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diff --git a/3431-h/3431-h.htm b/3431-h/3431-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..43a5a1c --- /dev/null +++ b/3431-h/3431-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15936 @@ +<?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> + “What have we to do with Thee, Thou Jesus of Nazareth?” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “No, Padre, I must find it; I'm sure you put it here. You will never make + it the same by rewriting.” + </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: “Fragola! fragola!” + </p> + <p> + “'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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “I had better go now,” he said when the passage had been cleared up; + “unless you want me for anything.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to work any more, but I should like you to stay a bit if you + have time.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You are looking tired, carino,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I can't help it.” There was a weary sound in Arthur's voice, and the + Padre noticed it at once. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Julia was his eldest step-brother's wife, and a thorn in his side. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “What is it then, my son?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur pulled off some blossoms from a drooping foxglove stem and crushed + them nervously in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </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> + “My God!” he thought; “how small and selfish I am beside him! If my + trouble were his own he couldn't feel it more.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where shall you go when the seminary closes, Padre?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think Mr. Burton would allow it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The rebuke was so gently given that Arthur hardly coloured under it. “Yes, + I know,” he answered, sighing; “but it is so difficult——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I had promised one of the students to go to a meeting at his lodgings, + and they would have been expecting me.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of meeting?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he lecture about?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur hesitated. “You won't ask me his name, Padre, will you? Because I + promised——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “To help whom?” + </p> + <p> + “The contadini—and——” + </p> + <p> + “And?” + </p> + <p> + “Italy.” + </p> + <p> + There was a long silence. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Arthur,” said Montanelli, turning to him and speaking very + gravely, “how long have you been thinking about this?” + </p> + <p> + “Since—last winter.” + </p> + <p> + “Before your mother's death? And did she know of it?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no. I—I didn't care about it then.” + </p> + <p> + “And now you—care about it?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur pulled another handful of bells off the foxglove. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ask Him?” Montanelli's voice was not quite steady. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you never said a word to me. Arthur, I hoped you could have trusted + me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “And then?” he asked slowly. + </p> + <p> + “And then—she died. You know, I had been up the last three nights + with her——” + </p> + <p> + He broke off and paused a moment, but Montanelli did not move. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I remember.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur stood up and answered slowly, as though repeating a catechism: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur, think a moment what you are saying! You are not even an Italian.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes no difference; I am myself. I have seen this thing, and I + belong to it.” + </p> + <p> + There was silence again. + </p> + <p> + “You spoke just now of what Christ would have said——” + Montanelli began slowly; but Arthur interrupted him: + </p> + <p> + “Christ said: 'He that loseth his life for my sake shall find it.'” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli leaned his arm against a branch, and shaded his eyes with one + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down a moment, my son,” he said at last. + </p> + <p> + Arthur sat down, and the Padre took both his hands in a strong and steady + clasp. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Padre——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will think—and—Padre, pray for me, and for Italy.” + </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> + “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.'” + </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 + “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. + </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> + “You don't like it, carino?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “But, Padre, you wanted to stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “If it is really the same to you, I should like to follow the river back + to its source.” + </p> + <p> + “The Rhone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, the Arve; it runs so fast.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we will go to Chamonix.” + </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. “It is so much in earnest,” 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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli sighed. + </p> + <p> + “I used to see those things once.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you never see them now?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you see?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + “Padre!” Arthur rose, shuddering, and drew back from the precipice. “It is + like hell.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my son,” Montanelli answered softly, “it is only like a human soul.” + </p> + <p> + “The souls of them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death?” + </p> + <p> + “The souls of them that pass you day by day in the street.” + </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> + “Look!” Arthur said suddenly. “The people that walked in darkness have + seen a great light.” + </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> + “Come in, carino; all the light is gone. We shall lose our way in the dark + if we stay any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “It is like a corpse,” 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> + “Oh, Padre, do come and look at this absurd dog! It can dance on its hind + legs.” + </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. “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!” + </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 “to help Gaspard drive up + the goats.” + </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> + “Where have you been, you madcap? Scampering all over the mountains + without any breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Padre, it was so jolly! The mountains look perfectly glorious at + sunrise; and the dew is so thick! Just look!” + </p> + <p> + He lifted for inspection a wet and muddy boot. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He had sat down with the child on his knee, and was helping her to put the + flowers in order. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </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 + “monsieur” might admire the wriggling legs. + </p> + <p> + “Look, monsieur!” she was saying gravely in her half-intelligible patois: + “Look at Caroline's boots!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” + </p> + <p> + The word was uttered in a hasty whisper that seemed to deepen the ensuing + silence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “His—who?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you dunder-headed, go-to-meeting Methodist! Don't you know a + Catholic priest when you see one?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked out across the water, listened quietly, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I want to know, if you will tell me,” Montanelli went on; “whether you + have bound yourself by a vow, or—in any way.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to tell, dear Padre; I have not bound myself, but I am + bound.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand———” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean, then, that this thing—this—feeling is quite + irrevocable? Arthur, have you thought what you are saying?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur turned round and looked straight into Montanelli's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli picked a rose from the bush, pulled off the petals one by one, + and tossed them into the water. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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 “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. + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it anything important? I have an engagement for this evening; but I + will miss it if———” + </p> + <p> + “No; to-morrow will do. I want to see you because I am going away on + Tuesday. I have been sent for to Rome.” + </p> + <p> + “To Rome? For long?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Padre, surely you are not giving up the seminary?” + </p> + <p> + “It will have to be so; but I shall probably come back to Pisa, for some + time at least.” + </p> + <p> + “But why are you giving it up?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is not yet officially announced; but I am offered a bishopric.” + </p> + <p> + “Padre! Where?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And is the new Director chosen yet?” + </p> + <p> + “Father Cardi has been nominated and arrives here to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not that rather sudden?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but——The decisions of the Vatican are sometimes not + communicated till the last moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know the new Director?” + </p> + <p> + “Not personally; but he is very highly spoken of. Monsignor Belloni, who + writes, says that he is a man of great erudition.” + </p> + <p> + “The seminary will miss you terribly.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall indeed; but I am very glad, for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can stay a bit. I am due at six.” + </p> + <p> + “One of your meetings?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur nodded; and Montanelli changed the subject hastily. + </p> + <p> + “I want to speak to you about yourself,” he said. “You will need another + confessor in my absence.” + </p> + <p> + “When you come back I may go on confessing to you, may I not?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well.” + </p> + <p> + They talked of other matters for a little while; then Arthur rose. + </p> + <p> + “I must go, Padre; the students will be waiting for me.” + </p> + <p> + The haggard look came back to Montanelli's face. + </p> + <p> + “Already? You had almost charmed away my black mood. Well, good-bye.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye. I will be sure to come to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no need, Padre; everything is quite quiet. It will be a long + time yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” 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 “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.) + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head with a start. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur! Oh, I didn't know you—belonged here!” + </p> + <p> + “And I had no idea about you. Jim, since when have you——?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course.” Bini was the organizer of the Leghorn branch; and all + Young Italy knew him. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't often hear from home now.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Let me walk with you, Jim. Where are you staying?” + </p> + <p> + “With Marietta.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father's old housekeeper?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; she lives a good way from here.” + </p> + <p> + They walked for some time in silence. Then Arthur said suddenly: + </p> + <p> + “You are seventeen, now, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I was seventeen in October.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So have I.” + </p> + <p> + “You said you had done things for Bini; I didn't know you even knew him.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't for Bini; it was for the other one.” + </p> + <p> + “Which other one?” + </p> + <p> + “The one that was talking to me to-night—Bolla.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I know him pretty well; and I like him very much. He has been staying in + Leghorn.” + </p> + <p> + “I know; he went there in November———” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! not so loud, dear! So it was in your house the books from + Marseilles were hidden?” + </p> + <p> + “Only for one day. Oh! perhaps I oughtn't to have told you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Padre! Surely he——” + </p> + <p> + “No; he thinks differently. But I have sometimes fancied—that is—hoped—I + don't know——” + </p> + <p> + “But, Arthur! he's a priest.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “A priest is a teacher of Christianity, and the greatest of all + revolutionists was Christ.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, I was talking about priests to father the other day, and he + said——” + </p> + <p> + “Gemma, your father is a Protestant.” + </p> + <p> + After a little pause she looked round at him frankly. + </p> + <p> + “Look here, we had better leave this subject alone. You are always + intolerant when you talk about Protestants.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean to be intolerant. But I think Protestants are generally + intolerant when they talk about priests.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it's late. Good-night, dear!” + </p> + <p> + He was standing on the doorstep, clasping her hand in both of his. + </p> + <p> + “For God and the people——” + </p> + <p> + Slowly and gravely she completed the unfinished motto: + </p> + <p> + “Now and forever.” + </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—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—— + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I was much interested.” 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> + “Arthur, my dear boy,” he began slowly; “I have something to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “He must have had bad news,” flashed through Arthur's mind, as he looked + anxiously at the haggard face. There was a long pause. + </p> + <p> + “How do you like the new Director?” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli sat beating his hand gently on the arm of his chair; a habit + with him when anxious or perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Padre! But the Vatican———” + </p> + <p> + “The Vatican will find someone else. I can send apologies.” + </p> + <p> + “But why? I can't understand.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli drew one hand across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “I am anxious about you. Things keep coming into my head—and after + all, there is no need for me to go———” + </p> + <p> + “But the bishopric——” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Arthur! what shall it profit me if I gain a bishopric and lose——” + </p> + <p> + He broke off. Arthur had never seen him like this before, and was greatly + troubled. + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand,” he said. “Padre, if you could explain to me more—more + definitely, what it is you think———” + </p> + <p> + “I think nothing; I am haunted with a horrible fear. Tell me, is there any + special danger?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + This kind of morbid fancifulness was so foreign to Montanelli's character + that Arthur looked at him with grave anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” Montanelli interrupted, as if tired of the subject; “I will + start by the early coach to-morrow morning.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked at him, wondering. + </p> + <p> + “You had something to tell me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; nothing more—nothing of any consequence.” 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> + “Ah, Mr. Burton!” exclaimed the Director; “the very person I wanted. + Please come in and help me out of a difficulty.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The catalogue is imperfect; many of the best books have been added to the + collection lately.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you spare half an hour to explain the arrangement to me?” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “For about seven years. He came back from China when I was twelve years + old.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes! It was there that he gained his reputation as a missionary + preacher. Have you been his pupil ever since?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; my father died when I was a child, and my mother a year ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you brothers and sisters?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I have step-brothers; but they were business men when I was in the + nursery.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought of going to one of the fathers of Santa Caterina, if they have + not too many penitents.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you confess to me?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur opened his eyes in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Reverend Father, of course I—should be glad; only——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If you put it that way, of course I shall be very grateful for your + guidance.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “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.” + </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, + “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. + </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. “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.” + </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—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—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! + </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> + “My father, I accuse myself of the sins of jealousy and anger, and of + unworthy thoughts against one who has done me no wrong.” + </p> + <p> + Farther Cardi knew quite well with what kind of penitent he had to deal. + He only said softly: + </p> + <p> + “You have not told me all, my son.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, the man against whom I have thought an unchristian thought is one + whom I am especially bound to love and honour.” + </p> + <p> + “One to whom you are bound by ties of blood?” + </p> + <p> + “By a still closer tie.” + </p> + <p> + “By what tie, my son?” + </p> + <p> + “By that of comradeship.” + </p> + <p> + “Comradeship in what?” + </p> + <p> + “In a great and holy work.” + </p> + <p> + A little pause. + </p> + <p> + “And your anger against this—comrade, your jealousy of him, was + called forth by his success in that work being greater than yours?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And this girl that you love, is she a daughter of the Holy Church?