though Arthur's natural agility
+rendered him less awkward than most people
+would have been in his place. Once safely on
+board, they crept cautiously between dark masses
+of rigging and machinery, and came at last to a
+hatchway, which the sailor softly raised.
+
+"Down here!" he whispered. "I'll be back in
+a minute."
+
+The hold was not only damp and dark, but intolerably
+foul. At first Arthur instinctively drew
+back, half choked by the stench of raw hides and
+rancid oil. Then he remembered the "punishment
+cell," and descended the ladder, shrugging
+his shoulders. Life is pretty much the same
+everywhere, it seemed; ugly, putrid, infested with
+vermin, full of shameful secrets and dark corners.
+Still, life is life, and he must make the best of it.
+
+In a few minutes the sailor came back with
+something in his hands which Arthur could not
+distinctly see for the darkness.
+
+"Now, give me the watch and money. Make
+haste!"
+
+Taking advantage of the darkness, Arthur succeeded
+in keeping back a few coins.
+
+"You must get me something to eat," he said;
+"I am half starved."
+
+"I've brought it. Here you are." The sailor
+handed him a pitcher, some hard biscuit, and a
+piece of salt pork. "Now mind, you must hide
+in this empty barrel, here, when the customs officers
+come to examine to-morrow morning. Keep
+as still as a mouse till we're right out at sea. I'll
+let you know when to come out. And won't you
+just catch it when the captain sees you--that's
+all! Got the drink safe? Good-night!"
+
+The hatchway closed, and Arthur, setting the
+precious "drink" in a safe place, climbed on to an
+oil barrel to eat his pork and biscuit. Then he
+curled himself up on the dirty floor; and, for the
+first time since his babyhood, settled himself to
+sleep without a prayer. The rats scurried round
+him in the darkness; but neither their persistent
+noise nor the swaying of the ship, nor the nauseating
+stench of oil, nor the prospect of to-morrow's
+sea-sickness, could keep him awake. He
+cared no more for them all than for the broken and
+dishonoured idols that only yesterday had been
+the gods of his adoration.
+
+
+
+
+
+PART II.
+
+----------
+
+THIRTEEN YEARS LATER.
+
+----------
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+ONE evening in July, 1846, a few acquaintances
+met at Professor Fabrizi's house in Florence to
+discuss plans for future political work.
+
+Several of them belonged to the Mazzinian
+party and would have been satisfied with nothing
+less than a democratic Republic and a United
+Italy. Others were Constitutional Monarchists
+and Liberals of various shades. On one point,
+however, they were all agreed; that of dissatisfaction
+with the Tuscan censorship; and the popular
+professor had called the meeting in the hope that,
+on this one subject at least, the representatives
+of the dissentient parties would be able to get
+through an hour's discussion without quarrelling.
+
+Only a fortnight had elapsed since the famous
+amnesty which Pius IX. had granted, on his accession,
+to political offenders in the Papal States; but
+the wave of liberal enthusiasm caused by it was
+already spreading over Italy. In Tuscany even
+the government appeared to have been affected
+by the astounding event. It had occurred to
+Fabrizi and a few other leading Florentines that
+this was a propitious moment for a bold effort to
+reform the press-laws.
+
+"Of course," the dramatist Lega had said, when
+the subject was first broached to him; "it would
+be impossible to start a newspaper till we can
+get the press-law changed; we should not bring
+out the first number. But we may be able to run
+some pamphlets through the censorship already;
+and the sooner we begin the sooner we shall get
+the law changed."
+
+He was now explaining in Fabrizi's library his
+theory of the line which should be taken by liberal
+writers at the moment.
+
+"There is no doubt," interposed one of the
+company, a gray-haired barrister with a rather
+drawling manner of speech, "that in some way
+we must take advantage of the moment. We
+shall not see such a favourable one again for bringing
+forward serious reforms. But I doubt the
+pamphlets doing any good. They will only irritate
+and frighten the government instead of winning
+it over to our side, which is what we really
+want to do. If once the authorities begin to think
+of us as dangerous agitators our chance of getting
+their help is gone."
+
+"Then what would you have us do?"
+
+"Petition."
+
+"To the Grand Duke?"
+
+"Yes; for an augmentation of the liberty of the
+press."
+
+A keen-looking, dark man sitting by the window
+turned his head round with a laugh.
+
+"You'll get a lot out of petitioning!" he said.
+"I should have thought the result of the Renzi
+case was enough to cure anybody of going to work
+that way."
+
+"My dear sir, I am as much grieved as you are
+that we did not succeed in preventing the extradition
+of Renzi. But really--I do not wish to
+hurt the sensibilities of anyone, but I cannot help
+thinking that our failure in that case was largely
+due to the impatience and vehemence of some
+persons among our number. I should certainly
+hesitate----"
+
+"As every Piedmontese always does," the dark
+man interrupted sharply. "I don't know where
+the vehemence and impatience lay, unless you
+found them in the strings of meek petitions we
+sent in. That may be vehemence for Tuscany or
+Piedmont, but we should not call it particularly
+vehement in Naples."
+
+"Fortunately," remarked the Piedmontese,
+"Neapolitan vehemence is peculiar to Naples."
+
+"There, there, gentlemen, that will do!" the
+professor put in. "Neapolitan customs are very
+good things in their way and Piedmontese customs
+in theirs; but just now we are in Tuscany,
+and the Tuscan custom is to stick to the
+matter in hand. Grassini votes for petitions and
+Galli against them. What do you think, Dr.
+Riccardo?"
+
+"I see no harm in petitions, and if Grassini gets
+one up I'll sign it with all the pleasure in life.
+But I don't think mere petitioning and nothing
+else will accomplish much. Why can't we have
+both petitions and pamphlets?"
+
+"Simply because the pamphlets will put the
+government into a state of mind in which it won't
+grant the petitions," said Grassini.
+
+"It won't do that anyhow." The Neapolitan
+rose and came across to the table. "Gentlemen,
+you're on the wrong tack. Conciliating the government
+will do no good. What we must do is to
+rouse the people."
+
+"That's easier said than done; how are you
+going to start?"
+
+"Fancy asking Galli that! Of course he'd start
+by knocking the censor on the head."
+
+"No, indeed, I shouldn't," said Galli stoutly.
+"You always think if a man comes from down
+south he must believe in no argument but cold
+steel."
+
+"Well, what do you propose, then? Sh! Attention,
+gentlemen! Galli has a proposal to make."
+
+The whole company, which had broken up into
+little knots of twos and threes, carrying on separate
+discussions, collected round the table to
+listen. Galli raised his hands in expostulation.
+
+"No, gentlemen, it is not a proposal; it is merely
+a suggestion. It appears to me that there is a
+great practical danger in all this rejoicing over
+the new Pope. People seem to think that, because
+he has struck out a new line and granted
+this amnesty, we have only to throw ourselves--
+all of us, the whole of Italy--into his arms and he
+will carry us to the promised land. Now, I am
+second to no one in admiration of the Pope's
+behaviour; the amnesty was a splendid action."
+
+"I am sure His Holiness ought to feel flattered----"
+Grassini began contemptuously.
+
+"There, Grassini, do let the man speak!"
+Riccardo interrupted in his turn. "It's a most
+extraordinary thing that you two never can
+keep from sparring like a cat and dog. Get on,
+Galli!"
+
+"What I wanted to say is this," continued the
+Neapolitan. "The Holy Father, undoubtedly, is
+acting with the best intentions; but how far he
+will succeed in carrying his reforms is another
+question. Just now it's smooth enough and, of
+course, the reactionists all over Italy will lie quiet
+for a month or two till the excitement about the
+amnesty blows over; but they are not likely to
+let the power be taken out of their hands without
+a fight, and my own belief is that before the winter
+is half over we shall have Jesuits and Gregorians
+and Sanfedists and all the rest of the crew about
+our ears, plotting and intriguing, and poisoning
+off everybody they can't bribe."
+
+"That's likely enough."
+
+"Very well, then; shall we wait here, meekly
+sending in petitions, till Lambruschini and his
+pack have persuaded the Grand Duke to put us
+bodily under Jesuit rule, with perhaps a few Austrian
+hussars to patrol the streets and keep us
+in order; or shall we forestall them and take advantage
+of their momentary discomfiture to strike
+the first blow?"
+
+"Tell us first what blow you propose?"
+
+"I would suggest that we start an organized
+propaganda and agitation against the Jesuits."
+
+"A pamphleteering declaration of war, in
+fact?"
+
+"Yes; exposing their intrigues, ferreting out
+their secrets, and calling upon the people to make
+common cause against them."
+
+"But there are no Jesuits here to expose."
+
+"Aren't there? Wait three months and see
+how many we shall have. It'll be too late to keep
+them out then."
+
+"But really to rouse the town against the
+Jesuits one must speak plainly; and if you do that
+how will you evade the censorship?"
+
+"I wouldn't evade it; I would defy it."
+
+"You would print the pamphlets anonymously?
+That's all very well, but the fact is, we have all
+seen enough of the clandestine press to know----"
+
+"I did not mean that. I would print the pamphlets
+openly, with our names and addresses, and
+let them prosecute us if they dare."
+
+"The project is a perfectly mad one," Grassini
+exclaimed. "It is simply putting one's head into
+the lion's mouth out of sheer wantonness."
+
+"Oh, you needn't be afraid!" Galli cut in
+sharply; "we shouldn't ask you to go to prison
+for our pamphlets."
+
+"Hold your tongue, Galli!" said Riccardo.
+"It's not a question of being afraid; we're all as
+ready as you are to go to prison if there's any good
+to be got by it, but it is childish to run into danger
+for nothing. For my part, I have an amendment
+to the proposal to suggest."
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"I think we might contrive, with care, to fight
+the Jesuits without coming into collision with the
+censorship."
+
+"I don't see how you are going to manage it."
+
+"I think that it is possible to clothe what one
+has to say in so roundabout a form that----"
+
+"That the censorship won't understand it?
+And then you'll expect every poor artisan and
+labourer to find out the meaning by the light of
+the ignorance and stupidity that are in him! That
+doesn't sound very practicable."
+
+"Martini, what do you think?" asked the professor,
+turning to a broad-shouldered man with
+a great brown beard, who was sitting beside him.
+
+"I think that I will reserve my opinion till I
+have more facts to go upon. It's a question of
+trying experiments and seeing what comes of them."
+
+"And you, Sacconi?"
+
+"I should like to hear what Signora Bolla has
+to say. Her suggestions are always valuable."
+
+Everyone turned to the only woman in the
+room, who had been sitting on the sofa, resting
+her chin on one hand and listening in silence to
+the discussion. She had deep, serious black eyes,
+but as she raised them now there was an unmistakable
+gleam of amusement in them.
+
+"I am afraid," she said; "that I disagree with
+everybody."
+
+"You always do, and the worst of it is that you
+are always right," Riccardo put in.
+
+"I think it is quite true that we must fight the
+Jesuits somehow; and if we can't do it with one
+weapon we must with another. But mere defiance
+is a feeble weapon and evasion a cumbersome
+one. As for petitioning, that is a child's toy."
+
+"I hope, signora," Grassini interposed, with
+a solemn face; "that you are not suggesting such
+methods as--assassination?"
+
+Martini tugged at his big moustache and Galli
+sniggered outright. Even the grave young
+woman could not repress a smile.
+
+"Believe me," she said, "that if I were ferocious
+enough to think of such things I should not be
+childish enough to talk about them. But the
+deadliest weapon I know is ridicule. If you can
+once succeed in rendering the Jesuits ludicrous,
+in making people laugh at them and their claims,
+you have conquered them without bloodshed."
+
+"I believe you are right, as far as that goes,"
+Fabrizi said; "but I don't see how you are going
+to carry the thing through."
+
+"Why should we not be able to carry it
+through?" asked Martini. "A satirical thing has
+a better chance of getting over the censorship
+difficulty than a serious one; and, if it must be
+cloaked, the average reader is more likely to find
+out the double meaning of an apparently silly joke
+than of a scientific or economic treatise."
+
+"Then is your suggestion, signora, that we
+should issue satirical pamphlets, or attempt to run
+a comic paper? That last, I am sure, the censorship
+would never allow."
+
+"I don't mean exactly either. I believe a series
+of small satirical leaflets, in verse or prose, to be
+sold cheap or distributed free about the streets,
+would be very useful. If we could find a clever
+artist who would enter into the spirit of the thing,
+we might have them illustrated."
+
+"It's a capital idea, if only one could carry it
+out; but if the thing is to be done at all it must
+be well done. We should want a first-class satirist;
+and where are we to get him?"
+
+"You see," added Lega, "most of us are
+serious writers; and, with all respect to the company,
+I am afraid that a general attempt to be
+humorous would present the spectacle of an elephant
+trying to dance the tarantella."
+
+"I never suggested that we should all rush into
+work for which we are unfitted. My idea was
+that we should try to find a really gifted satirist--
+there must be one to be got somewhere in Italy,
+surely--and offer to provide the necessary funds.
+Of course we should have to know something of
+the man and make sure that he would work on
+lines with which we could agree."
+
+"But where are you going to find him? I can
+count up the satirists of any real talent on the
+fingers of one hand; and none of them are available.
+Giusti wouldn't accept; he is fully occupied
+as it is. There are one or two good men in
+Lombardy, but they write only in the Milanese
+dialect----"
+
+"And moreover," said Grassini, "the Tuscan
+people can be influenced in better ways than this.
+I am sure that it would be felt as, to say the least,
+a want of political savoir faire if we were to treat
+this solemn question of civil and religious liberty
+as a subject for trifling. Florence is not a mere
+wilderness of factories and money-getting like
+London, nor a haunt of idle luxury like Paris. It
+is a city with a great history------"
+
+"So was Athens," she interrupted, smiling;
+"but it was 'rather sluggish from its size and
+needed a gadfly to rouse it'----"
+
+Riccardo struck his hand upon the table.
+"Why, we never thought of the Gadfly! The very man!"
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"The Gadfly--Felice Rivarez. Don't you remember
+him? One of Muratori's band that came
+down from the Apennines three years ago?"
+
+"Oh, you knew that set, didn't you? I remember
+your travelling with them when they went on
+to Paris."
+
+"Yes; I went as far as Leghorn to see Rivarez
+off for Marseilles. He wouldn't stop in Tuscany;
+he said there was nothing left to do but laugh,
+once the insurrection had failed, and so he had
+better go to Paris. No doubt he agreed with
+Signor Grassini that Tuscany is the wrong place
+to laugh in. But I am nearly sure he would come
+back if we asked him, now that there is a chance
+of doing something in Italy."
+
+"What name did you say?"
+
+"Rivarez. He's a Brazilian, I think. At any
+rate, I know he has lived out there. He is one of
+the wittiest men I ever came across. Heaven
+knows we had nothing to be merry over, that week
+in Leghorn; it was enough to break one's heart to
+look at poor Lambertini; but there was no keeping
+one's countenance when Rivarez was in the
+room; it was one perpetual fire of absurdities. He
+had a nasty sabre-cut across the face, too; I
+remember sewing it up. He's an odd creature;
+but I believe he and his nonsense kept some of
+those poor lads from breaking down altogether."
+
+"Is that the man who writes political skits
+in the French papers under the name of 'Le Taon'?"
+
+"Yes; short paragraphs mostly, and comic
+feuilletons. The smugglers up in the Apennines
+called him 'the Gadfly' because of his tongue;
+and he took the nickname to sign his work
+with."
+
+"I know something about this gentleman,"
+said Grassini, breaking in upon the conversation
+in his slow and stately manner; "and I cannot say
+that what I have heard is much to his credit. He
+undoubtedly possesses a certain showy, superficial
+cleverness, though I think his abilities have been
+exaggerated; and possibly he is not lacking in
+physical courage; but his reputation in Paris and
+Vienna is, I believe, very far from spotless. He
+appears to be a gentleman of--a--a--many adventures
+and unknown antecedents. It is said that he
+was picked up out of charity by Duprez's expedition
+somewhere in the wilds of tropical South
+America, in a state of inconceivable savagery and
+degradation. I believe he has never satisfactorily
+explained how he came to be in such a condition.
+As for the rising in the Apennines, I fear it is no
+
+
+101
+
+secret that persons of all characters took part in
+that unfortunate affair. The men who were executed
+in Bologna are known to have been nothing
+but common malefactors; and the character of
+many who escaped will hardly bear description.
+Without doubt, SOME of the participators were
+men of high character----"
+
+"Some of them were the intimate friends of
+several persons in this room!" Riccardo interrupted,
+with an angry ring in his voice. "It's all
+very well to be particular and exclusive, Grassini;
+but these 'common malefactors' died for their
+belief, which is more than you or I have done as
+yet."
+
+"And another time when people tell you the
+stale gossip of Paris," added Galli, "you can tell
+them from me that they are mistaken about the
+Duprez expedition. I know Duprez's adjutant,
+Martel, personally, and have heard the whole story
+from him. It's true that they found Rivarez
+stranded out there. He had been taken prisoner
+in the war, fighting for the Argentine Republic,
+and had escaped. He was wandering about the
+country in various disguises, trying to get back
+to Buenos Ayres. But the story of their taking
+him on out of charity is a pure fabrication. Their
+interpreter had fallen ill and been obliged to turn
+back; and not one of the Frenchmen could speak
+the native languages; so they offered him the post,
+and he spent the whole three years with them,
+exploring the tributaries of the Amazon. Martel
+told me he believed they never would have got
+through the expedition at all if it had not been
+for Rivarez."
+
+"Whatever he may be," said Fabrizi; "there
+must be something remarkable about a man who
+could lay his 'come hither' on two old campaigners
+like Martel and Duprez as he seems to have
+done. What do you think, signora?"
+
+"I know nothing about the matter; I was in
+England when the fugitives passed through Tuscany.
+But I should think that if the companions
+who were with a man on a three years' expedition
+in savage countries, and the comrades who were
+with him through an insurrection, think well of
+him, that is recommendation enough to counterbalance
+a good deal of boulevard gossip."
+
+"There is no question about the opinion his
+comrades had of him," said Riccardo. "From
+Muratori and Zambeccari down to the roughest
+mountaineers they were all devoted to him.
+Moreover, he is a personal friend of Orsini. It's
+quite true, on the other hand, that there are endless
+cock-and-bull stories of a not very pleasant
+kind going about concerning him in Paris; but if
+a man doesn't want to make enemies he shouldn't
+become a political satirist."
+
+"I'm not quite sure," interposed Lega; "but
+it seems to me that I saw him once when
+the refugees were here. Was he not hunchbacked,
+or crooked, or something of that kind?"
+
+The professor had opened a drawer in his writing-table
+and was turning over a heap of papers.
+"I think I have his police description somewhere
+here," he said. "You remember when they escaped
+and hid in the mountain passes their personal
+appearance was posted up everywhere, and
+that Cardinal--what's the scoundrel's name?--
+Spinola, offered a reward for their heads."
+
+"There was a splendid story about Rivarez and
+that police paper, by the way. He put on a
+soldier's old uniform and tramped across country
+as a carabineer wounded in the discharge of his
+duty and trying to find his company. He actually
+got Spinola's search-party to give him a lift, and
+rode the whole day in one of their waggons,
+telling them harrowing stories of how he had been
+taken captive by the rebels and dragged off into
+their haunts in the mountains, and of the fearful
+tortures that he had suffered at their hands. They
+showed him the description paper, and he told
+them all the rubbish he could think of about 'the
+fiend they call the Gadfly.' Then at night, when
+they were asleep, he poured a bucketful of water
+into their powder and decamped, with his pockets
+full of provisions and ammunition------"
+
+"Ah, here's the paper," Fabrizi broke in: "'Felice
+Rivarez, called: The Gadfly. Age, about 30;
+birthplace and parentage, unknown, probably
+South American; profession, journalist. Short;
+black hair; black beard; dark skin; eyes, blue;
+forehead, broad and square; nose, mouth, chin------'
+Yes, here it is: 'Special marks: right foot lame;
+left arm twisted; two ringers missing on left hand;
+recent sabre-cut across face; stammers.' Then
+there's a note put: 'Very expert shot; care should
+be taken in arresting.'"
+
+"It's an extraordinary thing that he can have
+managed to deceive the search-party with such a
+formidable list of identification marks."
+
+"It was nothing but sheer audacity that carried
+him through, of course. If it had once occurred
+to them to suspect him he would have been lost.
+But the air of confiding innocence that he can put
+on when he chooses would bring a man through
+anything. Well, gentlemen, what do you think of
+the proposal? Rivarez seems to be pretty well
+known to several of the company. Shall we suggest
+to him that we should be glad of his help
+here or not?"
+
+"I think," said Fabrizi, "that he might be
+sounded upon the subject, just to find out whether
+he would be inclined to think of the plan."
+
+"Oh, he'll be inclined, you may be sure, once
+it's a case of fighting the Jesuits; he is the most
+savage anti-clerical I ever met; in fact, he's rather
+rabid on the point."
+
+"Then will you write, Riccardo?"
+
+"Certainly. Let me see, where is he now? In
+Switzerland, I think. He's the most restless
+being; always flitting about. But as for the pamphlet
+question----"
+
+They plunged into a long and animated discussion.
+When at last the company began to disperse Martini
+went up to the quiet young woman.
+
+"I will see you home, Gemma."
+
+"Thanks; I want to have a business talk with
+you."
+
+"Anything wrong with the addresses?" he
+asked softly.
+
+"Nothing serious; but I think it is time to make
+a few alterations. Two letters have been stopped
+in the post this week. They were both quite unimportant,
+and it may have been accidental; but
+we cannot afford to have any risks. If once the
+police have begun to suspect any of our addresses,
+they must be changed immediately."
+
+"I will come in about that to-morrow. I am
+not going to talk business with you to-night;
+you look tired."
+
+"I am not tired."
+
+"Then you are depressed again."
+
+"Oh, no; not particularly."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+"Is the mistress in, Katie?"
+
+"Yes, sir; she is dressing. If you'll just step
+into the parlour she will be down in a few
+minutes."
+
+Katie ushered the visitor in with the cheerful
+friendliness of a true Devonshire girl. Martini
+was a special favourite of hers. He spoke English,
+like a foreigner, of course, but still quite respectably;
+and he never sat discussing politics at the top
+of his voice till one in the morning, when the mistress
+was tired, as some visitors had a way of
+doing. Moreover, he had come to Devonshire to
+help the mistress in her trouble, when her baby
+was dead and her husband dying there; and ever
+since that time the big, awkward, silent man had
+been to Katie as much "one of the family" as was
+the lazy black cat which now ensconced itself upon
+his knee. Pasht, for his part, regarded Martini
+as a useful piece of household furniture. This
+visitor never trod upon his tail, or puffed tobacco
+smoke into his eyes, or in any way obtruded upon
+his consciousness an aggressive biped personality.
+He behaved as a mere man should: provided a
+comfortable knee to lie upon and purr, and at table
+never forgot that to look on while human beings
+eat fish is not interesting for a cat. The friendship
+between them was of old date. Once, when
+Pasht was a kitten and his mistress too ill to think
+about him, he had come from England under Martini's
+care, tucked away in a basket. Since then,
+long experience had convinced him that this
+clumsy human bear was no fair-weather friend.
+
+"How snug you look, you two!" said Gemma,
+coming into the room. "One would think you
+had settled yourselves for the evening."
+
+Martini carefully lifted the cat off his knee. "I
+came early," he said, "in the hope that you will
+give me some tea before we start. There will
+probably be a frightful crush, and Grassini won't
+give us any sensible supper--they never do in
+those fashionable houses."
+
+"Come now!" she said, laughing; "that's as
+bad as Galli! Poor Grassini has quite enough sins
+of his own to answer for without having his wife's
+imperfect housekeeping visited upon his head.
+As for the tea, it will be ready in a minute. Katie
+has been making some Devonshire cakes specially
+for you."
+
+"Katie is a good soul, isn't she, Pasht? By the
+way, so are you to have put on that pretty dress.
+I was afraid you would forget."
+
+"I promised you I would wear it, though it is
+rather warm for a hot evening like this."
+
+"It will be much cooler up at Fiesole; and
+nothing else ever suits you so well as white cashmere.
+I have brought you some flowers to wear with it."
+
+"Oh, those lovely cluster roses; I am so fond
+of them! But they had much better go into water.
+I hate to wear flowers."
+
+"Now that's one of your superstitious fancies."
+
+"No, it isn't; only I think they must get so
+bored, spending all the evening pinned to such a
+dull companion."
+
+"I am afraid we shall all be bored to-night. The
+conversazione will be dull beyond endurance."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Partly because everything Grassini touches
+becomes as dull as himself."
+
+"Now don't be spiteful. It is not fair when we
+are going to be a man's guests."
+
+"You are always right, Madonna. Well then,
+it will be dull because half the interesting people
+are not coming."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"I don't know. Out of town, or ill, or something.
+Anyway, there will be two or three ambassadors
+and some learned Germans, and the usual
+nondescript crowd of tourists and Russian princes
+and literary club people, and a few French officers;
+nobody else that I know of--except, of course,
+the new satirist, who is to be the attraction of the
+evening."
+
+"The new satirist? What, Rivarez? But I
+thought Grassini disapproved of him so strongly."
+
+"Yes; but once the man is here and is sure to
+be talked about, of course Grassini wants his house
+to be the first place where the new lion will be on
+show. You may be sure Rivarez has heard nothing
+of Grassini's disapproval. He may have guessed
+it, though; he's sharp enough."
+
+"I did not even know he had come."
+
+"He only arrived yesterday. Here comes the
+tea. No, don't get up; let me fetch the kettle."
+
+He was never so happy as in this little study.
+Gemma's friendship, her grave unconsciousness of
+the charm she exercised over him, her frank and
+simple comradeship were the brightest things for
+him in a life that was none too bright; and whenever
+he began to feel more than usually depressed
+he would come in here after business hours and
+sit with her, generally in silence, watching her as
+she bent over her needlework or poured out tea.
+She never questioned him about his troubles or
+expressed any sympathy in words; but he always
+went away stronger and calmer, feeling, as he put
+it to himself, that he could "trudge through
+another fortnight quite respectably." She possessed,
+without knowing it, the rare gift of consolation;
+and when, two years ago, his dearest
+friends had been betrayed in Calabria and shot
+down like wolves, her steady faith had been perhaps
+the thing which had saved him from despair.
+
+On Sunday mornings he sometimes came in to
+"talk business," that expression standing for anything
+connected with the practical work of the
+Mazzinian party, of which they both were active
+and devoted members. She was quite a different
+creature then; keen, cool, and logical, perfectly
+accurate and perfectly neutral. Those who saw
+her only at her political work regarded her as a
+trained and disciplined conspirator, trustworthy,
+courageous, in every way a valuable member of
+the party, but somehow lacking in life and individuality.
+"She's a born conspirator, worth any
+dozen of us; and she is nothing more," Galli had
+said of her. The "Madonna Gemma" whom
+Martini knew was very difficult to get at.
+
+"Well, and what is your 'new satirist' like?"
+she asked, glancing back over her shoulder as she
+opened the sideboard. "There, Cesare, there are
+barley-sugar and candied angelica for you. I wonder,
+by the way, why revolutionary men are always
+so fond of sweets."
+
+"Other men are, too, only they think it beneath
+their dignity to confess it. The new satirist? Oh,
+the kind of man that ordinary women will rave
+over and you will dislike. A sort of professional
+dealer in sharp speeches, that goes about the world
+with a lackadaisical manner and a handsome ballet-girl
+dangling on to his coat-tails."
+
+"Do you mean that there is really a ballet-girl,
+or simply that you feel cross and want to imitate
+the sharp speeches?"
+
+"The Lord defend me! No; the ballet-girl is
+real enough and handsome enough, too, for those
+who like shrewish beauty. Personally, I don't.
+She's a Hungarian gipsy, or something of that
+kind, so Riccardo says; from some provincial
+theatre in Galicia. He seems to be rather a cool
+hand; he has been introducing the girl to people
+just as if she were his maiden aunt."
+
+"Well, that's only fair if he has taken her away
+from her home."
+
+"You may look at things that way, dear Madonna,
+but society won't. I think most people
+will very much resent being introduced to a woman
+whom they know to be his mistress."
+
+"How can they know it unless he tells them
+so?"
+
+"It's plain enough; you'll see if you meet her.
+But I should think even he would not have the
+audacity to bring her to the Grassinis'."
+
+"They wouldn't receive her. Signora Grassini
+is not the woman to do unconventional things of
+that kind. But I wanted to hear about Signor
+Rivarez as a satirist, not as a man. Fabrizi told
+me he had been written to and had consented to
+come and take up the campaign against the
+Jesuits; and that is the last I have heard. There
+has been such a rush of work this week."
+
+"I don't know that I can tell you much more.
+There doesn't seem to have been any difficulty
+over the money question, as we feared there would
+be. He's well off, it appears, and willing to work
+for nothing."
+
+"Has he a private fortune, then?"
+"Apparently he has; though it seems rather
+odd--you heard that night at Fabrizi's about
+the state the Duprez expedition found him
+in. But he has got shares in mines somewhere
+out in Brazil; and then he has been immensely
+successful as a feuilleton writer in Paris and
+Vienna and London. He seems to have half a
+dozen languages at his finger-tips; and there's
+nothing to prevent his keeping up his newspaper
+connections from here. Slanging the Jesuits
+won't take all his time."
+
+"That's true, of course. It's time to start,
+Cesare. Yes, I will wear the roses. Wait just a
+minute."
+
+She ran upstairs, and came back with the roses
+in the bosom of her dress, and a long scarf of black
+Spanish lace thrown over her head. Martini surveyed
+her with artistic approval.
+
+"You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like
+the great and wise Queen of Sheba."
+
+"What an unkind speech!" she retorted,
+laughing; "when you know how hard I've been
+trying to mould myself into the image of the typical
+society lady! Who wants a conspirator to
+look like the Queen of Sheba? That's not the
+way to keep clear of spies."
+
+"You'll never be able to personate the stupid
+society woman if you try for ever. But it doesn't
+matter, after all; you're too fair to look upon for
+spies to guess your opinions, even though you
+can't simper and hide behind your fan like Signora
+Grassini."
+
+"Now Cesare, let that poor woman alone!
+There, take some more barley-sugar to sweeten
+your temper. Are you ready? Then we had
+better start."
+
+Martini had been quite right in saying that the
+conversazione would be both crowded and dull.
+The literary men talked polite small-talk and
+looked hopelessly bored, while the "nondescript
+crowd of tourists and Russian princes" fluttered
+up and down the rooms, asking each other who
+were the various celebrities and trying to carry on
+intellectual conversation. Grassini was receiving
+his guests with a manner as carefully polished as
+his boots; but his cold face lighted up at the sight
+of Gemma. He did not really like her and indeed
+was secretly a little afraid of her; but he realized
+that without her his drawing room would lack a
+great attraction. He had risen high in his profession,
+and now that he was rich and well known
+his chief ambition was to make of his house a
+centre of liberal and intellectual society. He was
+painfully conscious that the insignificant, overdressed
+little woman whom in his youth he had
+made the mistake of marrying was not fit, with
+her vapid talk and faded prettiness, to be the
+mistress of a great literary salon. When he could
+prevail upon Gemma to come he always felt that
+the evening would be a success. Her quiet
+graciousness of manner set the guests at their ease,
+and her very presence seemed to lay the spectre
+of vulgarity which always, in his imagination,
+haunted the house.
+
+Signora Grassini greeted Gemma affectionately,
+exclaiming in a loud whisper: "How charming
+you look to-night!" and examining the white
+cashmere with viciously critical eyes. She hated
+her visitor rancourously, for the very things for
+which Martini loved her; for her quiet strength
+of character; for her grave, sincere directness;
+for the steady balance of her mind; for the very
+expression of her face. And when Signora Grassini
+hated a woman, she showed it by effusive tenderness.
+Gemma took the compliments and
+endearments for what they were worth, and
+troubled her head no more about them. What
+is called "going into society" was in her eyes one
+of the wearisome and rather unpleasant tasks
+which a conspirator who wishes not to attract the
+notice of spies must conscientiously fulfil. She
+classed it together with the laborious work of
+writing in cipher; and, knowing how valuable a
+practical safeguard against suspicion is the reputation
+of being a well-dressed woman, studied the
+fashion-plates as carefully as she did the keys of
+her ciphers.
+
+The bored and melancholy literary lions brightened
+up a little at the sound of Gemma's name;
+she was very popular among them; and the radical
+journalists, especially, gravitated at once to her
+end of the long room. But she was far too practised
+a conspirator to let them monopolize her.
+Radicals could be had any day; and now, when
+they came crowding round her, she gently sent
+them about their business, reminding them with a
+smile that they need not waste their time on converting
+her when there were so many tourists in
+need of instruction. For her part, she devoted
+herself to an English M. P. whose sympathies the
+republican party was anxious to gain; and, knowing
+him to be a specialist on finance, she first won
+his attention by asking his opinion on a technical
+point concerning the Austrian currency, and then
+deftly turned the conversation to the condition of
+the Lombardo-Venetian revenue. The Englishman,
+who had expected to be bored with small-talk,
+looked askance at her, evidently fearing that
+he had fallen into the clutches of a blue-stocking;
+but finding that she was both pleasant to look at
+and interesting to talk to, surrendered completely
+and plunged into as grave a discussion of Italian
+finance as if she had been Metternich. When
+Grassini brought up a Frenchman "who wishes to
+ask Signora Bolla something about the history of
+Young Italy," the M. P. rose with a bewildered
+sense that perhaps there was more ground for
+Italian discontent than he had supposed.
+
+Later in the evening Gemma slipped out on to
+the terrace under the drawing-room windows to
+sit alone for a few moments among the great
+camellias and oleanders. The close air and continually
+shifting crowd in the rooms were beginning to give her
+a headache. At the further end of the terrace stood a
+row of palms and tree-ferns, planted in large tubs
+which were hidden by a bank of lilies and other
+flowering plants. The whole formed a complete screen,
+behind which was a little nook commanding a beautiful
+view out across the valley. The branches of a pomegranate
+tree, clustered with late blossoms, hung beside the
+narrow opening between the plants.
+
+In this nook Gemma took refuge, hoping that
+no one would guess her whereabouts until she had
+secured herself against the threatening headache
+by a little rest and silence. The night was warm
+and beautifully still; but coming out from the
+hot, close rooms she felt it cool, and drew her lace
+scarf about her head.
+
+Presently the sounds of voices and footsteps
+approaching along the terrace roused her from the
+dreamy state into which she had fallen. She drew
+back into the shadow, hoping to escape notice and
+get a few more precious minutes of silence before
+again having to rack her tired brain for conversation.
+To her great annoyance the footsteps
+paused near to the screen; then Signora Grassini's
+thin, piping little voice broke off for a moment in
+its stream of chatter.
+
+The other voice, a man's, was remarkably soft
+and musical; but its sweetness of tone was marred
+by a peculiar, purring drawl, perhaps mere affectation,
+more probably the result of a habitual
+effort to conquer some impediment of speech, but
+in any case very unpleasant.
+
+"English, did you say?" it asked. "But
+surely the name is quite Italian. What was it--
+Bolla?"
+
+"Yes; she is the widow of poor Giovanni Bolla,
+who died in England about four years ago,--
+don't you remember? Ah, I forgot--you lead
+such a wandering life; we can't expect you to
+know of all our unhappy country's martyrs--they
+are so many!"
+
+Signora Grassini sighed. She always talked in
+this style to strangers; the role of a patriotic
+mourner for the sorrows of Italy formed an effective
+combination with her boarding-school manner and
+pretty infantine pout.
+
+"Died in England!" repeated the other voice.
+"Was he a refugee, then? I seem to recognize
+the name, somehow; was he not connected with
+Young Italy in its early days?"
+
+"Yes; he was one of the unfortunate young
+men who were arrested in '33--you remember
+that sad affair? He was released in a few months;
+then, two or three years later, when there was a
+warrant out against him again, he escaped to
+England. The next we heard was that he was
+married there. It was a most romantic affair altogether,
+but poor Bolla always was romantic."
+
+"And then he died in England, you say?"
+
+"Yes, of consumption; he could not stand that
+terrible English climate. And she lost her only
+child just before his death; it caught scarlet fever.
+Very sad, is it not? And we are all so fond of
+dear Gemma! She is a little stiff, poor thing; the
+English always are, you know; but I think her
+troubles have made her melancholy, and----"
+
+Gemma stood up and pushed back the boughs
+of the pomegranate tree. This retailing of her
+private sorrows for purposes of small-talk was
+almost unbearable to her, and there was visible
+annoyance in her face as she stepped into the
+light.
+
+"Ah! here she is!" exclaimed the hostess, with
+admirable coolness. "Gemma, dear, I was wondering
+where you could have disappeared to.
+Signor Felice Rivarez wishes to make your
+acquaintance."
+
+"So it's the Gadfly," thought Gemma, looking
+at him with some curiosity. He bowed to her
+decorously enough, but his eyes glanced over her
+face and figure with a look which seemed to
+her insolently keen and inquisitorial.
+
+"You have found a d-d-delightful little nook
+here," he remarked, looking at the thick screen;
+"and w-w-what a charming view!"
+
+"Yes; it's a pretty corner. I came out here to
+get some air."
+
+"It seems almost ungrateful to the good God
+to stay indoors on such a lovely night," said the
+hostess, raising her eyes to the stars. (She had
+good eyelashes and liked to show them.) "Look,
+signore! Would not our sweet Italy be heaven
+on earth if only she were free? To think that she
+should be a bond-slave, with such flowers and such
+skies!"
+
+"And such patriotic women!" the Gadfly murmured
+in his soft, languid drawl.
+
+Gemma glanced round at him in some trepidation;
+his impudence was too glaring, surely, to
+deceive anyone. But she had underrated Signora
+Grassini's appetite for compliments; the poor
+woman cast down her lashes with a sigh.
+
+"Ah, signore, it is so little that a woman can
+do! Perhaps some day I may prove my right to
+the name of an Italian--who knows? And now
+I must go back to my social duties; the French
+ambassador has begged me to introduce his ward
+to all the notabilities; you must come in presently
+and see her. She is a most charming girl.
+Gemma, dear, I brought Signor Rivarez out to
+show him our beautiful view; I must leave him
+under your care. I know you will look after him
+and introduce him to everyone. Ah! there is
+that delightful Russian prince! Have you met
+him? They say he is a great favourite of the
+Emperor Nicholas. He is military commander
+of some Polish town with a name that nobody can
+pronounce. Quelle nuit magnifique! N'est-ce-pas,
+mon prince?"
+
+She fluttered away, chattering volubly to a
+bull-necked man with a heavy jaw and a coat glittering
+with orders; and her plaintive dirges for
+"notre malheureuse patrie," interpolated with
+"charmant" and "mon prince," died away along
+the terrace.
+
+Gemma stood quite still beside the pomegranate
+tree. She was sorry for the poor, silly
+little woman, and annoyed at the Gadfly's languid
+insolence. He was watching the retreating figures
+with an expression of face that angered her; it
+seemed ungenerous to mock at such pitiable creatures.
+
+"There go Italian and--Russian patriotism,"
+he said, turning to her with a smile; "arm in arm
+and mightily pleased with each other's company.
+Which do you prefer?"
+
+She frowned slightly and made no answer.
+
+"Of c-course," he went on; "it's all a question
+of p-personal taste; but I think, of the two, I like
+the Russian variety best--it's so thorough. If
+Russia had to depend on flowers and skies for her
+supremacy instead of on powder and shot, how
+long do you think 'mon prince' would k-keep
+that Polish fortress?"
+
+"I think," she answered coldly, "that we can
+hold our personal opinions without ridiculing a
+woman whose guests we are."
+
+"Ah, yes! I f-forgot the obligations of hospitality
+here in Italy; they are a wonderfully hospitable
+people, these Italians. I'm sure the
+Austrians find them so. Won't you sit down?"
+
+He limped across the terrace to fetch a chair
+for her, and placed himself opposite to her, leaning
+against the balustrade. The light from a
+window was shining full on his face; and she was
+able to study it at her leisure.
+
+She was disappointed. She had expected to
+see a striking and powerful, if not pleasant face;
+but the most salient points of his appearance were
+a tendency to foppishness in dress and rather more
+than a tendency to a certain veiled insolence of
+expression and manner. For the rest, he was as
+swarthy as a mulatto, and, notwithstanding his
+lameness, as agile as a cat. His whole personality
+was oddly suggestive of a black jaguar. The forehead
+and left cheek were terribly disfigured by
+the long crooked scar of the old sabre-cut; and
+she had already noticed that, when he began to
+stammer in speaking, that side of his face was
+affected with a nervous twitch. But for these
+defects he would have been, in a certain restless
+and uncomfortable way, rather handsome; but it
+was not an attractive face.
+
+Presently he began again in his soft, murmuring
+purr ("Just the voice a jaguar would talk in,
+if it could speak and were in a good humour,"
+Gemma said to herself with rising irritation).
+
+"I hear," he said, "that you are interested in
+the radical press, and write for the papers."
+
+"I write a little; I have not time to do much."
+
+"Ah, of course! I understood from Signora
+Grassini that you undertake other important
+work as well."
+
+Gemma raised her eyebrows slightly. Signora
+Grassini, like the silly little woman she was, had
+evidently been chattering imprudently to this
+slippery creature, whom Gemma, for her part, was
+beginning actually to dislike.
+
+"My time is a good deal taken up," she said
+rather stiffly; "but Signora Grassini overrates
+the importance of my occupations. They are
+mostly of a very trivial character."
+
+"Well, the world would be in a bad way if we
+ALL of us spent our time in chanting dirges for
+Italy. I should think the neighbourhood of our
+host of this evening and his wife would make anybody
+frivolous, in self-defence. Oh, yes, I know
+what you're going to say; you are perfectly right,
+but they are both so deliciously funny with their
+patriotism.--Are you going in already? It is so
+nice out here!"
+
+"I think I will go in now. Is that my scarf?
+Thank you."
+
+He had picked it up, and now stood looking at
+her with wide eyes as blue and innocent as forget-me-nots
+in a brook.
+
+"I know you are offended with me," he said
+penitently, "for fooling that painted-up wax doll;
+but what can a fellow do?"
+
+"Since you ask me, I do think it an ungenerous
+and--well--cowardly thing to hold one's intellectual
+inferiors up to ridicule in that way; it is
+like laughing at a cripple, or------"
+
+He caught his breath suddenly, painfully; and
+shrank back, glancing at his lame foot and mutilated
+hand. In another instant he recovered his
+self-possession and burst out laughing.
+
+"That's hardly a fair comparison, signora; we
+cripples don't flaunt our deformities in people's
+faces as she does her stupidity. At least give us
+credit for recognizing that crooked backs are no
+pleasanter than crooked ways. There is a step
+here; will you take my arm?"
+
+She re-entered the house in embarrassed silence;
+his unexpected sensitiveness had completely disconcerted her.
+
+Directly he opened the door of the great reception
+room she realized that something unusual
+had happened in her absence. Most of the gentlemen
+looked both angry and uncomfortable;
+the ladies, with hot cheeks and carefully feigned
+unconsciousness, were all collected at one end of
+the room; the host was fingering his eye-glasses
+with suppressed but unmistakable fury, and a little
+group of tourists stood in a corner casting amused
+glances at the further end of the room. Evidently
+something was going on there which appeared to
+them in the light of a joke, and to most
+of the guests in that of an insult. Signora Grassini
+alone did not appear to have noticed anything;
+she was fluttering her fan coquettishly
+and chattering to the secretary of the Dutch
+embassy, who listened with a broad grin on his
+face.
+
+Gemma paused an instant in the doorway, turning
+to see if the Gadfly, too, had noticed the disturbed
+appearance of the company. There was
+no mistaking the malicious triumph in his eyes as
+he glanced from the face of the blissfully unconscious
+hostess to a sofa at the end of the room.
+She understood at once; he had brought his mistress
+here under some false colour, which had
+deceived no one but Signora Grassini.
+
+The gipsy-girl was leaning back on the sofa,
+surrounded by a group of simpering dandies and
+blandly ironical cavalry officers. She was gorgeously
+dressed in amber and scarlet, with an
+Oriental brilliancy of tint and profusion of ornament
+as startling in a Florentine literary salon
+as if she had been some tropical bird among
+sparrows and starlings. She herself seemed to
+feel out of place, and looked at the offended
+ladies with a fiercely contemptuous scowl. Catching
+sight of the Gadfly as he crossed the room
+with Gemma, she sprang up and came towards
+him, with a voluble flood of painfully incorrect
+French.
+
+"M. Rivarez, I have been looking for you everywhere!
+Count Saltykov wants to know whether
+you can go to his villa to-morrow night. There
+will be dancing."
+
+"I am sorry I can't go; but then I couldn't
+dance if I did. Signora Bolla, allow me to introduce
+to you Mme. Zita Reni."
+
+The gipsy glanced round at Gemma with a half
+defiant air and bowed stiffly. She was certainly
+handsome enough, as Martini had said, with a
+vivid, animal, unintelligent beauty; and the perfect
+harmony and freedom of her movements were
+delightful to see; but her forehead was low and
+narrow, and the line of her delicate nostrils was
+unsympathetic, almost cruel. The sense of
+oppression which Gemma had felt in the Gadfly's
+society was intensified by the gypsy's presence;
+and when, a moment later, the host came up to
+beg Signora Bolla to help him entertain some
+tourists in the other room, she consented with an
+odd feeling of relief.
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+"Well, Madonna, and what do you think of the
+Gadfly?" Martini asked as they drove back to
+Florence late at night. "Did you ever see anything
+quite so shameless as the way he fooled that
+poor little Grassini woman?"
+
+"About the ballet-girl, you mean?"
+
+"Yes, he persuaded her the girl was going to
+be the lion of the season. Signora Grassini would
+do anything for a celebrity."
+
+"I thought it an unfair and unkind thing to
+do; it put the Grassinis into a false position; and
+it was nothing less than cruel to the girl herself.
+I am sure she felt ill at ease."
+
+"You had a talk with him, didn't you? What
+did you think of him?"
+
+"Oh, Cesare, I didn't think anything except
+how glad I was to see the last of him. I never
+met anyone so fearfully tiring. He gave me a
+headache in ten minutes. He is like an incarnate
+demon of unrest."
+
+"I thought you wouldn't like him; and, to tell
+the truth, no more do I. The man's as slippery
+as an eel; I don't trust him."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+THE Gadfly took lodgings outside the Roman
+gate, near to which Zita was boarding. He was
+evidently somewhat of a sybarite; and, though
+nothing in the rooms showed any serious extravagance,
+there was a tendency to luxuriousness in
+trifles and to a certain fastidious daintiness in the
+arrangement of everything which surprised Galli
+and Riccardo. They had expected to find a man
+who had lived among the wildernesses of the Amazon
+more simple in his tastes, and wondered at his
+spotless ties and rows of boots, and at the masses
+of flowers which always stood upon his writing
+table. On the whole they got on very well with
+him. He was hospitable and friendly to everyone,
+especially to the local members of the Mazzinian
+party. To this rule Gemma, apparently, formed
+an exception; he seemed to have taken a dislike to
+her from the time of their first meeting, and in
+every way avoided her company. On two or three
+occasions he was actually rude to her, thus bringing
+upon himself Martini's most cordial detestation.
+There had been no love lost between the
+two men from the beginning; their temperaments
+appeared to be too incompatible for them to feel
+anything but repugnance for each other. On
+Martini's part this was fast developing into
+hostility.
+
+"I don't care about his not liking me," he said
+one day to Gemma with an aggrieved air. "I
+don't like him, for that matter; so there's no harm
+done. But I can't stand the way he behaves to
+you. If it weren't for the scandal it would make
+in the party first to beg a man to come and then
+to quarrel with him, I should call him to account
+for it."
+
+"Let him alone, Cesare; it isn't of any consequence,
+and after all, it's as much my fault as his."
+
+"What is your fault?"
+
+"That he dislikes me so. I said a brutal thing
+to him when we first met, that night at the
+Grassinis'."
+
+"YOU said a brutal thing? That's hard to
+believe, Madonna."
+
+"It was unintentional, of course, and I was very
+sorry. I said something about people laughing at
+cripples, and he took it personally. It had never
+occurred to me to think of him as a cripple; he is
+not so badly deformed."
+
+"Of course not. He has one shoulder higher
+than the other, and his left arm is pretty badly
+disabled, but he's neither hunchbacked nor clubfooted.
+As for his lameness, it isn't worth talking
+about."
+
+"Anyway, he shivered all over and changed
+colour. Of course it was horribly tactless of me,
+but it's odd he should be so sensitive. I wonder
+if he has ever suffered from any cruel jokes of that
+kind."
+
+"Much more likely to have perpetrated them, I
+should think. There's a sort of internal brutality
+about that man, under all his fine manners, that
+is perfectly sickening to me."
+
+"Now, Cesare, that's downright unfair. I
+don't like him any more than you do, but what is
+the use of making him out worse than he is? His
+manner is a little affected and irritating--I expect
+he has been too much lionized--and the everlasting
+smart speeches are dreadfully tiring; but I
+don't believe he means any harm."
+
+"I don't know what he means, but there's something
+not clean about a man who sneers at everything. It
+fairly disgusted me the other day at
+Fabrizi's debate to hear the way he cried down
+the reforms in Rome, just as if he wanted to find
+a foul motive for everything."
+
+Gemma sighed. "I am afraid I agreed better
+with him than with you on that point," she said.
