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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Patriot, by Antonio Fogazzaro, Translated
+by M. Prichard-Agnetti
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Patriot
+       Piccolo Mondo Antico
+
+
+Author: Antonio Fogazzaro
+
+
+
+Release Date: September 20, 2010  [eBook #33778]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATRIOT***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Julia Neufeld, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+THE PATRIOT
+
+(PICCOLO MONDO ANTICO)
+
+by
+
+ANTONIO FOGAZZARO
+
+Author of "The Saint"
+
+Translated from the Italian by M. Prichard-Agnetti
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+New York and London
+The Knickerbocker Press
+
+Copyright, 1906
+by
+G. P. Putnam's Sons
+
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+_The Patriot (Piccolo Mondo Antico)_ was published in Milan in 1896, and
+has reached its forty-fourth edition, which is in itself sufficient
+proof of its popularity; for Italians do not purchase books largely, and
+one volume will often make the tour of a town, coming out of the
+campaign in rags and a newspaper cover.
+
+Although _The Patriot_ is not an historical novel in the true sense of
+the term, it certainly throws a wonderful side-light on those ten years
+of "deadly cold and awful silence," a silence broken only from time to
+time by the cries of the martyrs of Mantua, by the noise of inward
+strife in the Papal States, and by the weeping of mothers who saw their
+sons disappear behind the clanging doors of Austrian fortresses. These
+ten years stretched drearily from the disastrous field of Novara to the
+glorious days of Magenta, Solferino and San Martino (1849-59).
+
+Antonio Fogazzaro, born in Vicenza in 1842, was a child when the battle
+of Novara was fought and lost; but when the French drove the Austrians
+from the bloody field of Magenta, he, a youth of seventeen, was ready to
+be fired with patriotic enthusiasm.
+
+During those years, there was little the patriots could do save to feed
+the fire of hatred against the foreign oppressors, and prepare, as best
+they could, in secret and in constant danger of death, for the moment
+when Piedmont should once more give the signal of revolt.
+
+In the night that succeeded the battle of Novara, King Carlo Alberto,
+who had risked all for the freedom of the rest of Italy--for it must be
+remembered that his own kingdom of Sardinia was independent of
+Austria--discouraged, mortified, and impoverished, abdicated in favour
+of his son, Victor Emmanuel. It was no longer possible to continue
+hostilities, and Carlo Alberto hoped that his son, whose wife, Maria
+Adelaide, was the daughter of an Austrian grand-duke, might obtain more
+favourable conditions from Austria for his unhappy country. On the
+following day the young King and Field-Marshal Radetzky met, and a peace
+was signed, the conditions of which Victor Emmanuel found great
+difficulty in persuading his parliament to ratify. But in the end
+Piedmont paid Austria an indemnity of seventy-five million francs.
+
+Victor Emmanuel had not, however, abandoned the idea of United Italy,
+and could say with Massimo D'Azeglio: We will begin over again, and do
+better! Count Camillo Benso di Cavour, one of the greatest statesmen of
+modern times, stood by the King from the first. They immediately turned
+their attention towards bettering the condition of their impoverished
+country, and soon succeeded in rendering the little capital, Turin, one
+of the brightest and most prosperous cities of the Continent. The
+patriots, the best men in Italy, flocked to Turin from all those states
+where Austria or her tools held sway. The Piedmontese government granted
+subsidies to some of these refugees, and found employment for others,
+receiving all with open arms.
+
+Meanwhile, Mazzini and Garibaldi were working, sometimes at home,
+sometimes in exile, while in Mantua brave patriots, among them several
+saintly priests, were suffering torture and death at the hands of the
+Austrians. The records of their trials revealed such palpable and
+flagrant violation of all justice, all law, that when the Austrians were
+at last expelled from Mantua, they were careful to remove these to
+Vienna, where they are still preserved. The aged mother of one of the
+priests who suffered execution appealed to the young Empress Elisabeth,
+begging that her son's body might be restored to her, and receive burial
+in consecrated ground. But Elisabeth was deaf to the unhappy woman's
+prayers. During the long and desolate years of her own affliction, how
+often must the unfortunate Empress have thought of the tears of blood
+the mothers of Italy had shed! It was Field-Marshal Haynau of inglorious
+memory, he who for his cruelties in that city had been dubbed the "hyena
+of Brescia," who tortured these martyrs of Mantua and signed their
+death-warrants.
+
+All these things were happening during those ten years of heavy silence
+when Fogazzaro was a child. We can fancy how eagerly he listened to the
+accounts of these horrors, and to the long and animated discussions his
+father (Franco Maironi of _The Patriot_) and his uncle (Uncle Piero)
+held with the brilliant company that assembled at Casa Fogazzaro. His
+father took an active part in the defence of Vicenza in 1848, while his
+mother, whom he has portrayed for us in the lovely character of Signora
+Luisa Rigey, busied herself with scraping lint and making cockades for
+the soldiers. These events and scenes, which so deeply impressed the
+child, were ever present to the mind of the man, and the long cherished
+project of immortalising those personages and places which were both
+familiar and dear to him, was at last realised in the pages of _The
+Patriot_, in which, evoking personal memories of the past, he gives us a
+stirring account of the petty persecutions and base meanness to which
+the mighty Austria stooped during that period of suspense and anxiety.
+The intrigues of the rogue Pasotti, the skirmishes of the wicked old
+Marchesa with the adjutant of the great Radetzky himself, fill us with
+indignation and contempt, while we thrill with patriotic emotion when
+Luisa raises her glass and whispers: "Hurrah for Cavour!"--_whispers_
+the words, because in those days the very walls had ears, and in her
+toast there breathed sedition!
+
+As the years passed and peace and prosperity settled over United Italy,
+another question, that of the religious life, began to occupy the
+master-mind of Antonio Fogazzaro. Intensely but broadly religious
+himself, he could not fail to introduce into his work the burning
+question of belief or unbelief which, from long contemplation and study,
+had become, as it were, a part of himself. The artistic motive of the
+book, the struggle between an unbelieving wife and an intensely
+religious husband, came to the Italian reader as a new revelation. Had
+Fogazzaro been influenced by certain works which had already excited
+much comment and discussion in England and America? Perhaps so; but at
+all events he has treated the subject differently, and in his own
+masterly fashion; he has spared us the long and tedious tirades of
+personages who are, after all, simply mouthpieces, and has given us
+instead two warm and palpitating human beings, who live and act in
+accordance with their opinions, and whose innermost souls are laid bare
+to us by their own deeds, their own actions. Franco and Luisa do not
+discuss and argue, they simply _feel_, feel intensely, and by a few
+burning words here, a few delicate touches there, our author leads us to
+feel with them, to understand and sympathise with their impulses, their
+passions, and their weaknesses.
+
+We may not agree with Fogazzaro's conclusions, but we cannot but admire
+the masterly delineation of character, the unstudied and thoroughly
+artistic arrangement of the work, and the skilful handling of so many
+different elements.
+
+The very simplicity and directness of his language give to his style a
+grandeur all its own, and lend a peculiar charm to his descriptions of
+nature, which form some of the most fascinating pages of _The Patriot_.
+With a few broad strokes, he spreads before us a landscape of ineffable
+beauty, or shows us the fury of the maddened elements. How marvellous in
+its solemn grandeur is the picture of the struggle between the sun and
+the fog, which Uncle Piero witnesses from the terrace at Oria! How
+wonderful in its awe-inspiring realism is the story of Franco's journey
+across the mountains, in the darkness of a moonless night! And that
+glorious picture of the sunrise, when Franco's crushed and tortured soul
+soars upwards again with the growing light, and, inspired and comforted,
+he once more squares his shoulders, and takes up his heavy burden of
+care!
+
+Infinite sweetness breathes from the pages which deal with the short and
+sunny life of dear little Maria, and there are passages full of humour
+and whimsical reflections that must remind the English reader of
+Dickens.
+
+Perhaps when Fogazzaro wrote _The Patriot_, he had already planned the
+trilogy of which it forms the first volume, but certainly the trilogy
+was rather evolved than planned, evolved from the union of two such
+characters as Franco and Luisa; and probably, while writing the first,
+the author was, to a certain extent, ignorant of what the second and
+third volumes would contain; for Luisa and Franco, Jeanne and Piero are
+not puppets which have been fitted into a story, but the story is in
+every particular the outcome of their personalities.
+
+Certain it is that when we read the promise contained in the closing
+lines of _The Patriot_, we look forward eagerly to the succeeding
+volumes of the trilogy; and when, after that marvellous scene in the
+gardener's house, we reluctantly bid farewell to the Saint, our first
+thought is a hope that the master may soon resume his magic pen and
+continue the struggle for the purification and regeneration of the
+Faith, and, through the Faith, of Mankind.
+
+    MARY PRICHARD-AGNETTI.
+    BERCETO, ITALY,
+    _October, 1906_.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  _PART FIRST_
+                                                   PAGE
+
+
+                           CHAPTER I
+
+    RISOTTO AND TRUFFLES                             1
+
+                          CHAPTER II
+
+    ON THE THRESHOLD OF A NEW LIFE                  25
+
+                         CHAPTER III
+
+    THE GREAT STEP                                  39
+
+                          CHAPTER IV
+
+    CARLIN'S LETTER                                 68
+
+                           CHAPTER V
+
+    THE ROGUE AT WORK                               85
+
+                           CHAPTER VI
+
+    THE OLD LADY OF MARBLE                         109
+
+
+  _PART SECOND_
+
+                           CHAPTER I
+
+    FISHERMEN                                      117
+
+                           CHAPTER II
+
+    THE MOONSHINE AND CLOUD SONATA                 133
+
+                          CHAPTER III
+
+    THE GLOVED HAND                                169
+
+                          CHAPTER IV
+
+    THE HAND WITHIN THE GLOVE                      180
+
+                          CHAPTER V
+
+    THE SECRET OF THE WIND AND THE WALNUT TREES    201
+
+                          CHAPTER VI
+
+    THE TRUMP CARD APPEARS                         214
+
+                          CHAPTER VII
+
+    THE PROFESSOR PLAYS HIS TRUMP CARD             230
+
+                         CHAPTER VIII
+
+    HOURS OF BITTERNESS                            240
+
+                         CHAPTER IX
+
+    FOR BREAD, FOR ITALY, FOR GOD                  285
+
+                          CHAPTER X
+
+    SIGNORA LUISA, COME HOME!                      305
+
+                          CHAPTER XI
+
+    SHADOWS AND DAWN                               331
+
+                         CHAPTER XII
+
+    PHANTOMS                                       352
+
+                        CHAPTER XIII
+
+    FLIGHT                                         366
+
+
+  _PART THIRD_
+
+                          CHAPTER I
+
+    THE SAGE SPEAKS                                391
+
+                          CHAPTER II
+
+    THE SUMMONS TO ARMS                            411
+
+
+
+
+Part First
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+RISOTTO AND TRUFFLES
+
+
+On the lake a cold _breva_[A] was blowing, striving to drive away the
+grey clouds which clung heavily about the dark mountain-tops. Indeed,
+when the Pasottis reached Casarico on their way down from Albogasio
+Superiore, it had not yet begun to rain. The waves beat and thundered on
+the shore, jostling the boats at their moorings, while flashing tongues
+of white foam showed, here and there, as far as the frowning banks of
+the Doi over yonder. But down in the west, at the end of the lake, a
+line of light could be seen, a sign of approaching calm, of the
+diminishing _breva_, and behind the gloomy Caprino hill appeared the
+first misty rain. Pasotti, in his full dress black overcoat, a tall hat
+on his head, his hand grasping a thick bamboo walking-stick, was pacing
+nervously along the shore, peering now in this direction, now in that,
+or stopping to beat his stick upon the ground, and to shout for that
+ass of a boatman, who had not yet appeared.
+
+The little black boat, with its red cushions, its red and white awning,
+its movable seat, used only on special occasions, fixed crosswise in its
+place, the oars lying ready amidship, was struggling, buffeted by the
+waves, between two coal barges, which hardly moved.
+
+"Pin!" shouted Pasotti, growing more and more angry. "Pin!"
+
+The only answer was the regular, constant thundering of the waves on the
+shore, and the bumping of one boat against another. At that moment one
+would have said there was not so much as a live dog in the whole of
+Casarico. Only a plaintive, old voice, like the husky falsetto of a
+ventriloquist, groaned from beneath the portico--
+
+"Hadn't we better walk?"
+
+At last Pin appeared in the direction of San Mamette.
+
+"Hurry up, there!" shrieked Pasotti, raising his arms. The man began to
+run.
+
+"Beast!" Pasotti roared. "It was with good reason they gave you the name
+of a dog!"
+
+"Hadn't we better walk, Pasotti?" groaned the plaintive voice. "Let us
+walk!"
+
+Pasotti continued to abuse the boatman, who was hastily unfastening the
+chain of his boat from a ring, fixed in the bank. Presently he turned
+towards the portico, with an authoritative air, and jerking his chin,
+motioned to some one to come forward.
+
+"Let us walk, Pasotti!" the voice groaned once more.
+
+He shrugged his shoulders, made a rough gesture of command with his
+hand, and started down towards the boat.
+
+Then an old lady appeared under one of the arches of the portico, her
+lean person enveloped in an Indian shawl, below which a black silk skirt
+showed. Her head was surmounted by a fashionable bonnet, spindling, and
+lofty, trimmed with tiny yellow roses, and black lace. Two black curls
+framed the wrinkled face; the eyes were large and gentle, and the wide
+mouth was shaded by a faint moustache.
+
+"Oh Pin!" she exclaimed, clasping her canary-coloured gloves, and
+pausing on the bank to gaze helplessly at the boatman. "Can we really
+venture out with the lake in this state?"
+
+Her husband made a still more imperious gesture, and his face assumed a
+still sourer expression. The poor woman slipped down to the boat in
+silence, and was helped in, trembling violently.
+
+"I commend myself to Our Lady of Caravino, my good Pin!" she said. "What
+a dreadful lake!"
+
+The boatman shook his head, smiling.
+
+"By the way!" Pasotti exclaimed, "have you brought the sail along?"
+
+"It is up at the house," Pin answered. "Shall I go for it? But perhaps
+the Signora here, might be frightened. Besides, here comes the rain!"
+
+"Go and fetch it," said Pasotti.
+
+The Signora, who was as deaf as a post, had not heard a word of this
+conversation, and, greatly amazed at seeing Pin run off, asked her
+husband where he was going.
+
+"The sail!" Pasotti shouted into her face. She sat, bending forward, her
+mouth wide open, striving in vain, to catch, at least, the sound of his
+voice.
+
+"The sail!" he repeated, still louder, his hands framing his mouth.
+
+She began to think that she understood. Trembling with fright she drew a
+questioning hieroglyphic in the air with her finger. Pasotti answered by
+drawing an imaginary curve in the air, and blowing into it; then he
+silently nodded his head. His wife, convulsed with terror, started to
+leave the boat.
+
+"I am going to get out!" said she in an agonised voice. "I am going to
+get out! I want to walk!"
+
+Her husband seized her by the arm, and pulled her down into her seat,
+fixing two flaming eyes upon her.
+
+Meanwhile the boatman had returned with the sail. The poor woman writhed
+and sighed; tears stood in her eyes, and she cast despairing glances at
+the shore, but she was silent. The mast was raised, the two lower ends
+of the sail were made fast, and the boat was about to put out, when a
+voice bellowed from the portico--
+
+"Hallo! Hallo! The Signor Controllore!" and out popped a big, rubicund
+priest, with a glorious belly, a large, black straw hat, a cigar in his
+mouth, and an umbrella under his arm.