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she is a Protestant.” + </p> + <p> + “A heretic?” + </p> + <p> + 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——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, I——” He faltered and broke off again. + </p> + <p> + The priest waited silently. + </p> + <p> + “I envied him because the society—the Young Italy—that I + belong to———” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Intrusted him with a work that I had hoped—would be given to me, + that I had thought myself—specially adapted for.” + </p> + <p> + “What work?” + </p> + <p> + “The taking in of books—political books—from the steamers that + bring them—and finding a hiding place for them—in the town———” + </p> + <p> + “And this work was given by the party to your rival?” + </p> + <p> + “To Bolla—and I envied him.” + </p> + <p> + “And he gave you no cause for this feeling? You do not accuse him of + having neglected the mission intrusted to him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, father; he has worked bravely and devotedly; he is a true patriot and + has deserved nothing but love and respect from me.” + </p> + <p> + Father Cardi pondered. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + After a long silence, Arthur whispered tremulously: + </p> + <p> + “And Italy shall be His Temple when they are driven out——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped; and the soft answer came back: + </p> + <p> + “'The earth and the fulness thereof are mine, saith the Lord.'” + </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—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——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. + </p> + <p> + “Good-evening, Gibbons; are my brothers in?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Thomas is in, sir; and Mrs. Burton. They are in the drawing room.” + </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—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> + “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.” + </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> + “I won't come to dinner, Julia. If you'll excuse me I will go to my room.” + </p> + <p> + “You're overdoing that fasting, my boy,” said Thomas; “I am sure you'll + make yourself ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! Good-night.” + </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> + “The signorino is going to church?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Good-night, Teresa.” + </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. “Ah, + Teresa!” he thought, turning over lazily. The knock was repeated, and he + awoke with a violent start. + </p> + <p> + “Signorino! signorino!” cried a man's voice in Italian; “get up for the + love of God!” + </p> + <p> + Arthur jumped out of bed. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter? Who is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's I, Gian Battista. Get up, quick, for Our Lady's sake!” + </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> + “For me?” he asked coolly. + </p> + <p> + “For you! Oh, signorino, make haste! What have you to hide? See, I can put——” + </p> + <p> + “I have nothing to hide. Do my brothers know?” + </p> + <p> + The first uniform appeared at the turn of the passage. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming to the + ark! Here comes a pair of very strange beasts!” + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “I say; this is an infernally awkward business. I'm very sorry about it.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “With money! Why, no! What could it have to do——” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, but it is forbidden to leave a prisoner alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, it doesn't matter.” + </p> + <p> + He went into the alcove, and, kneeling down, kissed the feet and pedestal + of the crucifix, whispering softly: “Lord, keep me faithful unto death.” + </p> + <p> + When he rose, the officer was standing by the table, examining + Montanelli's portrait. “Is this a relative of yours?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No; it is my confessor, the new Bishop of Brisighella.” + </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> + “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!” + </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: “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. + </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> + “And now, Mr. Burton, what do you know about Young Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have read this paper, I think?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I am interested in the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “When you read it you realized that you were committing an illegal + action?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get the copies which were found in your room?” + </p> + <p> + “That I cannot tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Burton, you must not say 'I cannot tell' here; you are bound to + answer my questions.” + </p> + <p> + “I will not, then, if you object to 'cannot.'” + </p> + <p> + “You will regret it if you permit yourself to use such expressions,” + remarked the colonel. As Arthur made no reply, he went on: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no desire to screen myself. What is it you want to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Firstly, how did you, a foreigner, come to be implicated in matters of + this kind?” + </p> + <p> + “I thought about the subject and read everything I could get hold of, and + formed my own conclusions.” + </p> + <p> + “Who persuaded you to join this society?” + </p> + <p> + “No one; I wished to join it.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Silence. + </p> + <p> + “Will you have the kindness to answer me?” + </p> + <p> + “Not when you ask questions of that kind.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I know no one of that name.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Giovanni Bolla? Surely you know him—a tall young fellow, + closely shaven. Why, he is one of your fellow-students.” + </p> + <p> + “There are many students in the university whom I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you must know Bolla, surely! Look, this is his handwriting. You + see, he knows you well enough.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you may as well; it concerns you.” + </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 + “Among those who joined us was a young Englishman, Arthur Burton, who + belongs to one of the rich shipowning families.” + </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—Bolla, who + had converted Gemma—who was in love with her! He laid down the paper + and stared at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “I hope that little document has refreshed your memory?” hinted the + colonel politely. + </p> + <p> + Arthur shook his head. “I know no one of that name,” he repeated in a + dull, hard voice. “There must be some mistake.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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. + </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> + “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. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “There, he'll be all right now,” said a cheerful voice; “they most of them + go off this way coming out into the air.” + </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> + “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?” + </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> + “Sit down, Mr. Burton, and drink some water; you are excited.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur spoke in a hard, sullen voice, quite different from his natural + tone. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I never met him in my life. I know nothing whatever about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Really? Well, we will return to that subject presently. I think you know + a young man named Carlo Bini?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of such a person.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very extraordinary. What about Francesco Neri?” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard the name.” + </p> + <p> + “But here is a letter in your handwriting, addressed to him. Look!” + </p> + <p> + Arthur glanced carelessly at the letter and laid it aside. + </p> + <p> + “Do you recognize that letter?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “You deny that it is in your writing?” + </p> + <p> + “I deny nothing. I have no recollection of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps you remember this one?” + </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> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor the person to whom it is addressed?” + </p> + <p> + “Nor the person.” + </p> + <p> + “Your memory is singularly short.” + </p> + <p> + “It is a defect from which I have always suffered.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed! And I heard the other day from a university professor that you + are considered by no means deficient; rather clever in fact.” + </p> + <p> + “You probably judge of cleverness by the police-spy standard; university + professors use words in a different sense.” + </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> + “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?” + </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> + “I am waiting for your answer,” said the colonel. + </p> + <p> + “I have no answer to give.” + </p> + <p> + “You positively refuse to answer?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you nothing at all.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “Why, Enrico!” he exclaimed; “what on earth is wrong with you to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Enrico snappishly; and, going up to the pallet, he began + pulling off the rug, which was Arthur's property. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want with my things? Am I to be moved into another cell?” + </p> + <p> + “No; you're to be let out.” + </p> + <p> + “Let out? What—to-day? For altogether? Enrico!” + </p> + <p> + In his excitement Arthur had caught hold of the old man's arm. It was + angrily wrenched away. + </p> + <p> + “Enrico! What has come to you? Why don't you answer? Are we all going to + be let out?” + </p> + <p> + A contemptuous grunt was the only reply. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Which others?” growled Enrico, suddenly laying down the shirt he was + folding. “Not Bolla, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Bolla and all the rest, of course. Enrico, what is the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Betrayed him? A comrade? Oh, how dreadful!” Arthur's eyes dilated with + horror. Enrico turned quickly round. + </p> + <p> + “Why, wasn't it you?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Are you off your head, man? I?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Then it really isn't true?” Enrico stopped at the foot of the stairs and + looked searchingly at Arthur, who merely shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it's a lie.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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? + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie!” This time Arthur's voice had risen to a stifled cry. + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur went up to him. “I want to know,” he said in a dull voice, “who it + was that betrayed me.” + </p> + <p> + The colonel raised his eyebrows with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you guess? Think a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur shook his head. The colonel put out both hands with a gesture of + polite surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Can't guess? Really? Why, you yourself, Mr. Burton. Who else could know + your private love affairs?” + </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> + “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!” + </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> + “Arthur! Oh, I'm so glad—I'm so glad!” + </p> + <p> + He drew his hands away, shivering. + </p> + <p> + “Jim!” he said at last, in a voice that did not seem to belong to him. + “Jim!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “Arthur!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What business?” he asked in the same dull voice. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, about Bolla's letter.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur's face contracted painfully at the name. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Such a thing——?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Gemma! But it's—it's true!” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He came to himself suddenly, realizing her presence and the mortal terror + in her face. Yes, of course, she must think——— + </p> + <p> + “Gemma, you don't understand!” he burst out, moving nearer; but she + recoiled with a sharp cry: + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me!” + </p> + <p> + Arthur seized her right hand with sudden violence. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, for God's sake! It was not my fault; I——” + </p> + <p> + “Let go; let my hand go! Let go!” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked at his watch; it was nine o'clock. Oh, yes! he would have + time—plenty of time——— + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want anything, thank you; you can tell her I have not gone to + bed.” + </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—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—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. + </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. “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. + </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> + “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> + “L. M.” + </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—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—the very middle of the brain seemed to ache; it was all so + dull and stupid—so utterly meaningless—— + </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—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——— + </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—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> + “Arthur!” + </p> + <p> + He stood up, panting. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur, open the door, please; we are waiting.” + </p> + <p> + He gathered up the torn counterpane, threw it into a drawer, and hastily + smoothed down the bed. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur!” This time it was James who called, and the door-handle was + shaken impatiently. “Are you asleep?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked round the room, saw that everything was hidden, and unlocked + the door. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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——” + </p> + <p> + “I can't listen to-night; I—I'm not well. My head aches—you + must wait.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur spoke in a strange, indistinct voice, with a confused and rambling + manner. James looked round in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Burton coughed, cleared his throat, smoothed his already immaculate + beard, and began the carefully prepared speech over again: + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” Arthur said again. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Arthur's eyes wandered slowly to his mother's portrait and back again, but + he did not speak. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” Arthur repeated once more. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You will do as you think best, of course,” he answered slowly, without + moving. “It doesn't matter much either way.” + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't—matter?” James repeated, aghast; and his wife rose with a + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, hush! Never mind that, my dear!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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: “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced up at her husband; then back at Arthur, who was silently + staring at the floor. + </p> + <p> + “He seems half stupid,” 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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped to see what effect the kindly words had produced; but Arthur + was quite motionless. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + Arthur looked up. All the life and expression had gone out of his face; it + was like a waxen mask. + </p> + <p> + “D-don't you think,” he said softly, with a curious stammering hesitation + on the words, “th-that—all this—is—v-very—funny?” + </p> + <p> + “FUNNY?” James pushed his chair away from the table, and sat staring at + him, too much petrified for anger. “Funny! Arthur, are you mad?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur suddenly threw back his head, and burst into a frantic fit of + laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Arthur!” exclaimed the shipowner, rising with dignity, “I am amazed at + your levity!” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </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. “So easy!” he said, and turned away. “And what + an idiot I am!” + </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—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. + </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—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—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! + </p> + <p> + Taking a sheet of paper, he wrote the first words that occurred to him: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “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. + </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> + “I want to speak to you,” Arthur said in Italian. “Do you understand me?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Just come out of the light here a minute; I want to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! wouldn't you like it? Out of the light! Got a knife anywhere about + you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, man! Can't you see I only want your help? I'll pay you for it?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, returning to his atrocious French; “and what is it you + want?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to get away from here——” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed in his tipsy way, and winked one eye. + </p> + <p> + “What vessel do you belong to?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Buenos Ayres—yes! Can you hide me anywhere on board?” + </p> + <p> + “How much can you give?” + </p> + <p> + “Not very much; I have only a few paoli.” + </p> + <p> + “No. Can't do it under fifty—and cheap at that, too—a swell + like you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a watch there. Hand it over.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” remarked the sailor with a quick glance at it. “Stolen, of course! + Let me look!” + </p> + <p> + Arthur drew his hand away. “No,” he said. “I will give you the watch when + we are on board; not before.” + </p> + <p> + “You're not such a fool as you look, after all! I'll bet it's your first + scrape, though, eh?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my business. Ah! there comes the watchman.” + </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> + “Wait here; those soldier fellows will see you if you come further.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Get you some clothes. I'm not going to take you on board with that bloody + coatsleeve.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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. + </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—— + </p> + <p> + He laughed softly as he lay in the bottom of the boat. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your noise,” the sailor whispered, “and keep your head covered! + We're close to the custom house.” + </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> + “Passports, please.” + </p> + <p> + The sailor handed up his official papers. Arthur, half stifled under the + clothes, held his breath, listening. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Old clothes. Got them cheap.” He held up the waistcoat for inspection. + The official, lowering his lantern, bent over, straining his eyes to see. + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, I suppose. You can pass.” + </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> + “Here she is,” the sailor whispered, after rowing for some time in + silence. “Keep close behind me and hold your tongue.” + </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> + “Down here!” he whispered. “I'll be back in a minute.” + </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 “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. + </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> + “Now, give me the watch and money. Make haste!” + </p> + <p> + Taking advantage of the darkness, Arthur succeeded in keeping back a few + coins. + </p> + <p> + “You must get me something to eat,” he said; “I am half starved.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what would you have us do?” + </p> + <p> + “Petition.” + </p> + <p> + “To the Grand Duke?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for an augmentation of the liberty of the press.” + </p> + <p> + A keen-looking, dark man sitting by the window turned his head round with + a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Fortunately,” remarked the Piedmontese, “Neapolitan vehemence is peculiar + to Naples.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply because the pamphlets will put the government into a state of mind + in which it won't grant the petitions,” said Grassini. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That's easier said than done; how are you going to start?” + </p> + <p> + “Fancy asking Galli that! Of course he'd start by knocking the censor on + the head.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you propose, then? Sh! Attention, gentlemen! Galli has a + proposal to make.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sure His Holiness ought to feel flattered——” Grassini + began contemptuously. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That's likely enough.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell us first what blow you propose?” + </p> + <p> + “I would suggest that we start an organized propaganda and agitation + against the Jesuits.” + </p> + <p> + “A pamphleteering declaration of war, in fact?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; exposing their intrigues, ferreting out their secrets, and calling + upon the people to make common cause against them.” + </p> + <p> + “But there are no Jesuits here to expose.” + </p> + <p> + “Aren't there? Wait three months and see how many we shall have. It'll be + too late to keep them out then.” + </p> + <p> + “But really to rouse the town against the Jesuits one must speak plainly; + and if you do that how will you evade the censorship?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't evade it; I would defy it.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “I did not mean that. I would print the pamphlets openly, with our names + and addresses, and let them prosecute us if they dare.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you needn't be afraid!” Galli cut in sharply; “we shouldn't ask you + to go to prison for our pamphlets.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I think we might contrive, with care, to fight the Jesuits without coming + into collision with the censorship.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see how you are going to manage it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think that it is possible to clothe what one has to say in so + roundabout a form that——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Martini, what do you think?” asked the professor, turning to a + broad-shouldered man with a great brown beard, who was sitting beside him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Sacconi?” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to hear what Signora Bolla has to say. Her suggestions are + always valuable.” + </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> + “I am afraid,” she said; “that I disagree with everybody.” + </p> + <p> + “You always do, and the worst of it is that you are always right,” + Riccardo put in. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, signora,” Grassini interposed, with a solemn face; “that you are + not suggesting such methods as—assassination?” + </p> + <p> + Martini tugged at his big moustache and Galli sniggered outright. Even the + grave young woman could not repress a smile. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “So was Athens,” she interrupted, smiling; “but it was 'rather sluggish + from its size and needed a gadfly to rouse it'——” + </p> + <p> + Riccardo struck his hand upon the table. “Why, we never thought of the + Gadfly! The very man!” + </p> + <p> + “Who is that?” + </p> + <p> + “The Gadfly—Felice Rivarez. Don't you remember him? One of + Muratori's band that came down from the Apennines three years ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you knew that set, didn't you? I remember your travelling with them + when they went on to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What name did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the man who writes political skits in the French papers under the + name of 'Le Taon'?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “It's an extraordinary thing that he can have managed to deceive the + search-party with such a formidable list of identification marks.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then will you write, Riccardo?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </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> + “I will see you home, Gemma.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks; I want to have a business talk with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything wrong with the addresses?” he asked softly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I will come in about that to-morrow. I am not going to talk business with + you to-night; you look tired.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not tired.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are depressed again.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; not particularly.” + </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> + “Is the mistress in, Katie?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; she is dressing. If you'll just step into the parlour she will + be down in a few minutes.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “How snug you look, you two!” said Gemma, coming into the room. “One would + think you had settled yourselves for the evening.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I promised you I would wear it, though it is rather warm for a hot + evening like this.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, those lovely cluster roses; I am so fond of them! But they had much + better go into water. I hate to wear flowers.” + </p> + <p> + “Now that's one of your superstitious fancies.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it isn't; only I think they must get so bored, spending all the + evening pinned to such a dull companion.” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid we shall all be bored to-night. The conversazione will be + dull beyond endurance.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly because everything Grassini touches becomes as dull as himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Now don't be spiteful. It is not fair when we are going to be a man's + guests.” + </p> + <p> + “You are always right, Madonna. Well then, it will be dull because half + the interesting people are not coming.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The new satirist? What, Rivarez? But I thought Grassini disapproved of + him so strongly.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not even know he had come.” + </p> + <p> + “He only arrived yesterday. Here comes the tea. No, don't get up; let me + fetch the kettle.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that there is really a ballet-girl, or simply that you feel + cross and want to imitate the sharp speeches?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's only fair if he has taken her away from her home.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How can they know it unless he tells them so?” + </p> + <p> + “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'.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That's true, of course. It's time to start, Cesare. Yes, I will wear the + roses. Wait just a minute.” + </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> + “You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like the great and wise Queen of + Sheba.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 “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. + </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> + “English, did you say?” it asked. “But surely the name is quite Italian. + What was it—Bolla?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And then he died in England, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You have found a d-d-delightful little nook here,” he remarked, looking + at the thick screen; “and w-w-what a charming view!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; it's a pretty corner. I came out here to get some air.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “And such patriotic women!” 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> + “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?” + </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 “notre + malheureuse patrie,” interpolated with “charmant” and “mon prince,” 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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She frowned slightly and made no answer. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she answered coldly, “that we can hold our personal opinions + without ridiculing a woman whose guests we are.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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 (“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). + </p> + <p> + “I hear,” he said, “that you are interested in the radical press, and + write for the papers.” + </p> + <p> + “I write a little; I have not time to do much.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, of course! I understood from Signora Grassini that you undertake + other important work as well.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “I think I will go in now. Is that my scarf? Thank you.” + </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> + “I know you are offended with me,” he said penitently, “for fooling that + painted-up wax doll; but what can a fellow do?” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </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> + “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?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “About the ballet-girl, you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he persuaded her the girl was going to be the lion of the season. + Signora Grassini would do anything for a celebrity.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You had a talk with him, didn't you? What did you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him alone, Cesare; it isn't of any consequence, and after all, it's + as much my fault as his.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your fault?” + </p> + <p> + “That he dislikes me so. I said a brutal thing to him when we first met, + that night at the Grassinis'.” + </p> + <p> + “YOU said a brutal thing? That's hard to believe, Madonna.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “What principle? The temporal power of the Pope?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + He pulled it out of his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Another new pamphlet?” + </p> + <p> + “A stupid thing this wretched man Rivarez sent in to yesterday's + committee. I knew we should come to loggerheads with him before long.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with it? Honestly, Cesare, I think you are a little + prejudiced. Rivarez may be unpleasant, but he's not stupid.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't deny that this is clever enough in its way; but you had + better read the thing yourself.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Gemma!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Then do you suggest that we should print it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Gemma! The very worst bit in the whole thing! I hate that ill-natured + yelping at everything and everybody!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “What I have come here about: to ask you to go and talk it over with him + and persuade him to soften the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Me? But I hardly know the man; and besides that, he detests me. Why + should I go, of all people?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't do that, certainly. Well, I will go if you like, though I have + not much hope of success.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “The committee wished me to call upon you,” she began, “because there has + been a certain difference of opinion about your pamphlet.” + </p> + <p> + “So I expected.” He smiled and sat down opposite to her, drawing a large + vase of chrysanthemums between his face and the light. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That I quite understand. The question is whether you may not succeed in + giving offence to the wrong people.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Montanelli?” Gemma repeated. “I don't understand you. Do you mean the + Bishop of Brisighella?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The Papal frontier?” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “'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——'” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, paused a moment, and began again, very slowly and drawling + insufferably, but no longer stammering: + </p> + <p> + “'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.'” + </p> + <p> + He laid down the letter and sat looking at her with half-shut eyes, + waiting, apparently, for her to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Are you satisfied that your informant is correct in his facts?” she asked + after a moment. + </p> + <p> + “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—— + </p> + <p> + “I was not speaking of that,” she interposed coldly, “but of the part + about this mission.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You are asking my personal opinion. What I have come here to express is + that of the committee as a whole.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is———” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you wait a minute while I look through the manuscript?” + </p> + <p> + He took it up and glanced down the pages. A dissatisfied frown settled on + his face. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think spitefulness manages to be dull when we get too much of + it?” + </p> + <p> + He threw a keen, rapid glance at her, and burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </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. “What an unsteady hand he has,” she thought, seeing + how the flowers shook and quivered. “Surely he doesn't drink!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” 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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly raised his head from the flowers, and looked at her with a + steady face. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </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 “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. + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have just seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has given you such a sudden fancy to see Montanelli? You never + used to care about famous preachers.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not famous preachers; it is the man himself; I want to see how much + he has changed since I saw him last.” + </p> + <p> + “When was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Two days after Arthur's death.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + They crossed the bridge in silence and walked on along the river-side. + After a few minutes she spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” Gemma said, half to herself, “if he knows the people think + that about him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't he know it? Do you think it is not true?” + </p> + <p> + “I know it is not true.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know it?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “HE told you? Montanelli? Gemma, what do you mean?” + </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> + “Cesare, you and I have been friends for all these years, and I have never + told you what really happened about Arthur.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no need to tell me, dear,” he broke in hastily; “I know all + about it already.” + </p> + <p> + “Giovanni told you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “About my striking Arthur and his drowning himself. Well, I will tell you + about Montanelli.” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + She paused a moment, and went on again: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It was never found, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Martini smiled and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “I have so often wondered,” she began again after a little pause; “what he + meant about the deception. It has sometimes occurred to me——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it is very strange; there was the most extraordinary personal + resemblance between them.” + </p> + <p> + “Between whom?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + They walked on a little way without speaking. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know that?” asked Dr. Riccardo's voice in a tone of + ill-suppressed irritation. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “I am afraid Signora Bolla is not well!” + </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> + “I will go home,” 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> + “Gemma, what is the matter with you?” he asked, in English, when they had + started. “What did that scoundrel say to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Cesare; it was no fault of his. I—I—had a fright——” + </p> + <p> + “A fright?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “Decent cardinals are none so plenty. + One might treat them politely when they do turn up.” + </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: “That is rather cleverly put, is it not?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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: “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. + </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: “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!” + </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, “A Son of the Church” 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. “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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. “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. + </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—including, of course, + Grassini—feared that an over-emphatic tone might irritate rather + than convince the ministry. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Galli, in his corner by the stove, jumped up to answer his enemy. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be interesting to know——” Sacconi began; but several + voices interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Speak up; we can't hear!” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Gemma looked round. “Yes,” she said, “the window is quite shut. I think + there is a variety show, or some such thing, passing.” + </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> + “It can't be helped these few days,” said Riccardo; “we must expect noise + at Christmas time. What were you saying, Sacconi?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he whispered; “a variety show.” + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + “What is going on out there?” asked Riccardo, approaching the window. “You + seem very much interested.” + </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> + “It is nothing interesting,” she said; “only a variety show; but they made + such a noise that I thought it must be something else.” + </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. “Thank you!” + he whispered softly; and then, closing the window, sat down again upon the + sill. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + When the meeting ended and the members of the committee rose to go, + Riccardo came up to Martini. + </p> + <p> + “Will you stop to dinner with me? Fabrizi and Sacconi have promised to + stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks; but I was going to see Signora Bolla home.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will allow me, I will see you home,” the Gadfly interposed; “I am + going in that direction.” + </p> + <p> + “If you really are going that way——” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly looked back over his shoulder, laughing. “I, my dear fellow? + I'm going to see the variety show!” + </p> + <p> + “What a strange creature that is; and what an odd affection for + mountebanks!” said Riccardo, coming back to his visitors. + </p> + <p> + “Case of a fellow-feeling, I should think,” said Martini; “the man's a + mountebank himself, if ever I saw one.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Dangerous in what way?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you needn't have any doubt of that!” Riccardo put in. “The history of + the Savigno affair proves that he keeps his head.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Which one do you mean—the 'Red Girdles'?” + </p> + <p> + “No; the 'Occoltellatori.'” + </p> + <p> + “The 'Knifers'! But that is a little body of outlaws—peasants, most + of them, with neither education nor political experience.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But what makes you suppose Rivarez to be connected with them?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Are you tired?” + </p> + <p> + “No; why?” + </p> + <p> + “Nor especially busy this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to ask a favour of you; I want you to come for a walk with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere in particular; anywhere you like.” + </p> + <p> + “But what for?” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “I—can't tell you—at least, it's very difficult; but please + come if you can.” + </p> + <p> + He raised his eyes suddenly from the ground, and she saw how strange their + expression was. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly, unless you would rather go to my lodgings.” + </p> + <p> + “No; come and dine with me at a restaurant. There's one on the Signoria. + Please don't refuse, now; you've promised!” + </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> + “Would you like to see the variety show?” + </p> + <p> + She stared at him in astonishment. What had he got into his head about + variety shows? + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen one?” he asked before she had time to speak. + </p> + <p> + “No; I don't think so. I didn't suppose they were interesting.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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 “ugly man.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </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> + “Shall we go?” he asked; “or would you like to see more?” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather go.” + </p> + <p> + They left the tent, and walked across the dark green to the river. For a + few moments neither spoke. + </p> + <p> + “What did you think of the show?” the Gadfly asked presently. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it rather a dreary business; and part of it seemed to me + positively unpleasant.” + </p> + <p> + “Which part?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, all those grimaces and contortions. They are simply ugly; there is + nothing clever about them.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean the hunchback's performance?” + </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: “Yes; I did not like that part at all.” + </p> + <p> + “That was the part the people enjoyed most.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say; and that is just the worst thing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Because it was inartistic?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no; it was all inartistic. I meant—because it was cruel.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Cruel? Do you mean to the hunchback?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He probably is not any more degraded than he was to start with. Most of + us are degraded in one way or another.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And a human soul?” + </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> + “A soul?” 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> + “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!” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “What is the matter, little one?” he asked, more gently than she had ever + heard him speak. “Why don't you go home?” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He took the child's arm to raise him. The result was a sharp scream and a + quick shrinking away. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is it?” the Gadfly asked, kneeling down on the pavement. “Ah! + Signora, look here!” + </p> + <p> + The child's shoulder and jacket were covered with blood. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “My uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes! And when was it?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning. He was drunk, and I—I——” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly shuddered. “Ah!” he said softly, “that hurts; doesn't it, + little one?” + </p> + <p> + “He hit me with the shovel—and I ran away—I ran away—because + he hit me.” + </p> + <p> + “And you've been wandering about ever since, without any dinner?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering, the child began to sob violently. The Gadfly lifted + him off the balustrade. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather come with you. You may want help. Do you think you can + carry him so far? Isn't he very heavy?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can manage, thank you.” + </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> + “Has Mme. Reni gone yet?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Felice!” she exclaimed under her breath, “what HAVE you got there?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Zita made a little grimace of disgust. “You've got its head right against + your shirt! How CAN you? It is dirty!” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly looked up with a sudden flash of anger. + </p> + <p> + “It is hungry,” he said fiercely. “You don't know what that means, do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He turned round quickly. “You don't mind?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not. Good-night, Mme. Reni!” + </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> + “I will send it back to fetch you and the child, if you like, M. Rivarez,” + she said, pausing on the doorstep. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Is your patient ready for his supper?” she asked, smiling at the strange + little figure. “I have been cooking it for him.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “Signor Rivarez, you must take something before you go home—you had + hardly any dinner, and it's very late.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like a cup of tea in the English fashion, if you have it. I'm + sorry to keep you up so late.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “What's that?” + </p> + <p> + “That? Cake; do you want some? I think you've had enough for now. Wait + till to-morrow, little man.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't it hurt awfully?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no desire to quarrel with anyone.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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 “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you he was ill?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you know? He's been laid up for the last four days.” + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew nothing about it. I'll go round to-night and see if he wants + anything.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She stuck a pin into the paper to mark the exact place, and turned round. + </p> + <p> + “Good-morning, doctor; how fagged you look! Are you well?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm well enough—only tired out. I've had an awful night with + Rivarez.” + </p> + <p> + “With Rivarez?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter with him?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, rather a complication of things. First of all——” + </p> + <p> + “First of all, have you had any breakfast?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Is that dangerous?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no; the chief danger in a case of that kind is of the patient getting + desperate and taking a dose of arsenic.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very painful, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He is nervous, I should think.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the ballet-girl?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish, doctor,” said Gemma, “that you had sent for one of us last night, + instead of wearing yourself out like this.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is with him now?” asked Gemma. + </p> + <p> + “No one except the landlady and her maid.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go to him at once,” said Martini. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind the committee. I have just seen Riccardo, and have come to + know if I can be of any use.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly set his face like a flint. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, really! that is very kind of you; but it wasn't worth the trouble. + I'm only a little out of sorts.” + </p> + <p> + “So I understood from Riccardo. He was up with you all night, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly bit his lip savagely. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite comfortable, thank you, and don't want anything.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't want anything. I should be + wasting your time for nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?” + </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> + “Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo said you were to have it if + the pain got very bad.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer. It may be worse later on.” + </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> + “Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if you can stand it, I can't. + You must have the stuff.” + </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> + “That arm must have been in a pleasant condition when those marks were + fresh,” said Riccardo's voice behind him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here by ten.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten hours! Martini, surely you haven't been here all that time?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I was beginning to wonder whether I hadn't given you an overdose of + opium.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly shot a sly glance at him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I have come to stop the night with you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you're right,” Riccardo said. “But that's not always an easy + resolution to stick to.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Thank you!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, stuff! Go to sleep.” + </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> + “Wait a minute!” 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> + “How is he?” she asked without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She still kept her eyes on the ground. + </p> + <p> + “Has it been very bad this time?” + </p> + <p> + “About as bad as it can well be, I should think.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so. When he won't let me come into the room, that always means + it's bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he often have attacks like this?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her eyes again, went on: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + There was a curious, sullen defiance in her manner. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + He held out his hand, but she drew back with a quick gesture of refusal. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why you want to shake hands with his mistress.” + </p> + <p> + “As you like, of course,” he began in embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + 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!” + </p> + <p> + She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting back into the + garden, slammed the gate in his face. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly clasped his hands with a tragic gesture. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Thanks, I'm not so fond of murderous tools as you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, a tape-worm is as murderous as a dagger, any day, and not half so + pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Only till three o'clock. Galli and I have to go to San Miniato, and + Signora Bolla is coming till I can get back.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Rivarez, take your physic before she comes,” said Galli, approaching + the sofa with a medicine glass. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “By the way,” he asked; “how did you get so much knocked about? In the + war, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, didn't I just tell you it was a case of secret dungeons and——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that version is for Signora Grassini's benefit. Really, I suppose it + was in the war with Brazil?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I got a bit hurt there; and then hunting in the savage districts and + one thing and another.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, that was in a puma-hunt. You see, I had fired——” + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the door. + </p> + <p> + “Is the room tidy, Martini? Yes? Then please open the door. This is really + most kind, signora; you must excuse my not getting up.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I can stop for a quarter of an hour. Let me put your cloak in the other + room. Shall I take the basket, too?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down beside the table and began clipping the stalks of the flowers + and arranging them in a vase. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Rivarez,” said Galli; “tell us the rest of the puma-hunt story; you + had just begun.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That must have been a pleasant experience.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the Gadfly answered; “that is——” + </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> + “Surely it is not come on again?” asked Galli anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing to speak of, thanks to your s-s-soothing application that I + b-b-blasphemed against. Are you going already, Martini?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Come along, Galli; we shall be late.” + </p> + <p> + Gemma followed the two men out of the room, and presently returned with an + egg beaten up in milk. + </p> + <p> + “Take this, please,” 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> + “Signora Bolla!” + </p> + <p> + She looked up. He was tearing the fringe of the couch-rug, and kept his + eyes lowered. + </p> + <p> + “You didn't believe I was speaking the truth just now,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “I had not the smallest doubt that you were telling falsehoods,” she + answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + “You were quite right. I was telling falsehoods all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean about the war?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you prefer pleasing Galli to speaking the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “I have never told it to anybody yet; but I'll tell you if you care to + hear.” + </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> + “I f-forgot,” he stammered apologetically. “I was g-going to t-tell you + about——” + </p> + <p> + “About the—accident or whatever it was that caused your lameness. + But if it worries you——” + </p> + <p> + “The accident? Oh, the smashing! Yes; only it wasn't an accident, it was a + poker.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And your courage,” she put in softly. “But perhaps you count that among + your unbreakable possessions.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment, glancing furtively at her; then went on: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but the other people, could they not interfere? Were they all afraid + of one Lascar?” + </p> + <p> + He looked up and burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered. + </p> + <p> + “Then what was the end of it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And then?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + A long pause. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She raised her head and looked at him with deep and serious eyes. “PLEASE + don't talk that way,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He bit his lip and tore off another piece of the rug-fringe. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go on?” he asked after a moment. + </p> + <p> + “If—if you will. I am afraid it is horrible to you to remember.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I—don't think I quite understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, it is the fact of having come to the end of my courage, to the + point where I found myself a coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely there is a limit to what anyone can bear.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and the man who has once reached that limit never knows when he may + reach it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind telling me,” she asked, hesitating, “how you came to be + stranded out there alone at twenty?” + </p> + <p> + “Very simply: I had a good opening in life, at home in the old country, + and ran away from it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + He laughed again in his quick, harsh way. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Go on, please.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Five years! Oh, that is terrible! And had you no friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Friends! I”—he turned on her with sudden fierceness—“I have + NEVER had a friend!” + </p> + <p> + The next instant he seemed a little ashamed of his vehemence, and went on + quickly: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of work did you do?” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why was that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “To tramp? With that lame foot!” + </p> + <p> + He looked up with a sudden, piteous catching of the breath. + </p> + <p> + “I—I was hungry,” 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> + “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———” + </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> + “Never mind the rest; it's almost too horrible to talk about.” + </p> + <p> + He stared doubtfully at the hand, shook his head, and went on steadily: + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + Another pause. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “Don't! I can't hear any more! Stop, for God's sake!” + </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> + “Damn it all, what an idiot I am!” 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> + “I want to ask you a question.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” without moving. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not cut your throat?” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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"> + “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!” + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “But she does not know,” Gemma protested softly. “She cannot guess that + she is hurting you.