+"All you good people are so full of the most
+delightful hopes and expectations; you are always
+ready to think that if one well-meaning middle-aged
+gentleman happens to get elected Pope,
+everything else will come right of itself. He has
+only got to throw open the prison doors and give
+his blessing to everybody all round, and we may
+expect the millennium within three months. You
+never seem able to see that he can't set things
+right even if he would. It's the principle of the
+thing that's wrong, not the behaviour of this man
+or that."
+
+"What principle? The temporal power of the
+Pope?"
+
+"Why that in particular? That's merely a part
+of the general wrong. The bad principle is that
+any man should hold over another the power to
+bind and loose. It's a false relationship to stand
+in towards one's fellows."
+
+Martini held up his hands. "That will do, Madonna,"
+he said, laughing. "I am not going to
+discuss with you, once you begin talking rank
+Antinomianism in that fashion. I'm sure your
+ancestors must have been English Levellers in the
+seventeenth century. Besides, what I came round
+about is this MS."
+
+He pulled it out of his pocket.
+
+"Another new pamphlet?"
+
+"A stupid thing this wretched man Rivarez
+sent in to yesterday's committee. I knew we
+should come to loggerheads with him before
+long."
+
+"What is the matter with it? Honestly,
+Cesare, I think you are a little prejudiced. Rivarez
+may be unpleasant, but he's not stupid."
+
+"Oh, I don't deny that this is clever enough in
+its way; but you had better read the thing
+yourself."
+
+The pamphlet was a skit on the wild enthusiasm
+over the new Pope with which Italy was still
+ringing. Like all the Gadfly's writing, it was
+bitter and vindictive; but, notwithstanding her
+irritation at the style, Gemma could not help
+recognizing in her heart the justice of the criticism.
+
+"I quite agree with you that it is detestably
+malicious," she said, laying down the manuscript.
+"But the worst thing about it is that it's all true."
+
+"Gemma!"
+
+"Yes, but it is. The man's a cold-blooded eel,
+if you like; but he's got the truth on his side.
+There is no use in our trying to persuade ourselves
+that this doesn't hit the mark--it does!"
+
+"Then do you suggest that we should print it?"
+
+"Ah! that's quite another matter. I certainly
+don't think we ought to print it as it stands; it
+would hurt and alienate everybody and do no
+good. But if he would rewrite it and cut out the
+personal attacks, I think it might be made into a
+really valuable piece of work. As political criticism
+it is very fine. I had no idea he could write
+so well. He says things which need saying and
+which none of us have had the courage to say.
+This passage, where he compares Italy to a tipsy
+man weeping with tenderness on the neck of the
+thief who is picking his pocket, is splendidly
+written."
+
+"Gemma! The very worst bit in the whole
+thing! I hate that ill-natured yelping at everything
+and everybody!"
+
+"So do I; but that's not the point. Rivarez
+has a very disagreeable style, and as a human being
+he is not attractive; but when he says that we have
+made ourselves drunk with processions and embracing
+and shouting about love and reconciliation, and that
+the Jesuits and Sanfedists are the people who will
+profit by it all, he's right a thousand times. I
+wish I could have been at the committee yesterday.
+What decision did you finally arrive at?"
+
+"What I have come here about: to ask you to
+go and talk it over with him and persuade him to
+soften the thing."
+
+"Me? But I hardly know the man; and besides
+that, he detests me. Why should I go, of all
+people?"
+
+"Simply because there's no one else to do it
+to-day. Besides, you are more reasonable than
+the rest of us, and won't get into useless arguments
+and quarrel with him, as we should."
+
+"I shan't do that, certainly. Well, I will go if
+you like, though I have not much hope of success."
+
+"I am sure you will be able to manage him if
+you try. Yes, and tell him that the committee
+all admired the thing from a literary point of view.
+That will put him into a good humour, and it's perfectly
+true, too."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+The Gadfly was sitting beside a table covered
+with flowers and ferns, staring absently at the
+floor, with an open letter on his knee. A shaggy
+collie dog, lying on a rug at his feet, raised its
+head and growled as Gemma knocked at the open
+door, and the Gadfly rose hastily and bowed in a
+stiff, ceremonious way. His face had suddenly
+grown hard and expressionless.
+
+"You are too kind," he said in his most chilling
+manner. "If you had let me know that you
+wanted to speak to me I would have called on
+you."
+
+Seeing that he evidently wished her at the end
+of the earth, Gemma hastened to state her business.
+He bowed again and placed a chair for her.
+
+"The committee wished me to call upon you,"
+she began, "because there has been a certain difference
+of opinion about your pamphlet."
+
+"So I expected." He smiled and sat down opposite
+to her, drawing a large vase of chrysanthemums
+between his face and the light.
+
+"Most of the members agreed that, however
+much they may admire the pamphlet as a literary
+composition, they do not think that in its present
+form it is quite suitable for publication. They fear
+that the vehemence of its tone may give offence,
+and alienate persons whose help and support are
+valuable to the party."
+
+He pulled a chrysanthemum from the vase and
+began slowly plucking off one white petal after
+another. As her eyes happened to catch the
+movement of the slim right hand dropping the
+petals, one by one, an uncomfortable sensation
+came over Gemma, as though she had somewhere
+seen that gesture before.
+
+"As a literary composition," he remarked in
+his soft, cold voice, "it is utterly worthless, and
+could be admired only by persons who know nothing
+about literature. As for its giving offence,
+that is the very thing I intended it to do."
+
+"That I quite understand. The question is
+whether you may not succeed in giving offence to
+the wrong people."
+
+He shrugged his shoulders and put a torn-off
+petal between his teeth. "I think you are mistaken,"
+he said. "The question is: For what purpose did
+your committee invite me to come here? I understood,
+to expose and ridicule the Jesuits. I fulfil my
+obligation to the best of my ability."
+
+"And I can assure you that no one has any
+doubt as to either the ability or the good-will.
+What the committee fears is that the liberal party
+may take offence, and also that the town workmen
+may withdraw their moral support. You may have
+meant the pamphlet for an attack upon the Sanfedists:
+but many readers will construe it as an
+attack upon the Church and the new Pope; and
+this, as a matter of political tactics, the
+committee does not consider desirable."
+
+"I begin to understand. So long as I keep to
+the particular set of clerical gentlemen with whom
+the party is just now on bad terms, I may speak
+sooth if the fancy takes me; but directly I touch
+upon the committee's own pet priests--'truth's a
+dog must to kennel; he must be whipped out,
+when the--Holy Father may stand by the fire
+and-----' Yes, the fool was right; I'd rather be
+any kind of a thing than a fool. Of course I
+must bow to the committee's decision, but I
+continue to think that it has pared its wit o' both
+sides and left--M-mon-signor M-m-montan-n-nelli
+in the middle."
+
+"Montanelli?" Gemma repeated. "I don't understand
+you. Do you mean the Bishop of Brisighella?"
+
+"Yes; the new Pope has just created him a
+Cardinal, you know. I have a letter about him
+here. Would you care to hear it? The writer is
+a friend of mine on the other side of the frontier."
+
+"The Papal frontier?"
+
+"Yes. This is what he writes----" He took
+up the letter which had been in his hand when she
+entered, and read aloud, suddenly beginning to
+stammer violently:
+
+"'Y-o-you will s-s-s-soon have the p-pleasure
+of m-m-meeting one of our w-w-worst enemies,
+C-cardinal Lorenzo M-montan-n-nelli, the
+B-b-bishop of Brisig-g-hella. He int-t----'"
+
+He broke off, paused a moment, and began
+again, very slowly and drawling insufferably, but
+no longer stammering:
+
+"'He intends to visit Tuscany during the coming
+month on a mission of reconciliation. He will
+preach first in Florence, where he will stay for
+about three weeks; then will go on to Siena and
+Pisa, and return to the Romagna by Pistoja. He
+ostensibly belongs to the liberal party in the
+Church, and is a personal friend of the Pope and
+Cardinal Feretti. Under Gregory he was out of
+favour, and was kept out of sight in a little hole
+in the Apennines. Now he has come suddenly to
+the front. Really, of course, he is as much pulled
+by Jesuit wires as any Sanfedist in the country.
+This mission was suggested by some of the Jesuit
+fathers. He is one of the most brilliant preachers
+in the Church, and as mischievous in his way as
+Lambruschini himself. His business is to keep
+the popular enthusiasm over the Pope from subsiding,
+and to occupy the public attention until
+the Grand Duke has signed a project which the
+agents of the Jesuits are preparing to lay before
+him. What this project is I have been unable to
+discover.' Then, further on, it says: 'Whether
+Montanelli understands for what purpose he is
+being sent to Tuscany, or whether the Jesuits are
+playing on him, I cannot make out. He is either
+an uncommonly clever knave, or the biggest ass
+that was ever foaled. The odd thing is that, so
+far as I can discover, he neither takes bribes nor
+keeps mistresses--the first time I ever came
+across such a thing.'"
+
+He laid down the letter and sat looking at her
+with half-shut eyes, waiting, apparently, for her to
+speak.
+
+"Are you satisfied that your informant is correct
+in his facts?" she asked after a moment.
+
+"As to the irreproachable character of Monsignor
+M-mon-t-tan-nelli's private life? No; but
+neither is he. As you will observe, he puts in the
+s-s-saving clause: 'So far as I c-can discover----
+
+"I was not speaking of that," she interposed
+coldly, "but of the part about this mission."
+
+"I can fully trust the writer. He is an old
+friend of mine--one of my comrades of '43, and he
+is in a position which gives him exceptional
+opportunities for finding out things of that kind."
+
+"Some official at the Vatican," thought Gemma
+quickly. "So that's the kind of connections you
+have? I guessed there was something of that sort."
+
+"This letter is, of course, a private one," the
+Gadfly went on; "and you understand that the
+information is to be kept strictly to the members
+of your committee."
+
+"That hardly needs saying. Then about the
+pamphlet: may I tell the committee that you consent
+to make a few alterations and soften it a little,
+or that----"
+
+"Don't you think the alterations may succeed
+in spoiling the beauty of the 'literary composition,'
+signora, as well as in reducing the vehemence
+of the tone?"
+
+"You are asking my personal opinion. What
+I have come here to express is that of the committee
+as a whole."
+
+"Does that imply that y-y-you disagree with the
+committee as a whole?" He had put the letter
+into his pocket and was now leaning forward and
+looking at her with an eager, concentrated expression
+which quite changed the character of his
+face. "You think----"
+
+"If you care to know what I personally think
+--I disagree with the majority on both points. I
+do not at all admire the pamphlet from a literary
+point of view, and I do think it true as a presentation
+of facts and wise as a matter of tactics."
+
+"That is------"
+
+"I quite agree with you that Italy is being led
+away by a will-o'-the-wisp and that all this enthusiasm
+and rejoicing will probably land her in a
+terrible bog; and I should be most heartily glad
+to have that openly and boldly said, even at the
+cost of offending or alienating some of our present
+supporters. But as a member of a body the large
+majority of which holds the opposite view, I cannot
+insist upon my personal opinion; and I certainly
+think that if things of that kind are to be
+said at all, they should be said temperately and
+quietly; not in the tone adopted in this pamphlet."
+
+"Will you wait a minute while I look through
+the manuscript?"
+
+He took it up and glanced down the pages. A
+dissatisfied frown settled on his face.
+
+"Yes, of course, you are perfectly right. The
+thing's written like a cafe chantant skit, not a
+political satire. But what's a man to do? If I
+write decently the public won't understand it;
+they will say it's dull if it isn't spiteful enough."
+
+"Don't you think spitefulness manages to be
+dull when we get too much of it?"
+
+He threw a keen, rapid glance at her, and burst
+out laughing.
+
+"Apparently the signora belongs to the dreadful
+category of people who are always right!
+Then if I yield to the temptation to be spiteful, I
+may come in time to be as dull as Signora Grassini?
+Heavens, what a fate! No, you needn't
+frown. I know you don't like me, and I am going
+to keep to business. What it comes to, then,
+is practically this: if I cut out the personalities and
+leave the essential part of the thing as it is, the
+committee will very much regret that they can't
+take the responsibility of printing it. If I cut out
+the political truth and make all the hard names
+apply to no one but the party's enemies, the committee
+will praise the thing up to the skies, and
+you and I will know it's not worth printing.
+Rather a nice point of metaphysics: Which is the
+more desirable condition, to be printed and not be
+worth it, or to be worth it and not be printed?
+Well, signora?"
+
+"I do not think you are tied to any such alternative.
+I believe that if you were to cut out the
+personalities the committee would consent to
+print the pamphlet, though the majority would,
+of course, not agree with it; and I am convinced
+that it would be very useful. But you would have
+to lay aside the spitefulness. If you are going to
+say a thing the substance of which is a big pill for
+your readers to swallow, there is no use in frightening
+them at the beginning by the form."
+
+He sighed and shrugged his shoulders resignedly.
+"I submit, signora; but on one condition.
+If you rob me of my laugh now, I must have it
+out next time. When His Eminence, the irreproachable
+Cardinal, turns up in Florence, neither
+you nor your committee must object to my being
+as spiteful as I like. It's my due!"
+
+He spoke in his lightest, coldest manner, pulling
+the chrysanthemums out of their vase and
+holding them up to watch the light through the
+translucent petals. "What an unsteady hand he
+has," she thought, seeing how the flowers shook
+and quivered. "Surely he doesn't drink!"
+
+"You had better discuss the matter with the
+other members of the committee," she said, rising.
+"I cannot form any opinion as to what they will
+think about it."
+
+"And you?" He had risen too, and was leaning
+against the table, pressing the flowers to his face
+
+She hesitated. The question distressed her,
+bringing up old and miserable associations. "I
+--hardly know," she said at last. "Many years
+ago I used to know something about Monsignor
+Montanelli. He was only a canon at that time,
+and Director of the theological seminary in the
+province where I lived as a girl. I heard a great
+deal about him from--someone who knew him
+very intimately; and I never heard anything of him
+that was not good. I believe that, in those days
+at least, he was really a most remarkable man.
+But that was long ago, and he may have changed.
+Irresponsible power corrupts so many people."
+
+The Gadfly raised his head from the flowers, and
+looked at her with a steady face.
+
+"At any rate," he said, "if Monsignor Montanelli
+is not himself a scoundrel, he is a tool in
+scoundrelly hands. It is all one to me which he
+is--and to my friends across the frontier. A stone
+in the path may have the best intentions, but it
+must be kicked out of the path, for all that.
+Allow me, signora!" He rang the bell, and, limping
+to the door, opened it for her to pass out.
+
+"It was very kind of you to call, signora. May
+I send for a vettura? No? Good-afternoon, then!
+Bianca, open the hall-door, please."
+
+Gemma went out into the street, pondering
+anxiously. "My friends across the frontier"--
+who were they? And how was the stone to be
+kicked out of the path? If with satire only, why
+had he said it with such dangerous eyes?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONSIGNOR MONTANELLI arrived in Florence
+in the first week of October. His visit caused a
+little flutter of excitement throughout the town.
+He was a famous preacher and a representative of
+the reformed Papacy; and people looked eagerly
+to him for an exposition of the "new doctrine,"
+the gospel of love and reconciliation which was to
+cure the sorrows of Italy. The nomination of
+Cardinal Gizzi to the Roman State Secretaryship
+in place of the universally detested Lambruschini
+had raised the public enthusiasm to its highest
+pitch; and Montanelli was just the man who could
+most easily sustain it. The irreproachable strictness
+of his life was a phenomenon sufficiently rare
+among the high dignitaries of the Roman Church
+to attract the attention of people accustomed to
+regard blackmailing, peculation, and disreputable
+intrigues as almost invariable adjuncts to the
+career of a prelate. Moreover, his talent as a
+preacher was really great; and with his beautiful
+voice and magnetic personality, he would in any
+time and place have made his mark.
+
+Grassini, as usual, strained every nerve to get
+the newly arrived celebrity to his house; but
+Montanelli was no easy game to catch. To all
+invitations he replied with the same courteous but
+positive refusal, saying that his health was bad and
+his time fully occupied, and that he had neither
+strength nor leisure for going into society.
+
+"What omnivorous creatures those Grassinis
+are!" Martini said contemptuously to Gemma as
+they crossed the Signoria square one bright, cold
+Sunday morning. "Did you notice the way
+Grassini bowed when the Cardinal's carriage drove
+up? It's all one to them who a man is, so long as
+he's talked about. I never saw such lion-hunters
+in my life. Only last August it was the Gadfly;
+now it's Montanelli. I hope His Eminence feels
+flattered at the attention; a precious lot of adventurers
+have shared it with him."
+
+They had been hearing Montanelli preach in
+the Cathedral; and the great building had been so
+thronged with eager listeners that Martini, fearing
+a return of Gemma's troublesome headaches,
+had persuaded her to come away before the Mass
+was over. The sunny morning, the first after a
+week of rain, offered him an excuse for suggesting
+a walk among the garden slopes by San Niccolo.
+
+"No," she answered; "I should like a walk if
+you have time; but not to the hills. Let us keep
+along the Lung'Arno; Montanelli will pass on his
+way back from church and I am like Grassini--
+I want to see the notability."
+
+"But you have just seen him."
+
+"Not close. There was such a crush in the
+Cathedral, and his back was turned to us when the
+carriage passed. If we keep near to the bridge
+we shall be sure to see him well--he is staying
+on the Lung'Arno, you know."
+
+"But what has given you such a sudden fancy
+to see Montanelli? You never used to care about
+famous preachers."
+
+"It is not famous preachers; it is the man himself;
+I want to see how much he has changed since I saw him last."
+
+"When was that?"
+
+"Two days after Arthur's death."
+
+Martini glanced at her anxiously. They had
+come out on to the Lung'Arno, and she was staring
+absently across the water, with a look on her
+face that he hated to see.
+
+"Gemma, dear," he said after a moment; "are
+you going to let that miserable business haunt
+you all your life? We have all made mistakes
+when we were seventeen."
+
+"We have not all killed our dearest friend when
+we were seventeen," she answered wearily; and,
+leaning her arm on the stone balustrade of the
+bridge, looked down into the river. Martini held
+his tongue; he was almost afraid to speak to her
+when this mood was on her.
+
+"I never look down at water without remembering,"
+she said, slowly raising her eyes to his;
+then with a nervous little shiver: "Let us walk
+on a bit, Cesare; it is chilly for standing."
+
+They crossed the bridge in silence and walked
+on along the river-side. After a few minutes she
+spoke again.
+
+"What a beautiful voice that man has! There
+is something about it that I have never heard in
+any other human voice. I believe it is the secret
+of half his influence."
+
+"It is a wonderful voice," Martini assented,
+catching at a subject of conversation which might
+lead her away from the dreadful memory called up
+by the river, "and he is, apart from his voice,
+about the finest preacher I have ever heard. But
+I believe the secret of his influence lies deeper than
+that. It is the way his life stands out from that
+of almost all the other prelates. I don't know
+whether you could lay your hand on one other
+high dignitary in all the Italian Church--except
+the Pope himself--whose reputation is so utterly
+spotless. I remember, when I was in the Romagna
+last year, passing through his diocese and
+seeing those fierce mountaineers waiting in the
+rain to get a glimpse of him or touch his dress.
+He is venerated there almost as a saint; and that
+means a good deal among the Romagnols, who
+generally hate everything that wears a cassock. I
+remarked to one of the old peasants,--as typical
+a smuggler as ever I saw in my life,--that the
+people seemed very much devoted to their bishop,
+and he said: 'We don't love bishops, they are
+liars; we love Monsignor Montanelli. Nobody has
+ever known him to tell a lie or do an unjust thing.'"
+
+"I wonder," Gemma said, half to herself, "if he
+knows the people think that about him."
+
+"Why shouldn't he know it? Do you think it
+is not true?"
+
+"I know it is not true."
+
+"How do you know it?"
+
+"Because he told me so."
+
+"HE told you? Montanelli? Gemma, what do you mean?"
+
+She pushed the hair back from her forehead and
+turned towards him. They were standing still
+again, he leaning on the balustrade and she slowly
+drawing lines on the pavement with the point of
+her umbrella.
+
+"Cesare, you and I have been friends for all
+these years, and I have never told you what really
+happened about Arthur."
+
+"There is no need to tell me, dear," he broke
+in hastily; "I know all about it already."
+
+"Giovanni told you?"
+
+"Yes, when he was dying. He told me about
+it one night when I was sitting up with him. He
+said---- Gemma, dear, I had better tell you the
+truth, now we have begun talking about it--he
+said that you were always brooding over that
+wretched story, and he begged me to be as good
+a friend to you as I could and try to keep you
+from thinking of it. And I have tried to, dear,
+though I may not have succeeded--I have,
+indeed."
+
+"I know you have," she answered softly, raising
+her eyes for a moment; "I should have been
+badly off without your friendship. But--Giovanni
+did not tell you about Monsignor Montanelli, then?"
+
+"No, I didn't know that he had anything to
+do with it. What he told me was about--all that
+affair with the spy, and about----"
+
+"About my striking Arthur and his drowning
+himself. Well, I will tell you about Montanelli."
+
+They turned back towards the bridge over which
+the Cardinal's carriage would have to pass.
+Gemma looked out steadily across the water as
+she spoke.
+
+"In those days Montanelli was a canon; he was
+Director of the Theological Seminary at Pisa, and
+used to give Arthur lessons in philosophy and read
+with him after he went up to the Sapienza. They
+were perfectly devoted to each other; more like
+two lovers than teacher and pupil. Arthur almost
+worshipped the ground that Montanelli walked on,
+and I remember his once telling me that if he lost
+his 'Padre'--he always used to call Montanelli so
+--he should go and drown himself. Well, then
+you know what happened about the spy. The
+next day, my father and the Burtons--Arthur's
+step-brothers, most detestable people--spent the
+whole day dragging the Darsena basin for the
+body; and I sat in my room alone and thought of
+what I had done----"
+
+She paused a moment, and went on again:
+
+"Late in the evening my father came into my
+room and said: 'Gemma, child, come downstairs;
+there's a man I want you to see.' And when we
+went down there was one of the students belonging
+to the group sitting in the consulting room,
+all white and shaking; and he told us about Giovanni's
+second letter coming from the prison to
+say that they had heard from the jailer about
+Cardi, and that Arthur had been tricked in the
+confessional. I remember the student saying to
+me: 'It is at least some consolation that we know
+he was innocent' My father held my hands and
+tried to comfort me; he did not know then about
+the blow. Then I went back to my room and
+sat there all night alone. In the morning my
+father went out again with the Burtons to see the
+harbour dragged. They had some hope of finding
+the body there."
+
+"It was never found, was it?"
+
+"No; it must have got washed out to sea; but
+they thought there was a chance. I was alone in
+my room and the servant came up to say that a
+'reverendissimo padre' had called and she had
+told him my father was at the docks and he had
+gone away. I knew it must be Montanelli; so I
+ran out at the back door and caught him up at
+the garden gate. When I said: 'Canon Montanelli,
+I want to speak to you,' he just stopped and
+waited silently for me to speak. Oh, Cesare, if
+you had seen his face--it haunted me for months
+afterwards! I said: 'I am Dr. Warren's daughter,
+and I have come to tell you that it is I who have
+killed Arthur.' I told him everything, and he
+stood and listened, like a figure cut in stone, till
+I had finished; then he said: 'Set your heart at
+rest, my child; it is I that am a murderer, not you.
+I deceived him and he found it out.' And with
+that he turned and went out at the gate without
+another word."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I don't know what happened to him after that;
+I heard the same evening that he had fallen down
+in the street in a kind of fit and had been carried
+into a house near the docks; but that is all
+I know. My father did everything he could for
+me; when I told him about it he threw up
+his practice and took me away to England at
+once, so that I should never hear anything that
+could remind me. He was afraid I should end in
+the water, too; and indeed I believe I was near it
+at one time. But then, you know, when we found
+out that my father had cancer I was obliged to
+come to myself--there was no one else to nurse
+him. And after he died I was left with the little
+ones on my hands until my elder brother was able
+to give them a home. Then there was Giovanni.
+Do you know, when he came to England we were
+almost afraid to meet each other with that frightful
+memory between us. He was so bitterly
+remorseful for his share in it all--that unhappy
+letter he wrote from prison. But I believe,
+really, it was our common trouble that drew us
+together."
+
+Martini smiled and shook his head.
+
+"It may have been so on your side," he said;
+"but Giovanni had made up his mind from the
+first time he ever saw you. I remember his coming
+back to Milan after that first visit to Leghorn
+and raving about you to me till I was perfectly
+sick of hearing of the English Gemma. I thought
+I should hate you. Ah! there it comes!"
+
+The carriage crossed the bridge and drove up to
+a large house on the Lung'Arno. Montanelli was
+leaning back on the cushions as if too tired to
+care any longer for the enthusiastic crowd which
+had collected round the door to catch a glimpse of
+him. The inspired look that his face had worn
+in the Cathedral had faded quite away and the
+sunlight showed the lines of care and fatigue.
+When he had alighted and passed, with the heavy,
+spiritless tread of weary and heart-sick old age,
+into the house, Gemma turned away and walked
+slowly to the bridge. Her face seemed for a moment
+to reflect the withered, hopeless look of his.
+Martini walked beside her in silence.
+
+"I have so often wondered," she began again
+after a little pause; "what he meant about the
+deception. It has sometimes occurred to me----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Well, it is very strange; there was the
+most extraordinary personal resemblance between
+them."
+
+"Between whom?"
+
+"Arthur and Montanelli. It was not only I
+who noticed it. And there was something mysterious
+in the relationship between the members
+of that household. Mrs. Burton, Arthur's mother,
+was one of the sweetest women I ever knew. Her
+face had the same spiritual look as Arthur's, and
+I believe they were alike in character, too. But
+she always seemed half frightened, like a detected
+criminal; and her step-son's wife used to treat
+her as no decent person treats a dog. And then
+Arthur himself was such a startling contrast to
+all those vulgar Burtons. Of course, when one
+is a child one takes everything for granted; but
+looking back on it afterwards I have often wondered
+whether Arthur was really a Burton."
+
+"Possibly he found out something about his
+mother--that may easily have been the cause of
+his death, not the Cardi affair at all," Martini
+interposed, offering the only consolation he could
+think of at the moment. Gemma shook her
+head.
+
+"If you could have seen his face after I struck
+him, Cesare, you would not think that. It may
+be all true about Montanelli--very likely it is--
+but what I have done I have done."
+
+They walked on a little way without speaking,
+
+"My dear," Martini said at last; "if there were
+any way on earth to undo a thing that is once
+done, it would be worth while to brood over our
+old mistakes; but as it is, let the dead bury their
+dead. It is a terrible story, but at least the
+poor lad is out of it now, and luckier than some
+of those that are left--the ones that are in exile
+and in prison. You and I have them to think of,
+we have no right to eat out our hearts for the
+dead. Remember what your own Shelley says:
+'The past is Death's, the future is thine own.'
+Take it, while it is still yours, and fix your mind,
+not on what you may have done long ago to hurt,
+but on what you can do now to help."
+
+In his earnestness he had taken her hand. He
+dropped it suddenly and drew back at the sound
+of a soft, cold, drawling voice behind him.
+
+"Monsignor Montan-n-nelli," murmured this
+languid voice, "is undoubtedly all you say, my
+dear doctor. In fact, he appears to be so much
+too good for this world that he ought to be politely
+escorted into the next. I am sure he would
+cause as great a sensation there as he has done
+here; there are p-p-probably many old-established
+ghosts who have never seen such a thing as an
+honest cardinal. And there is nothing that ghosts
+love as they do novelties----"
+
+"How do you know that?" asked Dr. Riccardo's
+voice in a tone of ill-suppressed irritation.
+
+"From Holy Writ, my dear sir. If the Gospel
+is to be trusted, even the most respectable of all
+Ghosts had a f-f-fancy for capricious alliances.
+Now, honesty and c-c-cardinals--that seems to
+me a somewhat capricious alliance, and rather an
+uncomfortable one, like shrimps and liquorice.
+Ah, Signor Martini, and Signora Bolla! Lovely
+weather after the rain, is it not? Have you been
+to hear the n-new Savonarola, too?"
+
+Martini turned round sharply. The Gadfly,
+with a cigar in his mouth and a hot-house flower
+in his buttonhole, was holding out to him a slender,
+carefully-gloved hand. With the sunlight reflected
+in his immaculate boots and glancing back
+from the water on to his smiling face, he looked
+to Martini less lame and more conceited than
+usual. They were shaking hands, affably on the
+one side and rather sulkily on the other, when
+Riccardo hastily exclaimed:
+
+"I am afraid Signora Bolla is not well!"
+
+She was so pale that her face looked almost livid
+under the shadow of her bonnet, and the ribbon
+at her throat fluttered perceptibly from the violent
+beating of the heart.
+
+"I will go home," she said faintly.
+
+A cab was called and Martini got in with her
+to see her safely home. As the Gadfly bent down
+to arrange her cloak, which was hanging over the
+wheel, he raised his eyes suddenly to her face, and
+Martini saw that she shrank away with a look of
+something like terror.
+
+"Gemma, what is the matter with you?" he
+asked, in English, when they had started. "What
+did that scoundrel say to you?"
+
+"Nothing, Cesare; it was no fault of his. I--
+I--had a fright----"
+
+"A fright?"
+
+"Yes; I fancied----" She put one hand over
+her eyes, and he waited silently till she should
+recover her self-command. Her face was already
+regaining its natural colour.
+
+"You are quite right," she said at last, turning
+to him and speaking in her usual voice; "it is
+worse than useless to look back at a horrible past.
+It plays tricks with one's nerves and makes one
+imagine all sorts of impossible things. We will
+NEVER talk about that subject again, Cesare, or I
+shall see fantastic likenesses to Arthur in every
+face I meet. It is a kind of hallucination, like
+a nightmare in broad daylight. Just now, when
+that odious little fop came up, I fancied it was
+Arthur."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+THE Gadfly certainly knew how to make personal
+enemies. He had arrived in Florence in
+August, and by the end of October three-fourths
+of the committee which had invited him shared
+Martini's opinion. His savage attacks upon Montanelli
+had annoyed even his admirers; and Galli
+himself, who at first had been inclined to uphold
+everything the witty satirist said or did, began to
+acknowledge with an aggrieved air that Montanelli
+had better have been left in peace. "Decent
+cardinals are none so plenty. One might treat
+them politely when they do turn up."
+
+The only person who, apparently, remained
+quite indifferent to the storm of caricatures and
+pasquinades was Montanelli himself. It seemed,
+as Martini said, hardly worth while to expend
+one's energy in ridiculing a man who took it so
+good-humouredly. It was said in the town that
+Montanelli, one day when the Archbishop of Florence
+was dining with him, had found in the room
+one of the Gadfly's bitter personal lampoons
+against himself, had read it through and handed
+the paper to the Archbishop, remarking: "That
+is rather cleverly put, is it not?"
+
+One day there appeared in the town a leaflet,
+headed: "The Mystery of the Annunciation."
+Even had the author omitted his now familiar
+signature, a sketch of a gadfly with spread wings,
+the bitter, trenchant style would have left in the
+minds of most readers no doubt as to his identity.
+The skit was in the form of a dialogue between
+Tuscany as the Virgin Mary, and Montanelli as the
+angel who, bearing the lilies of purity and crowned
+with the olive branch of peace, was announcing
+the advent of the Jesuits. The whole thing was
+full of offensive personal allusions and hints of the
+most risky nature, and all Florence felt the satire
+to be both ungenerous and unfair. And yet all
+Florence laughed. There was something so irresistible
+in the Gadfly's grave absurdities that those
+who most disapproved of and disliked him laughed
+as immoderately at all his squibs as did his warmest
+partisans. Repulsive in tone as the leaflet was,
+it left its trace upon the popular feeling of the
+town. Montanelli's personal reputation stood too
+high for any lampoon, however witty, seriously to
+injure it, but for a moment the tide almost turned
+against him. The Gadfly had known where to
+sting; and, though eager crowds still collected
+before the Cardinal's house to see him enter or
+leave his carriage, ominous cries of "Jesuit!" and
+"Sanfedist spy!" often mingled with the cheers
+and benedictions.
+
+But Montanelli had no lack of supporters. Two
+days after the publication of the skit, the Churchman,
+a leading clerical paper, brought out a
+brilliant article, called: "An Answer to 'The
+Mystery of the Annunciation,'" and signed: "A
+Son of the Church." It was an impassioned defence
+of Montanelli against the Gadfly's slanderous
+imputations. The anonymous writer, after
+expounding, with great eloquence and fervour, the
+doctrine of peace on earth and good will towards
+men, of which the new Pontiff was the evangelist,
+concluded by challenging the Gadfly to prove a
+single one of his assertions, and solemnly appealing
+to the public not to believe a contemptible
+slanderer. Both the cogency of the article as a
+bit of special pleading and its merit as a literary
+composition were sufficiently far above the average
+to attract much attention in the town, especially
+as not even the editor of the newspaper could
+guess the author's identity. The article was soon
+reprinted separately in pamphlet form; and the
+"anonymous defender" was discussed in every
+coffee-shop in Florence.
+
+The Gadfly responded with a violent attack on
+the new Pontificate and all its supporters, especially
+on Montanelli, who, he cautiously hinted, had
+probably consented to the panegyric on himself.
+To this the anonymous defender again replied in
+the Churchman with an indignant denial. During
+the rest of Montanelli's stay the controversy raging
+between the two writers occupied more of the
+public attention than did even the famous preacher
+himself.
+
+Some members of the liberal party ventured to
+remonstrate with the Gadfly about the unnecessary
+malice of his tone towards Montanelli; but
+they did not get much satisfaction out of him.
+He only smiled affably and answered with a languid
+little stammer: "R-really, gentlemen, you are
+rather unfair. I expressly stipulated, when I gave
+in to Signora Bolla, that I should be allowed a
+l-l-little chuckle all to myself now. It is so nominated
+in the bond!"
+
+At the end of October Montanelli returned to
+his see in the Romagna, and, before leaving Florence,
+preached a farewell sermon in which he spoke
+of the controversy, gently deprecating the vehemence
+of both writers and begging his unknown
+defender to set an example of tolerance by closing
+a useless and unseemly war of words. On the
+following day the Churchman contained a notice
+that, at Monsignor Montanelli's publicly expressed
+desire, "A Son of the Church" would withdraw
+from the controversy.
+
+The last word remained with the Gadfly. He
+issued a little leaflet, in which he declared himself
+disarmed and converted by Montanelli's Christian
+meekness and ready to weep tears of reconciliation
+upon the neck of the first Sanfedist he met. "I
+am even willing," he concluded; "to embrace my
+anonymous challenger himself; and if my readers
+knew, as his Eminence and I know, what that
+implies and why he remains anonymous, they
+would believe in the sincerity of my conversion."
+
+In the latter part of November he announced to
+the literary committee that he was going for a
+fortnight's holiday to the seaside. He went, apparently,
+to Leghorn; but Dr. Riccardo, going
+there soon after and wishing to speak to him,
+searched the town for him in vain. On the 5th of
+December a political demonstration of the most
+extreme character burst out in the States of the
+Church, along the whole chain of the Apennines;
+and people began to guess the reason of the Gadfly's
+sudden fancy to take his holidays in the depth
+of winter. He came back to Florence when the
+riots had been quelled, and, meeting Riccardo in
+the street, remarked affably:
+
+"I hear you were inquiring for me in Leghorn;
+I was staying in Pisa. What a pretty old town
+it is! There's something quite Arcadian about it."
+
+In Christmas week he attended an afternoon
+meeting of the literary committee which was held
+in Dr. Riccardo's lodgings near the Porta alla
+Croce. The meeting was a full one, and when he
+came in, a little late, with an apologetic bow and
+smile, there seemed to be no seat empty. Riccardo
+rose to fetch a chair from the next room,
+but the Gadfly stopped him. "Don't trouble
+about it," he said; "I shall be quite comfortable
+here"; and crossing the room to a window beside
+which Gemma had placed her chair, he sat down
+on the sill, leaning his head indolently back
+against the shutter.
+
+As he looked down at Gemma, smiling with
+half-shut eyes, in the subtle, sphinx-like way that
+gave him the look of a Leonardo da Vinci portrait,
+the instinctive distrust with which he inspired her
+deepened into a sense of unreasoning fear.
+
+The proposal under discussion was that a pamphlet
+be issued setting forth the committee's views
+on the dearth with which Tuscany was threatened
+and the measures which should be taken to meet
+it. The matter was a somewhat difficult one to
+decide, because, as usual, the committee's views
+upon the subject were much divided. The more
+advanced section, to which Gemma, Martini, and
+Riccardo belonged, was in favour of an energetic
+appeal to both government and public to take adequate
+measures at once for the relief of the peasantry.
+The moderate division--including, of
+course, Grassini--feared that an over-emphatic
+tone might irritate rather than convince the
+ministry.
+
+"It is all very well, gentlemen, to want the
+people helped at once," he said, looking round
+upon the red-hot radicals with his calm and pitying
+air. "We most of us want a good many things
+that we are not likely to get; but if we start with
+the tone you propose to adopt, the government
+is very likely not to begin any relief measures
+at all till there is actual famine. If we could
+only induce the ministry to make an inquiry
+into the state of the crops it would be a step in
+advance."
+
+Galli, in his corner by the stove, jumped up to
+answer his enemy.
+
+"A step in advance--yes, my dear sir; but if
+there's going to be a famine, it won't wait for us
+to advance at that pace. The people might all
+starve before we got to any actual relief."
+
+"It would be interesting to know----" Sacconi
+began; but several voices interrupted him.
+
+"Speak up; we can't hear!"
+
+"I should think not, with such an infernal row
+in the street," said Galli, irritably. "Is that window
+shut, Riccardo? One can't hear one's self speak!"
+
+Gemma looked round. "Yes," she said, "the
+window is quite shut. I think there is a variety
+show, or some such thing, passing."
+
+The sounds of shouting and laughter, of the
+tinkling of bells and trampling of feet, resounded
+from the street below, mixed with the braying of
+a villainous brass band and the unmerciful banging
+of a drum.
+
+"It can't be helped these few days," said Riccardo;
+"we must expect noise at Christmas time. What were you
+saying, Sacconi?"
+
+"I said it would be interesting to hear what is
+thought about the matter in Pisa and Leghorn.
+Perhaps Signor Rivarez can tell us something; he
+has just come from there."
+
+The Gadfly did not answer. He was staring out
+of the window and appeared not to have heard
+what had been said.
+
+"Signor Rivarez!" said Gemma. She was the
+only person sitting near to him, and as he remained
+silent she bent forward and touched him on the
+arm. He slowly turned his face to her, and she
+started as she saw its fixed and awful immobility.
+For a moment it was like the face of a corpse; then
+the lips moved in a strange, lifeless way.
+
+"Yes," he whispered; "a variety show."
+
+Her first instinct was to shield him from the
+curiosity of the others. Without understanding
+what was the matter with him, she realized that
+some frightful fancy or hallucination had seized
+upon him, and that, for the moment, he was at
+its mercy, body and soul. She rose quickly and,
+standing between him and the company, threw
+the window open as if to look out. No one but
+herself had seen his face.
+
+In the street a travelling circus was passing,
+with mountebanks on donkeys and harlequins in
+parti-coloured dresses. The crowd of holiday
+masqueraders, laughing and shoving, was exchanging
+jests and showers of paper ribbon with the
+clowns and flinging little bags of sugar-plums to
+the columbine, who sat in her car, tricked out in
+tinsel and feathers, with artificial curls on her
+forehead and an artificial smile on her painted lips.
+Behind the car came a motley string of figures--
+street Arabs, beggars, clowns turning somersaults,
+and costermongers hawking their wares. They
+were jostling, pelting, and applauding a figure
+which at first Gemma could not see for the pushing
+and swaying of the crowd. The next moment,
+however, she saw plainly what it was--a
+hunchback, dwarfish and ugly, grotesquely attired
+in a fool's dress, with paper cap and bells. He
+evidently belonged to the strolling company, and
+was amusing the crowd with hideous grimaces and
+contortions.
+
+"What is going on out there?" asked Riccardo,
+approaching the window. "You seem very much
+interested."
+
+He was a little surprised at their keeping the
+whole committee waiting to look at a strolling
+company of mountebanks. Gemma turned round.
+
+"It is nothing interesting," she said; "only a
+variety show; but they made such a noise that I
+thought it must be something else."
+
+She was standing with one hand upon the
+window-sill, and suddenly felt the Gadfly's cold
+fingers press the hand with a passionate clasp.
+"Thank you!" he whispered softly; and then,
+closing the window, sat down again upon the sill.
+
+"I'm afraid," he said in his airy manner, "that
+I have interrupted you, gentlemen. I was l-looking
+at the variety show; it is s-such a p-pretty sight."
+
+"Sacconi was asking you a question," said Martini
+gruffly. The Gadfly's behaviour seemed to
+him an absurd piece of affectation, and he was
+annoyed that Gemma should have been tactless
+enough to follow his example. It was not like her.
+
+The Gadfly disclaimed all knowledge of the state
+of feeling in Pisa, explaining that he had been
+there "only on a holiday." He then plunged at
+once into an animated discussion, first of agricultural
+prospects, then of the pamphlet question;
+and continued pouring out a flood of stammering
+talk till the others were quite tired. He seemed
+to find some feverish delight in the sound of his
+own voice.
+
+When the meeting ended and the members of
+the committee rose to go, Riccardo came up to
+Martini.
+
+"Will you stop to dinner with me? Fabrizi
+and Sacconi have promised to stay."
+
+"Thanks; but I was going to see Signora Bolla
+home."
+
+"Are you really afraid I can't get home by
+myself?" she asked, rising and putting on her
+wrap. "Of course he will stay with you, Dr. Riccardo;
+it's good for him to get a change. He doesn't go out
+half enough."
+
+"If you will allow me, I will see you home," the
+Gadfly interposed; "I am going in that direction."
+
+"If you really are going that way----"
+
+"I suppose you won't have time to drop in here
+in the course of the evening, will you, Rivarez?"
+asked Riccardo, as he opened the door for them.
+
+The Gadfly looked back over his shoulder,
+laughing. "I, my dear fellow? I'm going to see
+the variety show!"
+
+"What a strange creature that is; and what an
+odd affection for mountebanks!" said Riccardo,
+coming back to his visitors.
+
+"Case of a fellow-feeling, I should think," said
+Martini; "the man's a mountebank himself, if ever
+I saw one."
+
+"I wish I could think he was only that," Fabrizi
+interposed, with a grave face. "If he is a mountebank
+I am afraid he's a very dangerous one."
+
+"Dangerous in what way?"
+
+"Well, I don't like those mysterious little pleasure
+trips that he is so fond of taking. This is the
+third time, you know; and I don't believe he has
+been in Pisa at all."
+
+"I suppose it is almost an open secret that it's
+into the mountains he goes," said Sacconi. "He
+has hardly taken the trouble to deny that he is
+still in relations with the smugglers he got to
+know in the Savigno affair, and it's quite natural
+he should take advantage of their friendship to
+get his leaflets across the Papal frontier."
+
+"For my part," said Riccardo; "what I wanted
+to talk to you about is this very question. It
+occurred to me that we could hardly do better than
+ask Rivarez to undertake the management of our
+own smuggling. That press at Pistoja is very
+inefficiently managed, to my thinking; and the
+way the leaflets are taken across, always rolled in
+those everlasting cigars, is more than primitive."
+
+"It has answered pretty well up till now," said
+Martini contumaciously. He was getting wearied
+of hearing Galli and Riccardo always put the Gadfly
+forward as a model to copy, and inclined to
+think that the world had gone well enough before
+this "lackadaisical buccaneer" turned up to set
+everyone to rights.
+
+"It has answered so far well that we have been
+satisfied with it for want of anything better;
+but you know there have been plenty of arrests and
+confiscations. Now I believe that if Rivarez undertook
+the business for us, there would be less of that."
+
+"Why do you think so?"
+
+"In the first place, the smugglers look upon
+us as strangers to do business with, or as sheep to
+fleece, whereas Rivarez is their personal friend,
+very likely their leader, whom they look up to and
+trust. You may be sure every smuggler in the
+Apennines will do for a man who was in the Savigno
+revolt what he will not do for us. In the
+next place, there's hardly a man among us that
+knows the mountains as Rivarez does. Remember,
+he has been a fugitive among them, and knows
+the smugglers' paths by heart. No smuggler
+would dare to cheat him, even if he wished to, and
+no smuggler could cheat him if he dared to try."
+
+"Then is your proposal that we should ask him
+to take over the whole management of our literature
+on the other side of the frontier--distribution,
+addresses, hiding-places, everything--or simply
+that we should ask him to put the things across
+for us?"
+
+"Well, as for addresses and hiding-places, he
+probably knows already all the ones that we have
+and a good many more that we have not. I don't
+suppose we should be able to teach him much in
+that line. As for distribution, it's as the others
+prefer, of course. The important question, to my
+mind, is the actual smuggling itself. Once the
+books are safe in Bologna, it's a comparatively
+simple matter to circulate them."
+
+"For my part," said Martini, "I am against the
+plan. In the first place, all this about his skilfulness
+is mere conjecture; we have not actually seen
+him engaged in frontier work and do not know
+whether he keeps his head in critical moments."
+
+"Oh, you needn't have any doubt of that!"
+Riccardo put in. "The history of the Savigno
+affair proves that he keeps his head."
+
+"And then," Martini went on; "I do not feel
+at all inclined, from what little I know of Rivarez,
+to intrust him with all the party's secrets. He
+seems to me feather-brained and theatrical. To
+give the whole management of a party's contraband
+work into a man's hands is a serious matter.
+Fabrizi, what do you think?"
+
+"If I had only such objections as yours, Martini,"
+replied the professor, "I should certainly
+waive them in the case of a man really possessing,
+as Rivarez undoubtedly does, all the qualifications
+Riccardo speaks of. For my part, I have not the
+slightest doubt as to either his courage, his honesty,
+or his presence of mind; and that he knows
+both mountains and mountaineers we have had
+ample proof. But there is another objection. I
+do not feel sure that it is only for the smuggling
+of pamphlets he goes into the mountains. I have
+begun to doubt whether he has not another purpose.
+This is, of course, entirely between ourselves.
+It is a mere suspicion. It seems to me
+just possible that he is in connexion with some
+one of the 'sects,' and perhaps with the most dangerous
+of them."
+
+"Which one do you mean--the 'Red Girdles'?"
+
+"No; the 'Occoltellatori.'"
+
+"The 'Knifers'! But that is a little body of
+outlaws--peasants, most of them, with neither
+education nor political experience."
+
+"So were the insurgents of Savigno; but they
+had a few educated men as leaders, and this little
+society may have the same. And remember, it's
+pretty well known that most of the members of
+those more violent sects in the Romagna are survivors
+of the Savigno affair, who found themselves
+too weak to fight the Churchmen in open insurrection,
+and so have fallen back on assassination.
+Their hands are not strong enough for guns, and
+they take to knives instead."
+
+"But what makes you suppose Rivarez to be
+connected with them?"
+
+"I don't suppose, I merely suspect. In any
+case, I think we had better find out for certain
+before we intrust our smuggling to him. If he
+attempted to do both kinds of work at once he
+would injure our party most terribly; he would
+simply destroy its reputation and accomplish
+nothing. However, we will talk of that another
+time. I wanted to speak to you about the news
+from Rome. It is said that a commission is to
+be appointed to draw up a project for a municipal
+constitution."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+GEMMA and the Gadfly walked silently along
+the Lung'Arno. His feverish talkativeness seemed
+to have quite spent itself; he had hardly spoken
+a word since they left Riccardo's door, and
+Gemma was heartily glad of his silence. She
+always felt embarrassed in his company, and to-day
+more so than usual, for his strange behaviour
+at the committee meeting had greatly perplexed
+her.
+
+By the Uffizi palace he suddenly stopped and
+turned to her.
+
+"Are you tired?"
+
+"No; why?"
+
+"Nor especially busy this evening?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I want to ask a favour of you; I want you to
+come for a walk with me."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"Nowhere in particular; anywhere you like."
+
+"But what for?"
+
+He hesitated.
+
+"I--can't tell you--at least, it's very difficult;
+but please come if you can."
+
+He raised his eyes suddenly from the ground,
+and she saw how strange their expression was.
+
+"There is something the matter with you," she
+said gently. He pulled a leaf from the flower in
+his button-hole, and began tearing it to pieces.
+Who was it that he was so oddly like? Someone
+who had that same trick of the fingers and hurried,
+nervous gesture.
+
+"I am in trouble," he said, looking down at his
+hands and speaking in a hardly audible voice. "I
+--don't want to be alone this evening. Will you
+come?"
+
+"Yes, certainly, unless you would rather go to
+my lodgings."
+
+"No; come and dine with me at a restaurant.
+There's one on the Signoria. Please don't refuse,
+now; you've promised!"
+
+They went into a restaurant, where he ordered
+dinner, but hardly touched his own share, and
+remained obstinately silent, crumbling the bread
+over the cloth, and fidgeting with the fringe of
+his table napkin. Gemma felt thoroughly uncomfortable,
+and began to wish she had refused to
+come; the silence was growing awkward; yet she
+could not begin to make small-talk with a person
+who seemed to have forgotten her presence. At
+last he looked up and said abruptly:
+
+"Would you like to see the variety show?"
+
+She stared at him in astonishment. What had
+he got into his head about variety shows?
+
+"Have you ever seen one?" he asked before she
+had time to speak.
+
+"No; I don't think so. I didn't suppose they
+were interesting."
