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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.08.01*END** +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +This etext was produced by Judy Boss. + + + + + +THE GADFLY + +by E. L. VOYNICH + + + + +"What have we to do with Thee, Thou Jesus of Nazareth?" + + + +AUTHOR'S PREFACE. + + +MY most cordial thanks are due to the many +persons who helped me to collect, in Italy, the +materials for this story. I am especially indebted +to the officials of the Marucelliana Library of +Florence, and of the State Archives and Civic +Museum of Bologna, for their courtesy and +kindness. + + + + + +THE GADFLY + + + + +PART I. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Arthur sat in the library of the theological +seminary at Pisa, looking through a pile of manuscript +sermons. It was a hot evening in June, and +the windows stood wide open, with the shutters +half closed for coolness. The Father Director, +Canon Montanelli, paused a moment in his writing +to glance lovingly at the black head bent over +the papers. + +"Can't you find it, carino? Never mind; I +must rewrite the passage. Possibly it has got +torn up, and I have kept you all this time for +nothing." + +Montanelli's voice was rather low, but full and +resonant, with a silvery purity of tone that gave to +his speech a peculiar charm. It was the voice of a +born orator, rich in possible modulations. When +he spoke to Arthur its note was always that of a +caress. + +"No, Padre, I must find it; I'm sure you put +it here. You will never make it the same by +rewriting." + +Montanelli went on with his work. A sleepy +cockchafer hummed drowsily outside the window, +and the long, melancholy call of a fruitseller echoed +down the street: "Fragola! fragola!" + +"'On the Healing of the Leper'; here it is." +Arthur came across the room with the velvet tread +that always exasperated the good folk at home. +He was a slender little creature, more like an Italian +in a sixteenth-century portrait than a middle-class +English lad of the thirties. From the long +eyebrows and sensitive mouth to the small hands +and feet, everything about him was too much +chiseled, overdelicate. Sitting still, he might +have been taken for a very pretty girl masquerading +in male attire; but when he moved, his lithe +agility suggested a tame panther without the +claws. + +"Is that really it? What should I do +without you, Arthur? I should always be losing +my things. No, I am not going to write any +more now. Come out into the garden, and I will +help you with your work. What is the bit you +couldn't understand?" + +They went out into the still, shadowy cloister +garden. The seminary occupied the buildings of +an old Dominican monastery, and two hundred +years ago the square courtyard had been stiff and +trim, and the rosemary and lavender had grown in +close-cut bushes between the straight box edgings. +Now the white-robed monks who had tended +them were laid away and forgotten; but the +scented herbs flowered still in the gracious mid-summer +evening, though no man gathered their +blossoms for simples any more. Tufts of wild +parsley and columbine filled the cracks between +the flagged footways, and the well in the middle +of the courtyard was given up to ferns and matted +stone-crop. The roses had run wild, and their +straggling suckers trailed across the paths; in the +box borders flared great red poppies; tall foxgloves +drooped above the tangled grasses; and the +old vine, untrained and barren of fruit, swayed +from the branches of the neglected medlar-tree, +shaking a leafy head with slow and sad persistence. + +In one corner stood a huge summer-flowering +magnolia, a tower of dark foliage, splashed +here and there with milk-white blossoms. A +rough wooden bench had been placed against the +trunk; and on this Montanelli sat down. Arthur +was studying philosophy at the university; and, +coming to a difficulty with a book, had applied to +"the Padre" for an explanation of the point. +Montanelli was a universal encyclopaedia to him, +though he had never been a pupil of the seminary. + +"I had better go now," he said when the passage +had been cleared up; "unless you want me for +anything." + +"I don't want to work any more, but I should +like you to stay a bit if you have time." + +"Oh, yes!" He leaned back against the tree-trunk +and looked up through the dusky branches +at the first faint stars glimmering in a quiet sky. +The dreamy, mystical eyes, deep blue under black +lashes, were an inheritance from his Cornish +mother, and Montanelli turned his head away, that +he might not see them. + +"You are looking tired, carino," he said. + +"I can't help it." There was a weary sound +in Arthur's voice, and the Padre noticed it at +once. + +"You should not have gone up to college so +soon; you were tired out with sick-nursing and +being up at night. I ought to have insisted on +your taking a thorough rest before you left +Leghorn." + +"Oh, Padre, what's the use of that? I couldn't +stop in that miserable house after mother died. +Julia would have driven me mad!" + +Julia was his eldest step-brother's wife, and a +thorn in his side. + +"I should not have wished you to stay with your +relatives," Montanelli answered gently. "I am +sure it would have been the worst possible thing +for you. But I wish you could have accepted the +invitation of your English doctor friend; if you had +spent a month in his house you would have been +more fit to study." + +"No, Padre, I shouldn't indeed! The Warrens +are very good and kind, but they don't understand; +and then they are sorry for me,--I can see it in +all their faces,--and they would try to console me, +and talk about mother. Gemma wouldn't, of +course; she always knew what not to say, even +when we were babies; but the others would. +And it isn't only that----" + +"What is it then, my son?" + +Arthur pulled off some blossoms from a drooping +foxglove stem and crushed them nervously in +his hand. + +"I can't bear the town," he began after a moment's +pause. "There are the shops where she +used to buy me toys when I was a little thing, and +the walk along the shore where I used to take her +until she got too ill. Wherever I go it's the same +thing; every market-girl comes up to me with +bunches of flowers--as if I wanted them now! +And there's the church-yard--I had to get away; +it made me sick to see the place----" + +He broke off and sat tearing the foxglove bells +to pieces. The silence was so long and deep that +he looked up, wondering why the Padre did not +speak. It was growing dark under the branches +of the magnolia, and everything seemed dim and +indistinct; but there was light enough to show the +ghastly paleness of Montanelli's face. He was +bending his head down, his right hand tightly +clenched upon the edge of the bench. Arthur +looked away with a sense of awe-struck wonder. +It was as though he had stepped unwittingly on to +holy ground. + +"My God!" he thought; "how small and selfish +I am beside him! If my trouble were his own he +couldn't feel it more." + +Presently Montanelli raised his head and looked +round. "I won't press you to go back there; at +all events, just now," he said in his most caressing +tone; "but you must promise me to take a +thorough rest when your vacation begins this +summer. I think you had better get a holiday +right away from the neighborhood of Leghorn. I +can't have you breaking down in health." + +"Where shall you go when the seminary closes, +Padre?" + +"I shall have to take the pupils into the hills, +as usual, and see them settled there. But by the +middle of August the subdirector will be back +from his holiday. I shall try to get up into the +Alps for a little change. Will you come with me? +I could take you for some long mountain rambles, +and you would like to study the Alpine mosses and +lichens. But perhaps it would be rather dull for +you alone with me?" + +"Padre!" Arthur clasped his hands in what +Julia called his "demonstrative foreign way." "I +would give anything on earth to go away with +you. Only--I am not sure----" He stopped. + +"You don't think Mr. Burton would allow +it?" + +"He wouldn't like it, of course, but he could +hardly interfere. I am eighteen now and can do +what I choose. After all, he's only my step-brother; +I don't see that I owe him obedience. +He was always unkind to mother." + +"But if he seriously objects, I think you had +better not defy his wishes; you may find your +position at home made much harder if----" + +"Not a bit harder!" Arthur broke in passionately. +"They always did hate me and always +will--it doesn't matter what I do. Besides, how +can James seriously object to my going away with +you--with my father confessor?" + +"He is a Protestant, remember. However, you +had better write to him, and we will wait to hear +what he thinks. But you must not be impatient, +my son; it matters just as much what you do, +whether people hate you or love you." + +The rebuke was so gently given that Arthur +hardly coloured under it. "Yes, I know," he +answered, sighing; "but it is so difficult----" + +"I was sorry you could not come to me on +Tuesday evening," Montanelli said, abruptly introducing +a new subject. "The Bishop of Arezzo +was here, and I should have liked you to meet +him." + +"I had promised one of the students to go to a +meeting at his lodgings, and they would have been +expecting me." + +"What sort of meeting?" + +Arthur seemed embarrassed by the question. +"It--it was n-not a r-regular meeting," he said +with a nervous little stammer. "A student had +come from Genoa, and he made a speech to us-- +a-a sort of--lecture." + +"What did he lecture about?" + +Arthur hesitated. "You won't ask me his +name, Padre, will you? Because I promised----" + +"I will ask you no questions at all, and if you +have promised secrecy of course you must not tell +me; but I think you can almost trust me by this +time." + +"Padre, of course I can. He spoke about--us +and our duty to the people--and to--our own +selves; and about--what we might do to +help----" + +"To help whom?" + +"The contadini--and----" + +"And?" + +"Italy." + +There was a long silence. + +"Tell me, Arthur," said Montanelli, turning to +him and speaking very gravely, "how long have +you been thinking about this?" + +"Since--last winter." + +"Before your mother's death? And did she +know of it?" + +"N-no. I--I didn't care about it then." + +"And now you--care about it?" + +Arthur pulled another handful of bells off the +foxglove. + +"It was this way, Padre," he began, with his +eyes on the ground. "When I was preparing for +the entrance examination last autumn, I got to +know a good many of the students; you remember? +Well, some of them began to talk to me +about--all these things, and lent me books. But +I didn't care much about it; I always wanted to +get home quick to mother. You see, she was quite +alone among them all in that dungeon of a house; +and Julia's tongue was enough to kill her. Then, +in the winter, when she got so ill, I forgot all about +the students and their books; and then, you know, +I left off coming to Pisa altogether. I should have +talked to mother if I had thought of it; but it went +right out of my head. Then I found out that she +was going to die----You know, I was almost +constantly with her towards the end; often I would +sit up the night, and Gemma Warren would come +in the day to let me get to sleep. Well, it was in +those long nights; I got thinking about the books +and about what the students had said--and wondering-- +whether they were right and--what-- +Our Lord would have said about it all." + +"Did you ask Him?" Montanelli's voice was +not quite steady. + +"Often, Padre. Sometimes I have prayed to +Him to tell me what I must do, or to let me die +with mother. But I couldn't find any answer." + +"And you never said a word to me. Arthur, I +hoped you could have trusted me." + +"Padre, you know I trust you! But there are +some things you can't talk about to anyone. I--it +seemed to me that no one could help me--not +even you or mother; I must have my own answer +straight from God. You see, it is for all my life +and all my soul." + +Montanelli turned away and stared into the +dusky gloom of the magnolia branches. The +twilight was so dim that his figure had a shadowy +look, like a dark ghost among the darker boughs. + +"And then?" he asked slowly. + +"And then--she died. You know, I had been +up the last three nights with her----" + +He broke off and paused a moment, but Montanelli +did not move. + +"All those two days before they buried her," +Arthur went on in a lower voice, "I couldn't think +about anything. Then, after the funeral, I was ill; +you remember, I couldn't come to confession." + +"Yes; I remember." + +"Well, in the night I got up and went into +mother's room. It was all empty; there was only +the great crucifix in the alcove. And I thought +perhaps God would help me. I knelt down +and waited--all night. And in the morning +when I came to my senses--Padre, it isn't any use; +I can't explain. I can't tell you what I saw--I +hardly know myself. But I know that God has +answered me, and that I dare not disobey Him." + +For a moment they sat quite silent in the darkness. +Then Montanelli turned and laid his hand +on Arthur's shoulder. + +"My son," he said, "God forbid that I should +say He has not spoken to your soul. But remember +your condition when this thing happened, and +do not take the fancies of grief or illness for His +solemn call. And if, indeed, it has been His will +to answer you out of the shadow of death, be sure +that you put no false construction on His word. +What is this thing you have it in your heart +to do?" + +Arthur stood up and answered slowly, as though +repeating a catechism: + +"To give up my life to Italy, to help in freeing +her from all this slavery and wretchedness, and in +driving out the Austrians, that she may be a +free republic, with no king but Christ." + +"Arthur, think a moment what you are saying! +You are not even an Italian." + +"That makes no difference; I am myself. I +have seen this thing, and I belong to it." + +There was silence again. + +"You spoke just now of what Christ would have +said----" Montanelli began slowly; but Arthur +interrupted him: + +"Christ said: 'He that loseth his life for my +sake shall find it.'" + +Montanelli leaned his arm against a branch, and +shaded his eyes with one hand. + +"Sit down a moment, my son," he said at +last. + +Arthur sat down, and the Padre took both his +hands in a strong and steady clasp. + +"I cannot argue with you to-night," he said; +"this has come upon me so suddenly--I had not +thought--I must have time to think it over. +Later on we will talk more definitely. But, for +just now, I want you to remember one thing. If +you get into trouble over this, if you--die, you +will break my heart." + +"Padre----" + +"No; let me finish what I have to say. I told +you once that I have no one in the world but you. +I think you do not fully understand what that +means. It is difficult when one is so young; at +your age I should not have understood. Arthur, +you are as my--as my--own son to me. Do you +see? You are the light of my eyes and the desire +of my heart. I would die to keep you from making +a false step and ruining your life. But there +is nothing I can do. I don't ask you to make any +promises to me; I only ask you to remember this, +and to be careful. Think well before you take an +irrevocable step, for my sake, if not for the sake +of your mother in heaven." + +"I will think--and--Padre, pray for me, and for +Italy." + +He knelt down in silence, and in silence Montanelli +laid his hand on the bent head. A moment +later Arthur rose, kissed the hand, and went +softly away across the dewy grass. Montanelli +sat alone under the magnolia tree, looking straight +before him into the blackness. + +"It is the vengeance of God that has fallen upon +me," he thought, "as it fell upon David. I, that +have defiled His sanctuary, and taken the Body of +the Lord into polluted hands,--He has been very +patient with me, and now it is come. 'For thou +didst it secretly, but I will do this thing before all +Israel, and before the sun; THE CHILD THAT IS BORN +UNTO THEE SHALL SURELY DIE.'" + + + +CHAPTER II. + +MR. JAMES BURTON did not at all like the idea +of his young step-brother "careering about Switzerland" +with Montanelli. But positively to forbid +a harmless botanizing tour with an elderly professor +of theology would seem to Arthur, who knew +nothing of the reason for the prohibition, absurdly +tyrannical. He would immediately attribute it to +religious or racial prejudice; and the Burtons +prided themselves on their enlightened tolerance. +The whole family had been staunch Protestants +and Conservatives ever since Burton & Sons, ship-owners, +of London and Leghorn, had first set up +in business, more than a century back. But they +held that English gentlemen must deal fairly, even +with Papists; and when the head of the house, +finding it dull to remain a widower, had married +the pretty Catholic governess of his younger children, +the two elder sons, James and Thomas, much +as they resented the presence of a step-mother +hardly older than themselves, had submitted with +sulky resignation to the will of Providence. Since +the father's death the eldest brother's marriage +had further complicated an already difficult position; +but both brothers had honestly tried to +protect Gladys, as long as she lived, from Julia's +merciless tongue, and to do their duty, as they +understood it, by Arthur. They did not even pretend +to like the lad, and their generosity towards +him showed itself chiefly in providing him with +lavish supplies of pocket money and allowing him +to go his own way. + +In answer to his letter, accordingly, Arthur received +a cheque to cover his expenses and a cold +permission to do as he pleased about his holidays. +He expended half his spare cash on botanical books +and pressing-cases, and started off with the Padre +for his first Alpine ramble. + +Montanelli was in lighter spirits than Arthur +had seen him in for a long while. After the first +shock of the conversation in the garden he had +gradually recovered his mental balance, and now +looked upon the case more calmly. Arthur was +very young and inexperienced; his decision could +hardly be, as yet, irrevocable. Surely there was +still time to win him back by gentle persuasion and +reasoning from the dangerous path upon which +he had barely entered. + +They had intended to stay a few days at Geneva; +but at the first sight of the glaring white streets +and dusty, tourist-crammed promenades, a little +frown appeared on Arthur's face. Montanelli +watched him with quiet amusement. + +"You don't like it, carino?" + +"I hardly know. It's so different from what I +expected. Yes, the lake is beautiful, and I like the +shape of those hills." They were standing on +Rousseau's Island, and he pointed to the long, +severe outlines of the Savoy side. "But the town +looks so stiff and tidy, somehow--so Protestant; +it has a self-satisfied air. No, I don't like it; it +reminds me of Julia." + +Montanelli laughed. "Poor boy, what a misfortune! +Well, we are here for our own amusement, so there +is no reason why we should stop. Suppose we take a +sail on the lake to-day, and go up into the mountains +to-morrow morning?" + +"But, Padre, you wanted to stay here?" + +"My dear boy, I have seen all these places a +dozen times. My holiday is to see your pleasure. +Where would you like to go?" + +"If it is really the same to you, I should like to +follow the river back to its source." + +"The Rhone?" + +"No, the Arve; it runs so fast." + +"Then we will go to Chamonix." + +They spent the afternoon drifting about in a +little sailing boat. The beautiful lake produced +far less impression upon Arthur than the gray and +muddy Arve. He had grown up beside the Mediterranean, +and was accustomed to blue ripples; +but he had a positive passion for swiftly moving +water, and the hurried rushing of the glacier +stream delighted him beyond measure. "It is so +much in earnest," he said. + +Early on the following morning they started for +Chamonix. Arthur was in very high spirits while +driving through the fertile valley country; but +when they entered upon the winding road near +Cluses, and the great, jagged hills closed in around +them, he became serious and silent. From St. Martin +they walked slowly up the valley, stopping to +sleep at wayside chalets or tiny mountain villages, +and wandering on again as their fancy directed. +Arthur was peculiarly sensitive to the influence of +scenery, and the first waterfall that they passed +threw him into an ecstacy which was delightful to +see; but as they drew nearer to the snow-peaks +he passed out of this rapturous mood into one of +dreamy exaltation that Montanelli had not seen +before. There seemed to be a kind of mystical relationship +between him and the mountains. He +would lie for hours motionless in the dark, secret, +echoing pine-forests, looking out between the +straight, tall trunks into the sunlit outer world of +flashing peaks and barren cliffs. Montanelli +watched him with a kind of sad envy. + +"I wish you could show me what you see, +carino," he said one day as he looked up from his +book, and saw Arthur stretched beside him on the +moss in the same attitude as an hour before, gazing +out with wide, dilated eyes into the glittering +expanse of blue and white. They had turned aside +from the high-road to sleep at a quiet village near +the falls of the Diosaz, and, the sun being already +low in a cloudless sky, had mounted a point of pine-clad +rock to wait for the Alpine glow over the +dome and needles of the Mont Blanc chain. Arthur +raised his head with eyes full of wonder and +mystery. + +"What I see, Padre? I see a great, white being +in a blue void that has no beginning and no end. +I see it waiting, age after age, for the coming of the +Spirit of God. I see it through a glass darkly." + +Montanelli sighed. + +"I used to see those things once." + +"Do you never see them now?" + +"Never. I shall not see them any more. They +are there, I know; but I have not the eyes to see +them. I see quite other things." + +"What do you see?" + +"I, carino? I see a blue sky and a snow-mountain +--that is all when I look up into the heights. +But down there it is different." + +He pointed to the valley below them. Arthur +knelt down and bent over the sheer edge of the +precipice. The great pine trees, dusky in the gathering +shades of evening, stood like sentinels along +the narrow banks confining the river. Presently +the sun, red as a glowing coal, dipped behind a +jagged mountain peak, and all the life and light +deserted the face of nature. Straightway there +came upon the valley something dark and threatening +--sullen, terrible, full of spectral weapons. +The perpendicular cliffs of the barren western +mountains seemed like the teeth of a monster +lurking to snatch a victim and drag him down into +the maw of the deep valley, black with its moaning +forests. The pine trees were rows of knife-blades +whispering: "Fall upon us!" and in the +gathering darkness the torrent roared and howled, +beating against its rocky prison walls with the +frenzy of an everlasting despair. + +"Padre!" Arthur rose, shuddering, and drew +back from the precipice. "It is like hell." + +"No, my son," Montanelli answered softly, "it +is only like a human soul." + +"The souls of them that sit in darkness and in +the shadow of death?" + +"The souls of them that pass you day by day +in the street." + +Arthur shivered, looking down into the shadows. +A dim white mist was hovering among the +pine trees, clinging faintly about the desperate +agony of the torrent, like a miserable ghost that +had no consolation to give. + +"Look!" Arthur said suddenly. "The people +that walked in darkness have seen a great +light." + +Eastwards the snow-peaks burned in the afterglow. +When the red light had faded from the +summits Montanelli turned and roused Arthur +with a touch on the shoulder. + +"Come in, carino; all the light is gone. We +shall lose our way in the dark if we stay any +longer." + +"It is like a corpse," Arthur said as he turned +away from the spectral face of the great snow-peak +glimmering through the twilight. + +They descended cautiously among the black +trees to the chalet where they were to sleep. + +As Montanelli entered the room where Arthur +was waiting for him at the supper table, he saw +that the lad seemed to have shaken off the ghostly +fancies of the dark, and to have changed into quite +another creature. + +"Oh, Padre, do come and look at this absurd +dog! It can dance on its hind legs." + +He was as much absorbed in the dog and its +accomplishments as he had been in the after-glow. +The woman of the chalet, red-faced and white-aproned, +with sturdy arms akimbo, stood by smiling, +while he put the animal through its tricks. +"One can see there's not much on his mind if he +can carry on that way," she said in patois to her +daughter. "And what a handsome lad!" + +Arthur coloured like a schoolgirl, and the +woman, seeing that he had understood, went away +laughing at his confusion. At supper he talked of +nothing but plans for excursions, mountain +ascents, and botanizing expeditions. Evidently +his dreamy fancies had not interfered with either +his spirits or his appetite. + +When Montanelli awoke the next morning Arthur +had disappeared. He had started before daybreak +for the higher pastures "to help Gaspard +drive up the goats." + +Breakfast had not long been on the table, however, +when he came tearing into the room, hatless, +with a tiny peasant girl of three years old +perched on his shoulder, and a great bunch of wild +flowers in his hand. + +Montanelli looked up, smiling. This was a curious +contrast to the grave and silent Arthur of Pisa +or Leghorn. + +"Where have you been, you madcap? Scampering +all over the mountains without any breakfast?" + +"Oh, Padre, it was so jolly! The mountains +look perfectly glorious at sunrise; and the dew is +so thick! Just look!" + +He lifted for inspection a wet and muddy boot. + +"We took some bread and cheese with us, and +got some goat's milk up there on the pasture; oh, it +was nasty! But I'm hungry again, now; and I +want something for this little person, too. +Annette, won't you have some honey?" + +He had sat down with the child on his knee, and +was helping her to put the flowers in order. + +"No, no!" Montanelli interposed. "I can't +have you catching cold. Run and change your wet +things. Come to me, Annette. Where did you +pick her up?" + +"At the top of the village. She belongs to the +man we saw yesterday--the man that cobbles the +commune's boots. Hasn't she lovely eyes? She's +got a tortoise in her pocket, and she calls it +'Caroline.'" + +When Arthur had changed his wet socks and +came down to breakfast he found the child seated +on the Padre's knee, chattering volubly to him +about her tortoise, which she was holding upside +down in a chubby hand, that "monsieur" might +admire the wriggling legs. + +"Look, monsieur!" she was saying gravely in +her half-intelligible patois: "Look at Caroline's +boots!" + +Montanelli sat playing with the child, stroking +her hair, admiring her darling tortoise, and telling +her wonderful stories. The woman of the +chalet, coming in to clear the table, stared in +amazement at the sight of Annette turning out +the pockets of the grave gentleman in clerical +dress. + +"God teaches the little ones to know a good +man," she said. "Annette is always afraid of +strangers; and see, she is not shy with his reverence +at all. The wonderful thing! Kneel down, +Annette, and ask the good monsieur's blessing +before he goes; it will bring thee luck." + +"I didn't know you could play with children +that way, Padre," Arthur said an hour later, as +they walked through the sunlit pasture-land. +"That child never took her eyes off you all the +time. Do you know, I think----" + +"Yes?" + +"I was only going to say--it seems to me +almost a pity that the Church should forbid priests +to marry. I cannot quite understand why. You +see, the training of children is such a serious thing, +and it means so much to them to be surrounded +from the very beginning with good influences, that +I should have thought the holier a man's vocation +and the purer his life, the more fit he is to be a +father. I am sure, Padre, if you had not been +under a vow,--if you had married,--your children +would have been the very----" + +"Hush!" + +The word was uttered in a hasty whisper that +seemed to deepen the ensuing silence. + +"Padre," Arthur began again, distressed by the +other's sombre look, "do you think there is anything +wrong in what I said? Of course I may be +mistaken; but I must think as it comes natural to +me to think." + +"Perhaps," Montanelli answered gently, "you +do not quite realize the meaning of what you just +said. You will see differently in a few years. +Meanwhile we had better talk about something +else." + +It was the first break in the perfect ease and harmony +that reigned between them on this ideal holiday. + +From Chamonix they went on by the Tete-Noire +to Martigny, where they stopped to rest, +as the weather was stiflingly hot. After dinner +they sat on the terrace of the hotel, which was +sheltered from the sun and commanded a good +view of the mountains. Arthur brought out his +specimen box and plunged into an earnest botanical +discussion in Italian. + +Two English artists were sitting on the terrace; +one sketching, the other lazily chatting. It did +not seem to have occurred to him that the strangers +might understand English. + +"Leave off daubing at the landscape, Willie," +he said; "and draw that glorious Italian boy going +into ecstasies over those bits of ferns. Just look +at the line of his eyebrows! You only need to put +a crucifix for the magnifying-glass and a Roman +toga for the jacket and knickerbockers, and there's +your Early Christian complete, expression and +all." + +"Early Christian be hanged! I sat beside that +youth at dinner; he was just as ecstatic over the +roast fowl as over those grubby little weeds. He's +pretty enough; that olive colouring is beautiful; +but he's not half so picturesque as his father." + +"His--who?" + +"His father, sitting there straight in front of +you. Do you mean to say you've passed him over? +It's a perfectly magnificent face." + +"Why, you dunder-headed, go-to-meeting +Methodist! Don't you know a Catholic priest +when you see one?" + +"A priest? By Jove, so he is! Yes, I forgot; +vow of chastity, and all that sort of thing. Well +then, we'll be charitable and suppose the boy's his +nephew." + +"What idiotic people!" Arthur whispered, +looking up with dancing eyes. "Still, it is kind of +them to think me like you; I wish I were really +your nephew----Padre, what is the matter? +How white you are!" + +Montanelli was standing up, pressing one hand +to his forehead. "I am a little giddy," he said in +a curiously faint, dull tone. "Perhaps I was too +much in the sun this morning. I will go and lie +down, carino; it's nothing but the heat." + + . . . . . + +After a fortnight beside the Lake of Lucerne +Arthur and Montanelli returned to Italy by the +St. Gothard Pass. They had been fortunate as +to weather and had made several very pleasant excursions; +but the first charm was gone out of their +enjoyment. Montanelli was continually haunted +by an uneasy thought of the "more definite talk" +for which this holiday was to have been the opportunity. +In the Arve valley he had purposely +put off all reference to the subject of which they +had spoken under the magnolia tree; it would be +cruel, he thought, to spoil the first delights of +Alpine scenery for a nature so artistic as Arthur's +by associating them with a conversation which +must necessarily be painful. Ever since the day +at Martigny he had said to himself each morning; +"I will speak to-day," and each evening: "I will +speak to-morrow;" and now the holiday was over, +and he still repeated again and again: "To-morrow, +to-morrow." A chill, indefinable sense of +something not quite the same as it had been, of +an invisible veil falling between himself and +Arthur, kept him silent, until, on the last evening +of their holiday, he realized suddenly that +he must speak now if he would speak at all. +They were stopping for the night at Lugano, +and were to start for Pisa next morning. He +would at least find out how far his darling had +been drawn into the fatal quicksand of Italian +politics. + +"The rain has stopped, carino," he said after +sunset; "and this is the only chance we shall have +to see the lake. Come out; I want to have a talk +with you." + +They walked along the water's edge to a quiet +spot and sat down on a low stone wall. Close +beside them grew a rose-bush, covered with scarlet +hips; one or two belated clusters of creamy +blossom still hung from an upper branch, swaying +mournfully and heavy with raindrops. On the +green surface of the lake a little boat, with white +wings faintly fluttering, rocked in the dewy breeze. +It looked as light and frail as a tuft of silvery +dandelion seed flung upon the water. High up +on Monte Salvatore the window of some shepherd's +hut opened a golden eye. The roses hung +their heads and dreamed under the still September +clouds, and the water plashed and murmured +softly among the pebbles of the shore. + +"This will be my only chance of a quiet talk +with you for a long time," Montanelli began. +"You will go back to your college work and +friends; and I, too, shall be very busy this winter. +I want to understand quite clearly what our position +as regards each other is to be; and so, if +you----" He stopped for a moment and then +continued more slowly: "If you feel that you can +still trust me as you used to do, I want you to tell +me more definitely than that night in the seminary +garden, how far you have gone." + +Arthur looked out across the water, listened +quietly, and said nothing. + +"I want to know, if you will tell me," Montanelli +went on; "whether you have bound yourself +by a vow, or--in any way." + +"There is nothing to tell, dear Padre; I have +not bound myself, but I am bound." + +"I don't understand------" + +"What is the use of vows? They are not what +binds people. If you feel in a certain way about +a thing, that binds you to it; if you don't feel that +way, nothing else can bind you." + +"Do you mean, then, that this thing--this-- +feeling is quite irrevocable? Arthur, have you +thought what you are saying?" + +Arthur turned round and looked straight into +Montanelli's eyes. + +"Padre, you asked me if I could trust you. +Can you not trust me, too? Indeed, if there were +anything to tell, I would tell it to you; but there +is no use in talking about these things. I have +not forgotten what you said to me that night; I +shall never forget it. But I must go my way and +follow the light that I see." + +Montanelli picked a rose from the bush, pulled +off the petals one by one, and tossed them into +the water. + +"You are right, carino. Yes, we will say no +more about these things; it seems there is indeed +no help in many words----Well, well, let us go +in." + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE autumn and winter passed uneventfully. +Arthur was reading hard and had little spare time. +He contrived to get a glimpse of Montanelli once +or oftener in every week, if only for a few +minutes. From time to time he would come +in to ask for help with some difficult book; but +on these occasions the subject of study was +strictly adhered to. Montanelli, feeling, rather +than observing, the slight, impalpable barrier that +had come between them, shrank from everything +which might seem like an attempt to retain the +old close relationship. Arthur's visits now caused +him more distress than pleasure, so trying was the +constant effort to appear at ease and to behave as +if nothing were altered. Arthur, for his part, +noticed, hardly understanding it, the subtle +change in the Padre's manner; and, vaguely feeling +that it had some connection with the vexed +question of the "new ideas," avoided all mention +of the subject with which his thoughts were constantly +filled. Yet he had never loved Montanelli +so deeply as now. The dim, persistent sense of +dissatisfaction, of spiritual emptiness, which he +had tried so hard to stifle under a load of theology +and ritual, had vanished into nothing at the touch +of Young Italy. All the unhealthy fancies born of +loneliness and sick-room watching had passed +away, and the doubts against which he used to +pray had gone without the need of exorcism. +With the awakening of a new enthusiasm, a +clearer, fresher religious ideal (for it was more in +this light than in that of a political development +that the students' movement had appeared to +him), had come a sense of rest and completeness, +of peace on earth and good will towards men; and +in this mood of solemn and tender exaltation all +the world seemed to him full of light. He found +a new element of something lovable in the persons +whom he had most disliked; and Montanelli, who +for five years had been his ideal hero, was now in +his eyes surrounded with an additional halo, as a +potential prophet of the new faith. He listened +with passionate eagerness to the Padre's sermons, +trying to find in them some trace of inner kinship +with the republican ideal; and pored over the +Gospels, rejoicing in the democratic tendencies of +Christianity at its origin. + +One day in January he called at the seminary to +return a book which he had borrowed. Hearing +that the Father Director was out, he went up to +Montanelli's private study, placed the volume on +its shelf, and was about to leave the room when +the title of a book lying on the table caught his +eyes. It was Dante's "De Monarchia." He +began to read it and soon became so absorbed that +when the door opened and shut he did not hear. +He was aroused from his preoccupation by Montanelli's +voice behind him. + +"I did not expect you to-day," said the Padre, +glancing at the title of the book. "I was just +going to send and ask if you could come to me +this evening." + +"Is it anything important? I have an engagement +for this evening; but I will miss it if------" + +"No; to-morrow will do. I want to see you +because I am going away on Tuesday. I have +been sent for to Rome." + +"To Rome? For long?" + +"The letter says, 'till after Easter.' It is from +the Vatican. I would have let you know at once, +but have been very busy settling up things about +the seminary and making arrangements for the new +Director." + +"But, Padre, surely you are not giving up the +seminary?" + +"It will have to be so; but I shall probably come +back to Pisa, for some time at least." + +"But why are you giving it up?" + +"Well, it is not yet officially announced; +but I am offered a bishopric." + +"Padre! Where?" + +"That is the point about which I have to go to +Rome. It is not yet decided whether I am to +take a see in the Apennines, or to remain here as +Suffragan." + +"And is the new Director chosen yet?" + +"Father Cardi has been nominated and arrives +here to-morrow." + +"Is not that rather sudden?" + +"Yes; but----The decisions of the Vatican +are sometimes not communicated till the last +moment." + +"Do you know the new Director?" + +"Not personally; but he is very highly spoken +of. Monsignor Belloni, who writes, says that he +is a man of great erudition." + +"The seminary will miss you terribly." + +"I don't know about the seminary, but I am sure +you will miss me, carino; perhaps almost as much +as I shall miss you." + +"I shall indeed; but I am very glad, for all +that." + +"Are you? I don't know that I am." He sat +down at the table with a weary look on his face; +not the look of a man who is expecting high +promotion. + +"Are you busy this afternoon, Arthur?" he said +after a moment. "If not, I wish you would stay +with me for a while, as you can't come to-night. +I am a little out of sorts, I think; and I want to +see as much of you as possible before leaving." + +"Yes, I can stay a bit. I am due at six." + +"One of your meetings?" + +Arthur nodded; and Montanelli changed the +subject hastily. + +"I want to speak to you about yourself," he +said. "You will need another confessor in my +absence." + +"When you come back I may go on confessing +to you, may I not?" + +"My dear boy, how can you ask? Of course I +am speaking only of the three or four months that +I shall be away. Will you go to one of the +Fathers of Santa Caterina?" + +"Very well." + +They talked of other matters for a little while; +then Arthur rose. + +"I must go, Padre; the students will be waiting +for me." + +The haggard look came back to Montanelli's +face. + +"Already? You had almost charmed away +my black mood. Well, good-bye." + +"Good-bye. I will be sure to come to-morrow." + +"Try to come early, so that I may have time +to see you alone. Father Cardi will be here. +Arthur, my dear boy, be careful while I am gone; +don't be led into doing anything rash, at least before +I come back. You cannot think how anxious +I feel about leaving you." + +"There is no need, Padre; everything is quite +quiet. It will be a long time yet." + +"Good-bye," Montanelli said abruptly, and sat +down to his writing. + +The first person upon whom Arthur's eyes fell, +as he entered the room where the students' little +gatherings were held, was his old playmate, Dr. +Warren's daughter. She was sitting in a corner +by the window, listening with an absorbed and +earnest face to what one of the "initiators," a tall +young Lombard in a threadbare coat, was saying +to her. During the last few months she had +changed and developed greatly, and now looked a +grown-up young woman, though the dense black +plaits still hung down her back in school-girl +fashion. She was dressed all in black, and had +thrown a black scarf over her head, as the room +was cold and draughty. At her breast was a spray +of cypress, the emblem of Young Italy. The +initiator was passionately describing to her the +misery of the Calabrian peasantry; and she sat +listening silently, her chin resting on one hand +and her eyes on the ground. To Arthur she +seemed a melancholy vision of Liberty mourning +for the lost Republic. (Julia would have seen in +her only an overgrown hoyden, with a sallow complexion, +an irregular nose, and an old stuff frock +that was too short for her.) + +"You here, Jim!" he said, coming up to her +when the initiator had been called to the other end +of the room. "Jim" was a childish corruption of +her curious baptismal name: Jennifer. Her Italian +schoolmates called her "Gemma." + +She raised her head with a start. + +"Arthur! Oh, I didn't know you--belonged +here!" + +"And I had no idea about you. Jim, since when +have you----?" + +"You don't understand!" she interposed +quickly. "I am not a member. It is only that +I have done one or two little things. You see, I +met Bini--you know Carlo Bini?" + +"Yes, of course." Bini was the organizer of the +Leghorn branch; and all Young Italy knew him. + +"Well, he began talking to me about these +things; and I asked him to let me go to a students' +meeting. The other day he wrote to me to +Florence------Didn't you know I had been to +Florence for the Christmas holidays?" + +"I don't often hear from home now." + +"Ah, yes! Anyhow, I went to stay with the +Wrights." (The Wrights were old schoolfellows +of hers who had moved to Florence.) "Then Bini +wrote and told me to pass through Pisa to-day on +my way home, so that I could come here. Ah! +they're going to begin." + +The lecture was upon the ideal Republic and +the duty of the young to fit themselves for it. +The lecturer's comprehension of his subject was +somewhat vague; but Arthur listened with devout +admiration. His mind at this period was curiously +uncritical; when he accepted a moral ideal +he swallowed it whole without stopping to think +whether it was quite digestible. When the lecture +and the long discussion which followed it were +finished and the students began to disperse, he +went up to Gemma, who was still sitting in the +corner of the room. + +"Let me walk with you, Jim. Where are you +staying?" + +"With Marietta." + +"Your father's old housekeeper?" + +"Yes; she lives a good way from here." + +They walked for some time in silence. Then +Arthur said suddenly: + +"You are seventeen, now, aren't you?" + +"I was seventeen in October." + +"I always knew you would not grow up like +other girls and begin wanting to go to balls and +all that sort of thing. Jim, dear, I have so often +wondered whether you would ever come to be +one of us." + +"So have I." + +"You said you had done things for Bini; I +didn't know you even knew him." + +"It wasn't for Bini; it was for the other one" + +"Which other one?" + +"The one that was talking to me to-night-- +Bolla." + +"Do you know him well?" Arthur put in with +a little touch of jealousy. Bolla was a sore subject +with him; there had been a rivalry between them +about some work which the committee of Young +Italy had finally intrusted to Bolla, declaring +Arthur too young and inexperienced. + +"I know him pretty well; and I like him very +much. He has been staying in Leghorn." + +"I know; he went there in November------" + +"Because of the steamers. Arthur, don't you +think your house would be safer than ours for that +work? Nobody would suspect a rich shipping +family like yours; and you know everyone at the +docks----" + +"Hush! not so loud, dear! So it was in your +house the books from Marseilles were hidden?" + +"Only for one day. Oh! perhaps I oughtn't to +have told you." + +"Why not? You know I belong to the society. +Gemma, dear, there is nothing in all the world that +would make me so happy as for you to join us-- +you and the Padre." + +"Your Padre! Surely he----" + +"No; he thinks differently. But I have sometimes +fancied--that is--hoped--I don't know----" + +"But, Arthur! he's a priest." + +"What of that? There are priests in the society +--two of them write in the paper. And why +not? It is the mission of the priesthood to lead +the world to higher ideals and aims, and what else +does the society try to do? It is, after all, more +a religious and moral question than a political one. +If people are fit to be free and responsible citizens, +no one can keep them enslaved." + +Gemma knit her brows. "It seems to me, +Arthur," she said, "that there's a muddle somewhere +in your logic. A priest teaches religious +doctrine. I don't see what that has to do with +getting rid of the Austrians." + +"A priest is a teacher of Christianity, and the +greatest of all revolutionists was Christ." + +"Do you know, I was talking about priests to +father the other day, and he said----" + +"Gemma, your father is a Protestant." + +After a little pause she looked round at him +frankly. + +"Look here, we had better leave this subject +alone. You are always intolerant when you talk +about Protestants." + +"I didn't mean to be intolerant. But I think +Protestants are generally intolerant when they +talk about priests." + +"I dare say. Anyhow, we have so often quarreled +over this subject that it is not worth while to +begin again. What did you think of the lecture?" + +"I liked it very much--especially the last part. +I was glad he spoke so strongly about the +need of living the Republic, not dreaming of it. +It is as Christ said: 'The Kingdom of Heaven is +within you.'" + +"It was just that part that I didn't like. He +talked so much of the wonderful things we ought +to think and feel and be, but he never told us practically +what we ought to do." + +"When the time of crisis comes there will be +plenty for us to do; but we must be patient; these +great changes are not made in a day." + +"The longer a thing is to take doing, the more +reason to begin at once. You talk about being +fit for freedom--did you ever know anyone so fit +for it as your mother? Wasn't she the most perfectly +angelic woman you ever saw? And what use +was all her goodness? She was a slave till the day +she died--bullied and worried and insulted by your +brother James and his wife. It would have been +much better for her if she had not been so sweet +and patient; they would never have treated her +so. That's just the way with Italy; it's not +patience that's wanted--it's for somebody to get +up and defend themselves------" + +"Jim, dear, if anger and passion could have +saved Italy she would have been free long ago; +it is not hatred that she needs, it is love." + +As he said the word a sudden flush went up +to his forehead and died out again. Gemma +did not see it; she was looking straight before +her with knitted brows and set mouth. + +"You think I am wrong, Arthur," she said +after a pause; "but I am right, and you will grow +to see it some day. This is the house. Will you +come in?" + +"No; it's late. Good-night, dear!" + +He was standing on the doorstep, clasping her +hand in both of his. + +"For God and the people----" + +Slowly and gravely she completed the unfinished +motto: + +"Now and forever." + +Then she pulled away her hand and ran into +the house. When the door had closed behind her +he stooped and picked up the spray of cypress +which had fallen from her breast. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +ARTHUR went back to his lodgings feeling as +though he had wings. He was absolutely, cloudlessly +happy. At the meeting there had been +hints of preparations for armed insurrection; and +now Gemma was a comrade, and he loved her. +They could work together, possibly even die together, +for the Republic that was to be. The +blossoming time of their hope was come, and the +Padre would see it and believe. + +The next morning, however, he awoke in a +soberer mood and remembered that Gemma was +going to Leghorn and the Padre to Rome. January, +February, March--three long months to +Easter! And if Gemma should fall under "Protestant" +influences at home (in Arthur's vocabulary +"Protestant" stood for "Philistine")------ +No, Gemma would never learn to flirt and simper +and captivate tourists and bald-headed shipowners, +like the other English girls in Leghorn; she was +made of different stuff. But she might be very +miserable; she was so young, so friendless, so +utterly alone among all those wooden people. If +only mother had lived---- + +In the evening he went to the seminary, where +he found Montanelli entertaining the new Director +and looking both tired and bored. Instead +of lighting up, as usual, at the sight of Arthur, the +Padre's face grew darker. + +"This is the student I spoke to you about," he +said, introducing Arthur stiffly. "I shall be much +obliged if you will allow him to continue using the +library." + +Father Cardi, a benevolent-looking elderly +priest, at once began talking to Arthur about the +Sapienza, with an ease and familiarity which +showed him to be well acquainted with college +life. The conversation soon drifted into a discussion +of university regulations, a burning question +of that day. To Arthur's great delight, the new +Director spoke strongly against the custom +adopted by the university authorities of constantly +worrying the students by senseless and vexatious +restrictions. + +"I have had a good deal of experience in guiding +young people," he said; "and I make it a +rule never to prohibit anything without a good +reason. There are very few young men who will +give much trouble if proper consideration and respect +for their personality are shown to them. +But, of course, the most docile horse will kick if +you are always jerking at the rein." + +Arthur opened his eyes wide; he had not expected +to hear the students' cause pleaded by the +new Director. Montanelli took no part in the discussion; +its subject, apparently, did not interest +him. The expression of his face was so unutterably +hopeless and weary that Father Cardi broke +off suddenly. + +"I am afraid I have overtired you, Canon. You +must forgive my talkativeness; I am hot upon this +subject and forget that others may grow weary +of it." + +"On the contrary, I was much interested." +Montanelli was not given to stereotyped politeness, +and his tone jarred uncomfortably upon +Arthur. + +When Father Cardi went to his own room +Montanelli turned to Arthur with the intent and +brooding look that his face had worn all the +evening. + +"Arthur, my dear boy," he began slowly; "I +have something to tell you." + +"He must have had bad news," flashed through +Arthur's mind, as he looked anxiously at the haggard +face. There was a long pause. + +"How do you like the new Director?" Montanelli +asked suddenly. + +The question was so unexpected that, for a moment, +Arthur was at a loss how to reply to it. + +"I--I like him very much, I think--at least-- +no, I am not quite sure that I do. But it is difficult +to say, after seeing a person once." + +Montanelli sat beating his hand gently on the +arm of his chair; a habit with him when anxious +or perplexed. + +"About this journey to Rome," he began again; +"if you think there is any--well--if you wish it, +Arthur, I will write and say I cannot go." + +"Padre! But the Vatican------" + +"The Vatican will find someone else. I can +send apologies." + +"But why? I can't understand." + +Montanelli drew one hand across his forehead. + +"I am anxious about you. Things keep coming +into my head--and after all, there is no need +for me to go------" + +"But the bishopric----" + +"Oh, Arthur! what shall it profit me if I gain a +bishopric and lose----" + +He broke off. Arthur had never seen him like +this before, and was greatly troubled. + +"I can't understand," he said. "Padre, if you +could explain to me more--more definitely, what +it is you think------" + +"I think nothing; I am haunted with a horrible +fear. Tell me, is there any special danger?" + +"He has heard something," Arthur thought, +remembering the whispers of a projected revolt. +But the secret was not his to tell; and he merely +answered: "What special danger should there be?" + +"Don't question me--answer me!" Montanelli's +voice was almost harsh in its eagerness. +"Are you in danger? I don't want to know your +secrets; only tell me that!" + +"We are all in God's hands, Padre; anything +may always happen. But I know of no reason +why I should not be here alive and safe when you +come back." + +"When I come back----Listen, carino; I will +leave it in your hands. You need give me no +reason; only say to me, 'Stay,' and I will give up +this journey. There will be no injury to anyone, +and I shall feel you are safer if I have you +beside me." + +This kind of morbid fancifulness was so foreign +to Montanelli's character that Arthur looked at +him with grave anxiety. + +"Padre, I am sure you are not well. Of course +you must go to Rome, and try to have a thorough +rest and get rid of your sleeplessness and headaches." + +"Very well," Montanelli interrupted, as if tired +of the subject; "I will start by the early coach +to-morrow morning." + +Arthur looked at him, wondering. + +"You had something to tell me?" he said. + +"No, no; nothing more--nothing of any consequence." +There was a startled, almost terrified +look in his face. + +A few days after Montanelli's departure Arthur +went to fetch a book from the seminary library, +and met Father Cardi on the stairs. + +"Ah, Mr. Burton!" exclaimed the Director; +"the very person I wanted. Please come in and +help me out of a difficulty." + +He opened the study door, and Arthur followed +him into the room with a foolish, secret sense of +resentment. It seemed hard to see this dear +study, the Padre's own private sanctum, invaded +by a stranger. + +"I am a terrible book-worm," said the Director; +"and my first act when I got here was to examine +the library. It seems very interesting, but I do +not understand the system by which it is catalogued." + +"The catalogue is imperfect; many of the +best books have been added to the collection +lately." + +"Can you spare half an hour to explain the arrangement +to me?" + +They went into the library, and Arthur carefully +explained the catalogue. When he rose to +take his hat, the Director interfered, laughing. + +"No, no! I can't have you rushing off in that +way. It is Saturday, and quite time for you to +leave off work till Monday morning. Stop and +have supper with me, now I have kept you so +late. I am quite alone, and shall be glad of +company." + +His manner was so bright and pleasant that Arthur +felt at ease with him at once. After some +desultory conversation, the Director inquired how +long he had known Montanelli. + +"For about seven years. He came back from +China when I was twelve years old." + +"Ah, yes! It was there that he gained his reputation +as a missionary preacher. Have you been +his pupil ever since?" + +"He began teaching me a year later, about the +time when I first confessed to him. Since I have +been at the Sapienza he has still gone on helping +me with anything I wanted to study that was not +in the regular course. He has been very kind to +me--you can hardly imagine how kind." + +"I can well believe it; he is a man whom no one +can fail to admire--a most noble and beautiful +nature. I have met priests who were out in China +with him; and they had no words high enough to +praise his energy and courage under all hardships, +and his unfailing devotion. You are fortunate to +have had in your youth the help and guidance of +such a man. I understood from him that you have +lost both parents." + +"Yes; my father died when I was a child, and +my mother a year ago." + +"Have you brothers and sisters?" + +"No; I have step-brothers; but they were business +men when I was in the nursery." + +"You must have had a lonely childhood; perhaps +you value Canon Montanelli's kindness the +more for that. By the way, have you chosen a +confessor for the time of his absence?" + +"I thought of going to one of the fathers of +Santa Caterina, if they have not too many +penitents." + +"Will you confess to me?" + +Arthur opened his eyes in wonder. + +"Reverend Father, of course I--should be glad; +only----" + +"Only the Director of a theological seminary +does not usually receive lay penitents? That is +quite true. But I know Canon Montanelli takes +a great interest in you, and I fancy he is a little +anxious on your behalf--just as I should be if I +were leaving a favourite pupil--and would like to +know you were under the spiritual guidance of his +colleague. And, to be quite frank with you, my +son, I like you, and should be glad to give you +any help I can." + +"If you put it that way, of course I shall be +very grateful for your guidance." + +"Then you will come to me next month? +That's right. And run in to see me, my lad, when +you have time any evening." + + . . . . . + +Shortly before Easter Montanelli's appointment +to the little see of Brisighella, in the Etruscan +Apennines, was officially announced. He +wrote to Arthur from Rome in a cheerful and +tranquil spirit; evidently his depression was passing +over. "You must come to see me every vacation," +he wrote; "and I shall often be coming to +Pisa; so I hope to see a good deal of you, if not +so much as I should wish." + +Dr. Warren had invited Arthur to spend the +Easter holidays with him and his children, instead +of in the dreary, rat-ridden old place where Julia +now reigned supreme. Enclosed in the letter was +a short note, scrawled in Gemma's childish, irregular +handwriting, begging him to come if possible, +"as I want to talk to you about something." +Still more encouraging was the whispered communication +passing around from student to student in the university; +everyone was to be prepared for great things after Easter. + +All this had put Arthur into a state of rapturous +anticipation, in which the wildest improbabilities +hinted at among the students seemed to +him natural and likely to be realized within the +next two months. + +He arranged to go home on Thursday in Passion +week, and to spend the first days of the +vacation there, that the pleasure of visiting the +Warrens and the delight of seeing Gemma might +not unfit him for the solemn religious meditation +demanded by the Church from all her children at +this season. He wrote to Gemma, promising to +come on Easter Monday; and went up to his bedroom +on Wednesday night with a soul at peace. + +He knelt down before the crucifix. Father +Cardi had promised to receive him in the morning; +and for this, his last confession before the +Easter communion, he must prepare himself by +long and earnest prayer. Kneeling with clasped +hands and bent head, he looked back over the +month, and reckoned up the miniature sins of +impatience, carelessness, hastiness of temper, +which had left their faint, small spots upon the +whiteness of his soul. Beyond these he could find +nothing; in this month he had been too happy +to sin much. He crossed himself, and, rising, began +to undress. + +As he unfastened his shirt a scrap of paper +slipped from it and fluttered to the floor. It was +Gemma's letter, which he had worn all day upon +his neck. He picked it up, unfolded it, and kissed +the dear scribble; then began folding the paper +up again, with a dim consciousness of having done +something very ridiculous, when he noticed on +the back of the sheet a postscript which he had +not read before. "Be sure and come as soon as +possible," it ran, "for I want you to meet Bolla. +He has been staying here, and we have read together +every day." + +The hot colour went up to Arthur's forehead as +he read. + +Always Bolla! What was he doing in Leghorn +again? And why should Gemma want to read +with him? Had he bewitched her with his smuggling? +It had been quite easy to see at the meeting +in January that he was in love with her; that +was why he had been so earnest over his propaganda. +And now he was close to her--reading +with her every day. + +Arthur suddenly threw the letter aside and knelt +down again before the crucifix. And this was the +soul that was preparing for absolution, for the +Easter sacrament--the soul at peace with God and +itself and all the world! A soul capable of sordid +jealousies and suspicions; of selfish animosities and +ungenerous hatred--and against a comrade! He covered +his face with both hands in bitter humiliation. Only +five minutes ago he had been dreaming of martyrdom; and +now he had been guilty of a mean and petty thought like this! + +When he entered the seminary chapel on Thursday +morning he found Father Cardi alone. After +repeating the Confiteor, he plunged at once into +the subject of his last night's backsliding. + +"My father, I accuse myself of the sins of jealousy +and anger, and of unworthy thoughts against +one who has done me no wrong." + +Farther Cardi knew quite well with what kind of +penitent he had to deal. He only said softly: + +"You have not told me all, my son." + +"Father, the man against whom I have thought +an unchristian thought is one whom I am +especially bound to love and honour." + +"One to whom you are bound by ties of +blood?" + +"By a still closer tie." + +"By what tie, my son?" + +"By that of comradeship." + +"Comradeship in what?" + +"In a great and holy work." + +A little pause. + +"And your anger against this--comrade, your +jealousy of him, was called forth by his success in +that work being greater than yours?" + +"I--yes, partly. I envied him his experience-- +his usefulness. And then--I thought--I feared-- +that he would take from me the heart of the girl +I--love." + +"And this girl that you love, is she a daughter +of the Holy Church?" + +"No; she is a Protestant." + +"A heretic?" + +Arthur clasped his hands in great distress. +"Yes, a heretic," he repeated. "We were brought +up together; our mothers were friends--and I +--envied him, because I saw that he loves her, +too, and because--because----" + +"My son," said Father Cardi, speaking after a +moment's silence, slowly and gravely, "you have +still not told me all; there is more than this upon +your soul." + +"Father, I----" He faltered and broke off +again. + +The priest waited silently. + +"I envied him because the society--the Young +Italy--that I belong to------" + +"Yes?" + +"Intrusted him with a work that I had hoped +--would be given to me, that I had thought myself +--specially adapted for." + +"What work?" + +"The taking in of books--political books--from +the steamers that bring them--and finding a hiding +place for them--in the town------" + +"And this work was given by the party to your +rival?" + +"To Bolla--and I envied him." + +"And he gave you no cause for this feeling? +You do not accuse him of having neglected the +mission intrusted to him?" + +"No, father; he has worked bravely and devotedly; +he is a true patriot and has deserved nothing +but love and respect from me." + +Father Cardi pondered. + +"My son, if there is within you a new light, a +dream of some great work to be accomplished for +your fellow-men, a hope that shall lighten the burdens +of the weary and oppressed, take heed how +you deal with the most precious blessing of God. +All good things are of His giving; and of His giving +is the new birth. If you have found the way +of sacrifice, the way that leads to peace; if you have +joined with loving comrades to bring deliverance +to them that weep and mourn in secret; then see +to it that your soul be free from envy and passion +and your heart as an altar where the sacred fire +burns eternally. Remember that this is a high and +holy thing, and that the heart which would receive +it must be purified from every selfish thought. +This vocation is as the vocation of a priest; it is +not for the love of a woman, nor for the moment +of a fleeting passion; it is FOR GOD AND THE PEOPLE; +it is NOW AND FOREVER." + +"Ah!" Arthur started and clasped his hands; +he had almost burst out sobbing at the motto. +"Father, you give us the sanction of the Church! +Christ is on our side----" + +"My son," the priest answered solemnly, +"Christ drove the moneychangers out of the +Temple, for His House shall be called a House +of Prayer, and they had made it a den of thieves." + +After a long silence, Arthur whispered tremulously: + +"And Italy shall be His Temple when they are +driven out----" + +He stopped; and the soft answer came back: + +"'The earth and the fulness thereof are mine, +saith the Lord.'" + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THAT afternoon Arthur felt the need of a long +walk. He intrusted his luggage to a fellow-student +and went to Leghorn on foot. + +The day was damp and cloudy, but not cold; and +the low, level country seemed to him fairer than he +had ever known it to look before. He had a sense +of delight in the soft elasticity of the wet grass +under his feet and in the shy, wondering eyes of +the wild spring flowers by the roadside. In a +thorn-acacia bush at the edge of a little strip of +wood a bird was building a nest, and flew up as he +passed with a startled cry and a quick fluttering of +brown wings. + +He tried to keep his mind fixed upon the devout +meditations proper to the eve of Good Friday. +But thoughts of Montanelli and Gemma got so +much in the way of this devotional exercise that at +last he gave up the attempt and allowed his fancy +to drift away to the wonders and glories of the +coming insurrection, and to the part in it that he +had allotted to his two idols. The Padre was to +be the leader, the apostle, the prophet before +whose sacred wrath the powers of darkness were +to flee, and at whose feet the young defenders of +Liberty were to learn afresh the old doctrines, +the old truths in their new and unimagined +significance. + +And Gemma? Oh, Gemma would fight at +the barricades. She was made of the clay from +which heroines are moulded; she would be the +perfect comrade, the maiden undefiled and unafraid, +of whom so many poets have dreamed. She +would stand beside him, shoulder to shoulder, +rejoicing under the winged death-storm; and they +would die together, perhaps in the moment of +victory--without doubt there would be a victory. +Of his love he would tell her nothing; he would say +no word that might disturb her peace or spoil her +tranquil sense of comradeship. She was to him a +holy thing, a spotless victim to be laid upon the +altar as a burnt-offering for the deliverance of the +people; and who was he that he should enter into +the white sanctuary of a soul that knew no other +love than God and Italy? + +God and Italy----Then came a sudden drop +from the clouds as he entered the great, dreary +house in the "Street of Palaces," and Julia's butler, +immaculate, calm, and politely disapproving as +ever, confronted him upon the stairs. + +"Good-evening, Gibbons; are my brothers in?" + +"Mr. Thomas is in, sir; and Mrs. Burton. They +are in the drawing room." + +Arthur went in with a dull sense of oppression. +What a dismal house it was! The flood of life +seemed to roll past and leave it always just above +high-water mark. Nothing in it ever changed-- +neither the people, nor the family portraits, nor the +heavy furniture and ugly plate, nor the vulgar +ostentation of riches, nor the lifeless aspect of +everything. Even the flowers on the brass stands +looked like painted metal flowers that had never +known the stirring of young sap within them in +the warm spring days. Julia, dressed for dinner, +and waiting for visitors in the drawing room which +was to her the centre of existence, might have sat +for a fashion-plate just as she was, with her wooden +smile and flaxen ringlets, and the lap-dog on her +knee. + +"How do you do, Arthur?" she said stiffly, giving +him the tips of her fingers for a moment, and +then transferring them to the more congenial contact +of the lap-dog's silken coat. "I hope you +are quite well and have made satisfactory progress +at college." + +Arthur murmured the first commonplace that +he could think of at the moment, and relapsed into +uncomfortable silence. The arrival of James, in his +most pompous mood and accompanied by a stiff, +elderly shipping-agent, did not improve matters; +and when Gibbons announced that dinner was +served, Arthur rose with a little sigh of relief. + +"I won't come to dinner, Julia. If you'll excuse +me I will go to my room." + +"You're overdoing that fasting, my boy," said +Thomas; "I am sure you'll make yourself ill." + +"Oh, no! Good-night." + +In the corridor Arthur met the under housemaid +and asked her to knock at his door at six in +the morning. + +"The signorino is going to church?" + +"Yes. Good-night, Teresa." + +He went into his room. It had belonged to his +mother, and the alcove opposite the window had +been fitted up during her long illness as an oratory. +A great crucifix on a black pedestal occupied the +middle of the altar; and before it hung a little +Roman lamp. This was the room where she had +died. Her portrait was on the wall beside the +bed; and on the table stood a china bowl which +had been hers, filled with a great bunch of her +favourite violets. It was just a year since her +death; and the Italian servants had not forgotten +her. + +He took out of his portmanteau a framed picture, +carefully wrapped up. It was a crayon portrait +of Montanelli, which had come from Rome +only a few days before. He was unwrapping this +precious treasure when Julia's page brought in a +supper-tray on which the old Italian cook, who had +served Gladys before the harsh, new mistress came, +had placed such little delicacies as she considered +her dear signorino might permit himself to eat +without infringing the rules of the Church. +Arthur refused everything but a piece of bread; +and the page, a nephew of Gibbons, lately arrived +from England, grinned significantly as he carried +out the tray. He had already joined the Protestant +camp in the servants' hall. + +Arthur went into the alcove and knelt down +before the crucifix, trying to compose his mind to +the proper attitude for prayer and meditation. +But this he found difficult to accomplish. He had, +as Thomas said, rather overdone the Lenten privations, +and they had gone to his head like strong +wine. Little quivers of excitement went down his +back, and the crucifix swam in a misty cloud before +his eyes. It was only after a long litany, mechanically +repeated, that he succeeded in recalling his +wandering imagination to the mystery of the +Atonement. At last sheer physical weariness +conquered the feverish agitation of his nerves, and +he lay down to sleep in a calm and peaceful mood, +free from all unquiet or disturbing thoughts. + +He was fast asleep when a sharp, impatient +knock came at his door. "Ah, Teresa!" he +thought, turning over lazily. The knock was +repeated, and he awoke with a violent start. + +"Signorino! signorino!" cried a man's voice in +Italian; "get up for the love of God!" + +Arthur jumped out of bed. + +"What is the matter? Who is it?" + +"It's I, Gian Battista. Get up, quick, for Our +Lady's sake!" + +Arthur hurriedly dressed and opened the door. +As he stared in perplexity at the coachman's pale, +terrified face, the sound of tramping feet and +clanking metal came along the corridor, and he +suddenly realized the truth. + +"For me?" he asked coolly. + +"For you! Oh, signorino, make haste! What +have you to hide? See, I can put----" + +"I have nothing to hide. Do my brothers +know?" + +The first uniform appeared at the turn of the +passage. + +"The signor has been called; all the house is +awake. Alas! what a misfortune--what a terrible +misfortune! And on Good Friday! Holy Saints, +have pity!" + +Gian Battista burst into tears. Arthur moved +a few steps forward and waited for the gendarmes, +who came clattering along, followed by a shivering +crowd of servants in various impromptu costumes. +As the soldiers surrounded Arthur, the +master and mistress of the house brought up the +rear of this strange procession; he in dressing +gown and slippers, she in a long peignoir, with her +hair in curlpapers. + +"There is, sure, another flood toward, and these +couples are coming to the ark! Here comes a +pair of very strange beasts!" + +The quotation flashed across Arthur's mind as +he looked at the grotesque figures. He checked +a laugh with a sense of its jarring incongruity--this +was a time for worthier thoughts. "Ave Maria, +Regina Coeli!" he whispered, and turned his eyes +away, that the bobbing of Julia's curlpapers might +not again tempt him to levity. + +"Kindly explain to me," said Mr. Burton, approaching +the officer of gendarmerie, "what is the +meaning of this violent intrusion into a private +house? I warn you that, unless you are prepared +to furnish me with a satisfactory explanation, I +shall feel bound to complain to the English +Ambassador." + +"I presume," replied the officer stiffly, "that +you will recognize this as a sufficient explanation; +the English Ambassador certainly will." He +pulled out a warrant for the arrest of Arthur +Burton, student of philosophy, and, handing it to +James, added coldly: "If you wish for any further +explanation, you had better apply in person to the +chief of police." + +Julia snatched the paper from her husband, +glanced over it, and flew at Arthur like nothing +else in the world but a fashionable lady in a +rage. + +"So it's you that have disgraced the family!" +she screamed; "setting all the rabble in the town +gaping and staring as if the thing were a show? +So you have turned jail-bird, now, with all your +piety! It's what we might have expected from +that Popish woman's child----" + +"You must not speak to a prisoner in a foreign +language, madam," the officer interrupted; but +his remonstrance was hardly audible under the torrent +of Julia's vociferous English. + +"Just what we might have expected! Fasting +and prayer and saintly meditation; and this is what +was underneath it all! I thought that would be +the end of it." + +Dr. Warren had once compared Julia to a salad +into which the cook had upset the vinegar cruet. +The sound of her thin, hard voice set Arthur's +teeth on edge, and the simile suddenly popped up +in his memory. + +"There's no use in this kind of talk," he said. +"You need not be afraid of any unpleasantness; +everyone will understand that you are all quite +innocent. I suppose, gentlemen, you want to +search my things. I have nothing to hide." + +While the gendarmes ransacked the room, reading +his letters, examining his college papers, and +turning out drawers and boxes, he sat waiting on +the edge of the bed, a little flushed with excitement, +but in no way distressed. The search did +not disquiet him. He had always burned letters +which could possibly compromise anyone, and beyond +a few manuscript verses, half revolutionary, +half mystical, and two or three numbers of Young +Italy, the gendarmes found nothing to repay them +for their trouble. Julia, after a long resistance, +yielded to the entreaties of her brother-in-law and +went back to bed, sweeping past Arthur with +magnificent disdain, James meekly following. + +When they had left the room, Thomas, who all +this while had been tramping up and down, trying +to look indifferent, approached the officer and +asked permission to speak to the prisoner. +Receiving a nod in answer, he went up to Arthur +and muttered in a rather husky voice: + +"I say; this is an infernally awkward business. +I'm very sorry about it." + +Arthur looked up with a face as serene as a summer +morning. "You have always been good to +me," he said. "There's nothing to be sorry +about. I shall be safe enough." + +"Look here, Arthur!" Thomas gave his moustache +a hard pull and plunged head first into the +awkward question. "Is--all this anything to do +with--money? Because, if it is, I----" + +"With money! Why, no! What could it have +to do----" + +"Then it's some political tomfoolery? I +thought so. Well, don't you get down in the +mouth--and never mind all the stuff Julia talks. +It's only her spiteful tongue; and if you want +help,--cash, or anything,--let me know, will +you?" + +Arthur held out his hand in silence, and Thomas +left the room with a carefully made-up expression +of unconcern that rendered his face more stolid +than ever. + +The gendarmes, meanwhile, had finished their +search, and the officer in charge requested Arthur +to put on his outdoor clothes. He obeyed at once +and turned to leave the room; then stopped with +sudden hesitation. It seemed hard to take leave +of his mother's oratory in the presence of these +officials. + +"Have you any objection to leaving the room +for a moment?" he asked. "You see that I cannot +escape and that there is nothing to conceal." + +"I am sorry, but it is forbidden to leave a +prisoner alone." + +"Very well, it doesn't matter." + +He went into the alcove, and, kneeling down, +kissed the feet and pedestal of the crucifix, whispering +softly: "Lord, keep me faithful unto death." + +When he rose, the officer was standing by the +table, examining Montanelli's portrait. "Is this +a relative of yours?" he asked. + +"No; it is my confessor, the new Bishop of +Brisighella." + +On the staircase the Italian servants were waiting, +anxious and sorrowful. They all loved Arthur +for his own sake and his mother's, and crowded +round him, kissing his hands and dress with +passionate grief. Gian Battista stood by, the +tears dripping down his gray moustache. None +of the Burtons came out to take leave of him. +Their coldness accentuated the tenderness and +sympathy of the servants, and Arthur was near to +breaking down as he pressed the hands held out +to him. + +"Good-bye, Gian Battista. Kiss the little ones +for me. Good-bye, Teresa. Pray for me, all of +you; and God keep you! Good-bye, good-bye!" + +He ran hastily downstairs to the front door. A +moment later only a little group of silent men and +sobbing women stood on the doorstep watching +the carriage as it drove away. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +ARTHUR was taken to the huge mediaeval fortress +at the harbour's mouth. He found prison life +fairly endurable. His cell was unpleasantly damp +and dark; but he had been brought up in a palace +in the Via Borra, and neither close air, rats, nor +foul smells were novelties to him. The food, also, +was both bad and insufficient; but James soon obtained +permission to send him all the necessaries of +life from home. He was kept in solitary confinement, +and, though the vigilance of the warders +was less strict than he had expected, he failed to +obtain any explanation of the cause of his arrest. +Nevertheless, the tranquil frame of mind in which +he had entered the fortress did not change. Not +being allowed books, he spent his time in prayer +and devout meditation, and waited without impatience +or anxiety for the further course of events. + +One day a soldier unlocked the door of his cell +and called to him: "This way, please!" After two +or three questions, to which he got no answer but, +"Talking is forbidden," Arthur resigned himself +to the inevitable and followed the soldier through +a labyrinth of courtyards, corridors, and stairs, all +more or less musty-smelling, into a large, light +room in which three persons in military uniform +sat at a long table covered with green baize and littered +with papers, chatting in a languid, desultory +way. They put on a stiff, business air as he came +in, and the oldest of them, a foppish-looking man +with gray whiskers and a colonel's uniform, +pointed to a chair on the other side of the table +and began the preliminary interrogation. + +Arthur had expected to be threatened, abused, +and sworn at, and had prepared himself to +answer with dignity and patience; but he was pleasantly +disappointed. The colonel was stiff, cold +and formal, but perfectly courteous. The usual +questions as to his name, age, nationality, and +social position were put and answered, and the +replies written down in monotonous succession. +He was beginning to feel bored and impatient, +when the colonel asked: + +"And now, Mr. Burton, what do you know +about Young Italy?" + +"I know that it is a society which publishes a +newspaper in Marseilles and circulates it in Italy, +with the object of inducing people to revolt and +drive the Austrian army out of the country." + +"You have read this paper, I think?" + +"Yes; I am interested in the subject." + +"When you read it you realized that you were +committing an illegal action?" + +"Certainly." + +"Where did you get the copies which were +found in your room?" + +"That I cannot tell you." + +"Mr. Burton, you must not say 'I cannot tell' +here; you are bound to answer my questions." + +"I will not, then, if you object to 'cannot.'" + +"You will regret it if you permit yourself to +use such expressions," remarked the colonel. As +Arthur made no reply, he went on: + +"I may as well tell you that evidence has come +into our hands proving your connection with this +society to be much more intimate than is implied +by the mere reading of forbidden literature. It +will be to your advantage to confess frankly. In +any case the truth will be sure to come out, and +you will find it useless to screen yourself behind +evasion and denials." + +"I have no desire to screen myself. What is it +you want to know?" + +"Firstly, how did you, a foreigner, come to be +implicated in matters of this kind?" + +"I thought about the subject and read everything +I could get hold of, and formed my own +conclusions." + +"Who persuaded you to join this society?" + +"No one; I wished to join it." + +"You are shilly-shallying with me," said the +colonel, sharply; his patience was evidently beginning +to give out. "No one can join a society by +himself. To whom did you communicate your wish +to join it?" + +Silence. + +"Will you have the kindness to answer me?" + +"Not when you ask questions of that kind." + +Arthur spoke sullenly; a curious, nervous irritability +was taking possession of him. He knew by +this time that many arrests had been made in both +Leghorn and Pisa; and, though still ignorant of +the extent of the calamity, he had already heard +enough to put him into a fever of anxiety for the +safety of Gemma and his other friends. The +studied politeness of the officers, the dull game of +fencing and parrying, of insidious questions and +evasive answers, worried and annoyed him, and the +clumsy tramping backward and forward of the +sentinel outside the door jarred detestably upon +his ear. + +"Oh, by the bye, when did you last meet Giovanni +Bolla?" asked the colonel, after a little more +bandying of words. "Just before you left Pisa, +was it?" + +"I know no one of that name." + +"What! Giovanni Bolla? Surely you know him +--a tall young fellow, closely shaven. Why, he +is one of your fellow-students." + +"There are many students in the university +whom I don't know." + +"Oh, but you must know Bolla, surely! Look, +this is his handwriting. You see, he knows you +well enough." + +The colonel carelessly handed him a paper +headed: "Protocol," and signed: "Giovanni +Bolla." Glancing down it Arthur came upon his +own name. He looked up in surprise. "Am I to +read it?" + +"Yes, you may as well; it concerns you." + +He began to read, while the officers sat silently +watching his face. The document appeared to +consist of depositions in answer to a long string of +questions. Evidently Bolla, too, must have been +arrested. The first depositions were of the usual +stereotyped character; then followed a short account +of Bolla's connection with the society, of the +dissemination of prohibited literature in Leghorn, +and of the students' meetings. Next came +"Among those who joined us was a young Englishman, +Arthur Burton, who belongs to one of +the rich shipowning families." + +The blood rushed into Arthur's face. Bolla had +betrayed him! Bolla, who had taken upon himself +the solemn duties of an initiator--Bolla, who had +converted Gemma--who was in love with her! +He laid down the paper and stared at the floor. + +"I hope that little document has refreshed +your memory?" hinted the colonel politely. + +Arthur shook his head. "I know no one of that +name," he repeated in a dull, hard voice. "There +must be some mistake." + +"Mistake? Oh, nonsense! Come, Mr. Burton, +chivalry and quixotism are very fine things in +their way; but there's no use in overdoing them. +It's an error all you young people fall into at first. +Come, think! What good is it for you to compromise +yourself and spoil your prospects in life over +a simple formality about a man that has betrayed +you? You see yourself, he wasn't so particular +as to what he said about you." + +A faint shade of something like mockery had +crept into the colonel's voice. Arthur looked +up with a start; a sudden light flashed upon his +mind. + +"It's a lie!" he cried out. "It's a forgery! I +can see it in your face, you cowardly----You've +got some prisoner there you want to compromise, +or a trap you want to drag me into. You are a forger, +and a liar, and a scoundrel----" + +"Silence!" shouted the colonel, starting up in a +rage; his two colleagues were already on their +feet. "Captain Tommasi," he went on, turning to +one of them, "ring for the guard, if you please, +and have this young gentleman put in the punishment +cell for a few days. He wants a lesson, I see, +to bring him to reason." + +The punishment cell was a dark, damp, filthy +hole under ground. Instead of bringing Arthur +"to reason," it thoroughly exasperated him. His +luxurious home had rendered him daintily fastidious +about personal cleanliness, and the first effect +of the slimy, vermin-covered walls, the floor +heaped with accumulations of filth and garbage, +the fearful stench of fungi and sewage and rotting +wood, was strong enough to have satisfied the +offended officer. When he was pushed in and the +door locked behind him he took three cautious +steps forward with outstretched hands, shuddering +with disgust as his fingers came into contact with +the slippery wall, and groped in the dense blackness +for some spot less filthy than the rest in which +to sit down. + +The long day passed in unbroken blackness and +silence, and the night brought no change. In the +utter void and absence of all external impressions, +he gradually lost the consciousness of time; and +when, on the following morning, a key was turned +in the door lock, and the frightened rats scurried +past him squeaking, he started up in a sudden +panic, his heart throbbing furiously and a roaring +noise in his ears, as though he had been shut +away from light and sound for months instead of +hours. + +The door opened, letting in a feeble lantern +gleam--a flood of blinding light, it seemed to him +--and the head warder entered, carrying a piece of +bread and a mug of water. Arthur made a step +forward; he was quite convinced that the man +had come to let him out. Before he had time to +speak, the warder put the bread and mug into his +hands, turned round and went away without a +word, locking the door again. + +Arthur stamped his foot upon the ground. For +the first time in his life he was savagely angry. +But as the hours went by, the consciousness of time +and place gradually slipped further and further +away. The blackness seemed an illimitable thing, +with no beginning and no end, and life had, as it +were, stopped for him. On the evening of the +third day, when the door was opened and the head +warder appeared on the threshold with a soldier, +he looked up, dazed and bewildered, shading his +eyes from the unaccustomed light, and vaguely +wondering how many hours or weeks he had been +in this grave. + +"This way, please," said the cool business voice +of the warder. Arthur rose and moved forward +mechanically, with a strange unsteadiness, swaying +and stumbling like a drunkard. He resented the +warder's attempt to help him up the steep, narrow +steps leading to the courtyard; but as he reached +the highest step a sudden giddiness came over him, +so that he staggered and would have fallen backwards +had the warder not caught him by the shoulder. + + . . . . . + +"There, he'll be all right now," said a cheerful +voice; "they most of them go off this way coming +out into the air." + +Arthur struggled desperately for breath as another +handful of water was dashed into his face. +The blackness seemed to fall away from him in +pieces with a rushing noise; then he woke suddenly +into full consciousness, and, pushing aside +the warder's arm, walked along the corridor and +up the stairs almost steadily. They stopped for a +moment in front of a door; then it opened, and before +he realized where they were taking him +he was in the brightly lighted interrogation +room, staring in confused wonder at the table and +the papers and the officers sitting in their accustomed places. + +"Ah, it's Mr. Burton!" said the colonel. "I +hope we shall be able to talk more comfortably +now. Well, and how do you like the dark cell? +Not quite so luxurious as your brother's drawing +room, is it? eh?" + +Arthur raised his eyes to the colonel's smiling +face. He was seized by a frantic desire to spring +at the throat of this gray-whiskered fop and tear it +with his teeth. Probably something of this kind +was visible in his face, for the colonel added immediately, +in a quite different tone: + +"Sit down, Mr. Burton, and drink some water; +you are excited." + +Arthur pushed aside the glass of water held out +to him; and, leaning his arms on the table, rested +his forehead on one hand and tried to collect his +thoughts. The colonel sat watching him keenly, +noting with experienced eyes the unsteady hands +and lips, the hair dripping with water, the dim +gaze that told of physical prostration and disordered nerves. + +"Now, Mr. Burton," he said after a few minutes; +"we will start at the point where we left off; and +as there has been a certain amount of unpleasantness +between us, I may as well begin by saying that +I, for my part, have no desire to be anything but +indulgent with you. If you will behave properly +and reasonably, I assure you that we shall not +treat you with any unnecessary harshness." + +"What do you want me to do?" + +Arthur spoke in a hard, sullen voice, quite different +from his natural tone. + +"I only want you to tell us frankly, in a straightforward +and honourable manner, what you know +of this society and its adherents. First of all, how +long have you known Bolla?" + +"I never met him in my life. I know nothing +whatever about him." + +"Really? Well, we will return to that subject +presently. I think you know a young man named +Carlo Bini?" + +"I never heard of such a person." + +"That is very extraordinary. What about +Francesco Neri?" + +"I never heard the name." + +"But here is a letter in your handwriting, addressed +to him. Look!" + +Arthur glanced carelessly at the letter and laid it +aside. + +"Do you recognize that letter?" + +"No." + +"You deny that it is in your writing?" + +"I deny nothing. I have no recollection of it." + +"Perhaps you remember this one?" + +A second letter was handed to him, and he saw +that it was one which he had written in the autumn +to a fellow-student. + +"No." + +"Nor the person to whom it is addressed?" + +"Nor the person." + +"Your memory is singularly short." + +"It is a defect from which I have always +suffered." + +"Indeed! And I heard the other day from a +university professor that you are considered by no +means deficient; rather clever in fact." + +"You probably judge of cleverness by the police-spy +standard; university professors use words in a +different sense." + +The note of rising irritation was plainly audible +in Arthur's voice. He was physically exhausted +with hunger, foul air, and want of sleep; every bone +in his body seemed to ache separately; and the +colonel's voice grated on his exasperated nerves, +setting his teeth on edge like the squeak of a slate +pencil. + +"Mr. Burton," said the colonel, leaning back +in his chair and speaking gravely, "you are again +forgetting yourself; and I warn you once more +that this kind of talk will do you no good. Surely +you have had enough of the dark cell not to want +any more just for the present. I tell you plainly +that I shall use strong measures with you if you +persist in repulsing gentle ones. Mind, I have +proof--positive proof--that some of these young +men have been engaged in smuggling prohibited +literature into this port; and that you have been +in communication with them. Now, are you going +to tell me, without compulsion, what you know +about this affair?" + +Arthur bent his head lower. A blind, senseless, +wild-beast fury was beginning to stir within him +like a live thing. The possibility of losing command +over himself was more appalling to him than +any threats. For the first time he began to realize +what latent potentialities may lie hidden beneath +the culture of any gentleman and the piety of any +Christian; and the terror of himself was strong +upon him. + +"I am waiting for your answer," said the colonel. + +"I have no answer to give." + +"You positively refuse to answer?" + +"I will tell you nothing at all." + +"Then I must simply order you back into the +punishment cell, and keep you there till you change +your mind. If there is much more trouble with +you, I shall put you in irons." + +Arthur looked up, trembling from head to foot. +"You will do as you please," he said slowly; "and +whether the English Ambassador will stand your +playing tricks of that kind with a British subject +who has not been convicted of any crime is for him +to decide." + +At last Arthur was conducted back to his own +cell, where he flung himself down upon the bed +and slept till the next morning. He was not put +in irons, and saw no more of the dreaded dark cell; +but the feud between him and the colonel grew +more inveterate with every interrogation. It was +quite useless for Arthur to pray in his cell for grace +to conquer his evil passions, or to meditate half the +night long upon the patience and meekness of +Christ. No sooner was he brought again into the +long, bare room with its baize-covered table, and +confronted with the colonel's waxed moustache, +than the unchristian spirit would take possession of +him once more, suggesting bitter repartees and +contemptuous answers. Before he had been a +month in the prison the mutual irritation had +reached such a height that he and the colonel +could not see each other's faces without losing +their temper. + +The continual strain of this petty warfare was +beginning to tell heavily upon his nerves. Knowing +how closely he was watched, and remembering +certain dreadful rumours which he had heard of +prisoners secretly drugged with belladonna that +notes might be taken of their ravings, he gradually +became afraid to sleep or eat; and if a mouse ran +past him in the night, would start up drenched +with cold sweat and quivering with terror, fancying +that someone was hiding in the room to listen +if he talked in his sleep. The gendarmes were evidently +trying to entrap him into making some +admission which might compromise Bolla; and so +great was his fear of slipping, by any inadvertency, +into a pitfall, that he was really in danger of doing +so through sheer nervousness. Bolla's name rang +in his ears night and day, interfering even with his +devotions, and forcing its way in among the beads +of the rosary instead of the name of Mary. But +the worst thing of all was that his religion, like the +outer world, seemed to be slipping away from him +as the days went by. To this last foothold he clung +with feverish tenacity, spending several hours of +each day in prayer and meditation; but his +thoughts wandered more and more often to Bolla, +and the prayers were growing terribly mechanical. + +His greatest comfort was the head warder of the +prison. This was a little old man, fat and bald, +who at first had tried his hardest to wear a severe +expression. Gradually the good nature which +peeped out of every dimple in his chubby face conquered +his official scruples, and he began carrying +messages for the prisoners from cell to cell. + +One afternoon in the middle of May this +warder came into the cell with a face so scowling +and gloomy that Arthur looked at him in +astonishment. + +"Why, Enrico!" he exclaimed; "what on earth +is wrong with you to-day?" + +"Nothing," said Enrico snappishly; and, going +up to the pallet, he began pulling off the rug, +which was Arthur's property. + +"What do you want with my things? Am I to +be moved into another cell?" + +"No; you're to be let out." + +"Let out? What--to-day? For altogether? +Enrico!" + +In his excitement Arthur had caught hold of the +old man's arm. It was angrily wrenched away. + +"Enrico! What has come to you? Why don't +you answer? Are we all going to be let out?" + +A contemptuous grunt was the only reply. + +"Look here!" Arthur again took hold of the +warder's arm, laughing. "It is no use for you to +be cross to me, because I'm not going to get +offended. I want to know about the others." + +"Which others?" growled Enrico, suddenly +laying down the shirt he was folding. "Not Bolla, +I suppose?" + +"Bolla and all the rest, of course. Enrico, what +is the matter with you?" + +"Well, he's not likely to be let out in a hurry, +poor lad, when a comrade has betrayed him. +Ugh!" Enrico took up the shirt again in disgust. + +"Betrayed him? A comrade? Oh, how dreadful!" +Arthur's eyes dilated with horror. Enrico +turned quickly round. + +"Why, wasn't it you?" + +"I? Are you off your head, man? I?" + +"Well, they told him so yesterday at interrogation, +anyhow. I'm very glad if it wasn't you, for I +always thought you were rather a decent young +fellow. This way!" Enrico stepped out into the +corridor and Arthur followed him, a light breaking +in upon the confusion of his mind. + +"They told Bolla I'd betrayed him? Of course +they did! Why, man, they told me he had betrayed +me. Surely Bolla isn't fool enough to +believe that sort of stuff?" + +"Then it really isn't true?" Enrico stopped at +the foot of the stairs and looked searchingly at +Arthur, who merely shrugged his shoulders. + +"Of course it's a lie." + +"Well, I'm glad to hear it, my lad, and I'll tell +him you said so. But you see what they told him +was that you had denounced him out of--well, out +of jealousy, because of your both being sweet on +the same girl." + +"It's a lie!" Arthur repeated the words in a +quick, breathless whisper. A sudden, paralyzing +fear had come over him. "The same girl--jealousy!" +How could they know--how could they know? + +"Wait a minute, my lad." Enrico stopped in +the corridor leading to the interrogation room, +and spoke softly. "I believe you; but just tell me +one thing. I know you're a Catholic; did you +ever say anything in the confessional------" + +"It's a lie!" This time Arthur's voice had risen +to a stifled cry. + +Enrico shrugged his shoulders and moved on +again. "You know best, of course; but you +wouldn't be the only young fool that's been taken +in that way. There's a tremendous ado just now +about a priest in Pisa that some of your friends +have found out. They've printed a leaflet saying +he's a spy." + +He opened the door of the interrogation room, +and, seeing that Arthur stood motionless, staring +blankly before him, pushed him gently across the +threshold. + +"Good-afternoon, Mr. Burton," said the colonel, +smiling and showing his teeth amiably. "I have +great pleasure in congratulating you. An order +for your release has arrived from Florence. Will +you kindly sign this paper?" + +Arthur went up to him. "I want to know," he +said in a dull voice, "who it was that betrayed +me." + +The colonel raised his eyebrows with a smile. + +"Can't you guess? Think a minute." + +Arthur shook his head. The colonel put out +both hands with a gesture of polite surprise. + +"Can't guess? Really? Why, you yourself, +Mr. Burton. Who else could know your private +love affairs?" + +Arthur turned away in silence. On the wall +hung a large wooden crucifix; and his eyes wandered +slowly to its face; but with no appeal in +them, only a dim wonder at this supine and patient +God that had no thunderbolt for a priest who betrayed +the confessional. + +"Will you kindly sign this receipt for your +papers?" said the colonel blandly; "and then I +need not keep you any longer. I am sure you +must be in a hurry to get home; and my time is +very much taken up just now with the affairs of +that foolish young man, Bolla, who tried your +Christian forbearance so hard. I am afraid he +will get a rather heavy sentence. Good-afternoon!" + +Arthur signed the receipt, took his papers, and +went out in dead silence. He followed Enrico to +the massive gate; and, without a word of farewell, +descended to the water's edge, where a ferryman +was waiting to take him across the moat. As he +mounted the stone steps leading to the street, a +girl in a cotton dress and straw hat ran up to him +with outstretched hands. + +"Arthur! Oh, I'm so glad--I'm so glad!" + +He drew his hands away, shivering. + +"Jim!" he said at last, in a voice that did not +seem to belong to him. "Jim!" + +"I've been waiting here for half an hour. They +said you would come out at four. Arthur, why do +you look at me like that? Something has happened! +Arthur, what has come to you? Stop!" + +He had turned away, and was walking slowly +down the street, as if he had forgotten her presence. +Thoroughly frightened at his manner, she +ran after him and caught him by the arm. + +"Arthur!" + +He stopped and looked up with bewildered eyes. +She slipped her arm through his, and they walked +on again for a moment in silence. + +"Listen, dear," she began softly; "you mustn't +get so upset over this wretched business. I know +it's dreadfully hard on you, but everybody understands." + +"What business?" he asked in the same dull +voice. + +"I mean, about Bolla's letter." + +Arthur's face contracted painfully at the name. + +"I thought you wouldn't have heard of it," +Gemma went on; "but I suppose they've told +you. Bolla must be perfectly mad to have imagined +such a thing." + +"Such a thing----?" + +"You don't know about it, then? He has +written a horrible letter, saying that you have told +about the steamers, and got him arrested. It's +perfectly absurd, of course; everyone that knows +you sees that; it's only the people who don't know +you that have been upset by it. Really, that's what +I came here for--to tell you that no one in our +group believes a word of it." + +"Gemma! But it's--it's true!" + +She shrank slowly away from him, and stood +quite still, her eyes wide and dark with horror, her +face as white as the kerchief at her neck. A great +icy wave of silence seemed to have swept round +them both, shutting them out, in a world apart, +from the life and movement of the street. + +"Yes," he whispered at last; "the steamers-- +I spoke of that; and I said his name--oh, my God! +my God! What shall I do?" + +He came to himself suddenly, realizing her presence +and the mortal terror in her face. Yes, of +course, she must think------ + +"Gemma, you don't understand!" he burst out, +moving nearer; but she recoiled with a sharp cry: + +"Don't touch me!" + +Arthur seized her right hand with sudden +violence. + +"Listen, for God's sake! It was not my fault; +I----" + +"Let go; let my hand go! Let go!" + +The next instant she wrenched her fingers away +from his, and struck him across the cheek with her +open hand. + +A kind of mist came over his eyes. For a little +while he was conscious of nothing but Gemma's +white and desperate face, and the right hand which +she had fiercely rubbed on the skirt of her cotton +dress. Then the daylight crept back again, and he +looked round and saw that he was alone. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +IT had long been dark when Arthur rang at the +front door of the great house in the Via Borra. He +remembered that he had been wandering about +the streets; but where, or why, or for how long, he +had no idea. Julia's page opened the door, yawning, +and grinned significantly at the haggard, +stony face. It seemed to him a prodigious joke to +have the young master come home from jail like +a "drunk and disorderly" beggar. Arthur went +upstairs. On the first floor he met Gibbons coming +down with an air of lofty and solemn disapproval. +He tried to pass with a muttered "Good +evening"; but Gibbons was no easy person to get +past against his will. + +"The gentlemen are out, sir," he said, looking +critically at Arthur's rather neglected dress and +hair. "They have gone with the mistress to an +evening party, and will not be back till nearly +twelve." + +Arthur looked at his watch; it was nine o'clock. +Oh, yes! he would have time--plenty of time------ + +"My mistress desired me to ask whether you +would like any supper, sir; and to say that she +hopes you will sit up for her, as she particularly +wishes to speak to you this evening." + +"I don't want anything, thank you; you can +tell her I have not gone to bed." + +He went up to his room. Nothing in it had +been changed since his arrest; Montanelli's portrait +was on the table where he had placed it, and +the crucifix stood in the alcove as before. He +paused a moment on the threshold, listening; but +the house was quite still; evidently no one was +coming to disturb him. He stepped softly into the +room and locked the door. + +And so he had come to the end. There was +nothing to think or trouble about; an importunate +and useless consciousness to get rid of--and nothing +more. It seemed a stupid, aimless kind of +thing, somehow. + +He had not formed any resolve to commit suicide, +nor indeed had he thought much about it; +the thing was quite obvious and inevitable. He +had even no definite idea as to what manner of +death to choose; all that mattered was to be done +with it quickly--to have it over and forget. He +had no weapon in the room, not even a pocketknife; +but that was of no consequence--a towel +would do, or a sheet torn into strips. + +There was a large nail just over the window. +That would do; but it must be firm to bear his +weight. He got up on a chair to feel the nail; it +was not quite firm, and he stepped down again and +took a hammer from a drawer. He knocked in the +nail, and was about to pull a sheet off his bed, +when he suddenly remembered that he had not +said his prayers. Of course, one must pray before +dying; every Christian does that. There are even +special prayers for a departing soul. + +He went into the alcove and knelt down before +the crucifix. "Almighty and merciful God----" +he began aloud; and with that broke off and said +no more. Indeed, the world was grown so dull +that there was nothing left to pray for--or against. +And then, what did Christ know about a trouble +of this kind--Christ, who had never suffered it? +He had only been betrayed, like Bolla; He had +never been tricked into betraying. + +Arthur rose, crossing himself from old habit. +Approaching the table, he saw lying upon it a +letter addressed to him, in Montanelli's handwriting. +It was in pencil: + + +"My Dear Boy: It is a great disappointment +to me that I cannot see you on the day of your +release; but I have been sent for to visit a dying +man. I shall not get back till late at night. Come +to me early to-morrow morning. In great haste, + + "L. M." + + +He put down the letter with a sigh; it did seem +hard on the Padre. + +How the people had laughed and gossiped in the +streets! Nothing was altered since the days when +he had been alive. Not the least little one of all +the daily trifles round him was changed because a +human soul, a living human soul, had been struck +down dead. It was all just the same as before. +The water had plashed in the fountains; the sparrows +had twittered under the eaves; just as they +had done yesterday, just as they would do to-morrow. +And as for him, he was dead--quite dead. + +He sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed his +arms along the foot-rail, and rested his forehead +upon them. There was plenty of time; and his +head ached so--the very middle of the brain +seemed to ache; it was all so dull and stupid--so +utterly meaningless---- + + . . . . . + +The front-door bell rang sharply, and he started +up in a breathless agony of terror, with both hands +at his throat. They had come back--he had sat +there dreaming, and let the precious time slip +away--and now he must see their faces and hear +their cruel tongues--their sneers and comments-- +If only he had a knife------ + +He looked desperately round the room. His +mother's work-basket stood in a little cupboard; +surely there would be scissors; he might sever an +artery. No; the sheet and nail were safer, if he +had time. + +He dragged the counterpane from his bed, and +with frantic haste began tearing off a strip. The +sound of footsteps came up the stairs. No; the +strip was too wide; it would not tie firmly; and +there must be a noose. He worked faster as the +footsteps drew nearer; and the blood throbbed in +his temples and roared in his ears. Quicker-- +quicker! Oh, God! five minutes more! + +There was a knock at the door. The strip of +torn stuff dropped from his hands, and he sat quite +still, holding his breath to listen. The handle of +the door was tried; then Julia's voice called: + +"Arthur!" + +He stood up, panting. + +"Arthur, open the door, please; we are waiting." + +He gathered up the torn counterpane, threw it +into a drawer, and hastily smoothed down the +bed. + +"Arthur!" This time it was James who called, +and the door-handle was shaken impatiently. +"Are you asleep?" + +Arthur looked round the room, saw that everything +was hidden, and unlocked the door. + +"I should think you might at least have obeyed +my express request that you should sit up for us, +Arthur," said Julia, sweeping into the room in a +towering passion. "You appear to think it the +proper thing for us to dance attendance for half +an hour at your door----" + +"Four minutes, my dear," James mildly corrected, +stepping into the room at the end of his +wife's pink satin train. "I certainly think, Arthur, +that it would have been more--becoming if----" + +"What do you want?" Arthur interrupted. He +was standing with his hand upon the door, glancing +furtively from one to the other like a trapped +animal. But James was too obtuse and Julia too +angry to notice the look. + +Mr. Burton placed a chair for his wife and sat +down, carefully pulling up his new trousers at the +knees. "Julia and I," he began, "feel it to be our +duty to speak to you seriously about----" + +"I can't listen to-night; I--I'm not well. My +head aches--you must wait." + +Arthur spoke in a strange, indistinct voice, with +a confused and rambling manner. James looked +round in surprise. + +"Is there anything the matter with you?" he +asked anxiously, suddenly remembering that Arthur +had come from a very hotbed of infection. +"I hope you're not sickening for anything. You +look quite feverish." + +"Nonsense!" Julia interrupted sharply. "It's +only the usual theatricals, because he's ashamed to +face us. Come here and sit down, Arthur." +Arthur slowly crossed the room and sat down on +the bed. "Yes?" he said wearily. + +Mr. Burton coughed, cleared his throat, +smoothed his already immaculate beard, and began +the carefully prepared speech over again: + +"I feel it to be my duty--my painful duty--to +speak very seriously to you about your extraordinary +behaviour in connecting yourself with--a-- +law-breakers and incendiaries and--a--persons of +disreputable character. I believe you to have been, +perhaps, more foolish than depraved--a----" + +He paused. + +"Yes?" Arthur said again. + +"Now, I do not wish to be hard on you," James +went on, softening a little in spite of himself +before the weary hopelessness of Arthur's manner. +"I am quite willing to believe that you have been +led away by bad companions, and to take into +account your youth and inexperience and the--a-- +a--imprudent and--a--impulsive character which +you have, I fear, inherited from your mother." + +Arthur's eyes wandered slowly to his mother's +portrait and back again, but he did not speak. + +"But you will, I feel sure, understand," James +continued, "that it is quite impossible for me to +keep any longer in my house a person who has +brought public disgrace upon a name so highly +respected as ours." + +"Yes?" Arthur repeated once more. + +"Well?" said Julia sharply, closing her fan with +a snap and laying it across her knee. "Are you +going to have the goodness to say anything but +'Yes,' Arthur?" + +"You will do as you think best, of course," he +answered slowly, without moving. "It doesn't +matter much either way." + +"Doesn't--matter?" James repeated, aghast; +and his wife rose with a laugh. + +"Oh, it doesn't matter, doesn't it? Well, James, +I hope you understand now how much gratitude +you may expect in that quarter. I told you what +would come of showing charity to Papist adventuresses +and their----" + +"Hush, hush! Never mind that, my dear!" + +"It's all nonsense, James; we've had more than +enough of this sentimentality! A love-child setting +himself up as a member of the family--it's +quite time he did know what his mother was! +Why should we be saddled with the child of +a Popish priest's amourettes? There, then-- +look!" + +She pulled a crumpled sheet of paper out of her +pocket and tossed it across the table to Arthur. +He opened it; the writing was in his mother's +hand, and was dated four months before his birth. +It was a confession, addressed to her husband, and +with two signatures. + +Arthur's eyes travelled slowly down the page, +past the unsteady letters in which her name was +written, to the strong, familiar signature: "Lorenzo +Montanelli." For a moment he stared at +the writing; then, without a word, refolded the +paper and laid it down. James rose and took his +wife by the arm. + +"There, Julia, that will do. Just go downstairs +now; it's late, and I want to talk a little business +with Arthur. It won't interest you." + +She glanced up at her husband; then back at +Arthur, who was silently staring at the floor. + +"He seems half stupid," she whispered. + +When she had gathered up her train and left the +room, James carefully shut the door and went back +to his chair beside the table. Arthur sat as before, +perfectly motionless and silent. + +"Arthur," James began in a milder tone, now +Julia was not there to hear, "I am very sorry that +this has come out. You might just as well not +have known it. However, all that's over; and I +am pleased to see that you can behave with such +self-control. Julia is a--a little excited; ladies +often--anyhow, I don't want to be too hard on +you." + +He stopped to see what effect the kindly words +had produced; but Arthur was quite motionless. + +"Of course, my dear boy," James went on after +a moment, "this is a distressing story altogether, +and the best thing we can do is to hold our tongues +about it. My father was generous enough not to +divorce your mother when she confessed her fall to +him; he only demanded that the man who had led +her astray should leave the country at once; and, +as you know, he went to China as a missionary. +For my part, I was very much against your having +anything to do with him when he came back; but +my father, just at the last, consented to let him +teach you, on condition that he never attempted to +see your mother. I must, in justice, acknowledge +that I believe they both observed that condition +faithfully to the end. It is a very deplorable +business; but----" + +Arthur looked up. All the life and expression +had gone out of his face; it was like a waxen +mask. + +"D-don't you think," he said softly, with a curious +stammering hesitation on the words, "th-that--all +this--is--v-very--funny?" + +"FUNNY?" James pushed his chair away from +the table, and sat staring at him, too much petrified +for anger. "Funny! Arthur, are you mad?" + +Arthur suddenly threw back his head, and burst +into a frantic fit of laughing. + +"Arthur!" exclaimed the shipowner, rising with +dignity, "I am amazed at your levity!" + +There was no answer but peal after peal of +laughter, so loud and boisterous that even James +began to doubt whether there was not something +more the matter here than levity. + +"Just like a hysterical woman," he muttered, +turning, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders, +to tramp impatiently up and down the room. +"Really, Arthur, you're worse than Julia; there, +stop laughing! I can't wait about here all night." + +He might as well have asked the crucifix to come +down from its pedestal. Arthur was past caring +for remonstrances or exhortations; he only +laughed, and laughed, and laughed without end. + +"This is absurd!" said James, stopping at last +in his irritated pacing to and fro. "You are evidently +too much excited to be reasonable to-night. +I can't talk business with you if you're going on +that way. Come to me to-morrow morning after +breakfast. And now you had better go to bed. +Good-night." + +He went out, slamming the door. "Now for the +hysterics downstairs," he muttered as he tramped +noisily away. "I suppose it'll be tears there!" + + . . . . . + +The frenzied laughter died on Arthur's lips. +He snatched up the hammer from the table and +flung himself upon the crucifix. + +With the crash that followed he came suddenly +to his senses, standing before the empty pedestal, +the hammer still in his hand, and the fragments of +the broken image scattered on the floor about his +feet. + +He threw down the hammer. "So easy!" he +said, and turned away. "And what an idiot +I am!" + +He sat down by the table, panting heavily for +breath, and rested his forehead on both hands. +Presently he rose, and, going to the wash-stand, +poured a jugful of cold water over his head and +face. He came back quite composed, and sat down +to think. + +And it was for such things as these--for these +false and slavish people, these dumb and soulless +gods--that he had suffered all these tortures of +shame and passion and despair; had made a rope +to hang himself, forsooth, because one priest was +a liar. As if they were not all liars! Well, all that +was done with; he was wiser now. He need only +shake off these vermin and begin life afresh. + +There were plenty of goods vessels in the docks; +it would be an easy matter to stow himself away +in one of them, and get across to Canada, Australia, +Cape Colony--anywhere. It was no matter +for the country, if only it was far enough; and, as +for the life out there, he could see, and if it did not +suit him he could try some other place. + +He took out his purse. Only thirty-three paoli; +but his watch was a good one. That would help +him along a bit; and in any case it was of no +consequence--he should pull through somehow. But +they would search for him, all these people; they +would be sure to make inquiries at the docks. No; +he must put them on a false scent--make them +believe him dead; then he should be quite free-- +quite free. He laughed softly to himself at the +thought of the Burtons searching for his corpse. +What a farce the whole thing was! + +Taking a sheet of paper, he wrote the first words +that occurred to him: + + +"I believed in you as I believed in God. God +is a thing made of clay, that I can smash with a +hammer; and you have fooled me with a lie." + + +He folded up the paper, directed it to Montanelli, +and, taking another sheet, wrote across it: +"Look for my body in Darsena." Then he put on +his hat and went out of the room. Passing his +mother's portrait, he looked up with a laugh +and a shrug of his shoulders. She, too, had lied +to him. + +He crept softly along the corridor, and, slipping +back the door-bolts, went out on to the great, +dark, echoing marble staircase. It seemed to +yawn beneath him like a black pit as he descended. + +He crossed the courtyard, treading cautiously +for fear of waking Gian Battista, who slept on the +ground floor. In the wood-cellar at the back was +a little grated window, opening on the canal and +not more than four feet from the ground. He +remembered that the rusty grating had broken away +on one side; by pushing a little he could make an +aperture wide enough to climb out by. + +The grating was strong, and he grazed his +hands badly and tore the sleeve of his coat; but +that was no matter. He looked up and down the +street; there was no one in sight, and the canal +lay black and silent, an ugly trench between two +straight and slimy walls. The untried universe +might prove a dismal hole, but it could hardly be +more flat and sordid than the corner which he was +leaving behind him. There was nothing to regret; +nothing to look back upon. It had been a pestilent +little stagnant world, full of squalid lies and clumsy +cheats and foul-smelling ditches that were not +even deep enough to drown a man. + +He walked along the canal bank, and came out +upon the tiny square by the Medici palace. It was +here that Gemma had run up to him with her vivid +face, her outstretched hands. Here was the little +flight of wet stone steps leading down to the moat; +and there the fortress scowling across the strip of +dirty water. He had never noticed before how +squat and mean it looked. + +Passing through the narrow streets he reached +the Darsena shipping-basin, where he took off his +hat and flung it into the water. It would be +found, of course, when they dragged for his body. +Then he walked on along the water's edge, considering +perplexedly what to do next. He must +contrive to hide on some ship; but it was a difficult +thing to do. His only chance would be to +get on to the huge old Medici breakwater and +walk along to the further end of it. There was a +low-class tavern on the point; probably he should +find some sailor there who could be bribed. + +But the dock gates were closed. How should +he get past them, and past the customs officials? +His stock of money would not furnish the high +bribe that they would demand for letting him +through at night and without a passport. Besides +they might recognize him. + +As he passed the bronze statue of the "Four +Moors," a man's figure emerged from an old house +on the opposite side of the shipping basin and +approached the bridge. Arthur slipped at once +into the deep shadow behind the group of statuary +and crouched down in the darkness, peeping +cautiously round the corner of the pedestal. + +It was a soft spring night, warm and starlit. +The water lapped against the stone walls of the +basin and swirled in gentle eddies round the steps +with a sound as of low laughter. Somewhere near +a chain creaked, swinging slowly to and fro. A +huge iron crane towered up, tall and melancholy +in the dimness. Black on a shimmering expanse of +starry sky and pearly cloud-wreaths, the figures +of the fettered, struggling slaves stood out in +vain and vehement protest against a merciless +doom. + +The man approached unsteadily along the water +side, shouting an English street song. He was +evidently a sailor returning from a carouse at some +tavern. No one else was within sight. As he +drew near, Arthur stood up and stepped into the +middle of the roadway. The sailor broke off in +his song with an oath, and stopped short. + +"I want to speak to you," Arthur said in +Italian. "Do you understand me?" + +The man shook his head. "It's no use talking +that patter to me," he said; then, plunging into +bad French, asked sullenly: "What do you want? +Why can't you let me pass?" + +"Just come out of the light here a minute; I +want to speak to you." + +"Ah! wouldn't you like it? Out of the light! +Got a knife anywhere about you?" + +"No, no, man! Can't you see I only want your +help? I'll pay you for it?" + +"Eh? What? And dressed like a swell, +too------" The sailor had relapsed into English. +He now moved into the shadow and leaned against +the railing of the pedestal. + +"Well," he said, returning to his atrocious +French; "and what is it you want?" + +"I want to get away from here----" + +"Aha! Stowaway! Want me to hide you? +Been up to something, I suppose. Stuck a knife +into somebody, eh? Just like these foreigners! +And where might you be wanting to go? Not +to the police station, I fancy?" + +He laughed in his tipsy way, and winked one eye. + +"What vessel do you belong to?" + +"Carlotta--Leghorn to Buenos Ayres; shipping +oil one way and hides the other. She's over +there"--pointing in the direction of the breakwater +--"beastly old hulk!" + +"Buenos Ayres--yes! Can you hide me anywhere on board?" + +"How much can you give?" + +"Not very much; I have only a few paoli." + +"No. Can't do it under fifty--and cheap at +that, too--a swell like you." + +"What do you mean by a swell? If you like my +clothes you may change with me, but I can't give +you more money than I have got." + +"You have a watch there. Hand it over." + +Arthur took out a lady's gold watch, delicately +chased and enamelled, with the initials "G. B." on +the back. It had been his mother's--but what +did that matter now? + +"Ah!" remarked the sailor with a quick glance +at it. "Stolen, of course! Let me look!" + +Arthur drew his hand away. "No," he said. +"I will give you the watch when we are on board; +not before." + +"You're not such a fool as you look, after all! +I'll bet it's your first scrape, though, eh?" + +"That is my business. Ah! there comes the +watchman." + +They crouched down behind the group of statuary +and waited till the watchman had passed. +Then the sailor rose, and, telling Arthur to follow +him, walked on, laughing foolishly to himself. +Arthur followed in silence. + +The sailor led him back to the little irregular +square by the Medici palace; and, stopping in a +dark corner, mumbled in what was intended for a +cautious whisper: + +"Wait here; those soldier fellows will see you +if you come further." + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Get you some clothes. I'm not going to take +you on board with that bloody coatsleeve." + +Arthur glanced down at the sleeve which had +been torn by the window grating. A little blood +from the grazed hand had fallen upon it. Evidently +the man thought him a murderer. Well, +it was of no consequence what people thought. + +After some time the sailor came back, triumphant, +with a bundle under his arm. + +"Change," he whispered; "and make haste +about it. I must get back, and that old Jew has +kept me bargaining and haggling for half an +hour." + +Arthur obeyed, shrinking with instinctive disgust +at the first touch of second-hand clothes. +Fortunately these, though rough and coarse, were +fairly clean. When he stepped into the light in +his new attire, the sailor looked at him with tipsy +solemnity and gravely nodded his approval. + +"You'll do," he said. "This way, and don't +make a noise." Arthur, carrying his discarded +clothes, followed him through a labyrinth of winding +canals and dark narrow alleys; the mediaeval +slum quarter which the people of Leghorn call +"New Venice." Here and there a gloomy old +palace, solitary among the squalid houses and +filthy courts, stood between two noisome ditches, +with a forlorn air of trying to preserve its ancient +dignity and yet of knowing the effort to be a hopeless +one. Some of the alleys, he knew, were +notorious dens of thieves, cut-throats, and smugglers; +others were merely wretched and poverty-stricken. + +Beside one of the little bridges the sailor +stopped, and, looking round to see that they were +not observed, descended a flight of stone steps to +a narrow landing stage. Under the bridge was a +dirty, crazy old boat. Sharply ordering Arthur +to jump in and lie down, he seated himself in the +boat and began rowing towards the harbour's +mouth. Arthur lay still on the wet and leaky +planks, hidden by the clothes which the man had +thrown over him, and peeping out from under +them at the familiar streets and houses. + +Presently they passed under a bridge and +entered that part of the canal which forms a moat +for the fortress. The massive walls rose out of +the water, broad at the base and narrowing upward +to the frowning turrets. How strong, how +threatening they had seemed to him a few hours +ago! And now---- + +He laughed softly as he lay in the bottom of the +boat. + +"Hold your noise," the sailor whispered, "and +keep your head covered! We're close to the +custom house." + +Arthur drew the clothes over his head. A few +yards further on the boat stopped before a row of +masts chained together, which lay across the surface +of the canal, blocking the narrow waterway +between the custom house and the fortress wall. +A sleepy official came out yawning and bent over +the water's edge with a lantern in his hand. + +"Passports, please." + +The sailor handed up his official papers. +Arthur, half stifled under the clothes, held his +breath, listening. + +"A nice time of night to come back to your +ship!" grumbled the customs official. "Been out +on the spree, I suppose. What's in your boat?" + +"Old clothes. Got them cheap." He held up +the waistcoat for inspection. The official, lowering +his lantern, bent over, straining his eyes to see. + +"It's all right, I suppose. You can pass." + +He lifted the barrier and the boat moved slowly +out into the dark, heaving water. At a little distance +Arthur sat up and threw off the clothes. + +"Here she is," the sailor whispered, after rowing +for some time in silence. "Keep close behind me +and hold your tongue." + +He clambered up the side of a huge black monster, +swearing under his breath at the clumsiness +of the landsman, though Arthur's natural agility +rendered him less awkward than most people +would have been in his place. Once safely on +board, they crept cautiously between dark masses +of rigging and machinery, and came at last to a +hatchway, which the sailor softly raised. + +"Down here!" he whispered. "I'll be back in +a minute." + +The hold was not only damp and dark, but intolerably +foul. At first Arthur instinctively drew +back, half choked by the stench of raw hides and +rancid oil. Then he remembered the "punishment +cell," and descended the ladder, shrugging +his shoulders. Life is pretty much the same +everywhere, it seemed; ugly, putrid, infested with +vermin, full of shameful secrets and dark corners. +Still, life is life, and he must make the best of it. + +In a few minutes the sailor came back with +something in his hands which Arthur could not +distinctly see for the darkness. + +"Now, give me the watch and money. Make +haste!" + +Taking advantage of the darkness, Arthur succeeded +in keeping back a few coins. + +"You must get me something to eat," he said; +"I am half starved." + +"I've brought it. Here you are." The sailor +handed him a pitcher, some hard biscuit, and a +piece of salt pork. "Now mind, you must hide +in this empty barrel, here, when the customs officers +come to examine to-morrow morning. Keep +as still as a mouse till we're right out at sea. I'll +let you know when to come out. And won't you +just catch it when the captain sees you--that's +all! Got the drink safe? Good-night!" + +The hatchway closed, and Arthur, setting the +precious "drink" in a safe place, climbed on to an +oil barrel to eat his pork and biscuit. Then he +curled himself up on the dirty floor; and, for the +first time since his babyhood, settled himself to +sleep without a prayer. The rats scurried round +him in the darkness; but neither their persistent +noise nor the swaying of the ship, nor the nauseating +stench of oil, nor the prospect of to-morrow's +sea-sickness, could keep him awake. He +cared no more for them all than for the broken and +dishonoured idols that only yesterday had been +the gods of his adoration. + + + + + +PART II. + +---------- + +THIRTEEN YEARS LATER. + +---------- + +CHAPTER I. + +ONE evening in July, 1846, a few acquaintances +met at Professor Fabrizi's house in Florence to +discuss plans for future political work. + +Several of them belonged to the Mazzinian +party and would have been satisfied with nothing +less than a democratic Republic and a United +Italy. Others were Constitutional Monarchists +and Liberals of various shades. On one point, +however, they were all agreed; that of dissatisfaction +with the Tuscan censorship; and the popular +professor had called the meeting in the hope that, +on this one subject at least, the representatives +of the dissentient parties would be able to get +through an hour's discussion without quarrelling. + +Only a fortnight had elapsed since the famous +amnesty which Pius IX. had granted, on his accession, +to political offenders in the Papal States; but +the wave of liberal enthusiasm caused by it was +already spreading over Italy. In Tuscany even +the government appeared to have been affected +by the astounding event. It had occurred to +Fabrizi and a few other leading Florentines that +this was a propitious moment for a bold effort to +reform the press-laws. + +"Of course," the dramatist Lega had said, when +the subject was first broached to him; "it would +be impossible to start a newspaper till we can +get the press-law changed; we should not bring +out the first number. But we may be able to run +some pamphlets through the censorship already; +and the sooner we begin the sooner we shall get +the law changed." + +He was now explaining in Fabrizi's library his +theory of the line which should be taken by liberal +writers at the moment. + +"There is no doubt," interposed one of the +company, a gray-haired barrister with a rather +drawling manner of speech, "that in some way +we must take advantage of the moment. We +shall not see such a favourable one again for bringing +forward serious reforms. But I doubt the +pamphlets doing any good. They will only irritate +and frighten the government instead of winning +it over to our side, which is what we really +want to do. If once the authorities begin to think +of us as dangerous agitators our chance of getting +their help is gone." + +"Then what would you have us do?" + +"Petition." + +"To the Grand Duke?" + +"Yes; for an augmentation of the liberty of the +press." + +A keen-looking, dark man sitting by the window +turned his head round with a laugh. + +"You'll get a lot out of petitioning!" he said. +"I should have thought the result of the Renzi +case was enough to cure anybody of going to work +that way." + +"My dear sir, I am as much grieved as you are +that we did not succeed in preventing the extradition +of Renzi. But really--I do not wish to +hurt the sensibilities of anyone, but I cannot help +thinking that our failure in that case was largely +due to the impatience and vehemence of some +persons among our number. I should certainly +hesitate----" + +"As every Piedmontese always does," the dark +man interrupted sharply. "I don't know where +the vehemence and impatience lay, unless you +found them in the strings of meek petitions we +sent in. That may be vehemence for Tuscany or +Piedmont, but we should not call it particularly +vehement in Naples." + +"Fortunately," remarked the Piedmontese, +"Neapolitan vehemence is peculiar to Naples." + +"There, there, gentlemen, that will do!" the +professor put in. "Neapolitan customs are very +good things in their way and Piedmontese customs +in theirs; but just now we are in Tuscany, +and the Tuscan custom is to stick to the +matter in hand. Grassini votes for petitions and +Galli against them. What do you think, Dr. +Riccardo?" + +"I see no harm in petitions, and if Grassini gets +one up I'll sign it with all the pleasure in life. +But I don't think mere petitioning and nothing +else will accomplish much. Why can't we have +both petitions and pamphlets?" + +"Simply because the pamphlets will put the +government into a state of mind in which it won't +grant the petitions," said Grassini. + +"It won't do that anyhow." The Neapolitan +rose and came across to the table. "Gentlemen, +you're on the wrong tack. Conciliating the government +will do no good. What we must do is to +rouse the people." + +"That's easier said than done; how are you +going to start?" + +"Fancy asking Galli that! Of course he'd start +by knocking the censor on the head." + +"No, indeed, I shouldn't," said Galli stoutly. +"You always think if a man comes from down +south he must believe in no argument but cold +steel." + +"Well, what do you propose, then? Sh! Attention, +gentlemen! Galli has a proposal to make." + +The whole company, which had broken up into +little knots of twos and threes, carrying on separate +discussions, collected round the table to +listen. Galli raised his hands in expostulation. + +"No, gentlemen, it is not a proposal; it is merely +a suggestion. It appears to me that there is a +great practical danger in all this rejoicing over +the new Pope. People seem to think that, because +he has struck out a new line and granted +this amnesty, we have only to throw ourselves-- +all of us, the whole of Italy--into his arms and he +will carry us to the promised land. Now, I am +second to no one in admiration of the Pope's +behaviour; the amnesty was a splendid action." + +"I am sure His Holiness ought to feel flattered----" +Grassini began contemptuously. + +"There, Grassini, do let the man speak!" +Riccardo interrupted in his turn. "It's a most +extraordinary thing that you two never can +keep from sparring like a cat and dog. Get on, +Galli!" + +"What I wanted to say is this," continued the +Neapolitan. "The Holy Father, undoubtedly, is +acting with the best intentions; but how far he +will succeed in carrying his reforms is another +question. Just now it's smooth enough and, of +course, the reactionists all over Italy will lie quiet +for a month or two till the excitement about the +amnesty blows over; but they are not likely to +let the power be taken out of their hands without +a fight, and my own belief is that before the winter +is half over we shall have Jesuits and Gregorians +and Sanfedists and all the rest of the crew about +our ears, plotting and intriguing, and poisoning +off everybody they can't bribe." + +"That's likely enough." + +"Very well, then; shall we wait here, meekly +sending in petitions, till Lambruschini and his +pack have persuaded the Grand Duke to put us +bodily under Jesuit rule, with perhaps a few Austrian +hussars to patrol the streets and keep us +in order; or shall we forestall them and take advantage +of their momentary discomfiture to strike +the first blow?" + +"Tell us first what blow you propose?" + +"I would suggest that we start an organized +propaganda and agitation against the Jesuits." + +"A pamphleteering declaration of war, in +fact?" + +"Yes; exposing their intrigues, ferreting out +their secrets, and calling upon the people to make +common cause against them." + +"But there are no Jesuits here to expose." + +"Aren't there? Wait three months and see +how many we shall have. It'll be too late to keep +them out then." + +"But really to rouse the town against the +Jesuits one must speak plainly; and if you do that +how will you evade the censorship?" + +"I wouldn't evade it; I would defy it." + +"You would print the pamphlets anonymously? +That's all very well, but the fact is, we have all +seen enough of the clandestine press to know----" + +"I did not mean that. I would print the pamphlets +openly, with our names and addresses, and +let them prosecute us if they dare." + +"The project is a perfectly mad one," Grassini +exclaimed. "It is simply putting one's head into +the lion's mouth out of sheer wantonness." + +"Oh, you needn't be afraid!" Galli cut in +sharply; "we shouldn't ask you to go to prison +for our pamphlets." + +"Hold your tongue, Galli!" said Riccardo. +"It's not a question of being afraid; we're all as +ready as you are to go to prison if there's any good +to be got by it, but it is childish to run into danger +for nothing. For my part, I have an amendment +to the proposal to suggest." + +"Well, what is it?" + +"I think we might contrive, with care, to fight +the Jesuits without coming into collision with the +censorship." + +"I don't see how you are going to manage it." + +"I think that it is possible to clothe what one +has to say in so roundabout a form that----" + +"That the censorship won't understand it? +And then you'll expect every poor artisan and +labourer to find out the meaning by the light of +the ignorance and stupidity that are in him! That +doesn't sound very practicable." + +"Martini, what do you think?" asked the professor, +turning to a broad-shouldered man with +a great brown beard, who was sitting beside him. + +"I think that I will reserve my opinion till I +have more facts to go upon. It's a question of +trying experiments and seeing what comes of them." + +"And you, Sacconi?" + +"I should like to hear what Signora Bolla has +to say. Her suggestions are always valuable." + +Everyone turned to the only woman in the +room, who had been sitting on the sofa, resting +her chin on one hand and listening in silence to +the discussion. She had deep, serious black eyes, +but as she raised them now there was an unmistakable +gleam of amusement in them. + +"I am afraid," she said; "that I disagree with +everybody." + +"You always do, and the worst of it is that you +are always right," Riccardo put in. + +"I think it is quite true that we must fight the +Jesuits somehow; and if we can't do it with one +weapon we must with another. But mere defiance +is a feeble weapon and evasion a cumbersome +one. As for petitioning, that is a child's toy." + +"I hope, signora," Grassini interposed, with +a solemn face; "that you are not suggesting such +methods as--assassination?" + +Martini tugged at his big moustache and Galli +sniggered outright. Even the grave young +woman could not repress a smile. + +"Believe me," she said, "that if I were ferocious +enough to think of such things I should not be +childish enough to talk about them. But the +deadliest weapon I know is ridicule. If you can +once succeed in rendering the Jesuits ludicrous, +in making people laugh at them and their claims, +you have conquered them without bloodshed." + +"I believe you are right, as far as that goes," +Fabrizi said; "but I don't see how you are going +to carry the thing through." + +"Why should we not be able to carry it +through?" asked Martini. "A satirical thing has +a better chance of getting over the censorship +difficulty than a serious one; and, if it must be +cloaked, the average reader is more likely to find +out the double meaning of an apparently silly joke +than of a scientific or economic treatise." + +"Then is your suggestion, signora, that we +should issue satirical pamphlets, or attempt to run +a comic paper? That last, I am sure, the censorship +would never allow." + +"I don't mean exactly either. I believe a series +of small satirical leaflets, in verse or prose, to be +sold cheap or distributed free about the streets, +would be very useful. If we could find a clever +artist who would enter into the spirit of the thing, +we might have them illustrated." + +"It's a capital idea, if only one could carry it +out; but if the thing is to be done at all it must +be well done. We should want a first-class satirist; +and where are we to get him?" + +"You see," added Lega, "most of us are +serious writers; and, with all respect to the company, +I am afraid that a general attempt to be +humorous would present the spectacle of an elephant +trying to dance the tarantella." + +"I never suggested that we should all rush into +work for which we are unfitted. My idea was +that we should try to find a really gifted satirist-- +there must be one to be got somewhere in Italy, +surely--and offer to provide the necessary funds. +Of course we should have to know something of +the man and make sure that he would work on +lines with which we could agree." + +"But where are you going to find him? I can +count up the satirists of any real talent on the +fingers of one hand; and none of them are available. +Giusti wouldn't accept; he is fully occupied +as it is. There are one or two good men in +Lombardy, but they write only in the Milanese +dialect----" + +"And moreover," said Grassini, "the Tuscan +people can be influenced in better ways than this. +I am sure that it would be felt as, to say the least, +a want of political savoir faire if we were to treat +this solemn question of civil and religious liberty +as a subject for trifling. Florence is not a mere +wilderness of factories and money-getting like +London, nor a haunt of idle luxury like Paris. It +is a city with a great history------" + +"So was Athens," she interrupted, smiling; +"but it was 'rather sluggish from its size and +needed a gadfly to rouse it'----" + +Riccardo struck his hand upon the table. +"Why, we never thought of the Gadfly! The very man!" + +"Who is that?" + +"The Gadfly--Felice Rivarez. Don't you remember +him? One of Muratori's band that came +down from the Apennines three years ago?" + +"Oh, you knew that set, didn't you? I remember +your travelling with them when they went on +to Paris." + +"Yes; I went as far as Leghorn to see Rivarez +off for Marseilles. He wouldn't stop in Tuscany; +he said there was nothing left to do but laugh, +once the insurrection had failed, and so he had +better go to Paris. No doubt he agreed with +Signor Grassini that Tuscany is the wrong place +to laugh in. But I am nearly sure he would come +back if we asked him, now that there is a chance +of doing something in Italy." + +"What name did you say?" + +"Rivarez. He's a Brazilian, I think. At any +rate, I know he has lived out there. He is one of +the wittiest men I ever came across. Heaven +knows we had nothing to be merry over, that week +in Leghorn; it was enough to break one's heart to +look at poor Lambertini; but there was no keeping +one's countenance when Rivarez was in the +room; it was one perpetual fire of absurdities. He +had a nasty sabre-cut across the face, too; I +remember sewing it up. He's an odd creature; +but I believe he and his nonsense kept some of +those poor lads from breaking down altogether." + +"Is that the man who writes political skits +in the French papers under the name of 'Le Taon'?" + +"Yes; short paragraphs mostly, and comic +feuilletons. The smugglers up in the Apennines +called him 'the Gadfly' because of his tongue; +and he took the nickname to sign his work +with." + +"I know something about this gentleman," +said Grassini, breaking in upon the conversation +in his slow and stately manner; "and I cannot say +that what I have heard is much to his credit. He +undoubtedly possesses a certain showy, superficial +cleverness, though I think his abilities have been +exaggerated; and possibly he is not lacking in +physical courage; but his reputation in Paris and +Vienna is, I believe, very far from spotless. He +appears to be a gentleman of--a--a--many adventures +and unknown antecedents. It is said that he +was picked up out of charity by Duprez's expedition +somewhere in the wilds of tropical South +America, in a state of inconceivable savagery and +degradation. I believe he has never satisfactorily +explained how he came to be in such a condition. +As for the rising in the Apennines, I fear it is no + + +101 + +secret that persons of all characters took part in +that unfortunate affair. The men who were executed +in Bologna are known to have been nothing +but common malefactors; and the character of +many who escaped will hardly bear description. +Without doubt, SOME of the participators were +men of high character----" + +"Some of them were the intimate friends of +several persons in this room!" Riccardo interrupted, +with an angry ring in his voice. "It's all +very well to be particular and exclusive, Grassini; +but these 'common malefactors' died for their +belief, which is more than you or I have done as +yet." + +"And another time when people tell you the +stale gossip of Paris," added Galli, "you can tell +them from me that they are mistaken about the +Duprez expedition. I know Duprez's adjutant, +Martel, personally, and have heard the whole story +from him. It's true that they found Rivarez +stranded out there. He had been taken prisoner +in the war, fighting for the Argentine Republic, +and had escaped. He was wandering about the +country in various disguises, trying to get back +to Buenos Ayres. But the story of their taking +him on out of charity is a pure fabrication. Their +interpreter had fallen ill and been obliged to turn +back; and not one of the Frenchmen could speak +the native languages; so they offered him the post, +and he spent the whole three years with them, +exploring the tributaries of the Amazon. Martel +told me he believed they never would have got +through the expedition at all if it had not been +for Rivarez." + +"Whatever he may be," said Fabrizi; "there +must be something remarkable about a man who +could lay his 'come hither' on two old campaigners +like Martel and Duprez as he seems to have +done. What do you think, signora?" + +"I know nothing about the matter; I was in +England when the fugitives passed through Tuscany. +But I should think that if the companions +who were with a man on a three years' expedition +in savage countries, and the comrades who were +with him through an insurrection, think well of +him, that is recommendation enough to counterbalance +a good deal of boulevard gossip." + +"There is no question about the opinion his +comrades had of him," said Riccardo. "From +Muratori and Zambeccari down to the roughest +mountaineers they were all devoted to him. +Moreover, he is a personal friend of Orsini. It's +quite true, on the other hand, that there are endless +cock-and-bull stories of a not very pleasant +kind going about concerning him in Paris; but if +a man doesn't want to make enemies he shouldn't +become a political satirist." + +"I'm not quite sure," interposed Lega; "but +it seems to me that I saw him once when +the refugees were here. Was he not hunchbacked, +or crooked, or something of that kind?" + +The professor had opened a drawer in his writing-table +and was turning over a heap of papers. +"I think I have his police description somewhere +here," he said. "You remember when they escaped +and hid in the mountain passes their personal +appearance was posted up everywhere, and +that Cardinal--what's the scoundrel's name?