+
+"Oh! Curatone!" Pasotti exclaimed. "Well done! Are you invited to the
+dinner also? Are you coming to Cressogno with us?"
+
+"If you will take me," the curate of Puria answered, going down towards
+the boat. "Well, I never! The Signora Barborin is here also."
+
+The expression of his big face became supremely amiable, his great voice
+became supremely sweet.
+
+"She is devilish frightened, poor creature!" Pasotti grinned, while the
+curate was making a series of little bows, and smiling sweetly upon the
+lady, who was more terrified than ever at the prospect of this added
+weight. She began to gesticulate silently, as if the others had been
+more deaf than she herself. She pointed to the lake, to the sail, to the
+bulk of the enormous curate, raising her eyes to heaven, hiding her face
+in her hands, or pressing them to her heart.
+
+"I don't weigh so very much," said the curate laughing. "Hold your
+tongue, will you?" he added, turning to Pin, who had murmured
+disrespectfully: "A good, big fish!"
+
+"I'll tell you how we can cure her of her fright!" Pasotti exclaimed.
+"Pin, have you a little table, and a pack of _tarocchi_[B] cards?"
+
+"I have a pack," Pin replied. "But they are rather greasy."
+
+They had great difficulty in making Signora Barbara--generally called
+_Barborin_--understand the matter in hand. She would not understand, not
+even when her husband forced the pack of filthy cards into her hands.
+
+For the present, however, playing was out of the question. The boat was
+being laboriously rowed forward towards the mouth of the river of San
+Mamette, where they would be able to hoist the sail. The surf, flung
+back from the shore, clashed with the in-coming waves, and the little
+boat was tossing about among the seething, foaming crests. The lady was
+weeping and Pasotti was swearing at Pin, who had not stood out into the
+lake far enough. At last the fat curate seized a couple of oars, and
+planting his big person firmly in the middle of the boat, bent to his
+work with such good will that a few strokes sufficed to send them
+forward and out of difficulty. Then the sail was hoisted, and the boat
+glided quietly and smoothly onward, rocking slowly and gently, while the
+water gurgled softly under its keel. Then the smiling priest sat down
+beside Signora Barborin, who had closed her eyes and was muttering. But
+Pasotti drummed impatiently on the table with the cards, and play they
+must.
+
+Meanwhile the grey rain was creeping slowly towards them, veiling the
+mountains, and stifling the _breva_.
+
+The lady's breath returned in proportion as the wind's breath
+diminished, and she played resignedly, calmly oblivious to her own gross
+mistakes, and her husband's consequent outbursts of rage. When the rain
+began to rustle on the boat's awning, on the lifeless waves, which in
+the now almost breathless atmosphere, were rolling in against the rocks
+of the Tention; when the boatman, judging it best to lower the sail,
+took to the oars once more, then, at last, Signora Barborin breathed
+freely. "Pin, my good fellow!" she said tenderly, and began playing
+_tarocchi_ with a zeal, an energy and an expression of beatitude, which
+neither mistakes nor scoldings could trouble.
+
+Many days of _breva_ and of rain, of sunshine and of storm have dawned
+and faded away over the Lake of Lugano, over the hills of Valsolda since
+that game of cards was played by Signora Pasotti, her husband, the
+retired controller of customs, and the big curate of Puria, in the boat
+which coasted slowly along the rocky shore between San Mamette and
+Cressogno in the misty rain.
+
+The times were grey and sleepy, in keeping with the aspect of sky and
+lake, after the _breva_ had subsided, the breeze which had so terrified
+Signora Pasotti. The great _breva_[C] of 1848, after bringing a few
+hours of sunshine, and striving awhile with the heavy clouds, had
+slumbered for three years, allowing one breathless, gloomy, silent day
+to follow another in those places where the scene of this humble tale of
+mine is laid.
+
+The king and queens of _tarocchi_, the _mondo_, the _matto_ and the
+_bagatto_, were imported personages at that time, and in those parts;
+minor powers tolerated benevolently by the great, silent Austrian
+empire; and their antagonisms, their alliances, their wars, were the
+only political questions which might be freely discussed. Even Pin, as
+he rowed, eagerly poked his hooked and inquisitive nose into Signora
+Barborin's cards, withdrawing it reluctantly again. Once he paused in
+his rowing, and let his nose hover above the cards, to see how the poor
+woman would extricate herself from a difficult position; what she would
+do with a certain card it was dangerous to play, and equally dangerous
+to hold. Her husband thumped impatiently on the little table, the big
+curate sorted his cards with a blissful smile, while she clasped hers to
+her bosom, now laughing, now groaning, and rolling her eyes from one to
+the other of her companions.
+
+"She holds the _matto_," the curate whispered.
+
+"She always goes on like that when she has the _matto_," said Pasotti,
+and called to her, thumping the table one more--
+
+"Out with the _matto_!"
+
+"I will throw him into the lake!" said she. She cast a glance towards
+the prow, and, as an excuse, remarked that they were nearing Cressogno,
+and that it was time to stop playing.
+
+Her husband fumed awhile, but finally resigned himself to putting on his
+gloves.
+
+"Trout to-day, curate!" he observed, while his meek wife buttoned them
+for him. "White truffles, grouse, and wine from Ghemme."
+
+"Then you know!" the curate exclaimed. "I know it also. The cook told me
+yesterday at Lugano."
+
+"And besides, some ladies have been invited; the Carabellis, mother and
+daughter. Those Carabellis from Loveno, you know."
+
+"Indeed!" the curate exclaimed. "Is there any scheme----? There is Don
+Franco, now, in his boat. But what a strange flag the young man is
+flying! I never saw him with it before."
+
+Pasotti raised the awning and looked out. At a little distance a boat
+flying a white and blue flag rose and fell in unison with the weary
+motion of the waves. In the stern, under the flag, sat Don Franco
+Maironi, the grandson of the old Marchesa Orsola, who was giving the
+dinner.
+
+Pasotti saw him rise, grasp the oars, and pull away, rowing slowly
+towards the upper lake, towards the wild gulf of the Doi, the white and
+blue flag spread wide, and floating above the boat's trail.
+
+"Where is that eccentric young man going?" said he. And he muttered
+between his teeth; in the strained and husky voice of a Milanese
+rough--"A surly fellow!"
+
+"They say he has great talents," the priest observed.
+
+"An empty head," the other declared. "Much arrogance, little learning,
+no manners!"
+
+"And half rotten," he added. "If I were that young woman----"
+
+"Which?" the curate questioned.
+
+"Why, Signorina Carabelli."
+
+"Mark my words, Signor Controllore! If the grouse and white truffles are
+meant for that Carabelli girl, they are thrown away!"
+
+"Do you know something?" Pasotti inquired, his eyes flaming with
+curiosity.
+
+The priest did not answer because, at that point, the bow grated on the
+gravel, and touched the landing-stage. He got out first; Pasotti, with
+rapid and imperious gestures, gave his wife some orders of unknown
+purport. Then he himself left the boat. Last to get out was the poor
+woman, wrapped in her Indian shawl, bending under the tall, black bonnet
+with the little, yellow roses, staggering, and stretching out her big
+hands in the canary-coloured gloves. The two curls, hanging on either
+side of her meek ugliness, gave her a special air of resignation, under
+the umbrella of her husband, proprietor, inspector and jealous custodian
+of so much elegance.
+
+The three went up to the portico, by means of which the little Villa
+Maironi spans the road leading from the landing-stage to the
+parish-church of Cressogno. Between two happy sighs, the curate and
+Pasotti sniffed an indistinct, warm odour, which floated out from the
+open vestibule of the villa.
+
+"Ah! _risotto! risotto!_" the priest whispered, with a greedy glow on
+his face.
+
+Pasotti, who had a keen nose, shook his head, knitting his brows in
+manifest contempt for that other nose.
+
+"It is not _risotto_," said he.
+
+"What do you mean by saying it is not _risotto_?" the priest exclaimed
+in vexation. "It _is risotto_; _risotto_ with truffles. Don't you
+smell it?"
+
+Both stopped half way across the vestibule, sniffing the air noisily
+like a couple of hounds.
+
+"Do me the favour, my dear curate, to confine your remarks to
+_posciandra_," said Pasotti, after a long pause, alluding to a certain
+coarse dish the peasants prepare, with cabbage and sausages. "Truffles
+there are, but _risotto_ there is not!"
+
+"_Posciandra! posciandra!_" the other grumbled, somewhat offended. "As
+to that----"
+
+The poor, meek lady understood that they were quarrelling, and, much
+alarmed, began pointing upward towards the ceiling, with her right
+forefinger, to warn them that they might be overheard up above. Her
+husband seized her uplifted arm, signed to her to sniff, and then blew
+into her wide open mouth the word: "_Risotto_."
+
+She hesitated, not having heard distinctly. Pasotti shrugged his
+shoulders. "She don't understand anything," said he. "The weather is
+going to change," and he went up stairs, followed by his wife. The stout
+curate wished to take another look at Don Franco's boat. "The
+Carabellis, indeed!" he mused, but he was immediately recalled by
+Signora Barborin, who begged him to sit beside her at the table; she was
+so timid, poor creature!
+
+The fumes of the pots and kettles filled the stairs with warm fragrance.
+"It is not _risotto_," the vanguard murmured. "It is _risotto_," the
+rearguard answered in the same tone. And thus they continued, ever more
+softly: "It is not _risotto_; it is _risotto_," until Pasotti pushed
+open the door of the red room, where the mistress of the house was
+usually to be found.
+
+A hideous, lean, little dog trotted, barking, towards Signora Barborin,
+who was endeavouring to smile, while Pasotti was putting on his most
+obsequious expression, and the curate, entering last, his big face all
+sweetness, was really, in his heart, consigning the cursed little beast
+to hell.
+
+"Friend, come here, Friend!" the old Marchesa said placidly. "Dear
+Signora, dear Controllore, and the curate!"
+
+Her gruff nasal voice was pitched in the same calm tone to the guests
+and to the dog. She had risen to receive Signora Barborin, but did not
+move a step from the sofa, and stood there, a squat figure, with dull,
+torpid eyes beneath her marble forehead, and her black wig, which
+rounded out over her temples in the shape of two big snails. Her face
+must once have been handsome, and still retained in its pallor, tinged
+with yellow like old marble, a certain cold majesty, which--like her
+glance and her voice--never varied with the varying emotions of her
+soul. The big curate, standing at a distance, made her two or three
+jerky bows, but Pasotti kissed her hand, while Signora Barborin, who
+felt her blood turn to ice under the old lady's lifeless glance, did not
+know how to move, nor what to say. Another lady had risen from the sofa
+when the Marchesa rose, and was staring with an insolent air at Signora
+Pasotti, at that poor little bundle, old within, and new without!
+"Signora Pasotti and her husband," said the Marchesa. "Donna Eugenia
+Carabelli."
+
+Donna Eugenia hardly bowed her head. Her daughter, Donna Carolina, was
+standing at the window, talking with one of the Marchesa's favourites,
+the niece of the agent.
+
+The Marchesa did not consider it necessary to disturb her in order to
+present the new arrivals, and when she had invited them to be seated,
+she resumed her quiet conversation with Donna Eugenia concerning mutual
+friends in Milan, while Friend, sniffing and sneezing, circled slowly
+round Signora Barborin's shawl, which smelt of camphor, or rubbed
+himself against the curate's calves, studying Pasotti the while, with
+those pitiful, watery eyes of his, but never once touching him, as if he
+understood that the master of that Indian shawl, in spite of his amiable
+expression, would have liked to ring his--Friend's--neck!
+
+And the Marchesa Orsola talked on in her usual guttural, sleepy voice,
+and Donna Carabelli, in answering, strove to give her loud, imperious
+voice an amiable ring. But to Pasotti's penetrating glance, and cunning
+shrewdness it was quite clear that the two old ladies were concealing a
+certain dissatisfaction, which was greater in the Marchesa Maironi than
+in Donna Eugenia. Every time the door opened the dim eyes of the one and
+the dark eyes of the other were turned in that direction. Once it
+admitted the prefect of the _Santuario della Caravina_, with little
+Signor Paolo Sala, called _el Paolin_--little Paul--and Signor Paolo
+Pozzi, called _el Paolon_--big Paul--who were inseparable companions.
+Again there entered the Marchese Bianchi, of Oria, a former officer of
+the kingdom of Italy, with his daughter. He was a noble type of the
+gallant, old soldier, as he stood beside the attractive and vivacious
+young girl.
+
+On both occasions a shadow of vexation passed over Donna Carabelli's
+face. Her daughter also turned her eyes swiftly towards the door when it
+was thrown open, but presently she would begin chatting and laughing
+again, more gaily than ever.
+
+"And Don Franco, Marchesa? How is Don Franco?" said the cunning Pasotti,
+in a mellifluous voice, as he offered his open snuff-box to his hostess.
+
+"Thank you," the Marchesa answered, bending forward a little and dipping
+her fingers into the snuff. "Franco? To tell the truth I am rather
+anxious about him. This morning he was not feeling very well, and he has
+not appeared yet. I trust----"
+
+"Don Franco?" said the Marchese. "He is out in his boat. We saw him a
+few minutes ago, rowing like any boatman."
+
+Donna Eugenia spread her fan open.
+
+"Well done!" said she, fanning furiously. "A most delightful pastime."
+Then she closed the fan with a bang, and began biting at it with her
+lips.
+
+"Probably he needed the air," the Marchesa observed, in her unruffled,
+nasal drawl.
+
+"Probably he needed a wetting," the prefect of the Caravina murmured,
+his eyes sparkling with fun. "It is raining!"
+
+"Don Franco is coming now, Signora Marchesa," said the agent's niece,
+after a glance at the lake.
+
+"That is good," the sleepy, nasal drawl replied. "I hope he is feeling
+better. If not, he will not speak two words. He is a perfectly healthy
+boy, but very apprehensive about himself. By the way, Signor
+Controllore, why does not Signor Giacomo make his appearance?"
+
+"_El sior Zacomo_," Pasotti began, in imitation of Signor Giacomo
+Puttini, an old bachelor from the Veneto, who had lived at Albogasio
+Superiore, near Villa Pasotti, for the last thirty years. "_El sior
+Zacomo_----"
+
+"Tut, tut!" said the old lady, interrupting him. "I cannot allow you to
+make fun of the Venetians, and besides, it is not true that they say
+_Zacomo_ in the Veneto."
+
+She herself was a native of Padua, and although she had lived in Brescia
+for half a century, still her Lombard accent was not entirely free from
+certain chronic suggestions of her Paduan origin. While Pasotti was
+protesting, with ceremonial horror, that he had only intended to imitate
+the voice of his beloved friend and neighbour, the door opened a third
+time. Donna Eugenia, well aware who was coming, did not condescend to
+look round, but the Marchesa allowed her dull eyes to rest on Don Franco
+with the greatest unconcern.
+
+Don Franco, sole heir to the name of Maironi, was the son of the
+Marchesa's son who had died when only eight-and-twenty. He had lost his
+mother at his birth, and had always lived under the rule of his
+grandmother Maironi. He was tall and slender, and wore a tangle of
+rather long, dark hair, and this had procured for him the nickname of
+_el scovin d'i nivol_, "the cloud sweeper." He had eloquent, light blue
+eyes, a keen, animated and pleasing face, quick to blush or turn pale.