+
+"They are very interesting. I don't think anyone
+can study the life of the people without seeing
+them. Let us go back to the Porta alla Croce."
+
+When they arrived the mountebanks had set up
+their tent beside the town gate, and an abominable
+scraping of fiddles and banging of drums
+announced that the performance had begun.
+
+The entertainment was of the roughest kind.
+A few clowns, harlequins, and acrobats, a circus-rider
+jumping through hoops, the painted columbine,
+and the hunchback performing various dull
+and foolish antics, represented the entire force of
+the company. The jokes were not, on the whole,
+coarse or offensive; but they were very tame and
+stale, and there was a depressing flatness about
+the whole thing. The audience laughed and
+clapped from their innate Tuscan courtesy; but
+the only part which they seemed really to enjoy
+was the performance of the hunchback, in which
+Gemma could find nothing either witty or skilful.
+It was merely a series of grotesque and hideous
+contortions, which the spectators mimicked, holding
+up children on their shoulders that the little
+ones might see the "ugly man."
+
+"Signor Rivarez, do you really think this
+attractive?" said Gemma, turning to the Gadfly,
+who was standing beside her, his arm round one
+of the wooden posts of the tent. "It seems to
+me----"
+
+She broke off and remained looking at him
+silently. Except when she had stood with Montanelli
+at the garden gate in Leghorn, she had
+never seen a human face express such fathomless,
+hopeless misery. She thought of Dante's hell as
+she watched him.
+
+Presently the hunchback, receiving a kick from
+one of the clowns, turned a somersault and tumbled
+in a grotesque heap outside the ring. A dialogue
+between two clowns began, and the Gadfly
+seemed to wake out of a dream.
+
+"Shall we go?" he asked; "or would you like
+to see more?"
+
+"I would rather go."
+
+They left the tent, and walked across the dark
+green to the river. For a few moments neither
+spoke.
+
+"What did you think of the show?" the Gadfly
+asked presently.
+
+"I thought it rather a dreary business; and
+part of it seemed to me positively unpleasant."
+
+"Which part?"
+
+"Well, all those grimaces and contortions.
+They are simply ugly; there is nothing clever
+about them."
+
+"Do you mean the hunchback's performance?"
+
+Remembering his peculiar sensitiveness on the
+subject of his own physical defects, she had
+avoided mentioning this particular bit of the
+entertainment; but now that he had touched upon
+the subject himself, she answered: "Yes; I did
+not like that part at all."
+
+"That was the part the people enjoyed most."
+
+"I dare say; and that is just the worst thing
+about it."
+
+"Because it was inartistic?"
+
+"N-no; it was all inartistic. I meant--because
+it was cruel."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"Cruel? Do you mean to the hunchback?"
+
+"I mean---- Of course the man himself was
+quite indifferent; no doubt, it is to him just a way
+of getting a living, like the circus-rider's way or
+the columbine's. But the thing makes one feel
+unhappy. It is humiliating; it is the degradation
+of a human being."
+
+"He probably is not any more degraded than
+he was to start with. Most of us are degraded in
+one way or another."
+
+"Yes; but this--I dare say you will think it
+an absurd prejudice; but a human body, to me, is
+a sacred thing; I don't like to see it treated
+irreverently and made hideous."
+
+"And a human soul?"
+
+He had stopped short, and was standing with
+one hand on the stone balustrade of the embankment,
+looking straight at her.
+
+"A soul?" she repeated, stopping in her turn
+to look at him in wonder.
+
+He flung out both hands with a sudden, passionate gesture.
+
+"Has it never occurred to you that that miserable
+clown may have a soul--a living, struggling,
+human soul, tied down into that crooked hulk of
+a body and forced to slave for it? You that are so
+tender-hearted to everything--you that pity the
+body in its fool's dress and bells--have you never
+thought of the wretched soul that has not even
+motley to cover its horrible nakedness? Think
+of it shivering with cold, stilled with shame and
+misery, before all those people--feeling their jeers
+that cut like a whip--their laughter, that burns
+like red-hot iron on the bare flesh! Think of it
+looking round--so helpless before them all--for
+the mountains that will not fall on it--for the rocks
+that have not the heart to cover it--envying the
+rats that can creep into some hole in the earth
+and hide; and remember that a soul is dumb--it
+has no voice to cry out--it must endure, and endure,
+and endure. Oh! I'm talking nonsense!
+Why on earth don't you laugh? You have no
+sense of humour!"
+
+Slowly and in dead silence she turned and
+walked on along the river side. During the whole
+evening it had not once occurred to her to connect
+his trouble, whatever it might be, with the
+variety show; and now that some dim picture of
+his inner life had been revealed to her by this sudden
+outburst, she could not find, in her overwhelming
+pity for him, one word to say. He
+walked on beside her, with his head turned away,
+and looked into the water.
+
+"I want you, please, to understand," he began
+suddenly, turning to her with a defiant air, "that
+everything I have just been saying to you is pure
+imagination. I'm rather given to romancing, but
+I don't like people to take it seriously."
+
+She made no answer, and they walked on in
+silence. As they passed by the gateway of the
+Uffizi, he crossed the road and stooped down
+over a dark bundle that was lying against the
+railings.
+
+"What is the matter, little one?" he asked,
+more gently than she had ever heard him speak.
+"Why don't you go home?"
+
+The bundle moved, and answered something in
+a low, moaning voice. Gemma came across to
+look, and saw a child of about six years old,
+ragged and dirty, crouching on the pavement like a
+frightened animal. The Gadfly was bending down
+with his hand on the unkempt head.
+
+"What is it?" he said, stooping lower to catch
+the unintelligible answer. "You ought to go
+home to bed; little boys have no business out of
+doors at night; you'll be quite frozen! Give me
+your hand and jump up like a man! Where do
+you live?"
+
+He took the child's arm to raise him. The result
+was a sharp scream and a quick shrinking away.
+
+"Why, what is it?" the Gadfly asked, kneeling
+down on the pavement. "Ah! Signora, look
+here!"
+
+The child's shoulder and jacket were covered
+with blood.
+
+"Tell me what has happened?" the Gadfly
+went on caressingly. "It wasn't a fall, was it?
+No? Someone's been beating you? I thought
+so! Who was it?"
+
+"My uncle."
+
+"Ah, yes! And when was it?"
+
+"This morning. He was drunk, and I--I----"
+
+"And you got in his way--was that it? You
+shouldn't get in people's way when they are
+drunk, little man; they don't like it. What shall
+we do with this poor mite, signora? Come here
+to the light, sonny, and let me look at that
+shoulder. Put your arm round my neck; I won't
+hurt you. There we are!"
+
+He lifted the boy in his arms, and, carrying him
+across the street, set him down on the wide stone
+balustrade. Then, taking out a pocket-knife, he
+deftly ripped up the torn sleeve, supporting the
+child's head against his breast, while Gemma held
+the injured arm. The shoulder was badly bruised
+and grazed, and there was a deep gash on the arm.
+
+"That's an ugly cut to give a mite like you,"
+said the Gadfly, fastening his handkerchief round
+the wound to prevent the jacket from rubbing
+against it. "What did he do it with?"
+
+"The shovel. I went to ask him to give me a
+soldo to get some polenta at the corner shop, and
+he hit me with the shovel."
+
+The Gadfly shuddered. "Ah!" he said softly,
+"that hurts; doesn't it, little one?"
+
+"He hit me with the shovel--and I ran away--
+I ran away--because he hit me."
+
+"And you've been wandering about ever since,
+without any dinner?"
+
+Instead of answering, the child began to sob
+violently. The Gadfly lifted him off the balustrade.
+
+"There, there! We'll soon set all that straight.
+I wonder if we can get a cab anywhere. I'm afraid
+they'll all be waiting by the theatre; there's a
+grand performance going on to-night. I am sorry
+to drag you about so, signora; but----"
+
+"I would rather come with you. You may
+want help. Do you think you can carry him so
+far? Isn't he very heavy?"
+
+"Oh, I can manage, thank you."
+
+At the theatre door they found only a few cabs
+waiting, and these were all engaged. The performance
+was over, and most of the audience had
+gone. Zita's name was printed in large letters on
+the wall-placards; she had been dancing in the
+ballet. Asking Gemma to wait for him a moment,
+the Gadfly went round to the performers' entrance,
+and spoke to an attendant.
+
+"Has Mme. Reni gone yet?"
+
+"No, sir," the man answered, staring blankly
+at the spectacle of a well-dressed gentleman carrying
+a ragged street child in his arms, "Mme.
+Reni is just coming out, I think; her carriage is
+waiting for her. Yes; there she comes."
+
+Zita descended the stairs, leaning on the arm of
+a young cavalry officer. She looked superbly
+handsome, with an opera cloak of flame-coloured
+velvet thrown over her evening dress, and a great
+fan of ostrich plumes hanging from her waist. In
+the entry she stopped short, and, drawing her
+hand away from the officer's arm, approached the
+Gadfly in amazement.
+
+"Felice!" she exclaimed under her breath,
+"what HAVE you got there?"
+
+"I have picked up this child in the street. It is
+hurt and starving; and I want to get it home as
+quickly as possible. There is not a cab to be got
+anywhere, so I want to have your carriage."
+
+"Felice! you are not going to take a horrid
+beggar-child into your rooms! Send for a policeman,
+and let him carry it to the Refuge or whatever
+is the proper place for it. You can't have all
+the paupers in the town----"
+
+"It is hurt," the Gadfly repeated; "it can go
+to the Refuge to-morrow, if necessary, but I must
+see to the child first and give it some food."
+
+Zita made a little grimace of disgust. "You've
+got its head right against your shirt! How CAN
+you? It is dirty!"
+
+The Gadfly looked up with a sudden flash of anger.
+
+"It is hungry," he said fiercely. "You don't
+know what that means, do you?"
+
+"Signer Rivarez," interposed Gemma, coming
+forward, "my lodgings are quite close. Let us
+take the child in there. Then, if you cannot find
+a vettura, I will manage to put it up for the
+night."
+
+He turned round quickly. "You don't mind?"
+
+"Of course not. Good-night, Mme. Reni!"
+
+The gipsy, with a stiff bow and an angry shrug
+of her shoulders, took her officer's arm again, and,
+gathering up the train of her dress, swept past
+them to the contested carriage.
+
+"I will send it back to fetch you and the child,
+if you like, M. Rivarez," she said, pausing on the
+doorstep.
+
+"Very well; I will give the address." He came
+out on to the pavement, gave the address to the
+driver, and walked back to Gemma with his burden.
+
+Katie was waiting up for her mistress; and, on
+hearing what had happened, ran for warm water
+and other necessaries. Placing the child on a
+chair, the Gadfly knelt down beside him, and,
+deftly slipping off the ragged clothing, bathed
+and bandaged the wound with tender, skilful
+hands. He had just finished washing the boy, and
+was wrapping him in a warm blanket, when
+Gemma came in with a tray in her hands.
+
+"Is your patient ready for his supper?" she
+asked, smiling at the strange little figure. "I
+have been cooking it for him."
+
+The Gadfly stood up and rolled the dirty rags
+together. "I'm afraid we have made a terrible
+mess in your room," he said. "As for these, they
+had better go straight into the fire, and I will buy
+him some new clothes to-morrow. Have you any
+brandy in the house, signora? I think he ought
+to have a little. I will just wash my hands, if you
+will allow me."
+
+When the child had finished his supper, he
+immediately went to sleep in the Gadfly's arms, with
+his rough head against the white shirt-front.
+Gemma, who had been helping Katie to set the
+disordered room tidy again, sat down at the table.
+
+"Signor Rivarez, you must take something
+before you go home--you had hardly any dinner,
+and it's very late."
+
+"I should like a cup of tea in the English fashion,
+if you have it. I'm sorry to keep you up so late."
+
+"Oh! that doesn't matter. Put the child down
+on the sofa; he will tire you. Wait a minute; I
+will just lay a sheet over the cushions. What are
+you going to do with him?"
+
+"To-morrow? Find out whether he has any
+other relations except that drunken brute; and
+if not, I suppose I must follow Mme. Reni's advice,
+and take him to the Refuge. Perhaps the
+kindest thing to do would be to put a stone round
+his neck and pitch him into the river there; but
+that would expose me to unpleasant consequences.
+Fast asleep! What an odd little lump of ill-luck
+you are, you mite--not half as capable of defending
+yourself as a stray cat!"
+
+When Katie brought in the tea-tray, the boy
+opened his eyes and sat up with a bewildered air.
+Recognizing the Gadfly, whom he already regarded
+as his natural protector, he wriggled off
+the sofa, and, much encumbered by the folds of
+his blanket, came up to nestle against him. He
+was by now sufficiently revived to be inquisitive;
+and, pointing to the mutilated left hand, in which
+the Gadfly was holding a piece of cake, asked:
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"That? Cake; do you want some? I think
+you've had enough for now. Wait till to-morrow,
+little man."
+
+"No--that!" He stretched out his hand and
+touched the stumps of the amputated fingers and
+the great scar on the wrist. The Gadfly put down
+his cake.
+
+"Oh, that! It's the same sort of thing as what
+you have on your shoulder--a hit I got from
+someone stronger than I was."
+
+"Didn't it hurt awfully?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know--not more than other
+things. There, now, go to sleep again; you have
+no business asking questions at this time of night."
+
+When the carriage arrived the boy was again
+asleep; and the Gadfly, without awaking him,
+lifted him gently and carried him out on to the
+stairs.
+
+"You have been a sort of ministering angel to
+me to-day," he said to Gemma, pausing at the
+door. "But I suppose that need not prevent us
+from quarrelling to our heart's content in future."
+
+"I have no desire to quarrel with anyone."
+
+"Ah! but I have. Life would be unendurable
+without quarrels. A good quarrel is the salt of
+the earth; it's better than a variety show!"
+
+And with that he went downstairs, laughing
+softly to himself, with the sleeping child in his
+arms.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+ONE day in the first week of January Martini,
+who had sent round the forms of invitation to the
+monthly group-meeting of the literary committee,
+received from the Gadfly a laconic, pencil-scrawled
+"Very sorry: can't come." He was a
+little annoyed, as a notice of "important business"
+had been put into the invitation; this cavalier
+treatment seemed to him almost insolent.
+Moreover, three separate letters containing bad
+news arrived during the day, and the wind was in
+the east, so that Martini felt out of sorts and out
+of temper; and when, at the group meeting, Dr.
+Riccardo asked, "Isn't Rivarez here?" he answered
+rather sulkily: "No; he seems to have
+got something more interesting on hand, and
+can't come, or doesn't want to."
+
+"Really, Martini," said Galli irritably, "you
+are about the most prejudiced person in Florence.
+Once you object to a man, everything he does is
+wrong. How could Rivarez come when he's ill?"
+
+"Who told you he was ill?"
+
+"Didn't you know? He's been laid up for the
+last four days."
+
+"What's the matter with him?"
+
+"I don't know. He had to put off an appointment
+with me on Thursday on account of illness;
+and last night, when I went round, I heard that
+he was too ill to see anyone. I thought Riccardo
+would be looking after him."
+
+"I knew nothing about it. I'll go round to-night
+and see if he wants anything."
+
+The next morning Riccardo, looking very pale
+and tired, came into Gemma's little study. She
+was sitting at the table, reading out monotonous
+strings of figures to Martini, who, with a magnifying
+glass in one hand and a finely pointed pencil
+in the other, was making tiny marks in the pages
+of a book. She made with one hand a gesture requesting
+silence. Riccardo, knowing that a person who is writing
+in cipher must not be interrupted, sat down on the sofa
+behind her and yawned like a man who can hardly keep awake.
+
+"2, 4; 3, 7; 6, 1; 3, 5; 4> 1;" Gemma's voice
+went on with machine-like evenness. "8, 4; 7, 2;
+5, 1; that finishes the sentence, Cesare."
+
+She stuck a pin into the paper to mark the
+exact place, and turned round.
+
+"Good-morning, doctor; how fagged you look!
+Are you well?"
+
+"Oh, I'm well enough--only tired out. I've
+had an awful night with Rivarez."
+
+"With Rivarez?"
+
+"Yes; I've been up with him all night, and now
+I must go off to my hospital patients. I just
+came round to know whether you can think of
+anyone that could look after him a bit for the
+next few days. He's in a devil of a state. I'll do
+my best, of course; but I really haven't the time;
+and he won't hear of my sending in a nurse."
+
+"What is the matter with him?"
+
+"Well, rather a complication of things. First
+of all----"
+
+"First of all, have you had any breakfast?"
+
+"Yes, thank you. About Rivarez--no doubt,
+it's complicated with a lot of nerve trouble; but
+the main cause of disturbance is an old injury
+that seems to have been disgracefully neglected.
+Altogether, he's in a frightfully knocked-about
+state; I suppose it was that war in South America
+--and he certainly didn't get proper care when
+the mischief was done. Probably things were
+managed in a very rough-and-ready fashion out
+there; he's lucky to be alive at all. However,
+there's a chronic tendency to inflammation, and
+any trifle may bring on an attack----"
+
+"Is that dangerous?"
+
+"N-no; the chief danger in a case of that kind
+is of the patient getting desperate and taking a
+dose of arsenic."
+
+"It is very painful, of course?"
+
+"It's simply horrible; I don't know how he
+manages to bear it. I was obliged to stupefy him
+with opium in the night--a thing I hate to do
+with a nervous patient; but I had to stop it
+somehow."
+
+"He is nervous, I should think."
+
+"Very, but splendidly plucky. As long as he
+was not actually light-headed with the pain last
+night, his coolness was quite wonderful. But I
+had an awful job with him towards the end. How
+long do you suppose this thing has been going
+on? Just five nights; and not a soul within call
+except that stupid landlady, who wouldn't wake
+if the house tumbled down, and would be no use
+if she did."
+
+"But what about the ballet-girl?"
+
+"Yes; isn't that a curious thing? He won't
+let her come near him. He has a morbid horror of
+her. Altogether, he's one of the most incomprehensible
+creatures I ever met--a perfect mass of contradictions."
+
+He took out his watch and looked at it with a
+preoccupied face. "I shall be late at the hospital;
+but it can't be helped. The junior will have to
+begin without me for once. I wish I had known
+of all this before--it ought not to have been let
+go on that way night after night."
+
+"But why on earth didn't he send to say he
+was ill?" Martini interrupted. "He might have
+guessed we shouldn't have left him stranded in
+that fashion."
+
+"I wish, doctor," said Gemma, "that you had
+sent for one of us last night, instead of wearing
+yourself out like this."
+
+"My dear lady, I wanted to send round to
+Galli; but Rivarez got so frantic at the suggestion
+that I didn't dare attempt it. When I asked
+him whether there was anyone else he would like
+fetched, he looked at me for a minute, as if he
+were scared out of his wits, and then put up both
+hands to his eyes and said: 'Don't tell them;
+they will laugh!' He seemed quite possessed
+with some fancy about people laughing at something.
+I couldn't make out what; he kept talking Spanish;
+but patients do say the oddest things sometimes."
+
+"Who is with him now?" asked Gemma.
+
+"No one except the landlady and her maid."
+
+"I'll go to him at once," said Martini.
+
+"Thank you. I'll look round again in the
+evening. You'll find a paper of written directions
+in the table-drawer by the large window, and the
+opium is on the shelf in the next room. If the
+pain comes on again, give him another dose--not
+more than one; but don't leave the bottle where
+he can get at it, whatever you do; he might be
+tempted to take too much."
+
+When Martini entered the darkened room, the
+Gadfly turned his head round quickly, and, holding
+out to him a burning hand, began, in a bad
+imitation of his usual flippant manner:
+
+"Ah, Martini! You have come to rout me out
+about those proofs. It's no use swearing at me
+for missing the committee last night; the fact is,
+I have not been quite well, and----"
+
+"Never mind the committee. I have just seen
+Riccardo, and have come to know if I can be of
+any use."
+
+The Gadfly set his face like a flint.
+
+"Oh, really! that is very kind of you; but it
+wasn't worth the trouble. I'm only a little out
+of sorts."
+
+"So I understood from Riccardo. He was up
+with you all night, I believe."
+
+The Gadfly bit his lip savagely.
+
+"I am quite comfortable, thank you, and don't
+want anything."
+
+"Very well; then I will sit in the other room;
+perhaps you would rather be alone. I will leave
+the door ajar, in case you call me."
+
+"Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't
+want anything. I should be wasting your time for
+nothing."
+
+"Nonsense, man!" Martini broke in roughly.
+"What's the use of trying to fool me that way?
+Do you think I have no eyes? Lie still and go to
+sleep, if you can."
+
+He went into the adjoining room, and, leaving
+the door open, sat down with a book. Presently
+he heard the Gadfly move restlessly two or three
+times. He put down his book and listened.
+There was a short silence, then another restless
+movement; then the quick, heavy, panting breath
+of a man clenching his teeth to suppress a groan.
+He went back into the room.
+
+"Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?"
+
+There was no answer, and he crossed the room
+to the bed-side. The Gadfly, with a ghastly, livid
+face, looked at him for a moment, and silently
+shook his head.
+
+"Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo
+said you were to have it if the pain got very bad."
+
+"No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer.
+It may be worse later on."
+
+Martini shrugged his shoulders and sat down
+beside the bed. For an interminable hour he
+watched in silence; then he rose and fetched the
+opium.
+
+"Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if
+you can stand it, I can't. You must have the stuff."
+
+The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he
+turned away and closed his eyes. Martini sat
+down again, and listened as the breathing became
+gradually deep and even.
+
+The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake
+easily when once asleep. Hour after hour he lay
+absolutely motionless. Martini approached him
+several times during the day and evening, and
+looked at the still figure; but, except the breathing,
+there was no sign of life. The face was so
+wan and colourless that at last a sudden fear seized
+upon him; what if he had given too much opium?
+The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, and he
+shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did
+so, the unfastened sleeve fell back, showing a
+series of deep and fearful scars covering the arm
+from wrist to elbow.
+
+"That arm must have been in a pleasant condition
+when those marks were fresh," said Riccardo's voice
+behind him.
+
+"Ah, there you are at last! Look here,
+Riccardo; ought this man to sleep forever? I
+gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he
+hasn't moved a muscle since."
+
+Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment.
+
+"No; he is breathing quite properly; it's nothing
+but sheer exhaustion--what you might expect
+after such a night. There may be another
+paroxysm before morning. Someone will sit up,
+I hope?"
+
+"Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here
+by ten."
+
+"It's nearly that now. Ah, he's waking! Just
+see the maidservant gets that broth hot. Gently
+--gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn't
+fight, man; I'm not a bishop!"
+
+The Gadfly started up with a shrinking, scared
+look. "Is it my turn?" he said hurriedly in
+Spanish. "Keep the people amused a minute;
+I----  Ah! I didn't see you, Riccardo."
+
+He looked round the room and drew one hand
+across his forehead as if bewildered. "Martini!
+Why, I thought you had gone away. I must have
+been asleep."
+
+"You have been sleeping like the beauty in the
+fairy story for the last ten hours; and now you are
+to have some broth and go to sleep again."
+
+"Ten hours! Martini, surely you haven't been
+here all that time?"
+
+"Yes; I was beginning to wonder whether I
+hadn't given you an overdose of opium."
+
+The Gadfly shot a sly glance at him.
+
+"No such luck! Wouldn't you have nice quiet
+committee-meetings? What the devil do you
+want, Riccardo? Do for mercy's sake leave me in
+peace, can't you? I hate being mauled about by
+doctors."
+
+"Well then, drink this and I'll leave you in
+peace. I shall come round in a day or two,
+though, and give you a thorough overhauling. I
+think you have pulled through the worst of this
+business now; you don't look quite so much like
+a death's head at a feast."
+
+"Oh, I shall be all right soon, thanks. Who's
+that--Galli? I seem to have a collection of all
+the graces here to-night."
+
+"I have come to stop the night with you."
+
+"Nonsense! I don't want anyone. Go home,
+all the lot of you. Even if the thing should come
+on again, you can't help me; I won't keep taking
+opium. It's all very well once in a way."
+
+"I'm afraid you're right," Riccardo said.
+"But that's not always an easy resolution to stick
+to."
+
+The Gadfly looked up, smiling. "No fear!
+If I'd been going in for that sort of thing, I should
+have done it long ago."
+
+"Anyway, you are not going to be left alone,"
+Riccardo answered drily. "Come into the other
+room a minute, Galli; I want to speak to you.
+Good-night, Rivarez; I'll look in to-morrow."
+
+Martini was following them out of the room
+when he heard his name softly called. The Gadfly
+was holding out a hand to him.
+
+"Thank you!"
+
+"Oh, stuff! Go to sleep."
+
+When Riccardo had gone, Martini remained a
+few minutes in the outer room, talking with Galli.
+As he opened the front door of the house he heard
+a carriage stop at the garden gate and saw a
+woman's figure get out and come up the path. It
+was Zita, returning, evidently, from some evening
+entertainment. He lifted his hat and stood aside
+to let her pass, then went out into the dark lane
+leading from the house to the Poggio Imperiale.
+Presently the gate clicked and rapid footsteps
+came down the lane.
+
+"Wait a minute!" she said.
+
+When he turned back to meet her she stopped
+short, and then came slowly towards him, dragging
+one hand after her along the hedge. There
+was a single street-lamp at the corner, and he saw
+by its light that she was hanging her head down
+as though embarrassed or ashamed.
+
+"How is he?" she asked without looking up.
+
+"Much better than he was this morning. He
+has been asleep most of the day and seems less
+exhausted. I think the attack is passing over."
+
+She still kept her eyes on the ground.
+
+"Has it been very bad this time?"
+
+"About as bad as it can well be, I should
+think."
+
+"I thought so. When he won't let me come
+into the room, that always means it's bad."
+
+"Does he often have attacks like this?"
+
+"That depends---- It's so irregular. Last
+summer, in Switzerland, he was quite well; but
+the winter before, when we were in Vienna, it was
+awful. He wouldn't let me come near him for
+days together. He hates to have me about when
+he's ill."
+
+She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her
+eyes again, went on:
+
+"He always used to send me off to a ball, or
+concert, or something, on one pretext or another,
+when he felt it coming on. Then he would lock
+himself into his room. I used to slip back and sit
+outside the door--he would have been furious if
+he'd known. He'd let the dog come in if it
+whined, but not me. He cares more for it, I
+think."
+
+There was a curious, sullen defiance in her
+manner.
+
+"Well, I hope it won't be so bad any more,"
+said Martini kindly. "Dr. Riccardo is taking the
+case seriously in hand. Perhaps he will be able to
+make a permanent improvement. And, in any
+case, the treatment gives relief at the moment.
+But you had better send to us at once, another
+time. He would have suffered very much less if
+we had known of it earlier. Good-night!"
+
+He held out his hand, but she drew back with
+a quick gesture of refusal.
+
+"I don't see why you want to shake hands with
+his mistress."
+
+"As you like, of course," he began in embarrassment.
+
+She stamped her foot on the ground. "I hate
+you!" she cried, turning on him with eyes like
+glowing coals. "I hate you all! You come here
+talking politics to him; and he lets you sit up the
+night with him and give him things to stop the
+pain, and I daren't so much as peep at him through
+the door! What is he to you? What right have
+you to come and steal him away from me? I hate
+you! I hate you! I HATE you!"
+
+She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting
+back into the garden, slammed the gate in his face.
+
+"Good Heavens!" said Martini to himself, as he
+walked down the lane. "That girl is actually
+in love with him! Of all the extraordinary
+things----"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+THE Gadfly's recovery was rapid. One afternoon
+in the following week Riccardo found him
+lying on the sofa in a Turkish dressing-gown,
+chatting with Martini and Galli. He even talked
+about going downstairs; but Riccardo merely
+laughed at the suggestion and asked whether he
+would like a tramp across the valley to Fiesole to
+start with.
+
+"You might go and call on the Grassinis for a
+change," he added wickedly. "I'm sure madame
+would be delighted to see you, especially now,
+when you look so pale and interesting."
+
+The Gadfly clasped his hands with a tragic
+gesture.
+
+"Bless my soul! I never thought of that!
+She'd take me for one of Italy's martyrs, and talk
+patriotism to me. I should have to act up to the
+part, and tell her I've been cut to pieces in an
+underground dungeon and stuck together again
+rather badly; and she'd want to know exactly what
+the process felt like. You don't think she'd believe
+it, Riccardo? I'll bet you my Indian dagger
+against the bottled tape-worm in your den that
+she'll swallow the biggest lie I can invent. That's
+a generous offer, and you'd better jump at it."
+
+"Thanks, I'm not so fond of murderous tools
+as you are."
+
+"Well, a tape-worm is as murderous as a dagger,
+any day, and not half so pretty."
+
+"But as it happens, my dear fellow, I don't
+want the dagger and I do want the tape-worm.
+Martini, I must run off. Are you in charge of this
+obstreperous patient?"
+
+"Only till three o'clock. Galli and I have to go
+to San Miniato, and Signora Bolla is coming till
+I can get back."
+
+"Signora Bolla!" the Gadfly repeated in a tone
+of dismay. "Why, Martini, this will never do!
+I can't have a lady bothered over me and my ailments.
+Besides, where is she to sit? She won't
+like to come in here."
+
+"Since when have you gone in so fiercely for the
+proprieties?" asked Riccardo, laughing. "My
+good man, Signora Bolla is head nurse in general
+to all of us. She has looked after sick people ever
+since she was in short frocks, and does it better
+than any sister of mercy I know. Won't like to
+come into your room! Why, you might be talking
+of the Grassini woman! I needn't leave any
+directions if she's coming, Martini. Heart alive,
+it's half-past two; I must be off!"
+
+"Now, Rivarez, take your physic before she
+comes," said Galli, approaching the sofa with a
+medicine glass.
+
+"Damn the physic!" The Gadfly had reached
+the irritable stage of convalescence, and was
+inclined to give his devoted nurses a bad time.
+"W-what do you want to d-d-dose me with all
+sorts of horrors for now the pain is gone?"
+
+"Just because I don't want it to come back.
+You wouldn't like it if you collapsed when Signora
+Bolla is here and she had to give you opium."
+
+"My g-good sir, if that pain is going to come
+back it will come; it's not a t-toothache to be
+frightened away with your trashy mixtures. They
+are about as much use as a t-toy squirt for a house
+on fire. However, I suppose you must have your
+way."
+
+He took the glass with his left hand, and the
+sight of the terrible scars recalled Galli to the
+former subject of conversation.
+
+"By the way," he asked; "how did you get so
+much knocked about? In the war, was it?"
+
+"Now, didn't I just tell you it was a case of
+secret dungeons and----"
+
+"Yes, that version is for Signora Grassini's
+benefit. Really, I suppose it was in the war with
+Brazil?"
+
+"Yes, I got a bit hurt there; and then hunting
+in the savage districts and one thing and another."
+
+"Ah, yes; on the scientific expedition. You
+can fasten your shirt; I have quite done. You
+seem to have had an exciting time of it out there."
+
+"Well, of course you can't live in savage countries
+without getting a few adventures once in a
+way," said the Gadfly lightly; "and you can
+hardly expect them all to be pleasant."
+
+"Still, I don't understand how you managed to
+get so much knocked about unless in a bad adventure
+with wild beasts--those scars on your left
+arm, for instance."
+
+"Ah, that was in a puma-hunt. You see, I had
+fired----"
+
+There was a knock at the door.
+
+"Is the room tidy, Martini? Yes? Then please
+open the door. This is really most kind, signora;
+you must excuse my not getting up."
+
+"Of course you mustn't get up; I have not come
+as a caller. I am a little early, Cesare. I thought
+perhaps you were in a hurry to go."
+
+"I can stop for a quarter of an hour. Let me
+put your cloak in the other room. Shall I take
+the basket, too?"
+
+"Take care; those are new-laid eggs. Katie
+brought them in from Monte Oliveto this morning.
+There are some Christmas roses for you,
+Signor Rivarez; I know you are fond of flowers."
+
+She sat down beside the table and began clipping
+the stalks of the flowers and arranging them
+in a vase.
+
+"Well, Rivarez," said Galli; "tell us the rest of
+the puma-hunt story; you had just begun."
+
+"Ah, yes! Galli was asking me about life in
+South America, signora; and I was telling him
+how I came to get my left arm spoiled. It was
+in Peru. We had been wading a river on a puma-hunt,
+and when I fired at the beast the powder
+wouldn't go off; it had got splashed with water.
+Naturally the puma didn't wait for me to rectify
+that; and this is the result."
+
+"That must have been a pleasant experience."
+
+"Oh, not so bad! One must take the rough
+with the smooth, of course; but it's a splendid
+life on the whole. Serpent-catching, for instance----"
+
+He rattled on, telling anecdote after anecdote;
+now of the Argentine war, now of the Brazilian
+expedition, now of hunting feats and adventures
+with savages or wild beasts. Galli, with the delight
+of a child hearing a fairy story, kept interrupting
+every moment to ask questions. He was
+of the impressionable Neapolitan temperament
+and loved everything sensational. Gemma took
+some knitting from her basket and listened
+silently, with busy fingers and downcast eyes.
+Martini frowned and fidgeted. The manner in
+which the anecdotes were told seemed to him
+boastful and self-conscious; and, notwithstanding
+his unwilling admiration for a man who could
+endure physical pain with the amazing fortitude
+which he had seen the week before, he genuinely
+disliked the Gadfly and all his works and ways.
+
+"It must have been a glorious life!" sighed
+Galli with naive envy. "I wonder you ever made
+up your mind to leave Brazil. Other countries
+must seem so flat after it!"
+
+"I think I was happiest in Peru and Ecuador,"
+said the Gadfly. "That really is a magnificent
+tract of country. Of course it is very hot, especially
+the coast district of Ecuador, and one has to
+rough it a bit; but the scenery is superb beyond
+imagination."
+
+"I believe," said Galli, "the perfect freedom of
+life in a barbarous country would attract me more
+than any scenery. A man must feel his personal,
+human dignity as he can never feel it in our
+crowded towns."
+
+"Yes," the Gadfly answered; "that is----"
+
+Gemma raised her eyes from her knitting and
+looked at him. He flushed suddenly scarlet and
+broke off. There was a little pause.
+
+"Surely it is not come on again?" asked Galli
+anxiously.
+
+"Oh, nothing to speak of, thanks to your
+s-s-soothing application that I b-b-blasphemed
+against. Are you going already, Martini?"
+
+"Yes. Come along, Galli; we shall be late."
+
+Gemma followed the two men out of the room,
+and presently returned with an egg beaten up in
+milk.
+
+"Take this, please," she said with mild authority;
+and sat down again to her knitting. The
+Gadfly obeyed meekly.
+
+For half an hour, neither spoke. Then the Gadfly
+said in a very low voice:
+
+"Signora Bolla!"
+
+She looked up. He was tearing the fringe of
+the couch-rug, and kept his eyes lowered.
+
+"You didn't believe I was speaking the truth
+just now," he began.
+
+"I had not the smallest doubt that you were
+telling falsehoods," she answered quietly.
+
+"You were quite right. I was telling falsehoods
+all the time."
+
+"Do you mean about the war?"
+
+"About everything. I was not in that war at
+all; and as for the expedition, I had a few adventures,
+of course, and most of those stories are true,
+but it was not that way I got smashed. You have
+detected me in one lie, so I may as well confess the
+lot, I suppose."
+
+"Does it not seem to you rather a waste of
+energy to invent so many falsehoods?" she asked.
+"I should have thought it was hardly worth the
+trouble."
+
+"What would you have? You know your own
+English proverb: 'Ask no questions and you'll be
+told no lies.' It's no pleasure to me to fool people
+that way, but I must answer them somehow when
+they ask what made a cripple of me; and I may as
+well invent something pretty while I'm about it.
+You saw how pleased Galli was."
+
+"Do you prefer pleasing Galli to speaking the truth?"
+
+"The truth!" He looked up with the torn
+fringe in his hand. "You wouldn't have me tell
+those people the truth? I'd cut my tongue out
+first!" Then with an awkward, shy abruptness:
+
+"I have never told it to anybody yet; but I'll tell
+you if you care to hear."
+
+She silently laid down her knitting. To her
+there was something grievously pathetic in this
+hard, secret, unlovable creature, suddenly flinging
+his personal confidence at the feet of a woman
+whom he barely knew and whom he apparently
+disliked.
+
+A long silence followed, and she looked up.
+He was leaning his left arm on the little table beside
+him, and shading his eyes with the mutilated
+hand, and she noticed the nervous tension of the
+fingers and the throbbing of the scar on the wrist.
+She came up to him and called him softly by name.
+He started violently and raised his head.
+
+"I f-forgot," he stammered apologetically. "I
+was g-going to t-tell you about----"
+
+"About the--accident or whatever it was that
+caused your lameness. But if it worries you----"
+
+"The accident? Oh, the smashing! Yes;
+only it wasn't an accident, it was a poker."
+
+She stared at him in blank amazement. He
+pushed back his hair with a hand that shook perceptibly,
+and looked up at her, smiling.
+
+"Won't you sit down? Bring your chair close,
+please. I'm so sorry I can't get it for you.
+R-really, now I come to think of it, the case would
+have been a p-perfect t-treasure-trove for Riccardo
+if he had had me to treat; he has the true surgeon's
+love for broken bones, and I believe everything
+in me that was breakable was broken on that
+occasion--except my neck."
+
+"And your courage," she put in softly. "But
+perhaps you count that among your unbreakable
+possessions."
+
+He shook his head. "No," he said; "my courage
+has been mended up after a fashion, with the
+rest of me; but it was fairly broken then, like a
+smashed tea-cup; that's the horrible part of it.
+Ah---- Yes; well, I was telling you about the
+poker.
+
+"It was--let me see--nearly thirteen years ago,
+in Lima. I told you Peru was a delightful country
+to live in; but it's not quite so nice for people that
+happen to be at low water, as I was. I had been
+down in the Argentine, and then in Chili, tramping
+the country and starving, mostly; and had
+come up from Valparaiso as odd-man on a cattle-boat.
+I couldn't get any work in Lima itself, so I
+went down to the docks,--they're at Callao, you
+know,--to try there. Well of course in all those
+shipping-ports there are low quarters where the
+sea-faring people congregate; and after some time
+I got taken on as servant in one of the gambling
+hells there. I had to do the cooking and billiard-marking,
+and fetch drink for the sailors and their
+women, and all that sort of thing. Not very
+pleasant work; still I was glad to get it; there was
+at least food and the sight of human faces and
+sound of human tongues--of a kind. You may
+think that was no advantage; but I had just been
+down with yellow fever, alone in the outhouse of a
+wretched half-caste shanty, and the thing had
+given me the horrors. Well, one night I was told
+to put out a tipsy Lascar who was making himself
+obnoxious; he had come ashore and lost all his
+money and was in a bad temper. Of course I had
+to obey if I didn't want to lose my place and
+starve; but the man was twice as strong as I--I
+was not twenty-one and as weak as a cat after the
+fever. Besides, he had the poker."
+
+He paused a moment, glancing furtively at her;
+then went on:
+
+"Apparently he intended to put an end to me
+altogether; but somehow he managed to scamp
+his work--Lascars always do if they have a
+chance; and left just enough of me not smashed to
+go on living with."
+
+"Yes, but the other people, could they not
+interfere? Were they all afraid of one Lascar?"
+
+He looked up and burst out laughing.
+
+"THE OTHER PEOPLE? The gamblers and the
+people of the house? Why, you don't understand!
+They were negroes and Chinese and Heaven knows
+what; and I was their servant--THEIR PROPERTY.
+They stood round and enjoyed the fun, of course.
+That sort of thing counts for a good joke out
+there. So it is if you don't happen to be the subject
+practised on."
+
+She shuddered.
+
+"Then what was the end of it?"
+
+"That I can't tell you much about; a man
+doesn't remember the next few days after a thing
+of that kind, as a rule. But there was a ship's
+surgeon near, and it seems that when they found I
+was not dead, somebody called him in. He
+patched me up after a fashion--Riccardo seems to
+think it was rather badly done, but that may be
+professional jealousy. Anyhow, when I came to
+my senses, an old native woman had taken me in
+for Christian charity--that sounds queer, doesn't
+it? She used to sit huddled up in the corner of
+the hut, smoking a black pipe and spitting on the
+floor and crooning to herself. However, she
+meant well, and she told me I might die in peace
+and nobody should disturb me. But the spirit of
+contradiction was strong in me and I elected to
+live. It was rather a difficult job scrambling back
+to life, and sometimes I am inclined to think it
+was a great deal of cry for very little wool. Anyway
+that old woman's patience was wonderful;
+she kept me--how long was it?--nearly four
+months lying in her hut, raving like a mad thing at
+intervals, and as vicious as a bear with a sore ear
+between-whiles. The pain was pretty bad, you
+see, and my temper had been spoiled in childhood
+with overmuch coddling."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Oh, then--I got up somehow and crawled
+away. No, don't think it was any delicacy about
+taking a poor woman's charity--I was past caring
+for that; it was only that I couldn't bear the place
+any longer. You talked just now about my courage;
+if you had seen me then! The worst of the
+pain used to come on every evening, about dusk;
+and in the afternoon I used to lie alone, and watch
+the sun get lower and lower---- Oh, you can't
+understand! It makes me sick to look at a sunset now!"
+
+A long pause.
+
+"Well, then I went up country, to see if I could
+get work anywhere--it would have driven me mad
+to stay in Lima. I got as far as Cuzco, and
+there------ Really I don't know why I'm inflicting
+all this ancient history on you; it hasn't even the
+merit of being funny."
+
+She raised her head and looked at him with deep
+and serious eyes. "PLEASE don't talk that way,"
+she said.
+
+He bit his lip and tore off another piece of the
+rug-fringe.
+
+"Shall I go on?" he asked after a moment.
+
+"If--if you will. I am afraid it is horrible to
+you to remember."
+
+"Do you think I forget when I hold my tongue?
+It's worse then. But don't imagine it's the thing
+itself that haunts me so. It is the fact of having
+lost the power over myself."
+
+"I--don't think I quite understand."
+
+"I mean, it is the fact of having come to the
+end of my courage, to the point where I found
+myself a coward."
+
+"Surely there is a limit to what anyone can bear."
+
+"Yes; and the man who has once reached
+that limit never knows when he may reach it
+again."
+
+"Would you mind telling me," she asked, hesitating,
+"how you came to be stranded out there alone at twenty?"
+
+"Very simply: I had a good opening in life, at
+home in the old country, and ran away from it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+He laughed again in his quick, harsh way.
+
+"Why? Because I was a priggish young cub,
+I suppose. I had been brought up in an over-luxurious
+home, and coddled and faddled after till
+I thought the world was made of pink cotton-wool
+and sugared almonds. Then one fine day I found
+out that someone I had trusted had deceived me.
+Why, how you start! What is it?"
+
+"Nothing. Go on, please."
+
+"I found out that I had been tricked into believing
+a lie; a common bit of experience, of course;
+but, as I tell you, I was young and priggish, and
+thought that liars go to hell. So I ran away from
+home and plunged into South America to sink or
+swim as I could, without a cent in my pocket or a
+word of Spanish in my tongue, or anything but
+white hands and expensive habits to get my bread
+with. And the natural result was that I got a dip
+into the real hell to cure me of imagining sham
+ones. A pretty thorough dip, too--it was just
+five years before the Duprez expedition came
+along and pulled me out."
+
+"Five years! Oh, that is terrible! And had
+you no friends?"
+
+"Friends! I"--he turned on her with sudden
+fierceness--"I have NEVER had a friend!"
+
+The next instant he seemed a little ashamed of
+his vehemence, and went on quickly:
+
+"You mustn't take all this too seriously; I dare
+say I made the worst of things, and really it wasn't
+so bad the first year and a half; I was young and
+strong and I managed to scramble along fairly
+well till the Lascar put his mark on me. But after
+that I couldn't get work. It's wonderful what an
+effectual tool a poker is if you handle it properly;
+and nobody cares to employ a cripple."
+
+"What sort of work did you do?"
+
+"What I could get. For some time I lived by
+odd-jobbing for the blacks on the sugar plantations,
+fetching and carrying and so on. It's one of
+the curious things in life, by the way, that slaves
+always contrive to have a slave of their own, and
+there's nothing a negro likes so much as a white
+fag to bully. But it was no use; the overseers
+always turned me off. I was too lame to be
+quick; and I couldn't manage the heavy loads.
+And then I was always getting these attacks
+of inflammation, or whatever the confounded
+thing is.
+
+"After some time I went down to the silver-mines
+and tried to get work there; but it was all
+no good. The managers laughed at the very
+notion of taking me on, and as for the men, they
+made a dead set at me."
+
+"Why was that?"
+
+"Oh, human nature, I suppose; they saw I had
+only one hand that I could hit back with. They're
+a mangy, half-caste lot; negroes and Zambos
+mostly. And then those horrible coolies! So at
+last I got enough of that, and set off to tramp the
+country at random; just wandering about, on the
+chance of something turning up."
+
+"To tramp? With that lame foot!"
+
+He looked up with a sudden, piteous catching
+of the breath.
+
+"I--I was hungry," he said.
+
+She turned her head a little away and rested her
+chin on one hand. After a moment's silence he
+began again, his voice sinking lower and lower as
+he spoke:
+
+"Well, I tramped, and tramped, till I was nearly
+mad with tramping, and nothing came of it. I
+got down into Ecuador, and there it was worse
+than ever. Sometimes I'd get a bit of tinkering
+to do,--I'm a pretty fair tinker,--or an errand to
+run, or a pigstye to clean out; sometimes I
+did--oh, I hardly know what. And then at last,
+one day------"
+
+The slender, brown hand clenched itself suddenly
+on the table, and Gemma, raising her head,
+glanced at him anxiously. His side-face was
+turned towards her, and she could see a vein on
+the temple beating like a hammer, with quick,
+irregular strokes. She bent forward and laid a
+gentle hand on his arm.
+
+"Never mind the rest; it's almost too horrible
+to talk about."
+
+He stared doubtfully at the hand, shook his
+head, and went on steadily:
+
+"Then one day I met a travelling variety show.
+You remember that one the other night; well, that
+sort of thing, only coarser and more indecent.
+The Zambos are not like these gentle Florentines;
+they don't care for anything that is not foul or
+brutal. There was bull-fighting, too, of course.
+They had camped out by the roadside for the
+night; and I went up to their tent to beg. Well,
+the weather was hot and I was half starved, and
+so--I fainted at the door of the tent. I had a
+trick of fainting suddenly at that time, like a
+boarding-school girl with tight stays. So they
+took me in and gave me brandy, and food, and so
+on; and then--the next morning--they offered
+me----"
+
+Another pause.
+
+"They wanted a hunchback, or monstrosity of
+some kind; for the boys to pelt with orange-peel
+and banana-skins--something to set the blacks
+laughing------ You saw the clown that night--
+well, I was that--for two years. I suppose you
+have a humanitarian feeling about negroes and
+Chinese. Wait till you've been at their mercy!
+
+"Well, I learned to do the tricks. I was not
+quite deformed enough; but they set that right
+with an artificial hump and made the most of this
+foot and arm---- And the Zambos are not critical;
+they're easily satisfied if only they can get
+hold of some live thing to torture--the fool's dress
+makes a good deal of difference, too.
+
+"The only difficulty was that I was so often ill
+and unable to play. Sometimes, if the manager
+was out of temper, he would insist on my coming
+into the ring when I had these attacks on; and I
+believe the people liked those evenings best.
+Once, I remember, I fainted right off with the pain
+in the middle of the performance---- When I
+came to my senses again, the audience had got
+round me--hooting and yelling and pelting me
+with------"
+
+"Don't! I can't hear any more! Stop, for
+God's sake!"
+
+She was standing up with both hands over her
+ears. He broke off, and, looking up, saw the
+glitter of tears in her eyes.
+
+"Damn it all, what an idiot I am!" he said
+under his breath.
+
+She crossed the room and stood for a little while
+looking out of the window. When she turned
+round, the Gadfly was again leaning on the table
+and covering his eyes with one hand. He had evidently
+forgotten her presence, and she sat down
+beside him without speaking. After a long silence
+she said slowly:
+
+"I want to ask you a question."
+
+"Yes?" without moving.
+
+"Why did you not cut your throat?"
+
+He looked up in grave surprise. "I did not expect
+YOU to ask that," he said. "And what about
+my work? Who would have done it for me?"
+
+"Your work---- Ah, I see! You talked just
+now about being a coward; well, if you have come
+through that and kept to your purpose, you are
+the very bravest man that I have ever met."
+
+He covered his eyes again, and held her hand in
+a close passionate clasp. A silence that seemed to
+have no end fell around them.
+
+Suddenly a clear and fresh soprano voice rang
+out from the garden below, singing a verse of a
+doggerel French song:
+
+
+  "Eh, Pierrot! Danse, Pierrot!
+   Danse un peu, mon pauvre Jeannot!
+   Vive la danse et l'allegresse!
+   Jouissons de notre bell' jeunesse!
+   Si moi je pleure ou moi je soupire,
+   Si moi je fais la triste figure--
+   Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!
+   Ha! Ha, ha, ha!
+   Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!"
+
+
+At the first words the Gadfly tore his hand from
+Gemma's and shrank away with a stifled groan.
+She clasped both hands round his arm and pressed
+it firmly, as she might have pressed that of a person
+undergoing a surgical operation. When the
+song broke off and a chorus of laughter and applause
+came from the garden, he looked up with
+the eyes of a tortured animal.