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Mme. Reni!” said Gemma. + </p> + <p> + Zita's face darkened like a thunder-cloud. “Madame?” she said, turning and + raising her eyes with a defiant look. + </p> + <p> + “Would your friends mind speaking a little more softly? Signor Rivarez is + very unwell.” + </p> + <p> + The gipsy flung down her violets. “Allez-vous en!” she said, turning + sharply on the astonished officers. “Vous m'embetez, messieurs!” + </p> + <p> + She went slowly out into the road. Gemma closed the window. + </p> + <p> + “They have gone away,” she said, turning to him. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. I—I am sorry to have troubled you.” + </p> + <p> + “It was no trouble.” He at once detected the hesitation in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “'But?'” he said. “That sentence was not finished, signora; there was an + unspoken 'but' in the back of your mind.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “My aversion to Mme. Reni? It is only when——” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “A woman!” He burst out laughing harshly. “Is THAT what you call a woman? + 'Madame, ce n'est que pour rire!'” + </p> + <p> + “That is not fair!” she said. “You have no right to speak of her in that + way to anyone—especially to another woman!” + </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> + “Would you like the lamp?” 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"> + “All thy waves and billows have gone over me.” + </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> + “I have made you a cup of coffee,” she said, setting down the lamp. + </p> + <p> + “Put it down a minute. Will you come here, please.” + </p> + <p> + He took both her hands in his. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Afraid——” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + His eyes dilated. She was quite still, hardly breathing till he spoke + again. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He still kept her hands in his. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he said very softly; “have you ever in your life done a really + cruel thing?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer, but her head sank down, and two great tears fell on + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me!” he whispered passionately, clasping her hands tighter. “Tell + me! I have told you all my misery.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—once,—long ago. And I did it to the person I loved best + in the world.” + </p> + <p> + The hands that clasped hers were trembling violently; but they did not + loosen their hold. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + She drew back with a startled face. “Don't!” she cried out piteously. + “Please don't ever do that again! You hurt me!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think you didn't hurt the man you killed?” + </p> + <p> + “The man I—killed—— Ah, there is Cesare at the gate at + last! I—I must go!” + </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—this curious personal maliciousness. + </p> + <p> + “Are you preparing another volley against that unlucky Cardinal?” he asked + half irritably. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “The Swindlers' Gazette, of course, or the Church Calendar.” + </p> + <p> + “Sh-sh! Rivarez, we are disturbing the other readers.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What does she want to know?” + </p> + <p> + “Only in what year the expedition started and when it passed through + Ecuador.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—— + </p> + <p> + Gemma went home with the slip of paper in her hand. April, 1838—and + Arthur had died in May, 1833. Five years— + </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;—and an “overluxurious home”—and “someone he had + trusted had deceived him”—had deceived him—and he had found it + out—— + </p> + <p> + She stopped and put up both hands to her head. Oh, this was utterly mad—it + was not possible—it was absurd—— + </p> + <p> + And yet, how they had dragged that harbour! + </p> + <p> + 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——— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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: “I have killed Arthur! Arthur is + dead!” 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—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—— + </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— + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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—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—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> + “May I come in?” 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> + “How you startled me!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I am s-so sorry. Perhaps I am disturbing you?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I was only turning over some old things.” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated for a moment; then handed him back the miniature. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of that head?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it at all like anyone you know?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at the portrait more closely. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. What a curious thing! Of course it is; very like.” + </p> + <p> + “Like whom?” + </p> + <p> + “C-c-cardinal Montan-nelli. I wonder whether his irreproachable Eminence + has any nephews, by the way? Who is it, if I may ask?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a portrait, taken in childhood, of the friend I told you about the + other day——” + </p> + <p> + “Whom you killed?” + </p> + <p> + She winced in spite of herself. How lightly, how cruelly he used that + dreadful word! + </p> + <p> + “Yes, whom I killed—if he is really dead.” + </p> + <p> + “If?” + </p> + <p> + She kept her eyes on his face. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She put the portrait back into its drawer and locked the desk. + </p> + <p> + “That is hard doctrine,” she said. “And now we will talk about something + else.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “What I think of it? I think it will not be of much value, but half a loaf + is better than no bread.” + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly. Then do you intend to work on one of the new papers these + good folk here are preparing to start?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “How long are you going to waste your mental gifts in that fashion?” + </p> + <p> + “Why 'waste'?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Since you press me for an answer—yes, to some extent.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you let that go on?” + </p> + <p> + No answer. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you let it go on?” + </p> + <p> + “Because—I can't help it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + She looked up reproachfully. “That is unkind—it's not fair to press + me so.” + </p> + <p> + “But all the same you are going to tell me why.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly it must be done by somebody; but not always by the same + person.” + </p> + <p> + “It's about all I'm fit for.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her with half-shut eyes, inscrutably. Presently she raised + her head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me hear it and then we will discuss.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me first whether you have heard anything about schemes for a rising + in Venetia.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” she interrupted, “are you quite sure that these friends of + yours can be trusted?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite sure. I know them personally, and have worked with them.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you I belonged to a 'sect'?” he interrupted sharply. + </p> + <p> + “No one; I guessed it.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mind your knowing anything so long as it goes no further. I + suppose this has not——” + </p> + <p> + She lifted her head with a gesture of half-offended surprise. “Surely that + is an unnecessary question!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I know you would not speak of anything to outsiders; but I + thought that perhaps, to the members of your party——” + </p> + <p> + “The party's business is with facts, not with my personal conjectures and + fancies. Of course I have never mentioned the subject to anyone.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. Do you happen to have guessed which sect I belong to?” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you hope that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you are fit for better things.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean the work of knifing?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you honestly believe that it settles any?” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely even that is better than a mechanical habit of obedience and + submission.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And the value they put on religion?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather of the sacredness of human personality.” + </p> + <p> + “Put it as you like. To me the great cause of our muddles and mistakes + seems to lie in the mental disease called religion.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean any religion in particular?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall have done the work that makes it worth my while to live.” + </p> + <p> + “Is THAT the work you spoke of the other day?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, just that.” + </p> + <p> + She shivered and turned away. + </p> + <p> + “You are disappointed in me?” he said, looking up with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “No; not exactly that. I am—I think—a little afraid of you.” + </p> + <p> + She turned round after a moment and said in her ordinary business voice: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us come back to the question of my plan; it has something to do + with propaganda and more with insurrection.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it you want me to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Chiefly to help me get the firearms across.” + </p> + <p> + “But how could I do that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes two frontiers to cross instead of one.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Give me five minutes to think.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly. It goes without saying that I should not have asked you to + join in a thing of which I know you disapprove.” + </p> + <p> + “When do you want a definite answer from me?” + </p> + <p> + “There is not much time to lose; but I can give you a few days to decide + in.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you free next Saturday evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see—to-day is Thursday; yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then come here. I will think the matter over and give you a final + answer.” + </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 “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. + </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—a sure + sign with him of mental agitation. She sat looking at him for a little + while. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Very likely.” For a moment he tramped to and fro in silence, then + suddenly stopped beside her. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Madonna! Give it up! That man is dangerous; he is secret, and cruel, and + unscrupulous—and he is in love with you!” + </p> + <p> + She drew back. + </p> + <p> + “Cesare, how can you get such fancies into your head?” + </p> + <p> + “He is in love with you,” Martini repeated. “Keep clear of him, Madonna!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If you are tied, there is nothing more to say,” 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—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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Ah, at last! I was beginning to think something must have happened to + you!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it safer not to write, and I couldn't get back sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “You have just arrived?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I am straight from the diligence; I looked in to tell you that the + affair is all settled.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that Bailey has really consented to help?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “To talk over details on the way?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, as long as I wasn't too sea-sick to talk about anything.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me, though, that Bailey is running a serious risk in doing a + thing like this.” + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't conceive how you managed to get their consent; Williams, too; + the last man I should have thought of.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Oh, Felice; I thought you were never coming!” + </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> + “Good-evening, Zita; how are you?” + </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> + “Well, Shaitan, how are you, old man? Yes, it's really I. Shake hands, + like a good dog!” + </p> + <p> + The hard, sullen look came into Zita's face. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He turned round quickly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Here is a buttonhole for you; let me put it in your coat.” + </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> + “Let us have coffee up on the terrace,” she said; “it is quite warm this + evening.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Shall I take your guitar? Perhaps you will sing.” + </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> + “Give me a cigarette,” she said. “I don't believe I have smoked once since + you went away.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy thought! It's just s-s-smoke I want to complete my bliss.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned forward and looked at him earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Are you really happy?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly's mobile brows went up. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I know another thing you desire.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” + </p> + <p> + “That!” She tossed a little cardboard box into his hand. + </p> + <p> + “B-burnt almonds! Why d-didn't you tell me before I began to s-smoke?” he + cried reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you baby! you can eat them when you have done smoking. There comes + the coffee.” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “A very good reason for stopping at home now you are here.” + </p> + <p> + “Not much stopping for me; I'm off again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The smile died on her face. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow! What for? Where are you going to?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! two or three p-p-places, on business.” + </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> + “Always business!” Zita sighed under her breath; and then asked aloud: + </p> + <p> + “Shall you be gone long?” + </p> + <p> + “No; only a fortnight or three weeks, p-p-probably.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it's some of THAT business?” she asked abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “'That' business?” + </p> + <p> + “The business you're always trying to get your neck broken over—the + everlasting politics.” + </p> + <p> + “It has something to do with p-p-politics.” + </p> + <p> + Zita threw away her cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “You are fooling me,” she said. “You are going into some danger or other.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “S-so am I,” said the Gadfly, yawning lazily; “and therefore we'll talk + about something else—unless you will sing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, give me the guitar, then. What shall I sing?” + </p> + <p> + “The ballad of the lost horse; it suits your voice so well.” + </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 “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. + </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"> + “Ah, no matter! More was lost——” + </pre> + <p> + She broke down with a sob and hid her face among the ivy leaves. + </p> + <p> + “Zita!” The Gadfly rose and took the guitar from her hand. “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + She only sobbed convulsively, hiding her face in both hands. He touched + her on the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me what is the matter,” he said caressingly. + </p> + <p> + “Let me alone!” she sobbed, shrinking away. “Let me alone!” + </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> + “Felice—don't go! Don't go away!” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + She silently shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Have I done anything to hurt you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” She put a hand up against his throat. + </p> + <p> + “What, then?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing to clear up. I can see you don't care a brass farthing + for me.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush, Zita! I have never thought that way about any living thing.” + </p> + <p> + “You have never loved me,” she insisted sullenly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I have never loved you. Listen to me, and try to think as little harm + of me as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “Who said I thought any harm of you? I——” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “And of money,” she interrupted with a harsh little laugh. He winced and + hesitated a moment. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment, but she did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + He paused again. + </p> + <p> + “Then?” she whispered, without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Then I have done you a wrong, and I am very sorry. But I did not mean to + do it.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” he said quietly. “You are excited and imagining things that are + not true.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly started as if he had been shot. + </p> + <p> + “Cardinal?” he repeated mechanically. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + He stood up. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “It is true,” 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> + “BUT c-c-can't I meet him somewhere in the hills? Brisighella is a risky + place for me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but why Brisighella? A frontier town is always full of spies.” + </p> + <p> + “Brisighella just now is a capital place. It's swarming with pilgrims from + all parts of the country.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's not on the way to anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not far out of the way to Rome, and many of the Easter Pilgrims are + going round to hear Mass there.” + </p> + <p> + “I d-d-didn't know there was anything special in Brisighella.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say; I don't go to hear sermons.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he has the reputation of being a saint, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “How does he manage that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't get taken; we have a splendid disguise for you, with a passport + and all complete.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A repentant b-b-brigand? But w-what about the police?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he quite old?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where am I to meet Domenichino?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he manages to live in a p-palace, then, in s-spite of being a saint?