+Now that frowning face was saying very plainly: "Here I am, but I am
+much put out!"
+
+"How do you feel, Franco?" his grandmother inquired, and added quickly,
+without waiting for an answer: "Donna Carolina is anxious to hear that
+piece by Kalkbrenner."
+
+"Oh! not at all!" said the girl, turning to the young man with an air of
+indifference. "I did indeed say so, but then I am not fond of
+Kalkbrenner, I had much rather chat with the young ladies."
+
+Franco seemed quite satisfied with the reception he had received and,
+without waiting for further remarks, went over to talk with the big
+curate about a fine old picture they were to inspect together, in the
+church at Dasio. Donna Eugenia Carabelli was quivering with indignation.
+She had come from Loveno, with her daughter, after certain secret
+diplomatic transactions, in which other powers had had a hand. Should
+this visit be paid or not; would the dignity of the house of Carabelli
+permit it; did that probability of success which Donna Eugenia exacted,
+really exist? Such were the final questions, which diplomacy had been
+called upon to answer, for, notwithstanding the acquaintance of long
+standing which existed between Mamma Carabelli and Grandmamma Maironi,
+the young people had met only once or twice, and then but for a few
+minutes. They were being drawn together by their surroundings of wealth
+and nobility, of relationships and friendships, as a drop of salt water
+and a drop of fresh water are mutually drawn together, though the
+microscopic creatures, which have their being in the one and in the
+other be condemned to perish if the two drops mingle. The Marchesa had
+carried her point. It had been decided--apparently out of respect for
+her age, but really out of respect for her money--that the interview
+should take place at Cressogno; for, though Franco himself was possessed
+only of his mother's modest fortune, amounting to eighteen or twenty
+thousand Austrian _lire_, his grandmother was enthroned in all her calm
+dignity upon several millions. And now Donna Eugenia, observing the
+young man's conduct, was furious with the Marchesa, as well as with
+those who had exposed her daughter and herself to such humiliation. If,
+at a single blow, she could have swept away the old woman, her grandson,
+the gloomy house and the tiresome company, she would have done so with
+joy; but she must hide her feelings, feign indifference, swallow the
+indignity and the dinner.
+
+The Marchesa preserved her external, marble placidity, though her heart
+was filled with anger and rancour against her grandson. Two years
+before he had dared to ask her consent to his marriage with a young
+girl of Valsolda, of good family, but neither rich nor of noble birth.
+His grandmother's decided refusal had rendered the union impossible, and
+indeed the girl's mother had felt obliged to forbid Don Franco the
+house; but the Marchesa was convinced that those people still had their
+eyes on her millions. She had therefore determined to find a wife for
+Franco, at once, in order to avert all danger. She had sought for a girl
+who should be rich, but not too rich; of noble, but not too noble birth;
+intelligent, but not too intelligent. Having discovered one of the right
+sort, she suggested her to Franco who flew into a rage, and declared he
+had no desire to marry. The answer had a very suspicious ring, and she
+redoubled her vigilance, watching every movement of her grandson and of
+that "Madam Trap," that being the pleasing title she had bestowed upon
+Signorina Luisa Rigey.
+
+The Rigey family, consisting of the two ladies only, lived at Castello,
+in Valsolda, so it was not difficult to watch their movements.
+Nevertheless the Marchesa could not discover anything. But one evening
+Pasotti told her, with much hypocritical hesitation and many horrified
+comments, that the prefect of the Caravina, while chatting with Pasotti
+himself, with Signor Giacomo Puttini and with Paolin and Paolon, in the
+chemist's shop at San Mamette, had made the following remark: "Don
+Franco is going to keep quiet until the old lady is really dead!" The
+Marchesa having listened to this delicate piece of wit, answered: "A
+thousand thanks!" through her placid nose, and changed the subject.
+Later she learned that Signora Rigey--always more or less of an
+invalid--was suffering from hypertrophia of the heart, and it appeared
+to her that Franco's spirits were much affected by this illness. It was
+then that Signorina Carabelli was suggested to her. Carolina Carabelli
+was perhaps not entirely to her taste, but with that other danger
+threatening she could not hesitate. She spoke to Franco. This time he
+did not fly into a rage, but listened in an absent-minded way, and said
+he would think the matter over. This was perhaps the one act of
+hypocrisy of his whole life. Then the Marchesa boldly played a high
+card, and sent for the Carabellis.
+
+She saw plainly enough now, that the game was lost. Don Franco had not
+been present when the ladies arrived, and later had appeared only once
+for a few minutes. During those few minutes his manner had been
+gracious, but not so his expression. As usual his face had spoken so
+plainly that--though the Marchesa immediately invented an indisposition
+for him--no one could have been deceived. But in spite of all this, the
+old lady was not convinced that she had played her cards unskilfully.
+Ever since she had reached the age of discretion it had been a rule with
+her never to recognise in herself a single defect or mistake, never
+wittingly to wound her own noble and beloved self. Now she preferred to
+believe that, after her sermon on matrimony, some honeyed but poisonous
+and ensnaring word had mysteriously reached her grandson. If her
+disappointment was somewhat mitigated, this was due to the conduct of
+Signorina Carabelli, whose lively resentment was but ill concealed. This
+was not pleasing to the Marchesa. The prefect of the Caravina was not
+mistaken--though he perhaps erred slightly in the form of his discourse,
+when he said, softly, of her: "She is Austria itself." Like the old
+Austria of those days, the old Marchesa did not wish for any bold
+spirits in her empire. Her own iron will would not tolerate others in
+its neighbourhood. Such an indocile Lombardy-Venice as was Franco was
+already too much, and the Carabelli girl, who appeared to have a mind
+and a will of her own, would probably prove a troublesome subject of the
+house of Maironi, a species of turbulent Hungary.
+
+Dinner was announced. The footman's shaven face, and ill-fitting, grey
+livery reflected the Marchesa's aristocratic tastes, which, however, had
+been tempered by habits of economy.
+
+"And where is this Signor Giacomo, Controllore?" she said, without
+rising.
+
+"I fear he is not coming, Marchesa," Pasotti replied. "I saw him this
+morning, and said to him: 'Then we shall meet at dinner, Signor
+Giacomo?' But he squirmed as if he had swallowed a snake. He twisted and
+turned and at last puffed out: 'Yes, probably. I don't know! Perhaps. I
+can't say!--Uff! uff. Well really now, my good Controllore, indeed I
+don't know!--Uff, uff!'--and I could get nothing more out of him."
+
+The Marchesa summoned the footman to her side, and gave him an order in
+a low tone. He bowed and withdrew. In his longing for the risotto, the
+curate of Puria was rocking his body to and fro, and stroking his knees.
+But the Marchesa on her sofa, seemed turned to stone, so he also became
+petrified. The others gazed mutely at one another.
+
+Poor Signora Barborin, who had seen the footman, and was surprised at
+this immobility and these astonished faces, arched her eyebrows,
+questioning with her eyes, first her husband, then Puria, then the
+prefect, until a lightning glance from Pasotti petrified her as well.
+"Perhaps the dinner is burnt!" she reflected, assuming an expression of
+indifference. "If they would only send us home! What luck that would
+be!" But in a minute or two the servant returned, and bowed.
+
+"Let us go," the Marchesa said, rising.
+
+In the dining-room the company found a new personage; a little, crooked,
+old man, with kind eyes and a long nose, that drooped towards his chin.
+
+"Indeed, Signora Marchesa," he began, humbly and timidly, "I have
+already dined."
+
+"Sit down, Signor Viscontini," the Marchesa replied, who, like all those
+who are determined to make their world bend to their own comfort and
+tastes, was well versed in the insolent art of feigning deafness.
+
+The little man did not dare to answer, neither did he dare to sit down.
+
+"Courage, Signor Viscontini!" said Paolin, who stood near him. "What are
+you doing here?"
+
+"He is filling a gap!" muttered the prefect. In fact, the excellent
+Signor Viscontini, by trade a tuner of pianos, had that morning come
+from Lugano to tune the Zelbis' piano at Cima, and Don Franco's also,
+and at one o'clock he had dined at Casa Zelbi. Then he had come to Villa
+Maironi, and was now called upon to act as substitute for Signor
+Giacomo, because, without him, the company would have numbered thirteen.
+
+A brown liquid was smoking in the silver soup-tureen.
+
+"It is not risotto!" Pasotti whispered to Puria, passing behind him. But
+the big, mild face gave no sign of having heard.
+
+The Casa Maironi dinners were always lugubrious affairs, and this one
+promised to be more than usually so. But as a compensation, it was much
+finer than usual. While they were eating, Pasotti and Puria often
+exchanged glances of admiration, as if congratulating one another on
+the exquisite delight they were enjoying; and if ever Puria failed to
+catch one of Pasotti's glances, Signora Barborin, seated beside him,
+would apprise him of it by a timid touch of her elbow.
+
+The voices which predominated were those of the Marchesa and Donna
+Eugenia. Bianchi's large aristocratic nose, and his shrewd but gallant
+and courteous smile were often turned towards the lady's beauty, which
+though already fading, had not, as yet, departed. Both belonged to
+Milanese families of the best blood, and were united by a certain sense
+of superiority, not only over the other middle-class guests, but over
+their hosts as well, whose nobility was only provincial. The Marchese
+was affability itself, and would have conversed amiably with the
+humblest of his fellow-guests, but Donna Eugenia, in the bitterness of
+her soul, in her disgust for the place and the persons, attached herself
+to him as to the only one worthy of her attention, markedly singling him
+out, in order, also, to offend the others. She embarrassed him by
+remarking in a loud tone that she did not see how he could ever have
+taken a fancy to this odious Valsolda. The Marchese, who for many years
+had led a life of quiet and retirement in this region, where, moreover,
+the birth of his only daughter, Donna Ester, had taken place, was,
+first, greatly disconcerted, for this remark was calculated to wound
+several of their fellow-guests; but finally he burst into a brilliant
+defence of the place. The Marchesa showed no feeling; Paolin, Paolon,
+and the prefect, all natives of Valsolda, were silent and abashed.
+
+Then, in pompous language, Pasotti sang the praises of Niscioree, the
+villa belonging to Bianchi, near Oria. These praises did not seem to
+please the Marchese, who, himself a most loyal man, had not always found
+Pasotti to his liking, in the past. He invited Donna Carabelli to come
+to Niscioree. "You must not go on foot, Eugenia," said the Marchesa,
+well aware that her friend was tormented by the fear of growing stout.
+"The road from the Custom House to Niscioree is so narrow! You could not
+possibly pass." Donna Eugenia protested hotly. "It is not, indeed, the
+Corso of Porta Renza," said the Marchese, "but neither is it _le chemin
+du Paradis_--unfortunately!"
+
+"That it is not! Most certainly not! You may take my word for it!"
+exclaimed Viscontini, heated, as ill luck would have it, by too many
+glasses of Ghemme. All eyes were turned upon him, and Paolin said
+something to him in a low tone. "Crazy?" the little man retorted, his
+face aflame. "Not by any means! I tell you----" And here he related how,
+coming from Lugano that morning, he had felt cold in the boat, and had
+gotten out at Niscioree, intending to pursue his journey on foot; how
+there, between those two walls, where the path was so narrow an ass
+could not turn round in it, he had met the customs-officers, who had
+first abused him for getting out at Niscioree, and had then taken
+him back to the beastly custom-house. He said that beast of a
+Ricevitore--the receiver of customs--had confiscated a roll of
+manuscript music he had with him, taking the crotchets and quavers for a
+secret political correspondence.
+
+Profound silence followed this recital. Presently the Marchesa declared
+that Signor Viscontini was entirely in the wrong. He should not have
+landed at Niscioree; it was forbidden. As to the Ricevitore, he was a
+most worthy man. Pasotti, with a solemn face, confirmed this statement.
+
+"Excellent official," said he. "Excellent rascal!" muttered the prefect
+between his teeth. Franco, who at first appeared to be thinking of
+something else, roused himself, and cast a contemptuous glance at
+Pasotti.
+
+"After all," the Marchesa added, "it seems to me that, in the disguise
+of manuscript music, there might easily----"
+
+"Certainly," said Paolin, who played the Austrian from fear while the
+mistress of the house was Austrian from conviction.
+
+The Marchese, who in 1815 had broken his sword in two that he might not
+be obliged to serve the Austrians, smiled saying quietly: "_La! C'est un
+peu fort!_"
+
+"But every one knows that the Ricevitore is a beast!" Franco exclaimed.
+
+"I beg to differ with you, Don Franco," said Pasotti.
+
+"Nonsense; beg to differ!" the other retorted. "He is a perfect beast!"
+
+"He is a conscientious man," said the Marchesa, "an official who does
+his duty."
+
+"Then his masters are the beasts!" Franco exclaimed.
+
+"My dear Franco!" drawled the emotionless voice, "I will not tolerate
+such language in my house! Thank God we are not in Piedmont!" Pasotti
+grinned his approval. Then Franco, lifting his plate with both hands
+shivered it upon the table, with a furious blow. "Holy Mother!" gasped
+Viscontini, and Paolon, interrupted in the laborious operations of a
+toothless glutton, uttered an exclamation of alarm. "Yes, yes!" said
+Franco, rising, his face distorted, "I had better go!" And he left the
+room. Donna Eugenia at once turned faint, and had to be led away. All
+the ladies, except Signora Pasotti, followed her out at one door, while
+the footman entered at another, bearing a great risotto pie. Puria cast
+a triumphant glance at Pasotti, but Pasotti pretended not to notice. All
+had risen. Viscontini, the apparent culprit, kept repeating: "I can't
+make it out! I can't make it out!" and Paolin, much vexed at seeing the
+dinner thus interrupted, grumbled at him: "What business have you to try
+to make anything out?" The Marchese was frowning fiercely, but kept
+silent. At last Pasotti, the real culprit, assuming an air of
+affectionate sadness, said, as if speaking to himself: "What a pity!
+Poor Don Franco! A heart of gold, a good head, but such a disposition!
+It is indeed unfortunate."
+
+"Alas!" exclaimed Paolin, and Puria added despairingly: "Truly a great
+misfortune!"
+
+They waited and waited, but the ladies did not return. Then some one
+moved. Paolin and Puria, their hands clasped behind them, walked slowly
+towards the sideboard, lost in contemplation of the risotto pie. Puria
+called sweetly to Pasotti, but Pasotti did not move. "I only wished to
+observe," the big curate said, hiding his triumph so that it might or
+might not be apparent, "I only wished to observe that there are white
+truffles in it."
+
+"I should say that black truffles[D] are not wanting here either,"
+remarked the Marchese pointedly, and slightly accentuating the words.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[A] _Breva_: local name for a sudden, violent wind blowing from the
+north, and sweeping over the Italian lakes. [_Translator's note._]
+
+[B] _Tarocchi_: a game of cards once much in vogue in Italy. The
+"_Mondo_," the "_Matto_," the "_Bagatto_," which will be referred to
+later on, are all picture cards used in this game. [_Translator's
+note._]
+
+[C] The _breva_ of 1848 means the revolution which swept over Italy in
+that year, after which the country sunk into apparent calm, but all the
+while the people, chafing under the Austrian yoke, were preparing for
+the mighty effort which, at last, set them free. [_Translator's note._]
+
+[D] _Tartufo_: often used to indicate those who are hypocritically
+pious. The word "black" refers to the priest's black robe.