+
+"Yes, it is Zita," he said slowly; "with her
+officer friends. She tried to come in here the
+other night, before Riccardo came. I should have
+gone mad if she had touched me!"
+
+"But she does not know," Gemma protested
+softly. "She cannot guess that she is hurting
+you."
+
+"She is like a Creole," he answered, shuddering.
+"Do you remember her face that night when we
+brought in the beggar-child? That is how the
+half-castes look when they laugh."
+
+Another burst of laughter came from the garden.
+Gemma rose and opened the window. Zita, with
+a gold-embroidered scarf wound coquettishly
+round her head, was standing in the garden path,
+holding up a bunch of violets, for the possession
+of which three young cavalry officers appeared
+to be competing.
+
+"Mme. Reni!" said Gemma.
+
+Zita's face darkened like a thunder-cloud.
+"Madame?" she said, turning and raising her
+eyes with a defiant look.
+
+"Would your friends mind speaking a little
+more softly? Signor Rivarez is very unwell."
+
+The gipsy flung down her violets. "Allez-vous
+en!" she said, turning sharply on the astonished
+officers. "Vous m'embetez, messieurs!"
+
+She went slowly out into the road. Gemma
+closed the window.
+
+"They have gone away," she said, turning to
+him.
+
+"Thank you. I--I am sorry to have troubled
+you."
+
+"It was no trouble." He at once detected the
+hesitation in her voice.
+
+"'But?'" he said. "That sentence was not
+finished, signora; there was an unspoken 'but' in
+the back of your mind."
+
+"If you look into the backs of people's minds,
+you mustn't be offended at what you read there.
+It is not my affair, of course, but I cannot understand----"
+
+"My aversion to Mme. Reni? It is only when----"
+
+"No, your caring to live with her when you feel
+that aversion. It seems to me an insult to her as
+a woman and as----"
+
+"A woman!" He burst out laughing harshly.
+"Is THAT what you call a woman? 'Madame, ce
+n'est que pour rire!'"
+
+"That is not fair!" she said. "You have no
+right to speak of her in that way to anyone--
+especially to another woman!"
+
+He turned away, and lay with wide-open eyes,
+looking out of the window at the sinking sun. She
+lowered the blind and closed the shutters, that he
+might not see it set; then sat down at the table
+by the other window and took up her knitting
+again.
+
+"Would you like the lamp?" she asked after a moment.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+When it grew too dark to see, Gemma rolled up
+her knitting and laid it in the basket. For some
+time she sat with folded hands, silently watching
+the Gadfly's motionless figure. The dim evening
+light, falling on his face, seemed to soften away its
+hard, mocking, self-assertive look, and to deepen
+the tragic lines about the mouth. By some fanciful
+association of ideas her memory went vividly
+back to the stone cross which her father had set
+up in memory of Arthur, and to its inscription:
+
+
+  "All thy waves and billows have gone over me."
+
+
+An hour passed in unbroken silence. At last
+she rose and went softly out of the room. Coming
+back with a lamp, she paused for a moment,
+thinking that the Gadfly was asleep. As the light
+fell on his face he turned round.
+
+"I have made you a cup of coffee," she said,
+setting clown the lamp.
+
+"Put it down a minute. Will you come here,
+please."
+
+He took both her hands in his.
+
+"I have been thinking," he said. "You are
+quite right; it is an ugly tangle I have got my life
+into. But remember, a man does not meet every
+day a woman whom he can--love; and I--I have
+been in deep waters. I am afraid----"
+
+"Afraid----"
+
+"Of the dark. Sometimes I DARE not be alone
+at night. I must have something living--something
+solid beside me. It is the outer darkness,
+where shall be---- No, no! It's not that; that's
+a sixpenny toy hell;--it's the INNER darkness.
+There's no weeping or gnashing of teeth there;
+only silence--silence----"
+
+His eyes dilated. She was quite still, hardly
+breathing till he spoke again.
+
+"This is all mystification to you, isn't it? You
+can't understand--luckily for you. What I mean
+is that I have a pretty fair chance of going mad if
+I try to live quite alone---- Don't think too
+hardly of me, if you can help it; I am not altogether
+the vicious brute you perhaps imagine me to be."
+
+"I cannot try to judge for you," she answered.
+"I have not suffered as you have. But--I have
+been in rather deep water too, in another way; and
+I think--I am sure--that if you let the fear of anything
+drive you to do a really cruel or unjust or
+ungenerous thing, you will regret it afterwards.
+For the rest--if you have failed in this one thing,
+I know that I, in your place, should have failed
+altogether,--should have cursed God and died."
+
+He still kept her hands in his.
+
+"Tell me," he said very softly; "have you ever
+in your life done a really cruel thing?"
+
+She did not answer, but her head sank down,
+and two great tears fell on his hand.
+
+"Tell me!" he whispered passionately, clasping
+her hands tighter. "Tell me! I have told you
+all my misery."
+
+"Yes,--once,--long ago. And I did it to the
+person I loved best in the world."
+
+The hands that clasped hers were trembling violently;
+but they did not loosen their hold.
+
+"He was a comrade," she went on; "and I believed
+a slander against him,--a common glaring
+lie that the police had invented. I struck him in
+the face for a traitor; and he went away and
+drowned himself. Then, two days later, I found
+out that he had been quite innocent. Perhaps
+that is a worse memory than any of yours. I
+would cut off my right hand to undo what it has done."
+
+Something swift and dangerous--something
+that she had not seen before,--flashed into his
+eyes. He bent his head down with a furtive, sudden
+gesture and kissed the hand.
+
+She drew back with a startled face. "Don't!"
+she cried out piteously. "Please don't ever do
+that again! You hurt me!"
+
+"Do you think you didn't hurt the man you
+killed?"
+
+"The man I--killed---- Ah, there is Cesare
+at the gate at last! I--I must go!"
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+When Martini came into the room he found the
+Gadfly lying alone with the untouched coffee beside
+him, swearing softly to himself in a languid,
+spiritless way, as though he got no satisfaction
+out of it.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+A FEW days later, the Gadfly, still rather pale and
+limping more than usual, entered the reading
+room of the public library and asked for Cardinal
+Montanelli's sermons. Riccardo, who was reading
+at a table near him, looked up. He liked the
+Gadfly very much, but could not digest this one
+trait in him--this curious personal maliciousness.
+
+"Are you preparing another volley against that
+unlucky Cardinal?" he asked half irritably.
+
+"My dear fellow, why do you a-a-always attribute
+evil m-m-motives to people? It's m-most
+unchristian. I am preparing an essay on contemporary
+theology for the n-n-new paper."
+
+"What new paper?" Riccardo frowned. It
+was perhaps an open secret that a new press-law
+was expected and that the Opposition was preparing
+to astonish the town with a radical newspaper;
+but still it was, formally, a secret.
+
+"The Swindlers' Gazette, of course, or the
+Church Calendar."
+
+"Sh-sh! Rivarez, we are disturbing the other
+readers."
+
+"Well then, stick to your surgery, if that's
+your subject, and l-l-leave me to th-theology--
+that's mine. I d-d-don't interfere with your
+treatment of broken bones, though I know a
+p-p-precious lot more about them than you do."
+
+He sat down to his volume of sermons with an
+intent and preoccupied face. One of the librarians
+came up to him.
+
+"Signor Rivarez! I think you were in the
+Duprez expedition, exploring the tributaries of the
+Amazon? Perhaps you will kindly help us in a
+difficulty. A lady has been inquiring for the
+records of the expedition, and they are at the
+binder's."
+
+"What does she want to know?"
+
+"Only in what year the expedition started and
+when it passed through Ecuador."
+
+"It started from Paris in the autumn of 1837,
+and passed through Quito in April, 1838. We
+were three years in Brazil; then went down to Rio
+and got back to Paris in the summer of 1841.
+Does the lady want the dates of the separate
+discoveries?"
+
+"No, thank you; only these. I have written
+them down. Beppo, take this paper to Signora
+Bolla, please. Many thanks, Signor Rivarez. I
+am sorry to have troubled you."
+
+The Gadfly leaned back in his chair with a perplexed
+frown. What did she want the dates for?
+When they passed through Ecuador----
+
+Gemma went home with the slip of paper in her
+hand. April, 1838--and Arthur had died in May,
+1833. Five years--
+
+She began pacing up and down her room. She
+had slept badly the last few nights, and there were
+dark shadows under her eyes.
+
+Five years;--and an "overluxurious home"--
+and "someone he had trusted had deceived him"
+--had deceived him--and he had found it out----
+
+She stopped and put up both hands to her head.
+Oh, this was utterly mad--it was not possible--it
+was absurd----
+
+And yet, how they had dragged that harbour!
+
+Five years--and he was "not twenty-one"
+when the Lascar---- Then he must have been
+nineteen when he ran away from home. Had he
+not said: "A year and a half----" Where did he
+get those blue eyes from, and that nervous restlessness
+of the fingers? And why was he so bitter
+against Montanelli? Five years--five years------
+
+If she could but know that he was drowned--if
+she could but have seen the body; some day,
+surely, the old wound would have left off aching,
+the old memory would have lost its terrors. Perhaps
+in another twenty years she would have
+learned to look back without shrinking.
+
+All her youth had been poisoned by the thought
+of what she had done. Resolutely, day after day
+and year after year, she had fought against the
+demon of remorse. Always she had remembered
+that her work lay in the future; always had shut
+her eyes and ears to the haunting spectre of the
+past. And day after day, year after year, the
+image of the drowned body drifting out to sea had
+never left her, and the bitter cry that she could not
+silence had risen in her heart: "I have killed
+Arthur! Arthur is dead!" Sometimes it had
+seemed to her that her burden was too heavy to
+be borne.
+
+Now she would have given half her life to have
+that burden back again. If she had killed him--
+that was a familiar grief; she had endured it too
+long to sink under it now. But if she had driven
+him, not into the water but into------ She sat
+down, covering her eyes with both hands. And
+her life had been darkened for his sake, because he
+was dead! If she had brought upon him nothing
+worse than death----
+
+Steadily, pitilessly she went back, step by step,
+through the hell of his past life. It was as vivid
+to her as though she had seen and felt it all; the
+helpless shivering of the naked soul, the mockery
+that was bitterer than death, the horror of
+loneliness, the slow, grinding, relentless agony. It
+was as vivid as if she had sat beside him in the
+filthy Indian hut; as if she had suffered with him in
+the silver-mines, the coffee fields, the horrible
+variety show--
+
+The variety show---- No, she must shut out
+that image, at least; it was enough to drive one
+mad to sit and think of it.
+
+She opened a little drawer in her writing-desk.
+It contained the few personal relics which she
+could not bring herself to destroy. She was
+not given to the hoarding up of sentimental
+trifles; and the preservation of these keepsakes
+was a concession to that weaker side of her
+nature which she kept under with so steady a
+hand. She very seldom allowed herself to look
+at them.
+
+Now she took them out, one after another:
+Giovanni's first letter to her, and the flowers that
+had lain in his dead hand; a lock of her baby's
+hair and a withered leaf from her father's grave.
+At the back of the drawer was a miniature portrait
+of Arthur at ten years old--the only existing
+likeness of him.
+
+She sat down with it in her hands and looked
+at the beautiful childish head, till the face of the
+real Arthur rose up afresh before her. How clear
+it was in every detail! The sensitive lines of the
+mouth, the wide, earnest eyes, the seraphic purity
+of expression--they were graven in upon her
+memory, as though he had died yesterday.
+Slowly the blinding tears welled up and hid the
+portrait.
+
+Oh, how could she have thought such a thing!
+It was like sacrilege even to dream of this bright,
+far-off spirit, bound to the sordid miseries of life.
+Surely the gods had loved him a little, and had let
+him die young! Better a thousand times that he
+should pass into utter nothingness than that he
+should live and be the Gadfly--the Gadfly, with
+his faultless neckties and his doubtful witticisms,
+his bitter tongue and his ballet girl! No, no! It
+was all a horrible, senseless fancy; and she had
+vexed her heart with vain imaginings. Arthur
+was dead.
+
+"May I come in?" asked a soft voice at the
+door.
+
+She started so that the portrait fell from her
+hand, and the Gadfly, limping across the room,
+picked it up and handed it to her.
+
+"How you startled me!" she said.
+
+"I am s-so sorry. Perhaps I am disturbing
+you?"
+
+"No. I was only turning over some old
+things."
+
+She hesitated for a moment; then handed him
+back the miniature.
+
+"What do you think of that head?"
+
+While he looked at it she watched his face as
+though her life depended upon its expression; but
+it was merely negative and critical.
+
+"You have set me a difficult task," he said.
+"The portrait is faded, and a child's face is always
+hard to read. But I should think that child would
+grow into an unlucky man, and the wisest thing
+he could do would be to abstain from growing into
+a man at all."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Look at the line of the under-lip. Th-th-that
+is the sort of nature that feels pain as pain and
+wrong as wrong; and the world has no r-r-room
+for such people; it needs people who feel nothing
+but their work."
+
+"Is it at all like anyone you know?"
+
+He looked at the portrait more closely.
+
+"Yes. What a curious thing! Of course it
+is; very like."
+
+"Like whom?"
+
+"C-c-cardinal Montan-nelli. I wonder whether
+his irreproachable Eminence has any nephews, by
+the way? Who is it, if I may ask?"
+
+"It is a portrait, taken in childhood, of the
+friend I told you about the other day----"
+
+"Whom you killed?"
+
+She winced in spite of herself. How lightly,
+how cruelly he used that dreadful word!
+
+"Yes, whom I killed--if he is really dead."
+
+"If?"
+
+She kept her eyes on his face.
+
+"I have sometimes doubted," she said. "The
+body was never found. He may have run away
+from home, like you, and gone to South America."
+
+"Let us hope not. That would be a bad memory
+to carry about with you. I have d-d-done
+some hard fighting in my t-time, and have sent
+m-more than one man to Hades, perhaps; but if
+I had it on my conscience that I had sent any l-living
+thing to South America, I should sleep badly----"
+
+"Then do you believe," she interrupted, coming
+nearer to him with clasped hands, "that if he were
+not drowned,--if he had been through your experience
+instead,--he would never come back and
+let the past go? Do you believe he would NEVER
+forget? Remember, it has cost me something,
+too. Look!"
+
+She pushed back the heavy waves of hair from
+her forehead. Through the black locks ran a
+broad white streak.
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+"I think," the Gadfly said slowly, "that the
+dead are better dead. Forgetting some things is
+a difficult matter. And if I were in the place of
+your dead friend, I would s-s-stay dead. The
+REVENANT is an ugly spectre."
+
+She put the portrait back into its drawer and
+locked the desk.
+
+"That is hard doctrine," she said. "And now
+we will talk about something else."
+
+"I came to have a little business talk with you,
+if I may--a private one, about a plan that I have
+in my head."
+
+She drew a chair to the table and sat down.
+"What do you think of the projected press-law?"
+he began, without a trace of his usual stammer.
+
+"What I think of it? I think it will not be of
+much value, but half a loaf is better than no
+bread."
+
+"Undoubtedly. Then do you intend to work
+on one of the new papers these good folk here are
+preparing to start?"
+
+"I thought of doing so. There is always a
+great deal of practical work to be done in starting
+any paper--printing and circulation arrangements
+and----"
+
+"How long are you going to waste your mental
+gifts in that fashion?"
+
+"Why 'waste'?"
+
+"Because it is waste. You know quite well
+that you have a far better head than most of the
+men you are working with, and you let them make
+a regular drudge and Johannes factotum of you.
+Intellectually you are as far ahead of Grassini and
+Galli as if they were schoolboys; yet you sit correcting
+their proofs like a printer's devil."
+
+"In the first place, I don't spend all my time
+in correcting proofs; and moreover it seems to me
+that you exaggerate my mental capacities. They
+are by no means so brilliant as you think."
+
+"I don't think them brilliant at all," he answered
+quietly; "but I do think them sound and
+solid, which is of much more importance. At
+those dreary committee meetings it is always you
+who put your finger on the weak spot in everybody's logic."
+
+"You are not fair to the others. Martini, for
+instance, has a very logical head, and there is no
+doubt about the capacities of Fabrizi and Lega. Then
+Grassini has a sounder knowledge of Italian economic
+statistics than any official in the country, perhaps."
+
+"Well, that's not saying much; but let us lay
+them and their capacities aside. The fact remains
+that you, with such gifts as you possess, might do
+more important work and fill a more responsible
+post than at present."
+
+"I am quite satisfied with my position. The
+work I am doing is not of very much value, perhaps,
+but we all do what we can."
+
+"Signora Bolla, you and I have gone too far to
+play at compliments and modest denials now.
+Tell me honestly, do you recognize that you are
+using up your brain on work which persons inferior
+to you could do as well?"
+
+"Since you press me for an answer--yes, to
+some extent."
+
+"Then why do you let that go on?"
+
+No answer.
+
+"Why do you let it go on?"
+
+"Because--I can't help it."
+
+"Why?"
+
+She looked up reproachfully. "That is unkind
+--it's not fair to press me so."
+
+"But all the same you are going to tell me why."
+
+"If you must have it, then--because my life has
+been smashed into pieces, and I have not the
+energy to start anything REAL, now. I am about
+fit to be a revolutionary cab-horse, and do the
+party's drudge-work. At least I do it conscientiously,
+and it must be done by somebody."
+
+"Certainly it must be done by somebody; but
+not always by the same person."
+
+"It's about all I'm fit for."
+
+He looked at her with half-shut eyes, inscrutably.
+Presently she raised her head.
+
+"We are returning to the old subject; and this
+was to be a business talk. It is quite useless, I
+assure you, to tell me I might have done all sorts
+of things. I shall never do them now. But I may
+be able to help you in thinking out your plan.
+What is it?"
+
+"You begin by telling me that it is useless for
+me to suggest anything, and then ask what I want
+to suggest. My plan requires your help in action,
+not only in thinking out."
+
+"Let me hear it and then we will discuss."
+
+"Tell me first whether you have heard anything
+about schemes for a rising in Venetia."
+
+"I have heard of nothing but schemes for risings
+and Sanfedist plots ever since the amnesty,
+and I fear I am as sceptical about the one as about
+the other."
+
+"So am I, in most cases; but I am speaking of
+really serious preparations for a rising of the whole
+province against the Austrians. A good many
+young fellows in the Papal States--particularly in
+the Four Legations--are secretly preparing to get
+across there and join as volunteers. And I hear
+from my friends in the Romagna----"
+
+"Tell me," she interrupted, "are you quite sure
+that these friends of yours can be trusted?"
+
+"Quite sure. I know them personally, and
+have worked with them."
+
+"That is, they are members of the 'sect' to
+which you belong? Forgive my scepticism, but I
+am always a little doubtful as to the accuracy of
+information received from secret societies. It
+seems to me that the habit----"
+
+"Who told you I belonged to a 'sect'?" he interrupted sharply.
+
+"No one; I guessed it."
+
+"Ah!" He leaned back in his chair and looked
+at her, frowning. "Do you always guess people's
+private affairs?" he said after a moment.
+
+"Very often. I am rather observant, and have
+a habit of putting things together. I tell you that
+so that you may be careful when you don't want
+me to know a thing."
+
+"I don't mind your knowing anything so long as it
+goes no further. I suppose this has not----"
+
+She lifted her head with a gesture of half-offended
+surprise. "Surely that is an unnecessary question!" she said.
+
+"Of course I know you would not speak of anything
+to outsiders; but I thought that perhaps, to
+the members of your party----"
+
+"The party's business is with facts, not with
+my personal conjectures and fancies. Of course
+I have never mentioned the subject to anyone."
+
+"Thank you. Do you happen to have guessed
+which sect I belong to?"
+
+"I hope--you must not take offence at my
+frankness; it was you who started this talk, you
+know---- I do hope it is not the 'Knifers.'"
+
+"Why do you hope that?"
+
+"Because you are fit for better things."
+
+"We are all fit for better things than we ever
+do. There is your own answer back again. However,
+it is not the 'Knifers' that I belong to, but
+the 'Red Girdles.' They are a steadier lot, and
+take their work more seriously."
+
+"Do you mean the work of knifing?"
+
+"That, among other things. Knives are very
+useful in their way; but only when you have a
+good, organized propaganda behind them. That
+is what I dislike in the other sect. They think a
+knife can settle all the world's difficulties; and
+that's a mistake. It can settle a good many, but
+not all."
+
+"Do you honestly believe that it settles any?"
+
+He looked at her in surprise.
+
+"Of course," she went on, "it eliminates, for
+the moment, the practical difficulty caused by the
+presence of a clever spy or objectionable official;
+but whether it does not create worse difficulties in
+place of the one removed is another question. It
+seems to me like the parable of the swept and garnished
+house and the seven devils. Every assassination only
+makes the police more vicious and
+the people more accustomed to violence and brutality,
+and the last state of the community may be
+worse than the first."
+
+"What do you think will happen when the revolution
+comes? Do you suppose the people won't
+have to get accustomed to violence then? War
+is war."
+
+"Yes, but open revolution is another matter.
+It is one moment in the people's life, and it is the
+price we have to pay for all our progress. No
+doubt fearful things will happen; they must in
+every revolution. But they will be isolated
+facts--exceptional features of an exceptional moment.
+The horrible thing about this promiscuous
+knifing is that it becomes a habit. The people get
+to look upon it as an every-day occurrence, and
+their sense of the sacredness of human life gets
+blunted. I have not been much in the Romagna,
+but what little I have seen of the people has given
+me the impression that they have got, or are getting,
+into a mechanical habit of violence."
+
+"Surely even that is better than a mechanical
+habit of obedience and submission."
+
+"I don't think so. All mechanical habits are
+bad and slavish, and this one is ferocious as well.
+Of course, if you look upon the work of the revolutionist
+as the mere wresting of certain definite
+concessions from the government, then the secret
+sect and the knife must seem to you the best weapons,
+for there is nothing else which all governments
+so dread. But if you think, as I do, that to
+force the government's hand is not an end in itself,
+but only a means to an end, and that what we
+really need to reform is the relation between man
+and man, then you must go differently to work.
+Accustoming ignorant people to the sight of blood
+is not the way to raise the value they put on human
+life."
+
+"And the value they put on religion?"
+
+"I don't understand."
+
+He smiled.
+
+"I think we differ as to where the root of the
+mischief lies. You place it in a lack of appreciation
+of the value of human life."
+
+"Rather of the sacredness of human personality."
+
+"Put it as you like. To me the great cause of
+our muddles and mistakes seems to lie in the
+mental disease called religion."
+
+"Do you mean any religion in particular?"
+
+"Oh, no! That is a mere question of external
+symptoms. The disease itself is what is called a
+religious attitude of mind. It is the morbid
+desire to set up a fetich and adore it, to fall down
+and worship something. It makes little difference
+whether the something be Jesus or Buddha or a
+tum-tum tree. You don't agree with me, of
+course. You may be atheist or agnostic or anything
+you like, but I could feel the religious temperament
+in you at five yards. However, it is of
+no use for us to discuss that. But you are quite
+mistaken in thinking that I, for one, look upon the
+knifing as merely a means of removing objectionable
+officials--it is, above all, a means, and I think
+the best means, of undermining the prestige of the
+Church and of accustoming people to look upon
+clerical agents as upon any other vermin."
+
+"And when you have accomplished that; when
+you have roused the wild beast that sleeps in the
+people and set it on the Church; then----"
+
+"Then I shall have done the work that makes it
+worth my while to live."
+
+"Is THAT the work you spoke of the other day?"
+
+"Yes, just that."
+
+She shivered and turned away.
+
+"You are disappointed in me?" he said, looking
+up with a smile.
+
+"No; not exactly that. I am--I think--a little
+afraid of you."
+
+She turned round after a moment and said in
+her ordinary business voice:
+
+"This is an unprofitable discussion. Our standpoints
+are too different. For my part, I believe
+in propaganda, propaganda, and propaganda; and
+when you can get it, open insurrection."
+
+"Then let us come back to the question of my
+plan; it has something to do with propaganda and
+more with insurrection."
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"As I tell you, a good many volunteers are going
+from the Romagna to join the Venetians.
+We do not know yet how soon the insurrection
+will break out. It may not be till the autumn
+or winter; but the volunteers in the Apennines
+must be armed and ready, so that they may be
+able to start for the plains directly they are
+sent for. I have undertaken to smuggle the
+firearms and ammunition on to Papal territory for
+them----"
+
+"Wait a minute. How do you come to be
+working with that set? The revolutionists in
+Lombardy and Venetia are all in favour of the new
+Pope. They are going in for liberal reforms, hand
+in hand with the progressive movement in the
+Church. How can a 'no-compromise' anti-clerical
+like you get on with them?"
+
+He shrugged his shoulders. "What is it to me
+if they like to amuse themselves with a rag-doll,
+so long as they do their work? Of course they
+will take the Pope for a figurehead. What have
+I to do with that, if only the insurrection gets
+under way somehow? Any stick will do to beat
+a dog with, I suppose, and any cry to set the people
+on the Austrians."
+
+"What is it you want me to do?"
+
+"Chiefly to help me get the firearms across."
+
+"But how could I do that?"
+
+"You are just the person who could do it best.
+I think of buying the arms in England, and there
+is a good deal of difficulty about bringing them
+over. It's impossible to get them through any
+of the Pontifical sea-ports; they must come by
+Tuscany, and go across the Apennines."
+
+"That makes two frontiers to cross instead of
+one."
+
+"Yes; but the other way is hopeless; you can't
+smuggle a big transport in at a harbour where there
+is no trade, and you know the whole shipping of
+Civita Vecchia amounts to about three row-boats
+and a fishing smack. If we once get the things
+across Tuscany, I can manage the Papal frontier;
+my men know every path in the mountains, and we
+have plenty of hiding-places. The transport must
+come by sea to Leghorn, and that is my great difficulty;
+I am not in with the smugglers there, and
+I believe you are."
+
+"Give me five minutes to think."
+
+She leaned forward, resting one elbow on her
+knee, and supporting the chin on the raised hand.
+After a few moments' silence she looked up.
+
+"It is possible that I might be of some use in
+that part of the work," she said; "but before we go
+any further, I want to ask you a question. Can
+you give me your word that this business is not
+connected with any stabbing or secret violence of
+any kind?"
+
+"Certainly. It goes without saying that I
+should not have asked you to join in a thing of
+which I know you disapprove."
+
+"When do you want a definite answer from
+me?"
+
+"There is not much time to lose; but I can give
+you a few days to decide in."
+
+"Are you free next Saturday evening?"
+
+"Let me see--to-day is Thursday; yes."
+
+"Then come here. I will think the matter over
+and give you a final answer."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+On the following Sunday Gemma sent in to the
+committee of the Florentine branch of the Mazzinian
+party a statement that she wished to undertake
+a special work of a political nature, which
+would for a few months prevent her from performing
+the functions for which she had up till now
+been responsible to the party.
+
+Some surprise was felt at this announcement,
+but the committee raised no objection; she had
+been known in the party for several years as a person
+whose judgment might be trusted; and the
+members agreed that if Signora Bolla took an unexpected
+step, she probably had good reasons for it.
+
+To Martini she said frankly that she had undertaken
+to help the Gadfly with some "frontier
+work." She had stipulated for the right to tell her
+old friend this much, in order that there might be
+no misunderstanding or painful sense of doubt and
+mystery between them. It seemed to her that she
+owed him this proof of confidence. He made no
+comment when she told him; but she saw, without
+knowing why, that the news had wounded
+him deeply.
+
+They were sitting on the terrace of her lodging,
+looking out over the red roofs to Fiesole. After
+a long silence, Martini rose and began tramping
+up and down with his hands in his pockets, whistling
+to himself--a sure sign with him of mental agitation.
+She sat looking at him for a little while.
+
+"Cesare, you are worried about this affair," she
+said at last. "I am very sorry you feel so despondent
+over it; but I could decide only as seemed
+right to me."
+
+"It is not the affair," he answered, sullenly;
+"I know nothing about it, and it probably is all
+right, once you have consented to go into it. It's
+the MAN I distrust."
+
+"I think you misunderstand him; I did till I
+got to know him better. He is far from perfect,
+but there is much more good in him than you
+think."
+
+"Very likely." For a moment he tramped to
+and fro in silence, then suddenly stopped beside
+her.
+
+"Gemma, give it up! Give it up before it is too
+late! Don't let that man drag you into things
+you will repent afterwards."
+
+"Cesare," she said gently, "you are not thinking
+what you are saying. No one is dragging me
+into anything. I have made this decision of my
+own will, after thinking the matter well over alone.
+You have a personal dislike to Rivarez, I know;
+but we are talking of politics now, not of persons."
+
+"Madonna! Give it up! That man is dangerous;
+he is secret, and cruel, and unscrupulous--
+and he is in love with you!"
+
+She drew back.
+
+"Cesare, how can you get such fancies into your
+head?"
+
+"He is in love with you," Martini repeated.
+"Keep clear of him, Madonna!"
+
+"Dear Cesare, I can't keep clear of him; and I
+can't explain to you why. We are tied together--
+not by any wish or doing of our own."
+
+"If you are tied, there is nothing more to say,"
+Martini answered wearily.
+
+He went away, saying that he was busy, and
+tramped for hours up and down the muddy streets.
+The world looked very black to him that evening.
+One poor ewe-lamb--and this slippery creature
+had stepped in and stolen it away.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+TOWARDS the middle of February the Gadfly
+went to Leghorn. Gemma had introduced him to
+a young Englishman there, a shipping-agent of
+liberal views, whom she and her husband had
+known in England. He had on several occasions
+performed little services for the Florentine radicals:
+had lent money to meet an unforeseen emergency,
+had allowed his business address to be used
+for the party's letters, etc.; but always through
+Gemma's mediumship, and as a private friend of
+hers. She was, therefore, according to party
+etiquette, free to make use of the connexion in
+any way that might seem good to her. Whether
+any use could be got out of it was quite another
+question. To ask a friendly sympathizer to lend
+his address for letters from Sicily or to keep a
+few documents in a corner of his counting-house
+safe was one thing; to ask him to smuggle over a
+transport of firearms for an insurrection was
+another; and she had very little hope of his
+consenting.
+
+"You can but try," she had said to the Gadfly;
+"but I don't think anything will come of it. If
+you were to go to him with that recommendation
+and ask for five hundred scudi, I dare say he'd give
+them to you at once--he's exceedingly generous,
+--and perhaps at a pinch he would lend you
+his passport or hide a fugitive in his cellar; but if
+you mention such a thing as rifles he will stare at
+you and think we're both demented."
+
+"Perhaps he may give me a few hints, though,
+or introduce me to a friendly sailor or two," the
+Gadfly had answered. "Anyway, it's worth while
+to try."
+
+One day at the end of the month he came into
+her study less carefully dressed than usual, and she
+saw at once from his face that he had good news
+to tell.
+
+"Ah, at last! I was beginning to think something
+must have happened to you!"
+
+"I thought it safer not to write, and I couldn't
+get back sooner."
+
+"You have just arrived?"
+
+"Yes; I am straight from the diligence; I
+looked in to tell you that the affair is all settled."
+
+"Do you mean that Bailey has really consented
+to help?"
+
+"More than to help; he has undertaken the
+whole thing,--packing, transports,--everything.
+The rifles will be hidden in bales of merchandise
+and will come straight through from England.
+His partner, Williams, who is a great friend of his,
+has consented to see the transport off from Southampton,
+and Bailey will slip it through the
+custom house at Leghorn. That is why I have
+been such a long time; Williams was just starting
+for Southampton, and I went with him as far as
+Genoa."
+
+"To talk over details on the way?"
+
+"Yes, as long as I wasn't too sea-sick to talk
+about anything."
+
+"Are you a bad sailor?" she asked quickly, remembering
+how Arthur had suffered from sea-sickness one day when her
+father had taken them both for a pleasure-trip.
+
+"About as bad as is possible, in spite of having
+been at sea so much. But we had a talk
+while they were loading at Genoa. You know
+Williams, I think? He's a thoroughly good fellow,
+trustworthy and sensible; so is Bailey, for
+that matter; and they both know how to hold
+their tongues."
+
+"It seems to me, though, that Bailey is running
+a serious risk in doing a thing like this."
+
+"So I told him, and he only looked sulky and
+said: 'What business is that of yours?' Just the
+sort of thing one would expect him to say. If I
+met Bailey in Timbuctoo, I should go up to him
+and say: 'Good-morning, Englishman.'"
+
+"But I can't conceive how you managed to get
+their consent; Williams, too; the last man I
+should have thought of."
+
+"Yes, he objected strongly at first; not on the
+ground of danger, though, but because the thing
+is 'so unbusiness-like.' But I managed to win
+him over after a bit. And now we will go into
+details."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+When the Gadfly reached his lodgings the sun
+had set, and the blossoming pyrus japonica that
+hung over the garden wall looked dark in the fading
+light. He gathered a few sprays and carried
+them into the house. As he opened the study
+door, Zita started up from a chair in the corner and
+ran towards him.
+
+"Oh, Felice; I thought you were never coming!"
+
+His first impulse was to ask her sharply what
+business she had in his study; but, remembering
+that he had not seen her for three weeks, he held
+out his hand and said, rather frigidly:
+
+"Good-evening, Zita; how are you?"
+
+She put up her face to be kissed, but he moved
+past as though he had not seen the gesture, and
+took up a vase to put the pyrus in. The next
+instant the door was flung wide open, and the
+collie, rushing into the room, performed an ecstatic
+dance round him, barking and whining with delight.
+He put down the flowers and stooped to pat the dog.
+
+"Well, Shaitan, how are you, old man? Yes,
+it's really I. Shake hands, like a good dog!"
+
+The hard, sullen look came into Zita's face.
+
+"Shall we go to dinner?" she asked coldly. "I
+ordered it for you at my place, as you wrote that
+you were coming this evening."
+
+He turned round quickly.
+
+"I am v-v-very sorry; you sh-should not have
+waited for me! I will just get a bit tidy and
+come round at once. P-perhaps you would not
+mind putting these into water."
+
+When he came into Zita's dining room she was
+standing before a mirror, fastening one of the
+sprays into her dress. She had apparently made
+up her mind to be good-humoured, and came up to
+him with a little cluster of crimson buds tied
+together.
+
+"Here is a buttonhole for you; let me put it in
+your coat."
+
+All through dinner-time he did his best to be
+amiable, and kept up a flow of small-talk, to which
+she responded with radiant smiles. Her evident
+joy at his return somewhat embarrassed him;
+he had grown so accustomed to the idea that she
+led her own life apart from his, among such friends
+and companions as were congenial to her, that it
+had never occurred to him to imagine her as missing
+him. And yet she must have felt dull to be
+so much excited now.
+
+"Let us have coffee up on the terrace," she said;
+"it is quite warm this evening."
+
+"Very well. Shall I take your guitar? Perhaps
+you will sing."
+
+She flushed with delight; he was critical about
+music and did not often ask her to sing.
+
+On the terrace was a broad wooden bench running
+round the walls. The Gadfly chose a corner
+with a good view of the hills, and Zita, seating herself
+on the low wall with her feet on the bench,
+leaned back against a pillar of the roof. She did
+not care much for scenery; she preferred to look at
+the Gadfly.
+
+"Give me a cigarette," she said. "I don't believe
+I have smoked once since you went away."
+
+"Happy thought! It's just s-s-smoke I want
+to complete my bliss."
+
+She leaned forward and looked at him earnestly.
+
+"Are you really happy?"
+
+The Gadfly's mobile brows went up.
+
+"Yes; why not? I have had a good dinner; I
+am looking at one of the m-most beautiful views
+in Europe; and now I'm going to have coffee and
+hear a Hungarian folk-song. There is nothing the
+matter with either my conscience or my digestion;
+what more can man desire?"
+
+"I know another thing you desire."
+
+"What?"
+
+"That!" She tossed a little cardboard box
+into his hand.
+
+"B-burnt almonds! Why d-didn't you tell me
+before I began to s-smoke?" he cried reproachfully.
+
+"Why, you baby! you can eat them when you
+have done smoking. There comes the coffee."
+
+The Gadfly sipped his coffee and ate his burnt
+almonds with the grave and concentrated enjoyment
+of a cat drinking cream.
+
+"How nice it is to come back to d-decent coffee,
+after the s-s-stuff one gets at Leghorn!" he said
+in his purring drawl.
+
+"A very good reason for stopping at home now
+you are here."
+
+"Not much stopping for me; I'm off again
+to-morrow."
+
+The smile died on her face.
+
+"To-morrow! What for? Where are you going to?"
+
+"Oh! two or three p-p-places, on business."
+
+It had been decided between him and Gemma
+that he must go in person into the Apennines to
+make arrangements with the smugglers of the
+frontier region about the transporting of the firearms.
+To cross the Papal frontier was for him a
+matter of serious danger; but it had to be done if
+the work was to succeed.
+
+"Always business!" Zita sighed under her
+breath; and then asked aloud:
+
+"Shall you be gone long?"
+
+"No; only a fortnight or three weeks, p-p-probably."
+
+"I suppose it's some of THAT business?" she
+asked abruptly.
+
+"'That' business?"
+
+"The business you're always trying to get your
+neck broken over--the everlasting politics."
+
+"It has something to do with p-p-politics."
+
+Zita threw away her cigarette.
+
+"You are fooling me," she said. "You are
+going into some danger or other."
+
+"I'm going s-s-straight into the inf-fernal regions,"
+he answered languidly. "D-do you happen to have any friends
+there you want to send that ivy to? You n-needn't pull it
+all down, though."
+
+She had fiercely torn off a handful of the climber
+from the pillar, and now flung it down with vehement anger.
+
+"You are going into danger," she repeated;
+"and you won't even say so honestly! Do you
+think I am fit for nothing but to be fooled and
+joked with? You will get yourself hanged one of
+these days, and never so much as say good-bye.
+It's always politics and politics--I'm sick of
+politics!"
+
+"S-so am I," said the Gadfly, yawning lazily;
+"and therefore we'll talk about something else--
+unless you will sing."
+
+"Well, give me the guitar, then. What shall I sing?"
+
+"The ballad of the lost horse; it suits your voice
+so well."
+
+She began to sing the old Hungarian ballad of
+the man who loses first his horse, then his home,
+and then his sweetheart, and consoles himself with
+the reflection that "more was lost at Mohacz
+field." The song was one of the Gadfly's especial
+favourites; its fierce and tragic melody and the
+bitter stoicism of the refrain appealed to him as
+no softer music ever did.
+
+Zita was in excellent voice; the notes came
+from her lips strong and clear, full of the vehement
+desire of life. She would have sung Italian or
+Slavonic music badly, and German still worse; but
+she sang the Magyar folk-songs splendidly.
+
+The Gadfly listened with wide-open eyes and
+parted lips; he had never heard her sing like this
+before. As she came to the last line, her voice
+began suddenly to shake.
+
+
+     "Ah, no matter! More was lost----"
+
+
+She broke down with a sob and hid her face
+among the ivy leaves.
+
+"Zita!" The Gadfly rose and took the guitar
+from her hand. "What is it?"
+
+She only sobbed convulsively, hiding her face in
+both hands. He touched her on the arm.
+
+"Tell me what is the matter," he said caressingly.
+
+"Let me alone!" she sobbed, shrinking away.
+"Let me alone!"
+
+He went quietly back to his seat and waited till the
+sobs died away. Suddenly he felt her arms about his neck;
+she was kneeling on the floor beside him.
+
+"Felice--don't go! Don't go away!"
+
+"We will talk about that afterwards," he said,
+gently extricating himself from the clinging arms.
+"Tell me first what has upset you so. Has anything
+been frightening you?"
+
+She silently shook her head.
+
+"Have I done anything to hurt you?"
+
+"No." She put a hand up against his throat.
+
+"What, then?"
+
+"You will get killed," she whispered at last.
+"I heard one of those men that come here say the
+other day that you will get into trouble--and
+when I ask you about it you laugh at me!"
+
+"My dear child," the Gadfly said, after a little
+pause of astonishment, "you have got some exaggerated
+notion into your head. Very likely I shall
+get killed some day--that is the natural consequence
+of being a revolutionist. But there is no
+reason to suppose I am g-g-going to get killed
+just now. I am running no more risk than other
+people."
+
+"Other people--what are other people to me?
+If you loved me you wouldn't go off this way and
+leave me to lie awake at night, wondering whether
+you're arrested, or dream you are dead whenever
+I go to sleep. You don't care as much for me as
+for that dog there!"
+
+The Gadfly rose and walked slowly to the other
+end of the terrace. He was quite unprepared for
+such a scene as this and at a loss how to answer
+her. Yes, Gemma was right; he had got his life into
+a tangle that he would have hard work to undo.
+
+"Sit down and let us talk about it quietly," he
+said, coming back after a moment. "I think we
+have misunderstood each other; of course I should
+not have laughed if I had thought you were serious.
+Try to tell me plainly what is troubling you;
+and then, if there is any misunderstanding, we
+may be able to clear it up."
+
+"There's nothing to clear up. I can see you
+don't care a brass farthing for me."
+
+"My dear child, we had better be quite frank
+with each other. I have always tried to be honest
+about our relationship, and I think I have never
+deceived you as to----"
+
+"Oh, no! you have been honest enough; you
+have never even pretended to think of me as anything
+else but a prostitute,--a trumpery bit of
+second-hand finery that plenty of other men have
+had before you--"
+
+"Hush, Zita! I have never thought that way
+about any living thing."
+
+"You have never loved me," she insisted sullenly.
+
+"No, I have never loved you. Listen to me,
+and try to think as little harm of me as you can."
+
+"Who said I thought any harm of you? I----"
+
+"Wait a minute. This is what I want to say:
+I have no belief whatever in conventional moral
+codes, and no respect for them. To me the relations
+between men and women are simply questions of
+personal likes and dislikes------"
+
+"And of money," she interrupted with a harsh
+little laugh. He winced and hesitated a moment.
+
+"That, of course, is the ugly part of the matter.
+But believe me, if I had thought that you disliked
+me, or felt any repulsion to the thing, I would
+never have suggested it, or taken advantage of
+your position to persuade you to it. I have never
+done that to any woman in my life, and I have
+never told a woman a lie about my feeling for her.
+You may trust me that I am speaking the truth----"
+
+He paused a moment, but she did not answer.
+
+"I thought," he went on; "that if a man is
+alone in the world and feels the need of--of a
+woman's presence about him, and if he can find
+a woman who is attractive to him and to whom he
+is not repulsive, he has a right to accept, in a grateful
+and friendly spirit, such pleasure as that woman
+is willing to give him, without entering into any
+closer bond. I saw no harm in the thing, provided
+only there is no unfairness or insult or deceit
+on either side. As for your having been in that
+relation with other men before I met you, I did
+not think about that. I merely thought that the
+connexion would be a pleasant and harmless one
+for both of us, and that either was free to break
+it as soon as it became irksome. If I was mistaken
+--if you have grown to look upon it differently--
+then----"
+
+He paused again.
+
+"Then?" she whispered, without looking up.
+
+"Then I have done you a wrong, and I am very
+sorry. But I did not mean to do it."
+
+"You 'did not mean' and you 'thought'----
+Felice, are you made of cast iron? Have you never
+been in love with a woman in your life that you
+can't see I love you?"
+
+A sudden thrill went through him; it was so
+long since anyone had said to him: "I love you."
+Instantly she started up and flung her arms round
+him.
+
+"Felice, come away with me! Come away from
+this dreadful country and all these people and their
+politics! What have we got to do with them?
+Come away, and we will be happy together. Let
+us go to South America, where you used to live."
+
+The physical horror of association startled
+him back into self-control; he unclasped her hands
+from his neck and held them in a steady grasp.
+
+"Zita! Try to understand what I am saying
+to you. I do not love you; and if I did I would
+not come away with you. I have my work in
+Italy, and my comrades----"
+
+"And someone else that you love better than
+me!" she cried out fiercely. "Oh, I could kill
+you! It is not your comrades you care about;
+
+it's---- I know who it is!"
+
+"Hush!" he said quietly. "You are excited
+and imagining things that are not true."
+
+"You suppose I am thinking of Signora Bolla?
+I'm not so easily duped! You only talk politics
+with her; you care no more for her than you do for
+me. It's that Cardinal!"
+
+The Gadfly started as if he had been shot.
+
+"Cardinal?" he repeated mechanically.
+
+"Cardinal Montanelli, that came here preaching
+in the autumn. Do you think I didn't see your
+face when his carriage passed? You were as white
+as my pocket-handkerchief! Why, you're shaking
+like a leaf now because I mentioned his name!"
+
+He stood up.
+
+"You don't know what you are talking about,"
+he said very slowly and softly. "I--hate the
+Cardinal. He is the worst enemy I have."
+
+"Enemy or no, you love him better than you
+love anyone else in the world. Look me in the
+face and say that is not true, if you can!"
+
+He turned away, and looked out into the garden.
+She watched him furtively, half-scared at
+what she had done; there was something terrifying
+in his silence. At last she stole up to him,
+like a frightened child, and timidly pulled his
+sleeve. He turned round.
+
+"It is true," he said.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+"BUT c-c-can't I meet him somewhere in the
+hills? Brisighella is a risky place for me."
+
+"Every inch of ground in the Romagna is
+risky for you; but just at this moment Brisighella
+is safer for you than any other place."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I'll tell you in a minute. Don't let that man
+with the blue jacket see your face; he's dangerous.
+Yes; it was a terrible storm; I don't remember to
+have seen the vines so bad for a long time."
+
+The Gadfly spread his arms on the table, and
+laid his face upon them, like a man overcome with
+fatigue or wine; and the dangerous new-comer in
+the blue jacket, glancing swiftly round, saw only
+two farmers discussing their crops over a flask of
+wine and a sleepy mountaineer with his head on
+the table. It was the usual sort of thing to see in
+little places like Marradi; and the owner of the
+blue jacket apparently made up his mind that
+nothing could be gained by listening; for he drank
+his wine at a gulp and sauntered into the outer
+room. There he stood leaning on the counter and
+gossiping lazily with the landlord, glancing every
+now and then out of the corner of one eye through
+the open door, beyond which sat the three figures
+at the table. The two farmers went on sipping
+their wine and discussing the weather in the local
+dialect, and the Gadfly snored like a man whose
+conscience is sound.
+
+At last the spy seemed to make up his mind that
+there was nothing in the wine-shop worth further
+waste of his time. He paid his reckoning, and,
+lounging out of the house, sauntered away down
+the narrow street. The Gadfly, yawning and
+stretching, lifted himself up and sleepily rubbed
+the sleeve of his linen blouse across his eyes.
+
+"Pretty sharp practice that," he said, pulling
+a clasp-knife out of his pocket and cutting off a
+chunk from the rye-loaf on the table. "Have
+they been worrying you much lately, Michele?"
+
+"They've been worse than mosquitos in August.
+There's no getting a minute's peace; wherever
+one goes, there's always a spy hanging about.
+Even right up in the hills, where they used to be
+so shy about venturing, they have taken to coming
+in bands of three or four--haven't they, Gino?
+That's why we arranged for you to meet Domenichino
+in the town."
+
+"Yes; but why Brisighella? A frontier town
+is always full of spies."
+
+"Brisighella just now is a capital place. It's
+swarming with pilgrims from all parts of the country."
+
+"But it's not on the way to anywhere."
+
+"It's not far out of the way to Rome, and many
+of the Easter Pilgrims are going round to hear
+Mass there."
+
+"I d-d-didn't know there was anything special
+in Brisighella."
+
+"There's the Cardinal. Don't you remember
+his going to Florence to preach last December?
+It's that same Cardinal Montanelli. They say he
+made a great sensation."
+
+"I dare say; I don't go to hear sermons."
+
+"Well, he has the reputation of being a saint,
+you see."
+
+"How does he manage that?"
+
+"I don't know. I suppose it's because he gives
+away all his income, and lives like a parish priest
+with four or five hundred scudi a year."
+
+"Ah!" interposed the man called Gino; "but
+it's more than that. He doesn't only give away
+money; he spends his whole life in looking after
+the poor, and seeing the sick are properly treated,
+and hearing complaints and grievances from morning
+till night. I'm no fonder of priests than you
+are, Michele, but Monsignor Montanelli is not like
+other Cardinals."
+
+"Oh, I dare say he's more fool than knave!"
+said Michele. "Anyhow, the people are mad after
+him, and the last new freak is for the pilgrims to
+go round that way to ask his blessing. Domenichino
+thought of going as a pedlar, with a basket
+of cheap crosses and rosaries. The people like to
+buy those things and ask the Cardinal to touch
+them; then they put them round their babies'
+necks to keep off the evil eye."
+
+"Wait a minute. How am I to go--as a pilgrim?
+This make-up suits me p-pretty well, I think; but
+it w-won't do for me to show myself in Brisighella
+in the same character that I had here; it would be
+ev-v-vidence against you if I get taken."
+
+"You won't get taken; we have a splendid
+disguise for you, with a passport and all complete."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"An old Spanish pilgrim--a repentant brigand
+from the Sierras. He fell ill in Ancona last year,
+and one of our friends took him on board a trading-vessel
+out of charity, and set him down in Venice, where he had
+friends, and he left his papers with us to show his
+gratitude. They will just do for you."
+
+"A repentant b-b-brigand? But w-what about
+the police?"
+
+"Oh, that's all right! He finished his term of
+the galleys some years ago, and has been going
+about to Jerusalem and all sorts of places saving
+his soul ever since. He killed his son by mistake
+for somebody else, and gave himself up to the
+police in a fit of remorse."
+
+"Was he quite old?"