-- +Spinola, offered a reward for their heads." + +"There was a splendid story about Rivarez and +that police paper, by the way. He put on a +soldier's old uniform and tramped across country +as a carabineer wounded in the discharge of his +duty and trying to find his company. He actually +got Spinola's search-party to give him a lift, and +rode the whole day in one of their waggons, +telling them harrowing stories of how he had been +taken captive by the rebels and dragged off into +their haunts in the mountains, and of the fearful +tortures that he had suffered at their hands. They +showed him the description paper, and he told +them all the rubbish he could think of about 'the +fiend they call the Gadfly.' Then at night, when +they were asleep, he poured a bucketful of water +into their powder and decamped, with his pockets +full of provisions and ammunition------" + +"Ah, here's the paper," Fabrizi broke in: "'Felice +Rivarez, called: The Gadfly. Age, about 30; +birthplace and parentage, unknown, probably +South American; profession, journalist. Short; +black hair; black beard; dark skin; eyes, blue; +forehead, broad and square; nose, mouth, chin------' +Yes, here it is: 'Special marks: right foot lame; +left arm twisted; two ringers missing on left hand; +recent sabre-cut across face; stammers.' Then +there's a note put: 'Very expert shot; care should +be taken in arresting.'" + +"It's an extraordinary thing that he can have +managed to deceive the search-party with such a +formidable list of identification marks." + +"It was nothing but sheer audacity that carried +him through, of course. If it had once occurred +to them to suspect him he would have been lost. +But the air of confiding innocence that he can put +on when he chooses would bring a man through +anything. Well, gentlemen, what do you think of +the proposal? Rivarez seems to be pretty well +known to several of the company. Shall we suggest +to him that we should be glad of his help +here or not?" + +"I think," said Fabrizi, "that he might be +sounded upon the subject, just to find out whether +he would be inclined to think of the plan." + +"Oh, he'll be inclined, you may be sure, once +it's a case of fighting the Jesuits; he is the most +savage anti-clerical I ever met; in fact, he's rather +rabid on the point." + +"Then will you write, Riccardo?" + +"Certainly. Let me see, where is he now? In +Switzerland, I think. He's the most restless +being; always flitting about. But as for the pamphlet +question----" + +They plunged into a long and animated discussion. +When at last the company began to disperse Martini +went up to the quiet young woman. + +"I will see you home, Gemma." + +"Thanks; I want to have a business talk with +you." + +"Anything wrong with the addresses?" he +asked softly. + +"Nothing serious; but I think it is time to make +a few alterations. Two letters have been stopped +in the post this week. They were both quite unimportant, +and it may have been accidental; but +we cannot afford to have any risks. If once the +police have begun to suspect any of our addresses, +they must be changed immediately." + +"I will come in about that to-morrow. I am +not going to talk business with you to-night; +you look tired." + +"I am not tired." + +"Then you are depressed again." + +"Oh, no; not particularly." + + + +CHAPTER II. + +"Is the mistress in, Katie?" + +"Yes, sir; she is dressing. If you'll just step +into the parlour she will be down in a few +minutes." + +Katie ushered the visitor in with the cheerful +friendliness of a true Devonshire girl. Martini +was a special favourite of hers. He spoke English, +like a foreigner, of course, but still quite respectably; +and he never sat discussing politics at the top +of his voice till one in the morning, when the mistress +was tired, as some visitors had a way of +doing. Moreover, he had come to Devonshire to +help the mistress in her trouble, when her baby +was dead and her husband dying there; and ever +since that time the big, awkward, silent man had +been to Katie as much "one of the family" as was +the lazy black cat which now ensconced itself upon +his knee. Pasht, for his part, regarded Martini +as a useful piece of household furniture. This +visitor never trod upon his tail, or puffed tobacco +smoke into his eyes, or in any way obtruded upon +his consciousness an aggressive biped personality. +He behaved as a mere man should: provided a +comfortable knee to lie upon and purr, and at table +never forgot that to look on while human beings +eat fish is not interesting for a cat. The friendship +between them was of old date. Once, when +Pasht was a kitten and his mistress too ill to think +about him, he had come from England under Martini's +care, tucked away in a basket. Since then, +long experience had convinced him that this +clumsy human bear was no fair-weather friend. + +"How snug you look, you two!" said Gemma, +coming into the room. "One would think you +had settled yourselves for the evening." + +Martini carefully lifted the cat off his knee. "I +came early," he said, "in the hope that you will +give me some tea before we start. There will +probably be a frightful crush, and Grassini won't +give us any sensible supper--they never do in +those fashionable houses." + +"Come now!" she said, laughing; "that's as +bad as Galli! Poor Grassini has quite enough sins +of his own to answer for without having his wife's +imperfect housekeeping visited upon his head. +As for the tea, it will be ready in a minute. Katie +has been making some Devonshire cakes specially +for you." + +"Katie is a good soul, isn't she, Pasht? By the +way, so are you to have put on that pretty dress. +I was afraid you would forget." + +"I promised you I would wear it, though it is +rather warm for a hot evening like this." + +"It will be much cooler up at Fiesole; and +nothing else ever suits you so well as white cashmere. +I have brought you some flowers to wear with it." + +"Oh, those lovely cluster roses; I am so fond +of them! But they had much better go into water. +I hate to wear flowers." + +"Now that's one of your superstitious fancies." + +"No, it isn't; only I think they must get so +bored, spending all the evening pinned to such a +dull companion." + +"I am afraid we shall all be bored to-night. The +conversazione will be dull beyond endurance." + +"Why?" + +"Partly because everything Grassini touches +becomes as dull as himself." + +"Now don't be spiteful. It is not fair when we +are going to be a man's guests." + +"You are always right, Madonna. Well then, +it will be dull because half the interesting people +are not coming." + +"How is that?" + +"I don't know. Out of town, or ill, or something. +Anyway, there will be two or three ambassadors +and some learned Germans, and the usual +nondescript crowd of tourists and Russian princes +and literary club people, and a few French officers; +nobody else that I know of--except, of course, +the new satirist, who is to be the attraction of the +evening." + +"The new satirist? What, Rivarez? But I +thought Grassini disapproved of him so strongly." + +"Yes; but once the man is here and is sure to +be talked about, of course Grassini wants his house +to be the first place where the new lion will be on +show. You may be sure Rivarez has heard nothing +of Grassini's disapproval. He may have guessed +it, though; he's sharp enough." + +"I did not even know he had come." + +"He only arrived yesterday. Here comes the +tea. No, don't get up; let me fetch the kettle." + +He was never so happy as in this little study. +Gemma's friendship, her grave unconsciousness of +the charm she exercised over him, her frank and +simple comradeship were the brightest things for +him in a life that was none too bright; and whenever +he began to feel more than usually depressed +he would come in here after business hours and +sit with her, generally in silence, watching her as +she bent over her needlework or poured out tea. +She never questioned him about his troubles or +expressed any sympathy in words; but he always +went away stronger and calmer, feeling, as he put +it to himself, that he could "trudge through +another fortnight quite respectably." She possessed, +without knowing it, the rare gift of consolation; +and when, two years ago, his dearest +friends had been betrayed in Calabria and shot +down like wolves, her steady faith had been perhaps +the thing which had saved him from despair. + +On Sunday mornings he sometimes came in to +"talk business," that expression standing for anything +connected with the practical work of the +Mazzinian party, of which they both were active +and devoted members. She was quite a different +creature then; keen, cool, and logical, perfectly +accurate and perfectly neutral. Those who saw +her only at her political work regarded her as a +trained and disciplined conspirator, trustworthy, +courageous, in every way a valuable member of +the party, but somehow lacking in life and individuality. +"She's a born conspirator, worth any +dozen of us; and she is nothing more," Galli had +said of her. The "Madonna Gemma" whom +Martini knew was very difficult to get at. + +"Well, and what is your 'new satirist' like?" +she asked, glancing back over her shoulder as she +opened the sideboard. "There, Cesare, there are +barley-sugar and candied angelica for you. I wonder, +by the way, why revolutionary men are always +so fond of sweets." + +"Other men are, too, only they think it beneath +their dignity to confess it. The new satirist? Oh, +the kind of man that ordinary women will rave +over and you will dislike. A sort of professional +dealer in sharp speeches, that goes about the world +with a lackadaisical manner and a handsome ballet-girl +dangling on to his coat-tails." + +"Do you mean that there is really a ballet-girl, +or simply that you feel cross and want to imitate +the sharp speeches?" + +"The Lord defend me! No; the ballet-girl is +real enough and handsome enough, too, for those +who like shrewish beauty. Personally, I don't. +She's a Hungarian gipsy, or something of that +kind, so Riccardo says; from some provincial +theatre in Galicia. He seems to be rather a cool +hand; he has been introducing the girl to people +just as if she were his maiden aunt." + +"Well, that's only fair if he has taken her away +from her home." + +"You may look at things that way, dear Madonna, +but society won't. I think most people +will very much resent being introduced to a woman +whom they know to be his mistress." + +"How can they know it unless he tells them +so?" + +"It's plain enough; you'll see if you meet her. +But I should think even he would not have the +audacity to bring her to the Grassinis'." + +"They wouldn't receive her. Signora Grassini +is not the woman to do unconventional things of +that kind. But I wanted to hear about Signor +Rivarez as a satirist, not as a man. Fabrizi told +me he had been written to and had consented to +come and take up the campaign against the +Jesuits; and that is the last I have heard. There +has been such a rush of work this week." + +"I don't know that I can tell you much more. +There doesn't seem to have been any difficulty +over the money question, as we feared there would +be. He's well off, it appears, and willing to work +for nothing." + +"Has he a private fortune, then?" +"Apparently he has; though it seems rather +odd--you heard that night at Fabrizi's about +the state the Duprez expedition found him +in. But he has got shares in mines somewhere +out in Brazil; and then he has been immensely +successful as a feuilleton writer in Paris and +Vienna and London. He seems to have half a +dozen languages at his finger-tips; and there's +nothing to prevent his keeping up his newspaper +connections from here. Slanging the Jesuits +won't take all his time." + +"That's true, of course. It's time to start, +Cesare. Yes, I will wear the roses. Wait just a +minute." + +She ran upstairs, and came back with the roses +in the bosom of her dress, and a long scarf of black +Spanish lace thrown over her head. Martini surveyed +her with artistic approval. + +"You look like a queen, Madonna mia; like +the great and wise Queen of Sheba." + +"What an unkind speech!" she retorted, +laughing; "when you know how hard I've been +trying to mould myself into the image of the typical +society lady! Who wants a conspirator to +look like the Queen of Sheba? That's not the +way to keep clear of spies." + +"You'll never be able to personate the stupid +society woman if you try for ever. But it doesn't +matter, after all; you're too fair to look upon for +spies to guess your opinions, even though you +can't simper and hide behind your fan like Signora +Grassini." + +"Now Cesare, let that poor woman alone! +There, take some more barley-sugar to sweeten +your temper. Are you ready? Then we had +better start." + +Martini had been quite right in saying that the +conversazione would be both crowded and dull. +The literary men talked polite small-talk and +looked hopelessly bored, while the "nondescript +crowd of tourists and Russian princes" fluttered +up and down the rooms, asking each other who +were the various celebrities and trying to carry on +intellectual conversation. Grassini was receiving +his guests with a manner as carefully polished as +his boots; but his cold face lighted up at the sight +of Gemma. He did not really like her and indeed +was secretly a little afraid of her; but he realized +that without her his drawing room would lack a +great attraction. He had risen high in his profession, +and now that he was rich and well known +his chief ambition was to make of his house a +centre of liberal and intellectual society. He was +painfully conscious that the insignificant, overdressed +little woman whom in his youth he had +made the mistake of marrying was not fit, with +her vapid talk and faded prettiness, to be the +mistress of a great literary salon. When he could +prevail upon Gemma to come he always felt that +the evening would be a success. Her quiet +graciousness of manner set the guests at their ease, +and her very presence seemed to lay the spectre +of vulgarity which always, in his imagination, +haunted the house. + +Signora Grassini greeted Gemma affectionately, +exclaiming in a loud whisper: "How charming +you look to-night!" and examining the white +cashmere with viciously critical eyes. She hated +her visitor rancourously, for the very things for +which Martini loved her; for her quiet strength +of character; for her grave, sincere directness; +for the steady balance of her mind; for the very +expression of her face. And when Signora Grassini +hated a woman, she showed it by effusive tenderness. +Gemma took the compliments and +endearments for what they were worth, and +troubled her head no more about them. What +is called "going into society" was in her eyes one +of the wearisome and rather unpleasant tasks +which a conspirator who wishes not to attract the +notice of spies must conscientiously fulfil. She +classed it together with the laborious work of +writing in cipher; and, knowing how valuable a +practical safeguard against suspicion is the reputation +of being a well-dressed woman, studied the +fashion-plates as carefully as she did the keys of +her ciphers. + +The bored and melancholy literary lions brightened +up a little at the sound of Gemma's name; +she was very popular among them; and the radical +journalists, especially, gravitated at once to her +end of the long room. But she was far too practised +a conspirator to let them monopolize her. +Radicals could be had any day; and now, when +they came crowding round her, she gently sent +them about their business, reminding them with a +smile that they need not waste their time on converting +her when there were so many tourists in +need of instruction. For her part, she devoted +herself to an English M. P. whose sympathies the +republican party was anxious to gain; and, knowing +him to be a specialist on finance, she first won +his attention by asking his opinion on a technical +point concerning the Austrian currency, and then +deftly turned the conversation to the condition of +the Lombardo-Venetian revenue. The Englishman, +who had expected to be bored with small-talk, +looked askance at her, evidently fearing that +he had fallen into the clutches of a blue-stocking; +but finding that she was both pleasant to look at +and interesting to talk to, surrendered completely +and plunged into as grave a discussion of Italian +finance as if she had been Metternich. When +Grassini brought up a Frenchman "who wishes to +ask Signora Bolla something about the history of +Young Italy," the M. P. rose with a bewildered +sense that perhaps there was more ground for +Italian discontent than he had supposed. + +Later in the evening Gemma slipped out on to +the terrace under the drawing-room windows to +sit alone for a few moments among the great +camellias and oleanders. The close air and continually +shifting crowd in the rooms were beginning to give her +a headache. At the further end of the terrace stood a +row of palms and tree-ferns, planted in large tubs +which were hidden by a bank of lilies and other +flowering plants. The whole formed a complete screen, +behind which was a little nook commanding a beautiful +view out across the valley. The branches of a pomegranate +tree, clustered with late blossoms, hung beside the +narrow opening between the plants. + +In this nook Gemma took refuge, hoping that +no one would guess her whereabouts until she had +secured herself against the threatening headache +by a little rest and silence. The night was warm +and beautifully still; but coming out from the +hot, close rooms she felt it cool, and drew her lace +scarf about her head. + +Presently the sounds of voices and footsteps +approaching along the terrace roused her from the +dreamy state into which she had fallen. She drew +back into the shadow, hoping to escape notice and +get a few more precious minutes of silence before +again having to rack her tired brain for conversation. +To her great annoyance the footsteps +paused near to the screen; then Signora Grassini's +thin, piping little voice broke off for a moment in +its stream of chatter. + +The other voice, a man's, was remarkably soft +and musical; but its sweetness of tone was marred +by a peculiar, purring drawl, perhaps mere affectation, +more probably the result of a habitual +effort to conquer some impediment of speech, but +in any case very unpleasant. + +"English, did you say?" it asked. "But +surely the name is quite Italian. What was it-- +Bolla?" + +"Yes; she is the widow of poor Giovanni Bolla, +who died in England about four years ago,-- +don't you remember? Ah, I forgot--you lead +such a wandering life; we can't expect you to +know of all our unhappy country's martyrs--they +are so many!" + +Signora Grassini sighed. She always talked in +this style to strangers; the role of a patriotic +mourner for the sorrows of Italy formed an effective +combination with her boarding-school manner and +pretty infantine pout. + +"Died in England!" repeated the other voice. +"Was he a refugee, then? I seem to recognize +the name, somehow; was he not connected with +Young Italy in its early days?" + +"Yes; he was one of the unfortunate young +men who were arrested in '33--you remember +that sad affair? He was released in a few months; +then, two or three years later, when there was a +warrant out against him again, he escaped to +England. The next we heard was that he was +married there. It was a most romantic affair altogether, +but poor Bolla always was romantic." + +"And then he died in England, you say?" + +"Yes, of consumption; he could not stand that +terrible English climate. And she lost her only +child just before his death; it caught scarlet fever. +Very sad, is it not? And we are all so fond of +dear Gemma! She is a little stiff, poor thing; the +English always are, you know; but I think her +troubles have made her melancholy, and----" + +Gemma stood up and pushed back the boughs +of the pomegranate tree. This retailing of her +private sorrows for purposes of small-talk was +almost unbearable to her, and there was visible +annoyance in her face as she stepped into the +light. + +"Ah! here she is!" exclaimed the hostess, with +admirable coolness. "Gemma, dear, I was wondering +where you could have disappeared to. +Signor Felice Rivarez wishes to make your +acquaintance." + +"So it's the Gadfly," thought Gemma, looking +at him with some curiosity. He bowed to her +decorously enough, but his eyes glanced over her +face and figure with a look which seemed to +her insolently keen and inquisitorial. + +"You have found a d-d-delightful little nook +here," he remarked, looking at the thick screen; +"and w-w-what a charming view!" + +"Yes; it's a pretty corner. I came out here to +get some air." + +"It seems almost ungrateful to the good God +to stay indoors on such a lovely night," said the +hostess, raising her eyes to the stars. (She had +good eyelashes and liked to show them.) "Look, +signore! Would not our sweet Italy be heaven +on earth if only she were free? To think that she +should be a bond-slave, with such flowers and such +skies!" + +"And such patriotic women!" the Gadfly murmured +in his soft, languid drawl. + +Gemma glanced round at him in some trepidation; +his impudence was too glaring, surely, to +deceive anyone. But she had underrated Signora +Grassini's appetite for compliments; the poor +woman cast down her lashes with a sigh. + +"Ah, signore, it is so little that a woman can +do! Perhaps some day I may prove my right to +the name of an Italian--who knows? And now +I must go back to my social duties; the French +ambassador has begged me to introduce his ward +to all the notabilities; you must come in presently +and see her. She is a most charming girl. +Gemma, dear, I brought Signor Rivarez out to +show him our beautiful view; I must leave him +under your care. I know you will look after him +and introduce him to everyone. Ah! there is +that delightful Russian prince! Have you met +him? They say he is a great favourite of the +Emperor Nicholas. He is military commander +of some Polish town with a name that nobody can +pronounce. Quelle nuit magnifique! N'est-ce-pas, +mon prince?" + +She fluttered away, chattering volubly to a +bull-necked man with a heavy jaw and a coat glittering +with orders; and her plaintive dirges for +"notre malheureuse patrie," interpolated with +"charmant" and "mon prince," died away along +the terrace. + +Gemma stood quite still beside the pomegranate +tree. She was sorry for the poor, silly +little woman, and annoyed at the Gadfly's languid +insolence. He was watching the retreating figures +with an expression of face that angered her; it +seemed ungenerous to mock at such pitiable creatures. + +"There go Italian and--Russian patriotism," +he said, turning to her with a smile; "arm in arm +and mightily pleased with each other's company. +Which do you prefer?" + +She frowned slightly and made no answer. + +"Of c-course," he went on; "it's all a question +of p-personal taste; but I think, of the two, I like +the Russian variety best--it's so thorough. If +Russia had to depend on flowers and skies for her +supremacy instead of on powder and shot, how +long do you think 'mon prince' would k-keep +that Polish fortress?" + +"I think," she answered coldly, "that we can +hold our personal opinions without ridiculing a +woman whose guests we are." + +"Ah, yes! I f-forgot the obligations of hospitality +here in Italy; they are a wonderfully hospitable +people, these Italians. I'm sure the +Austrians find them so. Won't you sit down?" + +He limped across the terrace to fetch a chair +for her, and placed himself opposite to her, leaning +against the balustrade. The light from a +window was shining full on his face; and she was +able to study it at her leisure. + +She was disappointed. She had expected to +see a striking and powerful, if not pleasant face; +but the most salient points of his appearance were +a tendency to foppishness in dress and rather more +than a tendency to a certain veiled insolence of +expression and manner. For the rest, he was as +swarthy as a mulatto, and, notwithstanding his +lameness, as agile as a cat. His whole personality +was oddly suggestive of a black jaguar. The forehead +and left cheek were terribly disfigured by +the long crooked scar of the old sabre-cut; and +she had already noticed that, when he began to +stammer in speaking, that side of his face was +affected with a nervous twitch. But for these +defects he would have been, in a certain restless +and uncomfortable way, rather handsome; but it +was not an attractive face. + +Presently he began again in his soft, murmuring +purr ("Just the voice a jaguar would talk in, +if it could speak and were in a good humour," +Gemma said to herself with rising irritation). + +"I hear," he said, "that you are interested in +the radical press, and write for the papers." + +"I write a little; I have not time to do much." + +"Ah, of course! I understood from Signora +Grassini that you undertake other important +work as well." + +Gemma raised her eyebrows slightly. Signora +Grassini, like the silly little woman she was, had +evidently been chattering imprudently to this +slippery creature, whom Gemma, for her part, was +beginning actually to dislike. + +"My time is a good deal taken up," she said +rather stiffly; "but Signora Grassini overrates +the importance of my occupations. They are +mostly of a very trivial character." + +"Well, the world would be in a bad way if we +ALL of us spent our time in chanting dirges for +Italy. I should think the neighbourhood of our +host of this evening and his wife would make anybody +frivolous, in self-defence. Oh, yes, I know +what you're going to say; you are perfectly right, +but they are both so deliciously funny with their +patriotism.--Are you going in already? It is so +nice out here!" + +"I think I will go in now. Is that my scarf? +Thank you." + +He had picked it up, and now stood looking at +her with wide eyes as blue and innocent as forget-me-nots +in a brook. + +"I know you are offended with me," he said +penitently, "for fooling that painted-up wax doll; +but what can a fellow do?" + +"Since you ask me, I do think it an ungenerous +and--well--cowardly thing to hold one's intellectual +inferiors up to ridicule in that way; it is +like laughing at a cripple, or------" + +He caught his breath suddenly, painfully; and +shrank back, glancing at his lame foot and mutilated +hand. In another instant he recovered his +self-possession and burst out laughing. + +"That's hardly a fair comparison, signora; we +cripples don't flaunt our deformities in people's +faces as she does her stupidity. At least give us +credit for recognizing that crooked backs are no +pleasanter than crooked ways. There is a step +here; will you take my arm?" + +She re-entered the house in embarrassed silence; +his unexpected sensitiveness had completely disconcerted her. + +Directly he opened the door of the great reception +room she realized that something unusual +had happened in her absence. Most of the gentlemen +looked both angry and uncomfortable; +the ladies, with hot cheeks and carefully feigned +unconsciousness, were all collected at one end of +the room; the host was fingering his eye-glasses +with suppressed but unmistakable fury, and a little +group of tourists stood in a corner casting amused +glances at the further end of the room. Evidently +something was going on there which appeared to +them in the light of a joke, and to most +of the guests in that of an insult. Signora Grassini +alone did not appear to have noticed anything; +she was fluttering her fan coquettishly +and chattering to the secretary of the Dutch +embassy, who listened with a broad grin on his +face. + +Gemma paused an instant in the doorway, turning +to see if the Gadfly, too, had noticed the disturbed +appearance of the company. There was +no mistaking the malicious triumph in his eyes as +he glanced from the face of the blissfully unconscious +hostess to a sofa at the end of the room. +She understood at once; he had brought his mistress +here under some false colour, which had +deceived no one but Signora Grassini. + +The gipsy-girl was leaning back on the sofa, +surrounded by a group of simpering dandies and +blandly ironical cavalry officers. She was gorgeously +dressed in amber and scarlet, with an +Oriental brilliancy of tint and profusion of ornament +as startling in a Florentine literary salon +as if she had been some tropical bird among +sparrows and starlings. She herself seemed to +feel out of place, and looked at the offended +ladies with a fiercely contemptuous scowl. Catching +sight of the Gadfly as he crossed the room +with Gemma, she sprang up and came towards +him, with a voluble flood of painfully incorrect +French. + +"M. Rivarez, I have been looking for you everywhere! +Count Saltykov wants to know whether +you can go to his villa to-morrow night. There +will be dancing." + +"I am sorry I can't go; but then I couldn't +dance if I did. Signora Bolla, allow me to introduce +to you Mme. Zita Reni." + +The gipsy glanced round at Gemma with a half +defiant air and bowed stiffly. She was certainly +handsome enough, as Martini had said, with a +vivid, animal, unintelligent beauty; and the perfect +harmony and freedom of her movements were +delightful to see; but her forehead was low and +narrow, and the line of her delicate nostrils was +unsympathetic, almost cruel. The sense of +oppression which Gemma had felt in the Gadfly's +society was intensified by the gypsy's presence; +and when, a moment later, the host came up to +beg Signora Bolla to help him entertain some +tourists in the other room, she consented with an +odd feeling of relief. + + . . . . . + +"Well, Madonna, and what do you think of the +Gadfly?" Martini asked as they drove back to +Florence late at night. "Did you ever see anything +quite so shameless as the way he fooled that +poor little Grassini woman?" + +"About the ballet-girl, you mean?" + +"Yes, he persuaded her the girl was going to +be the lion of the season. Signora Grassini would +do anything for a celebrity." + +"I thought it an unfair and unkind thing to +do; it put the Grassinis into a false position; and +it was nothing less than cruel to the girl herself. +I am sure she felt ill at ease." + +"You had a talk with him, didn't you? What +did you think of him?" + +"Oh, Cesare, I didn't think anything except +how glad I was to see the last of him. I never +met anyone so fearfully tiring. He gave me a +headache in ten minutes. He is like an incarnate +demon of unrest." + +"I thought you wouldn't like him; and, to tell +the truth, no more do I. The man's as slippery +as an eel; I don't trust him." + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE Gadfly took lodgings outside the Roman +gate, near to which Zita was boarding. He was +evidently somewhat of a sybarite; and, though +nothing in the rooms showed any serious extravagance, +there was a tendency to luxuriousness in +trifles and to a certain fastidious daintiness in the +arrangement of everything which surprised Galli +and Riccardo. They had expected to find a man +who had lived among the wildernesses of the Amazon +more simple in his tastes, and wondered at his +spotless ties and rows of boots, and at the masses +of flowers which always stood upon his writing +table. On the whole they got on very well with +him. He was hospitable and friendly to everyone, +especially to the local members of the Mazzinian +party. To this rule Gemma, apparently, formed +an exception; he seemed to have taken a dislike to +her from the time of their first meeting, and in +every way avoided her company. On two or three +occasions he was actually rude to her, thus bringing +upon himself Martini's most cordial detestation. +There had been no love lost between the +two men from the beginning; their temperaments +appeared to be too incompatible for them to feel +anything but repugnance for each other. On +Martini's part this was fast developing into +hostility. + +"I don't care about his not liking me," he said +one day to Gemma with an aggrieved air. "I +don't like him, for that matter; so there's no harm +done. But I can't stand the way he behaves to +you. If it weren't for the scandal it would make +in the party first to beg a man to come and then +to quarrel with him, I should call him to account +for it." + +"Let him alone, Cesare; it isn't of any consequence, +and after all, it's as much my fault as his." + +"What is your fault?" + +"That he dislikes me so. I said a brutal thing +to him when we first met, that night at the +Grassinis'." + +"YOU said a brutal thing? That's hard to +believe, Madonna." + +"It was unintentional, of course, and I was very +sorry. I said something about people laughing at +cripples, and he took it personally. It had never +occurred to me to think of him as a cripple; he is +not so badly deformed." + +"Of course not. He has one shoulder higher +than the other, and his left arm is pretty badly +disabled, but he's neither hunchbacked nor clubfooted. +As for his lameness, it isn't worth talking +about." + +"Anyway, he shivered all over and changed +colour. Of course it was horribly tactless of me, +but it's odd he should be so sensitive. I wonder +if he has ever suffered from any cruel jokes of that +kind." + +"Much more likely to have perpetrated them, I +should think. There's a sort of internal brutality +about that man, under all his fine manners, that +is perfectly sickening to me." + +"Now, Cesare, that's downright unfair. I +don't like him any more than you do, but what is +the use of making him out worse than he is? His +manner is a little affected and irritating--I expect +he has been too much lionized--and the everlasting +smart speeches are dreadfully tiring; but I +don't believe he means any harm." + +"I don't know what he means, but there's something +not clean about a man who sneers at everything. It +fairly disgusted me the other day at +Fabrizi's debate to hear the way he cried down +the reforms in Rome, just as if he wanted to find +a foul motive for everything." + +Gemma sighed. "I am afraid I agreed better +with him than with you on that point," she said. +"All you good people are so full of the most +delightful hopes and expectations; you are always +ready to think that if one well-meaning middle-aged +gentleman happens to get elected Pope, +everything else will come right of itself. He has +only got to throw open the prison doors and give +his blessing to everybody all round, and we may +expect the millennium within three months. You +never seem able to see that he can't set things +right even if he would. It's the principle of the +thing that's wrong, not the behaviour of this man +or that." + +"What principle? The temporal power of the +Pope?" + +"Why that in particular? That's merely a part +of the general wrong. The bad principle is that +any man should hold over another the power to +bind and loose. It's a false relationship to stand +in towards one's fellows." + +Martini held up his hands. "That will do, Madonna," +he said, laughing. "I am not going to +discuss with you, once you begin talking rank +Antinomianism in that fashion. I'm sure your +ancestors must have been English Levellers in the +seventeenth century. Besides, what I came round +about is this MS." + +He pulled it out of his pocket. + +"Another new pamphlet?" + +"A stupid thing this wretched man Rivarez +sent in to yesterday's committee. I knew we +should come to loggerheads with him before +long." + +"What is the matter with it? Honestly, +Cesare, I think you are a little prejudiced. Rivarez +may be unpleasant, but he's not stupid." + +"Oh, I don't deny that this is clever enough in +its way; but you had better read the thing +yourself." + +The pamphlet was a skit on the wild enthusiasm +over the new Pope with which Italy was still +ringing. Like all the Gadfly's writing, it was +bitter and vindictive; but, notwithstanding her +irritation at the style, Gemma could not help +recognizing in her heart the justice of the criticism. + +"I quite agree with you that it is detestably +malicious," she said, laying down the manuscript. +"But the worst thing about it is that it's all true." + +"Gemma!" + +"Yes, but it is. The man's a cold-blooded eel, +if you like; but he's got the truth on his side. +There is no use in our trying to persuade ourselves +that this doesn't hit the mark--it does!" + +"Then do you suggest that we should print it?" + +"Ah! that's quite another matter. I certainly +don't think we ought to print it as it stands; it +would hurt and alienate everybody and do no +good. But if he would rewrite it and cut out the +personal attacks, I think it might be made into a +really valuable piece of work. As political criticism +it is very fine. I had no idea he could write +so well. He says things which need saying and +which none of us have had the courage to say. +This passage, where he compares Italy to a tipsy +man weeping with tenderness on the neck of the +thief who is picking his pocket, is splendidly +written." + +"Gemma! The very worst bit in the whole +thing! I hate that ill-natured yelping at everything +and everybody!" + +"So do I; but that's not the point. Rivarez +has a very disagreeable style, and as a human being +he is not attractive; but when he says that we have +made ourselves drunk with processions and embracing +and shouting about love and reconciliation, and that +the Jesuits and Sanfedists are the people who will +profit by it all, he's right a thousand times. I +wish I could have been at the committee yesterday. +What decision did you finally arrive at?" + +"What I have come here about: to ask you to +go and talk it over with him and persuade him to +soften the thing." + +"Me? But I hardly know the man; and besides +that, he detests me. Why should I go, of all +people?" + +"Simply because there's no one else to do it +to-day. Besides, you are more reasonable than +the rest of us, and won't get into useless arguments +and quarrel with him, as we should." + +"I shan't do that, certainly. Well, I will go if +you like, though I have not much hope of success." + +"I am sure you will be able to manage him if +you try. Yes, and tell him that the committee +all admired the thing from a literary point of view. +That will put him into a good humour, and it's perfectly +true, too." + + . . . . . + +The Gadfly was sitting beside a table covered +with flowers and ferns, staring absently at the +floor, with an open letter on his knee. A shaggy +collie dog, lying on a rug at his feet, raised its +head and growled as Gemma knocked at the open +door, and the Gadfly rose hastily and bowed in a +stiff, ceremonious way. His face had suddenly +grown hard and expressionless. + +"You are too kind," he said in his most chilling +manner. "If you had let me know that you +wanted to speak to me I would have called on +you." + +Seeing that he evidently wished her at the end +of the earth, Gemma hastened to state her business. +He bowed again and placed a chair for her. + +"The committee wished me to call upon you," +she began, "because there has been a certain difference +of opinion about your pamphlet." + +"So I expected." He smiled and sat down opposite +to her, drawing a large vase of chrysanthemums +between his face and the light. + +"Most of the members agreed that, however +much they may admire the pamphlet as a literary +composition, they do not think that in its present +form it is quite suitable for publication. They fear +that the vehemence of its tone may give offence, +and alienate persons whose help and support are +valuable to the party." + +He pulled a chrysanthemum from the vase and +began slowly plucking off one white petal after +another. As her eyes happened to catch the +movement of the slim right hand dropping the +petals, one by one, an uncomfortable sensation +came over Gemma, as though she had somewhere +seen that gesture before. + +"As a literary composition," he remarked in +his soft, cold voice, "it is utterly worthless, and +could be admired only by persons who know nothing +about literature. As for its giving offence, +that is the very thing I intended it to do." + +"That I quite understand. The question is +whether you may not succeed in giving offence to +the wrong people." + +He shrugged his shoulders and put a torn-off +petal between his teeth. "I think you are mistaken," +he said. "The question is: For what purpose did +your committee invite me to come here? I understood, +to expose and ridicule the Jesuits. I fulfil my +obligation to the best of my ability." + +"And I can assure you that no one has any +doubt as to either the ability or the good-will. +What the committee fears is that the liberal party +may take offence, and also that the town workmen +may withdraw their moral support. You may have +meant the pamphlet for an attack upon the Sanfedists: +but many readers will construe it as an +attack upon the Church and the new Pope; and +this, as a matter of political tactics, the +committee does not consider desirable." + +"I begin to understand. So long as I keep to +the particular set of clerical gentlemen with whom +the party is just now on bad terms, I may speak +sooth if the fancy takes me; but directly I touch +upon the committee's own pet priests--'truth's a +dog must to kennel; he must be whipped out, +when the--Holy Father may stand by the fire +and-----' Yes, the fool was right; I'd rather be +any kind of a thing than a fool. Of course I +must bow to the committee's decision, but I +continue to think that it has pared its wit o' both +sides and left--M-mon-signor M-m-montan-n-nelli +in the middle." + +"Montanelli?" Gemma repeated. "I don't understand +you. Do you mean the Bishop of Brisighella?" + +"Yes; the new Pope has just created him a +Cardinal, you know. I have a letter about him +here. Would you care to hear it? The writer is +a friend of mine on the other side of the frontier." + +"The Papal frontier?" + +"Yes. This is what he writes----" He took +up the letter which had been in his hand when she +entered, and read aloud, suddenly beginning to +stammer violently: + +"'Y-o-you will s-s-s-soon have the p-pleasure +of m-m-meeting one of our w-w-worst enemies, +C-cardinal Lorenzo M-montan-n-nelli, the +B-b-bishop of Brisig-g-hella. He int-t----'" + +He broke off, paused a moment, and began +again, very slowly and drawling insufferably, but +no longer stammering: + +"'He intends to visit Tuscany during the coming +month on a mission of reconciliation. He will +preach first in Florence, where he will stay for +about three weeks; then will go on to Siena and +Pisa, and return to the Romagna by Pistoja. He +ostensibly belongs to the liberal party in the +Church, and is a personal friend of the Pope and +Cardinal Feretti. Under Gregory he was out of +favour, and was kept out of sight in a little hole +in the Apennines. Now he has come suddenly to +the front. Really, of course, he is as much pulled +by Jesuit wires as any Sanfedist in the country. +This mission was suggested by some of the Jesuit +fathers. He is one of the most brilliant preachers +in the Church, and as mischievous in his way as +Lambruschini himself. His business is to keep +the popular enthusiasm over the Pope from subsiding, +and to occupy the public attention until +the Grand Duke has signed a project which the +agents of the Jesuits are preparing to lay before +him. What this project is I have been unable to +discover.' Then, further on, it says: 'Whether +Montanelli understands for what purpose he is +being sent to Tuscany, or whether the Jesuits are +playing on him, I cannot make out. He is either +an uncommonly clever knave, or the biggest ass +that was ever foaled. The odd thing is that, so +far as I can discover, he neither takes bribes nor +keeps mistresses--the first time I ever came +across such a thing.'" + +He laid down the letter and sat looking at her +with half-shut eyes, waiting, apparently, for her to +speak. + +"Are you satisfied that your informant is correct +in his facts?" she asked after a moment. + +"As to the irreproachable character of Monsignor +M-mon-t-tan-nelli's private life? No; but +neither is he. As you will observe, he puts in the +s-s-saving clause: 'So far as I c-can discover---- + +"I was not speaking of that," she interposed +coldly, "but of the part about this mission." + +"I can fully trust the writer. He is an old +friend of mine--one of my comrades of '43, and he +is in a position which gives him exceptional +opportunities for finding out things of that kind." + +"Some official at the Vatican," thought Gemma +quickly. "So that's the kind of connections you +have? I guessed there was something of that sort." + +"This letter is, of course, a private one," the +Gadfly went on; "and you understand that the +information is to be kept strictly to the members +of your committee." + +"That hardly needs saying. Then about the +pamphlet: may I tell the committee that you consent +to make a few alterations and soften it a little, +or that----" + +"Don't you think the alterations may succeed +in spoiling the beauty of the 'literary composition,' +signora, as well as in reducing the vehemence +of the tone?" + +"You are asking my personal opinion. What +I have come here to express is that of the committee +as a whole." + +"Does that imply that y-y-you disagree with the +committee as a whole?" He had put the letter +into his pocket and was now leaning forward and +looking at her with an eager, concentrated expression +which quite changed the character of his +face. "You think----" + +"If you care to know what I personally think +--I disagree with the majority on both points. I +do not at all admire the pamphlet from a literary +point of view, and I do think it true as a presentation +of facts and wise as a matter of tactics." + +"That is------" + +"I quite agree with you that Italy is being led +away by a will-o'-the-wisp and that all this enthusiasm +and rejoicing will probably land her in a +terrible bog; and I should be most heartily glad +to have that openly and boldly said, even at the +cost of offending or alienating some of our present +supporters. But as a member of a body the large +majority of which holds the opposite view, I cannot +insist upon my personal opinion; and I certainly +think that if things of that kind are to be +said at all, they should be said temperately and +quietly; not in the tone adopted in this pamphlet." + +"Will you wait a minute while I look through +the manuscript?" + +He took it up and glanced down the pages. A +dissatisfied frown settled on his face. + +"Yes, of course, you are perfectly right. The +thing's written like a cafe chantant skit, not a +political satire. But what's a man to do? If I +write decently the public won't understand it; +they will say it's dull if it isn't spiteful enough." + +"Don't you think spitefulness manages to be +dull when we get too much of it?" + +He threw a keen, rapid glance at her, and burst +out laughing. + +"Apparently the signora belongs to the dreadful +category of people who are always right! +Then if I yield to the temptation to be spiteful, I +may come in time to be as dull as Signora Grassini? +Heavens, what a fate! No, you needn't +frown. I know you don't like me, and I am going +to keep to business. What it comes to, then, +is practically this: if I cut out the personalities and +leave the essential part of the thing as it is, the +committee will very much regret that they can't +take the responsibility of printing it. If I cut out +the political truth and make all the hard names +apply to no one but the party's enemies, the committee +will praise the thing up to the skies, and +you and I will know it's not worth printing. +Rather a nice point of metaphysics: Which is the +more desirable condition, to be printed and not be +worth it, or to be worth it and not be printed? +Well, signora?" + +"I do not think you are tied to any such alternative. +I believe that if you were to cut out the +personalities the committee would consent to +print the pamphlet, though the majority would, +of course, not agree with it; and I am convinced +that it would be very useful. But you would have +to lay aside the spitefulness. If you are going to +say a thing the substance of which is a big pill for +your readers to swallow, there is no use in frightening +them at the beginning by the form." + +He sighed and shrugged his shoulders resignedly. +"I submit, signora; but on one condition. +If you rob me of my laugh now, I must have it +out next time. When His Eminence, the irreproachable +Cardinal, turns up in Florence, neither +you nor your committee must object to my being +as spiteful as I like. It's my due!" + +He spoke in his lightest, coldest manner, pulling +the chrysanthemums out of their vase and +holding them up to watch the light through the +translucent petals. "What an unsteady hand he +has," she thought, seeing how the flowers shook +and quivered. "Surely he doesn't drink!" + +"You had better discuss the matter with the +other members of the committee," she said, rising. +"I cannot form any opinion as to what they will +think about it." + +"And you?" He had risen too, and was leaning +against the table, pressing the flowers to his face + +She hesitated. The question distressed her, +bringing up old and miserable associations. "I +--hardly know," she said at last. "Many years +ago I used to know something about Monsignor +Montanelli. He was only a canon at that time, +and Director of the theological seminary in the +province where I lived as a girl. I heard a great +deal about him from--someone who knew him +very intimately; and I never heard anything of him +that was not good. I believe that, in those days +at least, he was really a most remarkable man. +But that was long ago, and he may have changed. +Irresponsible power corrupts so many people." + +The Gadfly raised his head from the flowers, and +looked at her with a steady face. + +"At any rate," he said, "if Monsignor Montanelli +is not himself a scoundrel, he is a tool in +scoundrelly hands. It is all one to me which he +is--and to my friends across the frontier. A stone +in the path may have the best intentions, but it +must be kicked out of the path, for all that. +Allow me, signora!" He rang the bell, and, limping +to the door, opened it for her to pass out. + +"It was very kind of you to call, signora. May +I send for a vettura? No? Good-afternoon, then! +Bianca, open the hall-door, please." + +Gemma went out into the street, pondering +anxiously. "My friends across the frontier"-- +who were they? And how was the stone to be +kicked out of the path? If with satire only, why +had he said it with such dangerous eyes? + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MONSIGNOR MONTANELLI arrived in Florence +in the first week of October. His visit caused a +little flutter of excitement throughout the town. +He was a famous preacher and a representative of +the reformed Papacy; and people looked eagerly +to him for an exposition of the "new doctrine," +the gospel of love and reconciliation which was to +cure the sorrows of Italy. The nomination of +Cardinal Gizzi to the Roman State Secretaryship +in place of the universally detested Lambruschini +had raised the public enthusiasm to its highest +pitch; and Montanelli was just the man who could +most easily sustain it. The irreproachable strictness +of his life was a phenomenon sufficiently rare +among the high dignitaries of the Roman Church +to attract the attention of people accustomed to +regard blackmailing, peculation, and disreputable +intrigues as almost invariable adjuncts to the +career of a prelate. Moreover, his talent as a +preacher was really great; and with his beautiful +voice and magnetic personality, he would in any +time and place have made his mark. + +Grassini, as usual, strained every nerve to get +the newly arrived celebrity to his house; but +Montanelli was no easy game to catch. To all +invitations he replied with the same courteous but +positive refusal, saying that his health was bad and +his time fully occupied, and that he had neither +strength nor leisure for going into society. + +"What omnivorous creatures those Grassinis +are!" Martini said contemptuously to Gemma as +they crossed the Signoria square one bright, cold +Sunday morning. "Did you notice the way +Grassini bowed when the Cardinal's carriage drove +up? It's all one to them who a man is, so long as +he's talked about. I never saw such lion-hunters +in my life. Only last August it was the Gadfly; +now it's Montanelli. I hope His Eminence feels +flattered at the attention; a precious lot of adventurers +have shared it with him." + +They had been hearing Montanelli preach in +the Cathedral; and the great building had been so +thronged with eager listeners that Martini, fearing +a return of Gemma's troublesome headaches, +had persuaded her to come away before the Mass +was over. The sunny morning, the first after a +week of rain, offered him an excuse for suggesting +a walk among the garden slopes by San Niccolo. + +"No," she answered; "I should like a walk if +you have time; but not to the hills. Let us keep +along the Lung'Arno; Montanelli will pass on his +way back from church and I am like Grassini-- +I want to see the notability." + +"But you have just seen him." + +"Not close. There was such a crush in the +Cathedral, and his back was turned to us when the +carriage passed. If we keep near to the bridge +we shall be sure to see him well--he is staying +on the Lung'Arno, you know." + +"But what has given you such a sudden fancy +to see Montanelli? You never used to care about +famous preachers." + +"It is not famous preachers; it is the man himself; +I want to see how much he has changed since I saw him last." + +"When was that?" + +"Two days after Arthur's death." + +Martini glanced at her anxiously. They had +come out on to the Lung'Arno, and she was staring +absently across the water, with a look on her +face that he hated to see. + +"Gemma, dear," he said after a moment; "are +you going to let that miserable business haunt +you all your life? We have all made mistakes +when we were seventeen." + +"We have not all killed our dearest friend when +we were seventeen," she answered wearily; and, +leaning her arm on the stone balustrade of the +bridge, looked down into the river. Martini held +his tongue; he was almost afraid to speak to her +when this mood was on her. + +"I never look down at water without remembering," +she said, slowly raising her eyes to his; +then with a nervous little shiver: "Let us walk +on a bit, Cesare; it is chilly for standing." + +They crossed the bridge in silence and walked +on along the river-side. After a few minutes she +spoke again. + +"What a beautiful voice that man has! There +is something about it that I have never heard in +any other human voice. I believe it is the secret +of half his influence." + +"It is a wonderful voice," Martini assented, +catching at a subject of conversation which might +lead her away from the dreadful memory called up +by the river, "and he is, apart from his voice, +about the finest preacher I have ever heard. But +I believe the secret of his influence lies deeper than +that. It is the way his life stands out from that +of almost all the other prelates. I don't know +whether you could lay your hand on one other +high dignitary in all the Italian Church--except +the Pope himself--whose reputation is so utterly +spotless. I remember, when I was in the Romagna +last year, passing through his diocese and +seeing those fierce mountaineers waiting in the +rain to get a glimpse of him or touch his dress. +He is venerated there almost as a saint; and that +means a good deal among the Romagnols, who +generally hate everything that wears a cassock. I +remarked to one of the old peasants,--as typical +a smuggler as ever I saw in my life,--that the +people seemed very much devoted to their bishop, +and he said: 'We don't love bishops, they are +liars; we love Monsignor Montanelli. Nobody has +ever known him to tell a lie or do an unjust thing.'" + +"I wonder," Gemma said, half to herself, "if he +knows the people think that about him." + +"Why shouldn't he know it? Do you think it +is not true?" + +"I know it is not true." + +"How do you know it?" + +"Because he told me so." + +"HE told you? Montanelli? Gemma, what do you mean?" + +She pushed the hair back from her forehead and +turned towards him. They were standing still +again, he leaning on the balustrade and she slowly +drawing lines on the pavement with the point of +her umbrella. + +"Cesare, you and I have been friends for all +these years, and I have never told you what really +happened about Arthur." + +"There is no need to tell me, dear," he broke +in hastily; "I know all about it already." + +"Giovanni told you?" + +"Yes, when he was dying. He told me about +it one night when I was sitting up with him. He +said---- Gemma, dear, I had better tell you the +truth, now we have begun talking about it--he +said that you were always brooding over that +wretched story, and he begged me to be as good +a friend to you as I could and try to keep you +from thinking of it. And I have tried to, dear, +though I may not have succeeded--I have, +indeed." + +"I know you have," she answered softly, raising +her eyes for a moment; "I should have been +badly off without your friendship. But--Giovanni +did not tell you about Monsignor Montanelli, then?" + +"No, I didn't know that he had anything to +do with it. What he told me was about--all that +affair with the spy, and about----" + +"About my striking Arthur and his drowning +himself. Well, I will tell you about Montanelli." + +They turned back towards the bridge over which +the Cardinal's carriage would have to pass. +Gemma looked out steadily across the water as +she spoke. + +"In those days Montanelli was a canon; he was +Director of the Theological Seminary at Pisa, and +used to give Arthur lessons in philosophy and read +with him after he went up to the Sapienza. They +were perfectly devoted to each other; more like +two lovers than teacher and pupil. Arthur almost +worshipped the ground that Montanelli walked on, +and I remember his once telling me that if he lost +his 'Padre'--he always used to call Montanelli so +--he should go and drown himself. Well, then +you know what happened about the spy. The +next day, my father and the Burtons--Arthur's +step-brothers, most detestable people--spent the +whole day dragging the Darsena basin for the +body; and I sat in my room alone and thought of +what I had done----" + +She paused a moment, and went on again: + +"Late in the evening my father came into my +room and said: 'Gemma, child, come downstairs; +there's a man I want you to see.' And when we +went down there was one of the students belonging +to the group sitting in the consulting room, +all white and shaking; and he told us about Giovanni's +second letter coming from the prison to +say that they had heard from the jailer about +Cardi, and that Arthur had been tricked in the +confessional. I remember the student saying to +me: 'It is at least some consolation that we know +he was innocent' My father held my hands and +tried to comfort me; he did not know then about +the blow. Then I went back to my room and +sat there all night alone. In the morning my +father went out again with the Burtons to see the +harbour dragged. They had some hope of finding +the body there." + +"It was never found, was it?" + +"No; it must have got washed out to sea; but +they thought there was a chance. I was alone in +my room and the servant came up to say that a +'reverendissimo padre' had called and she had +told him my father was at the docks and he had +gone away. I knew it must be Montanelli; so I +ran out at the back door and caught him up at +the garden gate. When I said: 'Canon Montanelli, +I want to speak to you,' he just stopped and +waited silently for me to speak. Oh, Cesare, if +you had seen his face--it haunted me for months +afterwards! I said: 'I am Dr. Warren's daughter, +and I have come to tell you that it is I who have +killed Arthur.' I told him everything, and he +stood and listened, like a figure cut in stone, till +I had finished; then he said: 'Set your heart at +rest, my child; it is I that am a murderer, not you. +I deceived him and he found it out.' And with +that he turned and went out at the gate without +another word." + +"And then?" + +"I don't know what happened to him after that; +I heard the same evening that he had fallen down +in the street in a kind of fit and had been carried +into a house near the docks; but that is all +I know. My father did everything he could for +me; when I told him about it he threw up +his practice and took me away to England at +once, so that I should never hear anything that +could remind me. He was afraid I should end in +the water, too; and indeed I believe I was near it +at one time. But