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, of course, he arranges where we can talk?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “No; it will do; only see that the beard and wig look natural.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Are you one of the pilgrims, father?” + </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> + “His Eminence! His Eminence is coming out!” shouted the people by the + door. “Stand aside! His Eminence is coming!” + </p> + <p> + They both stood up. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Peace be with you, my children!” + </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: “What an actor!” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + 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—— + </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—to + be so close, so close that he could have put out his arm and touched the + dear hand. + </p> + <p> + “Will you not come under shelter, my friend?” the soft voice said. “I am + afraid you are chilled.” + </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> + “Stand bark a little, friends,” Montanelli said, turning to the crowd; “I + want to speak to him.” + </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> + “You have had some great trouble. Can I do anything to help you?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly shook his head in silence. + </p> + <p> + “Are you a pilgrim?” + </p> + <p> + “I am a miserable sinner.” + </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> + “Perhaps you would care to speak to me alone? If I can be any help to you——” + </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> + “It would be no use,” he said; “the thing is hopeless.” + </p> + <p> + A police official stepped forward out of the crowd. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “A great crime,” the Gadfly repeated, shaking his head slowly. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Would Your Eminence receive a man who is guilty of the death of his own + son?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly stretched out his hands with a sudden gesture of passion. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “God is merciful,” he said. “Lay your burden before His throne; for it is + written: 'A broken and contrite heart shalt thou not despise.'” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He has not come yet. So you got on all smoothly? Did the Cardinal give + you his blessing?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How was that? Let us hear, Rivarez.” + </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> + “It was very clever, of course; but I don't see what good all this + play-acting business has done to anybody.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought myself he seemed fairly decent,” the Gadfly lazily assented. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He wouldn't take it because he didn't want to leave his work here.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </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> + “Half-past eleven; we mustn't stop any longer or the night-watchman may + see us.” + </p> + <p> + “When does he pass?” asked the Gadfly. + </p> + <p> + “About twelve o'clock; and I want to be home before he comes. Good-night, + Giordani. Rivarez, shall we walk together?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I think we are safer apart. Then I shall see you again?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly was carefully putting on his beard and wig before the + looking-glass. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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: “Carino.” + </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—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. + </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> + “My poor boy! Oh, God; my poor boy!” + </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: “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. + </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,—had + passed and had not seen him. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “Padre!” + </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> + “Arthur!” the low whisper came at last; “yes, the water is deep——” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly came forward. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Your Eminence! I thought it was one of the priests.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly bent his head to receive the benediction, and turned slowly + away. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” said Montanelli. + </p> + <p> + He was standing with one hand on the chancel rail. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli turned abruptly away. + </p> + <p> + “I have only one offering to give,” he said; “a broken heart.” + </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> + “Good-evening, Bianca,” he said when the maid-servant opened the door. + “Has Mme. Reni been here to-day?” + </p> + <p> + She stared at him blankly + </p> + <p> + “Mme. Reni? Has she come back, then, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he asked with a frown, stopping short on the mat. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Just after I did? What, a f-fortnight ago?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, the same day; and her things are lying about higgledy-piggledy. + All the neighbours are talking about it.” + </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> + “If you please, sir,” said Bianca, putting her head in at the door, + “there's an old woman——” + </p> + <p> + He turned round fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want here—following me about?” + </p> + <p> + “An old woman wishes to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see her; I'm busy.” + </p> + <p> + “She has been coming nearly every evening since you went away, sir, always + asking when you would come back.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask her w-what her business is. No; never mind; I suppose I must go + myself.” + </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> + “You are the lame gentleman,” she said, inspecting him critically from + head to foot. “I have brought you a message from Zita Reni.” + </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> + “Sit down, please. N-now, tell me who you are.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no business of yours who I am. I have come to tell you that Zita + Reni has gone away with my son.” + </p> + <p> + “With—your—son?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are a gipsy! Zita has gone back to her own people, then?” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly's face remained as cold and steady as before. + </p> + <p> + “Has she gone away with a gipsy camp, or merely to live with your son?” + </p> + <p> + The woman burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think of following her and trying to win her back? It's too late, + sir; you should have thought of that before!” + </p> + <p> + “No; I only want to know the truth, if you will tell it to me.” + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders; it was hardly worth while to abuse a person + who took it so meekly. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “You said,” he interrupted, “that you had brought me a message from her.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly stood up. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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—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. + </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: “You can go away, + Bianca. I don't want anything.” + </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> + “It is I,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He started up. “Gemma,—— Gemma! Oh, I have wanted you so!” + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + Ah, no, no! How could he ever forget? Was it not she who had cast him into + hell—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> + “I am afraid I startled you.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a private trouble of my own. I don't see why you should be worried + over it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “May I not have my share in your trouble?” she whispered at last. + </p> + <p> + His head sank down on her arm. “The hand of the Lord is heavy.” + </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. “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.” + </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> + “This is bad,” she said. “We can hardly keep the Venetians waiting for + three weeks.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see that Domenichino is to blame; he has evidently done his best, + and he can't do impossibilities.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But what help are we going to give him? We have no one in Florence to + send.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I m-must go myself.” + </p> + <p> + She leaned back in her chair and looked at him with a little frown. + </p> + <p> + “No, that won't do; it's too risky.” + </p> + <p> + “It will have to do if we can't f-f-find any other way out of the + difficulty.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we must find another way, that's all. It's out of the question for + you to go again just now.” + </p> + <p> + An obstinate line appeared at the corners of his under lip. + </p> + <p> + “I d-don't see that it's out of the question.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There are p-plenty of lame people in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The eyes don't matter; I can alter them with belladonna.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But s-s-someone must help Domenichino.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “It's not true!” he interrupted vehemently. “He is nothing to me; I don't + care if I never see him again.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She passed over the feeble little subterfuge, and went on as if there had + been no interruption: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It was not I that asked for the opium,” he said defiantly; “it was the + others who insisted on giving it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Wright has sent you this, ma'am, by hand.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “What is it?” she asked hurriedly. He handed her the paper. + </p> + <p> + “DOMENICHINO HAS BEEN ARRESTED. COME AT ONCE.” + </p> + <p> + She sat down with the paper in her hand and stared hopelessly at the + Gadfly. + </p> + <p> + “W-well?” he said at last, with his soft, ironical drawl; “are you + satisfied now that I must go?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose you must,” she answered, sighing. “And I too.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up with a little start. “You too? But——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “There are plenty of hands to be got there.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He considered for a moment, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “F-fortunately, so does every smuggler.” + </p> + <p> + She took out her watch. + </p> + <p> + “Half-past two. We have the afternoon and evening, then, if you are to + start to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But it won't be safe at all to hire a horse. The owner will——-” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Martini!” She turned round and looked at him in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; we must take him into confidence—unless you can think of + anyone else.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't quite understand what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + He understood at once. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! I shall be back long before then.” + </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> + “Have you arranged everything?” she asked, looking up. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is not that rather late? You ought to get into San Lorenzo before the + people are up in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get out without his seeing you?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will stay here till it is time to go to the barrier?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I shan't be here to mind; I must go downstairs and help Katie with the + dinner.” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly took the cigar from his mouth and blew away a long trail of + smoke. + </p> + <p> + “She has chosen for herself,” he said, “without compulsion on anyone's + part.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes—I know. But tell me——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you anything I can.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you want the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—yes.” + </p> + <p> + Martini turned away and went on pacing up and down. Presently he stopped + again. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly deliberately knocked the ash from his cigar and went on smoking + in silence. + </p> + <p> + “That means—that you don't choose to answer?” + </p> + <p> + “No; only that I think I have a right to know why you ask me that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? Good God, man, can't you see why?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + His voice died away in a strange, faint whisper. Martini came a step + nearer. + </p> + <p> + “Only going—to——” + </p> + <p> + “To die.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and this time I shall fail.” + </p> + <p> + “But why? How can you know?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly smiled drearily. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Martini came up to him and put a hand on the back of his chair. + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “And let you get killed instead? That would be very clever.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm not likely to get killed! They don't know me as they do you. And, + besides, even if I did———” + </p> + <p> + He stopped, and the Gadfly looked up with a slow, inquiring gaze. + Martini's hand dropped by his side. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Would you have me wait till my grave opens of itself to swallow me up? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “If I must die, + I will encounter darkness as a bride—— +</pre> + <p> + Look here, Martini, you and I are talking nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “You are, certainly,” said Martini gruffly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And if it's my business to live, I have got to do that, I suppose. You're + the lucky one, Rivarez.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” the Gadfly assented laconically; “I was always lucky.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you coming with me to the barrier?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “You and I will talk to-morrow,” she said. “We shall have time in the + morning, when my packing is finished.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Would you like to lie down a bit?” she said. “You won't have any sleep + the rest of the night.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear no! I shall sleep at San Lorenzo while the men are getting my + disguise ready.” + </p> + <p> + “Then have some coffee. Wait a minute; I will get you out the biscuits.” + </p> + <p> + As she knelt down at the side-board he suddenly stooped over her shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever have you got there? Chocolate creams and English toffee! Why, + this is l-luxury for a king!” + </p> + <p> + She looked up, smiling faintly at his enthusiastic tone. + </p> + <p> + “Are you fond of sweets? I always keep them for Cesare; he is a perfect + baby over any kind of lollipops.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I want to eat them now, with you.” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “How pale you are!” he said. “That's because you take life sadly, and + don't like chocolate——” + </p> + <p> + “Do be serious for just five minutes! After all, it is a matter of life + and death.” + </p> + <p> + “Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life nor death is worth it.” + </p> + <p> + He had taken hold of both her hands and was stroking them with the tips of + his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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——'” + </p> + <p> + She put down the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Don't!” she said, with almost a sob. He looked up, and took her hands + again. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Dear, it is almost twelve,” she said at last. He raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He slowly rose and walked away to the other side of the room. There was a + moment's silence. + </p> + <p> + “I have one thing to say,” he began in a hardly audible voice; “one thing—to + tell you——” + </p> + <p> + He stopped and sat down by the window, hiding his face in both hands. + </p> + <p> + “You have been a long time deciding to be merciful,” she said softly. + </p> + <p> + “I have not seen much mercy in my life; and I thought—at first—you + wouldn't care——” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think that now.” + </p> + <p> + She waited a moment for him to speak and then crossed the room and stood + beside him. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + He took her hands and clasped them tightly. + </p> + <p> + “If I am killed—— You see, when I went to South America—— + Ah, Martini!” + </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> + “Punctual to the m-m-minute, as usual! You're an an-n-nimated chronometer, + Martini. Is that the r-r-riding-cloak?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's no matter. Is the street clear?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It is black coffee, and very strong. I will boil some milk.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He tore a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote a few words in pencil. + </p> + <p> + “I have it already,” she said in a dull, quiet voice. + </p> + <p> + “H-have you? Well, there it is, anyway. Come, Martini. Sh-sh-sh! Don't let + the door creak!” + </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> + “I will tell you everything there.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “She's been better lately, Your Eminence; but mother's bad now.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “You're not from these parts,” said the woman who poured it out, glancing + up at him. + </p> + <p> + “No. I come from Corsica.” + </p> + <p> + “Looking for work?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are bad hereabouts.” + </p> + <p> + “They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't know what we poor folk are + coming to.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you come over alone?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the red shirt. Hola, Paolo!” + </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> + “There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner,” Michele whispered + suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying his bundle, shuffled towards the + horseman. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “What sort of work can you do, my man?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly fumbled with his cap. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. Have you ever been out before?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced grass-cutter. No, I haven't + got any coppers to-day.” + </p> + <p> + A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them, with a doleful, monotonous + whine. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Couldn't we get away now?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is the spy?