+
+"Yes; but a white beard and wig will set that
+right, and the description suits you to perfection
+in every other respect. He was an old soldier,
+with a lame foot and a sabre-cut across the face
+like yours; and then his being a Spaniard, too--
+you see, if you meet any Spanish pilgrims, you can
+talk to them all right."
+
+"Where am I to meet Domenichino?"
+
+"You join the pilgrims at the cross-road that
+we will show you on the map, saying you had lost
+your way in the hills. Then, when you reach the
+town, you go with the rest of them into the marketplace,
+in front of the Cardinal's palace."
+
+"Oh, he manages to live in a p-palace, then,
+in s-spite of being a saint?"
+
+"He lives in one wing of it, and has turned the
+rest into a hospital. Well, you all wait there for
+him to come out and give his benediction, and
+Domenichino will come up with his basket and
+say: "Are you one of the pilgrims, father?" and
+you answer: 'I am a miserable sinner.' Then he
+puts down his basket and wipes his face with his
+sleeve, and you offer him six soldi for a rosary."
+
+"Then, of course, he arranges where we can talk?"
+
+"Yes; he will have plenty of time to give you
+the address of the meeting-place while the people
+are gaping at Montanelli. That was our plan; but
+if you don't like it, we can let Domenichino know
+and arrange something else."
+
+"No; it will do; only see that the beard and
+wig look natural."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+"Are you one of the pilgrims, father?"
+
+The Gadfly, sitting on the steps of the episcopal
+palace, looked up from under his ragged white
+locks, and gave the password in a husky, trembling
+voice, with a strong foreign accent. Domenichino
+slipped the leather strap from his shoulder,
+and set down his basket of pious gewgaws on the
+step. The crowd of peasants and pilgrims sitting
+on the steps and lounging about the market-place
+was taking no notice of them, but for precaution's
+sake they kept up a desultory conversation, Domenichino
+speaking in the local dialect and the Gadfly in
+broken Italian, intermixed with Spanish words.
+
+"His Eminence! His Eminence is coming
+out!" shouted the people by the door. "Stand
+aside! His Eminence is coming!"
+
+They both stood up.
+
+"Here, father," said Domenichino, putting into
+the Gadfly's hand a little image wrapped in paper;
+"take this, too, and pray for me when you get to
+Rome."
+
+The Gadfly thrust it into his breast, and turned
+to look at the figure in the violet Lenten robe and
+scarlet cap that was standing on the upper step
+and blessing the people with outstretched arms.
+
+Montanelli came slowly down the steps, the
+people crowding about him to kiss his hands.
+Many knelt down and put the hem of his cassock
+to their lips as he passed.
+
+"Peace be with you, my children!"
+
+At the sound of the clear, silvery voice, the
+Gadfly bent his head, so that the white hair fell
+across his face; and Domenichino, seeing the
+quivering of the pilgrim's staff in his hand, said to
+himself with admiration: "What an actor!"
+
+A woman standing near to them stooped down
+and lifted her child from the step. "Come,
+Cecco," she said. "His Eminence will bless you
+as the dear Lord blessed the children."
+
+The Gadfly moved a step forward and stopped.
+Oh, it was hard! All these outsiders--these pilgrims
+and mountaineers--could go up and speak
+to him, and he would lay his hand on their children's
+hair. Perhaps he would say "Carino" to
+that peasant boy, as he used to say----
+
+The Gadfly sank down again on the step, turning
+away that he might not see. If only he could
+shrink into some corner and stop his ears to shut
+out the sound! Indeed, it was more than any man
+should have to bear--to be so close, so close that
+he could have put out his arm and touched the
+dear hand.
+
+"Will you not come under shelter, my friend?"
+the soft voice said. "I am afraid you are chilled."
+
+The Gadfly's heart stood still. For a moment
+he was conscious of nothing but the sickening
+pressure of the blood that seemed as if it would
+tear his breast asunder; then it rushed back, tingling
+and burning through all his body, and he
+looked up. The grave, deep eyes above him grew
+suddenly tender with divine compassion at the
+sight of his face.
+
+"Stand bark a little, friends," Montanelli said,
+turning to the crowd; "I want to speak to him."
+
+The people fell slowly back, whispering to each
+other, and the Gadfly, sitting motionless, with
+teeth clenched and eyes on the ground, felt the
+gentle touch of Montanelli's hand upon his
+shoulder.
+
+"You have had some great trouble. Can I do
+anything to help you?"
+
+The Gadfly shook his head in silence.
+
+"Are you a pilgrim?"
+
+"I am a miserable sinner."
+
+The accidental similarity of Montanelli's question
+to the password came like a chance straw,
+that the Gadfly, in his desperation, caught at, answering
+automatically. He had begun to tremble
+under the soft pressure of the hand that seemed
+to burn upon his shoulder.
+
+The Cardinal bent down closer to him.
+
+"Perhaps you would care to speak to me alone?
+If I can be any help to you----"
+
+For the first time the Gadfly looked straight
+and steadily into Montanelli's eyes; he was already
+recovering his self-command.
+
+"It would be no use," he said; "the thing is
+hopeless."
+
+A police official stepped forward out of the
+crowd.
+
+"Forgive my intruding, Your Eminence. I
+think the old man is not quite sound in his mind.
+He is perfectly harmless, and his papers are in
+order, so we don't interfere with him. He has
+been in penal servitude for a great crime, and is
+now doing penance."
+
+"A great crime," the Gadfly repeated, shaking
+his head slowly.
+
+"Thank you, captain; stand aside a little,
+please. My friend, nothing is hopeless if a man
+has sincerely repented. Will you not come to me
+this evening?"
+
+"Would Your Eminence receive a man who is
+guilty of the death of his own son?"
+
+The question had almost the tone of a challenge,
+and Montanelli shrank and shivered under it as
+under a cold wind.
+
+"God forbid that I should condemn you, whatever
+you have done!" he said solemnly. "In His
+sight we are all guilty alike, and our righteousness
+is as filthy rags. If you will come to me I will
+receive you as I pray that He may one day receive me."
+
+The Gadfly stretched out his hands with a sudden
+gesture of passion.
+
+"Listen!" he said; "and listen all of you,
+Christians! If a man has killed his only son--his
+son who loved and trusted him, who was flesh of
+his flesh and bone of his bone; if he has led his son
+into a death-trap with lies and deceit--is there
+hope for that man in earth or heaven? I have
+confessed my sin before God and man, and I have
+suffered the punishment that men have laid on
+me, and they have let me go; but when will God
+say, 'It is enough'? What benediction will take
+away His curse from my soul? What absolution
+will undo this thing that I have done?"
+
+In the dead silence that followed the people
+looked at Montanelli, and saw the heaving of the
+cross upon his breast.
+
+He raised his eyes at last, and gave the benediction
+with a hand that was not quite steady.
+
+"God is merciful," he said. "Lay your burden
+before His throne; for it is written: 'A
+broken and contrite heart shalt thou not despise.'"
+
+He turned away and walked through the market-place,
+stopping everywhere to speak to the
+people, and to take their children in his arms.
+
+In the evening the Gadfly, following the directions
+written on the wrapping of the image, made
+his way to the appointed meeting-place. It was
+the house of a local doctor, who was an active
+member of the "sect." Most of the conspirators
+were already assembled, and their delight at the
+Gadfly's arrival gave him a new proof, if he had
+needed one, of his popularity as a leader.
+
+"We're glad enough to see you again," said the
+doctor; "but we shall be gladder still to see you
+go. It's a fearfully risky business, and I, for one,
+was against the plan. Are you quite sure none of
+those police rats noticed you in the market-place
+this morning?"
+
+"Oh, they n-noticed me enough, but they
+d-didn't recognize me. Domenichino m-managed
+the thing capitally. But where is he? I don't see
+him."
+
+"He has not come yet. So you got on all
+smoothly? Did the Cardinal give you his blessing?"
+
+"His blessing? Oh, that's nothing," said Domenichino,
+coming in at the door. "Rivarez,
+you're as full of surprises as a Christmas cake.
+How many more talents are you going to astonish
+us with?"
+
+"What is it now?" asked the Gadfly languidly.
+He was leaning back on a sofa, smoking a cigar.
+He still wore his pilgrim's dress, but the white
+beard and wig lay beside him.
+
+"I had no idea you were such an actor. I never
+saw a thing done so magnificently in my life. You
+nearly moved His Eminence to tears."
+
+"How was that? Let us hear, Rivarez."
+
+The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. He was in
+a taciturn and laconic mood, and the others, seeing
+that nothing was to be got out of him,
+appealed to Domenichino to explain. When the
+scene in the market-place had been related, one
+young workman, who had not joined in the laughter
+of the rest, remarked abruptly:
+
+"It was very clever, of course; but I don't see
+what good all this play-acting business has done
+to anybody."
+
+"Just this much," the Gadfly put in; "that I
+can go where I like and do what I like anywhere
+in this district, and not a single man, woman, or
+child will ever think of suspecting me. The story
+will be all over the place by to-morrow, and when
+I meet a spy he will only think: 'It's mad Diego,
+that confessed his sins in the market-place.' That
+is an advantage gained, surely."
+
+"Yes, I see. Still, I wish the thing could have
+been done without fooling the Cardinal. He's
+too good to have that sort of trick played on
+him."
+
+"I thought myself he seemed fairly decent,"
+the Gadfly lazily assented.
+
+"Nonsense, Sandro! We don't want Cardinals
+here!" said Domenichino. "And if Monsignor
+Montanelli had taken that post in Rome when he
+had the chance of getting it, Rivarez couldn't have
+fooled him."
+
+"He wouldn't take it because he didn't want to
+leave his work here."
+
+"More likely because he didn't want to get
+poisoned off by Lambruschini's agents. They've
+got something against him, you may depend upon
+it. When a Cardinal, especially such a popular
+one, 'prefers to stay' in a God-forsaken little hole
+like this, we all know what that means--don't we,
+Rivarez?"
+
+The Gadfly was making smoke-rings. "Perhaps
+it is a c-c-case of a 'b-b-broken and contrite
+heart,'" he remarked, leaning his head back to
+watch them float away. "And now, men, let us
+get to business."
+
+They began to discuss in detail the various plans
+which had been formed for the smuggling and concealment
+of weapons. The Gadfly listened with
+keen attention, interrupting every now and then
+to correct sharply some inaccurate statement or
+imprudent proposal. When everyone had finished
+speaking, he made a few practical suggestions,
+most of which were adopted without discussion.
+The meeting then broke up. It had been resolved
+that, at least until he was safely back in Tuscany,
+very late meetings, which might attract the notice
+of the police, should be avoided. By a little after
+ten o'clock all had dispersed except the doctor, the
+Gadfly, and Domenichino, who remained as
+a sub-committee for the discussion of special
+points. After a long and hot dispute, Domenichino
+looked up at the clock.
+
+"Half-past eleven; we mustn't stop any longer
+or the night-watchman may see us."
+
+"When does he pass?" asked the Gadfly.
+
+"About twelve o'clock; and I want to be home
+before he comes. Good-night, Giordani. Rivarez,
+shall we walk together?"
+
+"No; I think we are safer apart. Then I shall
+see you again?"
+
+"Yes; at Castel Bolognese. I don't know yet
+what disguise I shall be in, but you have the passWord.
+You leave here to-morrow, I think?"
+
+The Gadfly was carefully putting on his beard
+and wig before the looking-glass.
+
+"To-morrow morning, with the pilgrims. On
+the next day I fall ill and stop behind in a shepherd's
+hut, and then take a short cut across the hills. I shall
+be down there before you will. Good-night!"
+
+Twelve o'clock was striking from the Cathedral
+bell-tower as the Gadfly looked in at the door of
+the great empty barn which had been thrown open
+as a lodging for the pilgrims. The floor was
+covered with clumsy figures, most of which were
+snoring lustily, and the air was insufferably close
+and foul. He drew back with a little shudder of
+repugnance; it would be useless to attempt to
+sleep in there; he would take a walk, and then
+find some shed or haystack which would, at least,
+be clean and quiet.
+
+It was a glorious night, with a great full moon
+gleaming in a purple sky. He began to wander
+through the streets in an aimless way, brooding
+miserably over the scene of the morning, and wishing
+that he had never consented to Domenichino's
+plan of holding the meeting in Brisighella. If at
+the beginning he had declared the project too dangerous,
+some other place would have been chosen;
+and both he and Montanelli would have been
+spared this ghastly, ridiculous farce.
+
+How changed the Padre was! And yet his voice was
+not changed at all; it was just the same as in the
+old days, when he used to say: "Carino."
+
+The lantern of the night-watchman appeared at
+the other end of the street, and the Gadfly turned
+down a narrow, crooked alley. After walking a
+few yards he found himself in the Cathedral
+Square, close to the left wing of the episcopal
+palace. The square was flooded with moonlight,
+and there was no one in sight; but he noticed that
+a side door of the Cathedral was ajar. The sacristan
+must have forgotten to shut it. Surely nothing
+could be going on there so late at night. He
+might as well go in and sleep on one of the benches
+instead of in the stifling barn; he could slip out in
+the morning before the sacristan came; and even
+if anyone did find him, the natural supposition
+would be that mad Diego had been saying his
+prayers in some corner, and had got shut in.
+
+He listened a moment at the door, and then
+entered with the noiseless step that he had retained
+notwithstanding his lameness. The moonlight
+streamed through the windows, and lay in broad
+bands on the marble floor. In the chancel, especially,
+everything was as clearly visible as by daylight. At
+the foot of the altar steps Cardinal Montanelli knelt
+alone, bare-headed, with clasped hands.
+
+The Gadfly drew back into the shadow. Should
+he slip away before Montanelli saw him? That,
+no doubt, would be the wisest thing to do--perhaps
+the most merciful. And yet, what harm
+could it do for him to go just a little nearer--to
+look at the Padre's face once more, now that the
+crowd was gone, and there was no need to keep
+up the hideous comedy of the morning? Perhaps
+it would be his last chance--and the Padre need
+not see him; he would steal up softly and look--
+just this once. Then he would go back to his work.
+
+Keeping in the shadow of the pillars, he crept
+softly up to the chancel rails, and paused at the
+side entrance, close to the altar. The shadow of
+the episcopal throne was broad enough to cover
+him, and he crouched down in the darkness, holding
+his breath.
+
+"My poor boy! Oh, God; my poor boy!"
+
+The broken whisper was full of such endless
+despair that the Gadfly shuddered in spite of himself.
+Then came deep, heavy, tearless sobs; and
+he saw Montanelli wring his hands together like
+a man in bodily pain.
+
+He had not thought it would be so bad as
+this. How often had he said to himself with bitter
+assurance: "I need not trouble about it; that
+wound was healed long ago." Now, after all these
+years, it was laid bare before him, and he saw it
+bleeding still. And how easy it would be to heal
+it now at last! He need only lift his hand--only
+step forward and say: "Padre, it is I." There
+was Gemma, too, with that white streak across her
+hair. Oh, if he could but forgive! If he could
+but cut out from his memory the past that
+was burned into it so deep--the Lascar, and the
+sugar-plantation, and the variety show! Surely
+there was no other misery like this--to be willing
+to forgive, to long to forgive; and to know that
+it was hopeless--that he could not, dared not forgive.
+
+Montanelli rose at last, made the sign of the
+cross, and turned away from the altar. The Gadfly
+shrank further back into the shadow, trembling
+with fear lest he should be seen, lest the very
+beating of his heart should betray him; then he
+drew a long breath of relief. Montanelli had
+passed him, so close that the violet robe had
+brushed against his cheek,--had passed and had
+not seen him.
+
+Had not seen him---- Oh, what had he done?
+This had been his last chance--this one precious
+moment--and he had let it slip away. He started
+up and stepped into the light.
+
+"Padre!"
+
+The sound of his own voice, ringing up and
+dying away along the arches of the roof, filled him
+with fantastic terror. He shrank back again into
+the shadow. Montanelli stood beside the pillar,
+motionless, listening with wide-open eyes, full
+of the horror of death. How long the silence
+lasted the Gadfly could not tell; it might have
+been an instant, or an eternity. He came to his
+senses with a sudden shock. Montanelli was beginning
+to sway as though he would fall, and his
+lips moved, at first silently.
+
+"Arthur!" the low whisper came at last; "yes,
+the water is deep----"
+
+The Gadfly came forward.
+
+"Forgive me, Your Eminence! I thought it
+was one of the priests."
+
+"Ah, it is the pilgrim?" Montanelli had at
+once recovered his self-control, though the Gadfly
+could see, from the restless glitter of the sapphire
+on his hand, that he was still trembling. "Are
+you in need of anything, my friend? It is late, and
+the Cathedral is closed at night."
+
+"I beg pardon, Your Eminence, if I have done
+wrong. I saw the door open, and came in to pray,
+and when I saw a priest, as I thought, in meditation,
+I waited to ask a blessing on this."
+
+He held up the little tin cross that he had
+bought from Domenichino. Montanelli took it
+from his hand, and, re-entering the chancel, laid it
+for a moment on the altar.
+
+"Take it, my son," he said, "and be at rest,
+for the Lord is tender and pitiful. Go to Rome,
+and ask the blessing of His minister, the Holy
+Father. Peace be with you!"
+
+The Gadfly bent his head to receive the benediction,
+and turned slowly away.
+
+"Stop!" said Montanelli.
+
+He was standing with one hand on the chancel rail.
+
+"When you receive the Holy Eucharist in
+Rome," he said, "pray for one in deep affliction--
+for one on whose soul the hand of the Lord is heavy."
+
+There were almost tears in his voice, and the
+Gadfly's resolution wavered. Another instant and
+he would have betrayed himself. Then the
+thought of the variety-show came up again, and
+he remembered, like Jonah, that he did well to
+be angry.
+
+"Who am I, that He should hear my prayers?
+A leper and an outcast! If I could bring to His
+throne, as Your Eminence can, the offering of a
+holy life--of a soul without spot or secret
+shame------"
+
+Montanelli turned abruptly away.
+
+"I have only one offering to give," he said; "a
+broken heart."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+A few days later the Gadfly returned to Florence
+in the diligence from Pistoja. He went
+straight to Gemma's lodgings, but she was out.
+Leaving a message that he would return in the
+morning he went home, sincerely hoping that he
+should not again find his study invaded by Zita.
+Her jealous reproaches would act on his nerves,
+if he were to hear much of them to-night, like the
+rasping of a dentist's file.
+
+"Good-evening, Bianca," he said when the
+maid-servant opened the door. "Has Mme. Reni
+been here to-day?"
+
+She stared at him blankly
+
+"Mme. Reni? Has she come back, then, sir?"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked with a frown,
+stopping short on the mat.
+
+"She went away quite suddenly, just after you
+did, and left all her things behind her. She never
+so much as said she was going."
+
+"Just after I did? What, a f-fortnight ago?"
+
+"Yes, sir, the same day; and her things are
+lying about higgledy-piggledy. All the neighbours
+are talking about it."
+
+He turned away from the door-step without
+speaking, and went hastily down the lane to the
+house where Zita had been lodging. In her rooms
+nothing had been touched; all the presents that
+he had given her were in their usual places; there
+was no letter or scrap of writing anywhere.
+
+"If you please, sir," said Bianca, putting her
+head in at the door, "there's an old woman----"
+
+He turned round fiercely.
+
+"What do you want here--following me
+about?"
+
+"An old woman wishes to see you."
+
+"What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see
+her; I'm busy."
+
+"She has been coming nearly every evening
+since you went away, sir, always asking when you
+would come back."
+
+"Ask her w-what her business is. No; never
+mind; I suppose I must go myself."
+
+The old woman was waiting at his hall door.
+She was very poorly dressed, with a face as brown
+and wrinkled as a medlar, and a bright-coloured
+scarf twisted round her head. As he came in
+she rose and looked at him with keen black
+eyes.
+
+"You are the lame gentleman," she said, inspecting
+him critically from head to foot. "I have
+brought you a message from Zita Reni."
+
+He opened the study door, and held it for her
+to pass in; then followed her and shut the door,
+that Bianca might not hear.
+
+"Sit down, please. N-now, tell me who you
+are."
+
+"It's no business of yours who I am. I have
+come to tell you that Zita Reni has gone away
+with my son."
+
+"With--your--son?"
+
+"Yes, sir; if you don't know how to keep your
+mistress when you've got her, you can't complain
+if other men take her. My son has blood in his
+veins, not milk and water; he comes of the
+Romany folk."
+
+"Ah, you are a gipsy! Zita has gone back to
+her own people, then?"
+
+She looked at him in amazed contempt. Apparently,
+these Christians had not even manhood
+enough to be angry when they were insulted.
+
+"What sort of stuff are you made of, that she
+should stay with you? Our women may lend
+themselves to you a bit for a girl's fancy, or if you
+pay them well; but the Romany blood comes back
+to the Romany folk."
+
+The Gadfly's face remained as cold and steady
+as before.
+
+"Has she gone away with a gipsy camp, or
+merely to live with your son?"
+
+The woman burst out laughing.
+
+"Do you think of following her and trying to
+win her back? It's too late, sir; you should have
+thought of that before!"
+
+"No; I only want to know the truth, if you will
+tell it to me."
+
+She shrugged her shoulders; it was hardly
+worth while to abuse a person who took it so
+meekly.
+
+"The truth, then, is that she met my son in the
+road the day you left her, and spoke to him in the
+Romany tongue; and when he saw she was one of
+our folk, in spite of her fine clothes, he fell in love
+with her bonny face, as OUR men fall in love, and
+took her to our camp. She told us all her trouble,
+and sat crying and sobbing, poor lassie, till our
+hearts were sore for her. We comforted her as
+best we could; and at last she took off her fine
+clothes and put on the things our lasses wear, and
+gave herself to my son, to be his woman and to
+have him for her man. He won't say to her: 'I
+don't love you,' and: 'I've other things to do.'
+When a woman is young, she wants a man; and
+what sort of man are you, that you can't even
+kiss a handsome girl when she puts her arms round
+your neck?"
+
+"You said," he interrupted, "that you had
+brought me a message from her."
+
+"Yes; I stopped behind when the camp went
+on, so as to give it. She told me to say that she
+has had enough of your folk and their hair-splitting
+and their sluggish blood; and that she wants
+to get back to her own people and be free. 'Tell
+him,' she said, 'that I am a woman, and that I
+loved him; and that is why I would not be his
+harlot any longer.' The lassie was right to come
+away. There's no harm in a girl getting a bit of
+money out of her good looks if she can--that's
+what good looks are for; but a Romany lass has
+nothing to do with LOVING a man of your race."
+
+The Gadfly stood up.
+
+"Is that all the message?" he said. "Then tell
+her, please, that I think she has done right, and
+that I hope she will be happy. That is all I have
+to say. Good-night!"
+
+He stood perfectly still until the garden gate
+closed behind her; then he sat down and covered
+his face with both hands.
+
+Another blow on the cheek! Was no rag of
+pride to be left him--no shred of self-respect?
+Surely he had suffered everything that man can
+endure; his very heart had been dragged in the
+mud and trampled under the feet of the passers-by;
+there was no spot in his soul where someone's contempt
+was not branded in, where someone's mockery
+had not left its iron trace. And now this gipsy
+girl, whom he had picked up by the wayside--
+even she had the whip in her hand.
+
+Shaitan whined at the door, and the Gadfly
+rose to let him in. The dog rushed up to his master
+with his usual frantic manifestations of delight,
+but soon, understanding that something was
+wrong, lay down on the rug beside him, and thrust
+a cold nose into the listless hand.
+
+An hour later Gemma came up to the front door.
+No one appeared in answer to her knock; Bianca,
+finding that the Gadfly did not want any dinner,
+had slipped out to visit a neighbour's cook. She
+had left the door open, and a light burning in the
+hall. Gemma, after waiting for some time, decided
+to enter and try if she could find the Gadfly, as she
+wished to speak to him about an important message
+which had come from Bailey. She knocked
+at the study door, and the Gadfly's voice answered
+from within: "You can go away, Bianca. I don't
+want anything."
+
+She softly opened the door. The room was
+quite dark, but the passage lamp threw a long
+stream of light across it as she entered, and she saw
+the Gadfly sitting alone, his head sunk on his
+breast, and the dog asleep at his feet.
+
+"It is I," she said.
+
+He started up. "Gemma,---- Gemma! Oh,
+I have wanted you so!"
+
+Before she could speak he was kneeling on the
+floor at her feet and hiding his face in the folds of
+her dress. His whole body was shaken with a convulsive
+tremor that was worse to see than tears.
+
+She stood still. There was nothing she could
+do to help him--nothing. This was the bitterest
+thing of all. She must stand by and look on passively
+--she who would have died to spare him
+pain. Could she but dare to stoop and clasp her
+arms about him, to hold him close against her
+heart and shield him, were it with her own body,
+from all further harm or wrong; surely then he
+would be Arthur to her again; surely then the day
+would break and the shadows flee away.
+
+Ah, no, no! How could he ever forget? Was
+it not she who had cast him into hell--she, with
+her own right hand?
+
+She had let the moment slip by. He rose
+hastily and sat down by the table, covering his
+eyes with one hand and biting his lip as if he would
+bite it through.
+
+Presently he looked up and said quietly:
+
+"I am afraid I startled you."
+
+She held out both her hands to him. "Dear,"
+she said, "are we not friends enough by now for
+you to trust me a little bit? What is it?"
+
+"Only a private trouble of my own. I don't
+see why you should be worried over it."
+
+"Listen a moment," she went on, taking his
+hand in both of hers to steady its convulsive
+trembling. "I have not tried to lay hands on a
+thing that is not mine to touch. But now that
+you have given me, of your own free will, so much
+of your confidence, will you not give me a little
+more--as you would do if I were your sister.
+Keep the mask on your face, if it is any consolation
+to you, but don't wear a mask on your soul,
+for your own sake."
+
+He bent his head lower. "You must be patient
+with me," he said. "I am an unsatisfactory sort
+of brother to have, I'm afraid; but if you only
+knew---- I have been nearly mad this last week.
+It has been like South America again. And somehow
+the devil gets into me and----" He broke off.
+
+"May I not have my share in your trouble?"
+she whispered at last.
+
+His head sank down on her arm. "The hand of
+the Lord is heavy."
+
+
+
+
+
+PART III.
+
+----------
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+THE next five weeks were spent by Gemma and
+the Gadfly in a whirl of excitement and overwork
+which left them little time or energy for thinking
+about their personal affairs. When the arms had
+been safely smuggled into Papal territory there
+remained a still more difficult and dangerous task:
+that of conveying them unobserved from the secret
+stores in the mountain caverns and ravines to the
+various local centres and thence to the separate
+villages. The whole district was swarming with
+spies; and Domenichino, to whom the Gadfly had
+intrusted the ammunition, sent into Florence a
+messenger with an urgent appeal for either help
+or extra time. The Gadfly had insisted that the
+work should be finished by the middle of June;
+and what with the difficulty of conveying heavy
+transports over bad roads, and the endless hindrances
+and delays caused by the necessity of continually
+evading observation, Domenichino was
+growing desperate. "I am between Scylla and
+Charybdis," he wrote. "I dare not work quickly,
+for fear of detection, and I must not work slowly
+if we are to be ready in time. Either send me
+efficient help at once, or let the Venetians know
+that we shall not be ready till the first week in
+July."
+
+The Gadfly carried the letter to Gemma and,
+while she read it, sat frowning at the floor and
+stroking the cat's fur the wrong way.
+
+"This is bad," she said. "We can hardly keep
+the Venetians waiting for three weeks."
+
+"Of course we can't; the thing is absurd.
+Domenichino m-might unders-s-stand that. We
+must follow the lead of the Venetians, not they
+ours."
+
+"I don't see that Domenichino is to blame; he
+has evidently done his best, and he can't do
+impossibilities."
+
+"It's not in Domenichino that the fault lies; it's
+in the fact of his being one person instead of two.
+We ought to have at least one responsible man
+to guard the store and another to see the transports
+off. He is quite right; he must have efficient help."
+
+"But what help are we going to give him? We
+have no one in Florence to send."
+
+"Then I m-must go myself."
+
+She leaned back in her chair and looked at him
+with a little frown.
+
+"No, that won't do; it's too risky."
+
+"It will have to do if we can't f-f-find any other
+way out of the difficulty."
+
+"Then we must find another way, that's all.
+It's out of the question for you to go again just
+now."
+
+An obstinate line appeared at the corners of his
+under lip.
+
+"I d-don't see that it's out of the question."
+
+"You will see if you think about the thing
+calmly for a minute. It is only five weeks since
+you got back; the police are on the scent about
+that pilgrim business, and scouring the country
+to find a clue. Yes, I know you are clever at disguises;
+but remember what a lot of people saw you, both as
+Diego and as the countryman; and you can't disguise
+your lameness or the scar on your face."
+
+"There are p-plenty of lame people in the world."
+
+"Yes, but there are not plenty of people in the
+Romagna with a lame foot and a sabre-cut across
+the cheek and a left arm injured like yours, and
+the combination of blue eyes with such dark
+colouring."
+
+"The eyes don't matter; I can alter them with
+belladonna."
+
+"You can't alter the other things. No, it won't
+do. For you to go there just now, with all your
+identification-marks, would be to walk into a trap
+with your eyes open. You would certainly be
+taken."
+
+"But s-s-someone must help Domenichino."
+
+"It will be no help to him to have you caught
+at a critical moment like this. Your arrest would
+mean the failure of the whole thing."
+
+But the Gadfly was difficult to convince, and
+the discussion went on and on without coming
+nearer to any settlement. Gemma was beginning
+to realize how nearly inexhaustible was the fund
+of quiet obstinacy in his character; and, had the
+matter not been one about which she felt strongly,
+she would probably have yielded for the sake of
+peace. This, however, was a case in which she
+could not conscientiously give way; the practical
+advantage to be gained from the proposed journey
+seemed to her not sufficiently important to be
+worth the risk, and she could not help suspecting
+that his desire to go was prompted less by a conviction
+of grave political necessity than by a morbid
+craving for the excitement of danger. He had
+got into the habit of risking his neck, and his tendency
+to run into unnecessary peril seemed to her
+a form of intemperance which should be quietly
+but steadily resisted. Finding all her arguments
+unavailing against his dogged resolve to go his
+own way, she fired her last shot.
+
+"Let us be honest about it, anyway," she said;
+"and call things by their true names. It is not
+Domenichino's difficulty that makes you so determined
+to go. It is your own personal passion for----"
+
+"It's not true!" he interrupted vehemently.
+"He is nothing to me; I don't care if I never see
+him again."
+
+He broke off, seeing in her face that he had
+betrayed himself. Their eyes met for an instant,
+and dropped; and neither of them uttered the
+name that was in both their minds.
+
+"It--it is not Domenichino I want to save," he
+stammered at last, with his face half buried in the
+cat's fur; "it is that I--I understand the danger
+of the work failing if he has no help."
+
+She passed over the feeble little subterfuge, and
+went on as if there had been no interruption:
+
+"It is your passion for running into danger
+which makes you want to go there. You have
+the same craving for danger when you are worried
+that you had for opium when you were ill."
+
+"It was not I that asked for the opium," he said
+defiantly; "it was the others who insisted on giving
+it to me."
+
+"I dare say. You plume yourself a little on
+your stoicism, and to ask for physical relief would
+have hurt your pride; but it is rather flattered than
+otherwise when you risk your life to relieve the
+irritation of your nerves. And yet, after all, the
+distinction is a merely conventional one."
+
+He drew the cat's head back and looked down
+into the round, green eyes. "Is it true, Pasht?"
+he said. "Are all these unkind things true that
+your mistress is s-saying about me? Is it a case
+of mea culpa; mea m-maxima culpa? You wise
+beast, you never ask for opium, do you? Your
+ancestors were gods in Egypt, and no man t-trod
+on their tails. I wonder, though, what would become
+of your calm superiority to earthly ills if I
+were to take this paw of yours and hold it in the
+c-candle. Would you ask me for opium then?
+Would you? Or perhaps--for death? No,
+pussy, we have no right to die for our personal
+convenience. We may spit and s-swear a bit, if
+it consoles us; but we mustn't pull the paw away."
+
+"Hush!" She took the cat off his knee and
+put it down on a footstool. "You and I will
+have time for thinking about those things later
+on. What we have to think of now is how to get
+Domenichino out of his difficulty. What is it,
+Katie; a visitor? I am busy."
+
+"Miss Wright has sent you this, ma'am, by
+hand."
+
+The packet, which was carefully sealed, contained
+a letter, addressed to Miss Wright, but
+unopened and with a Papal stamp. Gemma's
+old school friends still lived in Florence, and
+her more important letters were often received,
+for safety, at their address.
+
+"It is Michele's mark," she said, glancing
+quickly over the letter, which seemed to be about
+the summer-terms at a boarding house in the
+Apennines, and pointing to two little blots on a
+corner of the page. "It is in chemical ink; the
+reagent is in the third drawer of the writing-table.
+Yes; that is it."
+
+He laid the letter open on the desk and passed
+a little brush over its pages. When the real message
+stood out on the paper in a brilliant blue line,
+he leaned back in his chair and burst out laughing.
+
+"What is it?" she asked hurriedly. He
+handed her the paper.
+
+"DOMENICHINO HAS BEEN ARRESTED. COME AT ONCE."
+
+She sat down with the paper in her hand and
+stared hopelessly at the Gadfly.
+
+"W-well?" he said at last, with his soft, ironical
+drawl; "are you satisfied now that I must go?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose you must," she answered, sighing.
+"And I too."
+
+He looked up with a little start. "You too? But----"
+
+"Of course. It will be very awkward, I know,
+to be left without anyone here in Florence; but
+everything must go to the wall now except the
+providing of an extra pair of hands."
+
+"There are plenty of hands to be got there."
+
+"They don't belong to people whom you can
+trust thoroughly, though. You said yourself just
+now that there must be two responsible persons
+in charge; and if Domenichino couldn't manage
+alone it is evidently impossible for you to do so.
+A person as desperately compromised as you are
+is very much handicapped, remember, in work of
+that kind, and more dependent on help than anyone
+else would be. Instead of you and Domenichino,
+it must be you and I."
+
+He considered for a moment, frowning.
+
+"Yes, you are quite right," he said; "and the
+sooner we go the better. But we must not start
+together. If I go off to-night, you can take, say,
+the afternoon coach to-morrow."
+
+"Where to?"
+
+"That we must discuss. I think I had b-b-better
+go straight in to Faenza. If I start late to-night
+and ride to Borgo San Lorenzo I can get
+my disguise arranged there and go straight on."
+
+"I don't see what else we can do," she said, with
+an anxious little frown; "but it is very risky, your
+going off in such a hurry and trusting to the smugglers
+finding you a disguise at Borgo. You ought
+to have at least three clear days to double on your
+trace before you cross the frontier."
+
+"You needn't be afraid," he answered, smiling;
+"I may get taken further on, but not at the frontier.
+Once in the hills I am as safe as here; there's
+not a smuggler in the Apennines that would betray me.
+What I am not quite sure about is how you are to get across."
+
+"Oh, that is very simple! I shall take Louisa
+Wright's passport and go for a holiday. No one
+knows me in the Romagna, but every spy knows you."
+
+"F-fortunately, so does every smuggler."
+
+She took out her watch.
+
+"Half-past two. We have the afternoon and
+evening, then, if you are to start to-night."
+
+"Then the best thing will be for me to go home
+and settle everything now, and arrange about
+a good horse. I shall ride in to San Lorenzo; it
+will be safer."
+
+"But it won't be safe at all to hire a horse. The
+owner will-----"
+
+"I shan't hire one. I know a man that will lend
+me a horse, and that can be trusted. He has done
+things for me before. One of the shepherds will
+bring it back in a fortnight. I shall be here again
+by five or half-past, then; and while I am gone,
+I w-want you to go and find Martini and exp-plain
+everything to him."
+
+"Martini!" She turned round and looked at
+him in astonishment.
+
+"Yes; we must take him into confidence--unless
+you can think of anyone else."
+
+"I don't quite understand what you mean."
+
+"We must have someone here whom we can
+trust, in case of any special difficulty; and of all
+the set here Martini is the man in whom I have
+most confidence. Riccardo would do anything he
+could for us, of course; but I think Martini has
+a steadier head. Still, you know him better than
+I do; it is as you think."
+
+"I have not the slightest doubt as to Martini's
+trustworthiness and efficiency in every respect; and
+I think he would probably consent to give us any
+help he could. But----"
+
+He understood at once.
+
+"Gemma, what would you feel if you found out
+that a comrade in bitter need had not asked you
+for help you might have given, for fear of hurting
+or distressing you? Would you say there was any
+true kindness in that?"
+
+"Very well," she said, after a little pause; "I
+will send Katie round at once and ask him to
+come; and while she is gone I will go to Louisa
+for her passport; she promised to lend it whenever
+I want one. What about money? Shall I draw
+some out of the bank?"
+
+"No; don't waste time on that; I can draw
+enough from my account to last us for a bit. We
+will fall back on yours later on if my balance runs
+short. Till half-past five, then; I shall be sure to
+find you here, of course?"
+
+"Oh, yes! I shall be back long before then."
+
+Half an hour after the appointed time he returned,
+and found Gemma and Martini sitting on
+the terrace together. He saw at once that their
+conversation had been a distressing one; the traces
+of agitation were visible in both of them, and Martini
+was unusually silent and glum.
+
+"Have you arranged everything?" she asked,
+looking up.
+
+"Yes; and I have brought you some money for
+the journey. The horse will be ready for me at
+the Ponte Rosso barrier at one in the night."
+
+"Is not that rather late? You ought to get
+into San Lorenzo before the people are up in the
+morning."
+
+"So I shall; it's a very fast horse; and I don't
+want to leave here when there's a chance of anyone
+noticing me. I shan't go home any more;
+there's a spy watching at the door, and he thinks
+me in."
+
+"How did you get out without his seeing
+you?"
+
+"Out of the kitchen window into the back garden
+and over the neighbour's orchard wall; that's
+what makes me so late; I had to dodge him. I
+left the owner of the horse to sit in the study all
+the evening with the lamp lighted. When the spy
+sees the light in the window and a shadow on the
+blind he will be quite satisfied that I am writing
+at home this evening."
+
+"Then you will stay here till it is time to go to
+the barrier?"
+
+"Yes; I don't want to be seen in the street any
+more to-night. Have a cigar, Martini? I know
+Signora Bolla doesn't mind smoke."
+
+"I shan't be here to mind; I must go downstairs
+and help Katie with the dinner."
+
+When she had gone Martini got up and began
+to pace to and fro with his hands behind his back.
+The Gadfly sat smoking and looking silently out
+at the drizzling rain.
+
+"Rivarez!" Martini began, stopping in front of
+him, but keeping his eyes on the ground; "what
+sort of thing are you going to drag her into?"
+
+The Gadfly took the cigar from his mouth and
+blew away a long trail of smoke.
+
+"She has chosen for herself," he said, "without
+compulsion on anyone's part."
+
+"Yes, yes--I know. But tell me----"
+
+He stopped.
+
+"I will tell you anything I can."
+
+"Well, then--I don't know much about the
+details of these affairs in the hills,--are you going
+to take her into any very serious danger?"
+
+"Do you want the truth?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then--yes."
+
+Martini turned away and went on pacing up and
+down. Presently he stopped again.
+
+"I want to ask you another question. If you
+don't choose to answer it, you needn't, of course;
+but if you do answer, then answer honestly. Are
+you in love with her?"
+
+The Gadfly deliberately knocked the ash from
+his cigar and went on smoking in silence.
+
+"That means--that you don't choose to
+answer?"
+
+"No; only that I think I have a right to know
+why you ask me that."
+
+"Why? Good God, man, can't you see why?"
+
+"Ah!" He laid down his cigar and looked
+steadily at Martini. "Yes," he said at last,
+slowly and softly. "I am in love with her. But
+you needn't think I am going to make love to
+her, or worry about it. I am only going
+to----"
+
+His voice died away in a strange, faint whisper.
+Martini came a step nearer.
+
+"Only going--to----"
+
+"To die."
+
+He was staring straight before him with a cold,
+fixed look, as if he were dead already. When he
+spoke again his voice was curiously lifeless and even.
+
+"You needn't worry her about it beforehand,"
+he said; "but there's not the ghost of a chance for
+me. It's dangerous for everyone; that she knows
+as well as I do; but the smugglers will do their
+best to prevent her getting taken. They are good
+fellows, though they are a bit rough. As for me,
+the rope is round my neck, and when I cross the
+frontier I pull the noose."
+
+"Rivarez, what do you mean? Of course it's
+dangerous, and particularly so for you; I understand
+that; but you have often crossed the frontier
+before and always been successful."
+
+"Yes, and this time I shall fail."
+
+"But why? How can you know?"
+
+The Gadfly smiled drearily.
+
+"Do you remember the German legend of the
+man that died when he met his own Double? No?
+It appeared to him at night in a lonely place,
+wringing its hands in despair. Well, I met mine
+the last time I was in the hills; and when I cross
+the frontier again I shan't come back."
+
+Martini came up to him and put a hand on the
+back of his chair.
+
+"Listen, Rivarez; I don't understand a word
+of all this metaphysical stuff, but I do understand
+one thing: If you feel about it that way, you are
+not in a fit state to go. The surest way to get
+taken is to go with a conviction that you will be
+taken. You must be ill, or out of sorts somehow,
+to get maggots of that kind into your head. Suppose
+I go instead of you? I can do any practical
+work there is to be done, and you can send a
+message to your men, explaining------"
+
+"And let you get killed instead? That would
+be very clever."
+
+"Oh, I'm not likely to get killed! They don't
+know me as they do you. And, besides, even if
+I did------"
+
+He stopped, and the Gadfly looked up with a
+slow, inquiring gaze. Martini's hand dropped by
+his side.
+
+"She very likely wouldn't miss me as much as
+she would you," he said in his most matter-of-fact
+voice. "And then, besides, Rivarez, this is public
+business, and we have to look at it from the point
+of view of utility--the greatest good of the greatest
+number. Your 'final value'---isn't that what
+the economists call it?--is higher than mine; I
+have brains enough to see that, though I haven't
+any cause to be particularly fond of you. You
+are a bigger man than I am; I'm not sure that
+you are a better one, but there's more of you,
+and your death would be a greater loss than mine."
+
+From the way he spoke he might have been discussing
+the value of shares on the Exchange. The
+Gadfly looked up, shivering as if with cold.
+
+"Would you have me wait till my grave opens
+of itself to swallow me up?
+
+
+                "If I must die,
+I will encounter darkness as a bride----
+
+Look here, Martini, you and I are talking nonsense."
+
+"You are, certainly," said Martini gruffly.
+
+"Yes, and so are you. For Heaven's sake, don't
+let's go in for romantic self-sacrifice, like Don
+Carlos and Marquis Posa. This is the nineteenth
+century; and if it's my business to die, I have got
+to do it."
+
+"And if it's my business to live, I have got to
+do that, I suppose. You're the lucky one,
+Rivarez."
+
+"Yes," the Gadfly assented laconically; "I was
+always lucky."
+
+They smoked in silence for a few minutes, and
+then began to talk of business details. When
+Gemma came up to call them to dinner, neither
+of them betrayed in face or manner that their
+conversation had been in any way unusual.
+After dinner they sat discussing plans and making
+necessary arrangements till eleven o'clock, when
+Martini rose and took his hat.
+
+"I will go home and fetch that riding-cloak of
+mine, Rivarez. I think you will be less recognizable
+in it than in your light suit. I want to
+reconnoitre a bit, too, and make sure there are no
+spies about before we start."
+
+"Are you coming with me to the barrier?"
+
+"Yes; it's safer to have four eyes than two in
+case of anyone following you. I'll be back by
+twelve. Be sure you don't start without me. I
+had better take the key, Gemma, so as not to wake
+anyone by ringing."
+
+She raised her eyes to his face as he took the
+keys. She understood that he had invented a pretext
+in order to leave her alone with the Gadfly.
+
+"You and I will talk to-morrow," she said.
+"We shall have time in the morning, when my
+packing is finished."
+
+"Oh, yes! Plenty of time. There are two or
+three little things I want to ask you about, Rivarez;
+but we can talk them over on our way to the
+barrier. You had better send Katie to bed,
+Gemma; and be as quiet as you can, both of you.
+Good-bye till twelve, then."
+
+He went away with a little nod and smile, banging
+the door after him to let the neighbours hear
+that Signora Bolla's visitor was gone.
+
+Gemma went out into the kitchen to say good-night
+to Katie, and came back with black coffee on a tray.
+
+"Would you like to lie down a bit?" she said.
+"You won't have any sleep the rest of the night."
+
+"Oh, dear no! I shall sleep at San Lorenzo
+while the men are getting my disguise ready."
+
+"Then have some coffee. Wait a minute; I
+will get you out the biscuits."
+
+As she knelt down at the side-board he suddenly
+stooped over her shoulder.
+
+"Whatever have you got there? Chocolate
+creams and English toffee! Why, this is l-luxury
+for a king!"
+
+She looked up, smiling faintly at his enthusiastic tone.
+
+"Are you fond of sweets? I always keep them
+for Cesare; he is a perfect baby over any kind of
+lollipops."
+
+"R-r-really? Well, you must get him s-some
+more to-morrow and give me these to take with
+me. No, let me p-p-put the toffee in my pocket;
+it will console me for all the lost joys of life. I
+d-do hope they'll give me a bit of toffee to suck
+the day I'm hanged."
+
+"Oh, do let me find a cardboard box for it, at
+least, before you put it in your pocket! You
+will be so sticky! Shall I put the chocolates in, too?"
+
+"No, I want to eat them now, with you."
+
+"But I don't like chocolate, and I want you to
+come and sit down like a reasonable human being.
+We very likely shan't have another chance to talk
+quietly before one or other of us is killed, and------"
+
+"She d-d-doesn't like chocolate!" he murmured
+under his breath. "Then I must be greedy
+all by myself. This is a case of the hangman's
+supper, isn't it? You are going to humour all my
+whims to-night. First of all, I want you to sit
+on this easy-chair, and, as you said I might lie
+down, I shall lie here and be comfortable."
+
+He threw himself down on the rug at her feet,
+leaning his elbow on the chair and looking up into
+her face.
+
+"How pale you are!" he said. "That's because
+you take life sadly, and don't like chocolate----"
+
+"Do be serious for just five minutes! After all,
+it is a matter of life and death."
+
+"Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life
+nor death is worth it."
+
+He had taken hold of both her hands and was
+stroking them with the tips of his fingers.
+
+"Don't look so grave, Minerva! You'll make
+me cry in a minute, and then you'll be sorry. I do
+wish you'd smile again; you have such a d-delightfully
+unexpected smile. There now, don't scold
+me, dear! Let us eat our biscuits together, like
+two good children, without quarrelling over them
+--for to-morrow we die."
+
+He took a sweet biscuit from the plate and
+carefully halved it, breaking the sugar ornament
+down the middle with scrupulous exactness.
+
+"This is a kind of sacrament, like what the
+goody-goody people have in church. 'Take, eat;
+this is my body.' And we must d-drink the wine
+out of the s-s-same glass, you know--yes, that is
+right. 'Do this in remembrance----'"
+
+She put down the glass.
+
+"Don't!" she said, with almost a sob. He
+looked up, and took her hands again.
+
+"Hush, then! Let us be quiet for a little bit.
+When one of us dies, the other will remember this.
+We will forget this loud, insistent world that howls
+about our ears; we will go away together, hand in
+hand; we will go away into the secret halls of
+death, and lie among the poppy-flowers. Hush!
+We will be quite still."
+
+He laid his head down against her knee and covered
+his face. In the silence she bent over him,
+her hand on the black head. So the time slipped
+on and on; and they neither moved nor spoke.
+
+"Dear, it is almost twelve," she said at last.
+He raised his head.
+
+"We have only a few minutes more; Martini
+will be back presently. Perhaps we shall never
+see each other again. Have you nothing to say
+to me?"
+
+He slowly rose and walked away to the other
+side of the room. There was a moment's silence.
+
+"I have one thing to say," he began in a hardly
+audible voice; "one thing--to tell you----"
+
+He stopped and sat down by the window, hiding
+his face in both hands.
+
+"You have been a long time deciding to be
+merciful," she said softly.
+
+"I have not seen much mercy in my life; and I
+thought--at first--you wouldn't care----"
+
+"You don't think that now."
+
+She waited a moment for him to speak and then
+crossed the room and stood beside him.
+
+"Tell me the truth at last," she whispered.
+"Think, if you are killed and I not--I should have
+to go through all my life and never know--never
+be quite sure----"
+
+He took her hands and clasped them tightly.
+
+"If I am killed---- You see, when I went to
+South America---- Ah, Martini!"
+
+He broke away with a violent start and threw
+open the door of the room. Martini was rubbing
+his boots on the mat.
+
+"Punctual to the m-m-minute, as usual!
+You're an an-n-nimated chronometer, Martini. Is
+that the r-r-riding-cloak?"
+
+"Yes; and two or three other things. I have
+kept them as dry as I could, but it's pouring with
+rain. You will have a most uncomfortable ride,
+I'm afraid."
+
+"Oh, that's no matter. Is the street clear?"
+
+"Yes; all the spies seem to have gone to bed.
+I don't much wonder either, on such a villainous
+night. Is that coffee, Gemma? He ought to
+have something hot before he goes out into the
+wet, or he will catch cold."
+
+"It is black coffee, and very strong. I will boil
+some milk."