then, you know, when we found +out that my father had cancer I was obliged to +come to myself--there was no one else to nurse +him. And after he died I was left with the little +ones on my hands until my elder brother was able +to give them a home. Then there was Giovanni. +Do you know, when he came to England we were +almost afraid to meet each other with that frightful +memory between us. He was so bitterly +remorseful for his share in it all--that unhappy +letter he wrote from prison. But I believe, +really, it was our common trouble that drew us +together." + +Martini smiled and shook his head. + +"It may have been so on your side," he said; +"but Giovanni had made up his mind from the +first time he ever saw you. I remember his coming +back to Milan after that first visit to Leghorn +and raving about you to me till I was perfectly +sick of hearing of the English Gemma. I thought +I should hate you. Ah! there it comes!" + +The carriage crossed the bridge and drove up to +a large house on the Lung'Arno. Montanelli was +leaning back on the cushions as if too tired to +care any longer for the enthusiastic crowd which +had collected round the door to catch a glimpse of +him. The inspired look that his face had worn +in the Cathedral had faded quite away and the +sunlight showed the lines of care and fatigue. +When he had alighted and passed, with the heavy, +spiritless tread of weary and heart-sick old age, +into the house, Gemma turned away and walked +slowly to the bridge. Her face seemed for a moment +to reflect the withered, hopeless look of his. +Martini walked beside her in silence. + +"I have so often wondered," she began again +after a little pause; "what he meant about the +deception. It has sometimes occurred to me----" + +"Yes?" + +"Well, it is very strange; there was the +most extraordinary personal resemblance between +them." + +"Between whom?" + +"Arthur and Montanelli. It was not only I +who noticed it. And there was something mysterious +in the relationship between the members +of that household. Mrs. Burton, Arthur's mother, +was one of the sweetest women I ever knew. Her +face had the same spiritual look as Arthur's, and +I believe they were alike in character, too. But +she always seemed half frightened, like a detected +criminal; and her step-son's wife used to treat +her as no decent person treats a dog. And then +Arthur himself was such a startling contrast to +all those vulgar Burtons. Of course, when one +is a child one takes everything for granted; but +looking back on it afterwards I have often wondered +whether Arthur was really a Burton." + +"Possibly he found out something about his +mother--that may easily have been the cause of +his death, not the Cardi affair at all," Martini +interposed, offering the only consolation he could +think of at the moment. Gemma shook her +head. + +"If you could have seen his face after I struck +him, Cesare, you would not think that. It may +be all true about Montanelli--very likely it is-- +but what I have done I have done." + +They walked on a little way without speaking, + +"My dear," Martini said at last; "if there were +any way on earth to undo a thing that is once +done, it would be worth while to brood over our +old mistakes; but as it is, let the dead bury their +dead. It is a terrible story, but at least the +poor lad is out of it now, and luckier than some +of those that are left--the ones that are in exile +and in prison. You and I have them to think of, +we have no right to eat out our hearts for the +dead. Remember what your own Shelley says: +'The past is Death's, the future is thine own.' +Take it, while it is still yours, and fix your mind, +not on what you may have done long ago to hurt, +but on what you can do now to help." + +In his earnestness he had taken her hand. He +dropped it suddenly and drew back at the sound +of a soft, cold, drawling voice behind him. + +"Monsignor Montan-n-nelli," murmured this +languid voice, "is undoubtedly all you say, my +dear doctor. In fact, he appears to be so much +too good for this world that he ought to be politely +escorted into the next. I am sure he would +cause as great a sensation there as he has done +here; there are p-p-probably many old-established +ghosts who have never seen such a thing as an +honest cardinal. And there is nothing that ghosts +love as they do novelties----" + +"How do you know that?" asked Dr. Riccardo's +voice in a tone of ill-suppressed irritation. + +"From Holy Writ, my dear sir. If the Gospel +is to be trusted, even the most respectable of all +Ghosts had a f-f-fancy for capricious alliances. +Now, honesty and c-c-cardinals--that seems to +me a somewhat capricious alliance, and rather an +uncomfortable one, like shrimps and liquorice. +Ah, Signor Martini, and Signora Bolla! Lovely +weather after the rain, is it not? Have you been +to hear the n-new Savonarola, too?" + +Martini turned round sharply. The Gadfly, +with a cigar in his mouth and a hot-house flower +in his buttonhole, was holding out to him a slender, +carefully-gloved hand. With the sunlight reflected +in his immaculate boots and glancing back +from the water on to his smiling face, he looked +to Martini less lame and more conceited than +usual. They were shaking hands, affably on the +one side and rather sulkily on the other, when +Riccardo hastily exclaimed: + +"I am afraid Signora Bolla is not well!" + +She was so pale that her face looked almost livid +under the shadow of her bonnet, and the ribbon +at her throat fluttered perceptibly from the violent +beating of the heart. + +"I will go home," she said faintly. + +A cab was called and Martini got in with her +to see her safely home. As the Gadfly bent down +to arrange her cloak, which was hanging over the +wheel, he raised his eyes suddenly to her face, and +Martini saw that she shrank away with a look of +something like terror. + +"Gemma, what is the matter with you?" he +asked, in English, when they had started. "What +did that scoundrel say to you?" + +"Nothing, Cesare; it was no fault of his. I-- +I--had a fright----" + +"A fright?" + +"Yes; I fancied----" She put one hand over +her eyes, and he waited silently till she should +recover her self-command. Her face was already +regaining its natural colour. + +"You are quite right," she said at last, turning +to him and speaking in her usual voice; "it is +worse than useless to look back at a horrible past. +It plays tricks with one's nerves and makes one +imagine all sorts of impossible things. We will +NEVER talk about that subject again, Cesare, or I +shall see fantastic likenesses to Arthur in every +face I meet. It is a kind of hallucination, like +a nightmare in broad daylight. Just now, when +that odious little fop came up, I fancied it was +Arthur." + + + +CHAPTER V. + +THE Gadfly certainly knew how to make personal +enemies. He had arrived in Florence in +August, and by the end of October three-fourths +of the committee which had invited him shared +Martini's opinion. His savage attacks upon Montanelli +had annoyed even his admirers; and Galli +himself, who at first had been inclined to uphold +everything the witty satirist said or did, began to +acknowledge with an aggrieved air that Montanelli +had better have been left in peace. "Decent +cardinals are none so plenty. One might treat +them politely when they do turn up." + +The only person who, apparently, remained +quite indifferent to the storm of caricatures and +pasquinades was Montanelli himself. It seemed, +as Martini said, hardly worth while to expend +one's energy in ridiculing a man who took it so +good-humouredly. It was said in the town that +Montanelli, one day when the Archbishop of Florence +was dining with him, had found in the room +one of the Gadfly's bitter personal lampoons +against himself, had read it through and handed +the paper to the Archbishop, remarking: "That +is rather cleverly put, is it not?" + +One day there appeared in the town a leaflet, +headed: "The Mystery of the Annunciation." +Even had the author omitted his now familiar +signature, a sketch of a gadfly with spread wings, +the bitter, trenchant style would have left in the +minds of most readers no doubt as to his identity. +The skit was in the form of a dialogue between +Tuscany as the Virgin Mary, and Montanelli as the +angel who, bearing the lilies of purity and crowned +with the olive branch of peace, was announcing +the advent of the Jesuits. The whole thing was +full of offensive personal allusions and hints of the +most risky nature, and all Florence felt the satire +to be both ungenerous and unfair. And yet all +Florence laughed. There was something so irresistible +in the Gadfly's grave absurdities that those +who most disapproved of and disliked him laughed +as immoderately at all his squibs as did his warmest +partisans. Repulsive in tone as the leaflet was, +it left its trace upon the popular feeling of the +town. Montanelli's personal reputation stood too +high for any lampoon, however witty, seriously to +injure it, but for a moment the tide almost turned +against him. The Gadfly had known where to +sting; and, though eager crowds still collected +before the Cardinal's house to see him enter or +leave his carriage, ominous cries of "Jesuit!" and +"Sanfedist spy!" often mingled with the cheers +and benedictions. + +But Montanelli had no lack of supporters. Two +days after the publication of the skit, the Churchman, +a leading clerical paper, brought out a +brilliant article, called: "An Answer to 'The +Mystery of the Annunciation,'" and signed: "A +Son of the Church." It was an impassioned defence +of Montanelli against the Gadfly's slanderous +imputations. The anonymous writer, after +expounding, with great eloquence and fervour, the +doctrine of peace on earth and good will towards +men, of which the new Pontiff was the evangelist, +concluded by challenging the Gadfly to prove a +single one of his assertions, and solemnly appealing +to the public not to believe a contemptible +slanderer. Both the cogency of the article as a +bit of special pleading and its merit as a literary +composition were sufficiently far above the average +to attract much attention in the town, especially +as not even the editor of the newspaper could +guess the author's identity. The article was soon +reprinted separately in pamphlet form; and the +"anonymous defender" was discussed in every +coffee-shop in Florence. + +The Gadfly responded with a violent attack on +the new Pontificate and all its supporters, especially +on Montanelli, who, he cautiously hinted, had +probably consented to the panegyric on himself. +To this the anonymous defender again replied in +the Churchman with an indignant denial. During +the rest of Montanelli's stay the controversy raging +between the two writers occupied more of the +public attention than did even the famous preacher +himself. + +Some members of the liberal party ventured to +remonstrate with the Gadfly about the unnecessary +malice of his tone towards Montanelli; but +they did not get much satisfaction out of him. +He only smiled affably and answered with a languid +little stammer: "R-really, gentlemen, you are +rather unfair. I expressly stipulated, when I gave +in to Signora Bolla, that I should be allowed a +l-l-little chuckle all to myself now. It is so nominated +in the bond!" + +At the end of October Montanelli returned to +his see in the Romagna, and, before leaving Florence, +preached a farewell sermon in which he spoke +of the controversy, gently deprecating the vehemence +of both writers and begging his unknown +defender to set an example of tolerance by closing +a useless and unseemly war of words. On the +following day the Churchman contained a notice +that, at Monsignor Montanelli's publicly expressed +desire, "A Son of the Church" would withdraw +from the controversy. + +The last word remained with the Gadfly. He +issued a little leaflet, in which he declared himself +disarmed and converted by Montanelli's Christian +meekness and ready to weep tears of reconciliation +upon the neck of the first Sanfedist he met. "I +am even willing," he concluded; "to embrace my +anonymous challenger himself; and if my readers +knew, as his Eminence and I know, what that +implies and why he remains anonymous, they +would believe in the sincerity of my conversion." + +In the latter part of November he announced to +the literary committee that he was going for a +fortnight's holiday to the seaside. He went, apparently, +to Leghorn; but Dr. Riccardo, going +there soon after and wishing to speak to him, +searched the town for him in vain. On the 5th of +December a political demonstration of the most +extreme character burst out in the States of the +Church, along the whole chain of the Apennines; +and people began to guess the reason of the Gadfly's +sudden fancy to take his holidays in the depth +of winter. He came back to Florence when the +riots had been quelled, and, meeting Riccardo in +the street, remarked affably: + +"I hear you were inquiring for me in Leghorn; +I was staying in Pisa. What a pretty old town +it is! There's something quite Arcadian about it." + +In Christmas week he attended an afternoon +meeting of the literary committee which was held +in Dr. Riccardo's lodgings near the Porta alla +Croce. The meeting was a full one, and when he +came in, a little late, with an apologetic bow and +smile, there seemed to be no seat empty. Riccardo +rose to fetch a chair from the next room, +but the Gadfly stopped him. "Don't trouble +about it," he said; "I shall be quite comfortable +here"; and crossing the room to a window beside +which Gemma had placed her chair, he sat down +on the sill, leaning his head indolently back +against the shutter. + +As he looked down at Gemma, smiling with +half-shut eyes, in the subtle, sphinx-like way that +gave him the look of a Leonardo da Vinci portrait, +the instinctive distrust with which he inspired her +deepened into a sense of unreasoning fear. + +The proposal under discussion was that a pamphlet +be issued setting forth the committee's views +on the dearth with which Tuscany was threatened +and the measures which should be taken to meet +it. The matter was a somewhat difficult one to +decide, because, as usual, the committee's views +upon the subject were much divided. The more +advanced section, to which Gemma, Martini, and +Riccardo belonged, was in favour of an energetic +appeal to both government and public to take adequate +measures at once for the relief of the peasantry. +The moderate division--including, of +course, Grassini--feared that an over-emphatic +tone might irritate rather than convince the +ministry. + +"It is all very well, gentlemen, to want the +people helped at once," he said, looking round +upon the red-hot radicals with his calm and pitying +air. "We most of us want a good many things +that we are not likely to get; but if we start with +the tone you propose to adopt, the government +is very likely not to begin any relief measures +at all till there is actual famine. If we could +only induce the ministry to make an inquiry +into the state of the crops it would be a step in +advance." + +Galli, in his corner by the stove, jumped up to +answer his enemy. + +"A step in advance--yes, my dear sir; but if +there's going to be a famine, it won't wait for us +to advance at that pace. The people might all +starve before we got to any actual relief." + +"It would be interesting to know----" Sacconi +began; but several voices interrupted him. + +"Speak up; we can't hear!" + +"I should think not, with such an infernal row +in the street," said Galli, irritably. "Is that window +shut, Riccardo? One can't hear one's self speak!" + +Gemma looked round. "Yes," she said, "the +window is quite shut. I think there is a variety +show, or some such thing, passing." + +The sounds of shouting and laughter, of the +tinkling of bells and trampling of feet, resounded +from the street below, mixed with the braying of +a villainous brass band and the unmerciful banging +of a drum. + +"It can't be helped these few days," said Riccardo; +"we must expect noise at Christmas time. What were you +saying, Sacconi?" + +"I said it would be interesting to hear what is +thought about the matter in Pisa and Leghorn. +Perhaps Signor Rivarez can tell us something; he +has just come from there." + +The Gadfly did not answer. He was staring out +of the window and appeared not to have heard +what had been said. + +"Signor Rivarez!" said Gemma. She was the +only person sitting near to him, and as he remained +silent she bent forward and touched him on the +arm. He slowly turned his face to her, and she +started as she saw its fixed and awful immobility. +For a moment it was like the face of a corpse; then +the lips moved in a strange, lifeless way. + +"Yes," he whispered; "a variety show." + +Her first instinct was to shield him from the +curiosity of the others. Without understanding +what was the matter with him, she realized that +some frightful fancy or hallucination had seized +upon him, and that, for the moment, he was at +its mercy, body and soul. She rose quickly and, +standing between him and the company, threw +the window open as if to look out. No one but +herself had seen his face. + +In the street a travelling circus was passing, +with mountebanks on donkeys and harlequins in +parti-coloured dresses. The crowd of holiday +masqueraders, laughing and shoving, was exchanging +jests and showers of paper ribbon with the +clowns and flinging little bags of sugar-plums to +the columbine, who sat in her car, tricked out in +tinsel and feathers, with artificial curls on her +forehead and an artificial smile on her painted lips. +Behind the car came a motley string of figures-- +street Arabs, beggars, clowns turning somersaults, +and costermongers hawking their wares. They +were jostling, pelting, and applauding a figure +which at first Gemma could not see for the pushing +and swaying of the crowd. The next moment, +however, she saw plainly what it was--a +hunchback, dwarfish and ugly, grotesquely attired +in a fool's dress, with paper cap and bells. He +evidently belonged to the strolling company, and +was amusing the crowd with hideous grimaces and +contortions. + +"What is going on out there?" asked Riccardo, +approaching the window. "You seem very much +interested." + +He was a little surprised at their keeping the +whole committee waiting to look at a strolling +company of mountebanks. Gemma turned round. + +"It is nothing interesting," she said; "only a +variety show; but they made such a noise that I +thought it must be something else." + +She was standing with one hand upon the +window-sill, and suddenly felt the Gadfly's cold +fingers press the hand with a passionate clasp. +"Thank you!" he whispered softly; and then, +closing the window, sat down again upon the sill. + +"I'm afraid," he said in his airy manner, "that +I have interrupted you, gentlemen. I was l-looking +at the variety show; it is s-such a p-pretty sight." + +"Sacconi was asking you a question," said Martini +gruffly. The Gadfly's behaviour seemed to +him an absurd piece of affectation, and he was +annoyed that Gemma should have been tactless +enough to follow his example. It was not like her. + +The Gadfly disclaimed all knowledge of the state +of feeling in Pisa, explaining that he had been +there "only on a holiday." He then plunged at +once into an animated discussion, first of agricultural +prospects, then of the pamphlet question; +and continued pouring out a flood of stammering +talk till the others were quite tired. He seemed +to find some feverish delight in the sound of his +own voice. + +When the meeting ended and the members of +the committee rose to go, Riccardo came up to +Martini. + +"Will you stop to dinner with me? Fabrizi +and Sacconi have promised to stay." + +"Thanks; but I was going to see Signora Bolla +home." + +"Are you really afraid I can't get home by +myself?" she asked, rising and putting on her +wrap. "Of course he will stay with you, Dr. Riccardo; +it's good for him to get a change. He doesn't go out +half enough." + +"If you will allow me, I will see you home," the +Gadfly interposed; "I am going in that direction." + +"If you really are going that way----" + +"I suppose you won't have time to drop in here +in the course of the evening, will you, Rivarez?" +asked Riccardo, as he opened the door for them. + +The Gadfly looked back over his shoulder, +laughing. "I, my dear fellow? I'm going to see +the variety show!" + +"What a strange creature that is; and what an +odd affection for mountebanks!" said Riccardo, +coming back to his visitors. + +"Case of a fellow-feeling, I should think," said +Martini; "the man's a mountebank himself, if ever +I saw one." + +"I wish I could think he was only that," Fabrizi +interposed, with a grave face. "If he is a mountebank +I am afraid he's a very dangerous one." + +"Dangerous in what way?" + +"Well, I don't like those mysterious little pleasure +trips that he is so fond of taking. This is the +third time, you know; and I don't believe he has +been in Pisa at all." + +"I suppose it is almost an open secret that it's +into the mountains he goes," said Sacconi. "He +has hardly taken the trouble to deny that he is +still in relations with the smugglers he got to +know in the Savigno affair, and it's quite natural +he should take advantage of their friendship to +get his leaflets across the Papal frontier." + +"For my part," said Riccardo; "what I wanted +to talk to you about is this very question. It +occurred to me that we could hardly do better than +ask Rivarez to undertake the management of our +own smuggling. That press at Pistoja is very +inefficiently managed, to my thinking; and the +way the leaflets are taken across, always rolled in +those everlasting cigars, is more than primitive." + +"It has answered pretty well up till now," said +Martini contumaciously. He was getting wearied +of hearing Galli and Riccardo always put the Gadfly +forward as a model to copy, and inclined to +think that the world had gone well enough before +this "lackadaisical buccaneer" turned up to set +everyone to rights. + +"It has answered so far well that we have been +satisfied with it for want of anything better; +but you know there have been plenty of arrests and +confiscations. Now I believe that if Rivarez undertook +the business for us, there would be less of that." + +"Why do you think so?" + +"In the first place, the smugglers look upon +us as strangers to do business with, or as sheep to +fleece, whereas Rivarez is their personal friend, +very likely their leader, whom they look up to and +trust. You may be sure every smuggler in the +Apennines will do for a man who was in the Savigno +revolt what he will not do for us. In the +next place, there's hardly a man among us that +knows the mountains as Rivarez does. Remember, +he has been a fugitive among them, and knows +the smugglers' paths by heart. No smuggler +would dare to cheat him, even if he wished to, and +no smuggler could cheat him if he dared to try." + +"Then is your proposal that we should ask him +to take over the whole management of our literature +on the other side of the frontier--distribution, +addresses, hiding-places, everything--or simply +that we should ask him to put the things across +for us?" + +"Well, as for addresses and hiding-places, he +probably knows already all the ones that we have +and a good many more that we have not. I don't +suppose we should be able to teach him much in +that line. As for distribution, it's as the others +prefer, of course. The important question, to my +mind, is the actual smuggling itself. Once the +books are safe in Bologna, it's a comparatively +simple matter to circulate them." + +"For my part," said Martini, "I am against the +plan. In the first place, all this about his skilfulness +is mere conjecture; we have not actually seen +him engaged in frontier work and do not know +whether he keeps his head in critical moments." + +"Oh, you needn't have any doubt of that!" +Riccardo put in. "The history of the Savigno +affair proves that he keeps his head." + +"And then," Martini went on; "I do not feel +at all inclined, from what little I know of Rivarez, +to intrust him with all the party's secrets. He +seems to me feather-brained and theatrical. To +give the whole management of a party's contraband +work into a man's hands is a serious matter. +Fabrizi, what do you think?" + +"If I had only such objections as yours, Martini," +replied the professor, "I should certainly +waive them in the case of a man really possessing, +as Rivarez undoubtedly does, all the qualifications +Riccardo speaks of. For my part, I have not the +slightest doubt as to either his courage, his honesty, +or his presence of mind; and that he knows +both mountains and mountaineers we have had +ample proof. But there is another objection. I +do not feel sure that it is only for the smuggling +of pamphlets he goes into the mountains. I have +begun to doubt whether he has not another purpose. +This is, of course, entirely between ourselves. +It is a mere suspicion. It seems to me +just possible that he is in connexion with some +one of the 'sects,' and perhaps with the most dangerous +of them." + +"Which one do you mean--the 'Red Girdles'?" + +"No; the 'Occoltellatori.'" + +"The 'Knifers'! But that is a little body of +outlaws--peasants, most of them, with neither +education nor political experience." + +"So were the insurgents of Savigno; but they +had a few educated men as leaders, and this little +society may have the same. And remember, it's +pretty well known that most of the members of +those more violent sects in the Romagna are survivors +of the Savigno affair, who found themselves +too weak to fight the Churchmen in open insurrection, +and so have fallen back on assassination. +Their hands are not strong enough for guns, and +they take to knives instead." + +"But what makes you suppose Rivarez to be +connected with them?" + +"I don't suppose, I merely suspect. In any +case, I think we had better find out for certain +before we intrust our smuggling to him. If he +attempted to do both kinds of work at once he +would injure our party most terribly; he would +simply destroy its reputation and accomplish +nothing. However, we will talk of that another +time. I wanted to speak to you about the news +from Rome. It is said that a commission is to +be appointed to draw up a project for a municipal +constitution." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +GEMMA and the Gadfly walked silently along +the Lung'Arno. His feverish talkativeness seemed +to have quite spent itself; he had hardly spoken +a word since they left Riccardo's door, and +Gemma was heartily glad of his silence. She +always felt embarrassed in his company, and to-day +more so than usual, for his strange behaviour +at the committee meeting had greatly perplexed +her. + +By the Uffizi palace he suddenly stopped and +turned to her. + +"Are you tired?" + +"No; why?" + +"Nor especially busy this evening?" + +"No." + +"I want to ask a favour of you; I want you to +come for a walk with me." + +"Where to?" + +"Nowhere in particular; anywhere you like." + +"But what for?" + +He hesitated. + +"I--can't tell you--at least, it's very difficult; +but please come if you can." + +He raised his eyes suddenly from the ground, +and she saw how strange their expression was. + +"There is something the matter with you," she +said gently. He pulled a leaf from the flower in +his button-hole, and began tearing it to pieces. +Who was it that he was so oddly like? Someone +who had that same trick of the fingers and hurried, +nervous gesture. + +"I am in trouble," he said, looking down at his +hands and speaking in a hardly audible voice. "I +--don't want to be alone this evening. Will you +come?" + +"Yes, certainly, unless you would rather go to +my lodgings." + +"No; come and dine with me at a restaurant. +There's one on the Signoria. Please don't refuse, +now; you've promised!" + +They went into a restaurant, where he ordered +dinner, but hardly touched his own share, and +remained obstinately silent, crumbling the bread +over the cloth, and fidgeting with the fringe of +his table napkin. Gemma felt thoroughly uncomfortable, +and began to wish she had refused to +come; the silence was growing awkward; yet she +could not begin to make small-talk with a person +who seemed to have forgotten her presence. At +last he looked up and said abruptly: + +"Would you like to see the variety show?" + +She stared at him in astonishment. What had +he got into his head about variety shows? + +"Have you ever seen one?" he asked before she +had time to speak. + +"No; I don't think so. I didn't suppose they +were interesting." + +"They are very interesting. I don't think anyone +can study the life of the people without seeing +them. Let us go back to the Porta alla Croce." + +When they arrived the mountebanks had set up +their tent beside the town gate, and an abominable +scraping of fiddles and banging of drums +announced that the performance had begun. + +The entertainment was of the roughest kind. +A few clowns, harlequins, and acrobats, a circus-rider +jumping through hoops, the painted columbine, +and the hunchback performing various dull +and foolish antics, represented the entire force of +the company. The jokes were not, on the whole, +coarse or offensive; but they were very tame and +stale, and there was a depressing flatness about +the whole thing. The audience laughed and +clapped from their innate Tuscan courtesy; but +the only part which they seemed really to enjoy +was the performance of the hunchback, in which +Gemma could find nothing either witty or skilful. +It was merely a series of grotesque and hideous +contortions, which the spectators mimicked, holding +up children on their shoulders that the little +ones might see the "ugly man." + +"Signor Rivarez, do you really think this +attractive?" said Gemma, turning to the Gadfly, +who was standing beside her, his arm round one +of the wooden posts of the tent. "It seems to +me----" + +She broke off and remained looking at him +silently. Except when she had stood with Montanelli +at the garden gate in Leghorn, she had +never seen a human face express such fathomless, +hopeless misery. She thought of Dante's hell as +she watched him. + +Presently the hunchback, receiving a kick from +one of the clowns, turned a somersault and tumbled +in a grotesque heap outside the ring. A dialogue +between two clowns began, and the Gadfly +seemed to wake out of a dream. + +"Shall we go?" he asked; "or would you like +to see more?" + +"I would rather go." + +They left the tent, and walked across the dark +green to the river. For a few moments neither +spoke. + +"What did you think of the show?" the Gadfly +asked presently. + +"I thought it rather a dreary business; and +part of it seemed to me positively unpleasant." + +"Which part?" + +"Well, all those grimaces and contortions. +They are simply ugly; there is nothing clever +about them." + +"Do you mean the hunchback's performance?" + +Remembering his peculiar sensitiveness on the +subject of his own physical defects, she had +avoided mentioning this particular bit of the +entertainment; but now that he had touched upon +the subject himself, she answered: "Yes; I did +not like that part at all." + +"That was the part the people enjoyed most." + +"I dare say; and that is just the worst thing +about it." + +"Because it was inartistic?" + +"N-no; it was all inartistic. I meant--because +it was cruel." + +He smiled. + +"Cruel? Do you mean to the hunchback?" + +"I mean---- Of course the man himself was +quite indifferent; no doubt, it is to him just a way +of getting a living, like the circus-rider's way or +the columbine's. But the thing makes one feel +unhappy. It is humiliating; it is the degradation +of a human being." + +"He probably is not any more degraded than +he was to start with. Most of us are degraded in +one way or another." + +"Yes; but this--I dare say you will think it +an absurd prejudice; but a human body, to me, is +a sacred thing; I don't like to see it treated +irreverently and made hideous." + +"And a human soul?" + +He had stopped short, and was standing with +one hand on the stone balustrade of the embankment, +looking straight at her. + +"A soul?" she repeated, stopping in her turn +to look at him in wonder. + +He flung out both hands with a sudden, passionate gesture. + +"Has it never occurred to you that that miserable +clown may have a soul--a living, struggling, +human soul, tied down into that crooked hulk of +a body and forced to slave for it? You that are so +tender-hearted to everything--you that pity the +body in its fool's dress and bells--have you never +thought of the wretched soul that has not even +motley to cover its horrible nakedness? Think +of it shivering with cold, stilled with shame and +misery, before all those people--feeling their jeers +that cut like a whip--their laughter, that burns +like red-hot iron on the bare flesh! Think of it +looking round--so helpless before them all--for +the mountains that will not fall on it--for the rocks +that have not the heart to cover it--envying the +rats that can creep into some hole in the earth +and hide; and remember that a soul is dumb--it +has no voice to cry out--it must endure, and endure, +and endure. Oh! I'm talking nonsense! +Why on earth don't you laugh? You have no +sense of humour!" + +Slowly and in dead silence she turned and +walked on along the river side. During the whole +evening it had not once occurred to her to connect +his trouble, whatever it might be, with the +variety show; and now that some dim picture of +his inner life had been revealed to her by this sudden +outburst, she could not find, in her overwhelming +pity for him, one word to say. He +walked on beside her, with his head turned away, +and looked into the water. + +"I want you, please, to understand," he began +suddenly, turning to her with a defiant air, "that +everything I have just been saying to you is pure +imagination. I'm rather given to romancing, but +I don't like people to take it seriously." + +She made no answer, and they walked on in +silence. As they passed by the gateway of the +Uffizi, he crossed the road and stooped down +over a dark bundle that was lying against the +railings. + +"What is the matter, little one?" he asked, +more gently than she had ever heard him speak. +"Why don't you go home?" + +The bundle moved, and answered something in +a low, moaning voice. Gemma came across to +look, and saw a child of about six years old, +ragged and dirty, crouching on the pavement like a +frightened animal. The Gadfly was bending down +with his hand on the unkempt head. + +"What is it?" he said, stooping lower to catch +the unintelligible answer. "You ought to go +home to bed; little boys have no business out of +doors at night; you'll be quite frozen! Give me +your hand and jump up like a man! Where do +you live?" + +He took the child's arm to raise him. The result +was a sharp scream and a quick shrinking away. + +"Why, what is it?" the Gadfly asked, kneeling +down on the pavement. "Ah! Signora, look +here!" + +The child's shoulder and jacket were covered +with blood. + +"Tell me what has happened?" the Gadfly +went on caressingly. "It wasn't a fall, was it? +No? Someone's been beating you? I thought +so! Who was it?" + +"My uncle." + +"Ah, yes! And when was it?" + +"This morning. He was drunk, and I--I----" + +"And you got in his way--was that it? You +shouldn't get in people's way when they are +drunk, little man; they don't like it. What shall +we do with this poor mite, signora? Come here +to the light, sonny, and let me look at that +shoulder. Put your arm round my neck; I won't +hurt you. There we are!" + +He lifted the boy in his arms, and, carrying him +across the street, set him down on the wide stone +balustrade. Then, taking out a pocket-knife, he +deftly ripped up the torn sleeve, supporting the +child's head against his breast, while Gemma held +the injured arm. The shoulder was badly bruised +and grazed, and there was a deep gash on the arm. + +"That's an ugly cut to give a mite like you," +said the Gadfly, fastening his handkerchief round +the wound to prevent the jacket from rubbing +against it. "What did he do it with?" + +"The shovel. I went to ask him to give me a +soldo to get some polenta at the corner shop, and +he hit me with the shovel." + +The Gadfly shuddered. "Ah!" he said softly, +"that hurts; doesn't it, little one?" + +"He hit me with the shovel--and I ran away-- +I ran away--because he hit me." + +"And you've been wandering about ever since, +without any dinner?" + +Instead of answering, the child began to sob +violently. The Gadfly lifted him off the balustrade. + +"There, there! We'll soon set all that straight. +I wonder if we can get a cab anywhere. I'm afraid +they'll all be waiting by the theatre; there's a +grand performance going on to-night. I am sorry +to drag you about so, signora; but----" + +"I would rather come with you. You may +want help. Do you think you can carry him so +far? Isn't he very heavy?" + +"Oh, I can manage, thank you." + +At the theatre door they found only a few cabs +waiting, and these were all engaged. The performance +was over, and most of the audience had +gone. Zita's name was printed in large letters on +the wall-placards; she had been dancing in the +ballet. Asking Gemma to wait for him a moment, +the Gadfly went round to the performers' entrance, +and spoke to an attendant. + +"Has Mme. Reni gone yet?" + +"No, sir," the man answered, staring blankly +at the spectacle of a well-dressed gentleman carrying +a ragged street child in his arms, "Mme. +Reni is just coming out, I think; her carriage is +waiting for her. Yes; there she comes." + +Zita descended the stairs, leaning on the arm of +a young cavalry officer. She looked superbly +handsome, with an opera cloak of flame-coloured +velvet thrown over her evening dress, and a great +fan of ostrich plumes hanging from her waist. In +the entry she stopped short, and, drawing her +hand away from the officer's arm, approached the +Gadfly in amazement. + +"Felice!" she exclaimed under her breath, +"what HAVE you got there?" + +"I have picked up this child in the street. It is +hurt and starving; and I want to get it home as +quickly as possible. There is not a cab to be got +anywhere, so I want to have your carriage." + +"Felice! you are not going to take a horrid +beggar-child into your rooms! Send for a policeman, +and let him carry it to the Refuge or whatever +is the proper place for it. You can't have all +the paupers in the town----" + +"It is hurt," the Gadfly repeated; "it can go +to the Refuge to-morrow, if necessary, but I must +see to the child first and give it some food." + +Zita made a little grimace of disgust. "You've +got its head right against your shirt! How CAN +you? It is dirty!" + +The Gadfly looked up with a sudden flash of anger. + +"It is hungry," he said fiercely. "You don't +know what that means, do you?" + +"Signer Rivarez," interposed Gemma, coming +forward, "my lodgings are quite close. Let us +take the child in there. Then, if you cannot find +a vettura, I will manage to put it up for the +night." + +He turned round quickly. "You don't mind?" + +"Of course not. Good-night, Mme. Reni!" + +The gipsy, with a stiff bow and an angry shrug +of her shoulders, took her officer's arm again, and, +gathering up the train of her dress, swept past +them to the contested carriage. + +"I will send it back to fetch you and the child, +if you like, M. Rivarez," she said, pausing on the +doorstep. + +"Very well; I will give the address." He came +out on to the pavement, gave the address to the +driver, and walked back to Gemma with his burden. + +Katie was waiting up for her mistress; and, on +hearing what had happened, ran for warm water +and other necessaries. Placing the child on a +chair, the Gadfly knelt down beside him, and, +deftly slipping off the ragged clothing, bathed +and bandaged the wound with tender, skilful +hands. He had just finished washing the boy, and +was wrapping him in a warm blanket, when +Gemma came in with a tray in her hands. + +"Is your patient ready for his supper?" she +asked, smiling at the strange little figure. "I +have been cooking it for him." + +The Gadfly stood up and rolled the dirty rags +together. "I'm afraid we have made a terrible +mess in your room," he said. "As for these, they +had better go straight into the fire, and I will buy +him some new clothes to-morrow. Have you any +brandy in the house, signora? I think he ought +to have a little. I will just wash my hands, if you +will allow me." + +When the child had finished his supper, he +immediately went to sleep in the Gadfly's arms, with +his rough head against the white shirt-front. +Gemma, who had been helping Katie to set the +disordered room tidy again, sat down at the table. + +"Signor Rivarez, you must take something +before you go home--you had hardly any dinner, +and it's very late." + +"I should like a cup of tea in the English fashion, +if you have it. I'm sorry to keep you up so late." + +"Oh! that doesn't matter. Put the child down +on the sofa; he will tire you. Wait a minute; I +will just lay a sheet over the cushions. What are +you going to do with him?" + +"To-morrow? Find out whether he has any +other relations except that drunken brute; and +if not, I suppose I must follow Mme. Reni's advice, +and take him to the Refuge. Perhaps the +kindest thing to do would be to put a stone round +his neck and pitch him into the river there; but +that would expose me to unpleasant consequences. +Fast asleep! What an odd little lump of ill-luck +you are, you mite--not half as capable of defending +yourself as a stray cat!" + +When Katie brought in the tea-tray, the boy +opened his eyes and sat up with a bewildered air. +Recognizing the Gadfly, whom he already regarded +as his natural protector, he wriggled off +the sofa, and, much encumbered by the folds of +his blanket, came up to nestle against him. He +was by now sufficiently revived to be inquisitive; +and, pointing to the mutilated left hand, in which +the Gadfly was holding a piece of cake, asked: + +"What's that?" + +"That? Cake; do you want some? I think +you've had enough for now. Wait till to-morrow, +little man." + +"No--that!" He stretched out his hand and +touched the stumps of the amputated fingers and +the great scar on the wrist. The Gadfly put down +his cake. + +"Oh, that! It's the same sort of thing as what +you have on your shoulder--a hit I got from +someone stronger than I was." + +"Didn't it hurt awfully?" + +"Oh, I don't know--not more than other +things. There, now, go to sleep again; you have +no business asking questions at this time of night." + +When the carriage arrived the boy was again +asleep; and the Gadfly, without awaking him, +lifted him gently and carried him out on to the +stairs. + +"You have been a sort of ministering angel to +me to-day," he said to Gemma, pausing at the +door. "But I suppose that need not prevent us +from quarrelling to our heart's content in future." + +"I have no desire to quarrel with anyone." + +"Ah! but I have. Life would be unendurable +without quarrels. A good quarrel is the salt of +the earth; it's better than a variety show!" + +And with that he went downstairs, laughing +softly to himself, with the sleeping child in his +arms. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +ONE day in the first week of January Martini, +who had sent round the forms of invitation to the +monthly group-meeting of the literary committee, +received from the Gadfly a laconic, pencil-scrawled +"Very sorry: can't come." He was a +little annoyed, as a notice of "important business" +had been put into the invitation; this cavalier +treatment seemed to him almost insolent. +Moreover, three separate letters containing bad +news arrived during the day, and the wind was in +the east, so that Martini felt out of sorts and out +of temper; and when, at the group meeting, Dr. +Riccardo asked, "Isn't Rivarez here?" he answered +rather sulkily: "No; he seems to have +got something more interesting on hand, and +can't come, or doesn't want to." + +"Really, Martini," said Galli irritably, "you +are about the most prejudiced person in Florence. +Once you object to a man, everything he does is +wrong. How could Rivarez come when he's ill?" + +"Who told you he was ill?" + +"Didn't you know? He's been laid up for the +last four days." + +"What's the matter with him?" + +"I don't know. He had to put off an appointment +with me on Thursday on account of illness; +and last night, when I went round, I heard that +he was too ill to see anyone. I thought Riccardo +would be looking after him." + +"I knew nothing about it. I'll go round to-night +and see if he wants anything." + +The next morning Riccardo, looking very pale +and tired, came into Gemma's little study. She +was sitting at the table, reading out monotonous +strings of figures to Martini, who, with a magnifying +glass in one hand and a finely pointed pencil +in the other, was making tiny marks in the pages +of a book. She made with one hand a gesture requesting +silence. Riccardo, knowing that a person who is writing +in cipher must not be interrupted, sat down on the sofa +behind her and yawned like a man who can hardly keep awake. + +"2, 4; 3, 7; 6, 1; 3, 5; 4> 1;" Gemma's voice +went on with machine-like evenness. "8, 4; 7, 2; +5, 1; that finishes the sentence, Cesare." + +She stuck a pin into the paper to mark the +exact place, and turned round. + +"Good-morning, doctor; how fagged you look! +Are you well?" + +"Oh, I'm well enough--only tired out. I've +had an awful night with Rivarez." + +"With Rivarez?" + +"Yes; I've been up with him all night, and now +I must go off to my hospital patients. I just +came round to know whether you can think of +anyone that could look after him a bit for the +next few days. He's in a devil of a state. I'll do +my best, of course; but I really haven't the time; +and he won't hear of my sending in a nurse." + +"What is the matter with him?" + +"Well, rather a complication of things. First +of all----" + +"First of all, have you had any breakfast?" + +"Yes, thank you. About Rivarez--no doubt, +it's complicated with a lot of nerve trouble; but +the main cause of disturbance is an old injury +that seems to have been disgracefully neglected. +Altogether, he's in a frightfully knocked-about +state; I suppose it was that war in South America +--and he certainly didn't get proper care when +the mischief was done. Probably things were +managed in a very rough-and-ready fashion out +there; he's lucky to be alive at all. However, +there's a chronic tendency to inflammation, and +any trifle may bring on an attack----" + +"Is that dangerous?" + +"N-no; the chief danger in a case of that kind +is of the patient getting desperate and taking a +dose of arsenic." + +"It is very painful, of course?" + +"It's simply horrible; I don't know how he +manages to bear it. I was obliged to stupefy him +with opium in the night--a thing I hate to do +with a nervous patient; but I had to stop it +somehow." + +"He is nervous, I should think." + +"Very, but splendidly plucky. As long as he +was not actually light-headed with the pain last +night, his coolness was quite wonderful. But I +had an awful job with him towards the end. How +long do you suppose this thing has been going +on? Just five nights; and not a soul within call +except that stupid landlady, who wouldn't wake +if the house tumbled down, and would be no use +if she did." + +"But what about the ballet-girl?" + +"Yes; isn't that a curious thing? He won't +let her come near him. He has a morbid horror of +her. Altogether, he's one of the most incomprehensible +creatures I ever met--a perfect mass of contradictions." + +He took out his watch and looked at it with a +preoccupied face. "I shall be late at the hospital; +but it can't be helped. The junior will have to +begin without me for once. I wish I had known +of all this before--it ought not to have been let +go on that way night after night." + +"But why on earth didn't he send to say he +was ill?" Martini interrupted. "He might have +guessed we shouldn't have left him stranded in +that fashion." + +"I wish, doctor," said Gemma, "that you had +sent for one of us last night, instead of wearing +yourself out like this." + +"My dear lady, I wanted to send round to +Galli; but Rivarez got so frantic at the suggestion +that I didn't dare attempt it. When I asked +him whether there was anyone else he would like +fetched, he looked at me for a minute, as if he +were scared out of his wits, and then put up both +hands to his eyes and said: 'Don't tell them; +they will laugh!' He seemed quite possessed +with some fancy about people laughing at something. +I couldn't make out what; he kept talking Spanish; +but patients do say the oddest things sometimes." + +"Who is with him now?" asked Gemma. + +"No one except the landlady and her maid." + +"I'll go to him at once," said Martini. + +"Thank you. I'll look round again in the +evening. You'll find a paper of written directions +in the table-drawer by the large window, and the +opium is on the shelf in the next room. If the +pain comes on again, give him another dose--not +more than one; but don't leave the bottle where +he can get at it, whatever you do; he might be +tempted to take too much." + +When Martini entered the darkened room, the +Gadfly turned his head round quickly, and, holding +out to him a burning hand, began, in a bad +imitation of his usual flippant manner: + +"Ah, Martini! You have come to rout me out +about those proofs. It's no use swearing at me +for missing the committee last night; the fact is, +I have not been quite well, and----" + +"Never mind the committee. I have just seen +Riccardo, and have come to know if I can be of +any use." + +The Gadfly set his face like a flint. + +"Oh, really! that is very kind of you; but it +wasn't worth the trouble. I'm only a little out +of sorts." + +"So I understood from Riccardo. He was up +with you all night, I believe." + +The Gadfly bit his lip savagely. + +"I am quite comfortable, thank you, and don't +want anything." + +"Very well; then I will sit in the other room; +perhaps you would rather be alone. I will leave +the door ajar, in case you call me." + +"Please don't trouble about it; I really shan't +want anything. I should be wasting your time for +nothing." + +"Nonsense, man!" Martini broke in roughly. +"What's the use of trying to fool me that way? +Do you think I have no eyes? Lie still and go to +sleep, if you can." + +He went into the adjoining room, and, leaving +the door open, sat down with a book. Presently +he heard the Gadfly move restlessly two or three +times. He put down his book and listened. +There was a short silence, then another restless +movement; then the quick, heavy, panting breath +of a man clenching his teeth to suppress a groan. +He went back into the room. + +"Can I do anything for you, Rivarez?" + +There was no answer, and he crossed the room +to the bed-side. The Gadfly, with a ghastly, livid +face, looked at him for a moment, and silently +shook his head. + +"Shall I give you some more opium? Riccardo +said you were to have it if the pain got very bad." + +"No, thank you; I can bear it a bit longer. +It may be worse later on." + +Martini shrugged his shoulders and sat down +beside the bed. For an interminable hour he +watched in silence; then he rose and fetched the +opium. + +"Rivarez, I won't let this go on any longer; if +you can stand it, I can't. You must have the stuff." + +The Gadfly took it without speaking. Then he +turned away and closed his eyes. Martini sat +down again, and listened as the breathing became +gradually deep and even. + +The Gadfly was too much exhausted to wake +easily when once asleep. Hour after hour he lay +absolutely motionless. Martini approached him +several times during the day and evening, and +looked at the still figure; but, except the breathing, +there was no sign of life. The face was so +wan and colourless that at last a sudden fear seized +upon him; what if he had given too much opium? +The injured left arm lay on the coverlet, and he +shook it gently to rouse the sleeper. As he did +so, the unfastened sleeve fell back, showing a +series of deep and fearful scars covering the arm +from wrist to elbow. + +"That arm must have been in a pleasant condition +when those marks were fresh," said Riccardo's voice +behind him. + +"Ah, there you are at last! Look here, +Riccardo; ought this man to sleep forever? I +gave him a dose about ten hours ago, and he +hasn't moved a muscle since." + +Riccardo stooped down and listened for a moment. + +"No; he is breathing quite properly; it's nothing +but sheer exhaustion--what you might expect +after such a night. There may be another +paroxysm before morning. Someone will sit up, +I hope?" + +"Galli will; he has sent to say he will be here +by ten." + +"It's nearly that now. Ah, he's waking! Just +see the maidservant gets that broth hot. Gently +--gently, Rivarez! There, there, you needn't +fight, man; I'm not a bishop!" + +The Gadfly started up with a shrinking, scared +look. "Is it my turn?" he said hurriedly in +Spanish. "Keep the people amused a minute; +I---- Ah! I didn't see you, Riccardo." + +He looked round the room and drew one hand +across his forehead as if bewildered. "Martini! +Why, I thought you had gone away. I must have +been asleep." + +"You have been sleeping like the beauty in the +fairy story for the last ten hours; and now you are +to have some broth and go to sleep again." + +"Ten hours! Martini, surely you haven't been +here all that time?" + +"Yes; I was beginning to wonder whether I +hadn't given you an overdose of opium." + +The Gadfly shot a sly glance at him. + +"No such luck! Wouldn't you have nice quiet +committee-meetings? What the devil do you +want, Riccardo? Do for mercy's sake leave me in +peace, can't you? I hate being mauled about by +doctors." + +"Well then, drink this and I'll leave you in +peace. I shall come round in a day or two, +though, and give you a thorough overhauling. I +think you have pulled through the worst of this +business now; you don't look quite so much like +a death's head at a feast." + +"Oh, I shall be all right soon, thanks. Who's +that--Galli? I seem to have a collection of all +the graces here to-night." + +"I have come to stop the night with you." + +"Nonsense! I don't want anyone. Go home, +all the lot of you. Even if the thing should come +on again, you can't help me; I won't keep taking +opium. It's all very well once in a way." + +"I'm afraid you're right," Riccardo said. +"But that's not always an easy resolution to stick +to." + +The Gadfly looked up, smiling. "No fear! +If I'd been going in for that sort of thing, I should +have done it long ago." + +"Anyway, you are not going to be left alone," +Riccardo answered drily. "Come into the other +room a minute, Galli; I want to speak to you. +Good-night, Rivarez; I'll look in to-morrow." + +Martini was following them out of the room +when he heard his name softly called. The Gadfly +was holding out a hand to him. + +"Thank you!" + +"Oh, stuff! Go to sleep." + +When Riccardo had gone, Martini remained a +few minutes in the outer room, talking with Galli. +As he opened the front door of the house he heard +a carriage stop at the garden gate and saw a +woman's figure get out and come up the path. It +was Zita, returning, evidently, from some evening +entertainment. He lifted his hat and stood aside +to let her pass, then went out into the dark lane +leading from the house to the Poggio Imperiale. +Presently the gate clicked and rapid footsteps +came down the lane. + +"Wait a minute!" she said. + +When he turned back to meet her she stopped +short, and then came slowly towards him, dragging +one hand after her along the hedge. There +was a single street-lamp at the corner, and he saw +by its light that she was hanging her head down +as though embarrassed or ashamed. + +"How is he?" she asked without looking up. + +"Much better than he was this morning. He +has been asleep most of the day and seems less +exhausted. I think the attack is passing over." + +She still kept her eyes on the ground. + +"Has it been very bad this time?" + +"About as bad as it can well be, I should +think." + +"I thought so. When he won't let me come +into the room, that always means it's bad." + +"Does he often have attacks like this?" + +"That depends---- It's so irregular. Last +summer, in Switzerland, he was quite well; but +the winter before, when we were in Vienna, it was +awful. He wouldn't let me come near him for +days together. He hates to have me about when +he's ill." + +She glanced up for a moment, and, dropping her +eyes again, went on: + +"He always used to send me off to a ball, or +concert, or something, on one pretext or another, +when he felt it coming on. Then he would lock +himself into his room. I used to slip back and sit +outside the door--he would have been furious if +he'd known. He'd let the dog come in if it +whined, but not me. He cares more for it, I +think." + +There was a curious, sullen defiance in her +manner. + +"Well, I hope it won't be so bad any more," +said Martini kindly. "Dr. Riccardo is taking the +case seriously in hand. Perhaps he will be able to +make a permanent improvement. And, in any +case, the treatment gives relief at the moment. +But you had better send to us at once, another +time. He would have suffered very much less if +we had known of it earlier. Good-night!" + +He held out his hand, but she drew back with +a quick gesture of refusal. + +"I don't see why you want to shake hands with +his mistress." + +"As you like, of course," he began in embarrassment. + +She stamped her foot on the ground. "I hate +you!" she cried, turning on him with eyes like +glowing coals. "I hate you all! You come here +talking politics to him; and he lets you sit up the +night with him and give him things to stop the +pain, and I daren't so much as peep at him through +the door! What is he to you? What right have +you to come and steal him away from me? I hate +you! I hate you! I HATE you!" + +She burst into a violent fit of sobbing, and, darting +back into the garden, slammed the gate in his face. + +"Good Heavens!" said Martini to himself, as he +walked down the lane. "That girl is actually +in love with him! Of all the extraordinary +things----" + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +THE Gadfly's recovery was rapid. One afternoon +in the following week Riccardo found him +lying on the sofa in a Turkish dressing-gown, +chatting with Martini and Galli. He even talked +about going downstairs; but Riccardo merely +laughed at the suggestion and asked whether he +would like a tramp across the valley to Fiesole to +start with. + +"You might go and call on the Grassinis for a +change," he added wickedly. "I'm sure madame +would be delighted to see you, especially now, +when you look so pale and interesting." + +The Gadfly clasped his hands with a tragic +gesture. + +"Bless my soul! I never thought of that! +She'd take me for one of Italy's martyrs, and talk +patriotism to me. I should have to act up to the +part, and tell her I've been cut to pieces in an +underground dungeon and stuck together again +rather badly; and she'd want to know exactly what +the process felt like. You don't think she'd believe +it, Riccardo? I'll bet you my Indian dagger +against the bottled tape-worm in your den that +she'll swallow the biggest lie I can invent. That's +a generous offer, and you'd better jump at it." + +"Thanks, I'm not so fond of murderous tools +as you are." + +"Well, a tape-worm is as murderous as a dagger, +any day, and not half so pretty." + +"But as it happens, my dear fellow, I don't +want the dagger and I do want the tape-worm. +Martini, I must run off. Are you in charge of this +obstreperous patient?" + +"Only till three o'clock. Galli and I have to go +to San Miniato, and Signora Bolla is coming till +I can get back." + +"Signora Bolla!" the Gadfly repeated in a tone +of dismay. "Why, Martini, this will never do! +I can't have a lady bothered over me and my ailments. +Besides, where is she to sit? She won't +like to come in here." + +"Since when have you gone in so fiercely for the +proprieties?" asked Riccardo, laughing. "My +good man, Signora Bolla is head nurse in general +to all of us. She has looked after sick people ever +since she was in short frocks, and does it better +than any sister of mercy I know. Won't like to +come into your room! Why, you might be talking +of the Grassini woman! I needn't leave any +directions if she's coming, Martini. Heart alive, +it's half-past two; I must be off!" + +"Now, Rivarez, take your physic before she +comes," said Galli, approaching the sofa with a +medicine glass. + +"Damn the physic!" The Gadfly had reached +the irritable stage of convalescence, and was +inclined to give his devoted nurses a bad time. +"W-what do you want to d-d-dose me with all +sorts of horrors for now the pain is gone?" + +"Just because I don't want it to come back. +You wouldn't like it if you collapsed when Signora +Bolla is here and she had to give you opium." + +"My g-good sir, if that pain is going to come +back it will come; it's not a t-toothache to be +frightened away with your trashy mixtures. They +are about as much use as a t-toy squirt for a house +on fire. However, I suppose you must have your +way." + +He took the glass with his left hand, and the +sight of the terrible scars recalled Galli to the +former subject of conversation. + +"By the way," he asked; "how did you get so +much knocked about? In the war, was it?" + +"Now, didn't I just tell you it was a case of +secret dungeons and----" + +"Yes, that version is for Signora Grassini's +benefit. Really, I suppose it was in the war with +Brazil?" + +"Yes, I got a bit hurt there; and then hunting +in the savage districts and one thing and another." + +"Ah, yes; on the scientific expedition. You +can fasten your shirt; I have quite done. You +seem to have had an exciting time of it out there." + +"Well, of course you can't live in savage countries +without getting a few adventures once in a +way," said the Gadfly lightly; "and you can +hardly expect them all to be pleasant." + +"Still, I don't understand how you managed to +get so much knocked about unless in a bad adventure +with wild beasts--those scars on your left +arm, for instance." + +"Ah, that was in a puma-hunt. You see, I had +fired----" + +There was a knock at the door. + +"Is the room tidy, Martini? Yes? Then please +open the door. This is really most kind, signora; +you must excuse my not getting up." + +"Of course you mustn't get up; I have not come +as a caller. I am a little early, Cesare. I thought +perhaps you were in a hurry to go." + +"I can stop for a quarter of an hour. Let me +put your cloak in the other room. Shall I take +the basket, too?" + +"Take care; those are new-laid eggs. Katie +brought them in from Monte Oliveto this morning. +There are some Christmas roses for you, +Signor Rivarez; I know you are fond of flowers." + +She sat down beside the table and began clipping +the stalks of the flowers and arranging them +in a vase. + +"Well, Rivarez," said Galli; "tell us the rest of +the puma-hunt story; you had just begun." + +"Ah, yes! Galli was asking me about life in +South America, signora; and I was telling him +how I came to get my left arm spoiled. It was +in Peru. We had been wading a river on a puma-hunt, +and when I fired at the beast the powder +wouldn't go off; it had got splashed with water. +Naturally the puma didn't wait for me to rectify +that; and this is the result." + +"That must have been a pleasant experience." + +"Oh, not so bad! One must take the rough +with the smooth, of course; but it's a splendid +life on the whole. Serpent-catching, for instance----" + +He rattled on, telling anecdote after anecdote; +now of the Argentine war, now of the Brazilian +expedition, now of hunting feats and adventures +with savages or wild beasts. Galli, with the delight +of a child hearing a fairy story, kept interrupting +every moment to ask questions. He was +of the impressionable Neapolitan temperament +and loved everything sensational. Gemma took +some knitting from her basket and listened +silently, with busy fingers and downcast eyes. +Martini frowned and fidgeted. The manner in +which the anecdotes were told seemed to him +boastful and self-conscious; and, notwithstanding +his unwilling admiration for a man who could +endure physical pain with the amazing fortitude +which he had seen the week before, he genuinely +disliked the Gadfly and all his works and ways. + +"It must have been a glorious life!" sighed +Galli with naive envy. "I wonder you ever made +up your mind to leave Brazil. Other countries +must seem so flat after it!" + +"I think I was happiest in Peru and Ecuador," +said the Gadfly. "That really is a magnificent +tract of country. Of course it is very hot, especially +the coast district of Ecuador, and one has to +rough it a bit; but the scenery is superb beyond +imagination." + +"I believe," said Galli, "the perfect freedom of +life in a barbarous country would attract me more +than any scenery. A man must feel his personal, +human dignity as he can never feel it in our +crowded towns." + +"Yes," the Gadfly answered; "that is----" + +Gemma raised her eyes from her knitting and +looked at him. He flushed suddenly scarlet and +broke off. There was a little pause. + +"Surely it is not come on again?" asked Galli +anxiously. + +"Oh, nothing to speak of, thanks to your +s-s-soothing application that I b-b-blasphemed +against. Are you going already, Martini?" + +"Yes. Come along, Galli; we shall be late." + +Gemma followed the two men out of the room, +and presently returned with an egg beaten up in +milk. + +"Take this, please," she said with mild authority; +and sat down again to her knitting. The +Gadfly obeyed meekly. + +For half an hour, neither spoke. Then the Gadfly +said in a very low voice: + +"Signora Bolla!" + +She looked up. He was tearing the fringe of +the couch-rug, and kept his eyes lowered. + +"You didn't believe I was speaking the truth +just now," he began. + +"I had not the smallest doubt that you were +telling falsehoods," she answered quietly. + +"You were quite right. I was telling falsehoods +all the time." + +"Do you mean about the war?" + +"About everything. I was not in that war at +all; and as for the expedition, I had a few adventures, +of course, and most of those stories are true, +but it was not that way I got smashed. You have +detected me in one lie, so I may as well confess the +lot, I suppose." + +"Does it not seem to you rather a waste of +energy to invent so many falsehoods?" she asked. +"I should have thought it was hardly worth the +trouble." + +"What would you have? You know your own +English proverb: 'Ask no questions and you'll be +told no lies.' It's no pleasure to me to fool people +that way, but I must answer them somehow when +they ask what made a cripple of me; and I may as +well invent something pretty while I'm about it. +You saw how pleased Galli was." + +"Do you prefer pleasing Galli to speaking the truth?" + +"The truth!" He looked up with the torn +fringe in his hand. "You wouldn't have me tell +those people the truth? I'd cut my tongue out +first!" Then with an awkward, shy abruptness: + +"I have never told it to anybody yet; but I'll tell +you if you care to hear." + +She silently laid down her knitting. To her +there was something grievously pathetic in this +hard, secret, unlovable creature, suddenly flinging +his personal confidence at the feet of a woman +whom he barely knew and whom he apparently +disliked. + +A long silence followed, and she looked up. +He was leaning his left arm on the little table beside +him, and shading his eyes with the mutilated +hand, and she noticed the nervous tension of the +fingers and the throbbing of the scar on the wrist. +She came up to him and called him softly by name. +He started violently and raised his head. + +"I f-forgot," he stammered apologetically. "I +was g-going to t-tell you about----" + +"About the--accident or whatever it was that +caused your lameness. But if it worries you----" + +"The accident? Oh, the smashing! Yes; +only it wasn't an accident, it was a poker." + +She stared at him in blank amazement. He +pushed back his hair with a hand that shook perceptibly, +and looked up at her, smiling. + +"Won't you sit down? Bring your chair close, +please. I'm so sorry I can't get it for you. +R-really, now I come to think of it, the case would +have been a p-perfect t-treasure-trove for Riccardo +if he had had me to treat; he has the true surgeon's +love for broken bones, and I believe everything +in me that was breakable was broken on that +occasion--except my neck." + +"And your courage," she put in softly. "But +perhaps you count that among your unbreakable +possessions." + +He shook his head. "No," he said; "my courage +has been mended up after a fashion, with the +rest of me; but it was fairly broken then, like a +smashed tea-cup; that's the horrible part of it. +Ah---- Yes; well, I was telling you about the +poker. + +"It was--let me see--nearly thirteen years ago, +in Lima. I told you Peru was a delightful country +to live in; but it's not quite so nice for people that +happen to be at low water, as I was. I had been +down in the Argentine, and then in Chili, tramping +the country and starving, mostly; and had +come up from Valparaiso as odd-man on a cattle-boat. +I couldn't get any work in Lima itself, so I +went down to the docks,--they're at Callao, you +know,--to try there. Well of course in all those +shipping-ports there are low quarters where the +sea-faring people congregate; and after some time +I got taken on as servant in one of the gambling +hells there. I had to do the cooking and billiard-marking, +and fetch drink for the sailors and their +women, and all that sort of thing. Not very +pleasant work; still I was glad to get it; there was +at least food and the sight of human faces and +sound of human tongues--of a kind. You may +think that was no advantage; but I had just been +down with yellow fever, alone in the outhouse of a +wretched half-caste shanty, and the thing had +given me the horrors. Well, one night I was told +to put out a tipsy Lascar who was making himself +obnoxious; he had come ashore and lost all his +money and was in a bad temper. Of course I had +to obey if I didn't want to lose my place and +starve; but the man was twice as strong as I--I +was not twenty-one and as weak as a cat after the +fever. Besides, he had the poker." + +He paused a moment, glancing furtively at her; +then went on: + +"Apparently he intended to put an end to me +altogether; but somehow he managed to scamp +his work--Lascars always do if they have a +chance; and left just enough of me not smashed to +go on living with." + +"Yes, but the other people, could they not +interfere? Were they all afraid of one Lascar?" + +He looked up and burst out laughing. + +"THE OTHER PEOPLE? The gamblers and the +people of the house? Why, you don't understand! +They were negroes and Chinese and Heaven knows +what; and I was their servant--THEIR PROPERTY. +They stood round and enjoyed the fun, of course. +That sort of thing counts for a good joke out +there. So it is if you don't happen to be the subject +practised on." + +She shuddered. + +"Then what was the end of it?" + +"That I can't tell you much about; a man +doesn't remember the next few days after a thing +of that kind, as a rule. But there was a ship's +surgeon near, and it seems that when they found I +was not dead, somebody called him in. He +patched me up after a fashion--Riccardo seems to +think it was rather badly done, but that may be +professional jealousy. Anyhow, when I came to +my senses, an old native woman had taken me in +for Christian charity--that sounds queer, doesn't +it? She used to sit huddled up in the corner of +the hut, smoking a black pipe and spitting on the +floor and crooning to herself. However, she +meant well, and she told me I might die in peace +and nobody should disturb me. But the spirit of +contradiction was strong in me and I elected to +live. It was rather a difficult job scrambling back +to life, and sometimes I am inclined to think it +was a great deal of cry for very little wool. Anyway +that old woman's patience was wonderful; +she kept me--how long was it?