+[_Translator's note._]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+ON THE THRESHOLD OF A NEW LIFE
+
+
+"Scoundrels!" snorted Don Franco, climbing the stairs that led to his
+room. "Silly ass of an Austrian!" He was venting his wrath on Pasotti,
+as he could not hurl insults at his grandmother, and the very letters of
+the word _Austrian_ served so well to grind between his teeth, as he
+ground his rage, crushing it and enjoying its flavour. When he reached
+his room his burning indignation died out.
+
+He threw himself into a chair opposite the open window, and gazed at the
+lake, lying still and mournful in the cloudy afternoon, and at the
+lonely mountains beyond the sheet of water. He drew a long breath. Ah!
+how well he felt here all alone! Ah! what peace! How different the
+atmosphere was to that of the drawing-room! What a precious atmosphere,
+full of his thoughts and of his loves! He felt a great need of giving
+himself up to them, and they at once took possession of him, driving
+from his mind the Carabellis, Pasotti, his grandmother and that
+egregious beast, the receiver of customs. They? No, one thought alone; a
+thought composed of mingled love and reason, of anxiety and joy, of so
+many sweet memories, and at the same time, of tremulous expectancy, for
+something solemn was drawing near, and would come to him in the shadows
+of the night. Franco looked at his watch. It wanted a quarter to four
+o'clock. Seven hours longer to wait. He rose, and leaned with folded
+arms upon the window sill.
+
+In seven hours another life would begin for him. Beyond the few persons
+who were to have a part in the event, not even the air itself knew that
+that same evening, towards eleven o'clock, Don Franco Maironi would wed
+Signorina Luisa Rigey.
+
+For some time Signora Teresa Rigey, Luisa's mother, had, in all
+sincerity, begged Franco to bend to his grandmother's will, to abstain
+from visiting their house, and to think no more of Luisa, who, on her
+part, was content, for the dignity of the family, and out of respect for
+her mother, that all official relations with Don Franco should cease.
+She did not, however, doubt that he would remain faithful to her, and
+considered herself bound to him for life. His grandmother was not aware
+that he was now privately reading law, in order that by following a
+profession, he might be able to maintain himself. But, as a result of so
+much anxiety, Signora Rigey contracted a heart trouble, which grew
+suddenly worse towards the end of August, 1851. Franco wrote to her,
+begging to be allowed at least, to visit her, since it was not possible
+for him to nurse her "as would have been his duty." The lady did not
+feel justified in consenting to this, and the young man, in despair,
+gave her to understand that he looked upon Luisa as his affianced wife
+before God, and that he would rather die than to give her up. Then the
+poor mother, conscious that her life was ebbing day by day, distressed
+by the uncertain position of her beloved child, and convinced of the
+young man's strength of purpose, conceived a great longing that--as the
+marriage would surely take place--it should be celebrated as soon as
+possible. Everything was arranged in haste, with the aid of the curate
+of Castello and of Signora Rigey's brother, the civil engineer Ribera,
+of Oria, who was in the service of the Imperial and Royal Office of
+Public Works, at Como. The understanding was as follows: The marriage
+should be celebrated secretly; Franco should remain with his
+grandmother, and Luisa with her mother, until such a time as they should
+deem it opportune to acknowledge their union to the Marchesa. Franco
+relied greatly upon the support of Monsignor Benaglia, Bishop of Lodi,
+and an old friend of the family, but before he was asked to interfere,
+the decisive step must be taken. If (as in all probability would be the
+case) the Marchesa hardened her heart against them, the young couple and
+Signora Rigey would take up their abode in a house in Oria, belonging to
+the engineer Ribera, a bachelor who was supporting his sister's family,
+and would now accept Franco in place of a son.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+In seven hours then!
+
+The window overlooked the landing-place and the strip of garden in front
+of the villa, on the lake side. When he first fell in love, Franco used
+to stand there and watch for the coming of a certain boat, from which
+would spring a slim little person, as light as air, but who never, never
+looked towards his window. At last, one day he had gone down to meet
+her, and she had waited a moment before jumping out, that she might
+accept his helping hand--which, indeed, was most unnecessary. Down there
+in the garden he had given her a flower, for the first time, the
+sweet-smelling flower of the _Mandevilia suaveolens_. Down there, on
+another occasion, he had cut his finger rather deeply with his penknife,
+while gathering a little branch of roses for her, and she, by the
+anxiety she displayed, had given him a sweet proof of her love. How many
+excursions to the solitary slopes of Monte Bisgnago, on the other side,
+he had made with her and with other friends, before his grandmother
+found out! How many lunches and suppers at the little inn at Doi! Franco
+would come home with the sweetness of the many glances exchanged still
+lingering in his heart, and shutting himself up in his room, would
+recall them all, revelling in them in memory. These first emotions of
+his love now rushed into his mind, not one by one, but all together,
+from the waters and from the gloomy shores, where his fixed gaze seemed
+to lose itself in the shadowy past rather than in the misty present.
+Thus, as he neared the goal, he thought of the first steps he had taken
+on this long road, of the unforeseen incidents, of the aspect of this
+much-longed-for union, so different in reality from what it had appeared
+in his dreams. He looked back upon the time of the _mandevilia_ and the
+roses, of the excursions on the lake and among the hills. Certainly, at
+that time, he did not dream he would attain his object thus, secretly,
+and surrounded by so many difficulties, so much pain. Still, he thought
+that if the wedding had taken place openly, with the customary proem of
+official ceremonies, of contracts, congratulations, visits, and dinners,
+all this would have been even more wearisome and repugnant to his love
+than the opposition he had met with.
+
+He was aroused by the voice of the prefect, calling to him from the
+garden, to announce the departure of the Carabellis. Franco reflected
+that if he went down he would be obliged to offer some apologies, and he
+preferred not to make his appearance. "You should have smashed the plate
+on his face!" the prefect called up to him, his hands framing his mouth.
+"You should have smashed it on his face!"
+
+Then he turned away, and Franco saw the Carabellis' boatman go down to
+the shore to prepare the boat. He left the window, and returning to the
+thoughts which had occupied him first of all, he opened his chest of
+drawers, and stood absently contemplating an embroidered shirt front,
+where certain small diamond studs his father had worn at his own
+wedding, were already sparkling. He disliked the idea of going to the
+altar without some outward sign of festivity, but of course, this sign
+must not be too apparent.
+
+In the iris-scented chest of drawers everything was arranged with that
+order which denotes a cultured spirit, and no one was allowed to touch
+its contents save Franco himself. But the chairs, the writing table, the
+piano, were heaped with such disorder that it would seem as if a
+hurricane of books and papers had swept in at the two windows. Certain
+law books were slumbering under an inch of dust, but not a single leaf
+of the little gardenia, growing in a pot on the sill of the east window,
+showed a speck of dust. These indications were sufficient to suggest the
+whimsical rule of a poet. A glance at the books and papers would have
+given conclusive proof of this.
+
+Franco was passionately fond of poetry, and was a true poet in the
+exquisite delicacy of his instincts. As a writer of verse he could be
+ranked only as an indifferent amateur, wanting in originality. His
+favourite models were Foscolo and Giusti. He worshipped them fervently,
+and pillaged them both, for his genius, which was both satirical and
+enthusiastic, was not capable of creating a style of its own, and must
+content itself with imitating others. It is only fair to remark that
+young men in those days generally possessed a classical culture such as
+has since become most exceptional, and that through the classics
+themselves they learned to respect the art of imitation, as a
+praiseworthy and virtuous practice.
+
+Franco liked to improvise on the piano with some of these verses before
+his eyes. Even more devoted to music than to poetry, he had himself
+purchased this piano for one hundred and fifty _svanziche_, from the
+organist at Loggio, because the poor Viennese instrument, belonging to
+his grandmother, which was always wrapped up and must be handled
+carefully, like a gouty member of the family, was not adapted to his
+requirements. The organist's instrument, which had been thumped and
+banged upon by two generations of hands, hardened by contact with the
+pickaxe, now sent forth only a funny little nasal voice, which rose
+above a faint tinkling, as of many tiny glasses standing too close
+together. Franco was almost oblivious to this. As soon as he had placed
+his hands upon the instrument his imagination would take fire; the
+composer's enthusiasm would enter into him, and, in the heat of the
+creative passion, a thread of sound sufficed to permeate him with the
+spirit of music, and absolutely to intoxicate him. An Erard would have
+embarrassed him, would have left less room for fancy, would, in a word,
+have been less dear to him than his spinet.
+
+Franco possessed too many talents, too many different inclinations, too
+much impetuosity, too little vanity and perhaps also, too little
+will-power to undertake that tiresome, methodical, manual labour, which
+is indispensable in order to become a pianist. Nevertheless, Viscontini
+was enthusiastic about the style of playing, and his fiancee Luisa,
+though she did not entirely share his classical tastes, honestly admired
+his touch. When, being pressed to do so, he would make the organ at
+Cressogno roar and groan in the approved classic manner, the good
+people, overwhelmed by the music and the honour, would stare at him with
+open mouths and reverent eyes, as they would have stared at some
+preacher, whose sermon they did not understand. But notwithstanding all
+this, Franco could not have held his own in a city drawing-room, against
+the majority of feeble amateurs, incapable even of understanding and
+loving music. All, or almost all of them would have shown themselves his
+superiors in agility and in precision, and would have gathered in more
+applause, even though no one of them had succeeded in making the piano
+sing as he made it sing, especially in the adagios of Bellini and of
+Beethoven, playing with his soul in his throat, in his eyes, in the
+muscles of his face, in the tendons of his hands, which seemed one with
+the chords of the piano.
+
+Another passion of his was for old pictures. The walls of his room held
+several, most of which were daubs. Never having travelled he had little
+experience. His fancy was quick to take fire, and, obliged as he was to
+fit his ample desires to his scant means, he was credulous concerning
+the alleged good fortune of other ignorant purchasers, and often allowed
+himself to be influenced by them, to be blinded and led into buying
+certain dirty rags, which, if they cost little, were worth still less.
+The only passably good things he possessed were a head, in the style of
+Morone, and a Madonna and Child, after the manner of Carlo Dolci.
+Franco, however, baptised these two little pictures with the names of
+Morone and Carlo Dolci, without further qualification.
+
+When he had re-read and enjoyed some lines inspired by the hypocritical
+Pasotti, he once more hunted in the chaos of his desk, and drew forth a
+small sheet of notepaper, upon which he intended to write to Monsignor
+Benaglia, the only person who, in the future, might be able to influence
+his grandmother in his favour. He felt it his duty to inform him of the
+step he was about to take, of the reasons which had forced his fiancee
+and himself to resort to this painful subterfuge, of the hope they
+cherished that he would help them when the time came to confess all to
+the Marchesa. He was still reflecting, pen in hand, when the Carabellis'
+boat passed beneath his window. Soon after he heard the Marchese's
+gondola glide by, followed presently by Pin's boat. He expected that his
+grandmother would send for him, now that she was alone, but she did not
+do so. He waited some time, expecting to be summoned, then he began to
+think of his letter again, and reflected so long, re-wrote the
+introduction so many times, and got on so slowly, that before he had
+finished he was obliged to light the lamp.
+
+The end was easier. He begged the old Bishop's prayers for his Luisa and
+for himself, and expressed a faith in God so perfect and so pure, that
+the most unbelieving heart must have been touched by it.
+
+Fiery and impetuous as he was, still Franco possessed the calm and
+simple faith of a little child. Entirely free from pride, a stranger to
+philosophical meditations, he was ignorant of that thirst for
+intellectual liberty which torments young men, when their senses begin
+to find themselves hampered by that strong curb--positive beliefs. He
+had never for an instant doubted his religion, and performed all the
+duties it prescribed without once asking himself if it be reasonable to
+act and believe thus. Still he had nothing of the mystic or of the
+ascetic. His intellect, though ardent and poetic, was, at the same time,
+clear and positive. Devoted as he was to nature and to art, and
+attracted by all the pleasing aspects of life, he would naturally shrink
+from mysticism. He had not acquired his faith; he had never concentrated
+all his thoughts upon it for any length of time, therefore it was not
+possible that it should have penetrated all his sentiments. Religion was
+to him what science is to the student, whose first thought is school,
+where he studies diligently, having no peace until he has done his home
+tasks, and is prepared for the next lesson, but who, once his duty is
+performed, thinks no more either of teachers or of books, and does not
+feel the need of regulating his actions according to scientific
+conclusions or scholastic programmes. Therefore it would often seem that
+Franco's life was influenced by nothing else than his warm and generous
+heart, his passionate inclinations, his lively impressions, and the
+impulses of his honest nature, which was offended by every kind of
+untruth and meanness, while he chafed under contradiction, and was
+incapable of deceit.
+
+He had just sealed his letter when some one knocked at the door. The
+Marchesa had sent to summon Don Franco downstairs to recite the Rosary.
+At Casa Maironi they recited the Rosary every evening between seven and
+eight, and the servants were obliged to be present. The Marchesa herself
+intoned the prayers, enthroned on her sofa, her sleepy eyes roving over
+the backs and legs of the worshippers, kneeling, some in one position,
+some in another, some in the light best adapted to set off a devotional
+attitude, and others in the shadow which would favour a comfortable, but
+forbidden nap. Franco entered the room as the nasal voice was repeating
+the sweet words: "_Ave Maria, gratia plena_," with that drawling unction
+which always inspired him with a wild desire to become a Turk. The young
+man flung himself down in a dark corner, and never opened his lips. It
+was impossible for him to answer that irritating voice with fitting
+devotion. He fell to imagining what the coming interview would be like,
+and preparing caustic answers.
+
+When the Rosary was finished the Marchesa waited a moment and then
+pronounced the words consecrated by long usage--
+
+"Carlotta, Friend."
+
+It was the duty of Carlotta, the Marchesa's old maid, to take Friend in
+her arms, and carry him off to bed, as soon as the Rosary was finished.
+
+"He is here, Signora Marchesa," said Carlotta.
+
+But Friend, though indeed he had been there, was somewhere else when she
+bent down with outstretched hand. That evening old Friend was in good
+spirits, and determined to play at not being caught. He would tempt
+Carlotta, and then slip through her fingers, taking refuge under the
+piano, or under the table, from whence he would peer out at the poor
+woman with ironical waggings of his tail, while Carlotta's lips said,
+"Come, come, dear!" and her heart said, "Ugly beast!"
+
+"Friend!" exclaimed the Marchesa. "That will do, Friend! Be good!"
+
+Franco was boiling. The nasty little monster, imbued with his mistress'
+arrogance and egotism, paused at his feet, and Franco rolled him roughly
+towards Carlotta, who grabbed him, and punished him with an angry
+squeeze, and then carried him off, answering his whines with deceitful
+words of pity. "What did they do to you, poor Friend? What did they do
+to you? Tell us all about it!"
+
+The Marchesa made no remarks, nor did her marble countenance betray her
+feelings. She ordered the footman to tell the prefect of the Caravina,
+or any one else who might call, that his mistress had retired. Franco
+started to leave the room behind the servants, but checked himself at
+once, that he might not appear to be running away. He took a number of
+the _Imperial and Royal Gazette_ of Milan from the mantel-shelf, and
+seating himself near his grandmother, began reading while he waited.
+
+"I congratulate you heartily on the good manners and fine sentiments you
+displayed to us to-day," the sleepy voice began, almost immediately.
+
+"I accept your congratulations," Franco retorted, without raising his
+eyes from his paper.