+
+She went into the kitchen, passionately clenching
+her teeth and hands to keep from breaking
+down. When she returned with the milk the Gadfly
+had put on the riding-cloak and was fastening
+the leather gaiters which Martini had brought.
+He drank a cup of coffee, standing, and took up
+the broad-brimmed riding hat.
+
+"I think it's time to start, Martini; we must
+make a round before we go to the barrier, in case
+of anything. Good-bye, for the present, signora;
+I shall meet you at Forli on Friday, then, unless
+anything special turns up. Wait a minute; th-this
+is the address."
+
+He tore a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote
+a few words in pencil.
+
+"I have it already," she said in a dull, quiet
+voice.
+
+"H-have you? Well, there it is, anyway.
+Come, Martini. Sh-sh-sh! Don't let the door creak!"
+
+They crept softly downstairs. When the street
+door clicked behind them she went back into the
+room and mechanically unfolded the paper he had
+put into her hand. Underneath the address was
+written:
+
+"I will tell you everything there."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+IT was market-day in Brisighella, and the country
+folk had come in from the villages and hamlets
+of the district with their pigs and poultry, their
+dairy produce and droves of half-wild mountain
+cattle. The market-place was thronged with a
+perpetually shifting crowd, laughing, joking, bargaining
+for dried figs, cheap cakes, and sunflower
+seeds. The brown, bare-footed children sprawled,
+face downward, on the pavement in the hot sun,
+while their mothers sat under the trees with their
+baskets of butter and eggs.
+
+Monsignor Montanelli, coming out to wish the
+people "Good-morning," was at once surrounded
+by a clamourous throng of children, holding up for
+his acceptance great bunches of irises and scarlet
+poppies and sweet white narcissus from the mountain
+slopes. His passion for wild flowers was
+affectionately tolerated by the people, as one of
+the little follies which sit gracefully on very wise
+men. If anyone less universally beloved had filled
+his house with weeds and grasses they would have
+laughed at him; but the "blessed Cardinal" could
+afford a few harmless eccentricities.
+
+"Well, Mariuccia," he said, stopping to pat one of
+the children on the head; "you have grown since I saw
+you last. And how is the grandmother's rheumatism?"
+
+"She's been better lately, Your Eminence; but
+mother's bad now."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear that; tell the mother to
+come down here some day and see whether Dr.
+Giordani can do anything for her. I will find
+somewhere to put her up; perhaps the change
+will do her good. You are looking better, Luigi;
+how are your eyes?"
+
+He passed on, chatting with the mountaineers.
+He always remembered the names and ages of
+the children, their troubles and those of their
+parents; and would stop to inquire, with sympathetic
+interest, for the health of the cow that fell
+sick at Christmas, or of the rag-doll that was
+crushed under a cart-wheel last market-day.
+
+When he returned to the palace the marketing
+began. A lame man in a blue shirt, with a shock
+of black hair hanging into his eyes and a deep scar
+across the left cheek, lounged up to one of the
+booths and, in very bad Italian, asked for a drink
+of lemonade.
+
+"You're not from these parts," said the woman
+who poured it out, glancing up at him.
+
+"No. I come from Corsica."
+
+"Looking for work?"
+
+"Yes; it will be hay-cutting time soon, and a
+gentleman that has a farm near Ravenna came
+across to Bastia the other day and told me there's
+plenty of work to be got there."
+
+"I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are
+bad hereabouts."
+
+"They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't
+know what we poor folk are coming to."
+
+"Have you come over alone?"
+
+"No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the
+red shirt. Hola, Paolo!"
+
+Michele hearing himself called, came lounging
+up with his hands in his pockets. He made a
+fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig which
+he had put on to render himself unrecognizable.
+As for the Gadfly, he looked his part to perfection.
+
+They sauntered through the market-place together,
+Michele whistling between his teeth, and
+the Gadfly trudging along with a bundle over his
+shoulder, shuffling his feet on the ground to render
+his lameness less observable. They were waiting
+for an emissary, to whom important directions
+had to be given.
+
+"There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner,"
+Michele whispered suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying
+his bundle, shuffled towards the horseman.
+
+"Do you happen to be wanting a hay-maker,
+sir?" he said, touching his ragged cap and running
+one finger along the bridle. It was the signal
+agreed upon, and the rider, who from his
+appearance might have been a country squire's
+bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins on the
+horse's neck.
+
+"What sort of work can you do, my man?"
+
+The Gadfly fumbled with his cap.
+
+"I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges"--he
+began; and without any break in his voice, went
+straight on: "At one in the morning at the
+mouth of the round cave. You must have two
+good horses and a cart. I shall be waiting inside
+the cave---- And then I can dig, sir, and----"
+
+"That will do, I only want a grass-cutter.
+Have you ever been out before?"
+
+"Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed;
+we may meet a flying squadron. Don't go by the
+wood-path; you're safer on the other side. If
+you meet a spy, don't stop to argue with him; fire
+at once---- I should be very glad of work, sir."
+
+"Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced
+grass-cutter. No, I haven't got any coppers to-day."
+
+A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them,
+with a doleful, monotonous whine.
+
+"Have pity on a poor blind man, in the name
+of the Blessed Virgin------ Get out of this place at
+once; there's a flying squadron coming along----
+Most Holy Queen of Heaven, Maiden undefiled--
+It's you they're after, Rivarez; they'll be here in
+two minutes---- And so may the saints reward
+you---- You'll have to make a dash for it; there
+are spies at all the corners. It's no use trying to
+slip away without being seen."
+
+Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand.
+
+"Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let
+the horse go; you can hide in the ravine. We're
+all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes."
+
+"No. I won't have you fellows taken. Stand
+together, all of you, and fire after me in order.
+Move up towards our horses; there they are, tethered
+by the palace steps; and have your knives
+ready. We retreat fighting, and when I throw
+my cap down, cut the halters and jump every man
+on the nearest horse. We may all reach the wood
+that way."
+
+They had spoken in so quiet an undertone that
+even the nearest bystanders had not supposed
+their conversation to refer to anything more dangerous
+than grass-cutting. Marcone, leading his
+own mare by the bridle, walked towards the
+tethered horses, the Gadfly slouching along beside
+him, and the beggar following them with an outstretched
+hand and a persistent whine. Michele
+came up whistling; the beggar had warned him
+in passing, and he quietly handed on the news to
+three countrymen who were eating raw onions
+under a tree. They immediately rose and followed
+him; and before anyone's notice had been
+attracted to them, the whole seven were standing
+together by the steps of the palace, each man with
+one hand on the hidden pistol, and the tethered
+horses within easy reach.
+
+"Don't betray yourselves till I move," the Gadfly
+said softly and clearly. "They may not recognize us.
+When I fire, then begin in order. Don't
+fire at the men; lame their horses--then they can't
+follow us. Three of you fire, while the other
+three reload. If anyone comes between you and
+our horses, kill him. I take the roan. When I
+throw down my cap, each man for himself; don't
+stop for anything."
+
+"Here they come," said Michele; and the Gadfly
+turned round, with an air of naive and stupid
+wonder, as the people suddenly broke off in their
+bargaining.
+
+Fifteen armed men rode slowly into the marketplace.
+They had great difficulty to get past the
+throng of people at all, and, but for the spies at
+the corners of the square, all the seven conspirators
+could have slipped quietly away while the
+attention of the crowd was fixed upon the soldiers.
+Michele moved a little closer to the Gadfly.
+
+"Couldn't we get away now?"
+
+"No; we're surrounded with spies, and one of
+them has recognized me. He has just sent a man
+to tell the captain where I am. Our only chance
+is to lame their horses."
+
+"Which is the spy?"
+
+"The first man I fire at. Are you all ready?
+They have made a lane to us; they are going to
+come with a rush."
+
+"Out of the way there!" shouted the captain.
+"In the name of His Holiness!"
+
+The crowd had drawn back, startled and wondering;
+and the soldiers made a quick dash towards
+the little group standing by the palace steps.
+The Gadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired,
+not at the advancing troops, but at the spy, who
+was approaching the horses, and who fell back
+with a broken collar-bone. Immediately after
+the report, six more shots were fired in quick succession,
+as the conspirators moved steadily closer
+to the tethered horses.
+
+One of the cavalry horses stumbled and
+plunged; another fell to the ground with a fearful
+cry. Then, through the shrieking of the panic-stricken
+people, came the loud, imperious voice of
+the officer in command, who had risen in the
+stirrups and was holding a sword above his head.
+
+"This way, men!"
+
+He swayed in the saddle and sank back; the
+Gadfly had fired again with his deadly aim. A
+little stream of blood was trickling down the captain's
+uniform; but he steadied himself with a
+violent effort, and, clutching at his horse's mane,
+cried out fiercely:
+
+"Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive!
+It's Rivarez!"
+
+"Another pistol, quick!" the Gadfly called to
+his men; "and go!"
+
+He flung down his cap. It was only just in
+time, for the swords of the now infuriated soldiers
+were flashing close in front of him.
+
+"Put down your weapons, all of you!"
+
+Cardinal Montanelli had stepped suddenly between
+the combatants; and one of the soldiers
+cried out in a voice sharp with terror:
+
+"Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!"
+
+Montanelli only moved a step nearer, and faced
+the Gadfly's pistol.
+
+Five of the conspirators were already on horseback
+and dashing up the hilly street. Marcone
+sprang on to the back of his mare. In the moment
+of riding away, he glanced back to see
+whether his leader was in need of help. The roan
+was close at hand, and in another instant all would
+have been safe; but as the figure in the scarlet
+cassock stepped forward, the Gadfly suddenly
+wavered and the hand with the pistol sank down.
+The instant decided everything. Immediately he
+was surrounded and flung violently to the ground,
+and the weapon was dashed out of his hand by a
+blow from the flat of a soldier's sword. Marcone
+struck his mare's flank with the stirrup; the hoofs
+of the cavalry horses were thundering up the hill
+behind him; and it would have been worse than
+useless to stay and be taken too. Turning in the
+saddle as he galloped away, to fire a last shot in
+the teeth of the nearest pursuer, he saw the Gadfly,
+with blood on his face, trampled under the feet
+of horses and soldiers and spies; and heard the
+savage curses of the captors, the yells of triumph
+and rage.
+
+Montanelli did not notice what had happened;
+he had moved away from the steps, and was trying
+to calm the terrified people. Presently, as he
+stooped over the wounded spy, a startled movement
+of the crowd made him look up. The soldiers were
+crossing the square, dragging their
+prisoner after them by the rope with which his
+hands were tied. His face was livid with pain and
+exhaustion, and he panted fearfully for breath;
+but he looked round at the Cardinal, smiling with
+white lips, and whispered:
+
+"I c-cong-gratulate your Eminence."
+
+     .      .      .      .      .
+
+Five days later Martini reached Forli. He
+had received from Gemma by post a bundle of
+printed circulars, the signal agreed upon in case of
+his being needed in any special emergency; and,
+remembering the conversation on the terrace, he
+guessed the truth at once. All through the journey
+he kept repeating to himself that there was
+no reason for supposing anything to have happened
+to the Gadfly, and that it was absurd to
+attach any importance to the childish superstitions
+of so nervous and fanciful a person; but the
+more he reasoned with himself against the idea,
+the more firmly did it take possession of his mind.
+
+"I have guessed what it is: Rivarez is taken, of
+course?" he said, as he came into Gemma's room.
+
+"He was arrested last Thursday, at Brisighella.
+He defended himself desperately and wounded the
+captain of the squadron and a spy."
+
+"Armed resistance; that's bad!"
+
+"It makes no difference; he was too deeply
+compromised already for a pistol-shot more or less
+to affect his position much."
+
+"What do you think they are going to do with
+him?"
+
+She grew a shade paler even than before.
+
+"I think," she said; "that we must not wait to
+find out what they mean to do."
+
+"You think we shall be able to effect a rescue?"
+
+"We MUST."
+
+He turned away and began to whistle, with his
+hands behind his back. Gemma let him think
+undisturbed. She was sitting still, leaning her
+head against the back of the chair, and looking
+out into vague distance with a fixed and tragic
+absorption. When her face wore that expression,
+it had a look of Durer's "Melancolia."
+
+"Have you seen him?" Martini asked, stopping
+for a moment in his tramp.
+
+"No; he was to have met me here the next
+morning."
+
+"Yes, I remember. Where is he?"
+
+"In the fortress; very strictly guarded, and,
+they say, in chains."
+
+He made a gesture of indifference.
+
+"Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid
+of any number of chains. If only he isn't
+wounded----"
+
+"He seems to have been slightly hurt, but
+exactly how much we don't know. I think you
+had better hear the account of it from Michele
+himself; he was present at the arrest."
+
+"How does he come not to have been taken
+too? Did he run away and leave Rivarez in the
+lurch?"
+
+"It's not his fault; he fought as long as anybody
+did, and followed the directions given him to
+the letter. For that matter, so did they all. The
+only person who seems to have forgotten, or
+somehow made a mistake at the last minute, is
+Rivarez himself. There's something inexplicable
+about it altogether. Wait a moment; I will call
+Michele."
+
+She went out of the room, and presently came
+back with Michele and a broad-shouldered mountaineer.
+
+"This is Marco," she said. "You have heard
+of him; he is one of the smugglers. He has just
+got here, and perhaps will be able to tell us more.
+Michele, this is Cesare Martini, that I spoke to
+you about. Will you tell him what happened, as
+far as you saw it?"
+
+Michele gave a short account of the skirmish
+with the squadron.
+
+"I can't understand how it happened," he concluded.
+"Not one of us would have left him if
+we had thought he would be taken; but his directions
+were quite precise, and it never occurred to
+us, when he threw down his cap, that he would
+wait to let them surround him. He was close beside
+the roan--I saw him cut the tether--and I
+handed him a loaded pistol myself before I
+mounted. The only thing I can suppose is that
+he missed his footing,--being lame,--in trying to
+mount. But even then, he could have fired."
+
+"No, it wasn't that," Marcone interposed.
+"He didn't attempt to mount. I was the last one
+to go, because my mare shied at the firing; and I
+looked round to see whether he was safe. He
+would have got off clear if it hadn't been for the
+Cardinal."
+
+"Ah!" Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini
+repeated in amazement: "The Cardinal?"
+
+"Yes; he threw himself in front of the pistol--
+confound him! I suppose Rivarez must have
+been startled, for he dropped his pistol-hand and
+put the other one up like this"--laying the back
+of his left wrist across his eyes--"and of course
+they all rushed on him."
+
+"I can't make that out," said Michele. "It's
+not like Rivarez to lose his head at a crisis."
+
+"Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing
+an unarmed man," Martini put in. Michele
+shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Unarmed men shouldn't poke their noses into
+the middle of a fight. War is war. If Rivarez
+had put a bullet into His Eminence, instead of letting
+himself be caught like a tame rabbit, there'd
+be one honest man the more and one priest the less."
+
+He turned away, biting his moustache. His
+anger was very near to breaking down in tears.
+
+"Anyway," said Martini, "the thing's done,
+and there's no use wasting time in discussing how
+it happened. The question now is how we're to
+arrange an escape for him. I suppose you're all
+willing to risk it?"
+
+Michele did not even condescend to answer the
+superfluous question, and the smuggler only remarked
+with a little laugh: "I'd shoot my own brother, if he
+weren't willing."
+
+"Very well, then---- First thing; have you
+got a plan of the fortress?"
+
+Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several
+sheets of paper.
+
+"I have made out all the plans. Here is the
+ground floor of the fortress; here are the upper
+and lower stories of the towers, and here the plan
+of the ramparts. These are the roads leading to
+the valley, and here are the paths and hiding-places
+in the mountains, and the underground passages."
+
+"Do you know which of the towers he is
+in?"
+
+"The east one, in the round room with the
+grated window. I have marked it on the plan."
+
+"How did you get your information?"
+
+"From a man nicknamed 'The Cricket,' a soldier
+of the guard. He is cousin to one of our men--Gino."
+
+"You have been quick about it."
+
+"There's no time to lose. Gino went into
+Brisighella at once; and some of the plans we
+already had. That list of hiding-places was made
+by Rivarez himself; you can see by the handwriting."
+
+"What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?"
+
+"That we have not been able to find out yet;
+the Cricket has only just come to the place, and
+knows nothing about the other men."
+
+"We must find out from Gino what the Cricket
+himself is like. Is anything known of the government's
+intentions? Is Rivarez likely to be tried
+in Brisighella or taken in to Ravenna?"
+
+"That we don't know. Ravenna, of course, is
+the chief town of the Legation and by law cases
+of importance can be tried only there, in the
+Tribunal of First Instance. But law doesn't count
+for much in the Four Legations; it depends on the
+personal fancy of anybody who happens to be in power."
+
+"They won't take him in to Ravenna," Michele interposed.
+
+"What makes you think so?"
+
+"I am sure of it. Colonel Ferrari, the military
+Governor at Brisighella, is uncle to the officer that
+Rivarez wounded; he's a vindictive sort of brute
+and won't give up a chance to spite an enemy."
+
+"You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?"
+
+"I think he will try to get him hanged."
+
+Martini glanced quickly at Gemma. She was
+very pale, but her face had not changed at the
+words. Evidently the idea was no new one to her.
+
+"He can hardly do that without some formality,"
+she said quietly; "but he might possibly
+get up a court-martial on some pretext or other,
+and justify himself afterwards by saying that the
+peace of the town required it."
+
+"But what about the Cardinal? Would he
+consent to things of that kind?"
+
+"He has no jurisdiction in military affairs."
+
+"No, but he has great influence. Surely the
+Governor would not venture on such a step without
+his consent?"
+
+"He'll never get that," Marcone interrupted.
+"Montanelli was always against the military
+commissions, and everything of the kind. So
+long as they keep him in Brisighella nothing
+serious can happen; the Cardinal will always take
+the part of any prisoner. What I am afraid of is
+their taking him to Ravenna. Once there, he's
+lost."
+
+"We shouldn't let him get there," said Michele.
+"We could manage a rescue on the road; but to
+get him out of the fortress here is another
+matter."
+
+"I think," said Gemma; "that it would be
+quite useless to wait for the chance of his being
+transferred to Ravenna. We must make the attempt
+at Brisighella, and we have no time to lose.
+Cesare, you and I had better go over the plan of
+the fortress together, and see whether we can
+think out anything. I have an idea in my head,
+but I can't get over one point."
+
+"Come, Marcone," said Michele, rising; "we
+will leave them to think out their scheme. I have
+to go across to Fognano this afternoon, and I
+want you to come with me. Vincenzo hasn't sent
+those cartridges, and they ought to have been
+here yesterday."
+
+When the two men had gone, Martini went up
+to Gemma and silently held out his hand. She let
+her fingers lie in his for a moment.
+
+"You were always a good friend, Cesare," she
+said at last; "and a very present help in trouble.
+And now let us discuss plans."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+"AND I once more most earnestly assure Your
+Eminence that your refusal is endangering the
+peace of the town."
+
+The Governor tried to preserve the respectful
+tone due to a high dignitary of the Church; but
+there was audible irritation in his voice. His liver
+was out of order, his wife was running up heavy
+bills, and his temper had been sorely tried during
+the last three weeks. A sullen, disaffected populace,
+whose dangerous mood grew daily more apparent; a
+district honeycombed with plots and bristling with
+hidden weapons; an inefficient garrison, of whose
+loyalty he was more than doubtful, and a Cardinal
+whom he had pathetically described to his adjutant
+as the "incarnation of immaculate pig-headedness,"
+had already reduced him to the verge of desperation.
+Now he was saddled with the Gadfly, an animated
+quintessence of the spirit of mischief.
+
+Having begun by disabling both the Governor's
+favourite nephew and his most valuable spy, the
+"crooked Spanish devil" had followed up his
+exploits in the market-place by suborning the
+guards, browbeating the interrogating officers,
+and "turning the prison into a bear-garden." He
+had now been three weeks in the fortress, and the
+authorities of Brisighella were heartily sick of their
+bargain. They had subjected him to interrogation
+upon interrogation; and after employing, to
+obtain admissions from him, every device of threat,
+persuasion, and stratagem which their ingenuity
+could suggest, remained just as wise as on the day
+of his capture. They had begun to realize that
+it would perhaps have been better to send him into
+Ravenna at once. It was, however, too late to
+rectify the mistake. The Governor, when sending
+in to the Legate his report of the arrest, had
+begged, as a special favour, permission to superintend
+personally the investigation of this case; and,
+his request having been graciously acceded to, he
+could not now withdraw without a humiliating
+confession that he was overmatched.
+
+The idea of settling the difficulty by a courtmartial
+had, as Gemma and Michele had foreseen,
+presented itself to him as the only satisfactory
+solution; and Cardinal Montanelli's stubborn refusal
+to countenance this was the last drop which
+made the cup of his vexations overflow.
+
+"I think," he said, "that if Your Eminence knew
+what I and my assistants have put up with from
+this man you would feel differently about the matter.
+I fully understand and respect the conscientious
+objection to irregularities in judicial
+proceedings; but this is an exceptional case and
+calls for exceptional measures."
+
+"There is no case," Montanelli answered,
+"which calls for injustice; and to condemn a
+civilian by the judgment of a secret military tribunal
+is both unjust and illegal."
+
+"The case amounts to this, Your Eminence:
+The prisoner is manifestly guilty of several capital
+crimes. He joined the infamous attempt of
+Savigno, and the military commission nominated
+by Monsignor Spinola would certainly have had
+him shot or sent to the galleys then, had he not
+succeeded in escaping to Tuscany. Since that
+time he has never ceased plotting. He is known
+to be an influential member of one of the most
+pestilent secret societies in the country. He is
+gravely suspected of having consented to, if not
+inspired, the assassination of no less than three
+confidential police agents. He has been caught--
+one might almost say--in the act of smuggling
+firearms into the Legation. He has offered armed
+resistance to authority and seriously wounded two
+officials in the discharge of their duty, and he is
+now a standing menace to the peace and order of
+the town. Surely, in such a case, a court-martial
+is justifiable."
+
+"Whatever the man has done," Montanelli replied,
+"he has the right to be judged according to law."
+
+"The ordinary course of law involves delay, Your
+Eminence, and in this case every moment is precious.
+Besides everything else, I am in constant
+terror of his escaping."
+
+"If there is any danger of that, it rests with you
+to guard him more closely."
+
+"I do my best, Your Eminence, but I am
+dependent upon the prison staff, and the man
+seems to have bewitched them all. I have
+changed the guard four times within three weeks;
+I have punished the soldiers till I am tired of it,
+and nothing is of any use. I can't prevent their
+carrying letters backwards and forwards. The
+fools are in love with him as if he were a woman."
+
+"That is very curious. There must be something
+remarkable about him."
+
+"There's a remarkable amount of devilry--I
+beg pardon, Your Eminence, but really this man is
+enough to try the patience of a saint. It's hardly
+credible, but I have to conduct all the interrogations
+myself, for the regular officer cannot stand
+it any longer."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"It's difficult to explain. Your Eminence, but
+you would understand if you had once heard the
+way he goes on. One might think the interrogating
+officer were the criminal and he the judge."
+
+"But what is there so terrible that he can do?
+He can refuse to answer your questions, of course;
+but he has no weapon except silence."
+
+"And a tongue like a razor. We are all mortal,
+Your Eminence, and most of us have made mistakes
+in our time that we don't want published
+on the house-tops. That's only human nature,
+and it's hard on a man to have his little slips of
+twenty years ago raked up and thrown in his teeth----"
+
+"Has Rivarez brought up some personal secret
+of the interrogating officer?"
+
+"Well, really--the poor fellow got into debt
+when he was a cavalry officer, and borrowed a little
+sum from the regimental funds----"
+
+"Stole public money that had been intrusted to
+him, in fact?"
+
+"Of course it was very wrong, Your Eminence;
+but his friends paid it back at once, and the affair
+was hushed up,--he comes of a good family,--and
+ever since then he has been irreproachable. How
+Rivarez found out about it I can't conceive; but
+the first thing he did at interrogation was to bring
+up this old scandal--before the subaltern, too!
+And with as innocent a face as if he were saying
+his prayers! Of course the story's all over the
+Legation by now. If Your Eminence would only
+be present at one of the interrogations, I am sure
+you would realize---- He needn't know anything
+about it. You might overhear him from------"
+
+Montanelli turned round and looked at the Governor
+with an expression which his face did not often wear.
+
+"I am a minister of religion," he said; "not a
+police-spy; and eavesdropping forms no part of
+my professional duties."
+
+"I--I didn't mean to give offence------"
+
+"I think we shall not get any good out of
+discussing this question further. If you will
+send the prisoner here, I will have a talk with
+him."
+
+"I venture very respectfully to advise Your Eminence
+not to attempt it. The man is perfectly
+incorrigible. It would be both safer and wiser to
+overstep the letter of the law for this once, and get
+rid of him before he does any more mischief. It
+is with great diffidence that I venture to press the
+point after what Your Eminence has said; but after
+all I am responsible to Monsignor the Legate for
+the order of the town------"
+
+"And I," Montanelli interrupted, "am responsible
+to God and His Holiness that there shall
+be no underhand dealing in my diocese. Since you
+press me in the matter, colonel, I take my stand
+upon my privilege as Cardinal. I will not allow a
+secret court-martial in this town in peace-time. I
+will receive the prisoner here, and alone, at ten
+to-morrow morning."
+
+"As Your Eminence pleases," the Governor
+replied with sulky respectfulness; and went away,
+grumbling to himself: "They're about a pair, as
+far as obstinacy goes."
+
+He told no one of the approaching interview till
+it was actually time to knock off the prisoner's
+chains and start for the palace. It was quite
+enough, as he remarked to his wounded nephew,
+to have this Most Eminent son of Balaam's ass
+laying down the law, without running any risk of
+the soldiers plotting with Rivarez and his friends
+to effect an escape on the way.
+
+When the Gadfly, strongly guarded, entered the
+room where Montanelli was writing at a table
+covered with papers, a sudden recollection came
+over him, of a hot midsummer afternoon when he
+had sat turning over manuscript sermons in a study
+much like this. The shutters had been closed, as
+they were here, to keep out the heat, and a fruitseller's
+voice outside had called: "Fragola! Fragola!"
+
+He shook the hair angrily back from his eyes
+and set his mouth in a smile.
+
+Montanelli looked up from his papers.
+
+"You can wait in the hall," he said to the
+guards.
+
+"May it please Your Eminence," began the sergeant,
+in a lowered voice and with evident nervousness,
+"the colonel thinks that this prisoner is
+dangerous and that it would be better------"
+
+A sudden flash came into Montanelli's eyes.
+
+"You can wait in the hall," he repeated quietly;
+and the sergeant, saluting and stammering excuses
+with a frightened face, left the room with his men.
+
+"Sit down, please," said the Cardinal, when the
+door was shut. The Gadfly obeyed in silence.
+
+"Signor Rivarez," Montanelli began after a
+pause, "I wish to ask you a few questions, and
+shall be very much obliged to you if you will
+answer them."
+
+The Gadfly smiled. "My ch-ch-chief occupation
+at p-p-present is to be asked questions."
+
+"And--not to answer them? So I have heard;
+but these questions are put by officials who are
+investigating your case and whose duty is to use
+your answers as evidence."
+
+"And th-those of Your Eminence?" There
+was a covert insult in the tone more than in the
+words, and the Cardinal understood it at once; but
+his face did not lose its grave sweetness of
+expression.
+
+"Mine," he said, "whether you answer them
+or not, will remain between you and me. If they
+should trench upon your political secrets, of course
+you will not answer. Otherwise, though we are
+complete strangers to each other, I hope that you
+will do so, as a personal favour to me."
+
+"I am ent-t-tirely at the service of Your Eminence."
+He said it with a little bow, and a face
+that would have taken the heart to ask favours out
+of the daughters of the horse-leech.
+
+"First, then, you are said to have been smuggling
+firearms into this district. What are they
+wanted for?"
+
+"T-t-to k-k-kill rats with."
+
+"That is a terrible answer. Are all your fellow-men
+rats in your eyes if they cannot think as you do?"
+
+"S-s-some of them."
+
+Montanelli leaned back in his chair and looked
+at him in silence for a little while.
+
+"What is that on your hand?" he asked
+suddenly.
+
+The Gadfly glanced at his left hand. "Old
+m-m-marks from the teeth of some of the rats."
+
+"Excuse me; I was speaking of the other
+hand. That is a fresh hurt."
+
+The slender, flexible right hand was badly cut
+and grazed. The Gadfly held it up. The wrist
+was swollen, and across it ran a deep and long
+black bruise.
+
+"It is a m-m-mere trifle, as you see," he said.
+"When I was arrested the other day,--thanks to
+Your Eminence,"--he made another little bow,--
+"one of the soldiers stamped on it."
+
+Montanelli took the wrist and examined it
+closely. "How does it come to be in such a state
+now, after three weeks?" he asked. "It is all
+inflamed."
+
+"Possibly the p-p-pressure of the iron has not
+done it much good."
+
+The Cardinal looked up with a frown.
+
+"Have they been putting irons on a fresh
+wound?"
+
+"N-n-naturally, Your Eminence; that is what
+fresh wounds are for. Old wounds are not much
+use. They will only ache; you c-c-can't make
+them burn properly."
+
+Montanelli looked at him again in the same
+close, scrutinizing way; then rose and opened a
+drawer full of surgical appliances.
+
+"Give me the hand," he said.
+
+The Gadfly, with a face as hard as beaten iron,
+held out the hand, and Montanelli, after bathing
+the injured place, gently bandaged it. Evidently
+he was accustomed to such work.
+
+"I will speak about the irons," he said. "And
+now I want to ask you another question: What do
+you propose to do?"
+
+"Th-th-that is very simply answered, Your Eminence.
+To escape if I can, and if I can't, to die."
+
+"Why 'to die'?"
+
+"Because if the Governor doesn't succeed in
+getting me shot, I shall be sent to the galleys, and
+for me that c-c-comes to the same thing. I have
+not got the health to live through it."
+
+Montanelli rested his arm on the table and
+pondered silently. The Gadfly did not disturb
+him. He was leaning back with half-shut eyes,
+lazily enjoying the delicious physical sensation of
+relief from the chains.
+
+"Supposing," Montanelli began again, "that
+you were to succeed in escaping; what should you
+do with your life?"
+
+"I have already told Your Eminence; I should
+k-k-kill rats."
+
+"You would kill rats. That is to say, that if I
+were to let you escape from here now,--supposing
+I had the power to do so,--you would use your
+freedom to foster violence and bloodshed instead
+of preventing them?"
+
+The Gadfly raised his eyes to the crucifix on the
+wall. "'Not peace, but a sword';--at l-least I
+should be in good company. For my own part,
+though, I prefer pistols."
+
+"Signor Rivarez," said the Cardinal with unruffled
+composure, "I have not insulted you as
+yet, or spoken slightingly of your beliefs or friends.
+May I not expect the same courtesy from you, or
+do you wish me to suppose that an atheist cannot
+be a gentleman?"
+
+"Ah, I q-quite forgot. Your Eminence places
+courtesy high among the Christian virtues. I remember
+your sermon in Florence, on the occasion
+of my c-controversy with your anonymous defender."
+
+"That is one of the subjects about which I
+wished to speak to you. Would you mind
+explaining to me the reason of the peculiar bitterness
+you seem to feel against me? If you have
+simply picked me out as a convenient target, that
+is another matter. Your methods of political controversy
+are your own affair, and we are not discussing politics
+now. But I fancied at the time that there was some
+personal animosity towards me; and if so, I should be
+glad to know whether I have ever done you wrong or in
+any way given you cause for such a feeling."
+
+Ever done him wrong! The Gadfly put up the
+bandaged hand to his throat. "I must refer Your
+Eminence to Shakspere," he said with a little
+laugh. "It's as with the man who can't endure
+a harmless, necessary cat. My antipathy is a
+priest. The sight of the cassock makes my
+t-t-teeth ache."
+
+"Oh, if it is only that----" Montanelli dismissed
+the subject with an indifferent gesture.
+
+"Still," he added, "abuse is one thing and perversion
+of fact is another. When you stated, in
+answer to my sermon, that I knew the identity
+of the anonymous writer, you made a mistake,--I
+do not accuse you of wilful falsehood,--and stated
+what was untrue. I am to this day quite ignorant
+of his name."
+
+The Gadfly put his head on one side, like an
+intelligent robin, looked at him for a moment
+gravely, then suddenly threw himself back and
+burst into a peal of laughter.
+
+"S-s-sancta simplicitas! Oh, you, sweet, innocent,
+Arcadian people--and you never guessed!
+You n-never saw the cloven hoof?"
+
+Montanelli stood up. "Am I to understand,
+Signor Rivarez, that you wrote both sides of the
+controversy yourself?"
+
+"It was a shame, I know," the Gadfly answered,
+looking up with wide, innocent blue eyes. "And
+you s-s-swallowed everything whole; just as if it
+had been an oyster. It was very wrong; but oh,
+it w-w-was so funny!"
+
+Montanelli bit his lip and sat down again. He
+had realized from the first that the Gadfly was trying
+to make him lose his temper, and had resolved
+to keep it whatever happened; but he was beginning
+to find excuses for the Governor's exasperation.
+A man who had been spending two hours
+a day for the last three weeks in interrogating the
+Gadfly might be pardoned an occasional swear-word.
+
+"We will drop that subject," he said quietly.
+"What I wanted to see you for particularly is this:
+My position here as Cardinal gives me some voice,
+if I choose to claim my privilege, in the question
+of what is to be done with you. The only use to
+which I should ever put such a privilege would be
+to interfere in case of any violence to you which
+was not necessary to prevent you from doing violence
+to others. I sent for you, therefore, partly
+in order to ask whether you have anything to
+complain of,--I will see about the irons; but perhaps
+there is something else,--and partly because
+I felt it right, before giving my opinion, to see for
+myself what sort of man you are."
+
+"I have nothing to complain of, Your Eminence.
+'A la guerre comme a la guerre.' I am
+not a schoolboy, to expect any government to pat
+me on the head for s-s-smuggling firearms onto its
+territory. It's only natural that they should hit
+as hard as they can. As for what sort of man I
+am, you have had a romantic confession of my sins
+once. Is not that enough; or w-w-would you like
+me to begin again?"
+
+"I don't understand you," Montanelli said
+coldly, taking up a pencil and twisting it between
+his fingers.
+
+"Surely Your Eminence has not forgotten old Diego,
+the pilgrim?" He suddenly changed his voice and began
+to speak as Diego: "I am a miserable sinner------"
+
+The pencil snapped in Montanelli's hand.
+"That is too much!" he said.
+
+The Gadfly leaned his head back with a soft little
+laugh, and sat watching while the Cardinal
+paced silently up and down the room.
+
+"Signor Rivarez," said Montanelli, stopping at
+last in front of him, "you have done a thing to me
+that a man who was born of a woman should hesitate
+to do to his worst enemy. You have stolen
+in upon my private grief and have made for
+yourself a mock and a jest out of the sorrow of a
+fellow-man. I once more beg you to tell me:
+Have I ever done you wrong? And if not, why
+have you played this heartless trick on me?"
+
+The Gadfly, leaning back against the chair-cushions,
+looked up with his subtle, chilling, inscrutable smile
+
+"It am-m-mused me, Your Eminence; you took
+it all so much to heart, and it rem-m-minded me--
+a little bit--of a variety show----"
+
+Montanelli, white to the very lips, turned away
+and rang the bell.
+
+"You can take back the prisoner," he said when
+the guards came in.
+
+After they had gone he sat down at the table,
+still trembling with unaccustomed indignation,
+and took up a pile of reports which had been sent
+in to him by the parish priests of his diocese.
+
+Presently he pushed them away, and, leaning on
+the table, hid his face in both hands. The Gadfly
+seemed to have left some terrible shadow of himself,
+some ghostly trail of his personality, to haunt
+the room; and Montanelli sat trembling and
+cowering, not daring to look up lest he should see
+the phantom presence that he knew was not there.
+The spectre hardly amounted to a hallucination.
+It was a mere fancy of overwrought nerves; but
+he was seized with an unutterable dread of its
+shadowy presence--of the wounded hand, the
+smiling, cruel mouth, the mysterious eyes, like
+deep sea water----
+
+He shook off the fancy and settled to his work.
+All day long he had scarcely a free moment, and
+the thing did not trouble him; but going into his
+bedroom late at night, he stopped on the threshold
+with a sudden shock of fear. What if he
+should see it in a dream? He recovered himself
+immediately and knelt down before the crucifix
+to pray.
+
+But he lay awake the whole night through.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+MONTANELLI'S anger did not make him neglectful
+of his promise. He protested so emphatically
+against the manner in which the Gadfly had been
+chained that the unfortunate Governor, who by
+now was at his wit's end, knocked off all the fetters
+in the recklessness of despair. "How am I
+to know," he grumbled to the adjutant, "what
+His Eminence will object to next? If he calls a
+simple pair of handcuffs 'cruelty,' he'll be exclaiming
+against the window-bars presently, or wanting
+me to feed Rivarez on oysters and truffles. In my
+young days malefactors were malefactors and
+were treated accordingly, and nobody thought a
+traitor any better than a thief. But it's the fashion
+to be seditious nowadays; and His Eminence
+seems inclined to encourage all the scoundrels in
+the country."
+
+"I don't see what business he has got to interfere
+at all," the adjutant remarked. "He is not
+a Legate and has no authority in civil and military
+affairs. By law------"
+
+"What is the use of talking about law? You
+can't expect anyone to respect laws after the Holy
+Father has opened the prisons and turned the
+whole crew of Liberal scamps loose on us! It's
+a positive infatuation! Of course Monsignor
+Montanelli will give himself airs; he was quiet
+enough under His Holiness the late Pope, but he's
+cock of the walk now. He has jumped into
+favour all at once and can do as he pleases. How
+am I to oppose him? He may have secret authorization
+from the Vatican, for all I know. Everything's
+topsy-turvy now; you can't tell from day
+to day what may happen next. In the good old
+times one knew what to be at, but nowadays------"
+
+The Governor shook his head ruefully. A
+world in which Cardinals troubled themselves over
+trifles of prison discipline and talked about the
+"rights" of political offenders was a world that
+was growing too complex for him.
+
+The Gadfly, for his part, had returned to the fortress
+in a state of nervous excitement bordering
+on hysteria. The meeting with Montanelli had
+strained his endurance almost to breaking-point;
+and his final brutality about the variety show had
+been uttered in sheer desperation, merely to cut
+short an interview which, in another five minutes,
+would have ended in tears.
+
+Called up for interrogation in the afternoon of
+the same day, he did nothing but go into convulsions
+of laughter at every question put to him;
+and when the Governor, worried out of all
+patience, lost his temper and began to swear, he
+only laughed more immoderately than ever. The
+unlucky Governor fumed and stormed and threatened
+his refractory prisoner with impossible punishments;
+but finally came, as James Burton had
+come long ago, to the conclusion that it was mere
+waste of breath and temper to argue with a person
+in so unreasonable a state of mind.
+
+The Gadfly was once more taken back to his cell;
+and there lay down upon the pallet, in the mood
+of black and hopeless depression which always succeeded
+to his boisterous fits. He lay till evening
+without moving, without even thinking; he had
+passed, after the vehement emotion of the morning,
+into a strange, half-apathetic state, in which
+his own misery was hardly more to him than a dull
+and mechanical weight, pressing on some wooden
+thing that had forgotten to be a soul. In truth,
+it was of little consequence how all ended; the one
+thing that mattered to any sentient being was to
+be spared unbearable pain, and whether the relief
+came from altered conditions or from the deadening
+of the power to feel, was a question of no moment.
+Perhaps he would succeed in escaping;
+perhaps they would kill him; in any case he
+should never see the Padre again, and it was all
+vanity and vexation of spirit.
+
+One of the warders brought in supper, and the
+Gadfly looked up with heavy-eyed indifference.
+
+"What time is it?"
+
+"Six o'clock. Your supper, sir."
+
+He looked with disgust at the stale, foul-smelling,
+half-cold mess, and turned his head away.
+He was feeling bodily ill as well as depressed; and
+the sight of the food sickened him.
+
+"You will be ill if you don't eat," said the soldier
+hurriedly. "Take a bit of bread, anyway; it'll do you good."
+
+The man spoke with a curious earnestness of
+tone, lifting a piece of sodden bread from the plate
+and putting it down again. All the conspirator
+awoke in the Gadfly; he had guessed at once that
+there was something hidden in the bread.
+
+"You can leave it; I'll eat a bit by and by," he
+said carelessly. The door was open, and he knew
+that the sergeant on the stairs could hear every
+word spoken between them.
+
+When the door was locked on him again, and
+he had satisfied himself that no one was watching
+at the spy-hole, he took up the piece of bread and
+carefully crumbled it away. In the middle was
+the thing he had expected, a bundle of small files.
+It was wrapped in a bit of paper, on which a few
+words were written. He smoothed the paper out
+carefully and carried it to what little light there
+was. The writing was crowded into so narrow a
+space, and on such thin paper, that it was very
+difficult to read.
+
+
+"The door is unlocked, and there is no moon.
+Get the filing done as fast as possible, and come
+by the passage between two and three. We are
+quite ready and may not have another chance."
+
+
+He crushed the paper feverishly in his hand.
+All the preparations were ready, then, and he had
+only to file the window bars; how lucky it was
+that the chains were off! He need not stop about
+filing them. How many bars were there? Two,
+four; and each must be filed in two places: eight.
+Oh, he could manage that in the course of the
+night if he made haste---- How had Gemma
+and Martini contrived to get everything ready
+so quickly--disguises, passports, hiding-places?
+They must have worked like cart-horses to do
+it---- And it was her plan that had been
+adopted after all. He laughed a little to himself
+at his own foolishness; as if it mattered whether
+the plan was hers or not, once it was a good one!
+And yet he could not help being glad that it was
+she who had struck on the idea of his utilizing the
+subterranean passage, instead of letting himself
+down by a rope-ladder, as the smugglers had at
+first suggested. Hers was the more complex
+and difficult plan, but did not involve, as the other
+did, a risk to the life of the sentinel on duty outside
+the east wall. Therefore, when the two
+schemes had been laid before him, he had unhesitatingly
+chosen Gemma's.
+
+The arrangement was that the friendly guard
+who went by the nickname of "The Cricket"
+should seize the first opportunity of unlocking,
+without the knowledge of his fellows, the iron gate
+leading from the courtyard into the subterranean
+passage underneath the ramparts, and should then
+replace the key on its nail in the guard-room.
+The Gadfly, on receiving information of this, was
+to file through the bars of his window, tear his
+shirt into strips and plait them into a rope, by
+means of which he could let himself down on to
+the broad east wall of the courtyard. Along this
+wall he was to creep on hands and knees while the
+sentinel was looking in the opposite direction, lying
+flat upon the masonry whenever the man turned
+towards him. At the southeast corner was a half-ruined
+turret. It was upheld, to some extent, by
+a thick growth of ivy; but great masses of crumbling
+stone had fallen inward and lay in the courtyard,
+heaped against the wall. From this turret
+he was to climb down by the ivy and the heaps of
+stone into the courtyard; and, softly opening the
+unlocked gate, to make his way along the passage
+to a subterranean tunnel communicating with it.
+Centuries ago this tunnel had formed a secret corridor
+between the fortress and a tower on the
+neighbouring hill; now it was quite disused and
+blocked in many places by the falling in of the
+rocks. No one but the smugglers knew of a certain
+carefully-hidden hole in the mountain-side
+which they had bored through to the tunnel; no
+one suspected that stores of forbidden merchandise
+were often kept, for weeks together, under
+the very ramparts of the fortress itself, while the
+customs-officers were vainly searching the houses
+of the sullen, wrathful-eyed mountaineers. At
+this hole the Gadfly was to creep out on to the
+hillside, and make his way in the dark to a lonely
+spot where Martini and a smuggler would be
+waiting for him. The one great difficulty was
+that opportunities to unlock the gate after the
+evening patrol did not occur every night, and the
+descent from the window could not be made in
+very clear weather without too great a risk of
+being observed by the sentinel. Now that there
+was really a fair chance of success, it must not be
+missed.
+
+He sat down and began to eat some of the
+bread. It at least did not disgust him like the
+rest of the prison food, and he must eat something
+to keep up his strength.
+
+He had better lie down a bit, too, and try to
+get a little sleep; it would not be safe to begin
+filing before ten o'clock, and he would have a hard
+night's work.
+
+And so, after all, the Padre had been thinking
+of letting him escape! That was like the Padre.
+But he, for his part, would never consent to it.
+Anything rather than that! If he escaped, it
+should be his own doing and that of his comrades;
+he would have no favours from priests.
+
+How hot it was! Surely it must be going to
+thunder; the air was so close and oppressive. He
+moved restlessly on the pallet and put the bandaged
+right hand behind his head for a pillow;
+then drew it away again. How it burned and
+throbbed! And all the old wounds were beginning
+to ache, with a dull, faint persistence. What
+was the matter with them? Oh, absurd! It was
+only the thundery weather. He would go to
+sleep and get a little rest before beginning his
+filing.
+
+Eight bars, and all so thick and strong! How
+many more were there left to file? Surely not
+many. He must have been filing for hours,--
+interminable hours--yes, of course, that was what
+made his arm ache---- And how it ached; right
+through to the very bone! But it could hardly be
+the filing that made his side ache so; and the
+throbbing, burning pain in the lame leg--was
+that from filing?
+
+He started up. No, he had not been asleep; he
+had been dreaming with open eyes--dreaming of
+filing, and it was all still to do. There stood the
+window-bars, untouched, strong and firm as ever.
+And there was ten striking from the clock-tower
+in the distance. He must get to work.
+
+He looked through the spy-hole, and, seeing
+that no one was watching, took one of the files
+from his breast.
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+No, there was nothing the matter with him--
+nothing! It was all imagination. The pain in
+his side was indigestion, or a chill, or some such
+thing; not much wonder, after three weeks of
+this insufferable prison food and air. As for the
+aching and throbbing all over, it was partly nervous
+trouble and partly want of exercise. Yes,
+that was it, no doubt; want of exercise. How
+absurd not to have thought of that before!
+
+He would sit down a little bit, though, and let
+it pass before he got to work. It would be sure
+to go over in a minute or two.
+
+To sit still was worse than all. When he sat
+still he was at its mercy, and his face grew gray
+with fear. No, he must get up and set to work,
+and shake it off. It should depend upon his will
+to feel or not to feel; and he would not feel, he
+would force it back.
+
+He stood up again and spoke to himself, aloud
+and distinctly:
+
+"I am not ill; I have no time to be ill. I have
+those bars to file, and I am not going to be ill."
+
+Then he began to file.
+
+A quarter-past ten--half-past ten--a quarter to
+eleven---- He filed and filed, and every grating
+scrape of the iron was as though someone were filing
+on his body and brain. "I wonder which will
+be filed through first," he said to himself with a
+little laugh; "I or the bars?" And he set his
+teeth and went on filing.
+
+Half-past eleven. He was still filing, though
+the hand was stiff and swollen and would hardly
+grasp the tool. No, he dared not stop to rest;
+if he once put the horrible thing down he should
+never have the courage to begin again.
+
+The sentinel moved outside the door, and the
+butt end of his carbine scratched against the lintel.
+The Gadfly stopped and looked round, the file still
+in his lifted hand. Was he discovered?
+
+A little round pellet had been shot through the
+spy-hole and was lying on the floor. He laid down
+the file and stooped to pick up the round thing.
+It was a bit of rolled paper.
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+It was a long way to go down and down, with
+the black waves rushing about him--how they
+roared----!
+
+Ah, yes! He was only stooping down to pick
+up the paper. He was a bit giddy; many people
+are when they stoop. There was nothing the
+matter with him--nothing.
+
+He picked it up, carried it to the light, and
+unfolded it steadily.
+
+
+"Come to-night, whatever happens; the Cricket
+will be transferred to-morrow to another service.
+This is our only chance."
+
+
+He destroyed the paper as he had done the
+former one, picked up his file again, and went
+back to work, dogged and mute and desperate.
+
+One o'clock. He had been working for three
+hours now, and six of the eight bars were filed.
+Two more, and then, to climb------
+
+He began to recall the former occasions when
+these terrible attacks had come on. The last had
+been the one at New Year; and he shuddered as
+he remembered those five nights. But that time
+it had not come on so suddenly; he had never
+known it so sudden.
+
+He dropped the file and flung out both hands
+blindly, praying, in his utter desperation, for the
+first time since he had been an atheist; praying
+to anything--to nothing--to everything.
+
+"Not to-night! Oh, let me be ill to-morrow!
+I will bear anything to-morrow--only not to-night!"
+
+He stood still for a moment, with both hands
+up to his temples; then he took up the file once
+more, and once more went back to his work.
+
+Half-past one. He had begun on the last bar.
+His shirt-sleeve was bitten to rags; there was
+blood on his lips and a red mist before his eyes,
+and the sweat poured from his forehead as he filed,
+and filed, and filed----
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+After sunrise Montanelli fell asleep. He was
+utterly worn out with the restless misery of the
+night and slept for a little while quietly; then he
+began to dream.
+
+At first he dreamed vaguely, confusedly; broken
+fragments of images and fancies followed each
+other, fleeting and incoherent, but all filled with
+the same dim sense of struggle and pain, the same
+shadow of indefinable dread. Presently he began
+to dream of sleeplessness; the old, frightful, familiar
+dream that had been a terror to him for
+years. And even as he dreamed he recognized
+that he had been through it all before.