--nearly four +months lying in her hut, raving like a mad thing at +intervals, and as vicious as a bear with a sore ear +between-whiles. The pain was pretty bad, you +see, and my temper had been spoiled in childhood +with overmuch coddling." + +"And then?" + +"Oh, then--I got up somehow and crawled +away. No, don't think it was any delicacy about +taking a poor woman's charity--I was past caring +for that; it was only that I couldn't bear the place +any longer. You talked just now about my courage; +if you had seen me then! The worst of the +pain used to come on every evening, about dusk; +and in the afternoon I used to lie alone, and watch +the sun get lower and lower---- Oh, you can't +understand! It makes me sick to look at a sunset now!" + +A long pause. + +"Well, then I went up country, to see if I could +get work anywhere--it would have driven me mad +to stay in Lima. I got as far as Cuzco, and +there------ Really I don't know why I'm inflicting +all this ancient history on you; it hasn't even the +merit of being funny." + +She raised her head and looked at him with deep +and serious eyes. "PLEASE don't talk that way," +she said. + +He bit his lip and tore off another piece of the +rug-fringe. + +"Shall I go on?" he asked after a moment. + +"If--if you will. I am afraid it is horrible to +you to remember." + +"Do you think I forget when I hold my tongue? +It's worse then. But don't imagine it's the thing +itself that haunts me so. It is the fact of having +lost the power over myself." + +"I--don't think I quite understand." + +"I mean, it is the fact of having come to the +end of my courage, to the point where I found +myself a coward." + +"Surely there is a limit to what anyone can bear." + +"Yes; and the man who has once reached +that limit never knows when he may reach it +again." + +"Would you mind telling me," she asked, hesitating, +"how you came to be stranded out there alone at twenty?" + +"Very simply: I had a good opening in life, at +home in the old country, and ran away from it." + +"Why?" + +He laughed again in his quick, harsh way. + +"Why? Because I was a priggish young cub, +I suppose. I had been brought up in an over-luxurious +home, and coddled and faddled after till +I thought the world was made of pink cotton-wool +and sugared almonds. Then one fine day I found +out that someone I had trusted had deceived me. +Why, how you start! What is it?" + +"Nothing. Go on, please." + +"I found out that I had been tricked into believing +a lie; a common bit of experience, of course; +but, as I tell you, I was young and priggish, and +thought that liars go to hell. So I ran away from +home and plunged into South America to sink or +swim as I could, without a cent in my pocket or a +word of Spanish in my tongue, or anything but +white hands and expensive habits to get my bread +with. And the natural result was that I got a dip +into the real hell to cure me of imagining sham +ones. A pretty thorough dip, too--it was just +five years before the Duprez expedition came +along and pulled me out." + +"Five years! Oh, that is terrible! And had +you no friends?" + +"Friends! I"--he turned on her with sudden +fierceness--"I have NEVER had a friend!" + +The next instant he seemed a little ashamed of +his vehemence, and went on quickly: + +"You mustn't take all this too seriously; I dare +say I made the worst of things, and really it wasn't +so bad the first year and a half; I was young and +strong and I managed to scramble along fairly +well till the Lascar put his mark on me. But after +that I couldn't get work. It's wonderful what an +effectual tool a poker is if you handle it properly; +and nobody cares to employ a cripple." + +"What sort of work did you do?" + +"What I could get. For some time I lived by +odd-jobbing for the blacks on the sugar plantations, +fetching and carrying and so on. It's one of +the curious things in life, by the way, that slaves +always contrive to have a slave of their own, and +there's nothing a negro likes so much as a white +fag to bully. But it was no use; the overseers +always turned me off. I was too lame to be +quick; and I couldn't manage the heavy loads. +And then I was always getting these attacks +of inflammation, or whatever the confounded +thing is. + +"After some time I went down to the silver-mines +and tried to get work there; but it was all +no good. The managers laughed at the very +notion of taking me on, and as for the men, they +made a dead set at me." + +"Why was that?" + +"Oh, human nature, I suppose; they saw I had +only one hand that I could hit back with. They're +a mangy, half-caste lot; negroes and Zambos +mostly. And then those horrible coolies! So at +last I got enough of that, and set off to tramp the +country at random; just wandering about, on the +chance of something turning up." + +"To tramp? With that lame foot!" + +He looked up with a sudden, piteous catching +of the breath. + +"I--I was hungry," he said. + +She turned her head a little away and rested her +chin on one hand. After a moment's silence he +began again, his voice sinking lower and lower as +he spoke: + +"Well, I tramped, and tramped, till I was nearly +mad with tramping, and nothing came of it. I +got down into Ecuador, and there it was worse +than ever. Sometimes I'd get a bit of tinkering +to do,--I'm a pretty fair tinker,--or an errand to +run, or a pigstye to clean out; sometimes I +did--oh, I hardly know what. And then at last, +one day------" + +The slender, brown hand clenched itself suddenly +on the table, and Gemma, raising her head, +glanced at him anxiously. His side-face was +turned towards her, and she could see a vein on +the temple beating like a hammer, with quick, +irregular strokes. She bent forward and laid a +gentle hand on his arm. + +"Never mind the rest; it's almost too horrible +to talk about." + +He stared doubtfully at the hand, shook his +head, and went on steadily: + +"Then one day I met a travelling variety show. +You remember that one the other night; well, that +sort of thing, only coarser and more indecent. +The Zambos are not like these gentle Florentines; +they don't care for anything that is not foul or +brutal. There was bull-fighting, too, of course. +They had camped out by the roadside for the +night; and I went up to their tent to beg. Well, +the weather was hot and I was half starved, and +so--I fainted at the door of the tent. I had a +trick of fainting suddenly at that time, like a +boarding-school girl with tight stays. So they +took me in and gave me brandy, and food, and so +on; and then--the next morning--they offered +me----" + +Another pause. + +"They wanted a hunchback, or monstrosity of +some kind; for the boys to pelt with orange-peel +and banana-skins--something to set the blacks +laughing------ You saw the clown that night-- +well, I was that--for two years. I suppose you +have a humanitarian feeling about negroes and +Chinese. Wait till you've been at their mercy! + +"Well, I learned to do the tricks. I was not +quite deformed enough; but they set that right +with an artificial hump and made the most of this +foot and arm---- And the Zambos are not critical; +they're easily satisfied if only they can get +hold of some live thing to torture--the fool's dress +makes a good deal of difference, too. + +"The only difficulty was that I was so often ill +and unable to play. Sometimes, if the manager +was out of temper, he would insist on my coming +into the ring when I had these attacks on; and I +believe the people liked those evenings best. +Once, I remember, I fainted right off with the pain +in the middle of the performance---- When I +came to my senses again, the audience had got +round me--hooting and yelling and pelting me +with------" + +"Don't! I can't hear any more! Stop, for +God's sake!" + +She was standing up with both hands over her +ears. He broke off, and, looking up, saw the +glitter of tears in her eyes. + +"Damn it all, what an idiot I am!" he said +under his breath. + +She crossed the room and stood for a little while +looking out of the window. When she turned +round, the Gadfly was again leaning on the table +and covering his eyes with one hand. He had evidently +forgotten her presence, and she sat down +beside him without speaking. After a long silence +she said slowly: + +"I want to ask you a question." + +"Yes?" without moving. + +"Why did you not cut your throat?" + +He looked up in grave surprise. "I did not expect +YOU to ask that," he said. "And what about +my work? Who would have done it for me?" + +"Your work---- Ah, I see! You talked just +now about being a coward; well, if you have come +through that and kept to your purpose, you are +the very bravest man that I have ever met." + +He covered his eyes again, and held her hand in +a close passionate clasp. A silence that seemed to +have no end fell around them. + +Suddenly a clear and fresh soprano voice rang +out from the garden below, singing a verse of a +doggerel French song: + + + "Eh, Pierrot! Danse, Pierrot! + Danse un peu, mon pauvre Jeannot! + Vive la danse et l'allegresse! + Jouissons de notre bell' jeunesse! + Si moi je pleure ou moi je soupire, + Si moi je fais la triste figure-- + Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire! + Ha! Ha, ha, ha! + Monsieur, ce n'est que pour rire!" + + +At the first words the Gadfly tore his hand from +Gemma's and shrank away with a stifled groan. +She clasped both hands round his arm and pressed +it firmly, as she might have pressed that of a person +undergoing a surgical operation. When the +song broke off and a chorus of laughter and applause +came from the garden, he looked up with +the eyes of a tortured animal. + +"Yes, it is Zita," he said slowly; "with her +officer friends. She tried to come in here the +other night, before Riccardo came. I should have +gone mad if she had touched me!" + +"But she does not know," Gemma protested +softly. "She cannot guess that she is hurting +you." + +"She is like a Creole," he answered, shuddering. +"Do you remember her face that night when we +brought in the beggar-child? That is how the +half-castes look when they laugh." + +Another burst of laughter came from the garden. +Gemma rose and opened the window. Zita, with +a gold-embroidered scarf wound coquettishly +round her head, was standing in the garden path, +holding up a bunch of violets, for the possession +of which three young cavalry officers appeared +to be competing. + +"Mme. Reni!" said Gemma. + +Zita's face darkened like a thunder-cloud. +"Madame?" she said, turning and raising her +eyes with a defiant look. + +"Would your friends mind speaking a little +more softly? Signor Rivarez is very unwell." + +The gipsy flung down her violets. "Allez-vous +en!" she said, turning sharply on the astonished +officers. "Vous m'embetez, messieurs!" + +She went slowly out into the road. Gemma +closed the window. + +"They have gone away," she said, turning to +him. + +"Thank you. I--I am sorry to have troubled +you." + +"It was no trouble." He at once detected the +hesitation in her voice. + +"'But?'" he said. "That sentence was not +finished, signora; there was an unspoken 'but' in +the back of your mind." + +"If you look into the backs of people's minds, +you mustn't be offended at what you read there. +It is not my affair, of course, but I cannot understand----" + +"My aversion to Mme. Reni? It is only when----" + +"No, your caring to live with her when you feel +that aversion. It seems to me an insult to her as +a woman and as----" + +"A woman!" He burst out laughing harshly. +"Is THAT what you call a woman? 'Madame, ce +n'est que pour rire!'" + +"That is not fair!" she said. "You have no +right to speak of her in that way to anyone-- +especially to another woman!" + +He turned away, and lay with wide-open eyes, +looking out of the window at the sinking sun. She +lowered the blind and closed the shutters, that he +might not see it set; then sat down at the table +by the other window and took up her knitting +again. + +"Would you like the lamp?" she asked after a moment. + +He shook his head. + +When it grew too dark to see, Gemma rolled up +her knitting and laid it in the basket. For some +time she sat with folded hands, silently watching +the Gadfly's motionless figure. The dim evening +light, falling on his face, seemed to soften away its +hard, mocking, self-assertive look, and to deepen +the tragic lines about the mouth. By some fanciful +association of ideas her memory went vividly +back to the stone cross which her father had set +up in memory of Arthur, and to its inscription: + + + "All thy waves and billows have gone over me." + + +An hour passed in unbroken silence. At last +she rose and went softly out of the room. Coming +back with a lamp, she paused for a moment, +thinking that the Gadfly was asleep. As the light +fell on his face he turned round. + +"I have made you a cup of coffee," she said, +setting clown the lamp. + +"Put it down a minute. Will you come here, +please." + +He took both her hands in his. + +"I have been thinking," he said. "You are +quite right; it is an ugly tangle I have got my life +into. But remember, a man does not meet every +day a woman whom he can--love; and I--I have +been in deep waters. I am afraid----" + +"Afraid----" + +"Of the dark. Sometimes I DARE not be alone +at night. I must have something living--something +solid beside me. It is the outer darkness, +where shall be---- No, no! It's not that; that's +a sixpenny toy hell;--it's the INNER darkness. +There's no weeping or gnashing of teeth there; +only silence--silence----" + +His eyes dilated. She was quite still, hardly +breathing till he spoke again. + +"This is all mystification to you, isn't it? You +can't understand--luckily for you. What I mean +is that I have a pretty fair chance of going mad if +I try to live quite alone---- Don't think too +hardly of me, if you can help it; I am not altogether +the vicious brute you perhaps imagine me to be." + +"I cannot try to judge for you," she answered. +"I have not suffered as you have. But--I have +been in rather deep water too, in another way; and +I think--I am sure--that if you let the fear of anything +drive you to do a really cruel or unjust or +ungenerous thing, you will regret it afterwards. +For the rest--if you have failed in this one thing, +I know that I, in your place, should have failed +altogether,--should have cursed God and died." + +He still kept her hands in his. + +"Tell me," he said very softly; "have you ever +in your life done a really cruel thing?" + +She did not answer, but her head sank down, +and two great tears fell on his hand. + +"Tell me!" he whispered passionately, clasping +her hands tighter. "Tell me! I have told you +all my misery." + +"Yes,--once,--long ago. And I did it to the +person I loved best in the world." + +The hands that clasped hers were trembling violently; +but they did not loosen their hold. + +"He was a comrade," she went on; "and I believed +a slander against him,--a common glaring +lie that the police had invented. I struck him in +the face for a traitor; and he went away and +drowned himself. Then, two days later, I found +out that he had been quite innocent. Perhaps +that is a worse memory than any of yours. I +would cut off my right hand to undo what it has done." + +Something swift and dangerous--something +that she had not seen before,--flashed into his +eyes. He bent his head down with a furtive, sudden +gesture and kissed the hand. + +She drew back with a startled face. "Don't!" +she cried out piteously. "Please don't ever do +that again! You hurt me!" + +"Do you think you didn't hurt the man you +killed?" + +"The man I--killed---- Ah, there is Cesare +at the gate at last! I--I must go!" + + . . . . . + +When Martini came into the room he found the +Gadfly lying alone with the untouched coffee beside +him, swearing softly to himself in a languid, +spiritless way, as though he got no satisfaction +out of it. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +A FEW days later, the Gadfly, still rather pale and +limping more than usual, entered the reading +room of the public library and asked for Cardinal +Montanelli's sermons. Riccardo, who was reading +at a table near him, looked up. He liked the +Gadfly very much, but could not digest this one +trait in him--this curious personal maliciousness. + +"Are you preparing another volley against that +unlucky Cardinal?" he asked half irritably. + +"My dear fellow, why do you a-a-always attribute +evil m-m-motives to people? It's m-most +unchristian. I am preparing an essay on contemporary +theology for the n-n-new paper." + +"What new paper?" Riccardo frowned. It +was perhaps an open secret that a new press-law +was expected and that the Opposition was preparing +to astonish the town with a radical newspaper; +but still it was, formally, a secret. + +"The Swindlers' Gazette, of course, or the +Church Calendar." + +"Sh-sh! Rivarez, we are disturbing the other +readers." + +"Well then, stick to your surgery, if that's +your subject, and l-l-leave me to th-theology-- +that's mine. I d-d-don't interfere with your +treatment of broken bones, though I know a +p-p-precious lot more about them than you do." + +He sat down to his volume of sermons with an +intent and preoccupied face. One of the librarians +came up to him. + +"Signor Rivarez! I think you were in the +Duprez expedition, exploring the tributaries of the +Amazon? Perhaps you will kindly help us in a +difficulty. A lady has been inquiring for the +records of the expedition, and they are at the +binder's." + +"What does she want to know?" + +"Only in what year the expedition started and +when it passed through Ecuador." + +"It started from Paris in the autumn of 1837, +and passed through Quito in April, 1838. We +were three years in Brazil; then went down to Rio +and got back to Paris in the summer of 1841. +Does the lady want the dates of the separate +discoveries?" + +"No, thank you; only these. I have written +them down. Beppo, take this paper to Signora +Bolla, please. Many thanks, Signor Rivarez. I +am sorry to have troubled you." + +The Gadfly leaned back in his chair with a perplexed +frown. What did she want the dates for? +When they passed through Ecuador---- + +Gemma went home with the slip of paper in her +hand. April, 1838--and Arthur had died in May, +1833. Five years-- + +She began pacing up and down her room. She +had slept badly the last few nights, and there were +dark shadows under her eyes. + +Five years;--and an "overluxurious home"-- +and "someone he had trusted had deceived him" +--had deceived him--and he had found it out---- + +She stopped and put up both hands to her head. +Oh, this was utterly mad--it was not possible--it +was absurd---- + +And yet, how they had dragged that harbour! + +Five years--and he was "not twenty-one" +when the Lascar---- Then he must have been +nineteen when he ran away from home. Had he +not said: "A year and a half----" Where did he +get those blue eyes from, and that nervous restlessness +of the fingers? And why was he so bitter +against Montanelli? Five years--five years------ + +If she could but know that he was drowned--if +she could but have seen the body; some day, +surely, the old wound would have left off aching, +the old memory would have lost its terrors. Perhaps +in another twenty years she would have +learned to look back without shrinking. + +All her youth had been poisoned by the thought +of what she had done. Resolutely, day after day +and year after year, she had fought against the +demon of remorse. Always she had remembered +that her work lay in the future; always had shut +her eyes and ears to the haunting spectre of the +past. And day after day, year after year, the +image of the drowned body drifting out to sea had +never left her, and the bitter cry that she could not +silence had risen in her heart: "I have killed +Arthur! Arthur is dead!" Sometimes it had +seemed to her that her burden was too heavy to +be borne. + +Now she would have given half her life to have +that burden back again. If she had killed him-- +that was a familiar grief; she had endured it too +long to sink under it now. But if she had driven +him, not into the water but into------ She sat +down, covering her eyes with both hands. And +her life had been darkened for his sake, because he +was dead! If she had brought upon him nothing +worse than death---- + +Steadily, pitilessly she went back, step by step, +through the hell of his past life. It was as vivid +to her as though she had seen and felt it all; the +helpless shivering of the naked soul, the mockery +that was bitterer than death, the horror of +loneliness, the slow, grinding, relentless agony. It +was as vivid as if she had sat beside him in the +filthy Indian hut; as if she had suffered with him in +the silver-mines, the coffee fields, the horrible +variety show-- + +The variety show---- No, she must shut out +that image, at least; it was enough to drive one +mad to sit and think of it. + +She opened a little drawer in her writing-desk. +It contained the few personal relics which she +could not bring herself to destroy. She was +not given to the hoarding up of sentimental +trifles; and the preservation of these keepsakes +was a concession to that weaker side of her +nature which she kept under with so steady a +hand. She very seldom allowed herself to look +at them. + +Now she took them out, one after another: +Giovanni's first letter to her, and the flowers that +had lain in his dead hand; a lock of her baby's +hair and a withered leaf from her father's grave. +At the back of the drawer was a miniature portrait +of Arthur at ten years old--the only existing +likeness of him. + +She sat down with it in her hands and looked +at the beautiful childish head, till the face of the +real Arthur rose up afresh before her. How clear +it was in every detail! The sensitive lines of the +mouth, the wide, earnest eyes, the seraphic purity +of expression--they were graven in upon her +memory, as though he had died yesterday. +Slowly the blinding tears welled up and hid the +portrait. + +Oh, how could she have thought such a thing! +It was like sacrilege even to dream of this bright, +far-off spirit, bound to the sordid miseries of life. +Surely the gods had loved him a little, and had let +him die young! Better a thousand times that he +should pass into utter nothingness than that he +should live and be the Gadfly--the Gadfly, with +his faultless neckties and his doubtful witticisms, +his bitter tongue and his ballet girl! No, no! It +was all a horrible, senseless fancy; and she had +vexed her heart with vain imaginings. Arthur +was dead. + +"May I come in?" asked a soft voice at the +door. + +She started so that the portrait fell from her +hand, and the Gadfly, limping across the room, +picked it up and handed it to her. + +"How you startled me!" she said. + +"I am s-so sorry. Perhaps I am disturbing +you?" + +"No. I was only turning over some old +things." + +She hesitated for a moment; then handed him +back the miniature. + +"What do you think of that head?" + +While he looked at it she watched his face as +though her life depended upon its expression; but +it was merely negative and critical. + +"You have set me a difficult task," he said. +"The portrait is faded, and a child's face is always +hard to read. But I should think that child would +grow into an unlucky man, and the wisest thing +he could do would be to abstain from growing into +a man at all." + +"Why?" + +"Look at the line of the under-lip. Th-th-that +is the sort of nature that feels pain as pain and +wrong as wrong; and the world has no r-r-room +for such people; it needs people who feel nothing +but their work." + +"Is it at all like anyone you know?" + +He looked at the portrait more closely. + +"Yes. What a curious thing! Of course it +is; very like." + +"Like whom?" + +"C-c-cardinal Montan-nelli. I wonder whether +his irreproachable Eminence has any nephews, by +the way? Who is it, if I may ask?" + +"It is a portrait, taken in childhood, of the +friend I told you about the other day----" + +"Whom you killed?" + +She winced in spite of herself. How lightly, +how cruelly he used that dreadful word! + +"Yes, whom I killed--if he is really dead." + +"If?" + +She kept her eyes on his face. + +"I have sometimes doubted," she said. "The +body was never found. He may have run away +from home, like you, and gone to South America." + +"Let us hope not. That would be a bad memory +to carry about with you. I have d-d-done +some hard fighting in my t-time, and have sent +m-more than one man to Hades, perhaps; but if +I had it on my conscience that I had sent any l-living +thing to South America, I should sleep badly----" + +"Then do you believe," she interrupted, coming +nearer to him with clasped hands, "that if he were +not drowned,--if he had been through your experience +instead,--he would never come back and +let the past go? Do you believe he would NEVER +forget? Remember, it has cost me something, +too. Look!" + +She pushed back the heavy waves of hair from +her forehead. Through the black locks ran a +broad white streak. + +There was a long silence. + +"I think," the Gadfly said slowly, "that the +dead are better dead. Forgetting some things is +a difficult matter. And if I were in the place of +your dead friend, I would s-s-stay dead. The +REVENANT is an ugly spectre." + +She put the portrait back into its drawer and +locked the desk. + +"That is hard doctrine," she said. "And now +we will talk about something else." + +"I came to have a little business talk with you, +if I may--a private one, about a plan that I have +in my head." + +She drew a chair to the table and sat down. +"What do you think of the projected press-law?" +he began, without a trace of his usual stammer. + +"What I think of it? I think it will not be of +much value, but half a loaf is better than no +bread." + +"Undoubtedly. Then do you intend to work +on one of the new papers these good folk here are +preparing to start?" + +"I thought of doing so. There is always a +great deal of practical work to be done in starting +any paper--printing and circulation arrangements +and----" + +"How long are you going to waste your mental +gifts in that fashion?" + +"Why 'waste'?" + +"Because it is waste. You know quite well +that you have a far better head than most of the +men you are working with, and you let them make +a regular drudge and Johannes factotum of you. +Intellectually you are as far ahead of Grassini and +Galli as if they were schoolboys; yet you sit correcting +their proofs like a printer's devil." + +"In the first place, I don't spend all my time +in correcting proofs; and moreover it seems to me +that you exaggerate my mental capacities. They +are by no means so brilliant as you think." + +"I don't think them brilliant at all," he answered +quietly; "but I do think them sound and +solid, which is of much more importance. At +those dreary committee meetings it is always you +who put your finger on the weak spot in everybody's logic." + +"You are not fair to the others. Martini, for +instance, has a very logical head, and there is no +doubt about the capacities of Fabrizi and Lega. Then +Grassini has a sounder knowledge of Italian economic +statistics than any official in the country, perhaps." + +"Well, that's not saying much; but let us lay +them and their capacities aside. The fact remains +that you, with such gifts as you possess, might do +more important work and fill a more responsible +post than at present." + +"I am quite satisfied with my position. The +work I am doing is not of very much value, perhaps, +but we all do what we can." + +"Signora Bolla, you and I have gone too far to +play at compliments and modest denials now. +Tell me honestly, do you recognize that you are +using up your brain on work which persons inferior +to you could do as well?" + +"Since you press me for an answer--yes, to +some extent." + +"Then why do you let that go on?" + +No answer. + +"Why do you let it go on?" + +"Because--I can't help it." + +"Why?" + +She looked up reproachfully. "That is unkind +--it's not fair to press me so." + +"But all the same you are going to tell me why." + +"If you must have it, then--because my life has +been smashed into pieces, and I have not the +energy to start anything REAL, now. I am about +fit to be a revolutionary cab-horse, and do the +party's drudge-work. At least I do it conscientiously, +and it must be done by somebody." + +"Certainly it must be done by somebody; but +not always by the same person." + +"It's about all I'm fit for." + +He looked at her with half-shut eyes, inscrutably. +Presently she raised her head. + +"We are returning to the old subject; and this +was to be a business talk. It is quite useless, I +assure you, to tell me I might have done all sorts +of things. I shall never do them now. But I may +be able to help you in thinking out your plan. +What is it?" + +"You begin by telling me that it is useless for +me to suggest anything, and then ask what I want +to suggest. My plan requires your help in action, +not only in thinking out." + +"Let me hear it and then we will discuss." + +"Tell me first whether you have heard anything +about schemes for a rising in Venetia." + +"I have heard of nothing but schemes for risings +and Sanfedist plots ever since the amnesty, +and I fear I am as sceptical about the one as about +the other." + +"So am I, in most cases; but I am speaking of +really serious preparations for a rising of the whole +province against the Austrians. A good many +young fellows in the Papal States--particularly in +the Four Legations--are secretly preparing to get +across there and join as volunteers. And I hear +from my friends in the Romagna----" + +"Tell me," she interrupted, "are you quite sure +that these friends of yours can be trusted?" + +"Quite sure. I know them personally, and +have worked with them." + +"That is, they are members of the 'sect' to +which you belong? Forgive my scepticism, but I +am always a little doubtful as to the accuracy of +information received from secret societies. It +seems to me that the habit----" + +"Who told you I belonged to a 'sect'?" he interrupted sharply. + +"No one; I guessed it." + +"Ah!" He leaned back in his chair and looked +at her, frowning. "Do you always guess people's +private affairs?" he said after a moment. + +"Very often. I am rather observant, and have +a habit of putting things together. I tell you that +so that you may be careful when you don't want +me to know a thing." + +"I don't mind your knowing anything so long as it +goes no further. I suppose this has not----" + +She lifted her head with a gesture of half-offended +surprise. "Surely that is an unnecessary question!" she said. + +"Of course I know you would not speak of anything +to outsiders; but I thought that perhaps, to +the members of your party----" + +"The party's business is with facts, not with +my personal conjectures and fancies. Of course +I have never mentioned the subject to anyone." + +"Thank you. Do you happen to have guessed +which sect I belong to?" + +"I hope--you must not take offence at my +frankness; it was you who started this talk, you +know---- I do hope it is not the 'Knifers.'" + +"Why do you hope that?" + +"Because you are fit for better things." + +"We are all fit for better things than we ever +do. There is your own answer back again. However, +it is not the 'Knifers' that I belong to, but +the 'Red Girdles.' They are a steadier lot, and +take their work more seriously." + +"Do you mean the work of knifing?" + +"That, among other things. Knives are very +useful in their way; but only when you have a +good, organized propaganda behind them. That +is what I dislike in the other sect. They think a +knife can settle all the world's difficulties; and +that's a mistake. It can settle a good many, but +not all." + +"Do you honestly believe that it settles any?" + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"Of course," she went on, "it eliminates, for +the moment, the practical difficulty caused by the +presence of a clever spy or objectionable official; +but whether it does not create worse difficulties in +place of the one removed is another question. It +seems to me like the parable of the swept and garnished +house and the seven devils. Every assassination only +makes the police more vicious and +the people more accustomed to violence and brutality, +and the last state of the community may be +worse than the first." + +"What do you think will happen when the revolution +comes? Do you suppose the people won't +have to get accustomed to violence then? War +is war." + +"Yes, but open revolution is another matter. +It is one moment in the people's life, and it is the +price we have to pay for all our progress. No +doubt fearful things will happen; they must in +every revolution. But they will be isolated +facts--exceptional features of an exceptional moment. +The horrible thing about this promiscuous +knifing is that it becomes a habit. The people get +to look upon it as an every-day occurrence, and +their sense of the sacredness of human life gets +blunted. I have not been much in the Romagna, +but what little I have seen of the people has given +me the impression that they have got, or are getting, +into a mechanical habit of violence." + +"Surely even that is better than a mechanical +habit of obedience and submission." + +"I don't think so. All mechanical habits are +bad and slavish, and this one is ferocious as well. +Of course, if you look upon the work of the revolutionist +as the mere wresting of certain definite +concessions from the government, then the secret +sect and the knife must seem to you the best weapons, +for there is nothing else which all governments +so dread. But if you think, as I do, that to +force the government's hand is not an end in itself, +but only a means to an end, and that what we +really need to reform is the relation between man +and man, then you must go differently to work. +Accustoming ignorant people to the sight of blood +is not the way to raise the value they put on human +life." + +"And the value they put on religion?" + +"I don't understand." + +He smiled. + +"I think we differ as to where the root of the +mischief lies. You place it in a lack of appreciation +of the value of human life." + +"Rather of the sacredness of human personality." + +"Put it as you like. To me the great cause of +our muddles and mistakes seems to lie in the +mental disease called religion." + +"Do you mean any religion in particular?" + +"Oh, no! That is a mere question of external +symptoms. The disease itself is what is called a +religious attitude of mind. It is the morbid +desire to set up a fetich and adore it, to fall down +and worship something. It makes little difference +whether the something be Jesus or Buddha or a +tum-tum tree. You don't agree with me, of +course. You may be atheist or agnostic or anything +you like, but I could feel the religious temperament +in you at five yards. However, it is of +no use for us to discuss that. But you are quite +mistaken in thinking that I, for one, look upon the +knifing as merely a means of removing objectionable +officials--it is, above all, a means, and I think +the best means, of undermining the prestige of the +Church and of accustoming people to look upon +clerical agents as upon any other vermin." + +"And when you have accomplished that; when +you have roused the wild beast that sleeps in the +people and set it on the Church; then----" + +"Then I shall have done the work that makes it +worth my while to live." + +"Is THAT the work you spoke of the other day?" + +"Yes, just that." + +She shivered and turned away. + +"You are disappointed in me?" he said, looking +up with a smile. + +"No; not exactly that. I am--I think--a little +afraid of you." + +She turned round after a moment and said in +her ordinary business voice: + +"This is an unprofitable discussion. Our standpoints +are too different. For my part, I believe +in propaganda, propaganda, and propaganda; and +when you can get it, open insurrection." + +"Then let us come back to the question of my +plan; it has something to do with propaganda and +more with insurrection." + +"Yes?" + +"As I tell you, a good many volunteers are going +from the Romagna to join the Venetians. +We do not know yet how soon the insurrection +will break out. It may not be till the autumn +or winter; but the volunteers in the Apennines +must be armed and ready, so that they may be +able to start for the plains directly they are +sent for. I have undertaken to smuggle the +firearms and ammunition on to Papal territory for +them----" + +"Wait a minute. How do you come to be +working with that set? The revolutionists in +Lombardy and Venetia are all in favour of the new +Pope. They are going in for liberal reforms, hand +in hand with the progressive movement in the +Church. How can a 'no-compromise' anti-clerical +like you get on with them?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. "What is it to me +if they like to amuse themselves with a rag-doll, +so long as they do their work? Of course they +will take the Pope for a figurehead. What have +I to do with that, if only the insurrection gets +under way somehow? Any stick will do to beat +a dog with, I suppose, and any cry to set the people +on the Austrians." + +"What is it you want me to do?" + +"Chiefly to help me get the firearms across." + +"But how could I do that?" + +"You are just the person who could do it best. +I think of buying the arms in England, and there +is a good deal of difficulty about bringing them +over. It's impossible to get them through any +of the Pontifical sea-ports; they must come by +Tuscany, and go across the Apennines." + +"That makes two frontiers to cross instead of +one." + +"Yes; but the other way is hopeless; you can't +smuggle a big transport in at a harbour where there +is no trade, and you know the whole shipping of +Civita Vecchia amounts to about three row-boats +and a fishing smack. If we once get the things +across Tuscany, I can manage the Papal frontier; +my men know every path in the mountains, and we +have plenty of hiding-places. The transport must +come by sea to Leghorn, and that is my great difficulty; +I am not in with the smugglers there, and +I believe you are." + +"Give me five minutes to think." + +She leaned forward, resting one elbow on her +knee, and supporting the chin on the raised hand. +After a few moments' silence she looked up. + +"It is possible that I might be of some use in +that part of the work," she said; "but before we go +any further, I want to ask you a question. Can +you give me your word that this business is not +connected with any stabbing or secret violence of +any kind?" + +"Certainly. It goes without saying that I +should not have asked you to join in a thing of +which I know you disapprove." + +"When do you want a definite answer from +me?" + +"There is not much time to lose; but I can give +you a few days to decide in." + +"Are you free next Saturday evening?" + +"Let me see--to-day is Thursday; yes." + +"Then come here. I will think the matter over +and give you a final answer." + + . . . . . + +On the following Sunday Gemma sent in to the +committee of the Florentine branch of the Mazzinian +party a statement that she wished to undertake +a special work of a political nature, which +would for a few months prevent her from performing +the functions for which she had up till now +been responsible to the party. + +Some surprise was felt at this announcement, +but the committee raised no objection; she had +been known in the party for several years as a person +whose judgment might be trusted; and the +members agreed that if Signora Bolla took an unexpected +step, she probably had good reasons for it. + +To Martini she said frankly that she had undertaken +to help the Gadfly with some "frontier +work." She had stipulated for the right to tell her +old friend this much, in order that there might be +no misunderstanding or painful sense of doubt and +mystery between them. It seemed to her that she +owed him this proof of confidence. He made no +comment when she told him; but she saw, without +knowing why, that the news had wounded +him deeply. + +They were sitting on the terrace of her lodging, +looking out over the red roofs to Fiesole. After +a long silence, Martini rose and began tramping +up and down with his hands in his pockets, whistling +to himself--a sure sign with him of mental agitation. +She sat looking at him for a little while. + +"Cesare, you are worried about this affair," she +said at last. "I am very sorry you feel so despondent +over it; but I could decide only as seemed +right to me." + +"It is not the affair," he answered, sullenly; +"I know nothing about it, and it probably is all +right, once you have consented to go into it. It's +the MAN I distrust." + +"I think you misunderstand him; I did till I +got to know him better. He is far from perfect, +but there is much more good in him than you +think." + +"Very likely." For a moment he tramped to +and fro in silence, then suddenly stopped beside +her. + +"Gemma, give it up! Give it up before it is too +late! Don't let that man drag you into things +you will repent afterwards." + +"Cesare," she said gently, "you are not thinking +what you are saying. No one is dragging me +into anything. I have made this decision of my +own will, after thinking the matter well over alone. +You have a personal dislike to Rivarez, I know; +but we are talking of politics now, not of persons." + +"Madonna! Give it up! That man is dangerous; +he is secret, and cruel, and unscrupulous-- +and he is in love with you!" + +She drew back. + +"Cesare, how can you get such fancies into your +head?" + +"He is in love with you," Martini repeated. +"Keep clear of him, Madonna!" + +"Dear Cesare, I can't keep clear of him; and I +can't explain to you why. We are tied together-- +not by any wish or doing of our own." + +"If you are tied, there is nothing more to say," +Martini answered wearily. + +He went away, saying that he was busy, and +tramped for hours up and down the muddy streets. +The world looked very black to him that evening. +One poor ewe-lamb--and this slippery creature +had stepped in and stolen it away. + + + +CHAPTER X. + +TOWARDS the middle of February the Gadfly +went to Leghorn. Gemma had introduced him to +a young Englishman there, a shipping-agent of +liberal views, whom she and her husband had +known in England. He had on several occasions +performed little services for the Florentine radicals: +had lent money to meet an unforeseen emergency, +had allowed his business address to be used +for the party's letters, etc.; but always through +Gemma's mediumship, and as a private friend of +hers. She was, therefore, according to party +etiquette, free to make use of the connexion in +any way that might seem good to her. Whether +any use could be got out of it was quite another +question. To ask a friendly sympathizer to lend +his address for letters from Sicily or to keep a +few documents in a corner of his counting-house +safe was one thing; to ask him to smuggle over a +transport of firearms for an insurrection was +another; and she had very little hope of his +consenting. + +"You can but try," she had said to the Gadfly; +"but I don't think anything will come of it. If +you were to go to him with that recommendation +and ask for five hundred scudi, I dare say he'd give +them to you at once--he's exceedingly generous, +--and perhaps at a pinch he would lend you +his passport or hide a fugitive in his cellar; but if +you mention such a thing as rifles he will stare at +you and think we're both demented." + +"Perhaps he may give me a few hints, though, +or introduce me to a friendly sailor or two," the +Gadfly had answered. "Anyway, it's worth while +to try." + +One day at the end of the month he came into +her study less carefully dressed than usual, and she +saw at once from his face that he had good news +to tell. + +"Ah, at last! I was beginning to think something +must have happened to you!" + +"I thought it safer not to write, and I couldn't +get back sooner." + +"You have just arrived?" + +"Yes; I am straight from the diligence; I +looked in to tell you that the affair is all settled." + +"Do you mean that Bailey has really consented +to help?" + +"More than to help; he has undertaken the +whole thing,--packing, transports,--everything. +The rifles will be hidden in bales of merchandise +and will come straight through from England. +His partner, Williams, who is a great friend of his, +has consented to see the transport off from Southampton, +and Bailey will slip it through the +custom house at Leghorn. That is why I have +been such a long time; Williams was just starting +for Southampton, and I went with him as far as +Genoa." + +"To talk over details on the way?" + +"Yes, as long as I wasn't too sea-sick to talk +about anything." + +"Are you a bad sailor?" she asked quickly, remembering +how Arthur had suffered from sea-sickness one day when her +father had taken them both for a pleasure-trip. + +"About as bad as is possible, in spite of having +been at sea so much. But we had a talk +while they were loading at Genoa. You know +Williams, I think? He's a thoroughly good fellow, +trustworthy and sensible; so is Bailey, for +that matter; and they both know how to hold +their tongues." + +"It seems to me, though, that Bailey is running +a serious risk in doing a thing like this." + +"So I told him, and he only looked sulky and +said: 'What business is that of yours?' Just the +sort of thing one would expect him to say. If I +met Bailey in Timbuctoo, I should go up to him +and say: 'Good-morning, Englishman.'" + +"But I can't conceive how you managed to get +their consent; Williams, too; the last man I +should have thought of." + +"Yes, he objected strongly at first; not on the +ground of danger, though, but because the thing +is 'so unbusiness-like.' But I managed to win +him over after a bit. And now we will go into +details." + + . . . . . + +When the Gadfly reached his lodgings the sun +had set, and the blossoming pyrus japonica that +hung over the garden wall looked dark in the fading +light. He gathered a few sprays and carried +them into the house. As he opened the study +door, Zita started up from a chair in the corner and +ran towards him. + +"Oh, Felice; I thought you were never coming!" + +His first impulse was to ask her sharply what +business she had in his study; but, remembering +that he had not seen her for three weeks, he held +out his hand and said, rather frigidly: + +"Good-evening, Zita; how are you?" + +She put up her face to be kissed, but he moved +past as though he had not seen the gesture, and +took up a vase to put the pyrus in. The next +instant the door was flung wide open, and the +collie, rushing into the room, performed an ecstatic +dance round him, barking and whining with delight. +He put down the flowers and stooped to pat the dog. + +"Well, Shaitan, how are you, old man? Yes, +it's really I. Shake hands, like a good dog!" + +The hard, sullen look came into Zita's face. + +"Shall we go to dinner?" she asked coldly. "I +ordered it for you at my place, as you wrote that +you were coming this evening." + +He turned round quickly. + +"I am v-v-very sorry; you sh-should not have +waited for me! I will just get a bit tidy and +come round at once. P-perhaps you would not +mind putting these into water." + +When he came into Zita's dining room she was +standing before a mirror, fastening one of the +sprays into her dress. She had apparently made +up her mind to be good-humoured, and came up to +him with a little cluster of crimson buds tied +together. + +"Here is a buttonhole for you; let me put it in +your coat." + +All through dinner-time he did his best to be +amiable, and kept up a flow of small-talk, to which +she responded with radiant smiles. Her evident +joy at his return somewhat embarrassed him; +he had grown so accustomed to the idea that she +led her own life apart from his, among such friends +and companions as were congenial to her, that it +had never occurred to him to imagine her as missing +him. And yet she must have felt dull to be +so much excited now. + +"Let us have coffee up on the terrace," she said; +"it is quite warm this evening." + +"Very well. Shall I take your guitar? Perhaps +you will sing." + +She flushed with delight; he was critical about +music and did not often ask her to sing. + +On the terrace was a broad wooden bench running +round the walls. The Gadfly chose a corner +with a good view of the hills, and Zita, seating herself +on the low wall with her feet on the bench, +leaned back against a pillar of the roof. She did +not care much for scenery; she preferred to look at +the Gadfly. + +"Give me a cigarette," she said. "I don't believe +I have smoked once since you went away." + +"Happy thought! It's just s-s-smoke I want +to complete my bliss." + +She leaned forward and looked at him earnestly. + +"Are you really happy?" + +The Gadfly's mobile brows went up. + +"Yes; why not? I have had a good dinner; I +am looking at one of the m-most beautiful views +in Europe; and now I'm going to have coffee and +hear a Hungarian folk-song. There is nothing the +matter with either my conscience or my digestion; +what more can man desire?" + +"I know another thing you desire." + +"What?" + +"That!" She tossed a little cardboard box +into his hand. + +"B-burnt almonds! Why d-didn't you tell me +before I began to s-smoke?" he cried reproachfully. + +"Why, you baby! you can eat them when you +have done smoking. There comes the coffee." + +The Gadfly sipped his coffee and ate his burnt +almonds with the grave and concentrated enjoyment +of a cat drinking cream. + +"How nice it is to come back to d-decent coffee, +after the s-s-stuff one gets at Leghorn!" he said +in his purring drawl. + +"A very good reason for stopping at home now +you are here." + +"Not much stopping for me; I'm off again +to-morrow." + +The smile died on her face. + +"To-morrow! What for? Where are you going to?" + +"Oh! two or three p-p-places, on business." + +It had been decided between him and Gemma +that he must go in person into the Apennines to +make arrangements with the smugglers of the +frontier region about the transporting of the firearms. +To cross the Papal frontier was for him a +matter of serious danger; but it had to be done if +the work was to succeed. + +"Always business!" Zita sighed under her +breath; and then asked aloud: + +"Shall you be gone long?" + +"No; only a fortnight or three weeks, p-p-probably." + +"I suppose it's some of THAT business?" she +asked abruptly. + +"'That' business?" + +"The business you're always trying to get your +neck broken over--the everlasting politics." + +"It has something to do with p-p-politics." + +Zita threw away her cigarette. + +"You are fooling me," she said. "You are +going into some danger or other." + +"I'm going s-s-straight into the inf-fernal regions," +he answered languidly. "D-do you happen to have any friends +there you want to send that ivy to? You n-needn't pull it +all down, though." + +She had fiercely torn off a handful of the climber +from the pillar, and now flung it down with vehement anger. + +"You are going into danger," she repeated; +"and you won't even say so honestly! Do you +think I am fit for nothing but to be fooled and +joked with? You will get yourself hanged one of +these days, and never so much as say good-bye. +It's always politics and politics--I'm sick of +politics!" + +"S-so am I," said the Gadfly, yawning lazily; +"and therefore we'll talk about something else-- +unless you will sing." + +"Well, give me the guitar, then. What shall I sing?" + +"The ballad of the lost horse; it suits your voice +so well." + +She began to sing the old Hungarian ballad of +the man who loses first his horse, then his home, +and then his sweetheart, and consoles himself with +the reflection that "more was lost at Mohacz +field." The song was one of the Gadfly's especial +favourites; its fierce and tragic melody and the +bitter stoicism of the refrain appealed to him as +no softer music ever did. + +Zita was in excellent voice; the notes came +from her lips strong and clear, full of the vehement +desire of life. She would have sung Italian or +Slavonic music badly, and German still worse; but +she sang the Magyar folk-songs splendidly. + +The Gadfly listened with wide-open eyes and +parted lips; he had never heard her sing like this +before. As she came to the last line, her voice +began suddenly to shake. + + + "Ah, no matter! More was lost----" + + +She broke down with a sob and hid her face +among the ivy leaves. + +"Zita!" The Gadfly rose and took the guitar +from her hand. "What is it?" + +She only sobbed convulsively, hiding her face in +both hands. He touched her on the arm. + +"Tell me what is the matter," he said caressingly. + +"Let me alone!" she sobbed, shrinking away. +"Let me alone!" + +He went quietly back to his seat and waited till the +sobs died away. Suddenly he felt her arms about his neck; +she was kneeling on the floor beside him. + +"Felice--don't go! Don't go away!" + +"We will talk about that afterwards," he said, +gently extricating himself from the clinging arms. +"Tell me first what has upset you so. Has anything +been frightening you?" + +She silently shook her head. + +"Have I done anything to hurt you?" + +"No." She put a hand up against his throat. + +"What, then?" + +"You will get killed," she whispered at last. +"I heard one of those men that come here say the +other day that you will get into trouble--and +when I ask you about it you laugh at me!" + +"My dear child," the Gadfly said, after a little +pause of astonishment, "you have got some exaggerated +notion into your head. Very likely I shall +get killed some day--that is the natural consequence +of being a revolutionist. But there is no +reason to suppose I am g-g-going to get killed +just now. I am running no more risk than other +people." + +"Other people--what are other people to me? +If you loved me you wouldn't go off this way and +leave me to lie awake at night, wondering whether +you're arrested, or dream you are dead whenever +I go to sleep. You don't care as much for me as +for that dog there!" + +The Gadfly rose and walked slowly to the other +end of the terrace. He was quite unprepared for +such a scene as this and at a loss how to answer +her. Yes, Gemma was right; he had got his life into +a tangle that he would have hard work to undo. + +"Sit down and let us talk about it quietly," he +said, coming back after a moment. "I think we +have misunderstood each other; of course I should +not have laughed if I had thought you were serious. +Try to tell me plainly what is troubling you; +and then, if there is any misunderstanding, we +may be able to clear it up." + +"There's nothing to clear up. I can see you +don't care a brass farthing for me." + +"My dear child, we had better be quite frank +with each other. I have always tried to be honest +about our relationship, and I think I have never +deceived you as to----" + +"Oh, no! you have been honest enough; you +have never even pretended to think of me as anything +else but a prostitute,--a trumpery bit of +second-hand finery that plenty of other men have +had before you--" + +"Hush, Zita! I have never thought that way +about any living thing." + +"You have never loved me," she insisted sullenly. + +"No, I have never loved you. Listen to me, +and try to think as little harm of me as you can." + +"Who said I thought any harm of you? I----" + +"Wait a minute. This is what I want to say: +I have no belief whatever in conventional moral +codes, and no respect for them. To me the relations +between men and women are simply questions of +personal likes and dislikes------" + +"And of money," she interrupted with a harsh +little laugh. He winced and hesitated a moment. + +"That, of course, is the ugly part of the matter. +But believe me, if I had thought that you disliked +me, or felt any repulsion to the thing, I would +never have suggested it, or taken advantage of +your position to persuade you to it. I have never +done that to any woman in my life, and I have +never told a woman a lie about my feeling for her. +You may trust me that I am speaking the truth----" + +He paused a moment, but she did not answer. + +"I thought," he went on; "that if a man is +alone in the world and feels the need of--of a +woman's presence about him, and if he can find +a woman who is attractive to him and to whom he +is not repulsive, he has a right to accept, in a grateful +and friendly spirit, such pleasure as that woman +is willing to give him, without entering into any +closer bond. I saw no harm in the thing, provided +only there is no unfairness or insult or deceit +on either side. As for your having been in that +relation with other men before I met you, I did +not think about that. I merely thought that the +connexion would be a pleasant and harmless one +for both of us, and that either was free to break +it as soon as it became irksome. If I was mistaken +--if you have grown to look upon it differently-- +then----" + +He paused again. + +"Then?" she whispered, without looking up. + +"Then I have done you a wrong, and I am very +sorry. But I did not mean to do it." + +"You 'did not mean' and you 'thought'---- +Felice, are you made of cast iron? Have you never +been in love with a woman in your life that you +can't see I love you?" + +A sudden thrill went through him; it was so +long since anyone had said to him: "I love you." +Instantly she started up and flung her arms round +him. + +"Felice, come away with me! Come away from +this dreadful country and all these people and their +politics! What have we got to do with them? +Come away, and we will be happy together. Let +us go to South America, where you used to live." + +The physical horror of association startled +him back into self-control; he unclasped her hands +from his neck and held them in a steady grasp. + +"Zita! Try to understand what I am saying +to you. I do not love you; and if I did I would +not come away with you. I have my work in +Italy, and my comrades----" + +"And someone else that you love better than +me!" she cried out fiercely. "Oh, I could kill +you! It is not your comrades you care about; + +it's---- I know who it is!" + +"Hush!" he said quietly. "You are excited +and imagining things that are not true." + +"You suppose I am thinking of Signora Bolla? +I'm not so easily duped! You only talk politics +with her; you care no more for her than you do for +me. It's that Cardinal!" + +The Gadfly started as if he had been shot. + +"Cardinal?" he repeated mechanically. + +"Cardinal Montanelli, that came here preaching +in the autumn. Do you think I didn't see your +face when his carriage passed? You were as white +as my pocket-handkerchief! Why, you're shaking +like a leaf now because I mentioned his name!" + +He stood up. + +"You don't know what you are talking about," +he said very slowly and softly. "I--hate the +Cardinal. He is the worst enemy I have." + +"Enemy or no, you love him better than you +love anyone else in the world. Look me in the +face and say that is not true, if you can!" + +He turned away, and looked out into the garden. +She watched him furtively, half-scared at +what she had done; there was something terrifying +in his silence. At last she stole up to him, +like a frightened child, and timidly pulled his +sleeve. He turned round. + +"It is true," he said. + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +"BUT c-c-can't I meet him somewhere in the +hills? Brisighella is a risky place for me." + +"Every inch of ground in the Romagna is +risky for you; but just at this moment Brisighella +is safer for you than any other place." + +"Why?" + +"I'll tell you in a minute. Don't let that man +with the blue jacket see your face; he's dangerous. +Yes; it was a terrible storm; I don't remember to +have seen the vines so bad for a long time." + +The Gadfly spread his arms on the table, and +laid his face upon them, like a man overcome with +fatigue or wine; and the dangerous new-comer in +the blue jacket, glancing swiftly round, saw only +two farmers discussing their crops over a flask of +wine and a sleepy mountaineer with his head on +the table. It was the usual sort of thing to see in +little places like Marradi; and the owner of the +blue jacket apparently made up his mind that +nothing could be gained by listening; for he drank +his wine at a gulp and sauntered into the outer +room. There he stood leaning on the counter and +gossiping lazily with the landlord, glancing every +now and then out of the corner of one eye through +the open door, beyond which sat the three figures +at the table. The two farmers went on sipping +their wine and discussing the weather in the local +dialect, and the Gadfly snored like a man whose +conscience is sound. + +At last the spy seemed to make up his mind that +there was nothing in the wine-shop worth further +waste of his time. He paid his reckoning, and, +lounging out of the house, sauntered away down +the narrow street. The Gadfly, yawning and +stretching, lifted himself up and sleepily rubbed +the sleeve of his linen blouse across his eyes. + +"Pretty sharp practice that," he said, pulling +a clasp-knife out of his pocket and cutting off a +chunk from the rye-loaf on the table. "Have +they been worrying you much lately, Michele?" + +"They've been worse than mosquitos in August. +There's no getting a minute's peace; wherever +one goes, there's always a spy hanging about. +Even right up in the hills, where they used to be +so shy about venturing, they have taken to coming +in bands of three or four--haven't they, Gino? +That's why we arranged for you to meet Domenichino +in the town." + +"Yes; but why Brisighella? A frontier town +is always full of spies." + +"Brisighella just now is a capital place. It's +swarming with pilgrims from all parts of the country." + +"But it's not on the way to anywhere." + +"It's not far out of the way to Rome, and many +of the Easter Pilgrims are going round to hear +Mass there." + +"I d-d-didn't know there was anything special +in Brisighella." + +"There's the Cardinal. Don't you remember +his going to Florence to preach last December? +It's that same Cardinal Montanelli. They say he +made a great sensation." + +"I dare say; I don't go to hear sermons." + +"Well, he has the reputation of being a saint, +you see." + +"How does he manage that?" + +"I don't know. I suppose it's because he gives +away all his income, and lives like a parish priest +with four or five hundred scudi a year." + +"Ah!" interposed the man called Gino; "but +it's more than that. He doesn't only give away +money; he spends his whole life in looking after +the poor, and seeing the sick are properly treated, +and hearing complaints and grievances from morning +till night. I'm no fonder of priests than you +are, Michele, but Monsignor Montanelli is not like +other Cardinals." + +"Oh, I dare say he's more fool than knave!" +said Michele. "Anyhow, the people are mad after +him, and the last new freak is for the pilgrims to +go round that way to ask his blessing. Domenichino +thought of going as a pedlar, with a basket +of cheap crosses and rosaries. The people like to +buy those things and ask the Cardinal to touch +them; then they put them round their babies' +necks to keep off the evil eye." + +"Wait a minute. How am I to go--as a pilgrim? +This make-up suits me p-pretty well, I think; but +it w-won't do for me to show myself in Brisighella +in the same character that I had here; it would be +ev-v-vidence against you if I get taken." + +"You won't get taken; we have a splendid +disguise for you, with a passport and all complete." + +"What is it?" + +"An old Spanish pilgrim--a repentant brigand +from the Sierras. He fell ill in Ancona last year, +and one of our friends took him on board a trading-vessel +out of charity, and set him down in Venice, where he had +friends, and he left his papers with us to show his +gratitude. They will just do for you." + +"A repentant b-b-brigand? But w-what about +the police?" + +"Oh, that's all right! He finished his term of +the galleys some years ago, and has been going +about to Jerusalem and all sorts of places saving +his soul ever since. He killed his son by mistake +for somebody else, and gave himself up to the +police in a fit of remorse." + +"Was he quite old?" + +"Yes; but a white beard and wig will set that +right, and the description suits you to perfection +in every other respect. He was an old soldier, +with a lame foot and a sabre-cut across the face +like yours; and then his being a Spaniard, too-- +you see, if you meet any Spanish pilgrims, you can +talk to them all right." + +"Where am I to meet Domenichino?" + +"You join the pilgrims at the cross-road that +we will show you on the map, saying you had lost +your way in the hills. Then, when you reach the +town, you go with the rest of them into the marketplace, +in front of the Cardinal's palace." + +"Oh, he manages to live in a p-palace, then, +in s-spite of being a saint?" + +"He lives in one wing of it, and has turned the +rest into a hospital. Well, you all wait there for +him to come out and give his benediction, and +Domenichino will come up with his basket and +say: "Are you one of the pilgrims, father?" and +you answer: 'I am a miserable sinner.' Then he +puts down his basket and wipes his face with his +sleeve, and you offer him six soldi for a rosary." + +"Then, of course, he arranges where we can talk?" + +"Yes; he will have plenty of time to give you +the address of the meeting-place while the people +are gaping at Montanelli. That was our plan; but +if you don't like it, we can let Domenichino know +and arrange something else." + +"No; it will do; only see that the beard and +wig look natural." + + . . . . . + +"Are you one of the pilgrims, father?" + +The Gadfly, sitting on the steps of the episcopal +palace, looked up from under his ragged white +locks, and gave the password in a husky, trembling +voice, with a strong foreign accent. Domenichino +slipped the leather strap from his shoulder, +and set down his basket of pious gewgaws on the +step. The crowd of peasants and pilgrims sitting +on the steps and lounging about the market-place +was taking no notice of them, but for precaution's +sake they kept up a desultory conversation, Domenichino +speaking in the local dialect and the Gadfly in +broken Italian, intermixed with Spanish words. + +"His Eminence! His Eminence is coming +out!" shouted the people by the door. "Stand +aside! His Eminence is coming!" + +They both stood up. + +"Here, father," said Domenichino, putting into +the Gadfly's hand a little image wrapped in paper; +"take this, too, and pray for me when you get to +Rome." + +The Gadfly thrust it into his breast, and turned +to look at the figure in the violet Lenten robe and +scarlet cap that was standing on the upper step +and blessing the people with outstretched arms. + +Montanelli came slowly down the steps, the +people crowding about him to kiss his hands. +Many knelt down and put the hem of his cassock +to their lips as he passed. + +"Peace be with you, my children!" + +At the sound of the clear, silvery voice, the +Gadfly bent his head, so that the white hair fell +across his face; and Domenichino, seeing the +quivering of the pilgrim's staff in his hand, said to +himself with admiration: "What an actor!" + +A woman standing near to them stooped down +and lifted her child from the step. "Come, +Cecco," she said. "His Eminence will bless you +as the dear Lord blessed the children." + +The Gadfly moved a step forward and stopped. +Oh, it was hard! All these outsiders--these pilgrims +and mountaineers--could go up and speak +to him, and he would lay his hand on their children's +hair. Perhaps he would say "Carino" to +that peasant boy, as he used to say---- + +The Gadfly sank down again on the step, turning +away that he might not see. If only he could +shrink into some corner and stop his ears to shut +out the sound! Indeed, it was more than any man +should have to bear--to be so close, so close that +he could have put out his arm and touched the +dear hand. + +"Will you not come under shelter, my friend?" +the soft voice said. "I am afraid you are chilled." + +The Gadfly's heart stood still. For a moment +he was conscious of nothing but the sickening +pressure of the blood that seemed as if it would +tear his breast asunder; then it rushed back, tingling +and burning through all his body, and he +looked up. The grave, deep eyes above him grew +suddenly tender with divine compassion at the +sight of his face. + +"Stand bark a little, friends," Montanelli said, +turning to the crowd; "I want to speak to him." + +The people fell slowly back, whispering to each +other, and the Gadfly, sitting motionless, with +teeth clenched and eyes on the ground, felt the +gentle touch of Montanelli's hand upon his +shoulder. + +"You have had some great trouble. Can I do +anything to help you?" + +The Gadfly shook his head in silence. + +"Are you a pilgrim?" + +"I am a miserable sinner." + +The accidental similarity of Montanelli's question +to the password came like a chance straw, +that the Gadfly, in his desperation, caught at, answering +automatically. He had begun to tremble +under the soft pressure of the hand that seemed +to burn upon his shoulder. + +The Cardinal bent down closer to him. + +"Perhaps you would care to speak to me alone? +If I can be any help to you----" + +For