+
+"Well done, my dear!" his immovable grandmother replied, and added: "I
+am glad that young girl had the opportunity of seeing you as you are,
+because, supposing she may have heard of a certain project, she will now
+be very glad it is no longer thought of."
+
+"Then we are both satisfied!" said Franco.
+
+"You cannot in the least tell if you are going to be satisfied.
+Especially if you still hold the views you once held."
+
+Upon this, Franco put his paper down, and looked his grandmother full in
+the face.
+
+"What would happen," he said, "if I still held the same views I once
+held?"
+
+This time he did not speak in a challenging tone, but with quiet
+seriousness.
+
+"Ah! That is right!" the Marchesa exclaimed. "Let us speak plainly! I
+hope and believe that a certain event will never take place, but should
+it take place, do not flatter yourself that there will be anything for
+you at my death, for I have already arranged matters so that there will
+be nothing."
+
+"Oh! as to that----" the young man began, with indifference.
+
+"That is the score you would have to settle with me," the Marchesa
+continued. "Then there would be a score to settle with God."
+
+"How is that?" Franco questioned. "God shall come first with me, and you
+afterwards!"
+
+When the Marchesa was caught in a mistake she always talked straight on
+as if nothing had happened.
+
+"And it will be a heavy score," said she.
+
+"But it must be settled first!" Franco insisted.
+
+"Because," the formidable old woman continued, "a good Christian is in
+duty bound to obey his father and his mother, and I represent both your
+father and your mother."
+
+If the one was obstinate, the other was no less so.
+
+"But God comes first!" said he.
+
+The Marchesa rang the bell and closed the conversation thus--
+
+"Now we understand each other perfectly."
+
+When Carlotta entered she rose from the sofa, and said, placidly--
+
+"Good-night."
+
+"Good-night," Franco answered, and resumed the _Milan Gazette_.
+
+As soon as his grandmother had left the room he flung the paper aside,
+clenched his fists, and giving vent to his anger in a sort of furious
+snort, sprang to his feet, saying aloud--
+
+"Ah! It is better so! Better, better so!" It was better so, he continued
+to assure himself mutely. Better never to bring Luisa to this accursed
+house, better never to oblige her to bear this rule, this arrogance,
+this voice, this face! Better to live on bread and water, and look to
+hard work for the rest, rather than to accept anything from his
+grandmother's hand. Better become a gardener, d---- it! a boatman, or a
+charcoal burner!
+
+He went up to his room determined to break with all obligations. "A
+score to settle with God!" he exclaimed, banging the door behind him. "A
+score to settle with God if I marry Luisa! Ah! after all, what do I
+care? Let them see me, spy upon me, bring her the news. Let them tell
+her, let them sing it to her in every key. I shall be delighted!"
+
+He dressed himself in feverish haste, knocking against the chairs, and
+closing the drawers with a bang. In his recklessness he put on a black
+suit, went noisily downstairs, called the old footman, told him he
+should be out all night, and, not heeding the half-astonished,
+half-terrified face of the poor fellow, who was devoted to him, rushed
+into the street, and was lost in the darkness.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He had been gone two or three minutes when the Marchesa, who was already
+in bed, sent Carlotta to see who had come running downstairs. Carlotta
+reported that it was Don Franco, and was at once dispatched again on a
+second errand. "What did Don Franco want?" This time the answer was,
+that Don Franco had gone out for a few moments. The "few moments" was
+added out of kindness by the old servant. The Marchesa told Carlotta to
+go away, but not to put out the light. "You will return when I ring,"
+said she.
+
+It was past midnight when the bell sounded.
+
+The maid hurried to her mistress.
+
+"Is Don Franco still out?"
+
+"Yes, Signora Marchesa."
+
+"Put out the light. Take your knitting and wait in the ante-room. When
+he returns come and tell me."
+
+Having given these orders, the Marchesa rolled over on her side, turning
+her face towards the wall, and leaving the amazed and ill-pleased maid
+to stare at that white, smooth, impenetrable enigma, her night-cap.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE GREAT STEP
+
+
+That same evening at exactly ten o'clock the engineer Ribera knocked
+gently twice on the door of Signor Giacomo Puttini's house at Albogasio
+Superiore. Presently a window above his head was opened, and a little,
+old, clean-shaven face of "Sior Zacomo" himself appeared in the
+moonlight.
+
+"Most worshipful engineer, my respects!" said he. "The servant is coming
+down to let you in."
+
+"That is not necessary," the other answered. "I am not coming up. It is
+time to start, so you had better join me at once."
+
+Signor Giacomo began to puff and wink hard.
+
+"You must pardon me," he said, in his peculiar dialect, which was a
+mixture of many elements. "You must pardon me, most worshipful engineer,
+but I really need----"
+
+"Need what?" said the engineer, somewhat annoyed. The door opened, and
+the keen and yellow face of the servant appeared.
+
+"Oh! _Scior Parento!_ Sir Relative!" said she respectfully. She claimed
+I know not what degree of relationship with the engineer's family, and
+always addressed him thus. "At this hour? Have you perhaps been to see
+the _Sciora Parenta_? The Lady Relative?"
+
+The "Lady Relative" was the engineer's sister, Signora Rigey.
+
+Ribera answered shortly: "Oh! Marianna! How are you?" and went upstairs
+followed by Marianna, carrying the light.
+
+"My respects," Signor Giacomo began, coming towards him with another
+light. "I understand and recognise the great inconvenience I am causing,
+but really----"
+
+Signor Giacomo's small, clean-shaven, pink face, rose above an enormous
+white stock, and a lean little body, buttoned up in a great, black
+overcoat, and in the convulsive workings of his lips and eyebrows as
+well as in his troubled eyes, the most comical anxiety was expressed.
+
+"What is the matter now?" asked the engineer, somewhat sharply. He, the
+most upright and straightforward man alive, had little sympathy with the
+hesitation of poor, timid Signor Giacomo.
+
+"Allow me," Puttini began, and, turning to the servant, said harshly:
+
+"Begone, you! Go into the kitchen. You will come when I call for you.
+Go, I say! Why don't you do what I tell you? Where is your respect for
+me? I command here! I am the master!"
+
+It was the servant's curiosity, her insolent disregard for the orders of
+her superior, which had provoked this outburst of despotic fury in
+"Sior Zacomo."
+
+"Whew! What a violent man!" she said, lifting the lamp on high. "There
+is no need to shout in that way! What do you think of it, _Scior
+Parento_?"
+
+"Look here!" the engineer exclaimed. "Would it not be better for you to
+take yourself off, instead of standing there and jabbering?"
+
+Marianna went away grumbling, and Signor Giacomo began to communicate
+his most secret thoughts to the worshipful engineer, interlarding his
+sentences with many _buts_ and _ifs_, _that is_ and _reallys_. He had
+promised to be present in the capacity of witness at Luisa's secret
+marriage, but now, when it was time to start for Castello, he was
+assailed by an overpowering fear of compromising himself.
+
+He was "first political deputy," as the highest communal authority was
+then called. If the worshipful Imperial and Royal Commissary of Porlezza
+should get wind of this affair, how would he look upon it? And the
+Marchesa? "A terrible woman, most worthy engineer! A vindictive woman!"
+Besides he had so many other worries! "There is that cursed bull!" This
+bull, a bone of contention between the town and the _alpador_, or tenant
+of the hill-pastures, had, for the last two years, been a moral incubus
+to poor Signor Giacomo, who, in speaking of his troubles and trials,
+always began with "that perfidious servant," and ended with "that
+cursed bull!" In speaking these words he would raise his small face, his
+eyes full of pained execration, and stretch out accusing hands towards
+the brow of the hill which overhung his house, towards the home of that
+fiendish beast. But the engineer, whose fine, honest features betrayed
+marked disapproval and a growing contempt for this cowardly little man,
+who stood wriggling there before him, exclaimed several times
+impatiently: "Oh, dear me!" as if pitying himself for the poor company
+he was in. Finally, his patience entirely exhausted, he extended his
+arms with the elbows turned outwards, and shaking them as if he were
+holding the reins of a lazy old horse, exclaimed: "What is all this?
+What is all this? It is absurd! This is the language of a fool, my good
+Signor Giacomo! I would never have believed that a man like you, a man
+let us say----"
+
+Here the engineer, being really at a loss for a suitable phrase
+wherewith to describe his companion, simply puffed out his cheeks,
+emitting a long-drawn-out rumble, a sort of rattling noise, as if he had
+an epithet in his mouth which was so big that he could not spit it out.
+Meanwhile Signor Giacomo, who had turned very red, was protesting
+eagerly: "Enough! Enough! Pray excuse me! I am quite ready! I will come!
+Don't get excited! I only expressed a doubt, most worshipful engineer.
+You know the world. So did I, at one time, but I know it no longer."
+
+He withdrew for a moment to reappear again presently carrying an
+enormously high hat with a broad brim, which had seen Ferdinand enter
+Verona in 1838, the so-called "emperor's year."
+
+"I feel this sign of respect and satisfaction is fitting," said he.
+
+When the engineer caught sight of the thing, he once more ejaculated his
+"What is all this?" But the little man, who had a ceremonious spirit,
+stuck to his point. "It is my duty, my duty!" and he called to Marianna
+to light them down stairs. When the servant saw her master with that
+immense "sign of satisfaction" on his head, she gave voice to her
+astonishment. "Hold your tongue!" puffed the unfortunate Signor Giacomo.
+"Be quiet!" and as soon as he was out of the door his wrath burst forth.
+"There is no doubt about it, that cursed servant will be the death of
+me!"
+
+"Why don't you send her away, then?" the engineer enquired.
+
+Signor Giacomo had already placed one foot on the first step of the
+narrow lane that leads upwards on one side of the Puttini house, when he
+was brought to a stand-still by this pointed question, which pierced his
+conscience like a dagger.
+
+"Alas!" he replied, sighing.
+
+"I understand," said the engineer.
+
+"Besides, what good would that do?" the other went on, after a short
+pause. "This is the same as that!"
+
+This old Venetian saying concerning the unfortunate identity of the two
+relative pronouns, Signor Giacomo pronounced as an epilogue, and then,
+puffing loudly, emitted a loud breath, and once more started forward.
+
+Puttini leading and the engineer following, they climbed steadily for a
+few minutes, up the steep and narrow path, dimly lighted by the moon
+which was hidden among the clouds. No sound was heard save their slow
+steps, the thumping of their sticks on the stones, and Signor Giacomo's
+regular puffing: "Apff! Apff!" At the foot of the narrow stairway
+leading to Pianca, the little man stopped, removed his hat, wiped away
+the perspiration with a big, white handkerchief, and glancing up at the
+great walnut-tree, and the stables of Pianca to which he must ascend,
+puffed harder than ever.
+
+"By the body of the rogue Bacchus!" he ejaculated.
+
+The engineer encouraged him. "Up with you, Signor Giacomo. It is all for
+love of Luisina."[E]
+
+Signor Giacomo started on again without a word, and when they reached
+the stables, beyond which the path becomes less rough, he seemed to
+forget the stairs, his scruples, the perfidious servant, the Imperial
+and Royal Commissary, the vindictive Marchesa and the cursed bull, and
+began talking of Signora Rigey with great enthusiasm.
+
+"There is no doubt about it, when I have the honour of being in the
+company of your niece, of Signorina Luisina, I assure you I really feel
+as if I were back into the days of Signora Baratela and the Filipuzze
+girls, of the three Sparesi sisters from San Piero Incarian, and of many
+others, whose graces used to charm me, in the old days. From time to
+time I go to see the Marchesa, and I sometimes meet the girls of to-day
+there. No--no--no, they do not behave in a becoming manner. They are
+either sullenly silent or over-talkative. But just look at Signorina
+Luisina, how easy is her manner with every one! She knows how to behave
+with young and old, rich and poor, the servant and the priest. I really
+fail to comprehend why the Marchesa----"
+
+The engineer interrupted him.
+
+"The Marchesa is right," said he. "My niece is neither of noble birth,
+nor has she a penny. How can you expect the Marchesa to be satisfied?"
+
+Signor Giacomo stopped short, rather disconcerted, and stared at the
+engineer, blinking his sorrowful eyes.
+
+"How is this? You don't really mean to say she is right?"
+
+"I never approve of acting contrary to the wishes of parents, or of
+those who represent the parents. But I, dear Signor Giacomo, am an
+old-fashioned man like yourself, a man of the time of Carlo Umberto, as
+they say hereabouts. Now, the world wags differently, and we must let it
+wag. Therefore, having expressed my opinions on this point, I said to my
+relatives: 'Now do as you like. But when you have decided one way or
+another, let me know what is to be done, and I shall be ready!'"
+
+"And what does Signora Teresina say?"
+
+"My sister? My sister, poor creature, says: 'If I can see them settled
+in life, I shall no longer dread death.'"
+
+Signor Giacomo breathed hard, as was his habit whenever he heard that
+last, unpleasant word pronounced.
+
+"But it is surely not so bad as that?" said he.
+
+"Who can tell?" the engineer replied, very seriously. "We must trust in
+the Almighty."
+
+They had reached a sharp bend where the narrow path, passing the last of
+the small fields belonging to the territory of Albogasio, turns towards
+the first of those belonging to Castello, and winds on, on the left,
+along the top of a jutting crag, suddenly coming in sight of a deep
+cleft in the mountain's bosom, of the lake far below, of the villages of
+Casarico and San Mamette, crouching on the shore as if in the act of
+drinking. Castello is perched a little higher up, and not far distant,
+facing the bare and forbidding peak of Cressogno, the whole of which is
+visible, from the gorges of Loggio to the sky. It is a beautiful spot
+even at night in the moonlight, but if Signor Giacomo paused there,
+striking a contemplative attitude and forgetting to puff, it was not
+because he considered the scene worthy of any one's attention, to say
+nothing of that of a political deputy, but because, having a weighty
+argument to expound, he felt the necessity of concentrating all his
+strength in his brain, and of suspending all other effort, even that of
+the legs.
+
+"That is a fine maxim," said he. "Let us trust in the Almighty. Yes, my
+dear sir. But permit me to observe that in our time we were always
+hearing of prayers being answered, of conversions and miracles. Am I not
+correct? But now the world is not the same, and it appears to me the
+Almighty is sick of it all. The world is in much the same condition as
+our parish church at Albogasio, which the Almighty used to visit once a
+month. Now He comes only once a year."
+
+"Listen, my good Signor Giacomo," said the engineer, who was impatient
+to reach Castello. "The Almighty is not to blame because the parish has
+been transferred from one church to another. However, we will push on,
+and let the Almighty arrange things as He thinks best."
+
+Whereupon he started forwarded so briskly that presently Signor Giacomo
+was obliged to stop again, puffing like a pair of bellows.
+
+"Pardon me," said he, "if I yield, in a measure, to that curiosity which
+is inborn in man. Might one inquire your worshipful age?"
+
+The engineer understood the hidden meaning of his question, and
+answered in a low tone, with triumphant and ironical meekness--
+
+"I am older than you!"
+
+And he started off again at the same cruel pace.
+
+"I was born in '88, you know," Puttini groaned.
+
+"And I, in '85!" Ribera flung over his shoulder, without stopping. "Now
+come along."