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Out of the way there!” shouted the captain. “In the name of His + Holiness!” + </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> + “This way, men!” + </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> + “Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive! It's Rivarez!” + </p> + <p> + “Another pistol, quick!” the Gadfly called to his men; “and go!” + </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> + “Put down your weapons, all of you!” + </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> + “Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!” + </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> + “I c-cong-gratulate your Eminence.” + </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> + “I have guessed what it is: Rivarez is taken, of course?” he said, as he + came into Gemma's room. + </p> + <p> + “He was arrested last Thursday, at Brisighella. He defended himself + desperately and wounded the captain of the squadron and a spy.” + </p> + <p> + “Armed resistance; that's bad!” + </p> + <p> + “It makes no difference; he was too deeply compromised already for a + pistol-shot more or less to affect his position much.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think they are going to do with him?” + </p> + <p> + She grew a shade paler even than before. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” she said; “that we must not wait to find out what they mean to + do.” + </p> + <p> + “You think we shall be able to effect a rescue?” + </p> + <p> + “We MUST.” + </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 “Melancolia.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen him?” Martini asked, stopping for a moment in his tramp. + </p> + <p> + “No; he was to have met me here the next morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember. Where is he?” + </p> + <p> + “In the fortress; very strictly guarded, and, they say, in chains.” + </p> + <p> + He made a gesture of indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid of any number of chains. + If only he isn't wounded——” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How does he come not to have been taken too? Did he run away and leave + Rivarez in the lurch?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She went out of the room, and presently came back with Michele and a + broad-shouldered mountaineer. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Michele gave a short account of the skirmish with the squadron. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini repeated in amazement: “The + Cardinal?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't make that out,” said Michele. “It's not like Rivarez to lose his + head at a crisis.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing an unarmed man,” + Martini put in. Michele shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He turned away, biting his moustache. His anger was very near to breaking + down in tears. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then—— First thing; have you got a plan of the + fortress?” + </p> + <p> + Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several sheets of paper. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know which of the towers he is in?” + </p> + <p> + “The east one, in the round room with the grated window. I have marked it + on the plan.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you get your information?” + </p> + <p> + “From a man nicknamed 'The Cricket,' a soldier of the guard. He is cousin + to one of our men—Gino.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been quick about it.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “They won't take him in to Ravenna,” Michele interposed. + </p> + <p> + “What makes you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?” + </p> + <p> + “I think he will try to get him hanged.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But what about the Cardinal? Would he consent to things of that kind?” + </p> + <p> + “He has no jurisdiction in military affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “No, but he has great influence. Surely the Governor would not venture on + such a step without his consent?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “You were always a good friend, Cesare,” she said at last; “and a very + present help in trouble. And now let us discuss plans.” + </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> + “AND I once more most earnestly assure Your Eminence that your refusal is + endangering the peace of the town.” + </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 “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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Whatever the man has done,” Montanelli replied, “he has the right to be + judged according to law.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “If there is any danger of that, it rests with you to guard him more + closely.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very curious. There must be something remarkable about him.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Has Rivarez brought up some personal secret of the interrogating + officer?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, really—the poor fellow got into debt when he was a cavalry + officer, and borrowed a little sum from the regimental funds——” + </p> + <p> + “Stole public money that had been intrusted to him, in fact?” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli turned round and looked at the Governor with an expression + which his face did not often wear. + </p> + <p> + “I am a minister of religion,” he said; “not a police-spy; and + eavesdropping forms no part of my professional duties.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I didn't mean to give offence———” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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: “Fragola! Fragola!” + </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> + “You can wait in the hall,” he said to the guards. + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + A sudden flash came into Montanelli's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, please,” said the Cardinal, when the door was shut. The Gadfly + obeyed in silence. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly smiled. “My ch-ch-chief occupation at p-p-present is to be + asked questions.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “First, then, you are said to have been smuggling firearms into this + district. What are they wanted for?” + </p> + <p> + “T-t-to k-k-kill rats with.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a terrible answer. Are all your fellow-men rats in your eyes if + they cannot think as you do?” + </p> + <p> + “S-s-some of them.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli leaned back in his chair and looked at him in silence for a + little while. + </p> + <p> + “What is that on your hand?” he asked suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly glanced at his left hand. “Old m-m-marks from the teeth of some + of the rats.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me; I was speaking of the other hand. That is a fresh hurt.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Possibly the p-p-pressure of the iron has not done it much good.” + </p> + <p> + The Cardinal looked up with a frown. + </p> + <p> + “Have they been putting irons on a fresh wound?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Give me the hand,” 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> + “I will speak about the irons,” he said. “And now I want to ask you + another question: What do you propose to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Th-th-that is very simply answered, Your Eminence. To escape if I can, + and if I can't, to die.” + </p> + <p> + “Why 'to die'?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Supposing,” Montanelli began again, “that you were to succeed in + escaping; what should you do with your life?” + </p> + <p> + “I have already told Your Eminence; I should k-k-kill rats.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if it is only that——” Montanelli dismissed the subject + with an indifferent gesture. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “S-s-sancta simplicitas! Oh, you, sweet, innocent, Arcadian people—and + you never guessed! You n-never saw the cloven hoof?” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli stood up. “Am I to understand, Signor Rivarez, that you wrote + both sides of the controversy yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you,” Montanelli said coldly, taking up a pencil and + twisting it between his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + The pencil snapped in Montanelli's hand. “That is too much!” 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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly, leaning back against the chair-cushions, looked up with his + subtle, chilling, inscrutable smile. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli, white to the very lips, turned away and rang the bell. + </p> + <p> + “You can take back the prisoner,” 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—of the wounded hand, the smiling, cruel mouth, the + mysterious eyes, like deep sea water—— + </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. “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “What time is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Six o'clock. Your supper, sir.” + </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> + “You will be ill if you don't eat,” said the soldier hurriedly. “Take a + bit of bread, anyway; it'll do you good.” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “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.” + </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—— + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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,—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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Then he began to file. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—how they roared——! + </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—nothing. + </p> + <p> + He picked it up, carried it to the light, and unfolded it steadily. + </p> + <p> + “Come to-night, whatever happens; the Cricket will be transferred + to-morrow to another service. This is our only chance.” + </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——— + </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—to nothing—to everything. + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night! Oh, let me be ill to-morrow! I will bear anything to-morrow—only + not to-night!” + </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—— + </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: “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!” + </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: “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.” + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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—— Ah, + what matter, so he could but sleep! + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + And he would have drawn her shroud across his eyes. But she shrank away, + screaming: + </p> + <p> + “It is sacrilege; you are a priest!” + </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. “Ah!” he said; “the sea will be more merciful; + it, too, is wearied unto death and cannot sleep.” + </p> + <p> + Then Arthur rose up from the deep, and cried aloud: + </p> + <p> + “This sea is mine!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Your Eminence! Your Eminence!” + </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> + “Your Eminence—are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + He drew both hands across his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “No; I was asleep, and you startled me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sorry; I thought I had heard you moving early this morning, and + I supposed———” + </p> + <p> + “Is it late now?” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “Is he downstairs? I will come presently.” + </p> + <p> + He dressed and went downstairs. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid this is an unceremonious way to call upon Your Eminence,” the + Governor began. + </p> + <p> + “I hope there is nothing the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “There is very much the matter. Rivarez has all but succeeded in + escaping.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so long as he has not quite succeeded there is no harm done. How + was it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did he come to be lying across the path? Did he fall from the + rampart and hurt himself?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he give any account of himself?” + </p> + <p> + “He is unconscious, Your Eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “Still?” + </p> + <p> + “He just half comes to himself from time to time and moans, and then goes + off again.” + </p> + <p> + “That is very strange. What does the doctor think?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli frowned slightly. + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do with him?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Marcone knocked the ashes savagely from his pipe. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow, that's the end of it; we can't do anything for him now, + poor fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “I have not asked her; she has not spoken since I brought her the news. We + had best not disturb her just yet.” + </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> + “I will come back this evening,” he said; but Martini stopped him with a + gesture. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go yet; I want to speak to you.” He dropped his voice still lower + and continued in almost a whisper: + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe there is really no hope?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think,” Martini asked suddenly; “that, when he recovers, + something might be done by calling off the sentinels?” + </p> + <p> + “Calling off the sentinels? What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “Would I do it?” he repeated. “Look at her!” + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + Michele, followed by Gino, came in from the verandah. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready now,” he said. “I only want to ask the signora——” + </p> + <p> + He was moving towards her when Martini caught him by the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Don't disturb her; she's better alone.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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 “any such foolery.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The law does not admit of torture, though,” the doctor ventured to say; + “and this is coming perilously near it.” + </p> + <p> + “The law says nothing about opium, I think,” said the Governor snappishly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “At least, then, have the straps a little loosened. It is downright + barbarity to keep them drawn so tight.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Can I do anything for you, sir? I have only a minute.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly opened his eyes. “Let me alone!” he moaned. “Let me alone——” + </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> + “His Eminence would like to speak to you.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It was about Rivarez, Your Eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor pulled his moustaches with an embarrassed air. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any new difficulty?” + </p> + <p> + “Only that next Thursday is the 3d of June,—Corpus Domini,—and + somehow or other the matter must be settled before then.” + </p> + <p> + “Thursday is Corpus Domini, certainly; but why must it be settled + especially before then?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “The last I heard about Rivarez was that he was too ill to move or speak. + Is he recovering, then?” + </p> + <p> + “He seems much better now, Your Eminence. He certainly has been very ill—unless + he was shamming all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you any reason for supposing that likely?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “What has he done now?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So you went there to interrogate him?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Your Eminence. I hoped he would be more amenable to reason now.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Most certainly I do, Your Eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “You think that, to prevent the risk of bloodshed, it is absolutely + necessary that he should somehow be got rid of before Corpus Domini?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think that if he were not here there would be no such danger?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why do you not send him in to Ravenna?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You still persist, then, in wishing for a court-martial, and in asking my + consent to it?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Colonel Ferrari, do you believe in God?” + </p> + <p> + “Your Eminence!” the colonel gasped in a voice full of exclamation-stops. + </p> + <p> + “Do you believe in God?” Montanelli repeated, rising and looking down at + him with steady, searching eyes. The colonel rose too. + </p> + <p> + “Your Eminence, I am a Christian man, and have never yet been refused + absolution.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli lifted the cross from his breast. + </p> + <p> + “Then swear on the cross of the Redeemer Who died for you, that you have + been speaking the truth to me.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + After a little pause, the Governor bent down and put the cross to his + lips. + </p> + <p> + “I believe it,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Montanelli turned slowly away. + </p> + <p> + “I will give you a definite answer to-morrow. But first I must see Rivarez + and speak to him alone.” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Took no notice!” Montanelli repeated. “A man in such circumstances sent + you a message, and you took no notice of it?” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “At what time does Your Eminence wish to visit the prisoner?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I will go to him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “As Your Eminence pleases. If you will kindly wait a few moments, I will + send someone to prepare him.” + </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> + “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.” + </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: “It is rather steep here, Your Eminence.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Your Eminence. Here is the chair; shall I put it beside him?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly was lying with closed eyes; but he felt that Montanelli was + looking at him. + </p> + <p> + “I think he is asleep, Your Eminence,” the sergeant was beginning, but the + Gadfly opened his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “No,” 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> + “Who has been doing this?” he asked. The sergeant fumbled with his cap. + </p> + <p> + “It was by the Governor's express orders, Your Eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “I had no idea of this, Signor Rivarez,” Montanelli said in a voice of + great distress. + </p> + <p> + “I told Your Eminence,” the Gadfly answered, with his hard smile, “that I + n-n-never expected to be patted on the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Sergeant, how long has this been going on?” + </p> + <p> + “Since he tried to escape, Your Eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “That is, nearly a week? Bring a knife and cut these off at once.” + </p> + <p> + “May it please Your Eminence, the doctor wanted to take them off, but + Colonel Ferrari wouldn't allow it.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You don't know how to do it; give me the knife.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Take off the irons, too, sergeant; and then come here. I want to speak to + you.” + </p> + <p> + He stood by the window, looking on, till the sergeant threw down the + fetters and approached him. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said, “tell me everything that has been happening.