+
+He was wandering about in a great empty place,
+trying to find some quiet spot where he could lie
+down and sleep. Everywhere there were people,
+walking up and down; talking, laughing, shouting;
+praying, ringing bells, and clashing metal instruments
+together. Sometimes he would get away
+to a little distance from the noise, and would lie
+down, now on the grass, now on a wooden bench,
+now on some slab of stone. He would shut his
+eyes and cover them with both hands to keep out
+the light; and would say to himself: "Now I
+will get to sleep." Then the crowds would come
+sweeping up to him, shouting, yelling, calling him
+by name, begging him: "Wake up! Wake up,
+quick; we want you!"
+
+Again: he was in a great palace, full of gorgeous
+rooms, with beds and couches and low soft
+lounges. It was night, and he said to himself:
+"Here, at last, I shall find a quiet place to sleep."
+But when he chose a dark room and lay down,
+someone came in with a lamp, flashing the merciless
+light into his eyes, and said: "Get up; you are wanted."
+
+He rose and wandered on, staggering and stumbling
+like a creature wounded to death; and heard
+the clocks strike one, and knew that half the night
+was gone already--the precious night that was so
+short. Two, three, four, five--by six o'clock the
+whole town would wake up and there would be
+no more silence.
+
+He went into another room and would have lain
+down on a bed, but someone started up from the
+pillows, crying out: "This bed is mine!" and he
+shrank away with despair in his heart.
+
+Hour after hour struck, and still he wandered
+on and on, from room to room, from house to
+house, from corridor to corridor. The horrible
+gray dawn was creeping near and nearer; the
+clocks were striking five; the night was gone and
+he had found no rest. Oh, misery! Another day
+--another day!
+
+He was in a long, subterranean corridor, a low,
+vaulted passage that seemed to have no end. It
+was lighted with glaring lamps and chandeliers;
+and through its grated roof came the sounds of
+dancing and laughter and merry music. Up there,
+in the world of the live people overhead, there
+was some festival, no doubt. Oh, for a place
+to hide and sleep; some little place, were it even
+a grave! And as he spoke he stumbled over an
+open grave. An open grave, smelling of death
+and rottenness---- Ah, what matter, so he could
+but sleep!
+
+"This grave is mine!" It was Gladys; and she
+raised her head and stared at him over the rotting
+shroud. Then he knelt down and stretched out
+his arms to her.
+
+"Gladys! Gladys! Have a little pity on me;
+let me creep into this narrow space and sleep. I
+do not ask you for your love; I will not touch you,
+will not speak to you; only let me lie down beside
+you and sleep! Oh, love, it is so long since I have
+slept! I cannot bear another day. The light
+glares in upon my soul; the noise is beating my
+brain to dust. Gladys, let me come in here and
+sleep!"
+
+And he would have drawn her shroud across his
+eyes. But she shrank away, screaming:
+
+"It is sacrilege; you are a priest!"
+
+On and on he wandered, and came out upon the
+sea-shore, on the barren rocks where the fierce
+light struck down, and the water moaned its low,
+perpetual wail of unrest. "Ah!" he said; "the
+sea will be more merciful; it, too, is wearied unto
+death and cannot sleep."
+
+Then Arthur rose up from the deep, and cried
+aloud:
+
+"This sea is mine!"
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+"Your Eminence! Your Eminence!"
+
+Montanelli awoke with a start. His servant
+was knocking at the door. He rose mechanically
+and opened it, and the man saw how wild and
+scared he looked.
+
+"Your Eminence--are you ill?"
+
+He drew both hands across his forehead.
+
+"No; I was asleep, and you startled me."
+
+"I am very sorry; I thought I had heard you
+moving early this morning, and I supposed------"
+
+"Is it late now?"
+
+"It is nine o'clock, and the Governor has called.
+He says he has very important business, and knowing
+Your Eminence to be an early riser------"
+
+"Is he downstairs? I will come presently."
+
+He dressed and went downstairs.
+
+"I am afraid this is an unceremonious way to
+call upon Your Eminence," the Governor began.
+
+"I hope there is nothing the matter?"
+
+"There is very much the matter. Rivarez has
+all but succeeded in escaping."
+
+"Well, so long as he has not quite succeeded
+there is no harm done. How was it?"
+
+"He was found in the courtyard, right against
+the little iron gate. When the patrol came in to
+inspect the courtyard at three o'clock this morning
+one of the men stumbled over something on
+the ground; and when they brought the light up
+they found Rivarez lying across the path unconscious.
+They raised an alarm at once and called
+me up; and when I went to examine his cell I
+found all the window-bars filed through and a rope
+made of torn body-linen hanging from one of
+them. He had let himself down and climbed along
+the wall. The iron gate, which leads into the
+subterranean tunnels, was found to be unlocked.
+That looks as if the guards had been suborned."
+
+"But how did he come to be lying across the
+path? Did he fall from the rampart and hurt
+himself?"
+
+"That is what I thought at first. Your Eminence;
+but the prison surgeon can't find any trace
+of a fall. The soldier who was on duty yesterday
+says that Rivarez looked very ill last night when
+he brought in the supper, and did not eat anything.
+But that must be nonsense; a sick man couldn't
+file those bars through and climb along that roof.
+It's not in reason."
+
+"Does he give any account of himself?"
+
+"He is unconscious, Your Eminence."
+
+"Still?"
+
+"He just half comes to himself from time to
+time and moans, and then goes off again."
+
+"That is very strange. What does the doctor
+think?"
+
+"He doesn't know what to think. There is no
+trace of heart-disease that he can find to account
+for the thing; but whatever is the matter with
+him, it is something that must have come on
+suddenly, just when he had nearly managed to
+escape. For my part, I believe he was struck
+down by the direct intervention of a merciful
+Providence."
+
+Montanelli frowned slightly.
+
+"What are you going to do with him?" he
+asked.
+
+"That is a question I shall settle in a very few
+days. In the meantime I have had a good lesson.
+That is what comes of taking off the irons--with
+all due respect to Your Eminence."
+
+"I hope," Montanelli interrupted, "that you
+will at least not replace the fetters while he is ill.
+A man in the condition you describe can hardly
+make any more attempts to escape."
+
+"I shall take good care he doesn't," the Governor
+muttered to himself as he went out. "His
+Eminence can go hang with his sentimental scruples
+for all I care. Rivarez is chained pretty tight
+now, and is going to stop so, ill or not."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+"But how can it have happened? To faint
+away at the last moment, when everything was
+ready; when he was at the very gate! It's like
+some hideous joke."
+
+"I tell you," Martini answered, "the only thing
+I can think of is that one of these attacks must
+have come on, and that he must have struggled
+against it as long as his strength lasted and have
+fainted from sheer exhaustion when he got down
+into the courtyard."
+
+Marcone knocked the ashes savagely from his
+pipe.
+
+"Well. anyhow, that's the end of it; we can't
+do anything for him now, poor fellow."
+
+"Poor fellow!" Martini echoed, under his
+breath. He was beginning to realise that to him,
+too, the world would look empty and dismal without
+the Gadfly.
+
+"What does she think?" the smuggler asked,
+glancing towards the other end of the room, where
+Gemma sat alone, her hands lying idly in her lap,
+her eyes looking straight before her into blank
+nothingness.
+
+"I have not asked her; she has not spoken since
+I brought her the news. We had best not disturb
+her just yet."
+
+She did not appear to be conscious of their presence,
+but they both spoke with lowered voices, as though
+they were looking at a corpse. After a dreary little
+pause, Marcone rose and put away his pipe.
+
+"I will come back this evening," he said; but
+Martini stopped him with a gesture.
+
+"Don't go yet; I want to speak to you." He
+dropped his voice still lower and continued in
+almost a whisper:
+
+"Do you believe there is really no hope?"
+
+"I don't see what hope there can be now. We
+can't attempt it again. Even if he were well
+enough to manage his part of the thing, we
+couldn't do our share. The sentinels are all being
+changed, on suspicion. The Cricket won't get
+another chance, you may be sure."
+
+"Don't you think," Martini asked suddenly;
+"that, when he recovers, something might be
+done by calling off the sentinels?"
+
+"Calling off the sentinels? What do you
+mean?"
+
+"Well, it has occurred to me that if I were to
+get in the Governor's way when the procession
+passes close by the fortress on Corpus Domini day
+and fire in his face, all the sentinels would come
+rushing to get hold of me, and some of you fellows
+could perhaps help Rivarez out in the confusion.
+It really hardly amounts to a plan; it only came
+into my head."
+
+"I doubt whether it could be managed," Marcone
+answered with a very grave face. "Certainly it
+would want a lot of thinking out for
+anything to come of it. But"--he stopped and
+looked at Martini--"if it should be possible--
+would you do it?"
+
+Martini was a reserved man at ordinary times;
+but this was not an ordinary time. He looked
+straight into the smuggler's face.
+
+"Would I do it?" he repeated. "Look at her!"
+
+There was no need for further explanations;
+in saying that he had said all. Marcone turned
+and looked across the room.
+
+She had not moved since their conversation
+began. There was no doubt, no fear, even no
+grief in her face; there was nothing in it but the
+shadow of death. The smuggler's eyes filled with
+tears as he looked at her.
+
+"Make haste, Michele!" he said, throwing open
+the verandah door and looking out. "Aren't you
+nearly done, you two? There are a hundred and
+fifty things to do!"
+
+Michele, followed by Gino, came in from the
+verandah.
+
+"I am ready now," he said. "I only want to
+ask the signora----"
+
+He was moving towards her when Martini
+caught him by the arm.
+
+"Don't disturb her; she's better alone."
+
+"Let her be!" Marcone added. "We shan't do
+any good by meddling. God knows, it's hard enough
+on all of us; but it's worse for her, poor soul!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+FOR a week the Gadfly lay in a fearful state.
+The attack was a violent one, and the Governor,
+rendered brutal by fear and perplexity, had not
+only chained him hand and foot, but had insisted
+on his being bound to his pallet with leather
+straps, drawn so tight that he could not move
+without their cutting into the flesh. He endured
+everything with his dogged, bitter stoicism till the
+end of the sixth day. Then his pride broke down,
+and he piteously entreated the prison doctor for a
+dose of opium. The doctor was quite willing to
+give it; but the Governor, hearing of the request,
+sharply forbade "any such foolery."
+
+"How do you know what he wants it for?" he
+said. "It's just as likely as not that he's shamming
+all the time and wants to drug the sentinel,
+or some such devilry. Rivarez is cunning enough
+for anything."
+
+"My giving him a dose would hardly help him
+to drug the sentinel," replied the doctor, unable
+to suppress a smile. "And as for shamming--
+there's not much fear of that. He is as likely as
+not to die."
+
+"Anyway, I won't have it given. If a man
+wants to be tenderly treated, he should behave
+accordingly. He has thoroughly deserved a little
+sharp discipline. Perhaps it will be a lesson to
+him not to play tricks with the window-bars again."
+
+"The law does not admit of torture, though,"
+the doctor ventured to say; "and this is coming
+perilously near it."
+
+"The law says nothing about opium, I think,"
+said the Governor snappishly.
+
+"It is for you to decide, of course, colonel; but
+I hope you will let the straps be taken off at
+any rate. They are a needless aggravation of
+his misery. There's no fear of his escaping now.
+He couldn't stand if you let him go free."
+
+"My good sir, a doctor may make a mistake
+like other people, I suppose. I have got him safe
+strapped now, and he's going to stop so."
+
+"At least, then, have the straps a little loosened.
+It is downright barbarity to keep them drawn so tight."
+
+"They will stop exactly as they are; and I will
+thank you, sir, not to talk about barbarity to me.
+If I do a thing, I have a reason for it."
+
+So the seventh night passed without any relief,
+and the soldier stationed on guard at the cell door
+crossed himself, shuddering, over and over again,
+as he listened all night long to heart-rending
+moans. The Gadfly's endurance was failing him
+at last.
+
+At six in the morning the sentinel, just before
+going off duty, unlocked the door softly and entered
+the cell. He knew that he was committing
+a serious breach of discipline, but could not bear
+to go away without offering the consolation of
+a friendly word.
+
+He found the Gadfly lying still, with closed eyes
+and parted lips. He stood silent for a moment;
+then stooped down and asked:
+
+"Can I do anything for you, sir? I have only
+a minute."
+
+The Gadfly opened his eyes. "Let me alone!"
+he moaned. "Let me alone----"
+
+He was asleep almost before the soldier had
+slipped back to his post.
+
+Ten days afterwards the Governor called again
+at the palace, but found that the Cardinal had
+gone to visit a sick man at Pieve d'Ottavo, and
+was not expected home till the afternoon. That
+evening, just as he was sitting down to dinner, his
+servant came in to announce:
+
+"His Eminence would like to speak to you."
+
+The Governor, with a hasty glance into the
+looking glass, to make sure that his uniform was
+in order, put on his most dignified air, and
+went into the reception room, where Montanelli
+was sitting, beating his hand gently on the arm
+of the chair and looking out of the window with
+an anxious line between his brows.
+
+"I heard that you called to-day," he said, cutting
+short the Governor's polite speeches with
+a slightly imperious manner which he never
+adopted in speaking to the country folk. "It was
+probably on the business about which I have been
+wishing to speak to you."
+
+"It was about Rivarez, Your Eminence."
+
+"So I supposed. I have been thinking the matter
+over these last few days. But before we go
+into that, I should like to hear whether you have
+anything new to tell me."
+
+The Governor pulled his moustaches with an
+embarrassed air.
+
+"The fact is, I came to know whether Your
+Eminence had anything to tell me. If you still
+have an objection to the course I proposed taking,
+I should be sincerely glad of your advice in
+the matter; for, honestly, I don't know what
+to do."
+
+"Is there any new difficulty?"
+
+"Only that next Thursday is the 3d of June,
+--Corpus Domini,--and somehow or other the
+matter must be settled before then."
+
+"Thursday is Corpus Domini, certainly; but
+why must it be settled especially before then?"
+
+"I am exceedingly sorry, Your Eminence, if I
+seem to oppose you, but I can't undertake to be
+responsible for the peace of the town if Rivarez is
+not got rid of before then. All the roughest set
+in the hills collects here for that day, as Your Eminence
+knows, and it is more than probable that
+they may attempt to break open the fortress gates
+and take him out. They won't succeed; I'll
+take care of that, if I have to sweep them from the
+gates with powder and shot. But we are very
+likely to have something of that kind before the
+day is over. Here in the Romagna there is bad
+blood in the people, and when once they get out
+their knives----"
+
+"I think with a little care we can prevent matters
+going as far as knives. I have always found
+the people of this district easy to get on with, if
+they are reasonably treated. Of course, if you
+once begin to threaten or coerce a Romagnol he
+becomes unmanageable. But have you any reason for
+supposing a new rescue scheme is intended?"
+
+"I heard, both this morning and yesterday,
+from confidential agents of mine, that a great
+many rumours are circulating all over the district
+and that the people are evidently up to some mischief
+or other. But one can't find out the details;
+if one could it would be easier to take precautions.
+And for my part, after the fright we had
+the other day, I prefer to be on the safe side.
+With such a cunning fox as Rivarez one can't be
+too careful."
+
+"The last I heard about Rivarez was that he was
+too ill to move or speak. Is he recovering, then?"
+
+"He seems much better now, Your Eminence.
+He certainly has been very ill--unless he was
+shamming all the time."
+
+"Have you any reason for supposing that
+likely?"
+
+"Well, the doctor seems convinced that it was
+all genuine; but it's a very mysterious kind of illness.
+Any way, he is recovering, and more intractable than ever."
+
+"What has he done now?"
+
+"There's not much he can do, fortunately,"
+the Governor answered, smiling as he remembered
+the straps. "But his behaviour is something indescribable.
+Yesterday morning I went into the
+cell to ask him a few questions; he is not well
+enough yet to come to me for interrogation--and
+indeed, I thought it best not to run any risk of
+the people seeing him until he recovers. Such
+absurd stories always get about at once."
+
+"So you went there to interrogate him?"
+
+"Yes, Your Eminence. I hoped he would be
+more amenable to reason now."
+
+Montanelli looked him over deliberately, almost
+as if he had been inspecting a new and disagreeable
+animal. Fortunately, however, the Governor
+was fingering his sword-belt, and did not see the
+look. He went on placidly:
+
+"I have not subjected him to any particular
+severities, but I have been obliged to be rather
+strict with him--especially as it is a military
+prison--and I thought that perhaps a little indulgence
+might have a good effect. I offered to
+relax the discipline considerably if he would behave
+in a reasonable manner; and how does Your
+Eminence suppose he answered me? He lay looking
+at me a minute, like a wolf in a cage, and then
+said quite softly: 'Colonel, I can't get up and
+strangle you; but my teeth are pretty good; you
+had better take your throat a little further off.'
+He is as savage as a wild-cat."
+
+"I am not surprised to hear it," Montanelli
+answered quietly. "But I came to ask you a
+question. Do you honestly believe that the presence
+of Rivarez in the prison here constitutes a
+serious danger to the peace of the district?"
+
+"Most certainly I do, Your Eminence."
+
+"You think that, to prevent the risk of bloodshed,
+it is absolutely necessary that he should
+somehow be got rid of before Corpus Domini?"
+
+"I can only repeat that if he is here on Thursday,
+I do not expect the festival to pass over without
+a fight, and I think it likely to be a serious one."
+
+"And you think that if he were not here there
+would be no such danger?"
+
+"In that case, there would either be no disturbance
+at all, or at most a little shouting and stone-throwing.
+If Your Eminence can find some way
+of getting rid of him, I will undertake that the
+peace shall be kept. Otherwise, I expect most
+serious trouble. I am convinced that a new rescue
+plot is on hand, and Thursday is the day when we
+may expect the attempt. Now, if on that very
+morning they suddenly find that he is not in the
+fortress at all, their plan fails of itself, and they
+have no occasion to begin fighting. But if we
+have to repulse them, and the daggers once get
+drawn among such throngs of people, we are
+likely to have the place burnt down before nightfall."
+
+"Then why do you not send him in to Ravenna?"
+
+"Heaven knows, Your Eminence, I should be
+thankful to do it! But how am I to prevent the
+people rescuing him on the way? I have not soldiers
+enough to resist an armed attack; and all
+these mountaineers have got knives or flint-locks
+or some such thing."
+
+"You still persist, then, in wishing for a court-martial,
+and in asking my consent to it?"
+
+"Pardon me, Your Eminence; I ask you only
+one thing--to help me prevent riots and bloodshed.
+I am quite willing to admit that the military
+commissions, such as that of Colonel Freddi,
+were sometimes unnecessarily severe, and irritated
+instead of subduing the people; but I think that
+in this case a court-martial would be a wise measure
+and in the long run a merciful one. It would
+prevent a riot, which in itself would be a terrible
+disaster, and which very likely might cause a return
+of the military commissions His Holiness has abolished."
+
+The Governor finished his little speech with
+much solemnity, and waited for the Cardinal's
+answer. It was a long time coming; and when
+it came was startlingly unexpected.
+
+"Colonel Ferrari, do you believe in God?"
+
+"Your Eminence!" the colonel gasped in a
+voice full of exclamation-stops.
+
+"Do you believe in God?" Montanelli repeated,
+rising and looking down at him with steady,
+searching eyes. The colonel rose too.
+
+"Your Eminence, I am a Christian man, and
+have never yet been refused absolution."
+
+Montanelli lifted the cross from his breast.
+
+"Then swear on the cross of the Redeemer Who
+died for you, that you have been speaking the
+truth to me."
+
+The colonel stood still and gazed at it blankly.
+He could not quite make up his mind which was
+mad, he or the Cardinal.
+
+"You have asked me," Montanelli went on,
+"to give my consent to a man's death. Kiss the
+cross, if you dare, and tell me that you believe
+there is no other way to prevent greater bloodshed.
+And remember that if you tell me a lie you
+are imperilling your immortal soul."
+
+After a little pause, the Governor bent down
+and put the cross to his lips.
+
+"I believe it," he said.
+
+Montanelli turned slowly away.
+
+"I will give you a definite answer to-morrow.
+But first I must see Rivarez and speak to him
+alone."
+
+"Your Eminence--if I might suggest--I am
+sure you will regret it. For that matter, he sent
+me a message yesterday, by the guard, asking to
+see Your Eminence; but I took no notice of it,
+because----"
+
+"Took no notice!" Montanelli repeated. "A
+man in such circumstances sent you a message,
+and you took no notice of it?"
+
+"I am sorry if Your Eminence is displeased. I
+did not wish to trouble you over a mere impertinence
+like that; I know Rivarez well enough by
+now to feel sure that he only wanted to insult
+you. And, indeed, if you will allow me to say so,
+it would be most imprudent to go near him alone;
+he is really dangerous--so much so, in fact, that
+I have thought it necessary to use some physical
+restraint of a mild kind------"
+
+"And you really think there is much danger to
+be apprehended from one sick and unarmed man,
+who is under physical restraint of a mild kind?"
+Montanelli spoke quite gently, but the colonel felt
+the sting of his quiet contempt, and flushed under
+it resentfully.
+
+"Your Eminence will do as you think best," he
+said in his stiffest manner. "I only wished to
+spare you the pain of hearing this man's awful
+blasphemies."
+
+"Which do you think the more grievous misfortune
+for a Christian man; to hear a blasphemous
+word uttered, or to abandon a fellow-creature in
+extremity?"
+
+The Governor stood erect and stiff, with his official
+face, like a face of wood. He was deeply
+offended at Montanelli's treatment of him, and
+showed it by unusual ceremoniousness.
+
+"At what time does Your Eminence wish to
+visit the prisoner?" he asked.
+
+"I will go to him at once."
+
+"As Your Eminence pleases. If you will kindly wait a
+few moments, I will send someone to prepare him."
+
+The Governor had come down from his official
+pedestal in a great hurry. He did not want Montanelli
+to see the straps.
+
+"Thank you; I would rather see him as he is,
+without preparation. I will go straight up to the
+fortress. Good-evening, colonel; you may expect
+my answer to-morrow morning."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+HEARING the cell-door unlocked, the Gadfly
+turned away his eyes with languid indifference.
+He supposed that it was only the Governor, coming
+to worry him with another interrogation.
+Several soldiers mounted the narrow stair, their
+carbines clanking against the wall; then a deferential
+voice said: "It is rather steep here, Your Eminence."
+
+He started convulsively, and then shrank down,
+catching his breath under the stinging pressure of
+the straps.
+
+Montanelli came in with the sergeant and three
+guards.
+
+"If Your Eminence will kindly wait a moment,"
+the sergeant began nervously, "one of my men
+will bring a chair. He has just gone to fetch it.
+Your Eminence will excuse us--if we had been expecting
+you, we should have been prepared."
+
+"There is no need for any preparation. Will
+you kindly leave us alone, sergeant; and wait at
+the foot of the stairs with your men?"
+
+"Yes, Your Eminence. Here is the chair; shall
+I put it beside him?"
+
+The Gadfly was lying with closed eyes; but he
+felt that Montanelli was looking at him.
+
+"I think he is asleep, Your Eminence," the sergeant
+was beginning, but the Gadfly opened his eyes.
+
+"No," he said.
+
+As the soldiers were leaving the cell they were
+stopped by a sudden exclamation from Montanelli;
+and, turning back, saw that he was bending
+down to examine the straps.
+
+"Who has been doing this?" he asked. The
+sergeant fumbled with his cap.
+
+"It was by the Governor's express orders, Your
+Eminence."
+
+"I had no idea of this, Signer Rivarez," Montanelli
+said in a voice of great distress.
+
+"I told Your Eminence," the Gadfly answered,
+with his hard smile, "that I n-n-never expected to
+be patted on the head."
+
+"Sergeant, how long has this been going on?"
+
+"Since he tried to escape, Your Eminence."
+
+"That is, nearly a week? Bring a knife and cut
+these off at once."
+
+"May it please Your Eminence, the doctor
+wanted to take them off, but Colonel Ferrari
+wouldn't allow it."
+
+"Bring a knife at once." Montanelli had not
+raised his voice, but the soldiers could see that he
+was white with anger. The sergeant took a clasp-knife
+from his pocket, and bent down to cut the
+arm-strap. He was not a skilful-fingered man;
+and he jerked the strap tighter with an awkward
+movement, so that the Gadfly winced and bit his
+lip in spite of all his self-control. Montanelli came
+forward at once.
+
+"You don't know how to do it; give me the
+knife."
+
+"Ah-h-h!" The Gadfly stretched out his arms
+with a long, rapturous sigh as the strap fell off.
+The next instant Montanelli had cut the other
+one, which bound his ankles.
+
+"Take off the irons, too, sergeant; and then
+come here. I want to speak to you."
+
+He stood by the window, looking on, till the
+sergeant threw down the fetters and approached him.
+
+"Now," he said, "tell me everything that has
+been happening."
+
+The sergeant, nothing loath, related all that he
+knew of the Gadfly's illness, of the "disciplinary
+measures," and of the doctor's unsuccessful attempt
+to interfere.
+
+"But I think, Your Eminence," he added,
+"that the colonel wanted the straps kept on as a
+means of getting evidence."
+
+"Evidence?"
+
+"Yes, Your Eminence; the day before yesterday
+I heard him offer to have them taken off if
+he"--with a glance at the Gadfly--"would answer
+a question he had asked."
+
+Montanelli clenched his hand on the window-sill,
+and the soldiers glanced at one another: they
+had never seen the gentle Cardinal angry before.
+As for the Gadfly, he had forgotten their existence;
+he had forgotten everything except the
+physical sensation of freedom. He was cramped
+in every limb; and now stretched, and turned, and
+twisted about in a positive ecstasy of relief.
+
+"You can go now, sergeant," the Cardinal said.
+"You need not feel anxious about having committed
+a breach of discipline; it was your duty to
+tell me when I asked you. See that no one disturbs
+us. I will come out when I am ready."
+
+When the door had closed behind the soldiers,
+he leaned on the window-sill and looked for a while
+at the sinking sun, so as to leave the Gadfly a little
+more breathing time.
+
+"I have heard," he said presently, leaving the
+window, and sitting down beside the pallet, "that
+you wish to speak to me alone. If you feel well
+enough to tell me what you wanted to say, I am
+at your service."
+
+He spoke very coldly, with a stiff, imperious
+manner that was not natural to him. Until the
+straps were off, the Gadfly was to him simply a
+grievously wronged and tortured human being;
+but now he recalled their last interview, and the
+deadly insult with which it had closed. The Gadfly
+looked up, resting his head lazily on one arm.
+He possessed the gift of slipping into graceful attitudes;
+and when his face was in shadow no one
+would have guessed through what deep waters he
+had been passing. But, as he looked up, the clear
+evening light showed how haggard and colourless
+he was, and how plainly the trace of the last few
+days was stamped on him. Montanelli's anger
+died away.
+
+"I am afraid you have been terribly ill," he said.
+"I am sincerely sorry that I did not know of all
+this. I would have put a stop to it before."
+
+The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. "All's fair
+in war," he said coolly. "Your Eminence objects
+to straps theoretically, from the Christian standpoint;
+but it is hardly fair to expect the colonel
+to see that. He, no doubt, would prefer not to
+try them on his own skin--which is j-j-just my
+case. But that is a matter of p-p-personal convenience.
+At this moment I am undermost--
+w-w-what would you have? It is very kind of
+Your Eminence, though, to call here; but perhaps
+that was done from the C-c-christian standpoint,
+too. Visiting prisoners--ah, yes! I forgot.
+'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the l-least of
+these'--it's not very complimentary, but one of
+the least is duly grateful."
+
+"Signor Rivarez," the Cardinal interrupted, "I
+have come here on your account--not on my own.
+If you had not been 'undermost,' as you call it, I
+should never have spoken to you again after what
+you said to me last week; but you have the double
+privilege of a prisoner and a sick man, and I could
+not refuse to come. Have you anything to say
+to me, now I am here; or have you sent for me
+merely to amuse yourself by insulting an old man?"
+
+There was no answer. The Gadfly had turned.
+away, and was lying with one hand across his eyes.
+
+"I am--very sorry to trouble you," he said at
+last, huskily; "but could I have a little water?"
+
+There was a jug of water standing by the window,
+and Montanelli rose and fetched it. As he
+slipped his arm round the Gadfly to lift him, he
+suddenly felt the damp, cold fingers close over
+his wrist like a vice.
+
+"Give me your hand--quick--just a moment,"
+the Gadfly whispered. "Oh, what difference does
+it make to you? Only one minute!"
+
+He sank down, hiding his face on Montanelli's
+arm, and quivering from head to foot.
+
+"Drink a little water," Montanelli said after a
+moment. The Gadfly obeyed silently; then lay
+back on the pallet with closed eyes. He himself
+could have given no explanation of what had happened
+to him when Montanelli's hand had touched
+his cheek; he only knew that in all his life there
+had been nothing more terrible.
+
+Montanelli drew his chair closer to the pallet
+and sat down. The Gadfly was lying quite motionless,
+like a corpse, and his face was livid and
+drawn. After a long silence, he opened his eyes,
+and fixed their haunting, spectral gaze on the Cardinal.
+
+"Thank you," he said. "I--am sorry. I think
+--you asked me something?"
+
+"You are not fit to talk. If there is anything
+you want to say to me, I will try to come again
+to-morrow."
+
+"Please don't go, Your Eminence--indeed,
+there is nothing the matter with me. I--I have
+been a little upset these few days; it was half of
+it malingering, though--the colonel will tell you
+so if you ask him."
+
+"I prefer to form my own conclusions," Montanelli
+answered quietly.
+
+"S-so does the colonel. And occasionally, do
+you know, they are rather witty. You w-w-wouldn't
+think it to look at him; but s-s-sometimes he
+gets hold of an or-r-riginal idea. On
+Friday night, for instance--I think it was Friday,
+but I got a l-little mixed as to time towards the
+end--anyhow, I asked for a d-dose of opium--I
+remember that quite distinctly; and he came in
+here and said I m-might h-h-have it if I would
+tell him who un-l-l-locked the gate. I remember
+his saying: 'If it's real, you'll consent; if you
+don't, I shall look upon it as a p-proof that you are
+shamming.' It n-n-never oc-c-curred to me before
+how comic that is; it's one of the f-f-funniest things----"
+
+He burst into a sudden fit of harsh, discordant
+laughter; then, turning sharply on the silent Cardinal,
+went on, more and more hurriedly, and
+stammering so that the words were hardly intelligible:
+
+"You d-d-don't see that it's f-f-funny? Of
+c-course not; you r-religious people n-n-never have
+any s-sense of humour--you t-take everything
+t-t-tragically. F-for instance, that night in the
+Cath-thedral--how solemn you were! By the way
+--w-what a path-thetic figure I must have c-cut
+as the pilgrim! I d-don't believe you e-even see
+anything c-c-comic in the b-business you have
+c-come about this evening."
+
+Montanelli rose.
+
+"I came to hear what you have to say; but I
+think you are too much excited to say it to-night.
+The doctor had better give you a sedative, and we
+will talk to-morrow, when you have had a night's
+sleep."
+
+"S-sleep? Oh, I shall s-sleep well enough, Your
+Eminence, when you g-give your c-consent to the
+colonel's plan--an ounce of l-lead is a s-splendid
+sedative."
+
+"I don't understand you," Montanelli said,
+turning to him with a startled look.
+
+The Gadfly burst out laughing again.
+
+"Your Eminence, Your Eminence, t-t-truth
+is the c-chief of the Christian virtues! D-d-do
+you th-th-think I d-d-don't know how hard the
+Governor has been trying to g-get your consent to
+a court-martial? You had b-better by half g-give
+it, Your Eminence; it's only w-what all your
+b-brother prelates would do in your place. 'Cosi
+fan tutti;' and then you would be doing s-such a
+lot of good, and so l-little harm! Really, it's n-not
+worth all the sleepless nights you have been spending
+over it!"
+
+"Please stop laughing a minute," Montanelli
+interrupted, "and tell me how you heard all this.
+Who has been talking to you about it?"
+
+"H-hasn't the colonel e-e-ever told you I am
+a d-d-devil--not a man? No? He has t-told me
+so often enough! Well, I am devil enough to
+f-find out a little bit what p-people are thinking
+about. Your E-eminence is thinking that I'm a
+conf-founded nuisance, and you wish s-somebody
+else had to settle what's to be done with me, without
+disturbing your s-sensitive conscience. That's
+a p-pretty fair guess, isn't it?"
+
+"Listen to me," the Cardinal said, sitting down
+again beside him, with a very grave face. "However
+you found out all this, it is quite true.
+Colonel Ferrari fears another rescue attempt on
+the part of your friends, and wishes to forestall it
+in--the way you speak of. You see, I am quite
+frank with you."
+
+"Your E-eminence was always f-f-famous for
+truthfulness," the Gadfly put in bitterly.
+
+"You know, of course," Montanelli went on,
+"that legally I have no jurisdiction in temporal
+matters; I am a bishop, not a legate. But I have
+a good deal of influence in this district; and the
+colonel will not, I think, venture to take so extreme
+a course unless he can get, at least, my tacit
+consent to it. Up till now I have unconditionally
+opposed the scheme; and he has been trying
+very hard to conquer my objection by assuring me
+that there is great danger of an armed attempt
+on Thursday when the crowd collects for the procession
+--an attempt which probably would end
+in bloodshed. Do you follow me?"
+
+The Gadfly was staring absently out of the
+window. He looked round and answered in a
+weary voice:
+
+"Yes, I am listening."
+
+"Perhaps you are really not well enough to
+stand this conversation to-night. Shall I come
+back in the morning? It is a very serious matter,
+and I want your whole attention."
+
+"I would rather get it over now," the Gadfly
+answered in the same tone. "I follow everything
+you say."
+
+"Now, if it be true," Montanelli went on, "that
+there is any real danger of riots and bloodshed on
+account of you, I am taking upon myself a tremendous
+responsibility in opposing the colonel;
+and I believe there is at least some truth in what
+he says. On the other hand, I am inclined to
+think that his judgment is warped, to a certain
+extent, by his personal animosity against you, and
+that he probably exaggerates the danger. That
+seems to me the more likely since I have seen this
+shameful brutality." He glanced at the straps and
+chains lying on the floor, and went on:
+
+"If I consent, I kill you; if I refuse, I run the
+risk of killing innocent persons. I have considered
+the matter earnestly, and have sought with
+all my heart for a way out of this dreadful alternative.
+And now at last I have made up my mind."
+
+"To kill me and s-save the innocent persons,
+of course--the only decision a Christian man
+could possibly come to. 'If thy r-right hand
+offend thee,' etc. I have n-not the honour to be
+the right hand of Your Eminence, and I have
+offended you; the c-c-conclusion is plain. Couldn't
+you tell me that without so much preamble?"
+
+The Gadfly spoke with languid indifference and
+contempt, like a man weary of the whole subject.
+
+"Well?" he added after a little pause. "Was
+that the decision, Your Eminence?"
+
+"No."
+
+The Gadfly shifted his position, putting both
+hands behind his head, and looked at Montanelli
+with half-shut eyes. The Cardinal, with his head
+sunk down as in deep thought, was softly beating
+one hand on the arm of his chair. Ah, that old,
+familiar gesture!
+
+"I have decided," he said, raising his head at
+last, "to do, I suppose, an utterly unprecedented
+thing. When I heard that you had asked to see
+me, I resolved to come here and tell you everything,
+as I have done, and to place the matter in
+your own hands."
+
+"In--my hands?"
+
+"Signor Rivarez, I have not come to you as
+cardinal, or as bishop, or as judge; I have come
+to you as one man to another. I do not ask you
+to tell me whether you know of any such scheme
+as the colonel apprehends. I understand quite
+well that, if you do, it is your secret and you will
+not tell it. But I do ask you to put yourself in
+my place. I am old, and, no doubt, have not much
+longer to live. I would go down to my grave
+without blood on my hands."
+
+"Is there none on them as yet, Your Eminence?"
+
+Montanelli grew a shade paler, but went on
+quietly:
+
+"All my life I have opposed repressive measures
+and cruelty wherever I have met with them.
+I have always disapproved of capital punishment
+in all its forms; I have protested earnestly and
+repeatedly against the military commissions in the
+last reign, and have been out of favour on account
+of doing so. Up till now such influence and power
+as I have possessed have always been employed on
+the side of mercy. I ask you to believe me, at
+least, that I am speaking the truth. Now, I am
+placed in this dilemma. By refusing, I am exposing
+the town to the danger of riots and all their
+consequences; and this to save the life of a man
+who blasphemes against my religion, who has
+slandered and wronged and insulted me personally
+(though that is comparatively a trifle), and
+who, as I firmly believe, will put that life to a bad
+use when it is given to him. But--it is to save a
+man's life."
+
+He paused a moment, and went on again:
+
+"Signor Rivarez, everything that I know of
+your career seems to me bad and mischievous; and
+I have long believed you to be reckless and violent
+and unscrupulous. To some extent I hold that
+opinion of you still. But during this last fortnight
+you have shown me that you are a brave
+man and that you can be faithful to your friends.
+You have made the soldiers love and admire you,
+too; and not every man could have done that. I
+think that perhaps I have misjudged you, and that
+there is in you something better than what you
+show outside. To that better self in you I appeal,
+and solemnly entreat you, on your conscience, to
+tell me truthfully--in my place, what would you do?"
+
+A long silence followed; then the Gadfly looked up.
+
+"At least, I would decide my own actions for
+myself, and take the consequences of them. I
+would not come sneaking to other people, in the
+cowardly Christian way, asking them to solve my
+problems for me!"
+
+The onslaught was so sudden, and its extraordinary
+vehemence and passion were in such startling
+contrast to the languid affectation of a
+moment before, that it was as though he had
+thrown off a mask.
+
+"We atheists," he went on fiercely, "understand
+that if a man has a thing to bear, he must
+bear it as best he can; and if he sinks under it--
+why, so much the worse for him. But a Christian
+comes whining to his God, or his saints; or, if they
+won't help him, to his enemies--he can always
+find a back to shift his burdens on to. Isn't there
+a rule to go by in your Bible, or your Missal, or
+any of your canting theology books, that you
+must come to me to tell you what to do?
+Heavens and earth, man! Haven't I enough as
+it is, without your laying your responsibilities on
+my shoulders? Go back to your Jesus; he exacted
+the uttermost farthing, and you'd better do
+the same. After all, you'll only be killing an
+atheist--a man who boggles over 'shibboleth'; and
+that's no great crime, surely!"
+
+He broke off, panting for breath, and then
+burst out again:
+
+"And YOU to talk of cruelty! Why, that
+p-p-pudding-headed ass couldn't hurt me as much as you
+do if he tried for a year; he hasn't got the brains.
+All he can think of is to pull a strap tight, and
+when he can't get it any tighter he's at the end
+of his resources. Any fool can do that! But
+you---- 'Sign your own death sentence, please;
+I'm too tender-hearted to do it myself.' Oh! it
+would take a Christian to hit on that--a gentle,
+compassionate Christian, that turns pale at the
+sight of a strap pulled too tight! I might have
+known when you came in, like an angel of mercy--
+so shocked at the colonel's 'barbarity'--that the
+real thing was going to begin! Why do you look
+at me that way? Consent, man, of course, and
+go home to your dinner; the thing's not worth all
+this fuss. Tell your colonel he can have me shot,
+or hanged, or whatever comes handiest--roasted
+alive, if it's any amusement to him--and be done
+with it!"
+
+The Gadfly was hardly recognizable; he was
+beside himself with rage and desperation, panting
+and quivering, his eyes glittering with green reflections
+like the eyes of an angry cat.
+
+Montanelli had risen, and was looking down at
+him silently. He did not understand the drift of
+the frenzied reproaches, but he understood out of
+what extremity they were uttered; and, understanding
+that, forgave all past insults.
+
+"Hush!" he said. "I did not want to hurt you
+so. Indeed, I never meant to shift my burden
+on to you, who have too much already. I have
+never consciously done that to any living creature----"
+
+"It's a lie!" the Gadfly cried out with blazing
+eyes. "And the bishopric?"
+
+"The--bishopric?"
+
+"Ah! you've forgotten that? It's so easy to
+forget! 'If you wish it, Arthur, I will say I cannot
+go. I was to decide your life for you--I, at
+nineteen! If it weren't so hideous, it would be funny."
+
+"Stop!" Montanelli put up both hands to his
+head with a desperate cry. He let them fall again,
+and walked slowly away to the window. There he
+sat down on the sill, resting one arm on the bars,
+and pressing his forehead against it. The Gadfly
+lay and watched him, trembling.
+
+Presently Montanelli rose and came back, with
+lips as pale as ashes.
+
+"I am very sorry," he said, struggling piteously
+to keep up his usual quiet manner, "but I must
+go home. I--am not quite well."
+
+He was shivering as if with ague. All the Gadfly's
+fury broke down.
+
+"Padre, can't you see----"
+
+Montanelli shrank away, and stood still.
+
+"Only not that!" he whispered at last. "My
+God, anything but that! If I am going mad----"
+
+The Gadfly raised himself on one arm, and took
+the shaking hands in his.
+
+"Padre, will you never understand that I am
+not really drowned?"
+
+The hands grew suddenly cold and stiff. For a
+moment everything was dead with silence, and
+then Montanelli knelt down and hid his face on
+the Gadfly's breast.
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+When he raised his head the sun had set, and
+the red glow was dying in the west. They had
+forgotten time and place, and life and death; they
+had forgotten, even, that they were enemies.
+
+"Arthur," Montanelli whispered, "are you
+real? Have you come back to me from the dead?"
+
+"From the dead----" the Gadfly repeated,
+shivering. He was lying with his head on Montanelli's
+arm, as a sick child might lie in its mother's embrace.
+
+"You have come back--you have come back
+at last!"
+
+The Gadfly sighed heavily. "Yes," he said;
+"and you have to fight me, or to kill me."
+
+"Oh, hush, carino! What is all that now? We
+have been like two children lost in the dark,
+mistaking one another for phantoms. Now we have
+found each other, and have come out into the
+light. My poor boy, how changed you are--how
+changed you are! You look as if all the ocean of
+the world's misery had passed over your head--
+you that used to be so full of the joy of life!
+Arthur, is it really you? I have dreamed so often
+that you had come back to me; and then have
+waked and seen the outer darkness staring in
+upon an empty place. How can I know I shall
+not wake again and find it all a dream? Give
+me something tangible--tell me how it all happened."
+
+"It happened simply enough. I hid on a goods
+vessel, as stowaway, and got out to South America."
+
+"And there?"
+
+"There I--lived, if you like to call it so, till--
+oh, I have seen something else besides theological
+seminaries since you used to teach me philosophy!
+You say you have dreamed of me--yes, and
+much! You say you have dreamed of me--yes,
+and I of you----"
+
+He broke off, shuddering.
+
+"Once," he began again abruptly, "I was working
+at a mine in Ecuador----"
+
+"Not as a miner?"
+
+"No, as a miner's fag--odd-jobbing with the
+coolies. We had a barrack to sleep in at the pit's
+mouth; and one night--I had been ill, the same
+as lately, and carrying stones in the blazing
+sun--I must have got light-headed, for I saw you
+come in at the door-way. You were holding a
+crucifix like that one on the wall. You were praying,
+and brushed past me without turning. I
+cried out to you to help me--to give me poison or
+a knife--something to put an end to it all before I
+went mad. And you--ah------!"
+
+He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli
+was still clasping the other.
+
+"I saw in your face that you had heard, but you
+never looked round; you went on with your prayers.
+When you had finished, and kissed the crucifix,
+you glanced round and whispered: 'I am
+very sorry for you, Arthur; but I daren't show it;
+He would be angry.' And I looked at Him, and
+the wooden image was laughing.
+
+"Then, when I came to my senses, and saw the
+barrack and the coolies with their leprosy, I understood.
+I saw that you care more to curry favour
+with that devilish God of yours than to save me
+from any hell. And I have remembered that. I
+forgot just now when you touched me; I--have
+been ill, and I used to love you once. But there
+can be nothing between us but war, and war,
+and war. What do you want to hold my hand for?
+Can't you see that while you believe in your Jesus
+we can't be anything but enemies?"
+
+Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand.
+
+"Arthur, how can I help believing in Him? If
+I have kept my faith through all these frightful
+years, how can I ever doubt Him any more, now
+that He has given you back to me? Remember,
+I thought I had killed you."
+
+"You have that still to do."
+
+"Arthur!" It was a cry of actual terror; but
+the Gadfly went on, unheeding:
+
+"Let us be honest, whatever we do, and not
+shilly-shally. You and I stand on two sides of a
+pit, and it's hopeless trying to join hands across
+it. If you have decided that you can't, or won't,
+give up that thing"--he glanced again at the
+crucifix on the wall--"you must consent to what
+the colonel----"
+
+"Consent! My God--consent--Arthur, but I
+love you!"
+
+The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully.
+
+"Which do you love best, me or that thing?"
+
+Montanelli slowly rose. The very soul in him
+withered with dread, and he seemed to shrivel up
+bodily, and to grow feeble, and old, and wilted,
+like a leaf that the frost has touched. He had
+awaked out of his dream, and the outer darkness
+was staring in upon an empty place.
+
+"Arthur, have just a little mercy on me----"
+
+"How much had you for me when your lies
+drove me out to be slave to the blacks on the
+sugar-plantations? You shudder at that--ah,
+these tender-hearted saints! This is the man
+after God's own heart--the man that repents of
+his sin and lives. No one dies but his son. You
+say you love me,--your love has cost me dear
+enough! Do you think I can blot out everything,
+and turn back into Arthur at a few soft
+words--I, that have been dish-washer in filthy
+half-caste brothels and stable-boy to Creole farmers
+that were worse brutes than their own cattle?
+I, that have been zany in cap and bells for
+a strolling variety show--drudge and Jack-of-all-trades
+to the matadors in the bull-fighting
+ring; I, that have been slave to every black
+beast who cared to set his foot on my neck;
+I, that have been starved and spat upon and
+trampled under foot; I, that have begged for
+mouldy scraps and been refused because the dogs
+had the first right? Oh, what is the use of all this!
+How can I TELL you what you have brought on me?
+And now--you love me! How much do you love
+me? Enough to give up your God for me? Oh,
+what has He done for you, this everlasting Jesus,
+--what has He suffered for you, that you should
+love Him more than me? Is it for the pierced
+hands He is so dear to you? Look at mine!
+Look here, and here, and here----"
+
+He tore open his shirt and showed the ghastly scars.
+
+"Padre, this God of yours is an impostor, His
+wounds are sham wounds, His pain is all a farce!
+It is I that have the right to your heart! Padre,
+there is no torture you have not put me to; if
+you could only know what my life has been! And
+yet I would not die! I have endured it all, and
+have possessed my soul in patience, because I
+would come back and fight this God of yours. I
+have held this purpose as a shield against my
+heart, and it has saved me from madness, and from
+the second death. And now, when I come back,
+I find Him still in my place--this sham victim that
+was crucified for six hours, forsooth, and rose
+again from the dead! Padre, I have been crucified
+for five years, and I, too, have risen from the
+dead. What are you going to do with me?
+What are you going to do with me?"
+
+He broke down. Montanelli sat like some
+stone image, or like a dead man set upright. At
+first, under the fiery torrent of the Gadfly's despair,
+he had quivered a little, with the automatic
+shrinking of the flesh, as under the lash
+of a whip; but now he was quite still. After a
+long silence he looked up and spoke, lifelessly,
+patiently:
+
+"Arthur, will you explain to me more clearly?
+You confuse and terrify me so, I can't understand.
+What is it you demand of me?"
+
+The Gadfly turned to him a spectral face.
+
+"I demand nothing. Who shall compel love?
+You are free to choose between us two the one
+who is most dear to you. If you love Him best,
+choose Him."
+
+"I can't understand," Montanelli repeated
+wearily. "What is there I can choose? I cannot
+undo the past."
+
+"You have to choose between us. If you love
+me, take that cross off your neck and come away
+with me. My friends are arranging another
+attempt, and with your help they could manage
+it easily. Then, when we are safe over the frontier,
+acknowledge me publicly. But if you don't
+love me enough for that,--if this wooden idol is
+more to you than I,--then go to the colonel and
+tell him you consent. And if you go, then go at
+once, and spare me the misery of seeing you. I
+have enough without that."
+
+Montanelli looked up, trembling faintly. He
+was beginning to understand.
+
+"I will communicate with your friends, of
+course. But--to go with you--it is impossible--
+I am a priest."
+
+"And I accept no favours from priests. I will
+have no more compromises, Padre; I have had
+enough of them, and of their consequences. You
+must give up your priesthood, or you must give
+up me."
+
+"How can I give you up? Arthur, how can I
+give you up?"
+
+"Then give up Him. You have to choose between
+us. Would you offer me a share of your
+love--half for me, half for your fiend of a God?
+I will not take His leavings. If you are His, you
+are not mine."
+
+"Would you have me tear my heart in two?
+Arthur! Arthur! Do you want to drive me
+mad?"
+
+The Gadfly struck his hand against the wall.
+
+"You have to choose between us," he repeated
+once more.
+
+Montanelli drew from his breast a little case
+containing a bit of soiled and crumpled paper.
+
+"Look!" he said.
+
+
+"I believed in you, as I believed in God. God is
+a thing made of clay, that I can smash with a hammer;
+and you have fooled me with a lie."
+
+
+The Gadfly laughed and handed it back. "How
+d-d-delightfully young one is at nineteen! To
+take a hammer and smash things seems so easy.
+It's that now--only it's I that am under the hammer.
+As for you, there are plenty of other people
+you can fool with lies--and they won't even find
+you out."