+
+Fortunately for Puttini they had only a few steps more to go. There was
+the great wall that supported the consecrated ground about the church of
+Castello, and there was the narrow stairway leading up to the entrance
+of the village. Now they must turn into the dark passage below the
+priest's house, feeling their way along like blind men through this
+black hole, in which Signor Giacomo's imagination pictured so many
+treacherous and slippery stones, so many accursed, deceitful steps, that
+he stopped short, and, resting his clasped hands on the knob of his
+stick, spoke as follows--
+
+"By the body of the rogue Bacchus! No, most worshipful engineer, no, no,
+no! Really I cannot. I shall remain here. They will surely come to
+church. The church is near by. I shall wait here. Body of the rogue
+Bacchus!"
+
+This last "Body!" Signor Giacomo ground privately between his teeth,
+like the close of an inward soliloquy concerning the accessories
+surrounding the exceeding discomfort he was undergoing.
+
+"Wait a minute," said the engineer.
+
+A thread of light appeared under the church door. The engineer entered
+and presently came out again, accompanied by the sacristan, who had been
+preparing the hassocks for the bride and groom. He now brought to
+Puttini's rescue the long pole with a lighted taper at the end, which
+was used to light the candles on the altars. Thus, standing in the
+church door, he moved the taper along in front of Signor Giacomo's feet
+as far as the pole would reach, while that gentleman, but ill-satisfied
+with this religious illumination, groped his way forward, grumbling at
+the darkness, the miserable, sacred taper, and at him who held it, until
+at last, abandoned by the sacristan, and seized by the engineer, he was
+dragged along, much like a pike at the end of a line, and, in spite of
+his mute resistance, was finally landed on the threshold of Casa Rigey.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Castello the houses which stand in unbroken line on the winding
+hill-top, enjoying the sun and the view of the lake far below, all white
+and smiling on the side towards the open, all dark on the side towards
+that other row of less fortunate houses, which rise sadly behind them,
+resemble certain favoured individuals, who, brought into too close
+contact with misery, assume a hostile demeanour, and press close to one
+another that, thus united, they may hold the others in check. Among
+these fortunate ones Casa Rigey is one of the darkest on the side facing
+the poverty of the common houses, one of the brightest on the side
+facing the sun.
+
+From the street door a long and narrow corridor leads to a small, open
+loggia, from which, by means of a few steps, one may descend to the
+little white terrace which, between the reception room and a high,
+windowless wall, stretches out to the edge of the hill, looking down
+into the ravines from which issues the Soldo, looking down upon the
+lake, as far as the green gulfs of the Birosin and of the Doi, as far as
+the quiet sweeps beyond Caprino and Gandria.
+
+Signor Rigey, born in Milan of a French father, had been professor of
+the French language at Madame Berra's boarding school, but he had lost
+his position there, and most of his private pupils, because it was
+rumoured of him that he was irreligious. In 1825 he had purchased this
+little house, and retired to it from Milan, wishing to live economically
+and peacefully. He had, soon afterwards, married the sister of the
+civil-engineer Ribera. Dying in 1844 he left his wife with a daughter of
+fifteen, the house and a few thousand _svanziche_.[F]
+
+Hardly had the engineer knocked somewhat noisily at the door, when
+light, swift steps were heard in the corridor. The door was thrown open
+and a voice neither low nor silvery, but indescribably harmonious,
+whispered: "What a noise, Uncle!" "Noise indeed!" her uncle replied
+with mock dignity. "Am I then expected to knock with my nose?" His niece
+placed one hand over his mouth, and with the other drew him inside; then
+she saluted Signor Giacomo gracefully, and closed the door. All this was
+accomplished in the twinkling of an eye, while Signor Giacomo himself
+was puffing out: "Your most humble servant! I am really delightful----"
+"Thank you, thank you!" said Luisa. "Pray go in, I have a word to say to
+Uncle."
+
+The little man went forward, hat in hand, and the young girl tenderly
+embraced her old uncle, kissing him, pressing her face to his breast,
+and clasping her arms about his neck.
+
+"Won't that do now?" said the engineer, almost as if to check these
+caresses, for in them he felt a gratitude which he feared would
+presently take the form of words. "There, there! That is enough! How is
+Mamma?" Luisa's only reply was a tightening of her embrace. This uncle
+was more than a father to her, he was the special Providence of the
+house, but, in his great and simple bounty, he never dreamed that he had
+the slightest claim to the gratitude of his sister and niece. Whatever
+would these poor women have done without him, possessing only that
+meagre sum of twelve or fifteen thousand _svanziche_ which Rigey had
+left? As civil-engineer, employed on public works, Ribera enjoyed a good
+salary. He lived frugally at Como with an old housekeeper, passing his
+savings on to Casa Rigey. At first he had openly and heartily
+disapproved of Luisa's attachment for Franco, for it seemed to him that
+such a union would be but ill-assorted; but the young people being
+determined, and his sister having consented, he made up his mind to help
+them in every possible way, keeping his opinions to himself.
+
+"And Mamma?" he repeated.
+
+"She was feeling very well this evening because she was so happy, but
+now she is agitated, for Franco came about half an hour ago, and told
+her he has had something of a scene with his grandmother----"
+
+"Oh dear me!" the engineer exclaimed. Whenever he heard of a misfortune
+befalling any one else he always uttered this expression of
+self-commiseration.
+
+"No, Uncle! Indeed Franco is right!"
+
+Luisa pronounced these words with sudden warmth. "Yes indeed!" she
+exclaimed, her uncle having uttered a doubtful "Hm!" "He is perfectly
+right. But," she added in a low tone, "he says he left home in such a
+manner that his grandmother will probably discover everything."
+
+"It will be better so," said her uncle, starting towards the terrace.
+
+The moon had set and it was dark. Luisa whispered: "Mamma is here."
+
+Signora Teresa, who was suffering for want of breath, had had herself
+drawn out into the terrace in her easy-chair, hoping to find relief in
+the open air.
+
+"What do you say to this, Piero?" said a voice resembling Luisa's in
+tone, but sweeter and with a tired ring; a voice that seemed to come
+from a gentle heart which the world has used harshly, and which must
+yield. "What do you say to this? After all, our precautions will be of
+no avail."
+
+"No, no, Mamma. We are not sure of that. We cannot say so yet!"
+
+While Luisa was speaking, Franco, who was in the salon with the curate,
+came out to embrace the engineer.
+
+"Well," said Ribera, extending his hand, for embraces were little to his
+taste. "What has happened?"
+
+Franco related what had taken place, softening somewhat certain too
+offensive expressions of his grandmother's concerning the Rigeys,
+concealing her threat of not leaving him a penny, and blaming his own
+over-susceptibility rather than the old-woman's ill-nature, and finally
+confessing that he had purposely let it be known that he intended to
+remain out all night. This could have no other effect than that of
+leading his grandmother to an immediate discovery, for she would
+question him concerning this absence, and his silence would be a
+confession, for he did not intend to lie about this matter.
+
+"Listen!" Uncle Piero exclaimed, with the ringing voice and open
+countenance of the perfectly straightforward man who, being smothered to
+the point of suffocation with precautions and dissimulations, finally
+strikes out from the shoulder and, casting them off, breathes freely
+once more. "I admit you were wrong to irritate your grandmother, for,
+after all, old people must be respected even when they err; I see that
+the consequences may be serious, but nevertheless I am glad things are
+as they are, and I should be more glad if you had told your grandmother
+everything, clearly and roundly. I have never had any patience with all
+this secrecy, all this feigning and hiding. The honest man openly
+confesses his actions. You desire to marry against your grandmother's
+wishes? Well do so, but, at least, don't deceive her."
+
+"But Piero!" Signora Teresa exclaimed, who, besides a delicate
+perception of what life should be, possessed an accurate sense of what
+life really is, and, being much more given to religious exercises than
+her brother, and standing on a more familiar footing with the Almighty,
+could most easily persuade herself that He would make certain
+concessions in the matter of form, when some substantial benefit was to
+be gained.
+
+"But Piero! You don't think! If the Marchesa finds out about the
+marriage this way, she will, of course, refuse to receive Luisa into her
+house, and then what are the children to do? Where can they go? There is
+no room here, and even if there were, nothing is ready. At your house
+it is the same. You must consider all these points. If we wished to keep
+the marriage a secret for a month or two, it was not in order to
+deceive, it was to gain time in which to win over Franco's grandmother,
+and if she would not yield, to prepare one or two rooms at Oria."
+
+"Oh, dear me!" said the engineer, "Does it take two months to do that?
+It seems incredible!"
+
+At this point a prolonged puff in the shadow reminded them of Signor
+Giacomo's presence; he was leaning against the wall in one corner not
+daring to move, because it was so dark.
+
+Signora Teresa had not yet welcomed him.
+
+"Oh, Signor Giacomo!" she now hastened to say. "I beg your pardon. I am
+really so very, very much obliged to you! Pray come this way. Did you
+hear what we were saying? Do let us have your opinion."
+
+"Your very humble servant," said Signor Giacomo from his corner. "Really
+I dare not move, for with my poor sight----"
+
+"Luisa!" Signora Teresa called. "Bring a lamp. But did you hear, Signor
+Giacomo? What do you think about it? Do tell us."
+
+In his profound wisdom Signor Giacomo emitted three or four little hasty
+puffs which meant: Ah, this is indeed an embarrassing question!
+
+"I cannot say," he began hesitatingly, "I cannot say at present, being
+in the dark----"
+
+"Luisa!" Signora Teresa called once more.
+
+"No, no, Signora! I mean being in the dark on so many points. I feel
+that in my ignorance I may not pronounce an opinion. Still I will say it
+seems to me that perhaps it might ... well, at any rate, I am here at
+your service and at the service of this most respected family, though
+indeed I should not be astonished if the Imperial and Royal
+Commissary--a most excellent person, but very punctilious.... But
+enough, we will not talk of that, for here I am. But I do say, it seems
+to me that we might wait a little while, and our most noble friend Don
+Franco here might be able to wheedle and persuade.... Well, well, well.
+Do as you like. It is all the same to me."
+
+A furious protest on Franco's part had caused Signor Giuseppe to face
+about thus suddenly. Luisa seconded this protest, and Signora Teresa,
+who now would perhaps have been in favour of a postponement, did not
+venture to oppose their wishes.
+
+"Luisa, Franco," said she, "take me back to the salon."
+
+The two young people pushed the easy-chair into the salon, followed by
+Uncle Piero and Signor Giacomo.
+
+On the threshold Luisa, bending over her mother, kissed her hair, and
+murmured: "You will see. All will be for the best."
+
+She had expected to find the curate in the salon, but he had slipped
+away through the kitchen.
+
+Hardly had Franco and Luisa pushed the invalid's chair up to the table
+upon which stood the lamp, when the sacristan came to say that
+everything was ready. Signora Teresa asked him to inform the curate that
+the bride and groom would go to church in half an hour.
+
+"Luisa!" said she, glancing meaningly at her daughter.
+
+"Yes, Mamma," the girl replied, and turning to her lover, said in a low
+tone: "Franco, Mamma wishes to speak with you."
+
+Signor Giacomo understood, and went out to the terrace. The engineer did
+not understand at all, and his niece had to explain to him that her
+mother was to be left alone with Franco. The simple-minded man could see
+no reason for this, but she took his arm and, smiling, led him away to
+the terrace.
+
+Signora Teresa silently held out her beautiful hand, which was still
+youthful in its curves, and Franco, kneeling, kissed it.
+
+"Poor Franco," said she gently.
+
+Then she made him rise from his knees and sit close to her. She must
+speak to him, she said, and her breath was so short. But he would
+understand much from a few words, would he not?
+
+In speaking these words her voice was infinitely sweet.
+
+"You must know," she began, "that I had not intended to say this to you,
+but I thought of it when you spoke about breaking the plate at the
+dinner-table. I beg you to be careful on account of Uncle Piero's
+position. In his heart he feels as you do. If you only could have seen
+the letters he wrote me in 1848! But he is a servant of the Government.
+It is true his conscience is perfectly easy, for he knows that by
+engineering roads and water-works he is serving his country and not the
+Germans. But he must and will take certain precautions, and you--for
+love of him--must be cautious also."
+
+"The Germans will soon be gone, Mamma!" Franco replied. "But do not
+worry; you shall see how prudent I will be."
+
+"Oh, my dear! I have little more to see, I have only to see you two
+united and blessed by the Lord. When the Germans go, you will come to
+Looch to tell me of it."
+
+Those small fields where the little cemetery of Castello is situated go
+by the name of Looch.
+
+"But I had intended to speak to you of another matter," Signora Teresa
+went on, without giving Franco time to protest. He took her hands and
+pressed them, with difficulty restraining his tears.
+
+"I must speak to you of Luisa," she said. "You must know your wife
+well."
+
+"I do know her, Mamma! I know her as well as you do, and perhaps even
+better."
+
+As he pronounced these words his whole being glowed and quivered in his
+passionate love for her who was the life of his life, the soul of his
+soul.
+
+"Poor Franco!" said Signora Teresa, smiling tenderly. "No, listen to me,
+for there is something you do not know, of which you should be informed.
+Wait a moment."
+
+She needed to rest. Her emotion made her breathing more laboured, and
+she spoke with greater difficulty than usual. She motioned to Franco not
+to move, for she saw he was about to rise, that he might do something to
+relieve her. Only a little repose was necessary, and she took it,
+resting her head against the chair-back.
+
+Presently she roused herself. "You have probably heard many evil
+accounts of my poor husband, at your own home. You will have heard that
+he was an unprincipled man, and that I did very wrong to marry him. It
+is true he was not religious, and for that reason I hesitated some time
+before deciding to accept him. I was advised to do so because it was
+thought I might have a good influence over this man, who had a most
+noble soul. He died a Christian, and I have every hope of meeting him in
+Heaven, if the Lord, in His mercy, shall see fit to receive me there.
+But up to the very last hour it seemed as if I were not to accomplish
+anything. Now, I fear my Luisa has her father's tendencies in her heart.
+She hides them from me, but I feel they are there. I commend her to you;
+study her, advise her; she is gifted and has a great heart, and if I
+have not known how to do well by her, you must do better. You are a good
+Christian: see that, with all her heart, she also becomes one. Promise
+me this, Franco."
+
+He promised, smiling, as if he considered her fears groundless, and were
+making this superfluous promise simply to satisfy her.
+
+The invalid gazed sadly at him. "Believe me," she added, "these are not
+fancies. I cannot die in peace if you do not take this matter
+seriously." And when the young man had repeated his promise, this time
+without smiling, she said--
+
+"One word more. When you leave here you will go to Professor
+Gilardoni's, will you not?"
+
+"That was my first plan. I was to have told my grandmother that I was
+going to sleep at Gilardoni's house, as we were to start on an excursion
+together in the morning. But now, you know how I left home."
+
+"Still you had better go there. I had rather you went there, and
+besides, he expects you, does he not? So you must go. Poor Gilardoni! He
+has never been here since his fit of madness, two years ago. You know
+about that, do you not? Luisa has told you?"
+
+"Yes, Mamma."
+
+This Professor Gilardoni, who lived like a hermit at Casarico, had
+fallen most romantically in love with Signora Teresa some years before,
+and had timidly presented himself to her as a suitor. She had received
+his proposal with such utter amazement that he had lacked courage to
+appear before her again.
+
+"Poor man!" Signora Rigey continued, "that was a most stupid action, but
+he has a heart of gold, and is a true friend. I wish you to cherish him.
+The day before he had that mad fit, he confided a secret to me. I may
+not repeat to you what he said, and moreover, I beg you not to mention
+the subject to him unless he speaks to you about it; but it is, in fact,
+something which, under certain circumstances, might be of great
+importance to you two, especially if you have children. If Gilardoni
+should confide in you, reflect seriously before telling Luisa. She might
+look at the matter in a wrong light. Consider the question carefully,
+consult Uncle Piero, and then speak or remain silent according to the
+line of action you may have determined to adopt."