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “But I think, Your Eminence,” he added, “that the colonel wanted the + straps kept on as a means of getting evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “Evidence?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. The Gadfly had turned away, and was lying with one + hand across his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I am—very sorry to trouble you,” he said at last, huskily; “but + could I have a little water?” + </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> + “Give me your hand—quick—just a moment,” the Gadfly whispered. + “Oh, what difference does it make to you? Only one minute!” + </p> + <p> + He sank down, hiding his face on Montanelli's arm, and quivering from head + to foot. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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> + “Thank you,” he said. “I—am sorry. I think—you asked me + something?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not fit to talk. If there is anything you want to say to me, I + will try to come again to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I prefer to form my own conclusions,” Montanelli answered quietly. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli rose. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you,” Montanelli said, turning to him with a startled + look. + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly burst out laughing again. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Please stop laughing a minute,” Montanelli interrupted, “and tell me how + you heard all this. Who has been talking to you about it?” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Your E-eminence was always f-f-famous for truthfulness,” the Gadfly put + in bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly was staring absently out of the window. He looked round and + answered in a weary voice: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am listening.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather get it over now,” the Gadfly answered in the same tone. “I + follow everything you say.” + </p> + <p> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly spoke with languid indifference and contempt, like a man weary + of the whole subject. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he added after a little pause. “Was that the decision, Your + Eminence?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “In—my hands?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there none on them as yet, Your Eminence?” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli grew a shade paler, but went on quietly: + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment, and went on again: + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + A long silence followed; then the Gadfly looked up. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, panting for breath, and then burst out again: + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie!” the Gadfly cried out with blazing eyes. “And the bishopric?” + </p> + <p> + “The—bishopric?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + Presently Montanelli rose and came back, with lips as pale as ashes. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + He was shivering as if with ague. All the Gadfly's fury broke down. + </p> + <p> + “Padre, can't you see——” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli shrank away, and stood still. + </p> + <p> + “Only not that!” he whispered at last. “My God, anything but that! If I am + going mad——” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly raised himself on one arm, and took the shaking hands in his. + </p> + <p> + “Padre, will you never understand that I am not really drowned?” + </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> + “Arthur,” Montanelli whispered, “are you real? Have you come back to me + from the dead?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “You have come back—you have come back at last!” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly sighed heavily. “Yes,” he said; “and you have to fight me, or + to kill me.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It happened simply enough. I hid on a goods vessel, as stowaway, and got + out to South America.” + </p> + <p> + “And there?” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + He broke off, shuddering. + </p> + <p> + “Once,” he began again abruptly, “I was working at a mine in Ecuador——” + </p> + <p> + “Not as a miner?” + </p> + <p> + “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———!” + </p> + <p> + He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli was still clasping the other. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You have that still to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Arthur!” It was a cry of actual terror; but the Gadfly went on, + unheeding: + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Consent! My God—consent—Arthur, but I love you!” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully. + </p> + <p> + “Which do you love best, me or that thing?” + </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> + “Arthur, have just a little mercy on me——” + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + He tore open his shirt and showed the ghastly scars. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly turned to him a spectral face. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't understand,” Montanelli repeated wearily. “What is there I can + choose? I cannot undo the past.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli looked up, trembling faintly. He was beginning to understand. + </p> + <p> + “I will communicate with your friends, of course. But—to go with you—it + is impossible—I am a priest.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I give you up? Arthur, how can I give you up?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you have me tear my heart in two? Arthur! Arthur! Do you want to + drive me mad?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly struck his hand against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “You have to choose between us,” he repeated once more. + </p> + <p> + Montanelli drew from his breast a little case containing a bit of soiled + and crumpled paper. + </p> + <p> + “Look!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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.” + </p> + <p> + “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———” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly flung out both hands with a sharp cry. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He caught hold of Montanelli's hands and covered them with burning kisses + and tears. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli tore his hands away. “Oh, God have mercy on me!” he cried out. + “YOU HAVE YOUR MOTHER'S EYES!” + </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> + “Have you anything more to say?” Montanelli whispered. “Any—hope to + give me?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli turned to the crucifix. “God! Listen to this——” + </p> + <p> + His voice died away into the empty stillness without response. Only the + mocking devil awoke again in the Gadfly. + </p> + <p> + “'C-c-call him louder; perchance he s-s-sleepeth'——” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “There is no use in talking any more,” he said. “You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” the Gadfly answered, with dull submission. “It's not your + fault. Your God is hungry, and must be fed.” + </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 “Go!” He turned, and went + out of the cell. A moment later the Gadfly started up. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can't bear it! Padre, come back! Come back!” + </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—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: “to be shot,” did not seem to affect him much. + When they were uttered, the pupils of his eyes dilated, but that was all. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, yes!” he said. “I forgot.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Wait, sergeant; I want to speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly did not move, and the Governor's voice seemed to fall on + unresponsive ears. + </p> + <p> + “If you have any message you would like conveyed to your friends or + relatives—— You have relatives, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + There was no answer. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly looked up. + </p> + <p> + “Tell the priest I would rather be alone. I have no friends and no + messages.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will want to confess.” + </p> + <p> + “I am an atheist. I want nothing but to be left in peace.” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “Shall I stand here, sergeant?” + </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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + He glanced round at the gloomy faces of the carabineers. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “YOU will use field-guns! Oh, unhappy man! Have you still not realized on + what frightful brink you stand?” + </p> + <p> + The Gadfly glanced back over his shoulder at the open grave. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, merciful God,” the priest cried out; “forgive this wretched man!” + </p> + <p> + “Amen!” 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> + “I am quite ready,” 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> + “Ready—present—fire!” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “Fire!” 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: “I can't—I can't!” + </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> + “Another miss! Try—again, lads—see—if you can't——” + </p> + <p> + He suddenly swayed and fell over sideways on the grass. + </p> + <p> + “Is he dead?” the colonel asked under his breath; and the doctor, kneeling + down, with a hand on the bloody shirt, answered softly: + </p> + <p> + “I think so—God be praised!” + </p> + <p> + “God be praised!” the colonel repeated. “At last!” + </p> + <p> + His nephew was touching him on the arm. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle! It's the Cardinal! He's at the gate and wants to come in.” + </p> + <p> + “What? He can't come in—I won't have it! What are the guards about? + Your Eminence——” + </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> + “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——” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” one of the soldiers cried out suddenly; and the Governor + glanced hastily back. Surely——— + </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> + “Make haste!” he cried in desperation. “You savages, make haste! Get it + over, for God's sake! There's no bearing this!” + </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> + “In the name of the Father and of the Son——” + </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> + “Padre—is your—God—satisfied?” + </p> + <p> + His head fell back on the doctor's arm. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Your Eminence!” + </p> + <p> + As the Cardinal did not awake from his stupor, Colonel Ferrari repeated, + louder: + </p> + <p> + “Your Eminence!” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli looked up. + </p> + <p> + “He is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite dead, your Eminence. Will you not come away? This is a horrible + sight.” + </p> + <p> + “He is dead,” Montanelli repeated, and looked down again at the face. “I + touched him; and he is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The Governor put his hand firmly on Montanelli's arm. + </p> + <p> + “Your Eminence—you had better not look at him any longer. Will you + allow the chaplain to escort you home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I will go.” + </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> + “He is dead.” + </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. “She + will break her heart over it soon enough,” 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> + “Any news, Marcone? Ah!” + </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> + “When was it?” he asked after a long pause; and his own voice, in his + ears, was as dull and wearisome as everything else. + </p> + <p> + “This morning, at sunrise. The sergeant told me. He was there and saw it.” + </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—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. + </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> + “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “I was saying that of course you will break the news to her.” + </p> + <p> + Life, and all the horror of life, came back into Martini's face. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “Have you heard, Cesare?” she said. “It is all over. They have shot him.” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “I'm afraid His Eminence is not well,” one of the canons whispered to his + neighbour; “he seems so strange.” + </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> + “Your Eminence, are you ill?” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli turned slightly towards him. There was no recognition in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </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: “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. + </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: “The old Cardinal's breaking, not a doubt of it. He goes through + his work like a machine.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “He did give in, though, about the court-martial.” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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 “a painful necessity of state.” + </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> + “Your Eminence!” + </p> + <p> + The Cardinal looked round. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure the procession will not be too much for you? The sun + is very hot.” + </p> + <p> + “What does the sun matter?” + </p> + <p> + Montanelli spoke in a cold, measured voice, and the priest again fancied + that he must have given offence. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me, Your Eminence. I thought you seemed unwell.” + </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> + “What is that?” + </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> + “It's only the sunlight shining through a coloured window, Your Eminence.” + </p> + <p> + “The sunlight? Is it so red?” + </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"> + “Pange, lingua, g]oriosi + Corporis mysterium, + Sanguinisque pretiosi + Quem in mundi pretium, + Fructus ventris generosi + Rex effudit gentium.” + </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: “One, two; + one, two!” 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—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"> + “Verbum caro, panem verum, + Verbo carnem efficit; + Sitque sanguis Christi merum——” + </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—— 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! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Tantum ergo Sacramentum, + Veneremur cernui.” + </pre> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + The voices of the choristers rose higher, triumphantly: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Genitori, genitoque, + Laus et jubilatio, + Salus, honor, virtus quoque, + Sit et benedictio.” + </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> + “Ah, call Him louder; perchance He sleepeth! + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + Then the Thing behind the crystal shield made answer, and the blood + dripped down as It spoke: + </p> + <p> + “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.'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Arthur, Arthur; there is greater love than this! If a man lay down + the life of his best beloved, is not that greater?” + </p> + <p> + And It answered again: + </p> + <p> + “Who is thy best beloved? In sooth, not I.” + </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"> + “Dedit fragilibus corporis ferculum, + Dedit et tristibus sanguinis poculum, + Dicens: Accipite, quod trado vasculum + Omnes ex eo bibite.” + </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—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—— + </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: “Give! Give!” and they say not: “It is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + And It answered yet again: + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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"> + “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.” + </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"> + “Oh salutaris Hostia, + Quae coeli pandis ostium; + Bella praemunt hostilia, + Da robur, fer, auxilium!” + </pre> + <p> + 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. + </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"> + “Uni trinoque Domino + Sit sempiterna gloria: + Qui vitam sine termino + Nobis donet in patria.” + </pre> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “His Eminence is going to speak.” + </p> + <p> + 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?” + </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> + “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: + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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? + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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> + “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!” + </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> + “What is this? Is there not blood enough? Wait your turn, jackals; you + shall all be fed!” + </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> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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> + “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. + </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> + “A man, Cesare? What does he want?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, dear. He wouldn't tell me. He said he must speak to you + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I would rather go on working.” + </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> + “Can you speak German?” he asked in the heavy Zurich patois. + </p> + <p> + “A little. I hear you want to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are Signora Bolla? I've brought you a letter.” + </p> + <p> + “A—letter?” She was beginning to tremble, and rested one hand on the + table to steady herself. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + She bent her head down. So he had written after all. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I shall not say anything. No, wait a minute——” + </p> + <p> + As he turned to go, she stopped him, feeling for her purse; but he drew + back, offended. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + The little catch in his voice made her look up. He was slowly rubbing a + grimy sleeve across his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “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——” + </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> + “Dear Jim.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + Presently she took up the paper again and went on reading: + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “That is all. Good-bye, my dear.” + </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"> + “Then am I + A happy fly, + If I live + Or if I die.” + +</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> + “Gemma! What is it, for God's sake? Don't sob like that—you that + never cry! Gemma! Gemma, my darling!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, Cesare; I will tell you afterwards—I—can't talk + about it just now.” + </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—and she had not even noticed it! + </p> + <p> + “The Cathedral bell is tolling,” she said after a little while, looking + round with recovered self-command. “Someone must be dead.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “What would you have, Madonna? Aneurism is as good a word as any other.” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gadfly, by E. L. 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