the first time the Gadfly looked straight +and steadily into Montanelli's eyes; he was already +recovering his self-command. + +"It would be no use," he said; "the thing is +hopeless." + +A police official stepped forward out of the +crowd. + +"Forgive my intruding, Your Eminence. I +think the old man is not quite sound in his mind. +He is perfectly harmless, and his papers are in +order, so we don't interfere with him. He has +been in penal servitude for a great crime, and is +now doing penance." + +"A great crime," the Gadfly repeated, shaking +his head slowly. + +"Thank you, captain; stand aside a little, +please. My friend, nothing is hopeless if a man +has sincerely repented. Will you not come to me +this evening?" + +"Would Your Eminence receive a man who is +guilty of the death of his own son?" + +The question had almost the tone of a challenge, +and Montanelli shrank and shivered under it as +under a cold wind. + +"God forbid that I should condemn you, whatever +you have done!" he said solemnly. "In His +sight we are all guilty alike, and our righteousness +is as filthy rags. If you will come to me I will +receive you as I pray that He may one day receive me." + +The Gadfly stretched out his hands with a sudden +gesture of passion. + +"Listen!" he said; "and listen all of you, +Christians! If a man has killed his only son--his +son who loved and trusted him, who was flesh of +his flesh and bone of his bone; if he has led his son +into a death-trap with lies and deceit--is there +hope for that man in earth or heaven? I have +confessed my sin before God and man, and I have +suffered the punishment that men have laid on +me, and they have let me go; but when will God +say, 'It is enough'? What benediction will take +away His curse from my soul? What absolution +will undo this thing that I have done?" + +In the dead silence that followed the people +looked at Montanelli, and saw the heaving of the +cross upon his breast. + +He raised his eyes at last, and gave the benediction +with a hand that was not quite steady. + +"God is merciful," he said. "Lay your burden +before His throne; for it is written: 'A +broken and contrite heart shalt thou not despise.'" + +He turned away and walked through the market-place, +stopping everywhere to speak to the +people, and to take their children in his arms. + +In the evening the Gadfly, following the directions +written on the wrapping of the image, made +his way to the appointed meeting-place. It was +the house of a local doctor, who was an active +member of the "sect." Most of the conspirators +were already assembled, and their delight at the +Gadfly's arrival gave him a new proof, if he had +needed one, of his popularity as a leader. + +"We're glad enough to see you again," said the +doctor; "but we shall be gladder still to see you +go. It's a fearfully risky business, and I, for one, +was against the plan. Are you quite sure none of +those police rats noticed you in the market-place +this morning?" + +"Oh, they n-noticed me enough, but they +d-didn't recognize me. Domenichino m-managed +the thing capitally. But where is he? I don't see +him." + +"He has not come yet. So you got on all +smoothly? Did the Cardinal give you his blessing?" + +"His blessing? Oh, that's nothing," said Domenichino, +coming in at the door. "Rivarez, +you're as full of surprises as a Christmas cake. +How many more talents are you going to astonish +us with?" + +"What is it now?" asked the Gadfly languidly. +He was leaning back on a sofa, smoking a cigar. +He still wore his pilgrim's dress, but the white +beard and wig lay beside him. + +"I had no idea you were such an actor. I never +saw a thing done so magnificently in my life. You +nearly moved His Eminence to tears." + +"How was that? Let us hear, Rivarez." + +The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. He was in +a taciturn and laconic mood, and the others, seeing +that nothing was to be got out of him, +appealed to Domenichino to explain. When the +scene in the market-place had been related, one +young workman, who had not joined in the laughter +of the rest, remarked abruptly: + +"It was very clever, of course; but I don't see +what good all this play-acting business has done +to anybody." + +"Just this much," the Gadfly put in; "that I +can go where I like and do what I like anywhere +in this district, and not a single man, woman, or +child will ever think of suspecting me. The story +will be all over the place by to-morrow, and when +I meet a spy he will only think: 'It's mad Diego, +that confessed his sins in the market-place.' That +is an advantage gained, surely." + +"Yes, I see. Still, I wish the thing could have +been done without fooling the Cardinal. He's +too good to have that sort of trick played on +him." + +"I thought myself he seemed fairly decent," +the Gadfly lazily assented. + +"Nonsense, Sandro! We don't want Cardinals +here!" said Domenichino. "And if Monsignor +Montanelli had taken that post in Rome when he +had the chance of getting it, Rivarez couldn't have +fooled him." + +"He wouldn't take it because he didn't want to +leave his work here." + +"More likely because he didn't want to get +poisoned off by Lambruschini's agents. They've +got something against him, you may depend upon +it. When a Cardinal, especially such a popular +one, 'prefers to stay' in a God-forsaken little hole +like this, we all know what that means--don't we, +Rivarez?" + +The Gadfly was making smoke-rings. "Perhaps +it is a c-c-case of a 'b-b-broken and contrite +heart,'" he remarked, leaning his head back to +watch them float away. "And now, men, let us +get to business." + +They began to discuss in detail the various plans +which had been formed for the smuggling and concealment +of weapons. The Gadfly listened with +keen attention, interrupting every now and then +to correct sharply some inaccurate statement or +imprudent proposal. When everyone had finished +speaking, he made a few practical suggestions, +most of which were adopted without discussion. +The meeting then broke up. It had been resolved +that, at least until he was safely back in Tuscany, +very late meetings, which might attract the notice +of the police, should be avoided. By a little after +ten o'clock all had dispersed except the doctor, the +Gadfly, and Domenichino, who remained as +a sub-committee for the discussion of special +points. After a long and hot dispute, Domenichino +looked up at the clock. + +"Half-past eleven; we mustn't stop any longer +or the night-watchman may see us." + +"When does he pass?" asked the Gadfly. + +"About twelve o'clock; and I want to be home +before he comes. Good-night, Giordani. Rivarez, +shall we walk together?" + +"No; I think we are safer apart. Then I shall +see you again?" + +"Yes; at Castel Bolognese. I don't know yet +what disguise I shall be in, but you have the passWord. +You leave here to-morrow, I think?" + +The Gadfly was carefully putting on his beard +and wig before the looking-glass. + +"To-morrow morning, with the pilgrims. On +the next day I fall ill and stop behind in a shepherd's +hut, and then take a short cut across the hills. I shall +be down there before you will. Good-night!" + +Twelve o'clock was striking from the Cathedral +bell-tower as the Gadfly looked in at the door of +the great empty barn which had been thrown open +as a lodging for the pilgrims. The floor was +covered with clumsy figures, most of which were +snoring lustily, and the air was insufferably close +and foul. He drew back with a little shudder of +repugnance; it would be useless to attempt to +sleep in there; he would take a walk, and then +find some shed or haystack which would, at least, +be clean and quiet. + +It was a glorious night, with a great full moon +gleaming in a purple sky. He began to wander +through the streets in an aimless way, brooding +miserably over the scene of the morning, and wishing +that he had never consented to Domenichino's +plan of holding the meeting in Brisighella. If at +the beginning he had declared the project too dangerous, +some other place would have been chosen; +and both he and Montanelli would have been +spared this ghastly, ridiculous farce. + +How changed the Padre was! And yet his voice was +not changed at all; it was just the same as in the +old days, when he used to say: "Carino." + +The lantern of the night-watchman appeared at +the other end of the street, and the Gadfly turned +down a narrow, crooked alley. After walking a +few yards he found himself in the Cathedral +Square, close to the left wing of the episcopal +palace. The square was flooded with moonlight, +and there was no one in sight; but he noticed that +a side door of the Cathedral was ajar. The sacristan +must have forgotten to shut it. Surely nothing +could be going on there so late at night. He +might as well go in and sleep on one of the benches +instead of in the stifling barn; he could slip out in +the morning before the sacristan came; and even +if anyone did find him, the natural supposition +would be that mad Diego had been saying his +prayers in some corner, and had got shut in. + +He listened a moment at the door, and then +entered with the noiseless step that he had retained +notwithstanding his lameness. The moonlight +streamed through the windows, and lay in broad +bands on the marble floor. In the chancel, especially, +everything was as clearly visible as by daylight. At +the foot of the altar steps Cardinal Montanelli knelt +alone, bare-headed, with clasped hands. + +The Gadfly drew back into the shadow. Should +he slip away before Montanelli saw him? That, +no doubt, would be the wisest thing to do--perhaps +the most merciful. And yet, what harm +could it do for him to go just a little nearer--to +look at the Padre's face once more, now that the +crowd was gone, and there was no need to keep +up the hideous comedy of the morning? Perhaps +it would be his last chance--and the Padre need +not see him; he would steal up softly and look-- +just this once. Then he would go back to his work. + +Keeping in the shadow of the pillars, he crept +softly up to the chancel rails, and paused at the +side entrance, close to the altar. The shadow of +the episcopal throne was broad enough to cover +him, and he crouched down in the darkness, holding +his breath. + +"My poor boy! Oh, God; my poor boy!" + +The broken whisper was full of such endless +despair that the Gadfly shuddered in spite of himself. +Then came deep, heavy, tearless sobs; and +he saw Montanelli wring his hands together like +a man in bodily pain. + +He had not thought it would be so bad as +this. How often had he said to himself with bitter +assurance: "I need not trouble about it; that +wound was healed long ago." Now, after all these +years, it was laid bare before him, and he saw it +bleeding still. And how easy it would be to heal +it now at last! He need only lift his hand--only +step forward and say: "Padre, it is I." There +was Gemma, too, with that white streak across her +hair. Oh, if he could but forgive! If he could +but cut out from his memory the past that +was burned into it so deep--the Lascar, and the +sugar-plantation, and the variety show! Surely +there was no other misery like this--to be willing +to forgive, to long to forgive; and to know that +it was hopeless--that he could not, dared not forgive. + +Montanelli rose at last, made the sign of the +cross, and turned away from the altar. The Gadfly +shrank further back into the shadow, trembling +with fear lest he should be seen, lest the very +beating of his heart should betray him; then he +drew a long breath of relief. Montanelli had +passed him, so close that the violet robe had +brushed against his cheek,--had passed and had +not seen him. + +Had not seen him---- Oh, what had he done? +This had been his last chance--this one precious +moment--and he had let it slip away. He started +up and stepped into the light. + +"Padre!" + +The sound of his own voice, ringing up and +dying away along the arches of the roof, filled him +with fantastic terror. He shrank back again into +the shadow. Montanelli stood beside the pillar, +motionless, listening with wide-open eyes, full +of the horror of death. How long the silence +lasted the Gadfly could not tell; it might have +been an instant, or an eternity. He came to his +senses with a sudden shock. Montanelli was beginning +to sway as though he would fall, and his +lips moved, at first silently. + +"Arthur!" the low whisper came at last; "yes, +the water is deep----" + +The Gadfly came forward. + +"Forgive me, Your Eminence! I thought it +was one of the priests." + +"Ah, it is the pilgrim?" Montanelli had at +once recovered his self-control, though the Gadfly +could see, from the restless glitter of the sapphire +on his hand, that he was still trembling. "Are +you in need of anything, my friend? It is late, and +the Cathedral is closed at night." + +"I beg pardon, Your Eminence, if I have done +wrong. I saw the door open, and came in to pray, +and when I saw a priest, as I thought, in meditation, +I waited to ask a blessing on this." + +He held up the little tin cross that he had +bought from Domenichino. Montanelli took it +from his hand, and, re-entering the chancel, laid it +for a moment on the altar. + +"Take it, my son," he said, "and be at rest, +for the Lord is tender and pitiful. Go to Rome, +and ask the blessing of His minister, the Holy +Father. Peace be with you!" + +The Gadfly bent his head to receive the benediction, +and turned slowly away. + +"Stop!" said Montanelli. + +He was standing with one hand on the chancel rail. + +"When you receive the Holy Eucharist in +Rome," he said, "pray for one in deep affliction-- +for one on whose soul the hand of the Lord is heavy." + +There were almost tears in his voice, and the +Gadfly's resolution wavered. Another instant and +he would have betrayed himself. Then the +thought of the variety-show came up again, and +he remembered, like Jonah, that he did well to +be angry. + +"Who am I, that He should hear my prayers? +A leper and an outcast! If I could bring to His +throne, as Your Eminence can, the offering of a +holy life--of a soul without spot or secret +shame------" + +Montanelli turned abruptly away. + +"I have only one offering to give," he said; "a +broken heart." + + . . . . . + +A few days later the Gadfly returned to Florence +in the diligence from Pistoja. He went +straight to Gemma's lodgings, but she was out. +Leaving a message that he would return in the +morning he went home, sincerely hoping that he +should not again find his study invaded by Zita. +Her jealous reproaches would act on his nerves, +if he were to hear much of them to-night, like the +rasping of a dentist's file. + +"Good-evening, Bianca," he said when the +maid-servant opened the door. "Has Mme. Reni +been here to-day?" + +She stared at him blankly + +"Mme. Reni? Has she come back, then, sir?" + +"What do you mean?" he asked with a frown, +stopping short on the mat. + +"She went away quite suddenly, just after you +did, and left all her things behind her. She never +so much as said she was going." + +"Just after I did? What, a f-fortnight ago?" + +"Yes, sir, the same day; and her things are +lying about higgledy-piggledy. All the neighbours +are talking about it." + +He turned away from the door-step without +speaking, and went hastily down the lane to the +house where Zita had been lodging. In her rooms +nothing had been touched; all the presents that +he had given her were in their usual places; there +was no letter or scrap of writing anywhere. + +"If you please, sir," said Bianca, putting her +head in at the door, "there's an old woman----" + +He turned round fiercely. + +"What do you want here--following me +about?" + +"An old woman wishes to see you." + +"What does she want? Tell her I c-can't see +her; I'm busy." + +"She has been coming nearly every evening +since you went away, sir, always asking when you +would come back." + +"Ask her w-what her business is. No; never +mind; I suppose I must go myself." + +The old woman was waiting at his hall door. +She was very poorly dressed, with a face as brown +and wrinkled as a medlar, and a bright-coloured +scarf twisted round her head. As he came in +she rose and looked at him with keen black +eyes. + +"You are the lame gentleman," she said, inspecting +him critically from head to foot. "I have +brought you a message from Zita Reni." + +He opened the study door, and held it for her +to pass in; then followed her and shut the door, +that Bianca might not hear. + +"Sit down, please. N-now, tell me who you +are." + +"It's no business of yours who I am. I have +come to tell you that Zita Reni has gone away +with my son." + +"With--your--son?" + +"Yes, sir; if you don't know how to keep your +mistress when you've got her, you can't complain +if other men take her. My son has blood in his +veins, not milk and water; he comes of the +Romany folk." + +"Ah, you are a gipsy! Zita has gone back to +her own people, then?" + +She looked at him in amazed contempt. Apparently, +these Christians had not even manhood +enough to be angry when they were insulted. + +"What sort of stuff are you made of, that she +should stay with you? Our women may lend +themselves to you a bit for a girl's fancy, or if you +pay them well; but the Romany blood comes back +to the Romany folk." + +The Gadfly's face remained as cold and steady +as before. + +"Has she gone away with a gipsy camp, or +merely to live with your son?" + +The woman burst out laughing. + +"Do you think of following her and trying to +win her back? It's too late, sir; you should have +thought of that before!" + +"No; I only want to know the truth, if you will +tell it to me." + +She shrugged her shoulders; it was hardly +worth while to abuse a person who took it so +meekly. + +"The truth, then, is that she met my son in the +road the day you left her, and spoke to him in the +Romany tongue; and when he saw she was one of +our folk, in spite of her fine clothes, he fell in love +with her bonny face, as OUR men fall in love, and +took her to our camp. She told us all her trouble, +and sat crying and sobbing, poor lassie, till our +hearts were sore for her. We comforted her as +best we could; and at last she took off her fine +clothes and put on the things our lasses wear, and +gave herself to my son, to be his woman and to +have him for her man. He won't say to her: 'I +don't love you,' and: 'I've other things to do.' +When a woman is young, she wants a man; and +what sort of man are you, that you can't even +kiss a handsome girl when she puts her arms round +your neck?" + +"You said," he interrupted, "that you had +brought me a message from her." + +"Yes; I stopped behind when the camp went +on, so as to give it. She told me to say that she +has had enough of your folk and their hair-splitting +and their sluggish blood; and that she wants +to get back to her own people and be free. 'Tell +him,' she said, 'that I am a woman, and that I +loved him; and that is why I would not be his +harlot any longer.' The lassie was right to come +away. There's no harm in a girl getting a bit of +money out of her good looks if she can--that's +what good looks are for; but a Romany lass has +nothing to do with LOVING a man of your race." + +The Gadfly stood up. + +"Is that all the message?" he said. "Then tell +her, please, that I think she has done right, and +that I hope she will be happy. That is all I have +to say. Good-night!" + +He stood perfectly still until the garden gate +closed behind her; then he sat down and covered +his face with both hands. + +Another blow on the cheek! Was no rag of +pride to be left him--no shred of self-respect? +Surely he had suffered everything that man can +endure; his very heart had been dragged in the +mud and trampled under the feet of the passers-by; +there was no spot in his soul where someone's contempt +was not branded in, where someone's mockery +had not left its iron trace. And now this gipsy +girl, whom he had picked up by the wayside-- +even she had the whip in her hand. + +Shaitan whined at the door, and the Gadfly +rose to let him in. The dog rushed up to his master +with his usual frantic manifestations of delight, +but soon, understanding that something was +wrong, lay down on the rug beside him, and thrust +a cold nose into the listless hand. + +An hour later Gemma came up to the front door. +No one appeared in answer to her knock; Bianca, +finding that the Gadfly did not want any dinner, +had slipped out to visit a neighbour's cook. She +had left the door open, and a light burning in the +hall. Gemma, after waiting for some time, decided +to enter and try if she could find the Gadfly, as she +wished to speak to him about an important message +which had come from Bailey. She knocked +at the study door, and the Gadfly's voice answered +from within: "You can go away, Bianca. I don't +want anything." + +She softly opened the door. The room was +quite dark, but the passage lamp threw a long +stream of light across it as she entered, and she saw +the Gadfly sitting alone, his head sunk on his +breast, and the dog asleep at his feet. + +"It is I," she said. + +He started up. "Gemma,---- Gemma! Oh, +I have wanted you so!" + +Before she could speak he was kneeling on the +floor at her feet and hiding his face in the folds of +her dress. His whole body was shaken with a convulsive +tremor that was worse to see than tears. + +She stood still. There was nothing she could +do to help him--nothing. This was the bitterest +thing of all. She must stand by and look on passively +--she who would have died to spare him +pain. Could she but dare to stoop and clasp her +arms about him, to hold him close against her +heart and shield him, were it with her own body, +from all further harm or wrong; surely then he +would be Arthur to her again; surely then the day +would break and the shadows flee away. + +Ah, no, no! How could he ever forget? Was +it not she who had cast him into hell--she, with +her own right hand? + +She had let the moment slip by. He rose +hastily and sat down by the table, covering his +eyes with one hand and biting his lip as if he would +bite it through. + +Presently he looked up and said quietly: + +"I am afraid I startled you." + +She held out both her hands to him. "Dear," +she said, "are we not friends enough by now for +you to trust me a little bit? What is it?" + +"Only a private trouble of my own. I don't +see why you should be worried over it." + +"Listen a moment," she went on, taking his +hand in both of hers to steady its convulsive +trembling. "I have not tried to lay hands on a +thing that is not mine to touch. But now that +you have given me, of your own free will, so much +of your confidence, will you not give me a little +more--as you would do if I were your sister. +Keep the mask on your face, if it is any consolation +to you, but don't wear a mask on your soul, +for your own sake." + +He bent his head lower. "You must be patient +with me," he said. "I am an unsatisfactory sort +of brother to have, I'm afraid; but if you only +knew---- I have been nearly mad this last week. +It has been like South America again. And somehow +the devil gets into me and----" He broke off. + +"May I not have my share in your trouble?" +she whispered at last. + +His head sank down on her arm. "The hand of +the Lord is heavy." + + + + + +PART III. + +---------- + +CHAPTER I. + +THE next five weeks were spent by Gemma and +the Gadfly in a whirl of excitement and overwork +which left them little time or energy for thinking +about their personal affairs. When the arms had +been safely smuggled into Papal territory there +remained a still more difficult and dangerous task: +that of conveying them unobserved from the secret +stores in the mountain caverns and ravines to the +various local centres and thence to the separate +villages. The whole district was swarming with +spies; and Domenichino, to whom the Gadfly had +intrusted the ammunition, sent into Florence a +messenger with an urgent appeal for either help +or extra time. The Gadfly had insisted that the +work should be finished by the middle of June; +and what with the difficulty of conveying heavy +transports over bad roads, and the endless hindrances +and delays caused by the necessity of continually +evading observation, Domenichino was +growing desperate. "I am between Scylla and +Charybdis," he wrote. "I dare not work quickly, +for fear of detection, and I must not work slowly +if we are to be ready in time. Either send me +efficient help at once, or let the Venetians know +that we shall not be ready till the first week in +July." + +The Gadfly carried the letter to Gemma and, +while she read it, sat frowning at the floor and +stroking the cat's fur the wrong way. + +"This is bad," she said. "We can hardly keep +the Venetians waiting for three weeks." + +"Of course we can't; the thing is absurd. +Domenichino m-might unders-s-stand that. We +must follow the lead of the Venetians, not they +ours." + +"I don't see that Domenichino is to blame; he +has evidently done his best, and he can't do +impossibilities." + +"It's not in Domenichino that the fault lies; it's +in the fact of his being one person instead of two. +We ought to have at least one responsible man +to guard the store and another to see the transports +off. He is quite right; he must have efficient help." + +"But what help are we going to give him? We +have no one in Florence to send." + +"Then I m-must go myself." + +She leaned back in her chair and looked at him +with a little frown. + +"No, that won't do; it's too risky." + +"It will have to do if we can't f-f-find any other +way out of the difficulty." + +"Then we must find another way, that's all. +It's out of the question for you to go again just +now." + +An obstinate line appeared at the corners of his +under lip. + +"I d-don't see that it's out of the question." + +"You will see if you think about the thing +calmly for a minute. It is only five weeks since +you got back; the police are on the scent about +that pilgrim business, and scouring the country +to find a clue. Yes, I know you are clever at disguises; +but remember what a lot of people saw you, both as +Diego and as the countryman; and you can't disguise +your lameness or the scar on your face." + +"There are p-plenty of lame people in the world." + +"Yes, but there are not plenty of people in the +Romagna with a lame foot and a sabre-cut across +the cheek and a left arm injured like yours, and +the combination of blue eyes with such dark +colouring." + +"The eyes don't matter; I can alter them with +belladonna." + +"You can't alter the other things. No, it won't +do. For you to go there just now, with all your +identification-marks, would be to walk into a trap +with your eyes open. You would certainly be +taken." + +"But s-s-someone must help Domenichino." + +"It will be no help to him to have you caught +at a critical moment like this. Your arrest would +mean the failure of the whole thing." + +But the Gadfly was difficult to convince, and +the discussion went on and on without coming +nearer to any settlement. Gemma was beginning +to realize how nearly inexhaustible was the fund +of quiet obstinacy in his character; and, had the +matter not been one about which she felt strongly, +she would probably have yielded for the sake of +peace. This, however, was a case in which she +could not conscientiously give way; the practical +advantage to be gained from the proposed journey +seemed to her not sufficiently important to be +worth the risk, and she could not help suspecting +that his desire to go was prompted less by a conviction +of grave political necessity than by a morbid +craving for the excitement of danger. He had +got into the habit of risking his neck, and his tendency +to run into unnecessary peril seemed to her +a form of intemperance which should be quietly +but steadily resisted. Finding all her arguments +unavailing against his dogged resolve to go his +own way, she fired her last shot. + +"Let us be honest about it, anyway," she said; +"and call things by their true names. It is not +Domenichino's difficulty that makes you so determined +to go. It is your own personal passion for----" + +"It's not true!" he interrupted vehemently. +"He is nothing to me; I don't care if I never see +him again." + +He broke off, seeing in her face that he had +betrayed himself. Their eyes met for an instant, +and dropped; and neither of them uttered the +name that was in both their minds. + +"It--it is not Domenichino I want to save," he +stammered at last, with his face half buried in the +cat's fur; "it is that I--I understand the danger +of the work failing if he has no help." + +She passed over the feeble little subterfuge, and +went on as if there had been no interruption: + +"It is your passion for running into danger +which makes you want to go there. You have +the same craving for danger when you are worried +that you had for opium when you were ill." + +"It was not I that asked for the opium," he said +defiantly; "it was the others who insisted on giving +it to me." + +"I dare say. You plume yourself a little on +your stoicism, and to ask for physical relief would +have hurt your pride; but it is rather flattered than +otherwise when you risk your life to relieve the +irritation of your nerves. And yet, after all, the +distinction is a merely conventional one." + +He drew the cat's head back and looked down +into the round, green eyes. "Is it true, Pasht?" +he said. "Are all these unkind things true that +your mistress is s-saying about me? Is it a case +of mea culpa; mea m-maxima culpa? You wise +beast, you never ask for opium, do you? Your +ancestors were gods in Egypt, and no man t-trod +on their tails. I wonder, though, what would become +of your calm superiority to earthly ills if I +were to take this paw of yours and hold it in the +c-candle. Would you ask me for opium then? +Would you? Or perhaps--for death? No, +pussy, we have no right to die for our personal +convenience. We may spit and s-swear a bit, if +it consoles us; but we mustn't pull the paw away." + +"Hush!" She took the cat off his knee and +put it down on a footstool. "You and I will +have time for thinking about those things later +on. What we have to think of now is how to get +Domenichino out of his difficulty. What is it, +Katie; a visitor? I am busy." + +"Miss Wright has sent you this, ma'am, by +hand." + +The packet, which was carefully sealed, contained +a letter, addressed to Miss Wright, but +unopened and with a Papal stamp. Gemma's +old school friends still lived in Florence, and +her more important letters were often received, +for safety, at their address. + +"It is Michele's mark," she said, glancing +quickly over the letter, which seemed to be about +the summer-terms at a boarding house in the +Apennines, and pointing to two little blots on a +corner of the page. "It is in chemical ink; the +reagent is in the third drawer of the writing-table. +Yes; that is it." + +He laid the letter open on the desk and passed +a little brush over its pages. When the real message +stood out on the paper in a brilliant blue line, +he leaned back in his chair and burst out laughing. + +"What is it?" she asked hurriedly. He +handed her the paper. + +"DOMENICHINO HAS BEEN ARRESTED. COME AT ONCE." + +She sat down with the paper in her hand and +stared hopelessly at the Gadfly. + +"W-well?" he said at last, with his soft, ironical +drawl; "are you satisfied now that I must go?" + +"Yes, I suppose you must," she answered, sighing. +"And I too." + +He looked up with a little start. "You too? But----" + +"Of course. It will be very awkward, I know, +to be left without anyone here in Florence; but +everything must go to the wall now except the +providing of an extra pair of hands." + +"There are plenty of hands to be got there." + +"They don't belong to people whom you can +trust thoroughly, though. You said yourself just +now that there must be two responsible persons +in charge; and if Domenichino couldn't manage +alone it is evidently impossible for you to do so. +A person as desperately compromised as you are +is very much handicapped, remember, in work of +that kind, and more dependent on help than anyone +else would be. Instead of you and Domenichino, +it must be you and I." + +He considered for a moment, frowning. + +"Yes, you are quite right," he said; "and the +sooner we go the better. But we must not start +together. If I go off to-night, you can take, say, +the afternoon coach to-morrow." + +"Where to?" + +"That we must discuss. I think I had b-b-better +go straight in to Faenza. If I start late to-night +and ride to Borgo San Lorenzo I can get +my disguise arranged there and go straight on." + +"I don't see what else we can do," she said, with +an anxious little frown; "but it is very risky, your +going off in such a hurry and trusting to the smugglers +finding you a disguise at Borgo. You ought +to have at least three clear days to double on your +trace before you cross the frontier." + +"You needn't be afraid," he answered, smiling; +"I may get taken further on, but not at the frontier. +Once in the hills I am as safe as here; there's +not a smuggler in the Apennines that would betray me. +What I am not quite sure about is how you are to get across." + +"Oh, that is very simple! I shall take Louisa +Wright's passport and go for a holiday. No one +knows me in the Romagna, but every spy knows you." + +"F-fortunately, so does every smuggler." + +She took out her watch. + +"Half-past two. We have the afternoon and +evening, then, if you are to start to-night." + +"Then the best thing will be for me to go home +and settle everything now, and arrange about +a good horse. I shall ride in to San Lorenzo; it +will be safer." + +"But it won't be safe at all to hire a horse. The +owner will-----" + +"I shan't hire one. I know a man that will lend +me a horse, and that can be trusted. He has done +things for me before. One of the shepherds will +bring it back in a fortnight. I shall be here again +by five or half-past, then; and while I am gone, +I w-want you to go and find Martini and exp-plain +everything to him." + +"Martini!" She turned round and looked at +him in astonishment. + +"Yes; we must take him into confidence--unless +you can think of anyone else." + +"I don't quite understand what you mean." + +"We must have someone here whom we can +trust, in case of any special difficulty; and of all +the set here Martini is the man in whom I have +most confidence. Riccardo would do anything he +could for us, of course; but I think Martini has +a steadier head. Still, you know him better than +I do; it is as you think." + +"I have not the slightest doubt as to Martini's +trustworthiness and efficiency in every respect; and +I think he would probably consent to give us any +help he could. But----" + +He understood at once. + +"Gemma, what would you feel if you found out +that a comrade in bitter need had not asked you +for help you might have given, for fear of hurting +or distressing you? Would you say there was any +true kindness in that?" + +"Very well," she said, after a little pause; "I +will send Katie round at once and ask him to +come; and while she is gone I will go to Louisa +for her passport; she promised to lend it whenever +I want one. What about money? Shall I draw +some out of the bank?" + +"No; don't waste time on that; I can draw +enough from my account to last us for a bit. We +will fall back on yours later on if my balance runs +short. Till half-past five, then; I shall be sure to +find you here, of course?" + +"Oh, yes! I shall be back long before then." + +Half an hour after the appointed time he returned, +and found Gemma and Martini sitting on +the terrace together. He saw at once that their +conversation had been a distressing one; the traces +of agitation were visible in both of them, and Martini +was unusually silent and glum. + +"Have you arranged everything?" she asked, +looking up. + +"Yes; and I have brought you some money for +the journey. The horse will be ready for me at +the Ponte Rosso barrier at one in the night." + +"Is not that rather late? You ought to get +into San Lorenzo before the people are up in the +morning." + +"So I shall; it's a very fast horse; and I don't +want to leave here when there's a chance of anyone +noticing me. I shan't go home any more; +there's a spy watching at the door, and he thinks +me in." + +"How did you get out without his seeing +you?" + +"Out of the kitchen window into the back garden +and over the neighbour's orchard wall; that's +what makes me so late; I had to dodge him. I +left the owner of the horse to sit in the study all +the evening with the lamp lighted. When the spy +sees the light in the window and a shadow on the +blind he will be quite satisfied that I am writing +at home this evening." + +"Then you will stay here till it is time to go to +the barrier?" + +"Yes; I don't want to be seen in the street any +more to-night. Have a cigar, Martini? I know +Signora Bolla doesn't mind smoke." + +"I shan't be here to mind; I must go downstairs +and help Katie with the dinner." + +When she had gone Martini got up and began +to pace to and fro with his hands behind his back. +The Gadfly sat smoking and looking silently out +at the drizzling rain. + +"Rivarez!" Martini began, stopping in front of +him, but keeping his eyes on the ground; "what +sort of thing are you going to drag her into?" + +The Gadfly took the cigar from his mouth and +blew away a long trail of smoke. + +"She has chosen for herself," he said, "without +compulsion on anyone's part." + +"Yes, yes--I know. But tell me----" + +He stopped. + +"I will tell you anything I can." + +"Well, then--I don't know much about the +details of these affairs in the hills,--are you going +to take her into any very serious danger?" + +"Do you want the truth?" + +"Yes." + +"Then--yes." + +Martini turned away and went on pacing up and +down. Presently he stopped again. + +"I want to ask you another question. If you +don't choose to answer it, you needn't, of course; +but if you do answer, then answer honestly. Are +you in love with her?" + +The Gadfly deliberately knocked the ash from +his cigar and went on smoking in silence. + +"That means--that you don't choose to +answer?" + +"No; only that I think I have a right to know +why you ask me that." + +"Why? Good God, man, can't you see why?" + +"Ah!" He laid down his cigar and looked +steadily at Martini. "Yes," he said at last, +slowly and softly. "I am in love with her. But +you needn't think I am going to make love to +her, or worry about it. I am only going +to----" + +His voice died away in a strange, faint whisper. +Martini came a step nearer. + +"Only going--to----" + +"To die." + +He was staring straight before him with a cold, +fixed look, as if he were dead already. When he +spoke again his voice was curiously lifeless and even. + +"You needn't worry her about it beforehand," +he said; "but there's not the ghost of a chance for +me. It's dangerous for everyone; that she knows +as well as I do; but the smugglers will do their +best to prevent her getting taken. They are good +fellows, though they are a bit rough. As for me, +the rope is round my neck, and when I cross the +frontier I pull the noose." + +"Rivarez, what do you mean? Of course it's +dangerous, and particularly so for you; I understand +that; but you have often crossed the frontier +before and always been successful." + +"Yes, and this time I shall fail." + +"But why? How can you know?" + +The Gadfly smiled drearily. + +"Do you remember the German legend of the +man that died when he met his own Double? No? +It appeared to him at night in a lonely place, +wringing its hands in despair. Well, I met mine +the last time I was in the hills; and when I cross +the frontier again I shan't come back." + +Martini came up to him and put a hand on the +back of his chair. + +"Listen, Rivarez; I don't understand a word +of all this metaphysical stuff, but I do understand +one thing: If you feel about it that way, you are +not in a fit state to go. The surest way to get +taken is to go with a conviction that you will be +taken. You must be ill, or out of sorts somehow, +to get maggots of that kind into your head. Suppose +I go instead of you? I can do any practical +work there is to be done, and you can send a +message to your men, explaining------" + +"And let you get killed instead? That would +be very clever." + +"Oh, I'm not likely to get killed! They don't +know me as they do you. And, besides, even if +I did------" + +He stopped, and the Gadfly looked up with a +slow, inquiring gaze. Martini's hand dropped by +his side. + +"She very likely wouldn't miss me as much as +she would you," he said in his most matter-of-fact +voice. "And then, besides, Rivarez, this is public +business, and we have to look at it from the point +of view of utility--the greatest good of the greatest +number. Your 'final value'---isn't that what +the economists call it?--is higher than mine; I +have brains enough to see that, though I haven't +any cause to be particularly fond of you. You +are a bigger man than I am; I'm not sure that +you are a better one, but there's more of you, +and your death would be a greater loss than mine." + +From the way he spoke he might have been discussing +the value of shares on the Exchange. The +Gadfly looked up, shivering as if with cold. + +"Would you have me wait till my grave opens +of itself to swallow me up? + + + "If I must die, +I will encounter darkness as a bride---- + +Look here, Martini, you and I are talking nonsense." + +"You are, certainly," said Martini gruffly. + +"Yes, and so are you. For Heaven's sake, don't +let's go in for romantic self-sacrifice, like Don +Carlos and Marquis Posa. This is the nineteenth +century; and if it's my business to die, I have got +to do it." + +"And if it's my business to live, I have got to +do that, I suppose. You're the lucky one, +Rivarez." + +"Yes," the Gadfly assented laconically; "I was +always lucky." + +They smoked in silence for a few minutes, and +then began to talk of business details. When +Gemma came up to call them to dinner, neither +of them betrayed in face or manner that their +conversation had been in any way unusual. +After dinner they sat discussing plans and making +necessary arrangements till eleven o'clock, when +Martini rose and took his hat. + +"I will go home and fetch that riding-cloak of +mine, Rivarez. I think you will be less recognizable +in it than in your light suit. I want to +reconnoitre a bit, too, and make sure there are no +spies about before we start." + +"Are you coming with me to the barrier?" + +"Yes; it's safer to have four eyes than two in +case of anyone following you. I'll be back by +twelve. Be sure you don't start without me. I +had better take the key, Gemma, so as not to wake +anyone by ringing." + +She raised her eyes to his face as he took the +keys. She understood that he had invented a pretext +in order to leave her alone with the Gadfly. + +"You and I will talk to-morrow," she said. +"We shall have time in the morning, when my +packing is finished." + +"Oh, yes! Plenty of time. There are two or +three little things I want to ask you about, Rivarez; +but we can talk them over on our way to the +barrier. You had better send Katie to bed, +Gemma; and be as quiet as you can, both of you. +Good-bye till twelve, then." + +He went away with a little nod and smile, banging +the door after him to let the neighbours hear +that Signora Bolla's visitor was gone. + +Gemma went out into the kitchen to say good-night +to Katie, and came back with black coffee on a tray. + +"Would you like to lie down a bit?" she said. +"You won't have any sleep the rest of the night." + +"Oh, dear no! I shall sleep at San Lorenzo +while the men are getting my disguise ready." + +"Then have some coffee. Wait a minute; I +will get you out the biscuits." + +As she knelt down at the side-board he suddenly +stooped over her shoulder. + +"Whatever have you got there? Chocolate +creams and English toffee! Why, this is l-luxury +for a king!" + +She looked up, smiling faintly at his enthusiastic tone. + +"Are you fond of sweets? I always keep them +for Cesare; he is a perfect baby over any kind of +lollipops." + +"R-r-really? Well, you must get him s-some +more to-morrow and give me these to take with +me. No, let me p-p-put the toffee in my pocket; +it will console me for all the lost joys of life. I +d-do hope they'll give me a bit of toffee to suck +the day I'm hanged." + +"Oh, do let me find a cardboard box for it, at +least, before you put it in your pocket! You +will be so sticky! Shall I put the chocolates in, too?" + +"No, I want to eat them now, with you." + +"But I don't like chocolate, and I want you to +come and sit down like a reasonable human being. +We very likely shan't have another chance to talk +quietly before one or other of us is killed, and------" + +"She d-d-doesn't like chocolate!" he murmured +under his breath. "Then I must be greedy +all by myself. This is a case of the hangman's +supper, isn't it? You are going to humour all my +whims to-night. First of all, I want you to sit +on this easy-chair, and, as you said I might lie +down, I shall lie here and be comfortable." + +He threw himself down on the rug at her feet, +leaning his elbow on the chair and looking up into +her face. + +"How pale you are!" he said. "That's because +you take life sadly, and don't like chocolate----" + +"Do be serious for just five minutes! After all, +it is a matter of life and death." + +"Not even for two minutes, dear; neither life +nor death is worth it." + +He had taken hold of both her hands and was +stroking them with the tips of his fingers. + +"Don't look so grave, Minerva! You'll make +me cry in a minute, and then you'll be sorry. I do +wish you'd smile again; you have such a d-delightfully +unexpected smile. There now, don't scold +me, dear! Let us eat our biscuits together, like +two good children, without quarrelling over them +--for to-morrow we die." + +He took a sweet biscuit from the plate and +carefully halved it, breaking the sugar ornament +down the middle with scrupulous exactness. + +"This is a kind of sacrament, like what the +goody-goody people have in church. 'Take, eat; +this is my body.' And we must d-drink the wine +out of the s-s-same glass, you know--yes, that is +right. 'Do this in remembrance----'" + +She put down the glass. + +"Don't!" she said, with almost a sob. He +looked up, and took her hands again. + +"Hush, then! Let us be quiet for a little bit. +When one of us dies, the other will remember this. +We will forget this loud, insistent world that howls +about our ears; we will go away together, hand in +hand; we will go away into the secret halls of +death, and lie among the poppy-flowers. Hush! +We will be quite still." + +He laid his head down against her knee and covered +his face. In the silence she bent over him, +her hand on the black head. So the time slipped +on and on; and they neither moved nor spoke. + +"Dear, it is almost twelve," she said at last. +He raised his head. + +"We have only a few minutes more; Martini +will be back presently. Perhaps we shall never +see each other again. Have you nothing to say +to me?" + +He slowly rose and walked away to the other +side of the room. There was a moment's silence. + +"I have one thing to say," he began in a hardly +audible voice; "one thing--to tell you----" + +He stopped and sat down by the window, hiding +his face in both hands. + +"You have been a long time deciding to be +merciful," she said softly. + +"I have not seen much mercy in my life; and I +thought--at first--you wouldn't care----" + +"You don't think that now." + +She waited a moment for him to speak and then +crossed the room and stood beside him. + +"Tell me the truth at last," she whispered. +"Think, if you are killed and I not--I should have +to go through all my life and never know--never +be quite sure----" + +He took her hands and clasped them tightly. + +"If I am killed---- You see, when I went to +South America---- Ah, Martini!" + +He broke away with a violent start and threw +open the door of the room. Martini was rubbing +his boots on the mat. + +"Punctual to the m-m-minute, as usual! +You're an an-n-nimated chronometer, Martini. Is +that the r-r-riding-cloak?" + +"Yes; and two or three other things. I have +kept them as dry as I could, but it's pouring with +rain. You will have a most uncomfortable ride, +I'm afraid." + +"Oh, that's no matter. Is the street clear?" + +"Yes; all the spies seem to have gone to bed. +I don't much wonder either, on such a villainous +night. Is that coffee, Gemma? He ought to +have something hot before he goes out into the +wet, or he will catch cold." + +"It is black coffee, and very strong. I will boil +some milk." + +She went into the kitchen, passionately clenching +her teeth and hands to keep from breaking +down. When she returned with the milk the Gadfly +had put on the riding-cloak and was fastening +the leather gaiters which Martini had brought. +He drank a cup of coffee, standing, and took up +the broad-brimmed riding hat. + +"I think it's time to start, Martini; we must +make a round before we go to the barrier, in case +of anything. Good-bye, for the present, signora; +I shall meet you at Forli on Friday, then, unless +anything special turns up. Wait a minute; th-this +is the address." + +He tore a leaf out of his pocket-book and wrote +a few words in pencil. + +"I have it already," she said in a dull, quiet +voice. + +"H-have you? Well, there it is, anyway. +Come, Martini. Sh-sh-sh! Don't let the door creak!" + +They crept softly downstairs. When the street +door clicked behind them she went back into the +room and mechanically unfolded the paper he had +put into her hand. Underneath the address was +written: + +"I will tell you everything there." + + + +CHAPTER II. + +IT was market-day in Brisighella, and the country +folk had come in from the villages and hamlets +of the district with their pigs and poultry, their +dairy produce and droves of half-wild mountain +cattle. The market-place was thronged with a +perpetually shifting crowd, laughing, joking, bargaining +for dried figs, cheap cakes, and sunflower +seeds. The brown, bare-footed children sprawled, +face downward, on the pavement in the hot sun, +while their mothers sat under the trees with their +baskets of butter and eggs. + +Monsignor Montanelli, coming out to wish the +people "Good-morning," was at once surrounded +by a clamourous throng of children, holding up for +his acceptance great bunches of irises and scarlet +poppies and sweet white narcissus from the mountain +slopes. His passion for wild flowers was +affectionately tolerated by the people, as one of +the little follies which sit gracefully on very wise +men. If anyone less universally beloved had filled +his house with weeds and grasses they would have +laughed at him; but the "blessed Cardinal" could +afford a few harmless eccentricities. + +"Well, Mariuccia," he said, stopping to pat one of +the children on the head; "you have grown since I saw +you last. And how is the grandmother's rheumatism?" + +"She's been better lately, Your Eminence; but +mother's bad now." + +"I'm sorry to hear that; tell the mother to +come down here some day and see whether Dr. +Giordani can do anything for her. I will find +somewhere to put her up; perhaps the change +will do her good. You are looking better, Luigi; +how are your eyes?" + +He passed on, chatting with the mountaineers. +He always remembered the names and ages of +the children, their troubles and those of their +parents; and would stop to inquire, with sympathetic +interest, for the health of the cow that fell +sick at Christmas, or of the rag-doll that was +crushed under a cart-wheel last market-day. + +When he returned to the palace the marketing +began. A lame man in a blue shirt, with a shock +of black hair hanging into his eyes and a deep scar +across the left cheek, lounged up to one of the +booths and, in very bad Italian, asked for a drink +of lemonade. + +"You're not from these parts," said the woman +who poured it out, glancing up at him. + +"No. I come from Corsica." + +"Looking for work?" + +"Yes; it will be hay-cutting time soon, and a +gentleman that has a farm near Ravenna came +across to Bastia the other day and told me there's +plenty of work to be got there." + +"I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are +bad hereabouts." + +"They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't +know what we poor folk are coming to." + +"Have you come over alone?" + +"No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the +red shirt. Hola, Paolo!" + +Michele hearing himself called, came lounging +up with his hands in his pockets. He made a +fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig which +he had put on to render himself unrecognizable. +As for the Gadfly, he looked his part to perfection. + +They sauntered through the market-place together, +Michele whistling between his teeth, and +the Gadfly trudging along with a bundle over his +shoulder, shuffling his feet on the ground to render +his lameness less observable. They were waiting +for an emissary, to whom important directions +had to be given. + +"There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner," +Michele whispered suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying +his bundle, shuffled towards the horseman. + +"Do you happen to be wanting a hay-maker, +sir?" he said, touching his ragged cap and running +one finger along the bridle. It was the signal +agreed upon, and the rider, who from his +appearance might have been a country squire's +bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins on the +horse's neck. + +"What sort of work can you do, my man?" + +The Gadfly fumbled with his cap. + +"I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges"--he +began; and without any break in his voice, went +straight on: "At one in the morning at the +mouth of the round cave. You must have two +good horses and a cart. I shall be waiting inside +the cave---- And then I can dig, sir, and----" + +"That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. +Have you ever been out before?" + +"Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed; +we may meet a flying squadron. Don't go by the +wood-path; you're safer on the other side. If +you meet a spy, don't stop to argue with him; fire +at once---- I should be very glad of work, sir." + +"Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced +grass-cutter. No, I haven't got any coppers to-day." + +A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them, +with a doleful, monotonous whine. + +"Have pity on a poor blind man, in the name +of the Blessed Virgin------ Get out of this place at +once; there's a flying squadron coming along---- +Most Holy Queen of Heaven, Maiden undefiled-- +It's you they're after, Rivarez; they'll be here in +two minutes---- And so may the saints reward +you---- You'll have to make a dash for it; there +are spies at all the corners. It's no use trying to +slip away without being seen." + +Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand. + +"Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let +the horse go; you can hide in the ravine. We're +all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes." + +"No. I won't have you fellows taken. Stand +together, all of you, and fire after me in order. +Move up towards our horses; there they are, tethered +by the palace steps; and have your knives +ready. We retreat fighting, and when I throw +my cap down, cut the halters and jump every man +on the nearest horse. We may all reach the wood +that way." + +They had spoken in so quiet an undertone that +even the nearest bystanders had not supposed +their conversation to refer to anything more dangerous +than grass-cutting. Marcone, leading his +own mare by the bridle, walked towards the +tethered horses, the Gadfly slouching along beside +him, and the beggar following them with an outstretched +hand and a persistent whine. Michele +came up whistling; the beggar had warned him +in passing, and he quietly handed on the news to +three countrymen who were eating raw onions +under a tree. They immediately rose and followed +him; and before anyone's notice had been +attracted to them, the whole seven were standing +together by the steps of the palace, each man with +one hand on the hidden pistol, and the tethered +horses within easy reach. + +"Don't betray yourselves till I move," the Gadfly +said softly and clearly. "They may not recognize us. +When I fire, then begin in order. Don't +fire at the men; lame their horses--then they can't +follow us. Three of you fire, while the other +three reload. If anyone comes between you and +our horses, kill him. I take the roan. When I +throw down my cap, each man for himself; don't +stop for anything." + +"Here they come," said Michele; and the Gadfly +turned round, with an air of naive and stupid +wonder, as the people suddenly broke off in their +bargaining. + +Fifteen armed men rode slowly into the marketplace. +They had great difficulty to get past the +throng of people at all, and, but for the spies at +the corners of the square, all the seven conspirators +could have slipped quietly away while the +attention of the crowd was fixed upon the soldiers. +Michele moved a little closer to the Gadfly. + +"Couldn't we get away now?" + +"No; we're surrounded with spies, and one of +them has recognized me. He has just sent a man +to tell the captain where I am. Our only chance +is to lame their horses." + +"Which is the spy?" + +"The first man I fire at. Are you all ready? +They have made a lane to us; they are going to +come with a rush." + +"Out of the way there!" shouted the captain. +"In the name of His Holiness!" + +The crowd had drawn back, startled and wondering; +and the soldiers made a quick dash towards +the little group standing by the palace steps. +The Gadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired, +not at the advancing troops, but at the spy, who +was approaching the horses, and who fell back +with a broken collar-bone. Immediately after +the report, six more shots were fired in quick succession, +as the conspirators moved steadily closer +to the tethered horses. + +One of the cavalry horses stumbled and +plunged; another fell to the ground with a fearful +cry. Then, through the shrieking of the panic-stricken +people, came the loud, imperious voice of +the officer in command, who had risen in the +stirrups and was holding a sword above his head. + +"This way, men!" + +He swayed in the saddle and sank back; the +Gadfly had fired again with his deadly aim. A +little stream of blood was trickling down the captain's +uniform; but he steadied himself with a +violent effort, and, clutching at his horse's mane, +cried out fiercely: + +"Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive! +It's Rivarez!" + +"Another pistol, quick!" the Gadfly called to +his men; "and go!" + +He flung down his cap. It was only just in +time, for the swords of the now infuriated soldiers +were flashing close in front of him. + +"Put down your weapons, all of you!" + +Cardinal Montanelli had stepped suddenly between +the combatants; and one of the soldiers +cried out in a voice sharp with terror: + +"Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!" + +Montanelli only moved a step nearer, and faced +the Gadfly's pistol. + +Five of the conspirators were already on horseback +and dashing up the hilly street. Marcone +sprang on to the back of his mare. In the moment +of riding away, he glanced back to see +whether his leader was in need of help. The roan +was close at hand, and in another instant all would +have been safe; but as the figure in the scarlet +cassock stepped forward, the Gadfly suddenly +wavered and the hand with the pistol sank down. +The instant decided everything. Immediately he +was surrounded and flung violently to the ground, +and the weapon was dashed out of his hand by a +blow from the flat of a soldier's sword. Marcone +struck his mare's flank with the stirrup; the hoofs +of the cavalry horses were thundering up the hill +behind him; and it would have been worse than +useless to stay and be taken too. Turning in the +saddle as he galloped away, to fire a last shot in +the teeth of the nearest pursuer, he saw the Gadfly, +with blood on his face, trampled under the feet +of horses and soldiers and spies; and heard the +savage curses of the captors, the yells of triumph +and rage. + +Montanelli did not notice what had happened; +he had moved away from the steps, and was trying +to calm the terrified people. Presently, as he +stooped over the wounded spy, a startled movement +of the crowd made him look up. The soldiers were +crossing the square, dragging their +prisoner after them by the rope with which his +hands were tied. His face was livid with pain and +exhaustion, and he panted fearfully for breath; +but he looked round at the Cardinal, smiling with +white lips, and whispered: + +"I c-cong-gratulate your Eminence." + + . . . . . + +Five days later Martini reached Forli. He +had received from Gemma by post a bundle of +printed circulars, the signal agreed upon in case of +his being needed in any special emergency; and, +remembering the conversation on the terrace, he +guessed the truth at once. All through the journey +he kept repeating to himself that there was +no reason for supposing anything to have happened +to the Gadfly, and that it was absurd to +attach any importance to the childish superstitions +of so nervous and fanciful a person; but the +more he reasoned with himself against the idea, +the more firmly did it take possession of his mind. + +"I have guessed what it is: Rivarez is taken, of +course?" he said, as he came into Gemma's room. + +"He was arrested last Thursday, at Brisighella. +He defended himself desperately and wounded the +captain of the squadron and a spy." + +"Armed resistance; that's bad!" + +"It makes no difference; he was too deeply +compromised already for a pistol-shot more or less +to affect his position much." + +"What do you think they are going to do with +him?" + +She grew a shade paler even than before. + +"I think," she said; "that we must not wait to +find out what they mean to do." + +"You think we shall be able to effect a rescue?" + +"We MUST." + +He turned away and began to whistle, with his +hands behind his back. Gemma let him think +undisturbed. She was sitting still, leaning her +head against the back of the chair, and looking +out into vague distance with a fixed and tragic +absorption. When her face wore that expression, +it had a look of Durer's "Melancolia." + +"Have you seen him?" Martini asked, stopping +for a moment in his tramp. + +"No; he was to have met me here the next +morning." + +"Yes, I remember. Where is he?" + +"In the fortress; very strictly guarded, and, +they say, in chains." + +He made a gesture of indifference. + +"Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid +of any number of chains. If only he isn't +wounded----" + +"He seems to have been slightly hurt, but +exactly how much we don't know. I think you +had better hear the account of it from Michele +himself; he was present at the arrest." + +"How does he come not to have been taken +too? Did he run away and leave Rivarez in the +lurch?" + +"It's not his fault; he fought as long as anybody +did, and followed the directions given him to +the letter. For that matter, so did they all. The +only person who seems to have forgotten, or +somehow made a mistake at the last minute, is +Rivarez himself. There's something inexplicable +about it altogether. Wait a moment; I will call +Michele." + +She went out of the room, and presently came +back with Michele and a broad-shouldered mountaineer. + +"This is Marco," she said. "You have heard +of him; he is one of the smugglers. He has just +got here, and perhaps will be able to tell us more. +Michele, this is Cesare Martini, that I spoke to +you about. Will you tell him what happened, as +far as you saw it?" + +Michele gave a short account of the skirmish +with the squadron. + +"I can't understand how it happened," he concluded. +"Not one of us would have left him if +we had thought he would be taken; but his directions +were quite precise, and it never occurred to +us, when he threw down his cap, that he would +wait to let them surround him. He was close beside +the roan--I saw him cut the tether--and I +handed him a loaded pistol myself before I +mounted. The only thing I can suppose is that +he missed his footing,--being lame,--in trying to +mount. But even then, he could have fired." + +"No, it wasn't that," Marcone interposed. +"He didn't attempt to mount. I was the last one +to go, because my mare shied at the firing; and I +looked round to see whether he was safe. He +would have got off clear if it hadn't been for the +Cardinal." + +"Ah!" Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini +repeated in amazement: "The Cardinal?" + +"Yes; he threw himself in front of the pistol-- +confound him! I suppose Rivarez must have +been startled, for he dropped his pistol-hand and +put the other one up like this"--laying the back +of his left wrist across his eyes--"and of course +they all rushed on him." + +"I can't make that out," said Michele. "It's +not like Rivarez to lose his head at a crisis." + +"Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing +an unarmed man," Martini put in. Michele +shrugged his shoulders. + +"Unarmed men shouldn't poke their noses into +the middle of a fight. War is war. If Rivarez +had put a bullet into His Eminence, instead of letting +himself be caught like a tame rabbit, there'd +be one honest man the more and one priest the less." + +He turned away, biting his moustache. His +anger was very near to breaking down in tears. + +"Anyway," said Martini, "the thing's done, +and there's no use wasting time in discussing how +it happened. The question now is how we're to +arrange an escape for him. I suppose you're all +willing to risk it?" + +Michele did not even condescend to answer the +superfluous question, and the smuggler only remarked +with a little laugh: "I'd shoot my own brother, if he +weren't willing." + +"Very well, then---- First thing; have you +got a plan of the fortress?" + +Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several +sheets of paper. + +"I have made out all the plans. Here is the +ground floor of the fortress; here are the upper +and lower stories of the towers, and here the plan +of the ramparts. These are the roads leading to +the valley, and here are the paths and hiding-places +in the mountains, and the underground passages." + +"Do you know which of the towers he is +in?" + +"The east one, in the round room with the +grated window. I have marked it on the plan." + +"How did you get your information?" + +"From a man nicknamed 'The Cricket,' a soldier +of the guard. He is cousin to one of our men--Gino." + +"You have been quick about it." + +"There's no time to lose. Gino went into +Brisighella at once; and some of the plans we +already had. That list of hiding-places was made +by Rivarez himself; you can see by the handwriting." + +"What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?" + +"That we have not been able to find out yet; +the Cricket has only just come to the place, and +knows nothing about the other men." + +"We must find out from Gino what the Cricket +himself is like. Is anything known of the government's +intentions? Is Rivarez likely to be tried +in Brisighella or taken in to Ravenna?" + +"That we don't know. Ravenna, of course, is +the chief town of the Legation and by law cases +of importance can be tried only there, in the +Tribunal of First Instance. But law doesn't count +for much in the Four Legations; it depends on the +personal fancy of anybody who happens to be in power." + +"They won't take him in to Ravenna," Michele interposed. + +"What makes you think so?" + +"I am sure of it. Colonel Ferrari, the military +Governor at Brisighella, is uncle to the officer that +Rivarez wounded; he's a vindictive sort of brute +and won't give up a chance to spite an enemy." + +"You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?" + +"I think he will try to get him hanged." + +Martini glanced quickly at Gemma. She was +very pale, but her face had not changed at the +words. Evidently the idea was no new one to her. + +"He can hardly do that without some formality," +she said quietly; "but he might possibly +get up a court-martial on some pretext or other, +and justify himself afterwards by saying that the +peace of the town required it." + +"But what about the Cardinal? Would he +consent to things of that kind?" + +"He has no jurisdiction in military affairs." + +"No, but he has great influence. Surely the +Governor would not venture on such a step without +his consent?" + +"He'll never get that," Marcone interrupted. +"Montanelli was always against the military +commissions, and everything of the kind. So +long as they keep him in Brisighella nothing +serious can happen; the Cardinal will always take +the part of any prisoner. What I am afraid of is +their taking him to Ravenna. Once there, he's +lost." + +"We shouldn't let him get there," said Michele. +"We could manage a rescue on the road; but to +get him out of the fortress here is another +matter." + +"I think," said Gemma; "that it would be +quite useless to wait for the chance of his being +transferred to Ravenna. We must make the attempt +at Brisighella, and we have no time to lose. +Cesare, you and I had better go over the plan of +the fortress together, and see whether we can +think out anything. I have an idea in my head, +but I can't get over one point." + +"Come, Marcone," said Michele, rising; "we +will leave them to think out their scheme. I have +to go across to Fognano this afternoon, and I +want you to come with me. Vincenzo hasn't sent +those cartridges, and they ought to have been +here yesterday." + +When the two men had gone, Martini went up +to Gemma and silently held out his hand. She let +her fingers lie in his for a moment. + +"You were always a good friend, Cesare," she +said at last; "and a very present help in trouble. +And now let us discuss plans." + + + +CHAPTER III. + +"AND I once more most earnestly assure Your +Eminence that your refusal is endangering the +peace of the town." + +The Governor tried to preserve the respectful +tone due to a high dignitary of the Church; but +there was audible irritation in his voice. His liver +was out of order, his wife was running up heavy +bills, and his temper had been sorely tried during +the last three weeks. A sullen, disaffected populace, +whose dangerous mood grew daily more apparent; a +district honeycombed with plots and bristling with +hidden weapons; an inefficient garrison, of whose +loyalty he was more than doubtful, and a Cardinal +whom he had pathetically described to his adjutant +as the "incarnation of immaculate pig-headedness," +had already reduced him to the verge of desperation. +Now he was saddled with the Gadfly, an animated +quintessence of the spirit of mischief. + +Having begun by disabling both the Governor's +favourite nephew and his most valuable spy, the +"crooked Spanish devil" had followed up his +exploits in the market-place by suborning the +guards, browbeating the interrogating officers, +and "turning the prison into a bear-garden." He +had now been three weeks in the fortress, and the +authorities of Brisighella were heartily sick of their +bargain. They had subjected him to interrogation +upon interrogation; and after employing, to +obtain admissions from him, every device of threat, +persuasion, and stratagem which their ingenuity +could suggest, remained just as wise as on the day +of his capture. They had begun to realize that +it would perhaps have been better to send him into +Ravenna at once. It was, however, too late to +rectify the mistake. The Governor, when sending +in to the Legate his report of the arrest, had +begged, as a special favour, permission to superintend +personally the investigation of this case; and, +his request having been graciously acceded to, he +could not now withdraw without a humiliating +confession that he was overmatched. + +The idea of settling the difficulty by a courtmartial +had, as Gemma and Michele had foreseen, +presented itself to him as the only satisfactory +solution; and Cardinal Montanelli's stubborn refusal +to countenance this was the last drop which +made the cup of his vexations overflow. + +"I think," he said, "that if Your Eminence knew +what I and my assistants have put up with from +this man you would feel differently about the matter. +I fully understand and respect the conscientious +objection to irregularities in judicial +proceedings; but this is an exceptional case and +calls for exceptional measures." + +"There is no case," Montanelli answered, +"which calls for injustice; and to condemn a +civilian by the judgment of a secret military tribunal +is both unjust and illegal." + +"The case amounts to this, Your Eminence: +The prisoner is manifestly guilty of several capital +crimes. He joined the infamous attempt of +Savigno, and the military commission nominated +by Monsignor Spinola would certainly have had +him shot or sent to the galleys then, had he not +succeeded in escaping to Tuscany. Since that +time he has never ceased plotting. He is known +to be an influential member of one of the most +pestilent secret societies in the country. He is +gravely suspected of having consented to, if not +inspired, the assassination of no less than three +confidential police agents. He has been caught-- +one might almost say--in the act of smuggling +firearms into the Legation. He has offered armed +resistance to authority and seriously wounded two +officials in the discharge of their duty, and he is +now a standing menace to the peace and order of +the town. Surely, in such a case, a court-martial +is justifiable." + +"Whatever the man has done," Montanelli replied, +"he has the right to be judged according to law." + +"The ordinary course of law involves delay, Your +Eminence, and in this case every moment is precious. +Besides everything else, I am in constant +terror of his escaping." + +"If there is any danger of that, it rests with you +to guard him more closely." + +"I do my best, Your Eminence, but I am +dependent upon the prison staff, and the man +seems to have bewitched them all. I have +changed the guard four times within three weeks; +I have punished the soldiers till I am tired of it, +and nothing is of any use. I can't prevent their +carrying letters backwards and forwards. The +fools are in love with him as if he were a woman." + +"That is very curious. There must be something +remarkable about him." + +"There's a remarkable amount of devilry--I +beg pardon, Your Eminence, but really this man is +enough to try the patience of a saint. It's hardly +credible, but I have to conduct all the interrogations +myself, for the regular officer cannot stand +it any longer." + +"How is that?" + +"It's difficult to explain. Your Eminence, but +you would understand if you had once heard the +way he goes on. One might think the interrogating +officer were the criminal and he the judge." + +"But what is there so terrible that he can do? +He can refuse to answer your questions, of course; +but he has no weapon except silence." + +"And a tongue like a razor. We are all mortal, +Your Eminence, and most of us have made mistakes +in our time that we don't want published +on the house-tops. That's only human nature, +and it's hard on a man to have his little slips of +twenty years ago raked up and thrown in his teeth----" + +"Has Rivarez brought up some personal secret +of the interrogating officer?" + +"Well, really--the poor fellow got into debt +when he was a cavalry officer, and borrowed a little +sum from the regimental funds----" + +"Stole public money that had been intrusted to +him, in fact?" + +"Of course it was very wrong, Your Eminence; +but his friends paid it back at once, and the affair +was hushed up,--he comes of a good family,--and +ever since then he has been irreproachable. How +Rivarez found out about it I can't conceive; but +the first thing he did at interrogation was to bring +up this old scandal--before the subaltern, too! +And with as innocent a face as if he were saying +his prayers! Of course the story's all over the +Legation by now. If Your Eminence would only +be present at one of the interrogations, I am sure +you would realize---- He needn't know anything +about it. You might overhear him from------" + +Montanelli turned round and looked at the Governor +with an expression which his face did not often wear. + +"I am a minister of religion," he said; "not a +police-spy; and eavesdropping forms no part of +my professional duties." + +"I--I didn't mean to give offence------" + +"I think we shall not get any good out of +discussing this question further. If you will +send the prisoner here, I will have a talk with +him." + +"I venture very respectfully to advise Your Eminence +not to attempt it. The man is perfectly +incorrigible. It would be both safer and wiser to +overstep the letter of the law for this once, and get +rid of him before he does any more mischief. It +is with great diffidence that I venture to press the +point after what Your Eminence has said; but after +all I am responsible to Monsignor the Legate for +the order of the town------" + +"And I," Montanelli interrupted, "am responsible +to God and His Holiness that there shall +be no underhand dealing in my diocese. Since you +press me in the matter, colonel, I take my stand +upon my privilege as Cardinal. I will not allow a +secret court-martial in this town in peace-time. I +will receive the prisoner here, and alone, at ten +to-morrow morning." + +"As Your Eminence pleases," the Governor +replied with sulky respectfulness; and went away, +grumbling to himself: "They're about a pair, as +far as obstinacy goes." + +He told no one of the approaching interview till +it was actually time to knock off the prisoner's +chains and start for the palace. It was quite +enough, as he remarked to his wounded nephew, +to have this Most Eminent son of Balaam's ass +laying down the law, without running any risk of +the soldiers plotting with Rivarez and his friends +to effect an escape on the way. + +When the Gadfly, strongly guarded, entered the +room where Montanelli was writing at a table +covered with papers, a sudden recollection came +over him, of a hot midsummer afternoon when he +had sat turning over manuscript sermons in a study +much like this. The shutters had been closed, as +they were here, to keep out the heat, and a fruitseller's +voice outside had called: "Fragola! Fragola!" + +He shook the hair angrily back from his eyes +and set his mouth in a smile. + +Montanelli looked up from his papers. + +"You can wait in the hall," he said to the +guards. + +"May it please Your Eminence," began the sergeant, +in a lowered voice and with evident nervousness, +"the colonel thinks that this prisoner is +dangerous and that it would be better------" + +A sudden flash came into Montanelli's eyes. + +"You can wait in the hall," he repeated quietly; +and the sergeant, saluting and stammering excuses +with a frightened face, left the room with his men. + +"Sit down, please," said the Cardinal, when the +door was shut. The Gadfly obeyed in silence. + +"Signor Rivarez," Montanelli began after a +pause, "I wish to ask you a few questions, and +shall be very much obliged to you if you will +answer them." + +The Gadfly smiled. "My ch-ch-chief occupation +at p-p-present is to be asked questions." + +"And--not to answer them? So I have heard; +but these questions are put by officials who are +investigating your case and whose duty is to use +your answers as evidence." + +"And th-those of Your Eminence?" There +was a covert insult in the tone more than in the +words, and the Cardinal understood it at once; but +his face did not lose its grave sweetness of +expression. + +"Mine," he said, "whether you answer them +or not, will remain between you and me. If they +should trench upon your political secrets, of course +you will not answer. Otherwise, though we are +complete strangers to each other, I hope that you +will do so, as a personal favour to me." + +"I am ent-t-tirely at the service of Your Eminence." +He said it with a little bow, and a face +that would have taken the heart to ask favours out +of the daughters of the horse-leech. + +"First, then, you are said to have been smuggling +firearms into this district. What are they +wanted for?" + +"T-t-to k-k-kill rats with." + +"That is a terrible answer. Are all your fellow-men +rats in your eyes if they cannot think as you do?" + +"S-s-some of them." + +Montanelli leaned back in his chair and looked +at him in silence for a little while. + +"What is that on your hand?" he asked +suddenly. + +The Gadfly glanced at his left hand. "Old +m-m-marks from the teeth of some of the rats." + +"Excuse me; I was speaking of the other +hand. That is a fresh hurt." + +The slender, flexible right hand was badly cut +and grazed. The Gadfly held it up. The wrist +was swollen, and across it ran a deep and long +black bruise. + +"It is a m-m-mere trifle, as you see," he said. +"When I was arrested the other day,--thanks to +Your Eminence,"--he made another little bow,-- +"one of the soldiers stamped on it." + +Montanelli took the wrist and examined it +closely. "How does it come to be in such a state +now, after three weeks?" he asked. "It is all +inflamed." + +"Possibly the p-p-pressure of the iron has not +done it much good." + +The Cardinal looked up with a frown. + +"Have they been putting irons on a fresh +wound?" + +"N-n-naturally, Your Eminence; that is what +fresh wounds are for. Old wounds are not much +use. They will only ache; you c-c-can't make +them burn properly." + +Montanelli looked at him again in the same +close, scrutinizing way; then rose and opened a +drawer full of surgical appliances. + +"Give me the hand," he said. + +The Gadfly, with a face as hard as beaten iron, +held out the hand, and Montanelli, after bathing +the injured place, gently bandaged it. Evidently +he was accustomed to such work. + +"I will speak about the irons," he said. "And +now I want to ask you another question: What do +you propose to do?" + +"Th-th-that is very simply answered, Your Eminence. +To escape if I can, and if I can't, to die." + +"Why 'to die'?" + +"Because if the Governor doesn't succeed in +getting me shot, I shall be sent to the galleys, and +for me that c-c-comes to the same thing. I have +not got the health to live through it." + +Montanelli rested his arm on the table and +pondered silently. The Gadfly did not disturb +him. He was leaning back with half-shut eyes, +lazily enjoying the delicious physical sensation of +relief from the chains. + +"Supposing," Montanelli began again, "that +you were to succeed in escaping; what should you +do with your life?" + +"I have already told Your Eminence; I should +k-k-kill rats." + +"You would kill rats. That is to say, that if I +were to let you escape from here now,--supposing +I had the power to do so,--you would use your +freedom to foster violence and bloodshed instead +of preventing them?" + +The Gadfly raised his eyes to the crucifix on the +wall. "'Not peace, but a sword';--at l-least I +should be in good company. For my own part, +though, I prefer pistols." + +"Signor Rivarez," said the Cardinal with unruffled +composure, "I have not insulted you as +yet, or spoken slightingly of your beliefs or friends. +May I not expect the same courtesy from you, or +do you wish me to suppose that an atheist cannot +be a gentleman?" + +"Ah, I q-quite forgot. Your Eminence places +courtesy high among the Christian virtues. I remember +your sermon in Florence, on the occasion +of my c-controversy with your anonymous defender." + +"That is one of the subjects about which I +wished to speak to you. Would you mind +explaining to me the reason of the peculiar bitterness +you seem to feel against me? If you have +simply picked me out as a convenient target, that +is another matter. Your methods of political controversy +are your own affair, and we are not discussing politics +now. But I fancied at the time that there was some +personal animosity towards me; and if so, I should be +glad to know whether I have ever done you wrong or in +any way given you cause for such a feeling." + +Ever done him wrong! The Gadfly put up the +bandaged hand to his throat. "I must refer Your +Eminence to Shakspere," he said with a little +laugh. "It's as with the man who can't endure +a harmless, necessary cat. My antipathy is a +priest. The sight of the cassock makes my +t-t-teeth ache." + +"Oh, if it is only that----" Montanelli dismissed +the subject with an indifferent gesture. + +"Still," he added, "abuse is one thing and perversion +of fact is another. When you stated, in +answer to my sermon, that I knew the identity +of the anonymous writer, you made a mistake,--I +do not accuse you of wilful falsehood,--and stated +what was untrue. I am to this day quite ignorant +of his name." + +The Gadfly put his head on one side, like an +intelligent robin, looked at him for a moment +gravely, then suddenly threw himself back and +burst into a peal of laughter. + +"S-s-sancta simplicitas! Oh, you, sweet, innocent, +Arcadian people--and you never guessed! +You n-never saw the cloven hoof?" + +Montanelli stood up. "Am I to understand, +Signor Rivarez, that you wrote both sides of the +controversy yourself?" + +"It was a shame, I know," the Gadfly answered, +looking up with wide, innocent blue eyes. "And +you s-s-swallowed everything whole; just as if it +had been an oyster. It was very wrong; but oh, +it w-w-was so funny!" + +Montanelli bit his lip and sat down again. He +had realized from the first that the Gadfly was trying +to make him lose his temper, and had resolved +to keep it whatever happened; but he was beginning +to find excuses for the Governor's exasperation. +A man who had been spending two hours +a day for the last three weeks in interrogating the +Gadfly might be pardoned an occasional swear-word. + +"We will drop that subject," he said quietly. +"What I wanted to see you for particularly is this: +My position here as Cardinal gives me some voice, +if I choose to claim my privilege, in the question +of what is to be done with you. The only use to +which I should ever put such a privilege would be +to interfere in case of any violence to you which +was not necessary to prevent you from doing violence +to others. I sent for you, therefore, partly +in order to ask whether you have anything to +complain of,--I will see about the irons; but perhaps +there is something else,--and partly because +I felt it right, before giving my opinion, to see for +myself what sort of man you are." + +"I have nothing to complain of, Your Eminence. +'A la guerre comme a la guerre.' I am +not a schoolboy, to expect any government to pat +me on the head for s-s-smuggling firearms onto its +territory. It's only natural that they should hit +as hard as they can. As for what sort of man I +am, you have had a romantic confession of my sins +once. Is not that enough; or w-w-would you like +me to begin again?" + +"I don't understand you," Montanelli said +coldly, taking up a pencil and twisting it between +his fingers. + +"Surely Your Eminence has not forgotten old Diego, +the pilgrim?" He suddenly changed his voice and began +to speak as Diego: "I am a miserable sinner------" + +The pencil snapped in Montanelli's hand. +"That is too much!" he said. + +The Gadfly leaned his head back with a soft little +laugh, and sat watching while the Cardinal +paced silently up and down the room. + +"Signor Rivarez," said Montanelli, stopping at +last in front of him, "you have done a thing to me +that a man who was born of a woman should hesitate +to do to his worst enemy. You have stolen +in upon my private grief and have made for +yourself a mock and a jest out of the sorrow of a +fellow-man. I once more beg you to tell me: +Have I ever done you wrong? And if not, why +have you played this heartless trick on me?" + +The Gadfly, leaning back against the chair-cushions, +looked up with his subtle, chilling, inscrutable smile + +"It am-m-mused me, Your Eminence; you took +it all so much to heart, and it rem-m-minded me-- +a little bit--of a variety show----" + +Montanelli, white to the very lips, turned away +and rang the bell. + +"You can take back the prisoner," he said when +the guards came in. + +After they had gone he sat down at the table, +still trembling with unaccustomed indignation, +and took up a pile of reports which had been sent +in to him by the parish priests of his diocese. + +Presently he pushed them away, and, leaning on +the table, hid his face in both hands. The Gadfly +seemed to have left some terrible shadow of himself, +some ghostly trail of his personality, to haunt +the room; and Montanelli sat trembling and +cowering, not daring to look up lest he should see +the phantom presence that he knew was not there. +The spectre hardly amounted to a hallucination. +It was a mere fancy of overwrought nerves; but +he was seized with an unutterable dread of its +shadowy presence--of the wounded hand, the +smiling, cruel mouth, the mysterious eyes, like +deep sea water---- + +He shook off the fancy and settled to his work. +All day long he had scarcely a free moment, and +the thing did not trouble him; but going into his +bedroom late at night, he stopped on the threshold +with a sudden shock of fear. What if he +should see it in a dream? He recovered himself +immediately and knelt down before the crucifix +to pray. + +But he lay awake the whole night through. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MONTANELLI'S anger did not make him neglectful +of his promise. He protested so emphatically +against the manner in which the Gadfly had been +chained that the unfortunate Governor, who by +now was at his wit's end, knocked off all the fetters +in the recklessness of despair. "How am I +to know," he grumbled to the adjutant, "what +His Eminence will object to next? If he calls a +simple pair of handcuffs 'cruelty,' he'll be exclaiming +against the window-bars presently, or wanting +me to feed Rivarez on oysters and truffles. In my +young days malefactors were malefactors and +were treated accordingly, and nobody thought a +traitor any better than a thief. But it's the fashion +to be seditious nowadays; and His Eminence +seems inclined to encourage all the scoundrels in +the country." + +"I don't see what business he has got to interfere +at all," the adjutant remarked. "He is not +a Legate and has no authority in civil and military +affairs. By law------" + +"What is the use of talking about law? You +can't expect anyone to respect laws after the Holy +Father has opened the prisons and turned the +whole crew of Liberal scamps loose on us! It's +a positive infatuation! Of course Monsignor +Montanelli will give himself airs; he was quiet +enough under His Holiness the late Pope, but he's +cock of the walk now. He has jumped into +favour all at once and can do as he pleases. How +am I to oppose him? He may have secret authorization +from the Vatican, for all I know. Everything's +topsy-turvy now; you can't tell from day +to day what may happen next. In the good old +times one knew what to be at, but nowadays------" + +The Governor shook his head ruefully. A +world in which Cardinals troubled themselves over +trifles of prison discipline and talked about the +"rights" of political offenders was a world that +was growing too complex for him. + +The Gadfly, for his part, had returned to the fortress +in a state of nervous excitement bordering +on hysteria. The meeting with Montanelli had +strained his endurance almost to breaking-point; +and his final brutality about the variety show had +been uttered in sheer desperation, merely to cut +short an interview which, in another five minutes, +would have ended in tears. + +Called up for interrogation in the afternoon of +the same day, he did nothing but go into convulsions +of laughter at every question put to him; +and when the Governor, worried out of all +patience, lost his temper and began to swear, he +only laughed more immoderately than ever. The +unlucky Governor fumed and stormed and threatened +his refractory prisoner with impossible punishments; +but finally came, as James Burton had +come long ago, to the conclusion that it was mere +waste of breath and temper to argue with a person +in so unreasonable a state of mind. + +The Gadfly was once more taken back to his cell; +and there lay down upon the pallet, in the mood +of black and hopeless depression which always succeeded +to his boisterous fits. He lay till evening +without moving, without even thinking; he had +passed, after the vehement emotion of the morning, +into a strange, half-apathetic state, in which +his own misery was hardly more to him than a dull +and mechanical weight, pressing on some wooden +thing that had forgotten to be a soul. In truth, +it was of little consequence how all ended; the one +thing that mattered to any sentient being was to +be spared unbearable pain, and whether the relief +came from altered conditions or from the deadening +of the power to feel, was a question of no moment. +Perhaps he would succeed in escaping; +perhaps they would kill him; in any case he +should never see the Padre again, and it was all +vanity and vexation of spirit. + +One of the warders brought in supper, and the +Gadfly looked up with heavy-eyed indifference. + +"What time is it?" + +"Six o'clock. Your supper, sir." + +He looked with disgust at the stale, foul-smelling, +half-cold mess, and turned his head away. +He was feeling bodily ill as well as depressed; and +the sight of the food sickened him. + +"You will be ill if you don't eat," said the soldier +hurriedly. "Take a bit of bread, anyway; it'll do you good." + +The man spoke with a curious earnestness of +tone, lifting a piece of sodden bread from the plate +and putting it down again. All the conspirator +awoke in the Gadfly; he had guessed at once that +there was something hidden in the bread. + +"You can leave it; I'll eat a bit by and by," he +said carelessly. The door was open, and he knew +that the sergeant on the stairs could hear every +word spoken between them. + +When the door was locked on him again, and +he had satisfied himself that no one was watching +at the spy-hole, he took up the piece of bread and +carefully crumbled it away. In the middle was +the thing he had expected, a bundle of small files. +It was wrapped in a bit of paper, on which a few +words were written. He smoothed the paper out +carefully and carried it to what little light there +was. The writing was crowded into so narrow a +space, and on such thin paper, that it was very +difficult to read. + + +"The door is unlocked, and there is no moon. +Get the filing done as fast as possible, and come +by the passage between two and three. We are +quite ready and may not have another chance." + + +He crushed the paper feverishly in his hand. +All the preparations were ready, then, and he had +only to file the window bars; how lucky it was +that the chains were off! He need not stop about +filing them. How many bars were there? Two, +four; and each must be filed in two places: eight. +Oh, he could manage that in the course of the +night if he made haste---- How had Gemma +and Martini contrived to get everything ready +so quickly--disguises, passports, hiding-places? +They must have worked like cart-horses to do +it---- And it was her plan that had been +adopted after all. He laughed a little to himself +at his own foolishness; as if it mattered whether +the plan was hers or not, once it was a good one! +And yet he could not help being glad that it was +she who had struck on the idea of his utilizing the +subterranean passage, instead of letting himself +down by a rope-ladder, as the smugglers had at +first suggested. Hers was the more complex +and difficult plan, but did not involve, as the other +did, a risk to the life of the sentinel on duty outside +the east wall. Therefore, when the two +schemes had been laid before him, he had unhesitatingly +chosen Gemma's. + +The arrangement was that the friendly guard +who went by the nickname of "The Cricket" +should seize the first opportunity of unlocking, +without the knowledge of his fellows, the iron gate +leading from the courtyard into the subterranean +passage underneath the ramparts, and should then +replace the key on its nail in the guard-room. +The Gadfly, on receiving information of this, was +to file through the bars of his window, tear his +shirt into strips and plait them into a rope, by +means of which he could let himself down on to +the broad east wall of the courtyard. Along this +wall he was to creep on hands and knees while the +sentinel was looking in the opposite direction, lying +flat upon the masonry whenever the man turned +towards him. At the southeast corner was a half-ruined +turret. It was upheld, to some extent, by +a thick growth of ivy; but great masses of crumbling +stone had fallen inward and lay in the courtyard, +heaped against the wall. From this turret +he was to climb down by the ivy and the heaps of +stone into the courtyard; and, softly opening the +unlocked gate, to make his way along the passage +to a subterranean tunnel communicating with it. +Centuries ago this tunnel had formed a secret corridor +between the fortress and a tower on the +neighbouring hill; now it was quite disused and +blocked in many places by the falling in of the +rocks. No one but the smugglers knew of a certain +carefully-hidden hole in the mountain-side +which they had bored through to the tunnel; no +one suspected that stores of forbidden merchandise +were often kept, for weeks together, under +the very ramparts of the fortress itself, while the +customs-officers were vainly searching the houses +of the sullen, wrathful-eyed mountaineers. At +this hole the Gadfly was to creep out on to the +hillside, and make his way in the dark to a lonely +spot where Martini and a smuggler would be +waiting for him. The one great difficulty was +that opportunities to unlock the gate after the +evening patrol did not occur every night, and the +descent from the window could not be made in +very clear weather without too great a risk of +being observed by the sentinel. Now that there +was really a fair chance of success, it must not be +missed. + +He sat down and began to eat some of the +bread. It at least did not disgust him like the +rest of the prison food, and he must eat something +to keep up his strength. + +He had better lie down a bit, too, and try to +get a little sleep; it would not be safe to begin +filing before ten o'clock, and he would have a hard +night's work. + +And so, after all, the Padre had been thinking +of letting him escape! That was like the Padre. +But he, for his part, would never consent to it. +Anything rather than that! If he escaped, it +should be his own doing and that of his comrades; +he would have no favours from priests. + +How hot it was! Surely it must be going to +thunder; the air was so close and oppressive. He +moved restlessly on the pallet and put the bandaged +right hand behind his head for a pillow; +then drew it away again. How it burned and +throbbed! And all the old wounds were beginning +to ache, with a dull, faint persistence. What +was the matter with them? Oh, absurd! It was +only the thundery weather. He would go to +sleep and get a little rest before beginning his +filing. + +Eight bars, and all so thick and strong! How +many more were there left to file? Surely not +many. He must have been filing for hours,-- +interminable hours--yes, of course, that was what +made his arm ache---- And how it ached; right +through to the very bone! But it could hardly be +the filing that made his side ache so; and the +throbbing, burning pain in the lame leg--was +that from filing? + +He started up. No, he had not been asleep; he +had been dreaming with open eyes--dreaming of +filing, and it was all still to do. There stood the +window-bars, untouched, strong and firm as ever. +And there was ten striking from the clock-tower +in the distance. He must get to work. + +He looked through the spy-hole, and, seeing +that no one was watching, took one of the files +from his breast. + + . . . . . + +No, there was nothing the matter with him-- +nothing! It was all imagination. The pain in +his side was indigestion, or a chill, or some such +thing; not much wonder, after three weeks of +this insufferable prison food and air. As for the +aching and throbbing all over, it was partly nervous +trouble and partly want of exercise. Yes, +that was it, no doubt; want of exercise. How +absurd not to have thought of that before! + +He would sit down a little bit, though, and let +it pass before he got to work. It would be sure +to go over in a minute or two. + +To sit still was worse than all. When he sat +still he was at its mercy, and his face grew gray +with fear. No, he must get up and set to work, +and shake it off. It should depend upon his will +to feel or not to feel; and he would not feel, he +would force it back. + +He stood up again and spoke to himself, aloud +and distinctly: + +"I am not ill; I have no time to be ill. I have +those bars to file, and I am not going to be ill." + +Then he began to file. + +A quarter-past ten--half-past ten--a quarter to +eleven---- He filed and filed, and every grating +scrape of the iron was as though someone were filing +on his body and brain. "I wonder which will +be filed through first," he said to himself with a +little laugh; "I or the bars?" And he set his +teeth and went on filing. + +Half-past eleven. He was still filing, though +the hand was stiff and swollen and would hardly +grasp the tool. No, he dared not stop to rest; +if he once put the horrible thing down he should +never have the courage to begin again. + +The sentinel moved outside the door, and the +butt end of his carbine scratched against the lintel. +The Gadfly stopped and looked round, the file still +in his lifted hand. Was he discovered? + +A little round pellet had been shot through the +spy-hole and was lying on the floor. He laid down +the file and stooped to pick up the round thing. +It was a bit of rolled paper. + + . . . . . + +It was a long way to go down and down, with +the black waves rushing about him--how they +roared----! + +Ah, yes! He was only stooping down to pick +up the paper. He was a bit giddy; many people +are when they stoop. There was nothing the +matter with him--nothing. + +He picked it up, carried it to the light, and +unfolded it steadily. + + +"Come to-night, whatever happens; the Cricket +will be transferred to-morrow to another service. +This is our only chance." + + +He destroyed the paper as he had done the +former one, picked up his file again, and went +back to work, dogged and mute and desperate. + +One o'clock. He had been working for three +hours now, and six of the eight bars were filed. +Two more, and then, to climb------ + +He began to recall the former occasions when +these terrible attacks had come on. The last had +been the one at New Year; and he shuddered as +he remembered those five nights. But that time +it had not come on so suddenly; he had never +known it so sudden. + +He dropped the file and flung out both hands +blindly, praying, in his utter desperation, for the +first time since he had been an atheist; praying +to anything--to nothing--to everything. + +"Not to-night! Oh, let me be ill to-morrow! +I will bear anything to-morrow--only not to-night!" + +He stood still for a moment, with both hands +up to his temples; then he took up the file once +more, and once more went back to his work. + +Half-past one. He had begun on the last bar. +His shirt-sleeve was bitten to rags; there was +blood on his lips and a red mist before his eyes, +and the sweat poured from his forehead as he filed, +and filed, and filed---- + + . . . . . + +After sunrise Montanelli fell asleep. He was +utterly worn out with the restless misery of the +night and slept for a little while quietly; then he +began to dream. + +At first he dreamed vaguely, confusedly; broken +fragments of images and fancies followed each +other, fleeting and incoherent, but all filled with +the same dim sense of struggle and pain, the same +shadow of indefinable dread. Presently he began +to dream of sleeplessness; the old, frightful, familiar +dream that had been a terror to him for +years. And even as he dreamed he recognized +that he had been through it all before. + +He was wandering about in a great empty place, +trying to find some quiet spot where he could lie +down and sleep. Everywhere there were people, +walking up and down; talking, laughing, shouting; +praying, ringing bells, and clashing metal instruments +together. Sometimes he would get away +to a little distance from the noise, and would lie +down, now on the grass, now on a wooden bench, +now on some slab of stone. He would shut his +eyes and cover them with both hands to keep out +the light; and would say to himself: "Now I +will get to sleep." Then the crowds would come +sweeping up to him, shouting, yelling, calling him +by name, begging him: "Wake up! Wake up, +quick; we want you!" + +Again: he was in a great palace, full of gorgeous +rooms, with beds and couches and low soft +lounges. It was night, and he said to himself: +"Here, at last, I shall find a quiet place to sleep." +But when he chose a dark room and lay down, +someone came in with a lamp, flashing the merciless +light into his eyes, and said: "Get up; you are wanted." + +He rose and wandered on, staggering and stumbling +like a creature wounded to death; and heard +the clocks strike one, and knew that half the night +was gone already--the precious night that was so +short. Two, three, four, five--by six o'clock the +whole town would wake up and there would be +no more silence. + +He went into another room and would have lain +down on a bed, but someone started up from the +pillows, crying out: "This bed is mine!" and he +shrank away with despair in his heart. + +Hour after hour struck, and still he wandered +on and on, from room to room, from house to +house, from corridor to corridor. The horrible +gray dawn was creeping near and nearer; the +clocks were striking five; the night was gone and +he had found no rest. Oh, misery! Another day +--another day! + +He was in a long, subterranean corridor, a low, +vaulted passage that seemed to have no end. It +was lighted with glaring lamps and chandeliers; +and through its grated roof came the sounds of +dancing and laughter and merry music. Up there, +in the world of the live people overhead, there +was some festival, no doubt. Oh, for a place +to hide and sleep; some little place, were it even +a grave! And as he spoke he stumbled over an +open grave. An open grave, smelling of death +and rottenness---- Ah, what matter, so he could +but sleep! + +"This grave is mine!" It was Gladys; and she +raised her head and stared at him over the rotting +shroud. Then he knelt down and stretched out +his arms to her. + +"Gladys! Gladys! Have a little pity on me; +let me creep into this narrow space and sleep. I +do not ask you for your love; I will not touch you, +will not speak to you; only let me lie down beside +you and sleep! Oh, love, it is so long since I have +slept! I cannot bear another day. The light +glares in upon my soul; the noise is beating my +brain to dust. Gladys, let me come in here and +sleep!" + +And he would have drawn her shroud across his +eyes. But she shrank away, screaming: + +"It is sacrilege; you are a priest!" + +On and on he wandered, and came out upon the +sea-shore, on the barren rocks where the fierce +light struck down, and the water moaned its low, +perpetual wail of unrest. "Ah!" he said; "the +sea will be more merciful; it, too, is wearied unto +death and cannot sleep." + +Then Arthur rose up from the deep, and cried +aloud: + +"This sea is mine!" + + . . . . . + +"Your Eminence! Your Eminence!" + +Montanelli awoke with a start. His servant +was knocking at the door. He rose mechanically +and opened it, and the man saw how wild and +scared he looked. + +"Your Eminence--are you ill?" + +He drew both hands across his forehead. + +"No; I was asleep, and you startled me." + +"I am very sorry; I thought I had heard you +moving early this morning, and I supposed------" + +"Is it late now?" + +"It is nine o'clock, and the Governor has called. +He says he has very important business, and knowing +Your Eminence to be an early riser------" + +"Is he downstairs? I will come presently." + +He dressed and went downstairs. + +"I am afraid this is an unceremonious way to +call upon Your Eminence," the Governor began. + +"I hope there is nothing the matter?" + +"There is very much the matter. Rivarez has +all but succeeded in escaping." + +"Well, so long as he has not quite succeeded +there is no harm done. How was it?" + +"He was found in the courtyard, right against +the little iron gate. When the patrol came in to +inspect the courtyard at three o'clock this morning +one of the men stumbled over something on +the ground; and when they brought the light up +they found Rivarez lying across the path unconscious. +They raised an alarm at once and called +me up; and when I went to examine his cell I +found all the window-bars filed through and a rope +made of torn body-linen hanging from one of +them. He had let himself down and climbed along +the wall. The iron gate, which leads into the +subterranean tunnels, was found to be unlocked. +That looks as if the guards had been suborned." + +"But how did he come to be lying across the +path? Did he fall from the rampart and hurt +himself?" + +"That is what I thought at first. Your Eminence; +but the prison surgeon can't find any trace +of a fall. The soldier who was on duty yesterday +says that Rivarez looked very ill last night when +he brought in the supper, and did not eat anything. +But that must be nonsense; a sick man couldn't +file those bars through and climb along that roof. +It's not in reason." + +"Does he give any account of himself?" + +"He is unconscious, Your Eminence." + +"Still?" + +"He just half comes to himself from time to +time and moans, and then goes off again." + +"That is very strange. What does the doctor +think?" + +"He doesn't know what to think. There is no +trace of heart-disease that he can find to account +for the thing; but whatever is the matter with +him, it is something that must have come on +suddenly, just when he had nearly managed to +escape. For my part, I believe he was struck +down by the direct intervention of a merciful +Providence." + +Montanelli frowned slightly. + +"What are you going to do with him?" he +asked. + +"That is a question I shall settle in a very few +days. In the meantime I have had a good lesson. +That is what comes of taking off the irons--with +all due respect to Your Eminence." + +"I hope," Montanelli interrupted, "that you +will at least not replace the fetters while he is ill. +A man in the condition you describe can hardly +make any more attempts to escape." + +"I shall take good care he doesn't," the Governor +muttered to himself as he went out. "His +Eminence can go hang with his sentimental scruples +for all I care. Rivarez is chained pretty tight +now, and is going to stop so, ill or not." + + . . . . . + +"But how can it have happened? To faint +away at the last moment, when everything was +ready; when he was at the very gate! It's like +some hideous joke." + +"I tell you," Martini answered, "the only thing +I can think of is that one of these attacks must +have come on, and that he must have struggled +against it as long as his strength lasted and have +fainted from sheer exhaustion when he got down +into the courtyard." + +Marcone knocked the ashes savagely from his +pipe. + +"Well. anyhow, that's the end of it; we can't +do anything for him now, poor fellow." + +"Poor fellow!" Martini echoed, under his +breath. He was beginning to realise that to him, +too, the world would look empty and dismal without +the Gadfly. + +"What does she think?" the smuggler asked, +glancing towards the other end of the room, where +Gemma sat alone, her hands lying idly in her lap, +her eyes looking straight before her into blank +nothingness. + +"I have not asked her; she has not spoken since +I brought her the news. We had best not disturb +her just yet." + +She did not appear to be conscious of their presence, +but they both spoke with lowered voices, as though +they were looking at a corpse. After a dreary little +pause, Marcone rose and put away his pipe. + +"I will come back this evening," he said; but +Martini stopped him with a gesture. + +"Don't go yet; I want to speak to you." He +dropped his voice still lower and continued in +almost a whisper: + +"Do you believe there is really no hope?" + +"I don't see what hope there can be now. We +can't attempt it again. Even if he were well +enough to manage his part of the thing, we +couldn't do our share. The sentinels are all being +changed, on suspicion. The Cricket won't get +another chance, you may be sure." + +"Don't you think," Martini asked suddenly; +"that, when he recovers, something might be +done by calling off the sentinels?" + +"Calling off the sentinels? What do you +mean?" + +"Well, it has occurred to me that if I were to +get in the Governor's way when the procession +passes close by the fortress on Corpus Domini day +and fire in his face, all the sentinels would come +rushing to get hold of me, and some of you fellows +could perhaps help Rivarez out in the confusion. +It really hardly amounts to a plan; it only came +into my head." + +"I doubt whether it could be managed," Marcone +answered with a very grave face. "Certainly it +would want a lot of thinking out for +anything to come of it. But"--he stopped and +looked at Martini--"if it should be possible-- +would you do it?" + +Martini was a reserved man at ordinary times; +but this was not an ordinary time. He looked +straight into the smuggler's face. + +"Would I do it?" he repeated. "Look at her!" + +There was no need for further explanations; +in saying that he had said all. Marcone turned +and looked across the room. + +She had not moved since their conversation +began. There was no doubt, no fear, even no +grief in her face; there was nothing in it but the +shadow of death. The smuggler's eyes filled with +tears as he looked at her. + +"Make haste, Michele!" he said, throwing open +the verandah door and looking out. "Aren't you +nearly done, you two? There are a hundred and +fifty things to do!" + +Michele, followed by Gino, came in from the +verandah. + +"I am ready now," he said. "I only want to +ask the signora----" + +He was moving towards her when Martini +caught him by the arm. + +"Don't disturb her; she's better alone." + +"Let her be!" Marcone added. "We shan't do +any good by meddling. God knows, it's hard enough +on all of us; but it's worse for her, poor soul!" + + + +CHAPTER V. + +FOR a week the Gadfly lay in a fearful state. +The attack was a violent one, and the Governor, +rendered brutal by fear and perplexity, had not +only chained him hand and foot, but had insisted +on his being bound to his pallet with leather +straps, drawn so tight that he could not move +without their cutting into the flesh. He endured +everything with his dogged, bitter stoicism till the +end of the sixth day. Then his pride broke down, +and he piteously entreated the prison doctor for a +dose of opium. The doctor was quite willing to +give it; but the Governor, hearing of the request, +sharply forbade "any such foolery." + +"How do you know what he wants it for?" he +said. "It's just as likely as not that he's shamming +all the time and wants to drug the sentinel, +or some such devilry. Rivarez is cunning enough +for anything." + +"My giving him a dose would hardly help him +to drug the sentinel," replied the doctor, unable +to suppress a smile. "And as for shamming-- +there's not much fear of that. He is as likely as +not to die." + +"Anyway, I won't have it given. If a man +wants to be tenderly treated, he should behave +accordingly. He has thoroughly deserved a little +sharp discipline. Perhaps it will be a lesson to +him not to play tricks with the window-bars again." + +"The law does not admit of torture, though," +the doctor ventured to say; "and this is coming +perilously near it." + +"The law says nothing about opium, I think," +said the Governor snappishly. + +"It is for you to decide, of course, colonel; but +I hope you will let the straps be taken off at +any rate. They are a needless aggravation of +his misery. There's no fear of his escaping now. +He couldn't stand if you let him go free." + +"My good sir, a doctor may make a mistake +like other people, I suppose. I have got him safe +strapped now, and he's going to stop so." + +"At least, then, have the straps a little loosened. +It is downright barbarity to keep them drawn so tight." + +"They will stop exactly as they are; and I will +thank you, sir, not to talk about barbarity to me. +If I do a thing, I have a reason for it." + +So the seventh night passed without any relief, +and the soldier stationed on guard at the cell door +crossed himself, shuddering, over and over again, +as he listened all night long to heart-rending +moans. The Gadfly's endurance was failing him +at last. + +At six in the morning the sentinel, just before +going off duty, unlocked the door softly and entered +the cell. He knew that he was committing +a serious breach of discipline, but could not bear +to go away without offering the consolation of +a friendly word. + +He found the Gadfly lying still, with closed eyes +and parted lips. He stood silent for a moment; +then stooped down and asked: + +"Can I do anything for you, sir? I have only +a minute." + +The Gadfly opened his eyes. "Let me alone!" +he moaned. "Let me alone----" + +He was asleep almost before the soldier had +slipped back to his post. + +Ten days afterwards the Governor called again +at the palace, but found that the Cardinal had +gone to visit a sick man at Pieve d'Ottavo, and +was not expected home till the afternoon. That +evening, just as he was sitting down to dinner, his +servant came in to announce: + +"His Eminence would like to speak to you." + +The Governor, with a hasty glance into the +looking glass, to make sure that his uniform was +in order, put on his most dignified air, and +went into the reception room, where Montanelli +was sitting, beating his hand gently on the arm +of the chair and looking out of the window with +an anxious line between his brows. + +"I heard that you called to-day," he said, cutting +short the Governor's polite speeches with +a slightly imperious manner which he never +adopted in speaking to the country folk. "It was +probably on the business about which I have been +wishing to speak to you." + +"It was about Rivarez, Your Eminence." + +"So I supposed. I have been thinking the matter +over these last few days. But before we go +into that, I should like to hear whether you have +anything new to tell me." + +The Governor pulled his moustaches with an +embarrassed air. + +"The fact is, I came to know whether Your +Eminence had anything to tell me. If you still +have an objection to the course I proposed taking, +I should be sincerely glad of your advice in +the matter; for, honestly, I don't know what +to do." + +"Is there any new difficulty?" + +"Only that next Thursday is the 3d of June, +--Corpus Domini,--and somehow or other the +matter must be settled before then." + +"Thursday is Corpus Domini, certainly; but +why must it be settled especially before then?" + +"I am exceedingly sorry, Your Eminence, if I +seem to oppose you, but I can't undertake to be +responsible for the peace of the town if Rivarez is +not got rid of before then. All the roughest set +in the hills collects here for that day, as Your Eminence +knows, and it is more than probable that +they may attempt to break open the fortress gates +and take him out. They won't succeed; I'll +take care of that, if I have to sweep them from the +gates with powder and shot. But we are very +likely to have something of that kind before the +day is over. Here in the Romagna there is bad +blood in the people, and when once they get out +their knives----" + +"I think with a little care we can prevent matters +going as far as knives. I have always found +the people of this district easy to get on with, if +they are reasonably treated. Of course, if you +once begin to threaten or coerce a Romagnol he +becomes unmanageable. But have you any reason for +supposing a new rescue scheme is intended?" + +"I heard, both this morning and yesterday, +from confidential agents of mine, that a great +many rumours are circulating all over the district +and that the people are evidently up to some mischief +or other. But one can't find out the details; +if one could it would be easier to take precautions. +And for my part, after the fright we had +the other day, I prefer to be on the safe side. +With such a cunning fox as Rivarez one can't be +too careful." + +"The last I heard about Rivarez was that he was +too ill to move or speak. Is he recovering, then?" + +"He seems much better now, Your Eminence. +He certainly has been very ill--unless he was +shamming all the time." + +"Have you any reason for supposing that +likely?" + +"Well, the doctor seems convinced that it was +all genuine; but it's a very mysterious kind of illness. +Any way, he is recovering, and more intractable than ever." + +"What has he done now?" + +"There's not much he can do, fortunately," +the Governor answered, smiling as he remembered +the straps. "But his behaviour is something indescribable. +Yesterday morning I went into the +cell to ask him a few questions; he is not well +enough yet to come to me for interrogation--and +indeed, I thought it best not to run any risk of +the people seeing him until he recovers. Such +absurd stories always get about at once." + +"So you went there to interrogate him?" + +"Yes, Your Eminence. I hoped he would be +more amenable to reason now." + +Montanelli looked him over deliberately, almost +as if he had been inspecting a new and disagreeable +animal. Fortunately, however, the Governor +was fingering his sword-belt, and did not see the +look. He went on placidly: + +"I have not subjected him to any particular +severities, but I have been obliged to be rather +strict with him--especially as it is a military +prison--and I thought that perhaps a little indulgence +might have a good effect. I offered to +relax the discipline considerably if he would behave +in a reasonable manner; and how does Your +Eminence suppose he answered me? He lay looking +at me a minute, like a wolf in a cage, and then +said quite softly: 'Colonel, I can't get up and +strangle you; but my teeth are pretty good; you +had better take your throat a little further off.' +He is as savage as a wild-cat." + +"I am not surprised to hear it," Montanelli +answered quietly. "But I came to ask you a +question. Do you honestly believe that the presence +of Rivarez in the prison here constitutes a +serious danger to the peace of the district?" + +"Most certainly I do, Your Eminence." + +"You think that, to prevent the risk of bloodshed, +it is absolutely necessary that he should +somehow be got rid of before Corpus Domini?" + +"I can only repeat that if he is here on Thursday, +I do not expect the festival to pass over without +a fight, and I think it likely to be a serious one." + +"And you think that if he were not here there +would be no such danger?" + +"In that case, there would either be no disturbance +at all, or at most a little shouting and stone-throwing. +If Your Eminence can find some way +of getting rid of him, I will undertake that the +peace shall be kept. Otherwise, I expect most +serious trouble. I am convinced that a new rescue +plot is on hand, and Thursday is the day when we +may expect the attempt. Now, if on that very +morning they suddenly find that he is not in the +fortress at all, their plan fails of itself, and they +have no occasion to begin fighting. But if we +have to repulse them, and the daggers once get +drawn among such throngs of people, we are +likely to have the place burnt down before nightfall." + +"Then why do you not send him in to Ravenna?" + +"Heaven knows, Your Eminence, I should be +thankful to do it! But how am I to prevent the +people rescuing him on the way? I have not soldiers +enough to resist an armed attack; and all +these mountaineers have got knives or flint-locks +or some such thing." + +"You still persist, then, in wishing for a court-martial, +and in asking my consent to it?" + +"Pardon me, Your Eminence; I ask you only +one thing--to help me prevent riots and bloodshed. +I am quite willing to admit that the military +commissions, such as that of Colonel Freddi, +were sometimes unnecessarily severe, and irritated +instead of subduing the people; but I think that +in this case a court-martial would be a wise measure +and in the long run a merciful one. It would +prevent a riot, which in itself would be a terrible +disaster, and which very likely might cause a return +of the military commissions His Holiness has abolished." + +The Governor finished his little speech with +much solemnity, and waited for the Cardinal's +answer. It was a long time coming; and when +it came was startlingly unexpected. + +"Colonel Ferrari, do you believe in God?" + +"Your Eminence!" the colonel gasped in a +voice full of exclamation-stops. + +"Do you believe in God?" Montanelli repeated, +rising and looking down at him with steady, +searching eyes. The colonel rose too. + +"Your Eminence, I am a Christian man, and +have never yet been refused absolution." + +Montanelli lifted the cross from his breast. + +"Then swear on the cross of the Redeemer Who +died for you, that you have been speaking the +truth to me." + +The colonel stood still and gazed at it blankly. +He could not quite make up his mind which was +mad, he or the Cardinal. + +"You have asked me," Montanelli went on, +"to give my consent to a man's death. Kiss the +cross, if you dare, and tell me that you believe +there is no other way to prevent greater bloodshed. +And remember that if you tell me a lie you +are imperilling your immortal soul." + +After a little pause, the Governor bent down +and put the cross to his lips. + +"I believe it," he said. + +Montanelli turned slowly away. + +"I will give you a definite answer to-morrow. +But first I must see Rivarez and speak to him +alone." + +"Your Eminence--if I might suggest--I am +sure you will regret it. For that matter, he sent +me a message yesterday, by the guard, asking to +see Your Eminence; but I took no notice of it, +because----" + +"Took no notice!" Montanelli repeated. "A +man in such circumstances sent you a message, +and you took no notice of it?" + +"I am sorry if Your Eminence is displeased. I +did not wish to trouble you over a mere impertinence +like that; I know Rivarez well enough by +now to feel sure that he only wanted to insult +you. And, indeed, if you will allow me to say so, +it would be most imprudent to go near him alone; +he is really dangerous--so much so, in fact, that +I have thought it necessary to use some physical +restraint of a mild kind------" + +"And you really think there is much danger to +be apprehended from one sick and unarmed man, +who is under physical restraint of a mild kind?" +Montanelli spoke quite gently, but the colonel felt +the sting of his quiet contempt, and flushed under +it resentfully. + +"Your Eminence will do as you think best," he +said in his stiffest manner. "I only wished to +spare you the pain of hearing this man's awful +blasphemies." + +"Which do you think the more grievous misfortune +for a Christian man; to hear a blasphemous +word uttered, or to abandon a fellow-creature in +extremity?" + +The Governor stood erect and stiff, with his official +face, like a face of wood. He was deeply +offended at Montanelli's treatment of him, and +showed it by unusual ceremoniousness. + +"At what time does Your Eminence wish to +visit the prisoner?" he asked. + +"I will go to him at once." + +"As Your Eminence pleases. If you will kindly wait a +few moments, I will send someone to prepare him." + +The Governor had come down from his official +pedestal in a great hurry. He did not want Montanelli +to see the straps. + +"Thank you; I would rather see him as he is, +without preparation. I will go straight up to the +fortress. Good-evening, colonel; you may expect +my answer to-morrow morning." + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +HEARING the cell-door unlocked, the Gadfly +turned away his eyes with languid indifference. +He supposed that it was only the Governor, coming +to worry him with another interrogation. +Several soldiers mounted the narrow stair, their +carbines clanking against the wall; then a deferential +voice said: "It is rather steep here, Your Eminence." + +He started convulsively, and then shrank down, +catching his breath under the stinging pressure of +the straps. + +Montanelli came in with the sergeant and three +guards. + +"If Your Eminence will kindly wait a moment," +the sergeant began nervously, "one of my men +will bring a chair. He has just gone to fetch it. +Your Eminence will excuse us--if we had been expecting +you, we should have been prepared." + +"There is no need for any preparation. Will +you kindly leave us alone, sergeant; and wait at +the foot of the stairs with your men?" + +"Yes, Your Eminence. Here is the chair; shall +I put it beside him?" + +The Gadfly was lying with closed eyes; but he +felt that Montanelli was looking at him. + +"I think he is asleep, Your Eminence," the sergeant +was beginning, but the Gadfly opened his eyes. + +"No," he said. + +As the soldiers were leaving the cell they were +stopped by a sudden exclamation from Montanelli; +and, turning back, saw that he was bending +down to examine the straps. + +"Who has been doing this?" he asked. The +sergeant fumbled with his cap. + +"It was by the Governor's express orders, Your +Eminence." + +"I had no idea of this, Signer Rivarez," Montanelli +said in a voice of great distress. + +"I told Your Eminence," the Gadfly answered, +with his hard smile, "that I n-n-never expected to +be patted on the head." + +"Sergeant, how long has this been going on?" + +"Since he tried to escape, Your Eminence." + +"That is, nearly a week? Bring a knife and cut +these off at once." + +"May it please Your Eminence, the doctor +wanted to take them off, but Colonel Ferrari +wouldn't allow it." + +"Bring a knife at once." Montanelli had not +raised his voice, but the soldiers could see that he +was white with anger. The sergeant took a clasp-knife +from his pocket, and bent down to cut the +arm-strap. He was not a skilful-fingered man; +and he jerked the strap tighter with an awkward +movement, so that the Gadfly winced and bit his +lip in spite of all his self-control. Montanelli came +forward at once. + +"You don't know how to do it; give me the +knife." + +"Ah-h-h!" The Gadfly stretched out his arms +with a long, rapturous sigh as the strap fell off. +The next instant Montanelli had cut the other +one, which bound his ankles. + +"Take off the irons, too, sergeant; and then +come here. I want to speak to you." + +He stood by the window, looking on, till the +sergeant threw down the fetters and approached him. + +"Now," he said, "tell me everything that has +been happening." + +The sergeant, nothing loath, related all that he +knew of the Gadfly's illness, of the "disciplinary +measures," and of the doctor's unsuccessful attempt +to interfere. + +"But I think, Your Eminence," he added, +"that the colonel wanted the straps kept on as a +means of getting evidence." + +"Evidence?" + +"Yes, Your Eminence; the day before yesterday +I heard him offer to have them taken off if +he"--with a glance at the Gadfly--"would answer +a question he had asked." + +Montanelli clenched his hand on the window-sill, +and the soldiers glanced at one another: they +had never seen the gentle Cardinal angry before. +As for the Gadfly, he had forgotten their existence; +he had forgotten everything except the +physical sensation of freedom. He was cramped +in every limb; and now stretched, and turned, and +twisted about in a positive ecstasy of relief. + +"You can go now, sergeant," the Cardinal said. +"You need not feel anxious about having committed +a breach of discipline; it was your duty to +tell me when I asked you. See that no one disturbs +us. I will come out when I am ready." + +When the door had closed behind the soldiers, +he leaned on the window-sill and looked for a while +at the sinking sun, so as to leave the Gadfly a little +more breathing time. + +"I have heard," he said presently, leaving the +window, and sitting down beside the pallet, "that +you wish to speak to me alone. If you feel well +enough to tell me what you wanted to say, I am +at your service." + +He spoke very coldly, with a stiff, imperious +manner that was not natural to him. Until the +straps were off, the Gadfly was to him simply a +grievously wronged and tortured human being; +but now he recalled their last interview, and the +deadly insult with which it had closed. The Gadfly +looked up, resting his head lazily on one arm. +He possessed the gift of slipping into graceful attitudes; +and when his face was in shadow no one +would have guessed through what deep waters he +had been passing. But, as he looked up, the clear +evening light showed how haggard and colourless +he was, and how plainly the trace of the last few +days was stamped on him. Montanelli's anger +died away. + +"I am afraid you have been terribly ill," he said. +"I am sincerely sorry that I did not know of all +this. I would have put a stop to it before." + +The Gadfly shrugged his shoulders. "All's fair +in war," he said coolly. "Your Eminence objects +to straps theoretically, from the Christian standpoint; +but it is hardly fair to expect the colonel +to see that. He, no doubt, would prefer not to +try them on his own skin--which is j-j-just my +case. But that is a matter of p-p-personal convenience. +At this moment I am undermost-- +w-w-what would you have? It is very kind of +Your Eminence, though, to call here; but perhaps +that was done from the C-c-christian standpoint, +too. Visiting prisoners--ah, yes! I forgot. +'Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the l-least of +these'--it's not very complimentary, but one of +the least is duly grateful." + +"Signor Rivarez," the Cardinal interrupted, "I +have come here on your account--not on my own. +If you had not been 'undermost,' as you call it, I +should never have spoken to you again after what +you said to me last week; but you have the double +privilege of a prisoner and a sick man, and I could +not refuse to come. Have you anything to say +to me, now I am here; or have you sent for me +merely to amuse yourself by insulting an old man?" + +There was no answer. The Gadfly had turned. +away, and was lying with one hand across his eyes. + +"I am--very sorry to trouble you," he said at +last, huskily; "but could I have a little water?" + +There was a jug of water standing by the window, +and Montanelli rose and fetched it. As he +slipped his arm round the Gadfly to lift him, he +suddenly felt the damp, cold fingers close over +his wrist like a vice. + +"Give me your hand--quick--just a moment," +the Gadfly whispered. "Oh, what difference does +it make to you? Only one minute!" + +He sank down, hiding his face on Montanelli's +arm, and quivering from head to foot. + +"Drink a little water," Montanelli said after a +moment. The Gadfly obeyed silently; then lay +back on the pallet with closed eyes. He himself +could have given no explanation of what had happened +to him when Montanelli's hand had touched +his cheek; he only knew that in all his life there +had been nothing more terrible. + +Montanelli drew his chair closer to the pallet +and sat down. The Gadfly was lying quite motionless, +like a corpse, and his face was livid and +drawn. After a long silence, he opened his eyes, +and fixed their haunting, spectral gaze on the Cardinal. + +"Thank you," he said. "I--am sorry. I think +--you asked me something?" + +"You are not fit to talk. If there is anything +you want to say to me, I will try to come again +to-morrow." + +"Please don't go, Your Eminence--indeed, +there is nothing the matter with me. I--I have +been a little upset these few days; it was half of +it malingering, though--the colonel will tell you +so if you ask him." + +"I prefer to form my own conclusions," Montanelli +answered quietly. + +"S-so does the colonel. And occasionally, do +you know, they are rather witty. You w-w-wouldn't +think it to look at him; but s-s-sometimes he +gets hold of an or-r-riginal idea. On +Friday night, for instance--I think it was Friday, +but I got a l-little mixed as to time towards the +end--anyhow, I asked for a d-dose of opium--I +remember that quite distinctly; and he came in +here and said I m-might h-h-have it if I would +tell him who un-l-l-locked the gate. I remember +his saying: 'If it's real, you'll consent; if you +don't, I shall look upon it as a p-proof that you are +shamming.' It n-n-never oc-c-curred to me before +how comic that is; it's one of the f-f-funniest things----" + +He burst into a sudden fit of harsh, discordant +laughter; then, turning sharply on the silent Cardinal, +went on, more and more hurriedly, and +stammering so that the words were hardly intelligible: + +"You d-d-don't see that it's f-f-funny? Of +c-course not; you r-religious people n-n-never have +any s-sense of humour--you t-take everything +t-t-tragically. F-for instance, that night in the +Cath-thedral--how solemn you were! By the way +--w-what a path-thetic figure I must have c-cut +as the pilgrim! I d-don't believe you e-even see +anything c-c-comic in the b-business you have +c-come about this evening." + +Montanelli rose. + +"I came to hear what you have to say; but I +think you are too much excited to say it to-night. +The doctor had better give you a sedative, and we +will talk to-morrow, when you have had a night's +sleep." + +"S-sleep? Oh, I shall s-sleep well enough, Your +Eminence, when you g-give your c-consent to the +colonel's plan--an ounce of l-lead is a s-splendid +sedative." + +"I don't understand you," Montanelli said, +turning to him with a startled look. + +The Gadfly burst out laughing again. + +"Your Eminence, Your Eminence, t-t-truth +is the c-chief of the Christian virtues! D-d-do +you th-th-think I d-d-don't know how hard the +Governor has been trying to g-get your consent to +a court-martial? You had b-better by half g-give +it, Your Eminence; it's only w-what all your +b-brother prelates would do in your place. 'Cosi +fan tutti;' and then you would be doing s-such a +lot of good, and so l-little harm! Really, it's n-not +worth all the sleepless nights you have been spending +over it!" + +"Please stop laughing a minute," Montanelli +interrupted, "and tell me how you heard all this. +Who has been talking to you about it?" + +"H-hasn't the colonel e-e-ever told you I am +a d-d-devil--not a man? No? He has t-told me +so often enough! Well, I am devil enough to +f-find out a little bit what p-people are thinking +about. Your E-eminence is thinking that I'm a +conf-founded nuisance, and you wish s-somebody +else had to settle what's to be done with me, without +disturbing your s-sensitive conscience. That's +a p-pretty fair guess, isn't it?" + +"Listen to me," the Cardinal said, sitting down +again beside him, with a very grave face. "However +you found out all this, it is quite true. +Colonel Ferrari fears another rescue attempt on +the part of your friends, and wishes to forestall it +in--the way you speak of. You see, I am quite +frank with you." + +"Your E-eminence was always f-f-famous for +truthfulness," the Gadfly put in bitterly. + +"You know, of course," Montanelli went on, +"that legally I have no jurisdiction in temporal +matters; I am a bishop, not a legate. But I have +a good deal of influence in this district; and the +colonel will not, I think, venture to take so extreme +a course unless he can get, at least, my tacit +consent to it. Up till now I have unconditionally +opposed the scheme; and he has been trying +very hard to conquer my objection by assuring me +that there is great danger of an armed attempt +on Thursday when the crowd collects for the procession +--an attempt which probably would end +in bloodshed. Do you follow me?" + +The Gadfly was staring absently out of the +window. He looked round and answered in a +weary voice: + +"Yes, I am listening." + +"Perhaps you are really not well enough to +stand this conversation to-night. Shall I come +back in the morning? It is a very serious matter, +and I want your whole attention." + +"I would rather get it over now," the Gadfly +answered in the same tone. "I follow everything +you say." + +"Now, if it be true," Montanelli went on, "that +there is any real danger of riots and bloodshed on +account of you, I am taking upon myself a tremendous +responsibility in opposing the colonel; +and I believe there is at least some truth in what +he says. On the other hand, I am inclined to +think that his judgment is warped, to a certain +extent, by his personal animosity against you, and +that he probably exaggerates the danger. That +seems to me the more likely since I have seen this +shameful brutality." He glanced at the straps and +chains lying on the floor, and went on: + +"If I consent, I kill you; if I refuse, I run the +risk of killing innocent persons. I have considered +the matter earnestly, and have sought with +all my heart for a way out of this dreadful alternative. +And now at last I have made up my mind." + +"To kill me and s-save the innocent persons, +of course--the only decision a Christian man +could possibly come to. 