+
+"Yes, Mamma."
+
+There was a gentle tap at the door, and Luisa's voice said: "Have you
+finished?"
+
+Franco looked at the invalid. "Come in," said she. "Is it time to go?"
+
+Luisa did not answer, but threw one arm around Franco's neck, and
+together they knelt before the mother, their heads buried in her lap.
+Luisa tried her best to restrain her tears, knowing well that her mother
+should be spared all violent emotion, but her heaving shoulders betrayed
+her.
+
+"No, Luisa, no, dear, no!" said her mother, caressing her bowed head. "I
+am grateful to you, for you have always been a good daughter dear; such
+a good daughter! Calm yourself; I am so happy! You will see, I shall
+get better. Now go. Kiss me, both of you, and then go. You must not keep
+the curate waiting. May God bless you, Luisa, and you also, Franco!"
+
+She asked for her prayer-book, drew the lamp towards her, had the
+windows and the door leading to the terrace thrown open that she might
+breathe more easily, and then dismissed the maid, who was prepared to
+keep her company. When the young couple had left the room, the engineer
+came in to greet his sister before going to church.
+
+"Good-by, Teresa."
+
+"Good-by, Piero. Another load is laid on your shoulders, my poor Piero."
+
+"Amen!" the engineer answered, calmly.
+
+When she was alone Signora Rigey sat listening to the receding
+footsteps. The heavy steps of her brother and Signor Giacomo bringing up
+the rear, prevented her hearing those others, which she strained her ear
+to follow as far as possible.
+
+Another moment and the sounds ceased. She realised that Luisa and Franco
+were going away together into the future, whither she might follow them
+only for a few months, perhaps only for a few days; that she could
+neither divine nor foresee what their fate would be. "Poor children!"
+she thought. "Who knows what they may have passed through in five years,
+in ten years." She listened again, but the silence was profound; the
+open window admitted only the far-away thundering of the cascades of
+Rescia, over across the lake. Then, thinking that they must already have
+entered the church, she took her prayer-book, and read attentively.
+
+But she soon grew weary; her brain was confused, and the words of the
+book blurred before her eyes.
+
+Her mind was becoming drowsy, her will-power was lost. She foresaw the
+approach of a vision of unreal things, but she knew she was not asleep,
+she understood that this was not a dream, but a condition produced by
+her malady. She saw the door leading to the kitchen open, and there
+entered old Gilardoni from Dasio, called "el Carlin de Das," father of
+the Professor and agent of the Maironi family, for the estates in
+Valsolda--he had been dead five-and-twenty years. The figure came
+forward, and said, in a natural voice: "Oh, Signora Teresa! Are you
+quite well?" She thought she answered--"Oh, Carlin! I am quite well; and
+how are you?" But in reality she did not speak.
+
+"I've got the letter here," the figure continued, waving a letter
+triumphantly. "I've brought it here for you!" And he placed the letter
+on the table.
+
+Signora Teresa saw it quite plainly. A letter, soiled and yellowed by
+time, without an envelope, and still bearing traces of a little red
+wafer, lay before her and she experienced a sense of lively
+satisfaction. She thought she said: "Thank you, Carlin. Are you going to
+Dasio, now?"
+
+"No, Signora," Carlin replied. "I am going to Casarico to see my son."
+
+The invalid could no longer distinguish Carlin, but she saw the letter
+on the table, saw it distinctly. Still she was not sure it was there; in
+her sluggish brain the vague memory of other past hallucinations still
+endured, the memory of the disease, which was her enemy, her cruel
+master. Her eyes were glassy, her breathing laboured and rapid.
+
+The sound of hastening footsteps roused her, and recalled her almost
+completely to herself. When Luisa and Franco came swiftly into the room
+from the terrace they did not notice that their mother's face was
+distorted, for the lamp was heavily shaded. Kneeling before her they
+covered her with kisses, attributing that laboured breathing to emotion.
+Suddenly the invalid raised her head from the chair-back and stretched
+out her hands, pointing to something at which she was looking fixedly.
+
+"The letter!" she said.
+
+The young people turned, but saw nothing.
+
+"What letter, Mamma?" Luisa asked. At the same moment she noticed her
+mother's expression, and warned Franco by a glance. This was not the
+first time that Signora Teresa had suffered from hallucinations since
+her illness began. At the question, "What letter?" everything became
+clear to her. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and withdrawing her hands, buried her
+face in them, weeping silently.
+
+Comforted by her children's caresses she soon composed herself, kissed
+them, extended her hand to her brother and Signor Giacomo, who did not
+in the least understand what had happened, and then motioned to Luisa to
+go and get something. It was a question of a cake and a precious bottle
+of wine from Niscioree, which, together with some others, had been sent
+some time before by the Marchese Bianchi, to whom Signora Teresa was an
+object of special veneration.
+
+Signor Giacomo, who was longing to be off, began to fidget and puff, and
+glance towards the engineer.
+
+"Signora Luisina," said he, seeing the bride about to leave the room.
+"Pray excuse me, but I was just going to take leave of----"
+
+"No, no!" Signora Rigey exclaimed, with only a thread of voice. "Wait a
+little longer."
+
+Luisa disappeared, and Franco slipped out of the room behind his wife.
+Signora Teresa was suddenly assailed by scruples, and signed to her
+brother to call him back.
+
+"Nonsense!" said the engineer.
+
+"But Piero!"
+
+"Well?"
+
+The ancient and austere traditions of her house, a delicate sense of
+dignity, perhaps also a religious scruple, because the young couple had
+not yet received the benediction of the nuptial Mass, would neither
+allow Signora Teresa to approve of their withdrawing together, nor to
+explain her views on the subject. Her reticence and Uncle Piero's
+fatherly benevolence gave Franco time to place himself beyond the
+possibility of recall. Signora Teresa did not insist.
+
+"Forever!" she murmured presently, as if speaking to herself. "United
+forever!"
+
+"You and I," said the engineer, addressing his colleague in celibacy in
+the Venetian dialect, "you and I, Signor Giacomo, never go in for any
+such nonsense!"
+
+"You are always in good spirits, most worshipful engineer!" Signor
+Giacomo answered, while his conscience was telling him that in his time
+he had gone in for far worse "nonsense."
+
+The bride and groom did not return.
+
+"Signor Giacomo," the engineer continued, "there will be no going to bed
+for us to-night."
+
+The unfortunate man writhed, puffed and winked hard but did not reply.
+
+Still the bride and groom were absent.
+
+"Piero," said Signora Teresa, "ring the bell."
+
+"Signor Giacomo," the engineer began, composedly, "shall we ring the
+bell?"
+
+"That would seem to be the Signora's wish," the little man replied,
+steering his course as best he could between the brother and sister.
+"However, I express no opinion."
+
+"Piero!" his sister pleaded.
+
+"Come, let us have an answer," Uncle Piero continued without moving.
+"What would you do? Would you, or would you not ring this bell?"
+
+"For pity's sake!" Signor Giacomo groaned. "You really must excuse me."
+
+"I will excuse nothing!"
+
+The young people were still absent, and the mother growing more and more
+anxious, repeated--
+
+"Piero, I tell you to ring!"
+
+Signor Giacomo, who was dying to get away, and who could not leave
+without saluting the bride and groom, encouraged by Signora Teresa's
+insistence, made a great effort, turned very red and finally pronounced
+an opinion: "I should ring."
+
+"My dear Signor Giacomo," the engineer exclaimed, "I am surprised,
+amazed and astonished!" Who can say why, when he was in good spirits,
+and had occasion to use one of these synonyms, he would always string
+the three together? "However," he concluded, "let us ring."
+
+And he proceeded to ring very gently.
+
+"Listen, Piero," said Signora Teresa. "Remember that when you leave,
+Franco is to go with you. He will return at half-past five for the
+Mass."
+
+"Oh dear me!" Uncle Piero exclaimed. "How many difficulties! But after
+all, are they or are they not husband and wife?--Well, well," he added,
+seeing that his sister was beginning to grow excited, "do just as you
+like!"
+
+Instead of the young couple the maid appeared, bringing the cake and the
+bottle, and told the engineer that Signorina Luisina begged him to come
+out to the terrace for a moment.
+
+"Now that something good is coming at last, you send me outside!" said
+the engineer. He jested with his usual serenity of spirit, perhaps
+because he did not fully realize his sister's serious condition, perhaps
+because of his naturally pacific attitude towards all that was
+inevitable.
+
+He went out to the terrace where Luisa and Franco were waiting for him.
+
+"Listen, Uncle," his niece began. "My husband says that his grandmother
+will surely discover everything at once; that he will not be able to
+remain at Cressogno any longer; that if Mamma were stronger we might all
+go to your house at Oria, but, unfortunately, that is not possible as
+matters stand at present. So he thinks we might arrange a room here--any
+way to get it ready quickly. We had thought of poor Papa's study. What
+do you say to this plan?"
+
+"Hm!" ejaculated Uncle Piero, who was slow to take up with new ideas.
+"It seems to me a very hasty resolution. You will be incurring expense
+and turning the house upside down, for an arrangement which can only be
+temporary."
+
+His one idea was to have the whole family at Oria, and this expedient
+did not suit him. He feared that if the young people once settled down
+at Castello they would remain there. Luisa used every argument to
+persuade him that there was no other way, and that neither the outlay
+nor the trouble would be great. On leaving home her husband would go
+directly to Lugano, and bring back what few pieces of furniture were
+absolutely indispensable. Uncle Piero asked if Franco could not take up
+his quarters at Oria, remaining there until such a time as she and her
+mother could join him. "Oh, Uncle!" Luisa exclaimed. Had she known about
+the bell she would have been still more astonished by a similar
+proposal. But sometimes this good man had artless ideas of this sort, at
+which his sister smiled. Luisa had no difficulty in finding arguments
+against his plan for banishing Franco, and she used them with warmth.
+"Enough!" said Uncle Piero calmly, though he was not convinced; and he
+arched his wide-spread arms with the gesture of the _Dominus vobiscum_,
+more charitably inclined, more ready to enfold poor humanity in a tender
+embrace than before. "_Fiat!_ Oh, by the way," he added, turning to
+Franco, "how about money?"
+
+Franco shivered, much embarrassed.
+
+"You know he is our father!" his wife said.
+
+"Not by any means your father," Uncle Piero observed placidly. "Not by
+any means, but what is mine is yours; so I shall line your pockets as
+well as my means will permit."
+
+And he suffered, without returning it, the embrace which told of their
+gratitude, almost as if vexed by this unnecessary demonstration, vexed
+that they should not accept more simply an act which to him seemed so
+simple and natural. "Yes, yes!" said he, "now let us go in and drink;
+it will be far more profitable!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The wine of Niscioree, clear and red as a ruby, at once delicate and
+strong, flattered and soothed the inner-man of the impatient Signor
+Giacomo, who, in those years of _oidium_, seldom wet his lips in
+undiluted wine, but gloomily sipped the Grimelli wine, of watery memory.
+
+"_Est_, _est_,[G] is it not, Signor Giacomo?" said Uncle Piero, seeing
+Puttini gaze with devoted eyes into the glass he held. "But here at
+least, there is no danger of expiring like a certain man: _et propter
+nimium est dominus meus mortuus est_."
+
+"I feel as if I were being resuscitated," Signor Giacomo answered,
+speaking very slowly and almost under his breath, his gaze still fixed
+on the glass.
+
+"Then you must give us a toast," the other said, rising. "But if you
+will not speak, why then I must do so," and he recited merrily--
+
+    "Long live he and long live she,
+    And now we'll be off, and leave them free!"
+
+Signor Giacomo emptied his glass, puffed loudly and winked hard, in
+consequence of the varied sentiments which were running riot in his
+soul, while the last perfume, the last flavour of the wine were fading
+in his mouth. He offered his duty to the "most revered" Signora Teresa,
+his devotion to the "most amiable" little bride, his respects to the
+"most accomplished" young husband. Then, gesticulating with head and
+arms, he declared himself undeserving of the thanks which were being
+lavished upon him, and taking his great hat and his stick, he
+started--humble and puffing, with mingled feelings of relief and
+regret--to follow the placid bulk of the "most worshipful" engineer.
+
+"And you, Franco?" Signora Teresa enquired immediately.
+
+"I am going," he replied.
+
+"Come here," said she. "I received you so badly when you returned from
+church, my poor children! You see I had had one of my bad attacks; I
+think you understood. But now I feel so well, so peaceful! Lord, I thank
+Thee! it seems to me I have set my house in order, have put out the fire
+and said my prayers; and now I am going to sleep, so well satisfied! But
+not so very soon, dear, not at once. I leave you my Luisa, dear; I leave
+you Uncle Piero. I know you will love them very much, will you not? But
+you must remember me also. Ah, dear Lord! how sorry I am I shall not see
+your children! That is indeed a grief to me! You must give them a kiss
+every day for their poor grandmother ... every day. And now go, my son,
+but you will be back by half-past five? Yes, dear.... Good-by ... now
+go."
+
+She spoke caressingly to him, as to a child who does not yet understand,
+and he wept silently, with tender emotion, kissing her hands over and
+over again, and glad Luisa was present to witness this scene, for in his
+immense tenderness for the mother, there was his immense joy at being
+one with the daughter, and an intense desire to love all that his wife
+loved, and in the same measure.
+
+"Go," Mamma Teresa repeated, fearing her own increasing emotion. "Go,
+go!"
+
+At last he obeyed and went out with Luisa.
+
+On this occasion also Luisa was absent a long time, but even the holiest
+souls have their little weaknesses, and although the maid was
+constantly coming and going between the kitchen and the salon, Signora
+Teresa, touched by the affection which Franco had displayed for her,
+never once ordered her to ring the bell.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[E] _Luisina_: little Luisa, _ina_ being a diminutive. [_Translator's
+note._]
+
+[F] _Svanziche_: a coin varying from 90 to 95 centimes. [_Translator's
+note._]
+
+[G] _Est_, _est_: Canon Johannes Fugger of Augsburg travelling in Italy in
+the twelfth century, directed his steward to precede him, and inscribe
+the word _Est_ on the door of the inn where the best wine was to be had.
+On reaching Montefiascone, the worthy canon found the word _Est_ written
+three times on the tavern door, and indeed, the muscatel of this
+district proved so much to his taste that he never left Montefiascone,
+but ended his days there in the year 1113 or thereabouts, and was buried
+in the church of S. Flaviano, where his tomb may still be seen. His
+steward caused the following inscription to be carved upon the
+sarcophagus:
+
+    Est, Est, Est. Propter nimium est,
+    Johannes de Fuc., D. meus, mortuus est.
+
+It is said that the wine-loving prelate left orders that a barrel of the
+very best muscatel should be spilled over his tomb every year on the
+anniversary of his death, and this ceremony was faithfully performed
+down to the end of the seventeenth century, when it was forbidden by a
+certain Cardinal Barbarigi, of unconvivial memory. The best wine of
+Montescone is still called _Est_, _Est_. [_Translator's note._]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+CARLIN'S LETTER
+
+
+Franco went down the hill very, very slowly, absorbed in the world of
+things within him, so crowded with thoughts and with new sensations.