+
+"As you will," Montanelli said. "Perhaps in
+your place I should be as merciless as you--God
+knows. I can't do what you ask, Arthur; but I
+will do what I can. I will arrange your escape,
+and when you are safe I will have an accident in
+the mountains, or take the wrong sleeping-draught
+by mistake--whatever you like to choose.
+Will that content you? It is all I can do. It is a
+great sin; but I think He will forgive me. He is
+more merciful------"
+
+The Gadfly flung out both hands with a sharp cry.
+
+"Oh, that is too much! That is too much!
+What have I done that you should think of me
+that way? What right have you---- As if I
+wanted to be revenged on you! Can't you see
+that I only want to save you? Will you never
+understand that I love you?"
+
+He caught hold of Montanelli's hands and
+covered them with burning kisses and tears.
+
+"Padre, come away with us! What have you
+to do with this dead world of priests and idols?
+They are full of the dust of bygone ages; they are
+rotten; they are pestilent and foul! Come out of
+this plague-stricken Church--come away with us
+into the light! Padre, it is we that are life and
+youth; it is we that are the everlasting springtime;
+it is we that are the future! Padre, the dawn is
+close upon us--will you miss your part in the sunrise?
+Wake up, and let us forget the horrible
+nightmares,--wake up, and we will begin our life
+again! Padre, I have always loved you--always,
+even when you killed me--will you kill me again?"
+
+Montanelli tore his hands away. "Oh, God
+have mercy on me!" he cried out. "YOU HAVE
+YOUR MOTHER'S EYES!"
+
+A strange silence, long and deep and sudden, fell
+upon them both. In the gray twilight they
+looked at each other, and their hearts stood still
+with fear.
+
+"Have you anything more to say?" Montanelli
+whispered. "Any--hope to give me?"
+
+"No. My life is of no use to me except to
+fight priests. I am not a man; I am a knife. If
+you let me live, you sanction knives."
+
+Montanelli turned to the crucifix. "God!
+Listen to this----"
+
+His voice died away into the empty stillness
+without response. Only the mocking devil awoke
+again in the Gadfly.
+
+"'C-c-call him louder; perchance he s-s-sleepeth'----"
+
+Montanelli started up as if he had been struck.
+For a moment he stood looking straight before
+him;--then he sat down on the edge of the pallet,
+covered his face with both hands, and burst into
+tears. A long shudder passed through the Gadfly,
+and the damp cold broke out on his body. He
+knew what the tears meant.
+
+He drew the blanket over his head that he might
+not hear. It was enough that he had to die--he
+who was so vividly, magnificently alive. But he
+could not shut out the sound; it rang in his
+ears, it beat in his brain, it throbbed in all his
+pulses. And still Montanelli sobbed and sobbed,
+and the tears dripped down between his fingers.
+
+He left off sobbing at last, and dried his eyes
+with his handkerchief, like a child that has been
+crying. As he stood up the handkerchief slipped
+from his knee and fell to the floor.
+
+"There is no use in talking any more," he said.
+"You understand?"
+
+"I understand," the Gadfly answered, with dull
+submission. "It's not your fault. Your God is
+hungry, and must be fed."
+
+Montanelli turned towards him. The grave
+that was to be dug was not more still than they
+were. Silent, they looked into each other's eyes,
+as two lovers, torn apart, might gaze across the
+barrier they cannot pass.
+
+It was the Gadfly whose eyes sank first. He
+shrank down, hiding his face; and Montanelli
+understood that the gesture meant "Go!" He
+turned, and went out of the cell. A moment
+later the Gadfly started up.
+
+"Oh, I can't bear it! Padre, come back!
+Come back!"
+
+The door was shut. He looked around him
+slowly, with a wide, still gaze, and understood that
+all was over. The Galilean had conquered.
+
+All night long the grass waved softly in the
+courtyard below--the grass that was so soon to
+wither, uprooted by the spade; and all night long
+the Gadfly lay alone in the darkness, and sobbed.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+THE court-martial was held on Tuesday morning.
+It was a very short and simple affair; a
+mere formality, occupying barely twenty minutes.
+There was, indeed, nothing to spend much time
+over; no defence was allowed, and the only witnesses
+were the wounded spy and officer and a
+few soldiers. The sentence was drawn up beforehand;
+Montanelli had sent in the desired informal
+consent; and the judges (Colonel Ferrari, the local
+major of dragoons, and two officers of the Swiss
+guards) had little to do. The indictment was
+read aloud, the witnesses gave their evidence, and
+the signatures were affixed to the sentence, which
+was then read to the condemned man with befitting
+solemnity. He listened in silence; and when
+asked, according to the usual form, whether he had
+anything to say, merely waved the question aside
+with an impatient movement of his hand. Hidden
+on his breast was the handkerchief which Montanelli
+had let fall. It had been kissed and wept
+over all night, as though it were a living thing.
+Now he looked wan and spiritless, and the traces
+of tears were still about his eyelids; but the words:
+"to be shot," did not seem to affect him much.
+When they were uttered, the pupils of his eyes
+dilated, but that was all.
+
+"Take him back to his cell," the Governor said.
+when all the formalities were over; and the sergeant,
+who was evidently near to breaking down,
+touched the motionless figure on the shoulder.
+The Gadfly looked round him with a little start.
+
+"Ah, yes!" he said. "I forgot."
+
+There was something almost like pity in the
+Governor's face. He was not a cruel man by
+nature, and was secretly a little ashamed of the
+part he had been playing during the last month.
+Now that his main point was gained he was willing
+to make every little concession in his power.
+
+"You needn't put the irons on again," he said,
+glancing at the bruised and swollen wrists. "And
+he can stay in his own cell. The condemned cell
+is wretchedly dark and gloomy," he added, turning
+to his nephew; "and really the thing's a mere
+formality."
+
+He coughed and shifted his feet in evident embarrassment;
+then called back the sergeant, who
+was leaving the room with his prisoner.
+
+"Wait, sergeant; I want to speak to him."
+
+The Gadfly did not move, and the Governor's
+voice seemed to fall on unresponsive ears.
+
+"If you have any message you would like conveyed
+to your friends or relatives---- You have
+relatives, I suppose?"
+
+There was no answer.
+
+"Well, think it over and tell me, or the priest.
+I will see it is not neglected. You had better give
+your messages to the priest; he shall come at once,
+and stay the night with you. If there is any other
+wish----"
+
+The Gadfly looked up.
+
+"Tell the priest I would rather be alone. I
+have no friends and no messages."
+
+"But you will want to confess."
+
+"I am an atheist. I want nothing but to be
+left in peace."
+
+He said it in a dull, quiet voice, without defiance
+or irritation; and turned slowly away. At the
+door he stopped again.
+
+"I forgot, colonel; there is a favour I wanted
+to ask. Don't let them tie me or bandage my
+eyes to-morrow, please. I will stand quite still."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+At sunrise on Wednesday morning they brought
+him out into the courtyard. His lameness was
+more than usually apparent, and he walked with
+evident difficulty and pain, leaning heavily on the
+sergeant's arm; but all the weary submission had
+gone out of his face. The spectral terrors that
+had crushed him down in the empty silence, the
+visions and dreams of the world of shadows, were
+gone with the night which gave them birth; and
+once the sun was shining and his enemies were
+present to rouse the fighting spirit in him, he was
+not afraid.
+
+The six carabineers who had been told off for
+the execution were drawn up in line against the
+ivied wall; the same crannied and crumbling wall
+down which he had climbed on the night of his
+unlucky attempt. They could hardly refrain from
+weeping as they stood together, each man with his
+carbine in his hand. It seemed to them a horror
+beyond imagination that they should be called out
+to kill the Gadfly. He and his stinging repartees,
+his perpetual laughter, his bright, infectious courage,
+had come into their dull and dreary lives like
+a wandering sunbeam; and that he should die, and
+at their hands, was to them as the darkening of
+the clear lamps of heaven.
+
+Under the great fig-tree in the courtyard, his
+grave was waiting for him. It had been dug in
+the night by unwilling hands; and tears had fallen
+on the spade. As he passed he looked down,
+smiling, at the black pit and the withering grass
+beside it; and drew a long breath, to smell the
+scent of the freshly turned earth.
+
+Near the tree the sergeant stopped short, and
+the Gadfly looked round with his brightest smile.
+
+"Shall I stand here, sergeant?"
+
+The man nodded silently; there was a lump in
+his throat, and he could not have spoken to save
+his life. The Governor, his nephew, the lieutenant
+of carabineers who was to command, a doctor and
+a priest were already in the courtyard, and came
+forward with grave faces, half abashed under the
+radiant defiance of the Gadfly's laughing eyes.
+
+"G-good morning, gentlemen! Ah, and his
+reverence is up so early, too! How do you do,
+captain? This is a pleasanter occasion for you
+than our former meeting, isn't it? I see your arm
+is still in a sling; that's because I bungled my
+work. These good fellows will do theirs better--
+won't you, lads?"
+
+He glanced round at the gloomy faces of the
+carabineers.
+
+"There'll be no need of slings this time, any way.
+There, there, you needn't look so doleful over it!
+Put your heels together and show how straight
+you can shoot. Before long there'll be more work
+cut out for you than you'll know how to get
+through, and there's nothing like practice beforehand."
+
+"My son," the priest interrupted, coming forward,
+while the others drew back to leave them
+alone together; "in a few minutes you must enter
+into the presence of your Maker. Have you no
+other use but this for these last moments that are
+left you for repentance? Think, I entreat you,
+how dreadful a thing it is to die without absolution,
+with all your sins upon your head. When
+you stand before your Judge it will be too late to
+repent. Will you approach His awful throne with
+a jest upon your lips?"
+
+"A jest, your reverence? It is your side that
+needs that little homily, I think. When our turn
+comes we shall use field-guns instead of half a
+dozen second-hand carbines, and then you'll see
+how much we're in jest."
+
+"YOU will use field-guns! Oh, unhappy man!
+Have you still not realized on what frightful brink
+you stand?"
+
+The Gadfly glanced back over his shoulder at
+the open grave.
+
+"And s-s-so your reverence thinks that, when
+you have put me down there, you will have done
+with me? Perhaps you will lay a stone on the top
+to pre-v-vent a r-resurrection 'after three days'?
+No fear, your reverence! I shan't poach on the
+monopoly in cheap theatricals; I shall lie as still as
+a m-mouse, just where you put me. And all the
+same, WE shall use field-guns."
+
+"Oh, merciful God," the priest cried out; "forgive
+this wretched man!"
+
+"Amen!" murmured the lieutenant of carabineers,
+in a deep bass growl, while the colonel and
+his nephew crossed themselves devoutly.
+
+As there was evidently no hope of further insistence
+producing any effect, the priest gave up the
+fruitless attempt and moved aside, shaking his
+head and murmuring a prayer. The short and
+simple preparations were made without more delay,
+and the Gadfly placed himself in the required
+position, only turning his head to glance up for
+a moment at the red and yellow splendour of the
+sunrise. He had repeated the request that his
+eyes might not be bandaged, and his defiant face
+had wrung from the colonel a reluctant consent.
+They had both forgotten what they were inflicting
+on the soldiers.
+
+He stood and faced them, smiling, and the carbines
+shook in their hands.
+
+"I am quite ready," he said.
+
+The lieutenant stepped forward, trembling a
+little with excitement. He had never given the
+word of command for an execution before.
+
+"Ready--present--fire!"
+
+The Gadfly staggered a little and recovered his
+balance. One unsteady shot had grazed his cheek,
+and a little blood fell on to the white cravat.
+Another ball had struck him above the knee.
+When the smoke cleared away the soldiers looked
+and saw him smiling still and wiping the blood
+from his cheek with the mutilated hand
+
+"A bad shot, men!" he said; and his voice cut
+in, clear and articulate, upon the dazed stupor of
+the wretched soldiers. "Have another try."
+
+A general groan and shudder passed through
+the row of carabineers. Each man had aimed aside,
+with a secret hope that the death-shot would come
+from his neighbour's hand, not his; and there the
+Gadfly stood and smiled at them; they had only
+turned the execution into a butchery, and the
+whole ghastly business was to do again. They
+were seized with sudden terror, and, lowering their
+carbines, listened hopelessly to the furious curses
+and reproaches of the officers, staring in dull
+horror at the man whom they had killed and who
+somehow was not dead.
+
+The Governor shook his fist in their faces,
+savagely shouting to them to stand in position,
+to present arms, to make haste and get the thing
+over. He had become as thoroughly demoralized
+as they were, and dared not look at the terrible
+figure that stood, and stood, and would not fall.
+When the Gadfly spoke to him he started and
+shuddered at the sound of the mocking voice.
+
+"You have brought out the awkward squad this
+morning, colonel! Let me see if I can manage
+them better. Now, men! Hold your tool higher
+there, you to the left. Bless your heart, man, it's
+a carbine you've got in your hand, not a frying-pan!
+Are you all straight? Now then! Ready--present----"
+
+"Fire!" the colonel interrupted, starting forward.
+It was intolerable that this man should
+give the command for his own death.
+
+There was another confused, disorganized volley,
+and the line broke up into a knot of shivering
+figures, staring before them with wild eyes. One
+of the soldiers had not even discharged his carbine;
+he had flung it away, and crouched down, moaning
+under his breath: "I can't--I can't!"
+
+The smoke cleared slowly away, floating up into
+the glimmer of the early sunlight; and they saw
+that the Gadfly had fallen; and saw, too, that he
+was still not dead. For the first moment soldiers
+and officials stood as if they had been turned to
+stone, and watched the ghastly thing that writhed
+and struggled on the ground; then both doctor
+and colonel rushed forward with a cry, for he had
+dragged himself up on one knee and was still facing
+the soldiers, and still laughing.
+
+"Another miss! Try--again, lads--see--if you can't----"
+
+He suddenly swayed and fell over sideways on
+the grass.
+
+"Is he dead?" the colonel asked under his
+breath; and the doctor, kneeling down, with a
+hand on the bloody shirt, answered softly:
+
+"I think so--God be praised!"
+
+"God be praised!" the colonel repeated. "At
+last!"
+
+His nephew was touching him on the arm.
+
+"Uncle! It's the Cardinal! He's at the gate
+and wants to come in."
+
+"What? He can't come in--I won't have
+it! What are the guards about? Your Eminence----"
+
+The gate had opened and shut, and Montanelli
+was standing in the courtyard, looking before him
+with still and awful eyes.
+
+"Your Eminence! I must beg of you--this is
+not a fit sight for you! The execution is only just
+over; the body is not yet----"
+
+"I have come to look at him," Montanelli said.
+Even at the moment it struck the Governor that
+his voice and bearing were those of a sleep-walker.
+
+"Oh, my God!" one of the soldiers cried out
+suddenly; and the Governor glanced hastily back.
+Surely------
+
+The blood-stained heap on the grass had once
+more begun to struggle and moan. The doctor
+flung himself down and lifted the head upon his knee.
+
+"Make haste!" he cried in desperation. "You
+savages, make haste! Get it over, for God's sake!
+There's no bearing this!"
+
+Great jets of blood poured over his hands, and
+the convulsions of the figure that he held in his
+arms shook him, too, from head to foot. As he
+looked frantically round for help, the priest bent
+over his shoulder and put a crucifix to the lips of
+the dying man.
+
+"In the name of the Father and of the Son----"
+
+The Gadfly raised himself against the doctor's
+knee, and, with wide-open eyes, looked straight
+upon the crucifix.
+
+Slowly, amid hushed and frozen stillness, he
+lifted the broken right hand and pushed away the
+image. There was a red smear across its face.
+
+"Padre--is your--God--satisfied?"
+
+His head fell back on the doctor's arm.
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+"Your Eminence!"
+
+As the Cardinal did not awake from his stupor,
+Colonel Ferrari repeated, louder:
+
+"Your Eminence!"
+
+Montanelli looked up.
+
+"He is dead."
+
+"Quite dead, your Eminence. Will you not
+come away? This is a horrible sight."
+
+"He is dead," Montanelli repeated, and looked
+down again at the face. "I touched him; and he
+is dead."
+
+"What does he expect a man to be with half a
+dozen bullets in him?" the lieutenant whispered
+contemptuously; and the doctor whispered back.
+"I think the sight of the blood has upset him."
+
+The Governor put his hand firmly on Montanelli's arm.
+
+"Your Eminence--you had better not look at
+him any longer. Will you allow the chaplain to
+escort you home?"
+
+"Yes--I will go."
+
+He turned slowly from the blood-stained spot
+and walked away, the priest and sergeant following.
+At the gate he paused and looked back, with
+a ghostlike, still surprise.
+
+"He is dead."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+A few hours later Marcone went up to a cottage
+on the hillside to tell Martini that there
+was no longer any need for him to throw away his
+life.
+
+All the preparations for a second attempt at
+rescue were ready, as the plot was much more
+simple than the former one. It had been arranged
+that on the following morning, as the Corpus
+Domini procession passed along the fortress hill,
+Martini should step forward out of the crowd,
+draw a pistol from his breast, and fire in the Governor's
+face. In the moment of wild confusion
+which would follow twenty armed men were to
+make a sudden rush at the gate, break into the
+tower, and, taking the turnkey with them by force,
+to enter the prisoner's cell and carry him bodily
+away, killing or overpowering everyone who interfered
+with them. From the gate they were to
+retire fighting, and cover the retreat of a second
+band of armed and mounted smugglers, who would
+carry him off into a safe hiding-place in the
+hills. The only person in the little group who
+knew nothing of the plan was Gemma; it had been
+kept from her at Martini's special desire. "She
+will break her heart over it soon enough," he had
+said.
+
+As the smuggler came in at the garden gate
+Martini opened the glass door and stepped out
+on to the verandah to meet him.
+
+"Any news, Marcone? Ah!"
+
+The smuggler had pushed back his broad-brimmed
+straw hat.
+
+They sat down together on the verandah. Not
+a word was spoken on either side. From the
+instant when Martini had caught sight of the face
+under the hat-brim he had understood.
+
+"When was it?" he asked after a long pause;
+and his own voice, in his ears, was as dull and
+wearisome as everything else.
+
+"This morning, at sunrise. The sergeant told
+me. He was there and saw it."
+
+Martini looked down and flicked a stray thread
+from his coat-sleeve.
+
+Vanity of vanities; this also is vanity. He was
+to have died to-morrow. And now the land
+of his heart's desire had vanished, like the fairyland
+of golden sunset dreams that fades away when
+the darkness comes; and he was driven back into
+the world of every day and every night--the world
+of Grassini and Galli, of ciphering and pamphleteering,
+of party squabbles between comrades
+and dreary intrigues among Austrian spies--of the
+old revolutionary mill-round that maketh the
+heart sick. And somewhere down at the bottom
+of his consciousness there was a great empty place;
+a place that nothing and no one would fill any
+more, now that the Gadfly was dead.
+
+Someone was asking him a question, and he
+raised his head, wondering what could be left that
+was worth the trouble of talking about.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"I was saying that of course you will break the
+news to her."
+
+Life, and all the horror of life, came back into
+Martini's face.
+
+"How can I tell her?" he cried out. "You
+might as well ask me to go and stab her. Oh,
+how can I tell her--how can I!"
+
+He had clasped both hands over his eyes; but,
+without seeing, he felt the smuggler start beside
+him, and looked up. Gemma was standing in the
+doorway.
+
+"Have you heard, Cesare?" she said. "It is
+all over. They have shot him."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+"INTROIBO ad altare Dei." Montanelli stood
+before the high altar among his ministers and acolytes
+and read the Introit aloud in steady tones.
+All the Cathedral was a blaze of light and colour;
+from the holiday dresses of the congregation to
+the pillars with their flaming draperies and wreaths
+of flowers there was no dull spot in it. Over the
+open spaces of the doorway fell great scarlet curtains,
+through whose folds the hot June sunlight
+glowed, as through the petals of red poppies in
+a corn-field. The religious orders with their candles
+and torches, the companies of the parishes
+with their crosses and flags, lighted up the dim
+side-chapels; and in the aisles the silken folds of
+the processional banners drooped, their gilded
+staves and tassels glinting under the arches. The
+surplices of the choristers gleamed, rainbow-tinted,
+beneath the coloured windows; the sunlight
+lay on the chancel floor in chequered stains of
+orange and purple and green. Behind the altar
+hung a shimmering veil of silver tissue; and against
+the veil and the decorations and the altar-lights
+the Cardinal's figure stood out in its trailing white
+robes like a marble statue that had come to life.
+
+As was customary on processional days, he was
+only to preside at the Mass, not to celebrate, so
+at the end of the Indulgentiam he turned from the
+altar and walked slowly to the episcopal throne,
+celebrant and ministers bowing low as he passed.
+
+"I'm afraid His Eminence is not well," one of
+the canons whispered to his neighbour; "he seems
+so strange."
+
+Montanelli bent his head to receive the jewelled
+mitre. The priest who was acting as deacon of
+honour put it on, looked at him for an instant,
+then leaned forward and whispered softly:
+
+"Your Eminence, are you ill?"
+
+Montanelli turned slightly towards him. There
+was no recognition in his eyes.
+
+"Pardon, Your Eminence!" the priest whispered,
+as he made a genuflexion and went back to
+his place, reproaching himself for having interrupted
+the Cardinal's devotions.
+
+The familiar ceremony went on; and Montanelli
+sat erect and still, his glittering mitre and gold-brocaded
+vestments flashing back the sunlight,
+and the heavy folds of his white festival mantle
+sweeping down over the red carpet. The light of a
+hundred candles sparkled among the sapphires on
+his breast, and shone into the deep, still eyes that
+had no answering gleam; and when, at the words:
+"Benedicite, pater eminentissime," he stooped to
+bless the incense, and the sunbeams played among
+the diamonds, he might have recalled some splendid
+and fearful ice-spirit of the mountains, crowned
+with rainbows and robed in drifted snow, scattering,
+with extended hands, a shower of blessings or
+of curses.
+
+At the elevation of the Host he descended from
+his throne and knelt before the altar. There was
+a strange, still evenness about all his movements;
+and as he rose and went back to his place the major
+of dragoons, who was sitting in gala uniform behind
+the Governor, whispered to the wounded
+captain: "The old Cardinal's breaking, not a
+doubt of it. He goes through his work like a
+machine."
+
+"So much the better!" the captain whispered
+back. "He's been nothing but a mill-stone round
+all our necks ever since that confounded amnesty."
+
+"He did give in, though, about the court-martial."
+
+"Yes, at last; but he was a precious time making
+up his mind to. Heavens, how close it is!
+We shall all get sun-stroke in the procession. It's
+a pity we're not Cardinals, to have a canopy held
+over our heads all the way---- Sh-sh-sh!
+There's my uncle looking at us!"
+
+Colonel Ferrari had turned round to glance
+severely at the two younger officers. After the
+solemn event of yesterday morning he was in a
+devout and serious frame of mind, and inclined to
+reproach them with a want of proper feeling about
+what he regarded as "a painful necessity of state."
+
+The masters of the ceremonies began to
+assemble and place in order those who were to
+take part in the procession. Colonel Ferrari rose
+from his place and moved up to the chancel-rail,
+beckoning to the other officers to accompany him.
+When the Mass was finished, and the Host had
+been placed behind the crystal shield in the processional
+sun, the celebrant and his ministers retired
+to the sacristy to change their vestments, and a
+little buzz of whispered conversation broke out
+through the church. Montanelli remained seated
+on his throne, looking straight before him, immovably.
+All the sea of human life and motion
+seemed to surge around and below him, and to die
+away into stillness about his feet. A censer was
+brought to him; and he raised his hand with the
+action of an automaton, and put the incense into
+the vessel, looking neither to the right nor to the left.
+
+The clergy had come back from the sacristy,
+and were waiting in the chancel for him to descend;
+but he remained utterly motionless. The
+deacon of honour, bending forward to take off the
+mitre, whispered again, hesitatingly:
+
+"Your Eminence!"
+
+The Cardinal looked round.
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"Are you quite sure the procession will not be
+too much for you? The sun is very hot."
+
+"What does the sun matter?"
+
+Montanelli spoke in a cold, measured voice,
+and the priest again fancied that he must have
+given offence.
+
+"Forgive me, Your Eminence. I thought you
+seemed unwell."
+
+Montanelli rose without answering. He paused
+a moment on the upper step of the throne, and
+asked in the same measured way:
+
+"What is that?"
+
+The long train of his mantle swept down over the
+steps and lay spread out on the chancel-floor, and
+he was pointing to a fiery stain on the white satin.
+
+"It's only the sunlight shining through a coloured
+window, Your Eminence."
+
+"The sunlight? Is it so red?"
+
+He descended the steps, and knelt before the
+altar, swinging the censer slowly to and fro. As
+he handed it back, the chequered sunlight fell on
+his bared head and wide, uplifted eyes, and cast a
+crimson glow across the white veil that his ministers
+were folding round him.
+
+He took from the deacon the sacred golden sun;
+and stood up, as choir and organ burst into a peal
+of triumphal melody.
+
+
+       "Pange, lingua, g]oriosi
+        Corporis mysterium,
+        Sanguinisque pretiosi
+        Quem in mundi pretium,
+        Fructus ventris generosi
+        Rex effudit gentium."
+
+
+The bearers came slowly forward, and raised the
+silken canopy over his head, while the deacons of
+honour stepped to their places at his right and left
+and drew back the long folds of the mantle. As
+the acolytes stooped to lift his robe from the
+chancel-floor, the lay fraternities heading the procession
+started to pace down the nave in stately
+double file, with lighted candles held to left and right.
+
+He stood above them, by the altar, motionless
+under the white canopy, holding the Eucharist
+aloft with steady hands, and watched them as they
+passed. Two by two, with candles and banners
+and torches, with crosses and images and flags,
+they swept slowly down the chancel steps, along
+the broad nave between the garlanded pillars, and
+out under the lifted scarlet curtains into the blazing
+sunlight of the street; and the sound of their
+chanting died into a rolling murmur, drowned in
+the pealing of new and newer voices, as the unending
+stream flowed on, and yet new footsteps echoed down the nave.
+
+The companies of the parishes passed, with their
+white shrouds and veiled faces; then the brothers
+of the Misericordia, black from head to foot,
+their eyes faintly gleaming through the holes in
+their masks. Next came the monks in solemn
+row: the mendicant friars, with their dusky cowls
+and bare, brown feet; the white-robed, grave Dominicans.
+Then followed the lay officials of the
+district; dragoons and carabineers and the local
+police-officials; the Governor in gala uniform, with
+his brother officers beside him. A deacon followed,
+holding up a great cross between two
+acolytes with gleaming candles; and as the curtains
+were lifted high to let them pass out at the
+doorway, Montanelli caught a momentary glimpse,
+from where he stood under the canopy, of the sunlit
+blaze of carpeted street and flag-hung walls and
+white-robed children scattering roses. Ah, the
+roses; how red they were!
+
+On and on the procession paced in order; form
+succeeding to form and colour to colour. Long
+white surplices, grave and seemly, gave place to
+gorgeous vestments and embroidered pluvials.
+Now passed a tall and slender golden cross, borne
+high above the lighted candles; now the cathedral
+canons, stately in their dead white mantles. A
+chaplain paced down the chancel, with the crozier
+between two flaring torches; then the acolytes
+moved forward in step, their censers swinging to
+the rhythm of the music; the bearers raised the
+canopy higher, counting their steps: "One, two;
+one, two!" and Montanelli started upon the Way
+of the Cross.
+
+Down the chancel steps and all along the nave
+he passed; under the gallery where the organ
+pealed and thundered; under the lifted curtains
+that were so red--so fearfully red; and out into
+the glaring street, where the blood-red roses lay
+and withered, crushed into the red carpet by the
+passing of many feet. A moment's pause at the
+door, while the lay officials came forward to replace
+the canopy-bearers; then the procession moved on
+again, and he with it, his hands clasping the
+Eucharistic sun, and the voices of the choristers
+swelling and dying around him, with the rhythmical
+swaying of censers and the rolling tramp of feet.
+
+
+       "Verbum caro, panem verum,
+        Verbo carnem efficit;
+        Sitque sanguis Christi merum----"
+
+
+Always blood and always blood! The carpet
+stretched before him like a red river; the roses lay
+like blood splashed on the stones---- Oh, God!
+Is all Thine earth grown red, and all Thy heaven?
+Ah, what is it to Thee, Thou mighty God----
+Thou, whose very lips are smeared with blood!
+
+
+       "Tantum ergo Sacramentum,
+        Veneremur cernui."
+
+
+He looked through the crystal shield at the
+Eucharist. What was that oozing from the wafer--
+dripping down between the points of the golden
+sun--down on to his white robe? What had he seen
+dripping down--dripping from a lifted hand?
+
+The grass in the courtyard was trampled and
+red,--all red,--there was so much blood. It was
+trickling down the cheek, and dripping from the
+pierced right hand, and gushing in a hot red torrent
+from the wounded side. Even a lock of the
+hair was dabbled in it,--the hair that lay all wet
+and matted on the forehead--ah, that was the
+death-sweat; it came from the horrible pain.
+
+The voices of the choristers rose higher, triumphantly:
+
+
+       "Genitori, genitoque,
+        Laus et jubilatio,
+        Salus, honor, virtus quoque,
+        Sit et benedictio."
+
+
+Oh, that is more than any patience can endure!
+God, Who sittest on the brazen heavens enthroned,
+and smilest with bloody lips, looking
+down upon agony and death, is it not enough? Is
+it not enough, without this mockery of praise and
+blessing? Body of Christ, Thou that wast broken
+for the salvation of men; blood of Christ, Thou
+that wast shed for the remission of sins; is it not
+enough?
+
+"Ah, call Him louder; perchance He sleepeth!
+
+Dost Thou sleep indeed, dear love; and wilt
+Thou never wake again? Is the grave so jealous
+of its victory; and will the black pit under the tree
+not loose Thee even for a little, heart's delight?
+
+Then the Thing behind the crystal shield made
+answer, and the blood dripped down as It spoke:
+
+"Hast thou chosen, and wilt repent of thy
+choice? Is thy desire not fulfilled? Look upon
+these men that walk in the light and are clad in
+silk and in gold: for their sake was I laid in the
+black pit. Look upon the children scattering
+roses, and hearken to their singing if it be sweet:
+for their sake is my mouth filled with dust, and the
+roses are red from the well-springs of my heart.
+See where the people kneel to drink the blood that
+drips from thy garment-hem: for their sake was
+it shed, to quench their ravening thirst. For it is
+written: 'Greater love hath no man than this, if
+a man lay down his life for his friends.'"
+
+"Oh, Arthur, Arthur; there is greater love than
+this! If a man lay down the life of his best beloved,
+is not that greater?"
+
+And It answered again:
+
+"Who is thy best beloved? In sooth, not I."
+
+And when he would have spoken the words
+froze on his tongue, for the singing of the choristers
+passed over them, as the north wind over icy
+pools, and hushed them into silence:
+
+
+     "Dedit fragilibus corporis ferculum,
+      Dedit et tristibus sanguinis poculum,
+      Dicens: Accipite, quod trado vasculum
+              Omnes ex eo bibite."
+
+
+Drink of it, Christians; drink of it, all of you!
+Is it not yours? For you the red stream stains
+the grass; for you the living flesh is seared and
+torn. Eat of it, cannibals; eat of it, all of you!
+This is your feast and your orgy; this is the day of
+your joy! Haste you and come to the festival;
+join the procession and march with us; women
+and children, young men and old men--come to
+the sharing of flesh! Come to the pouring of
+blood-wine and drink of it while it is red; take
+and eat of the Body----
+
+Ah, God; the fortress! Sullen and brown, with
+crumbling battlements and towers dark among the
+barren hills, it scowled on the procession sweeping
+past in the dusty road below. The iron teeth
+of the portcullis were drawn down over the mouth
+of the gate; and as a beast crouched on the mountain-side,
+the fortress guarded its prey. Yet, be
+the teeth clenched never so fast, they shall be
+broken and riven asunder; and the grave in the
+courtyard within shall yield up her dead. For the
+Christian hosts are marching, marching in mighty
+procession to their sacramental feast of blood, as
+marches an army of famished rats to the gleaning;
+and their cry is: "Give! Give!" and they say
+not: "It is enough."
+
+"Wilt thou not be satisfied? For these men
+was I sacrificed; thou hast destroyed me that they
+might live; and behold, they march everyone on
+his ways, and they shall not break their ranks.
+
+"This is the army of Christians, the followers of
+thy God; a great people and a strong. A fire
+devoureth before them, and behind them a flame
+burneth; the land is as the garden of Eden before
+them, and behind them a desolate wilderness; yea,
+and nothing shall escape them."
+
+"Oh, yet come back, come back to me, beloved;
+for I repent me of my choice! Come back, and we
+will creep away together, to some dark and silent
+grave where the devouring army shall not find us;
+and we will lay us down there, locked in one another's
+arms, and sleep, and sleep, and sleep. And
+the hungry Christians shall pass by in the merciless
+daylight above our heads; and when they howl
+for blood to drink and for flesh to eat, their cry
+shall be faint in our ears; and they shall pass on
+their ways and leave us to our rest."
+
+And It answered yet again:
+
+"Where shall I hide me? Is it not written:
+'They shall run to and fro in the city; they shall
+run upon the wall; they shall climb up upon the
+houses; they shall enter in at the windows like a
+thief?' If I build me a tomb on the mountain-top,
+shall they not break it open? If I dig me a
+grave in the river-bed, shall they not tear it up?
+Verily, they are keen as blood-hounds to seek out
+their prey; and for them are my wounds red, that
+they may drink. Canst thou not hear them, what
+they sing?"
+
+And they sang, as they went in between the
+scarlet curtains of the Cathedral door; for the
+procession was over, and all the roses were strewn:
+
+
+       "Ave, verum Corpus, natum
+        De Maria Virgine:
+        Vere passum, immolatum
+        In cruce pro homine!
+        Cujus latus perforatum
+        Undam fluxit cum sanguinae;
+        Esto nobis praegustatum
+        Mortis in examinae."
+
+
+And when they had left off singing, he entered
+at the doorway, and passed between the silent rows
+of monks and priests, where they knelt, each man
+in his place, with the lighted candles uplifted.
+And he saw their hungry eyes fixed on the sacred
+Body that he bore; and he knew why they bowed
+their heads as he passed. For the dark stream
+ran down the folds of his white vestments; and on
+the stones of the Cathedral floor his footsteps left
+a deep, red stain.
+
+So he passed up the nave to the chancel rails;
+and there the bearers paused, and he went out
+from under the canopy and up to the altar steps.
+To left and right the white-robed acolytes knelt
+with their censers and the chaplains with their
+torches; and their eyes shone greedily in the flaring
+light as they watched the Body of the Victim.
+
+And as he stood before the altar, holding aloft
+with blood-stained hands the torn and mangled
+body of his murdered love, the voices of the guests
+bidden to the Eucharistic feast rang out in another
+peal of song:
+
+
+       "Oh salutaris Hostia,
+        Quae coeli pandis ostium;
+        Bella praemunt hostilia,
+        Da robur, fer, auxilium!"
+
+
+Ah, and now they come to take the Body----
+Go then, dear heart, to thy bitter doom, and open
+the gates of heaven for these ravening wolves that
+will not be denied. The gates that are opened for
+me are the gates of the nethermost hell.
+
+And as the deacon of honour placed the sacred
+vessel on the altar, Montanelli sank down where
+he had stood, and knelt upon the step; and from
+the white altar above him the blood flowed down
+and dripped upon his head. And the voices of the
+singers rang on, pealing under the arches and
+echoing along the vaulted roof:
+
+
+       "Uni trinoque Domino
+        Sit sempiterna gloria:
+        Qui vitam sine termino
+        Nobis donet in patria."
+
+
+"Sine termino--sine termino!" Oh, happy
+Jesus, Who could sink beneath His cross! Oh,
+happy Jesus, Who could say: "It is finished!"
+This doom is never ended; it is eternal as the stars
+in their courses. This is the worm that dieth not
+and the fire that is not quenched. "Sine termino,
+sine termino!"
+
+Wearily, patiently, he went through his part in
+the remaining ceremonies, fulfilling mechanically,
+from old habit, the rites that had no longer any
+meaning for him. Then, after the benediction, he
+knelt down again before the altar and covered his
+face; and the voice of the priest reading aloud the
+list of indulgences swelled and sank like a far-off
+murmur from a world to which he belonged no more.
+
+The voice broke off, and he stood up and
+stretched out his hand for silence. Some of the
+congregation were moving towards the doors; and
+they turned back with a hurried rustle and murmur,
+as a whisper went through the Cathedral:
+
+"His Eminence is going to speak."
+
+His ministers, startled and wondering, drew
+closer to him and one of them whispered hastily:
+"Your Eminence, do you intend to speak to the
+people now?"
+
+Montanelli silently waved him aside. The
+priests drew back, whispering together; the thing
+was unusual, even irregular; but it was within the
+Cardinal's prerogative if he chose to do it. No
+doubt, he had some statement of exceptional importance
+to make; some new reform from Rome to announce or a
+special communication from the Holy Father.
+
+Montanelli looked down from the altar-steps
+upon the sea of upturned faces. Full of eager
+expectancy they looked up at him as he stood
+above them, spectral and still and white.
+
+"Sh-sh! Silence!" the leaders of the procession
+called softly; and the murmuring of the congregation
+died into stillness, as a gust of wind dies
+among whispering tree-tops. All the crowd gazed
+up, in breathless silence, at the white figure on the
+altar-steps. Slowly and steadily he began to speak:
+
+"It is written in the Gospel according to St.
+John: 'God so loved the world, that He gave His
+only begotten Son that the world through Him
+might be saved.'
+
+"This is the festival of the Body and Blood of
+the Victim who was slain for your salvation; the
+Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the
+world; the Son of God, Who died for your transgressions.
+And you are assembled here in solemn
+festival array, to eat of the sacrifice that was given
+for you, and to render thanks for this great mercy.
+And I know that this morning, when you came to
+share in the banquet, to eat of the Body of the
+Victim, your hearts were filled with joy, as you
+remembered the Passion of God the Son, Who
+died, that you might be saved.
+
+"But tell me, which among you has thought of
+that other Passion--of the Passion of God the
+Father, Who gave His Son to be crucified?
+Which of you has remembered the agony of God
+the Father, when He bent from His throne in the
+heavens above, and looked down upon Calvary?
+
+"I have watched you to-day, my people, as you
+walked in your ranks in solemn procession; and I
+have seen that your hearts are glad within you for
+the remission of your sins, and that you rejoice in
+your salvation. Yet I pray you that you consider
+at what price that salvation was bought.
+Surely it is very precious, and the price of it is
+above rubies; it is the price of blood."
+
+A faint, long shudder passed through the listening
+crowd. In the chancel the priests bent forward
+and whispered to one another; but the preacher went
+on speaking, and they held their peace.
+
+"Therefore it is that I speak with you this day:
+I AM THAT I AM. For I looked upon your weakness
+and your sorrow, and upon the little children
+about your feet; and my heart was moved to compassion
+for their sake, that they must die. Then
+I looked into my dear son's eyes; and I knew that
+the Atonement of Blood was there. And I went
+my way, and left him to his doom.
+
+"This is the remission of sins. He died for you,
+and the darkness has swallowed him up; he is
+dead, and there is no resurrection; he is dead, and
+I have no son. Oh, my boy, my boy!"
+
+The Cardinal's voice broke in a long, wailing
+cry; and the voices of the terrified people answered
+it like an echo. All the clergy had risen
+from their places, and the deacons of honour
+started forward to lay their hands on the preacher's
+arm. But he wrenched it away, and faced them
+suddenly, with the eyes of an angry wild beast.
+
+"What is this? Is there not blood enough?
+Wait your turn, jackals; you shall all be fed!"
+
+They shrank away and huddled shivering together,
+their panting breath thick and loud, their
+faces white with the whiteness of chalk. Montanelli
+turned again to the people, and they swayed
+and shook before him, as a field of corn before
+a hurricane.
+
+"You have killed him! You have killed him!
+And I suffered it, because I would not let you die.
+And now, when you come about me with your
+lying praises and your unclean prayers, I repent
+me--I repent me that I have done this thing!
+It were better that you all should rot in your vices,
+in the bottomless filth of damnation, and that he
+should live. What is the worth of your plague-spotted
+souls, that such a price should be paid for
+them? But it is too late--too late! I cry aloud,
+but he does not hear me; I beat at the door of the
+grave, but he will not wake; I stand alone, in
+desert space, and look around me, from the blood-stained
+earth where the heart of my heart lies
+buried, to the void and awful heaven that is left
+unto me, desolate. I have given him up; oh,
+generation of vipers, I have given him up for you!
+
+"Take your salvation, since it is yours! I fling
+it to you as a bone is flung to a pack of snarling
+curs! The price of your banquet is paid for
+you; come, then, and gorge yourselves, cannibals,
+bloodsuckers--carrion beasts that feed on the
+dead! See where the blood streams down from
+the altar, foaming and hot from my darling's
+heart--the blood that was shed for you! Wallow
+and lap it and smear yourselves red with it!
+Snatch and fight for the flesh and devour it--and
+trouble me no more! This is the body that was
+given for you--look at it, torn and bleeding,
+throbbing still with the tortured life, quivering
+from the bitter death-agony; take it, Christians,
+and eat!"
+
+He had caught up the sun with the Host and
+lifted it above his head; and now flung it crashing
+down upon the floor. At the ring of the metal on
+stone the clergy rushed forward together, and
+twenty hands seized the madman.
+
+Then, and only then, the silence of the people
+broke in a wild, hysterical scream; and, overturning
+chairs and benches, beating at the doorways,
+trampling one upon another, tearing down curtains
+and garlands in their haste, the surging,
+sobbing human flood poured out upon the street.
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+"GEMMA, there's a man downstairs who wants
+to see you." Martini spoke in the subdued tone
+which they had both unconsciously adopted during
+these last ten days. That, and a certain slow
+evenness of speech and movement, were the sole
+expression which either of them gave to their grief.
+
+Gemma, with bare arms and an apron over her
+dress, was standing at a table, putting up little
+packages of cartridges for distribution. She had
+stood over the work since early morning; and
+now, in the glaring afternoon, her face looked haggard
+with fatigue.
+
+"A man, Cesare? What does he want?"
+
+"I don't know, dear. He wouldn't tell me.
+He said he must speak to you alone."
+
+"Very well." She took off her apron and
+pulled down the sleeves of her dress. "I must go
+to him, I suppose; but very likely it's only a spy."
+
+"In any case, I shall be in the next room, within
+call. As soon as you get rid of him you had better
+go and lie down a bit. You have been standing
+too long to-day."
+
+"Oh, no! I would rather go on working."
+
+She went slowly down the stairs, Martini following
+in silence. She had grown to look ten years
+older in these few days, and the gray streak across
+her hair had widened into a broad band. She
+mostly kept her eyes lowered now; but when, by
+chance, she raised them, he shivered at the horror
+in their shadows.
+
+In the little parlour she found a clumsy-looking
+man standing with his heels together in the middle
+of the floor. His whole figure and the half-frightened
+way he looked up when she came in,
+suggested to her that he must be one of the Swiss
+guards. He wore a countryman's blouse, which
+evidently did not belong to him, and kept glancing
+round as though afraid of detection.
+
+"Can you speak German?" he asked in the
+heavy Zurich patois.
+
+"A little. I hear you want to see me."
+
+"You are Signora Bolla? I've brought you a
+letter."
+
+"A--letter?" She was beginning to tremble,
+and rested one hand on the table to steady herself.
+
+"I'm one of the guard over there." He
+pointed out of the window to the fortress on the
+hill. "It's from--the man that was shot last
+week. He wrote it the night before. I promised
+him I'd give it into your own hand myself."
+
+She bent her head down. So he had written
+after all.
+
+"That's why I've been so long bringing it," the
+soldier went on. "He said I was not to give it to
+anyone but you, and I couldn't get off before--
+they watched me so. I had to borrow these
+things to come in."
+
+He was fumbling in the breast of his blouse.
+The weather was hot, and the sheet of folded
+paper that he pulled out was not only dirty and
+crumpled, but damp. He stood for a moment
+shuffling his feet uneasily; then put up one hand
+and scratched the back of his head.
+
+"You won't say anything," he began again
+timidly, with a distrustful glance at her. "It's as
+much as my life's worth to have come here."
+
+"Of course I shall not say anything. No,
+wait a minute----"
+
+As he turned to go, she stopped him, feeling for
+her purse; but he drew back, offended.
+
+"I don't want your money," he said roughly.
+"I did it for him--because he asked me to. I'd
+have done more than that for him. He'd been
+good to me--God help me!"
+
+The little catch in his voice made her look up.
+He was slowly rubbing a grimy sleeve across his
+eyes.
+
+"We had to shoot," he went on under his
+breath; "my mates and I. A man must obey
+orders. We bungled it, and had to fire again--
+and he laughed at us--he called us the awkward
+squad--and he'd been good to me----"
+
+There was silence in the room. A moment
+later he straightened himself up, made a clumsy
+military salute, and went away.
+
+She stood still for a little while with the paper
+in her hand; then sat down by the open window
+to read. The letter was closely written in pencil,
+and in some parts hardly legible. But the first
+two words stood out quite clear upon the page;
+and they were in English:
+
+"Dear Jim."
+
+The writing grew suddenly blurred and misty.
+And she had lost him again--had lost him again!
+At the sight of the familiar childish nickname all
+the hopelessness of her bereavement came over
+her afresh, and she put out her hands in blind
+desperation, as though the weight of the earth-clods
+that lay above him were pressing on her heart.
+
+Presently she took up the paper again and went
+on reading:
+
+
+"I am to be shot at sunrise to-morrow. So
+if I am to keep at all my promise to tell you everything,
+I must keep it now. But, after all, there is
+not much need of explanations between you and
+me. We always understood each other without
+many words, even when we were little things.
+
+"And so, you see, my dear, you had no need to
+break your heart over that old story of the blow.
+It was a hard hit, of course; but I have had plenty
+of others as hard, and yet I have managed to get
+over them,--even to pay back a few of them,--and
+here I am still, like the mackerel in our nursery-book
+(I forget its name), 'Alive and kicking,
+oh!' This is my last kick, though; and then, to-morrow
+morning, and--'Finita la Commedia!'
+You and I will translate that: 'The variety show
+is over'; and will give thanks to the gods that
+they have had, at least, so much mercy on us. It
+is not much, but it is something; and for this and
+all other blessings may we be truly thankful!
+
+"About that same to-morrow morning, I want
+both you and Martini to understand clearly that
+I am quite happy and satisfied, and could ask
+no better thing of Fate. Tell that to Martini
+as a message from me; he is a good fellow and a
+good comrade, and he will understand. You see,
+dear, I know that the stick-in-the-mud people are
+doing us a good turn and themselves a bad one
+by going back to secret trials and executions so
+soon, and I know that if you who are left stand
+together steadily and hit hard, you will see great
+things. As for me, I shall go out into the courtyard
+with as light a heart as any child starting
+home for the holidays. I have done my share of
+the work, and this death-sentence is the proof that
+I have done it thoroughly. They kill me because
+they are afraid of me; and what more can any man's
+heart desire?
+
+"It desires just one thing more, though. A man
+who is going to die has a right to a personal fancy,
+and mine is that you should see why I have always
+been such a sulky brute to you, and so slow to forget
+old scores. Of course, though, you understand
+why, and I tell you only for the pleasure of
+writing the words. I loved you, Gemma, when you
+were an ugly little girl in a gingham frock, with a
+scratchy tucker and your hair in a pig-tail down
+your back; and I love you still. Do you remember
+that day when I kissed your hand, and when
+you so piteously begged me 'never to do that
+again'? It was a scoundrelly trick to play, I know;
+but you must forgive that; and now I kiss the
+paper where I have written your name. So I have
+kissed you twice, and both times without your
+consent.
+
+"That is all. Good-bye, my dear."
+
+
+There was no signature, but a verse which they
+had learned together as children was written
+under the letter:
+
+
+                "Then am I
+                 A happy fly,
+                 If I live
+                 Or if I die."
+
+      .      .      .      .      .
+
+Half an hour later Martini entered the room,
+and, startled out of the silence of half a life-time,
+threw down the placard he was carrying and flung
+his arms about her.
+
+"Gemma! What is it, for God's sake? Don't
+sob like that--you that never cry! Gemma!
+Gemma, my darling!"
+
+"Nothing, Cesare; I will tell you afterwards--I
+--can't talk about it just now."
+
+She hurriedly slipped the tear-stained letter into
+her pocket; and, rising, leaned out of the window
+to hide her face. Martini held his tongue and bit
+his moustache. After all these years he had betrayed
+himself like a schoolboy--and she had not
+even noticed it!
+
+"The Cathedral bell is tolling," she said after
+a little while, looking round with recovered self-command.
+"Someone must be dead."
+
+"That is what I came to show you," Martini
+answered in his everyday voice. He picked up the
+placard from the floor and handed it to her.
+Hastily printed in large type was a black-bordered
+announcement that: "Our dearly beloved Bishop,
+His Eminence the Cardinal, Monsignor Lorenzo
+Montanelli," had died suddenly at Ravenna, "from
+the rupture of an aneurism of the heart."
+
+She glanced up quickly from the paper, and
+Martini answered the unspoken suggestion in her
+eyes with a shrug of his shoulders.
+
+"What would you have, Madonna? Aneurism
+is as good a word as any other."
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Gadfly, by E. L. Voynich
+
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