'If thy r-right hand +offend thee,' etc. I have n-not the honour to be +the right hand of Your Eminence, and I have +offended you; the c-c-conclusion is plain. Couldn't +you tell me that without so much preamble?" + +The Gadfly spoke with languid indifference and +contempt, like a man weary of the whole subject. + +"Well?" he added after a little pause. "Was +that the decision, Your Eminence?" + +"No." + +The Gadfly shifted his position, putting both +hands behind his head, and looked at Montanelli +with half-shut eyes. The Cardinal, with his head +sunk down as in deep thought, was softly beating +one hand on the arm of his chair. Ah, that old, +familiar gesture! + +"I have decided," he said, raising his head at +last, "to do, I suppose, an utterly unprecedented +thing. When I heard that you had asked to see +me, I resolved to come here and tell you everything, +as I have done, and to place the matter in +your own hands." + +"In--my hands?" + +"Signor Rivarez, I have not come to you as +cardinal, or as bishop, or as judge; I have come +to you as one man to another. I do not ask you +to tell me whether you know of any such scheme +as the colonel apprehends. I understand quite +well that, if you do, it is your secret and you will +not tell it. But I do ask you to put yourself in +my place. I am old, and, no doubt, have not much +longer to live. I would go down to my grave +without blood on my hands." + +"Is there none on them as yet, Your Eminence?" + +Montanelli grew a shade paler, but went on +quietly: + +"All my life I have opposed repressive measures +and cruelty wherever I have met with them. +I have always disapproved of capital punishment +in all its forms; I have protested earnestly and +repeatedly against the military commissions in the +last reign, and have been out of favour on account +of doing so. Up till now such influence and power +as I have possessed have always been employed on +the side of mercy. I ask you to believe me, at +least, that I am speaking the truth. Now, I am +placed in this dilemma. By refusing, I am exposing +the town to the danger of riots and all their +consequences; and this to save the life of a man +who blasphemes against my religion, who has +slandered and wronged and insulted me personally +(though that is comparatively a trifle), and +who, as I firmly believe, will put that life to a bad +use when it is given to him. But--it is to save a +man's life." + +He paused a moment, and went on again: + +"Signor Rivarez, everything that I know of +your career seems to me bad and mischievous; and +I have long believed you to be reckless and violent +and unscrupulous. To some extent I hold that +opinion of you still. But during this last fortnight +you have shown me that you are a brave +man and that you can be faithful to your friends. +You have made the soldiers love and admire you, +too; and not every man could have done that. I +think that perhaps I have misjudged you, and that +there is in you something better than what you +show outside. To that better self in you I appeal, +and solemnly entreat you, on your conscience, to +tell me truthfully--in my place, what would you do?" + +A long silence followed; then the Gadfly looked up. + +"At least, I would decide my own actions for +myself, and take the consequences of them. I +would not come sneaking to other people, in the +cowardly Christian way, asking them to solve my +problems for me!" + +The onslaught was so sudden, and its extraordinary +vehemence and passion were in such startling +contrast to the languid affectation of a +moment before, that it was as though he had +thrown off a mask. + +"We atheists," he went on fiercely, "understand +that if a man has a thing to bear, he must +bear it as best he can; and if he sinks under it-- +why, so much the worse for him. But a Christian +comes whining to his God, or his saints; or, if they +won't help him, to his enemies--he can always +find a back to shift his burdens on to. Isn't there +a rule to go by in your Bible, or your Missal, or +any of your canting theology books, that you +must come to me to tell you what to do? +Heavens and earth, man! Haven't I enough as +it is, without your laying your responsibilities on +my shoulders? Go back to your Jesus; he exacted +the uttermost farthing, and you'd better do +the same. After all, you'll only be killing an +atheist--a man who boggles over 'shibboleth'; and +that's no great crime, surely!" + +He broke off, panting for breath, and then +burst out again: + +"And YOU to talk of cruelty! Why, that +p-p-pudding-headed ass couldn't hurt me as much as you +do if he tried for a year; he hasn't got the brains. +All he can think of is to pull a strap tight, and +when he can't get it any tighter he's at the end +of his resources. Any fool can do that! But +you---- 'Sign your own death sentence, please; +I'm too tender-hearted to do it myself.' Oh! it +would take a Christian to hit on that--a gentle, +compassionate Christian, that turns pale at the +sight of a strap pulled too tight! I might have +known when you came in, like an angel of mercy-- +so shocked at the colonel's 'barbarity'--that the +real thing was going to begin! Why do you look +at me that way? Consent, man, of course, and +go home to your dinner; the thing's not worth all +this fuss. Tell your colonel he can have me shot, +or hanged, or whatever comes handiest--roasted +alive, if it's any amusement to him--and be done +with it!" + +The Gadfly was hardly recognizable; he was +beside himself with rage and desperation, panting +and quivering, his eyes glittering with green reflections +like the eyes of an angry cat. + +Montanelli had risen, and was looking down at +him silently. He did not understand the drift of +the frenzied reproaches, but he understood out of +what extremity they were uttered; and, understanding +that, forgave all past insults. + +"Hush!" he said. "I did not want to hurt you +so. Indeed, I never meant to shift my burden +on to you, who have too much already. I have +never consciously done that to any living creature----" + +"It's a lie!" the Gadfly cried out with blazing +eyes. "And the bishopric?" + +"The--bishopric?" + +"Ah! you've forgotten that? It's so easy to +forget! 'If you wish it, Arthur, I will say I cannot +go. I was to decide your life for you--I, at +nineteen! If it weren't so hideous, it would be funny." + +"Stop!" Montanelli put up both hands to his +head with a desperate cry. He let them fall again, +and walked slowly away to the window. There he +sat down on the sill, resting one arm on the bars, +and pressing his forehead against it. The Gadfly +lay and watched him, trembling. + +Presently Montanelli rose and came back, with +lips as pale as ashes. + +"I am very sorry," he said, struggling piteously +to keep up his usual quiet manner, "but I must +go home. I--am not quite well." + +He was shivering as if with ague. All the Gadfly's +fury broke down. + +"Padre, can't you see----" + +Montanelli shrank away, and stood still. + +"Only not that!" he whispered at last. "My +God, anything but that! If I am going mad----" + +The Gadfly raised himself on one arm, and took +the shaking hands in his. + +"Padre, will you never understand that I am +not really drowned?" + +The hands grew suddenly cold and stiff. For a +moment everything was dead with silence, and +then Montanelli knelt down and hid his face on +the Gadfly's breast. + + . . . . . + +When he raised his head the sun had set, and +the red glow was dying in the west. They had +forgotten time and place, and life and death; they +had forgotten, even, that they were enemies. + +"Arthur," Montanelli whispered, "are you +real? Have you come back to me from the dead?" + +"From the dead----" the Gadfly repeated, +shivering. He was lying with his head on Montanelli's +arm, as a sick child might lie in its mother's embrace. + +"You have come back--you have come back +at last!" + +The Gadfly sighed heavily. "Yes," he said; +"and you have to fight me, or to kill me." + +"Oh, hush, carino! What is all that now? We +have been like two children lost in the dark, +mistaking one another for phantoms. Now we have +found each other, and have come out into the +light. My poor boy, how changed you are--how +changed you are! You look as if all the ocean of +the world's misery had passed over your head-- +you that used to be so full of the joy of life! +Arthur, is it really you? I have dreamed so often +that you had come back to me; and then have +waked and seen the outer darkness staring in +upon an empty place. How can I know I shall +not wake again and find it all a dream? Give +me something tangible--tell me how it all happened." + +"It happened simply enough. I hid on a goods +vessel, as stowaway, and got out to South America." + +"And there?" + +"There I--lived, if you like to call it so, till-- +oh, I have seen something else besides theological +seminaries since you used to teach me philosophy! +You say you have dreamed of me--yes, and +much! You say you have dreamed of me--yes, +and I of you----" + +He broke off, shuddering. + +"Once," he began again abruptly, "I was working +at a mine in Ecuador----" + +"Not as a miner?" + +"No, as a miner's fag--odd-jobbing with the +coolies. We had a barrack to sleep in at the pit's +mouth; and one night--I had been ill, the same +as lately, and carrying stones in the blazing +sun--I must have got light-headed, for I saw you +come in at the door-way. You were holding a +crucifix like that one on the wall. You were praying, +and brushed past me without turning. I +cried out to you to help me--to give me poison or +a knife--something to put an end to it all before I +went mad. And you--ah------!" + +He drew one hand across his eyes. Montanelli +was still clasping the other. + +"I saw in your face that you had heard, but you +never looked round; you went on with your prayers. +When you had finished, and kissed the crucifix, +you glanced round and whispered: 'I am +very sorry for you, Arthur; but I daren't show it; +He would be angry.' And I looked at Him, and +the wooden image was laughing. + +"Then, when I came to my senses, and saw the +barrack and the coolies with their leprosy, I understood. +I saw that you care more to curry favour +with that devilish God of yours than to save me +from any hell. And I have remembered that. I +forgot just now when you touched me; I--have +been ill, and I used to love you once. But there +can be nothing between us but war, and war, +and war. What do you want to hold my hand for? +Can't you see that while you believe in your Jesus +we can't be anything but enemies?" + +Montanelli bent his head and kissed the mutilated hand. + +"Arthur, how can I help believing in Him? If +I have kept my faith through all these frightful +years, how can I ever doubt Him any more, now +that He has given you back to me? Remember, +I thought I had killed you." + +"You have that still to do." + +"Arthur!" It was a cry of actual terror; but +the Gadfly went on, unheeding: + +"Let us be honest, whatever we do, and not +shilly-shally. You and I stand on two sides of a +pit, and it's hopeless trying to join hands across +it. If you have decided that you can't, or won't, +give up that thing"--he glanced again at the +crucifix on the wall--"you must consent to what +the colonel----" + +"Consent! My God--consent--Arthur, but I +love you!" + +The Gadfly's face contracted fearfully. + +"Which do you love best, me or that thing?" + +Montanelli slowly rose. The very soul in him +withered with dread, and he seemed to shrivel up +bodily, and to grow feeble, and old, and wilted, +like a leaf that the frost has touched. He had +awaked out of his dream, and the outer darkness +was staring in upon an empty place. + +"Arthur, have just a little mercy on me----" + +"How much had you for me when your lies +drove me out to be slave to the blacks on the +sugar-plantations? You shudder at that--ah, +these tender-hearted saints! This is the man +after God's own heart--the man that repents of +his sin and lives. No one dies but his son. You +say you love me,--your love has cost me dear +enough! Do you think I can blot out everything, +and turn back into Arthur at a few soft +words--I, that have been dish-washer in filthy +half-caste brothels and stable-boy to Creole farmers +that were worse brutes than their own cattle? +I, that have been zany in cap and bells for +a strolling variety show--drudge and Jack-of-all-trades +to the matadors in the bull-fighting +ring; I, that have been slave to every black +beast who cared to set his foot on my neck; +I, that have been starved and spat upon and +trampled under foot; I, that have begged for +mouldy scraps and been refused because the dogs +had the first right? Oh, what is the use of all this! +How can I TELL you what you have brought on me? +And now--you love me! How much do you love +me? Enough to give up your God for me? Oh, +what has He done for you, this everlasting Jesus, +--what has He suffered for you, that you should +love Him more than me? Is it for the pierced +hands He is so dear to you? Look at mine! +Look here, and here, and here----" + +He tore open his shirt and showed the ghastly scars. + +"Padre, this God of yours is an impostor, His +wounds are sham wounds, His pain is all a farce! +It is I that have the right to your heart! Padre, +there is no torture you have not put me to; if +you could only know what my life has been! And +yet I would not die! I have endured it all, and +have possessed my soul in patience, because I +would come back and fight this God of yours. I +have held this purpose as a shield against my +heart, and it has saved me from madness, and from +the second death. And now, when I come back, +I find Him still in my place--this sham victim that +was crucified for six hours, forsooth, and rose +again from the dead! Padre, I have been crucified +for five years, and I, too, have risen from the +dead. What are you going to do with me? +What are you going to do with me?" + +He broke down. Montanelli sat like some +stone image, or like a dead man set upright. At +first, under the fiery torrent of the Gadfly's despair, +he had quivered a little, with the automatic +shrinking of the flesh, as under the lash +of a whip; but now he was quite still. After a +long silence he looked up and spoke, lifelessly, +patiently: + +"Arthur, will you explain to me more clearly? +You confuse and terrify me so, I can't understand. +What is it you demand of me?" + +The Gadfly turned to him a spectral face. + +"I demand nothing. Who shall compel love? +You are free to choose between us two the one +who is most dear to you. If you love Him best, +choose Him." + +"I can't understand," Montanelli repeated +wearily. "What is there I can choose? I cannot +undo the past." + +"You have to choose between us. If you love +me, take that cross off your neck and come away +with me. My friends are arranging another +attempt, and with your help they could manage +it easily. Then, when we are safe over the frontier, +acknowledge me publicly. But if you don't +love me enough for that,--if this wooden idol is +more to you than I,--then go to the colonel and +tell him you consent. And if you go, then go at +once, and spare me the misery of seeing you. I +have enough without that." + +Montanelli looked up, trembling faintly. He +was beginning to understand. + +"I will communicate with your friends, of +course. But--to go with you--it is impossible-- +I am a priest." + +"And I accept no favours from priests. I will +have no more compromises, Padre; I have had +enough of them, and of their consequences. You +must give up your priesthood, or you must give +up me." + +"How can I give you up? Arthur, how can I +give you up?" + +"Then give up Him. You have to choose between +us. Would you offer me a share of your +love--half for me, half for your fiend of a God? +I will not take His leavings. If you are His, you +are not mine." + +"Would you have me tear my heart in two? +Arthur! Arthur! Do you want to drive me +mad?" + +The Gadfly struck his hand against the wall. + +"You have to choose between us," he repeated +once more. + +Montanelli drew from his breast a little case +containing a bit of soiled and crumpled paper. + +"Look!" he said. + + +"I believed in you, as I believed in God. God is +a thing made of clay, that I can smash with a hammer; +and you have fooled me with a lie." + + +The Gadfly laughed and handed it back. "How +d-d-delightfully young one is at nineteen! To +take a hammer and smash things seems so easy. +It's that now--only it's I that am under the hammer. +As for you, there are plenty of other people +you can fool with lies--and they won't even find +you out." + +"As you will," Montanelli said. "Perhaps in +your place I should be as merciless as you--God +knows. I can't do what you ask, Arthur; but I +will do what I can. I will arrange your escape, +and when you are safe I will have an accident in +the mountains, or take the wrong sleeping-draught +by mistake--whatever you like to choose. +Will that content you? It is all I can do. It is a +great sin; but I think He will forgive me. He is +more merciful------" + +The Gadfly flung out both hands with a sharp cry. + +"Oh, that is too much! That is too much! +What have I done that you should think of me +that way? What right have you---- As if I +wanted to be revenged on you! Can't you see +that I only want to save you? Will you never +understand that I love you?" + +He caught hold of Montanelli's hands and +covered them with burning kisses and tears. + +"Padre, come away with us! What have you +to do with this dead world of priests and idols? +They are full of the dust of bygone ages; they are +rotten; they are pestilent and foul! Come out of +this plague-stricken Church--come away with us +into the light! Padre, it is we that are life and +youth; it is we that are the everlasting springtime; +it is we that are the future! Padre, the dawn is +close upon us--will you miss your part in the sunrise? +Wake up, and let us forget the horrible +nightmares,--wake up, and we will begin our life +again! Padre, I have always loved you--always, +even when you killed me--will you kill me again?" + +Montanelli tore his hands away. "Oh, God +have mercy on me!" he cried out. "YOU HAVE +YOUR MOTHER'S EYES!" + +A strange silence, long and deep and sudden, fell +upon them both. In the gray twilight they +looked at each other, and their hearts stood still +with fear. + +"Have you anything more to say?" Montanelli +whispered. "Any--hope to give me?" + +"No. My life is of no use to me except to +fight priests. I am not a man; I am a knife. If +you let me live, you sanction knives." + +Montanelli turned to the crucifix. "God! +Listen to this----" + +His voice died away into the empty stillness +without response. Only the mocking devil awoke +again in the Gadfly. + +"'C-c-call him louder; perchance he s-s-sleepeth'----" + +Montanelli started up as if he had been struck. +For a moment he stood looking straight before +him;--then he sat down on the edge of the pallet, +covered his face with both hands, and burst into +tears. A long shudder passed through the Gadfly, +and the damp cold broke out on his body. He +knew what the tears meant. + +He drew the blanket over his head that he might +not hear. It was enough that he had to die--he +who was so vividly, magnificently alive. But he +could not shut out the sound; it rang in his +ears, it beat in his brain, it throbbed in all his +pulses. And still Montanelli sobbed and sobbed, +and the tears dripped down between his fingers. + +He left off sobbing at last, and dried his eyes +with his handkerchief, like a child that has been +crying. As he stood up the handkerchief slipped +from his knee and fell to the floor. + +"There is no use in talking any more," he said. +"You understand?" + +"I understand," the Gadfly answered, with dull +submission. "It's not your fault. Your God is +hungry, and must be fed." + +Montanelli turned towards him. The grave +that was to be dug was not more still than they +were. Silent, they looked into each other's eyes, +as two lovers, torn apart, might gaze across the +barrier they cannot pass. + +It was the Gadfly whose eyes sank first. He +shrank down, hiding his face; and Montanelli +understood that the gesture meant "Go!" He +turned, and went out of the cell. A moment +later the Gadfly started up. + +"Oh, I can't bear it! Padre, come back! +Come back!" + +The door was shut. He looked around him +slowly, with a wide, still gaze, and understood that +all was over. The Galilean had conquered. + +All night long the grass waved softly in the +courtyard below--the grass that was so soon to +wither, uprooted by the spade; and all night long +the Gadfly lay alone in the darkness, and sobbed. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THE court-martial was held on Tuesday morning. +It was a very short and simple affair; a +mere formality, occupying barely twenty minutes. +There was, indeed, nothing to spend much time +over; no defence was allowed, and the only witnesses +were the wounded spy and officer and a +few soldiers. The sentence was drawn up beforehand; +Montanelli had sent in the desired informal +consent; and the judges (Colonel Ferrari, the local +major of dragoons, and two officers of the Swiss +guards) had little to do. The indictment was +read aloud, the witnesses gave their evidence, and +the signatures were affixed to the sentence, which +was then read to the condemned man with befitting +solemnity. He listened in silence; and when +asked, according to the usual form, whether he had +anything to say, merely waved the question aside +with an impatient movement of his hand. Hidden +on his breast was the handkerchief which Montanelli +had let fall. It had been kissed and wept +over all night, as though it were a living thing. +Now he looked wan and spiritless, and the traces +of tears were still about his eyelids; but the words: +"to be shot," did not seem to affect him much. +When they were uttered, the pupils of his eyes +dilated, but that was all. + +"Take him back to his cell," the Governor said. +when all the formalities were over; and the sergeant, +who was evidently near to breaking down, +touched the motionless figure on the shoulder. +The Gadfly looked round him with a little start. + +"Ah, yes!" he said. "I forgot." + +There was something almost like pity in the +Governor's face. He was not a cruel man by +nature, and was secretly a little ashamed of the +part he had been playing during the last month. +Now that his main point was gained he was willing +to make every little concession in his power. + +"You needn't put the irons on again," he said, +glancing at the bruised and swollen wrists. "And +he can stay in his own cell. The condemned cell +is wretchedly dark and gloomy," he added, turning +to his nephew; "and really the thing's a mere +formality." + +He coughed and shifted his feet in evident embarrassment; +then called back the sergeant, who +was leaving the room with his prisoner. + +"Wait, sergeant; I want to speak to him." + +The Gadfly did not move, and the Governor's +voice seemed to fall on unresponsive ears. + +"If you have any message you would like conveyed +to your friends or relatives---- You have +relatives, I suppose?" + +There was no answer. + +"Well, think it over and tell me, or the priest. +I will see it is not neglected. You had better give +your messages to the priest; he shall come at once, +and stay the night with you. If there is any other +wish----" + +The Gadfly looked up. + +"Tell the priest I would rather be alone. I +have no friends and no messages." + +"But you will want to confess." + +"I am an atheist. I want nothing but to be +left in peace." + +He said it in a dull, quiet voice, without defiance +or irritation; and turned slowly away. At the +door he stopped again. + +"I forgot, colonel; there is a favour I wanted +to ask. Don't let them tie me or bandage my +eyes to-morrow, please. I will stand quite still." + + . . . . . + +At sunrise on Wednesday morning they brought +him out into the courtyard. His lameness was +more than usually apparent, and he walked with +evident difficulty and pain, leaning heavily on the +sergeant's arm; but all the weary submission had +gone out of his face. The spectral terrors that +had crushed him down in the empty silence, the +visions and dreams of the world of shadows, were +gone with the night which gave them birth; and +once the sun was shining and his enemies were +present to rouse the fighting spirit in him, he was +not afraid. + +The six carabineers who had been told off for +the execution were drawn up in line against the +ivied wall; the same crannied and crumbling wall +down which he had climbed on the night of his +unlucky attempt. They could hardly refrain from +weeping as they stood together, each man with his +carbine in his hand. It seemed to them a horror +beyond imagination that they should be called out +to kill the Gadfly. He and his stinging repartees, +his perpetual laughter, his bright, infectious courage, +had come into their dull and dreary lives like +a wandering sunbeam; and that he should die, and +at their hands, was to them as the darkening of +the clear lamps of heaven. + +Under the great fig-tree in the courtyard, his +grave was waiting for him. It had been dug in +the night by unwilling hands; and tears had fallen +on the spade. As he passed he looked down, +smiling, at the black pit and the withering grass +beside it; and drew a long breath, to smell the +scent of the freshly turned earth. + +Near the tree the sergeant stopped short, and +the Gadfly looked round with his brightest smile. + +"Shall I stand here, sergeant?" + +The man nodded silently; there was a lump in +his throat, and he could not have spoken to save +his life. The Governor, his nephew, the lieutenant +of carabineers who was to command, a doctor and +a priest were already in the courtyard, and came +forward with grave faces, half abashed under the +radiant defiance of the Gadfly's laughing eyes. + +"G-good morning, gentlemen! Ah, and his +reverence is up so early, too! How do you do, +captain? This is a pleasanter occasion for you +than our former meeting, isn't it? I see your arm +is still in a sling; that's because I bungled my +work. These good fellows will do theirs better-- +won't you, lads?" + +He glanced round at the gloomy faces of the +carabineers. + +"There'll be no need of slings this time, any way. +There, there, you needn't look so doleful over it! +Put your heels together and show how straight +you can shoot. Before long there'll be more work +cut out for you than you'll know how to get +through, and there's nothing like practice beforehand." + +"My son," the priest interrupted, coming forward, +while the others drew back to leave them +alone together; "in a few minutes you must enter +into the presence of your Maker. Have you no +other use but this for these last moments that are +left you for repentance? Think, I entreat you, +how dreadful a thing it is to die without absolution, +with all your sins upon your head. When +you stand before your Judge it will be too late to +repent. Will you approach His awful throne with +a jest upon your lips?" + +"A jest, your reverence? It is your side that +needs that little homily, I think. When our turn +comes we shall use field-guns instead of half a +dozen second-hand carbines, and then you'll see +how much we're in jest." + +"YOU will use field-guns! Oh, unhappy man! +Have you still not realized on what frightful brink +you stand?" + +The Gadfly glanced back over his shoulder at +the open grave. + +"And s-s-so your reverence thinks that, when +you have put me down there, you will have done +with me? Perhaps you will lay a stone on the top +to pre-v-vent a r-resurrection 'after three days'? +No fear, your reverence! I shan't poach on the +monopoly in cheap theatricals; I shall lie as still as +a m-mouse, just where you put me. And all the +same, WE shall use field-guns." + +"Oh, merciful God," the priest cried out; "forgive +this wretched man!" + +"Amen!" murmured the lieutenant of carabineers, +in a deep bass growl, while the colonel and +his nephew crossed themselves devoutly. + +As there was evidently no hope of further insistence +producing any effect, the priest gave up the +fruitless attempt and moved aside, shaking his +head and murmuring a prayer. The short and +simple preparations were made without more delay, +and the Gadfly placed himself in the required +position, only turning his head to glance up for +a moment at the red and yellow splendour of the +sunrise. He had repeated the request that his +eyes might not be bandaged, and his defiant face +had wrung from the colonel a reluctant consent. +They had both forgotten what they were inflicting +on the soldiers. + +He stood and faced them, smiling, and the carbines +shook in their hands. + +"I am quite ready," he said. + +The lieutenant stepped forward, trembling a +little with excitement. He had never given the +word of command for an execution before. + +"Ready--present--fire!" + +The Gadfly staggered a little and recovered his +balance. One unsteady shot had grazed his cheek, +and a little blood fell on to the white cravat. +Another ball had struck him above the knee. +When the smoke cleared away the soldiers looked +and saw him smiling still and wiping the blood +from his cheek with the mutilated hand + +"A bad shot, men!" he said; and his voice cut +in, clear and articulate, upon the dazed stupor of +the wretched soldiers. "Have another try." + +A general groan and shudder passed through +the row of carabineers. Each man had aimed aside, +with a secret hope that the death-shot would come +from his neighbour's hand, not his; and there the +Gadfly stood and smiled at them; they had only +turned the execution into a butchery, and the +whole ghastly business was to do again. They +were seized with sudden terror, and, lowering their +carbines, listened hopelessly to the furious curses +and reproaches of the officers, staring in dull +horror at the man whom they had killed and who +somehow was not dead. + +The Governor shook his fist in their faces, +savagely shouting to them to stand in position, +to present arms, to make haste and get the thing +over. He had become as thoroughly demoralized +as they were, and dared not look at the terrible +figure that stood, and stood, and would not fall. +When the Gadfly spoke to him he started and +shuddered at the sound of the mocking voice. + +"You have brought out the awkward squad this +morning, colonel! Let me see if I can manage +them better. Now, men! Hold your tool higher +there, you to the left. Bless your heart, man, it's +a carbine you've got in your hand, not a frying-pan! +Are you all straight? Now then! Ready--present----" + +"Fire!" the colonel interrupted, starting forward. +It was intolerable that this man should +give the command for his own death. + +There was another confused, disorganized volley, +and the line broke up into a knot of shivering +figures, staring before them with wild eyes. One +of the soldiers had not even discharged his carbine; +he had flung it away, and crouched down, moaning +under his breath: "I can't--I can't!" + +The smoke cleared slowly away, floating up into +the glimmer of the early sunlight; and they saw +that the Gadfly had fallen; and saw, too, that he +was still not dead. For the first moment soldiers +and officials stood as if they had been turned to +stone, and watched the ghastly thing that writhed +and struggled on the ground; then both doctor +and colonel rushed forward with a cry, for he had +dragged himself up on one knee and was still facing +the soldiers, and still laughing. + +"Another miss! Try--again, lads--see--if you can't----" + +He suddenly swayed and fell over sideways on +the grass. + +"Is he dead?" the colonel asked under his +breath; and the doctor, kneeling down, with a +hand on the bloody shirt, answered softly: + +"I think so--God be praised!" + +"God be praised!" the colonel repeated. "At +last!" + +His nephew was touching him on the arm. + +"Uncle! It's the Cardinal! He's at the gate +and wants to come in." + +"What? He can't come in--I won't have +it! What are the guards about? Your Eminence----" + +The gate had opened and shut, and Montanelli +was standing in the courtyard, looking before him +with still and awful eyes. + +"Your Eminence! I must beg of you--this is +not a fit sight for you! The execution is only just +over; the body is not yet----" + +"I have come to look at him," Montanelli said. +Even at the moment it struck the Governor that +his voice and bearing were those of a sleep-walker. + +"Oh, my God!" one of the soldiers cried out +suddenly; and the Governor glanced hastily back. +Surely------ + +The blood-stained heap on the grass had once +more begun to struggle and moan. The doctor +flung himself down and lifted the head upon his knee. + +"Make haste!" he cried in desperation. "You +savages, make haste! Get it over, for God's sake! +There's no bearing this!" + +Great jets of blood poured over his hands, and +the convulsions of the figure that he held in his +arms shook him, too, from head to foot. As he +looked frantically round for help, the priest bent +over his shoulder and put a crucifix to the lips of +the dying man. + +"In the name of the Father and of the Son----" + +The Gadfly raised himself against the doctor's +knee, and, with wide-open eyes, looked straight +upon the crucifix. + +Slowly, amid hushed and frozen stillness, he +lifted the broken right hand and pushed away the +image. There was a red smear across its face. + +"Padre--is your--God--satisfied?" + +His head fell back on the doctor's arm. + + . . . . . + +"Your Eminence!" + +As the Cardinal did not awake from his stupor, +Colonel Ferrari repeated, louder: + +"Your Eminence!" + +Montanelli looked up. + +"He is dead." + +"Quite dead, your Eminence. Will you not +come away? This is a horrible sight." + +"He is dead," Montanelli repeated, and looked +down again at the face. "I touched him; and he +is dead." + +"What does he expect a man to be with half a +dozen bullets in him?" the lieutenant whispered +contemptuously; and the doctor whispered back. +"I think the sight of the blood has upset him." + +The Governor put his hand firmly on Montanelli's arm. + +"Your Eminence--you had better not look at +him any longer. Will you allow the chaplain to +escort you home?" + +"Yes--I will go." + +He turned slowly from the blood-stained spot +and walked away, the priest and sergeant following. +At the gate he paused and looked back, with +a ghostlike, still surprise. + +"He is dead." + + . . . . . + +A few hours later Marcone went up to a cottage +on the hillside to tell Martini that there +was no longer any need for him to throw away his +life. + +All the preparations for a second attempt at +rescue were ready, as the plot was much more +simple than the former one. It had been arranged +that on the following morning, as the Corpus +Domini procession passed along the fortress hill, +Martini should step forward out of the crowd, +draw a pistol from his breast, and fire in the Governor's +face. In the moment of wild confusion +which would follow twenty armed men were to +make a sudden rush at the gate, break into the +tower, and, taking the turnkey with them by force, +to enter the prisoner's cell and carry him bodily +away, killing or overpowering everyone who interfered +with them. From the gate they were to +retire fighting, and cover the retreat of a second +band of armed and mounted smugglers, who would +carry him off into a safe hiding-place in the +hills. The only person in the little group who +knew nothing of the plan was Gemma; it had been +kept from her at Martini's special desire. "She +will break her heart over it soon enough," he had +said. + +As the smuggler came in at the garden gate +Martini opened the glass door and stepped out +on to the verandah to meet him. + +"Any news, Marcone? Ah!" + +The smuggler had pushed back his broad-brimmed +straw hat. + +They sat down together on the verandah. Not +a word was spoken on either side. From the +instant when Martini had caught sight of the face +under the hat-brim he had understood. + +"When was it?" he asked after a long pause; +and his own voice, in his ears, was as dull and +wearisome as everything else. + +"This morning, at sunrise. The sergeant told +me. He was there and saw it." + +Martini looked down and flicked a stray thread +from his coat-sleeve. + +Vanity of vanities; this also is vanity. He was +to have died to-morrow. And now the land +of his heart's desire had vanished, like the fairyland +of golden sunset dreams that fades away when +the darkness comes; and he was driven back into +the world of every day and every night--the world +of Grassini and Galli, of ciphering and pamphleteering, +of party squabbles between comrades +and dreary intrigues among Austrian spies--of the +old revolutionary mill-round that maketh the +heart sick. And somewhere down at the bottom +of his consciousness there was a great empty place; +a place that nothing and no one would fill any +more, now that the Gadfly was dead. + +Someone was asking him a question, and he +raised his head, wondering what could be left that +was worth the trouble of talking about. + +"What did you say?" + +"I was saying that of course you will break the +news to her." + +Life, and all the horror of life, came back into +Martini's face. + +"How can I tell her?" he cried out. "You +might as well ask me to go and stab her. Oh, +how can I tell her--how can I!" + +He had clasped both hands over his eyes; but, +without seeing, he felt the smuggler start beside +him, and looked up. Gemma was standing in the +doorway. + +"Have you heard, Cesare?" she said. "It is +all over. They have shot him." + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +"INTROIBO ad altare Dei." Montanelli stood +before the high altar among his ministers and acolytes +and read the Introit aloud in steady tones. +All the Cathedral was a blaze of light and colour; +from the holiday dresses of the congregation to +the pillars with their flaming draperies and wreaths +of flowers there was no dull spot in it. Over the +open spaces of the doorway fell great scarlet curtains, +through whose folds the hot June sunlight +glowed, as through the petals of red poppies in +a corn-field. The religious orders with their candles +and torches, the companies of the parishes +with their crosses and flags, lighted up the dim +side-chapels; and in the aisles the silken folds of +the processional banners drooped, their gilded +staves and tassels glinting under the arches. The +surplices of the choristers gleamed, rainbow-tinted, +beneath the coloured windows; the sunlight +lay on the chancel floor in chequered stains of +orange and purple and green. Behind the altar +hung a shimmering veil of silver tissue; and against +the veil and the decorations and the altar-lights +the Cardinal's figure stood out in its trailing white +robes like a marble statue that had come to life. + +As was customary on processional days, he was +only to preside at the Mass, not to celebrate, so +at the end of the Indulgentiam he turned from the +altar and walked slowly to the episcopal throne, +celebrant and ministers bowing low as he passed. + +"I'm afraid His Eminence is not well," one of +the canons whispered to his neighbour; "he seems +so strange." + +Montanelli bent his head to receive the jewelled +mitre. The priest who was acting as deacon of +honour put it on, looked at him for an instant, +then leaned forward and whispered softly: + +"Your Eminence, are you ill?" + +Montanelli turned slightly towards him. There +was no recognition in his eyes. + +"Pardon, Your Eminence!" the priest whispered, +as he made a genuflexion and went back to +his place, reproaching himself for having interrupted +the Cardinal's devotions. + +The familiar ceremony went on; and Montanelli +sat erect and still, his glittering mitre and gold-brocaded +vestments flashing back the sunlight, +and the heavy folds of his white festival mantle +sweeping down over the red carpet. The light of a +hundred candles sparkled among the sapphires on +his breast, and shone into the deep, still eyes that +had no answering gleam; and when, at the words: +"Benedicite, pater eminentissime," he stooped to +bless the incense, and the sunbeams played among +the diamonds, he might have recalled some splendid +and fearful ice-spirit of the mountains, crowned +with rainbows and robed in drifted snow, scattering, +with extended hands, a shower of blessings or +of curses. + +At the elevation of the Host he descended from +his throne and knelt before the altar. There was +a strange, still evenness about all his movements; +and as he rose and went back to his place the major +of dragoons, who was sitting in gala uniform behind +the Governor, whispered to the wounded +captain: "The old Cardinal's breaking, not a +doubt of it. He goes through his work like a +machine." + +"So much the better!" the captain whispered +back. "He's been nothing but a mill-stone round +all our necks ever since that confounded amnesty." + +"He did give in, though, about the court-martial." + +"Yes, at last; but he was a precious time making +up his mind to. Heavens, how close it is! +We shall all get sun-stroke in the procession. It's +a pity we're not Cardinals, to have a canopy held +over our heads all the way---- Sh-sh-sh! +There's my uncle looking at us!" + +Colonel Ferrari had turned round to glance +severely at the two younger officers. After the +solemn event of yesterday morning he was in a +devout and serious frame of mind, and inclined to +reproach them with a want of proper feeling about +what he regarded as "a painful necessity of state." + +The masters of the ceremonies began to +assemble and place in order those who were to +take part in the procession. Colonel Ferrari rose +from his place and moved up to the chancel-rail, +beckoning to the other officers to accompany him. +When the Mass was finished, and the Host had +been placed behind the crystal shield in the processional +sun, the celebrant and his ministers retired +to the sacristy to change their vestments, and a +little buzz of whispered conversation broke out +through the church. Montanelli remained seated +on his throne, looking straight before him, immovably. +All the sea of human life and motion +seemed to surge around and below him, and to die +away into stillness about his feet. A censer was +brought to him; and he raised his hand with the +action of an automaton, and put the incense into +the vessel, looking neither to the right nor to the left. + +The clergy had come back from the sacristy, +and were waiting in the chancel for him to descend; +but he remained utterly motionless. The +deacon of honour, bending forward to take off the +mitre, whispered again, hesitatingly: + +"Your Eminence!" + +The Cardinal looked round. + +"What did you say?" + +"Are you quite sure the procession will not be +too much for you? The sun is very hot." + +"What does the sun matter?" + +Montanelli spoke in a cold, measured voice, +and the priest again fancied that he must have +given offence. + +"Forgive me, Your Eminence. I thought you +seemed unwell." + +Montanelli rose without answering. He paused +a moment on the upper step of the throne, and +asked in the same measured way: + +"What is that?" + +The long train of his mantle swept down over the +steps and lay spread out on the chancel-floor, and +he was pointing to a fiery stain on the white satin. + +"It's only the sunlight shining through a coloured +window, Your Eminence." + +"The sunlight? Is it so red?" + +He descended the steps, and knelt before the +altar, swinging the censer slowly to and fro. As +he handed it back, the chequered sunlight fell on +his bared head and wide, uplifted eyes, and cast a +crimson glow across the white veil that his ministers +were folding round him. + +He took from the deacon the sacred golden sun; +and stood up, as choir and organ burst into a peal +of triumphal melody. + + + "Pange, lingua, g]oriosi + Corporis mysterium, + Sanguinisque pretiosi + Quem in mundi pretium, + Fructus ventris generosi + Rex effudit gentium." + + +The bearers came slowly forward, and raised the +silken canopy over his head, while the deacons of +honour stepped to their places at his right and left +and drew back the long folds of the mantle. As +the acolytes stooped to lift his robe from the +chancel-floor, the lay fraternities heading the procession +started to pace down the nave in stately +double file, with lighted candles held to left and right. + +He stood above them, by the altar, motionless +under the white canopy, holding the Eucharist +aloft with steady hands, and watched them as they +passed. Two by two, with candles and banners +and torches, with crosses and images and flags, +they swept slowly down the chancel steps, along +the broad nave between the garlanded pillars, and +out under the lifted scarlet curtains into the blazing +sunlight of the street; and the sound of their +chanting died into a rolling murmur, drowned in +the pealing of new and newer voices, as the unending +stream flowed on, and yet new footsteps echoed down the nave. + +The companies of the parishes passed, with their +white shrouds and veiled faces; then the brothers +of the Misericordia, black from head to foot, +their eyes faintly gleaming through the holes in +their masks. Next came the monks in solemn +row: the mendicant friars, with their dusky cowls +and bare, brown feet; the white-robed, grave Dominicans. +Then followed the lay officials of the +district; dragoons and carabineers and the local +police-officials; the Governor in gala uniform, with +his brother officers beside him. A deacon followed, +holding up a great cross between two +acolytes with gleaming candles; and as the curtains +were lifted high to let them pass out at the +doorway, Montanelli caught a momentary glimpse, +from where he stood under the canopy, of the sunlit +blaze of carpeted street and flag-hung walls and +white-robed children scattering roses. Ah, the +roses; how red they were! + +On and on the procession paced in order; form +succeeding to form and colour to colour. Long +white surplices, grave and seemly, gave place to +gorgeous vestments and embroidered pluvials. +Now passed a tall and slender golden cross, borne +high above the lighted candles; now the cathedral +canons, stately in their dead white mantles. A +chaplain paced down the chancel, with the crozier +between two flaring torches; then the acolytes +moved forward in step, their censers swinging to +the rhythm of the music; the bearers raised the +canopy higher, counting their steps: "One, two; +one, two!" and Montanelli started upon the Way +of the Cross. + +Down the chancel steps and all along the nave +he passed; under the gallery where the organ +pealed and thundered; under the lifted curtains +that were so red--so fearfully red; and out into +the glaring street, where the blood-red roses lay +and withered, crushed into the red carpet by the +passing of many feet. A moment's pause at the +door, while the lay officials came forward to replace +the canopy-bearers; then the procession moved on +again, and he with it, his hands clasping the +Eucharistic sun, and the voices of the choristers +swelling and dying around him, with the rhythmical +swaying of censers and the rolling tramp of feet. + + + "Verbum caro, panem verum, + Verbo carnem efficit; + Sitque sanguis Christi merum----" + + +Always blood and always blood! The carpet +stretched before him like a red river; the roses lay +like blood splashed on the stones---- Oh, God! +Is all Thine earth grown red, and all Thy heaven? +Ah, what is it to Thee, Thou mighty God---- +Thou, whose very lips are smeared with blood! + + + "Tantum ergo Sacramentum, + Veneremur cernui." + + +He looked through the crystal shield at the +Eucharist. What was that oozing from the wafer-- +dripping down between the points of the golden +sun--down on to his white robe? What had he seen +dripping down--dripping from a lifted hand? + +The grass in the courtyard was trampled and +red,--all red,--there was so much blood. It was +trickling down the cheek, and dripping from the +pierced right hand, and gushing in a hot red torrent +from the wounded side. Even a lock of the +hair was dabbled in it,--the hair that lay all wet +and matted on the forehead--ah, that was the +death-sweat; it came from the horrible pain. + +The voices of the choristers rose higher, triumphantly: + + + "Genitori, genitoque, + Laus et jubilatio, + Salus, honor, virtus quoque, + Sit et benedictio." + + +Oh, that is more than any patience can endure! +God, Who sittest on the brazen heavens enthroned, +and smilest with bloody lips, looking +down upon agony and death, is it not enough? Is +it not enough, without this mockery of praise and +blessing? Body of Christ, Thou that wast broken +for the salvation of men; blood of Christ, Thou +that wast shed for the remission of sins; is it not +enough? + +"Ah, call Him louder; perchance He sleepeth! + +Dost Thou sleep indeed, dear love; and wilt +Thou never wake again? Is the grave so jealous +of its victory; and will the black pit under the tree +not loose Thee even for a little, heart's delight? + +Then the Thing behind the crystal shield made +answer, and the blood dripped down as It spoke: + +"Hast thou chosen, and wilt repent of thy +choice? Is thy desire not fulfilled? Look upon +these men that walk in the light and are clad in +silk and in gold: for their sake was I laid in the +black pit. Look upon the children scattering +roses, and hearken to their singing if it be sweet: +for their sake is my mouth filled with dust, and the +roses are red from the well-springs of my heart. +See where the people kneel to drink the blood that +drips from thy garment-hem: for their sake was +it shed, to quench their ravening thirst. For it is +written: 'Greater love hath no man than this, if +a man lay down his life for his friends.'" + +"Oh, Arthur, Arthur; there is greater love than +this! If a man lay down the life of his best beloved, +is not that greater?" + +And It answered again: + +"Who is thy best beloved? In sooth, not I." + +And when he would have spoken the words +froze on his tongue, for the singing of the choristers +passed over them, as the north wind over icy +pools, and hushed them into silence: + + + "Dedit fragilibus corporis ferculum, + Dedit et tristibus sanguinis poculum, + Dicens: Accipite, quod trado vasculum + Omnes ex eo bibite." + + +Drink of it, Christians; drink of it, all of you! +Is it not yours? For you the red stream stains +the grass; for you the living flesh is seared and +torn. Eat of it, cannibals; eat of it, all of you! +This is your feast and your orgy; this is the day of +your joy! Haste you and come to the festival; +join the procession and march with us; women +and children, young men and old men--come to +the sharing of flesh! Come to the pouring of +blood-wine and drink of it while it is red; take +and eat of the Body---- + +Ah, God; the fortress! Sullen and brown, with +crumbling battlements and towers dark among the +barren hills, it scowled on the procession sweeping +past in the dusty road below. The iron teeth +of the portcullis were drawn down over the mouth +of the gate; and as a beast crouched on the mountain-side, +the fortress guarded its prey. Yet, be +the teeth clenched never so fast, they shall be +broken and riven asunder; and the grave in the +courtyard within shall yield up her dead. For the +Christian hosts are marching, marching in mighty +procession to their sacramental feast of blood, as +marches an army of famished rats to the gleaning; +and their cry is: "Give! Give!" and they say +not: "It is enough." + +"Wilt thou not be satisfied? For these men +was I sacrificed; thou hast destroyed me that they +might live; and behold, they march everyone on +his ways, and they shall not break their ranks. + +"This is the army of Christians, the followers of +thy God; a great people and a strong. A fire +devoureth before them, and behind them a flame +burneth; the land is as the garden of Eden before +them, and behind them a desolate wilderness; yea, +and nothing shall escape them." + +"Oh, yet come back, come back to me, beloved; +for I repent me of my choice! Come back, and we +will creep away together, to some dark and silent +grave where the devouring army shall not find us; +and we will lay us down there, locked in one another's +arms, and sleep, and sleep, and sleep. And +the hungry Christians shall pass by in the merciless +daylight above our heads; and when they howl +for blood to drink and for flesh to eat, their cry +shall be faint in our ears; and they shall pass on +their ways and leave us to our rest." + +And It answered yet again: + +"Where shall I hide me? Is it not written: +'They shall run to and fro in the city; they shall +run upon the wall; they shall climb up upon the +houses; they shall enter in at the windows like a +thief?' If I build me a tomb on the mountain-top, +shall they not break it open? If I dig me a +grave in the river-bed, shall they not tear it up? +Verily, they are keen as blood-hounds to seek out +their prey; and for them are my wounds red, that +they may drink. Canst thou not hear them, what +they sing?" + +And they sang, as they went in between the +scarlet curtains of the Cathedral door; for the +procession was over, and all the roses were strewn: + + + "Ave, verum Corpus, natum + De Maria Virgine: + Vere passum, immolatum + In cruce pro homine! + Cujus latus perforatum + Undam fluxit cum sanguinae; + Esto nobis praegustatum + Mortis in examinae." + + +And when they had left off singing, he entered +at the doorway, and passed between the silent rows +of monks and priests, where they knelt, each man +in his place, with the lighted candles uplifted. +And he saw their hungry eyes fixed on the sacred +Body that he bore; and he knew why they bowed +their heads as he passed. For the dark stream +ran down the folds of his white vestments; and on +the stones of the Cathedral floor his footsteps left +a deep, red stain. + +So he passed up the nave to the chancel rails; +and there the bearers paused, and he went out +from under the canopy and up to the altar steps. +To left and right the white-robed acolytes knelt +with their censers and the chaplains with their +torches; and their eyes shone greedily in the flaring +light as they watched the Body of the Victim. + +And as he stood before the altar, holding aloft +with blood-stained hands the torn and mangled +body of his murdered love, the voices of the guests +bidden to the Eucharistic feast rang out in another +peal of song: + + + "Oh salutaris Hostia, + Quae coeli pandis ostium; + Bella praemunt hostilia, + Da robur, fer, auxilium!" + + +Ah, and now they come to take the Body---- +Go then, dear heart, to thy bitter doom, and open +the gates of heaven for these ravening wolves that +will not be denied. The gates that are opened for +me are the gates of the nethermost hell. + +And as the deacon of honour placed the sacred +vessel on the altar, Montanelli sank down where +he had stood, and knelt upon the step; and from +the white altar above him the blood flowed down +and dripped upon his head. And the voices of the +singers rang on, pealing under the arches and +echoing along the vaulted roof: + + + "Uni trinoque Domino + Sit sempiterna gloria: + Qui vitam sine termino + Nobis donet in patria." + + +"Sine termino--sine termino!" Oh, happy +Jesus, Who could sink beneath His cross! Oh, +happy Jesus, Who could say: "It is finished!" +This doom is never ended; it is eternal as the stars +in their courses. This is the worm that dieth not +and the fire that is not quenched. "Sine termino, +sine termino!" + +Wearily, patiently, he went through his part in +the remaining ceremonies, fulfilling mechanically, +from old habit, the rites that had no longer any +meaning for him. Then, after the benediction, he +knelt down again before the altar and covered his +face; and the voice of the priest reading aloud the +list of indulgences swelled and sank like a far-off +murmur from a world to which he belonged no more. + +The voice broke off, and he stood up and +stretched out his hand for silence. Some of the +congregation were moving towards the doors; and +they turned back with a hurried rustle and murmur, +as a whisper went through the Cathedral: + +"His Eminence is going to speak." + +His ministers, startled and wondering, drew +closer to him and one of them whispered hastily: +"Your Eminence, do you intend to speak to the +people now?" + +Montanelli silently waved him aside. The +priests drew back, whispering together; the thing +was unusual, even irregular; but it was within the +Cardinal's prerogative if he chose to do it. No +doubt, he had some statement of exceptional importance +to make; some new reform from Rome to announce or a +special communication from the Holy Father. + +Montanelli looked down from the altar-steps +upon the sea of upturned faces. Full of eager +expectancy they looked up at him as he stood +above them, spectral and still and white. + +"Sh-sh! Silence!" the leaders of the procession +called softly; and the murmuring of the congregation +died into stillness, as a gust of wind dies +among whispering tree-tops. All the crowd gazed +up, in breathless silence, at the white figure on the +altar-steps. Slowly and steadily he began to speak: + +"It is written in the Gospel according to St. +John: 'God so loved the world, that He gave His +only begotten Son that the world through Him +might be saved.' + +"This is the festival of the Body and Blood of +the Victim who was slain for your salvation; the +Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the +world; the Son of God, Who died for your transgressions. +And you are assembled here in solemn +festival array, to eat of the sacrifice that was given +for you, and to render thanks for this great mercy. +And I know that this morning, when you came to +share in the banquet, to eat of the Body of the +Victim, your hearts were filled with joy, as you +remembered the Passion of God the Son, Who +died, that you might be saved. + +"But tell me, which among you has thought of +that other Passion--of the Passion of God the +Father, Who gave His Son to be crucified? +Which of you has remembered the agony of God +the Father, when He bent from His throne in the +heavens above, and looked down upon Calvary? + +"I have watched you to-day, my people, as you +walked in your ranks in solemn procession; and I +have seen that your hearts are glad within you for +the remission of your sins, and that you rejoice in +your salvation. Yet I pray you that you consider +at what price that salvation was bought. +Surely it is very precious, and the price of it is +above rubies; it is the price of blood." + +A faint, long shudder passed through the listening +crowd. In the chancel the priests bent forward +and whispered to one another; but the preacher went +on speaking, and they held their peace. + +"Therefore it is that I speak with you this day: +I AM THAT I AM. For I looked upon your weakness +and your sorrow, and upon the little children +about your feet; and my heart was moved to compassion +for their sake, that they must die. Then +I looked into my dear son's eyes; and I knew that +the Atonement of Blood was there. And I went +my way, and left him to his doom. + +"This is the remission of sins. He died for you, +and the darkness has swallowed him up; he is +dead, and there is no resurrection; he is dead, and +I have no son. Oh, my boy, my boy!" + +The Cardinal's voice broke in a long, wailing +cry; and the voices of the terrified people answered +it like an echo. All the clergy had risen +from their places, and the deacons of honour +started forward to lay their hands on the preacher's +arm. But he wrenched it away, and faced them +suddenly, with the eyes of an angry wild beast. + +"What is this? Is there not blood enough? +Wait your turn, jackals; you shall all be fed!" + +They shrank away and huddled shivering together, +their panting breath thick and loud, their +faces white with the whiteness of chalk. Montanelli +turned again to the people, and they swayed +and shook before him, as a field of corn before +a hurricane. + +"You have killed him! You have killed him! +And I suffered it, because I would not let you die. +And now, when you come about me with your +lying praises and your unclean prayers, I repent +me--I repent me that I have done this thing! +It were better that you all should rot in your vices, +in the bottomless filth of damnation, and that he +should live. What is the worth of your plague-spotted +souls, that such a price should be paid for +them? But it is too late--too late! I cry aloud, +but he does not hear me; I beat at the door of the +grave, but he will not wake; I stand alone, in +desert space, and look around me, from the blood-stained +earth where the heart of my heart lies +buried, to the void and awful heaven that is left +unto me, desolate. I have given him up; oh, +generation of vipers, I have given him up for you! + +"Take your salvation, since it is yours! I fling +it to you as a bone is flung to a pack of snarling +curs! The price of your banquet is paid for +you; come, then, and gorge yourselves, cannibals, +bloodsuckers--carrion beasts that feed on the +dead! See where the blood streams down from +the altar, foaming and hot from my darling's +heart--the blood that was shed for you! Wallow +and lap it and smear yourselves red with it! +Snatch and fight for the flesh and devour it--and +trouble me no more! This is the body that was +given for you--look at it, torn and bleeding, +throbbing still with the tortured life, quivering +from the bitter death-agony; take it, Christians, +and eat!" + +He had caught up the sun with the Host and +lifted it above his head; and now flung it crashing +down upon the floor. At the ring of the metal on +stone the clergy rushed forward together, and +twenty hands seized the madman. + +Then, and only then, the silence of the people +broke in a wild, hysterical scream; and, overturning +chairs and benches, beating at the doorways, +trampling one upon another, tearing down curtains +and garlands in their haste, the surging, +sobbing human flood poured out upon the street. + + + +EPILOGUE. + + +"GEMMA, there's a man downstairs who wants +to see you." Martini spoke in the subdued tone +which they had both unconsciously adopted during +these last ten days. That, and a certain slow +evenness of speech and movement, were the sole +expression which either of them gave to their grief. + +Gemma, with bare arms and an apron over her +dress, was standing at a table, putting up little +packages of cartridges for distribution. She had +stood over the work since early morning; and +now, in the glaring afternoon, her face looked haggard +with fatigue. + +"A man, Cesare? What does he want?" + +"I don't know, dear. He wouldn't tell me. +He said he must speak to you alone." + +"Very well." She took off her apron and +pulled down the sleeves of her dress. "I must go +to him, I suppose; but very likely it's only a spy." + +"In any case, I shall be in the next room, within +call. As soon as you get rid of him you had better +go and lie down a bit. You have been standing +too long to-day." + +"Oh, no! I would rather go on working." + +She went slowly down the stairs, Martini following +in silence. She had grown to look ten years +older in these few days, and the gray streak across +her hair had widened into a broad band. She +mostly kept her eyes lowered now; but when, by +chance, she raised them, he shivered at the horror +in their shadows. + +In the little parlour she found a clumsy-looking +man standing with his heels together in the middle +of the floor. His whole figure and the half-frightened +way he looked up when she came in, +suggested to her that he must be one of the Swiss +guards. He wore a countryman's blouse, which +evidently did not belong to him, and kept glancing +round as though afraid of detection. + +"Can you speak German?" he asked in the +heavy Zurich patois. + +"A little. I hear you want to see me." + +"You are Signora Bolla? I've brought you a +letter." + +"A--letter?" She was beginning to tremble, +and rested one hand on the table to steady herself. + +"I'm one of the guard over there." He +pointed out of the window to the fortress on the +hill. "It's from--the man that was shot last +week. He wrote it the night before. I promised +him I'd give it into your own hand myself." + +She bent her head down. So he had written +after all. + +"That's why I've been so long bringing it," the +soldier went on. "He said I was not to give it to +anyone but you, and I couldn't get off before-- +they watched me so. I had to borrow these +things to come in." + +He was fumbling in the breast of his blouse. +The weather was hot, and the sheet of folded +paper that he pulled out was not only dirty and +crumpled, but damp. He stood for a moment +shuffling his feet uneasily; then put up one hand +and scratched the back of his head. + +"You won't say anything," he began again +timidly, with a distrustful glance at her. "It's as +much as my life's worth to have come here." + +"Of course I shall not say anything. No, +wait a minute----" + +As he turned to go, she stopped him, feeling for +her purse; but he drew back, offended. + +"I don't want your money," he said roughly. +"I did it for him--because he asked me to. I'd +have done more than that for him. He'd been +good to me--God help me!" + +The little catch in his voice made her look up. +He was slowly rubbing a grimy sleeve across his +eyes. + +"We had to shoot," he went on under his +breath; "my mates and I. A man must obey +orders. We bungled it, and had to fire again-- +and he laughed at us--he called us the awkward +squad--and he'd been good to me----" + +There was silence in the room. A moment +later he straightened himself up, made a clumsy +military salute, and went away. + +She stood still for a little while with the paper +in her hand; then sat down by the open window +to read. The letter was closely written in pencil, +and in some parts hardly legible. But the first +two words stood out quite clear upon the page; +and they were in English: + +"Dear Jim." + +The writing grew suddenly blurred and misty. +And she had lost him again--had lost him again! +At the sight of the familiar childish nickname all +the hopelessness of her bereavement came over +her afresh, and she put out her hands in blind +desperation, as though the weight of the earth-clods +that lay above him were pressing on her heart. + +Presently she took up the paper again and went +on reading: + + +"I am to be shot at sunrise to-morrow. So +if I am to keep at all my promise to tell you everything, +I must keep it now. But, after all, there is +not much need of explanations between you and +me. We always understood each other without +many words, even when we were little things. + +"And so, you see, my dear, you had no need to +break your heart over that old story of the blow. +It was a hard hit, of course; but I have had plenty +of others as hard, and yet I have managed to get +over them,--even to pay back a few of them,--and +here I am still, like the mackerel in our nursery-book +(I forget its name), 'Alive and kicking, +oh!' This is my last kick, though; and then, to-morrow +morning, and--'Finita la Commedia!' +You and I will translate that: 'The variety show +is over'; and will give thanks to the gods that +they have had, at least, so much mercy on us. It +is not much, but it is something; and for this and +all other blessings may we be truly thankful! + +"About that same to-morrow morning, I want +both you and Martini to understand clearly that +I am quite happy and satisfied, and could ask +no better thing of Fate. Tell that to Martini +as a message from me; he is a good fellow and a +good comrade, and he will understand. You see, +dear, I know that the stick-in-the-mud people are +doing us a good turn and themselves a bad one +by going back to secret trials and executions so +soon, and I know that if you who are left stand +together steadily and hit hard, you will see great +things. As for me, I shall go out into the courtyard +with as light a heart as any child starting +home for the holidays. I have done my share of +the work, and this death-sentence is the proof that +I have done it thoroughly. They kill me because +they are afraid of me; and what more can any man's +heart desire? + +"It desires just one thing more, though. A man +who is going to die has a right to a personal fancy, +and mine is that you should see why I have always +been such a sulky brute to you, and so slow to forget +old scores. Of course, though, you understand +why, and I tell you only for the pleasure of +writing the words. I loved you, Gemma, when you +were an ugly little girl in a gingham frock, with a +scratchy tucker and your hair in a pig-tail down +your back; and I love you still. Do you remember +that day when I kissed your hand, and when +you so piteously begged me 'never to do that +again'? It was a scoundrelly trick to play, I know; +but you must forgive that; and now I kiss the +paper where I have written your name. So I have +kissed you twice, and both times without your +consent. + +"That is all. Good-bye, my dear." + + +There was no signature, but a verse which they +had learned together as children was written +under the letter: + + + "Then am I + A happy fly, + If I live + Or if I die." + + . . . . . + +Half an hour later Martini entered the room, +and, startled out of the silence of half a life-time, +threw down the placard he was carrying and flung +his arms about her. + +"Gemma! What is it, for God's sake? Don't +sob like that--you that never cry! Gemma! +Gemma, my darling!" + +"Nothing, Cesare; I will tell you afterwards--I +--can't talk about it just now." + +She hurriedly slipped the tear-stained letter into +her pocket; and, rising, leaned out of the window +to hide her face. Martini held his tongue and bit +his moustache. After all these years he had betrayed +himself like a schoolboy--and she had not +even noticed it! + +"The Cathedral bell is tolling," she said after +a little while, looking round with recovered self-command. +"Someone must be dead." + +"That is what I came to show you," Martini +answered in his everyday voice. He picked up the +placard from the floor and handed it to her. +Hastily printed in large type was a black-bordered +announcement that: "Our dearly beloved Bishop, +His Eminence the Cardinal, Monsignor Lorenzo +Montanelli," had died suddenly at Ravenna, "from +the rupture of an aneurism of the heart." + +She glanced up quickly from the paper, and +Martini answered the unspoken suggestion in her +eyes with a shrug of his shoulders. + +"What would you have, Madonna? Aneurism +is as good a word as any other." + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Gadfly, by E. L. 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