+Stopping every now and then to contemplate the grey road and the small
+dark fields, he would touch the leaves of a grape-vine or the stones of
+a low wall, in order to feel the reality of the external world, to
+convince himself that he was not dreaming. Not until he had reached the
+Contrada dei Mal'ari in Casarico, and was standing before the little
+door of Gilardoni's tiny house, did he recall Mamma Teresa's dark words
+concerning the secret Gilardoni had imparted to her, and he wondered
+what this mystery could be, which must not be revealed to Luisa. To tell
+the truth the mother's advice had not satisfied him entirely. "How could
+I ever hide anything from my wife?" he thought as he knocked at the
+door.
+
+Professor Beniamino Gilardoni, son of "Carlin de Daas," had been
+educated at the expense of old Don Franco Maironi, Marchesa Orsola's
+husband, an eccentric man, capricious and violent, but at the same
+time, very generous. When Carlin died it became apparent that Maironi's
+generosity had not been necessary. Beniamino inherited quite a little
+hoard, and this maddened Don Franco, who held him responsible for the
+paternal hypocrisy, turned his back upon him, and would have nothing
+more to do with him for the short time he survived his agent. The young
+man chose the career of teacher, was professor of Latin at the gymnasium
+of Cremona, and of philosophy at the lyceum of Udine. Of a delicate
+constitution, apprehensive of physical suffering, and extremely
+misanthropical, he resigned his professorship in 1842, and came to
+Valsolda to enjoy the modest fortune his father had left him. Dasio, his
+native village, perched just below the dolomitic rocks of the Arabione,
+was too high up and inconvenient for him. He sold his possessions there,
+purchased the olive-grove of Sedorgg above Casarico, and a small villa
+on the edge of the lake, in Casarico itself. It was so small as to be
+almost a toy villa, and from its shape he called it the "Greek _II_ or
+Pi" in imitation of the "Digamma" of Ugo Foscolo. From the Contrada dei
+Mal'ari a short passage led to the little courtyard flanked by a tiny
+portico, open on the lake-side and surrounded by tall oleanders. It
+overlooked six miles of water, green, grey or blue, according to the
+hour, as far as Monte S. Salvatore there in the distance, stooping,
+under the burden of its melancholy hump, towards the humble hills of
+Carona beneath it. On the east of the little house there was a
+kitchen-garden, fabulously large for that part of the world, the
+dimensions of which Engineer Ribera was wont to define by means of the
+following surveyor's description: "Large field called _il Campone_,
+measuring seven _tavole_." Now seven _tavole_ correspond to twenty or
+twenty-two square metres! The Professor cultivated it with the aid of
+his little servant Giuseppe, called Pinella, and of a small collection
+of French treatises. He sent to France for the seeds of the most highly
+esteemed qualities of vegetables, which sometimes came up in shameless
+disregard of their certificates of baptism, and indeed of any honestly
+baptised family. It would then happen that philosopher and servant,
+stooping over the beds, their hands on their knees, would raise their
+eyes from these mocking sprouts, and gaze at each other, the philosopher
+honestly disappointed, the servant hypocritically so. In one corner of
+the garden, in a little stable constructed according to the most
+approved principles, dwelt a small Swiss cow, which had been purchased
+after three months of diligent study, and had turned out as delicate and
+fleshless as the master himself, who--in spite of the Swiss cow and four
+Paduan hens--often found it impossible to make himself a cup of custard
+in his own house. In the wall supporting the garden on the lake-side,
+against whose base the _breva_ drove the swelling waves, he had made
+some openings in which, following Franco Maironi's advice, he had
+planted many American aloes, many roses and some caper-bushes, thus
+binding together the substantial contents of his kitchen-garden, as he
+was wont to say, with poetic elegance of form. And for the love of the
+poetic, he had left a small corner of his kitchen-garden uncultivated.
+The tallest of reeds had sprung up there, and in front of these reeds
+the Professor had erected a sort of belvedere, a lofty, wooden platform,
+very rustic and primitive, where, in pleasant weather, he passed many
+happy hours with the mystic books he loved, enjoying the coolness of the
+_breva_, and the murmuring of reeds and waves. At a distance the colour
+of the platform could not be distinguished from that of the reeds, and
+the Professor looked as if he were seated on air, book in hand, like any
+magician. In the little salon he kept the small collection of works on
+kitchen-gardening, the mystic books, the treatises on necromancy, and
+gnosticism. The writings on hallucinations and dreams he kept in a tiny
+study adjoining his bedroom, a sort of ship's cabin, into which lake and
+sky seemed to pour through the window.
+
+After the death of old Maironi the Professor had once more taken to
+visiting the family, but the Marchesa did not please him particularly,
+and her son Don Alessandro, Franco's father, pleased him still less. So
+he ended by going there only once a year. When the lad Franco entered
+the lyceum his grandmother--his father had been dead some time--begged
+Gilardoni to give him some lessons during the Autumn. Master and pupil
+resembled each other in their easy enthusiasms, in their fits of violent
+but fleeting passion, and both were ardent patriots. When the necessity
+for lessons no longer existed they continued to meet as friends, though
+the Professor was some twenty years older than Franco. Gilardoni admired
+his pupil's genius, but Franco, on the other hand, held the
+half-Christian, half-rationalist philosophy of his master, and his
+mystical tendencies, in small esteem. He laughed at the other's passion
+for books and theories on horticulture and landscape gardening, a
+passion which was entirely devoid of all common sense. But nevertheless,
+he loved him sincerely for his goodness, his candour, his ardent soul.
+Franco had been the Professor's confidant at the time of his unfortunate
+passion for Signora Rigey, and later, Franco, in his turn, confided in
+the Professor. Gilardoni was much affected by the news, and told Franco
+that, his heart being still full to overflowing of that unchanging
+devotion, he should feel as if he were, in a way, becoming Franco's
+father, even though Signora Teresa herself would have none of him.
+Franco showed little appreciation of this metaphysical paternity. This
+passion for Signora Rigey seemed to him simply an aberration, and he was
+more than ever confirmed in his opinion that the Professor's head was
+not worth much, but that his heart was of gold.
+
+So he knocked at the door, and Beniamino himself came to open it,
+bearing a little oil lamp. "Well done," said he. "I was beginning to
+think you were not coming, after all."
+
+Gilardoni was in his dressing-gown and slippers, with a sort of white
+turban on his head, and he exhaled a strong odour of camphor. He looked
+like a Turk, like Gilardoni Bey, but the thin, sallow face which smiled
+beneath the turban had nothing Turkish about it. Encircled by a short,
+reddish beard, pompously embellished in the middle by a fine, big nose,
+red and pimply, the face was lighted up by two beautiful blue eyes,
+still very youthful, and full of simple kindness and poetry.
+
+As soon as Franco had closed the door behind him his friend whispered:
+"Is it done?" "It is done," Franco answered. The other embraced him and
+kissed him in silence. Then he took him up stairs to the little study.
+On the way he explained that, _secundum_ Raspail, he had applied a
+compress of some sedative water to his head, for he was threatened with
+a headache. He was an apostle of Raspail, and had converted Franco--who
+often suffered from inflammatory sore throats--from leeches to camphor
+cigarettes.
+
+In the little study there was another very close and long embrace. "So
+much! So much! So much!" Gilardoni exclaimed, meaning a world of things.
+
+Poor Gilardoni, his eyes were glistening. He himself had longed in vain
+for a happiness similar to his friend's! Franco understood and, much
+embarrassed, did not know what to say to him, and a silence so
+significant followed that Gilardoni could not stand it, and set about
+lighting a little fire to heat some coffee he had prepared. Franco
+offered to do this for him, and the Professor accepted, pleading his
+headache, and began unrolling his turban before a basin of the sedative
+water. "Well," said he, controlling his emotion by an effort of his
+will, "tell me all about it." Franco told him everything, from his
+grandmother's dinner-party, to the wedding ceremony in the church at
+Castello, except of course, his private talk with Signora Teresa.
+Professor Beniamino, meanwhile, had replaced his turban, and now
+summoned up all his courage. "And----" said he, substituting a sort of
+low groan for the beloved name, "how is she?" Upon learning of the
+hallucination he exclaimed: "A letter? She thought she saw a letter? But
+what letter?" This Franco did not know. A hissing on the fire
+interrupted the conversation; the coffee was boiling hard and bubbling
+over.
+
+Gilardoni also resembled his young friend in that his heart might be
+read from his face. The young friend who was, however, a far cleverer
+and quicker reader of faces than he, at once perceived that he had
+thought of some special letter, and inquired, while the coffee was
+settling, if he could explain this hallucination. The Professor
+hastened to say "no," but no sooner had he uttered that "no" than he
+weakened it by adding several other negatives, mingled with inarticulate
+grumblings: "Ah, no!--no indeed!--I cannot say--certainly not!" Franco
+did not insist, and another extremely significant silence ensued. When
+he had taken his coffee, with many involuntary signs of uneasiness, the
+Professor promptly proposed that they go to bed. Franco, who must leave
+before daybreak, preferred not to go to bed, but wished his friend to do
+so, and, after an infinite number of protests and ceremonies, after
+hesitating on the very threshold, his basin of sedative water in his
+hand, the Professor suddenly faced about, and throwing a "good-night"
+over his shoulder, disappeared.
+
+When he was alone Franco put out the lamp and stretched himself in an
+easy-chair with the good intention of going to sleep, seeking sleep in
+some indifferent thought if he could possibly fix his mind on such a
+thought. Not five minutes had passed when there was a knock at the door
+and immediately the Professor rushed in, without a light, and
+exclaiming: "Well, here I am again!" "What is the matter?" Franco
+inquired. "I am sorry I put out the light." At the same moment he felt
+the arms of the worthy Beniamino about his neck, his beard brushed
+Franco's face, and he smelt the camphor and heard the voice. "Dear,
+dear, Don Franco! I have an enormous load on my heart! I did not intend
+to speak now; I wanted to leave you in peace, but I cannot, I cannot!"
+
+"But speak! Calm yourself, calm yourself!" said Franco, gently freeing
+himself from that embrace.
+
+Gilardoni let him go, and pressed his hands to his forehead, groaning:
+"Oh, what a stupid fool, what a stupid fool, what a stupid fool I am! I
+might have left him alone; I might have waited until to-morrow or the
+next day. But now it is done! It is done!"
+
+He seized Franco's hand. "I tell you I had begun to undress when a sort
+of giddiness came over me, and then it was all up with me. I must needs
+put on the dressing-gown again, and rush in here without a light, like a
+lunatic. In my haste I even tipped over the basin of sedative water."
+
+"Shall we light the lamp?" Franco asked.
+
+"No, no, no, we had better talk in the dark, better talk in the dark!
+See, I am going way over there!" And he sat down at his writing-desk, to
+escape the faint glimmer of light which fell through the window. Then he
+began. He always spoke in a nervous and disorderly fashion, and it may
+easily be imagined how he spoke now, in his present state of agitation.
+
+"Shall I begin? Goodness knows what you will say, dear Don Franco! These
+are all useless words, but what would you have--alas! patience--! Well,
+I will begin--but where shall I begin? Oh, Lord! just see what a fool I
+am, not even knowing where to begin! Ah, that hallucination! Yes, I told
+you a lie just now; I can easily guess the origin of that hallucination.
+It has to do with a letter; a letter I showed Signora Teresa two years
+ago, a letter from Don Franco, your grandfather. Well, now let us begin
+at the beginning.
+
+"During his last days my poor father spoke to me of a letter from Don
+Franco which I should find in the strong-box, where all the important
+papers were kept. He told me to read it, to preserve it carefully, and,
+when the time came, to act in accordance with the dictates of
+conscience. 'But' said he, 'it is almost certain there will be nothing
+to be done.' My poor father passed away. I searched the strong-box for
+the letter, but did not find it. I hunted the whole house over, but in
+vain. What could I do? I contented myself with reflecting that there was
+nothing to be done, and thought no more about the matter. A fool, was I
+not? A real idiot! Say so freely, I deserve it. I have said so to myself
+so many times! But let us continue. Do you know how your grandfather's
+estate was settled? Do you know how the affairs of your house were
+arranged? You will forgive me for speaking to you of these matters, will
+you not?"
+
+"I know my grandfather died without a will, and that I have nothing,"
+Franco replied. "But let us pass that over, and proceed."
+
+To Franco it was truly a painful subject. At old Maironi's death no
+will had been found. In perfect love and harmony, the widow and the son,
+Don Alessandro, had divided the estate equally between them. In order to
+secure this arrangement the son had made a very large grant to his
+mother, declaring that he was only carrying out the paternal wishes,
+which had not found a means of expression. This depraved young man, a
+spendthrift and a gambler, was already caught in the toils of usurers at
+the time of his father's death. In the seven years he survived him he
+managed to spend everything, not leaving a penny to his only son,
+Franco, who found himself reduced to some twenty thousand _svanziche_,
+the fortune of his mother who had died in giving him birth.
+
+"Yes, yes, let us get on," Gilardoni continued. "Three years ago, three
+years ago, I say, I received a letter from you. I remember it was the
+second of November, all Souls' Day. Curious circumstance, mysterious
+circumstance! Very well. That night I went to bed, and dreamed a dream.
+I dreamt of your grandfather's letter. Note that I had never thought of
+it again. I dreamt I was hunting for it, and that I found it in an old
+box I keep in the attic. I read it, still dreaming. It said there was a
+great treasure in the cellar of Casa Maironi at Cressogno and that that
+treasure was to come to you. I awoke in intense excitement, convinced
+that this had been a prophetic dream. I got up, and went to look in the
+box. I found nothing; but two days later, being about to sell certain
+lands which I owned at Dasio, I got out an old deed of purchase, which
+my father kept in the strong-box, and, in turning over the leaves, a
+letter fell out. I glanced at the signature and saw: Nobile Franco
+Maironi. I read the letter. It was the one in question! Thus you see,
+the dream...."
+
+"Well," said Franco, interrupting him, "and what did this letter say?"
+
+The Professor rose, took a match half a cubit long, ran it in among the
+live coals in the little fireplace, and lit the lamp.
+
+"I have it here," he said with a great, despairing sigh. "Read it."
+
+He took from his pocket and handed to Franco a small yellowish letter,
+without an envelope, and still showing traces of the little red wafer.
+The yellow-black lines of writing inside showed through here and there,
+almost in relief.
+
+Franco took it, held it near the lamp, and read aloud as follows:
+
+
+         "Dear Carlin,--
+
+     "You will find my last will enclosed in this letter. I have
+     written it in duplicate. One copy I am keeping. This is the
+     other, and I charge you to publish it if the first be not
+     forthcoming. Do you understand? Very well then; and when we
+     meet I forbid you absolutely to worry me with your advice, as
+     is your d----d custom. You are the only person in whom I have
+     confidence, but, after all, it is my right to command, and your
+     duty to obey. Therefore all advice is useless and will not be
+     tolerated. Good-bye.
+
+                                   "Your affectionate master,
+                                           "FRANCO MAIRONI.
+
+    "CRESSOGNO, _22 Sept., 1828_."
+
+
+"Now here is the will," said Gilardoni dolefully, handing Franco another
+yellow document, "but don't read that aloud."
+
+The document read as follows:
+
+     "I, the undersigned, Nobile Franco Maironi, desire that my
+     estate be divided in accordance with this, my last will and
+     testament.
+
+     "Donna Orsola Maironi, born Marchesa Scremin, having deigned to
+     accept my homage as well as that of many others, I bequeath to
+     her, in proof of my gratitude, the sum of ten thousand Milanese
+     Lire, to be paid once and for all, and what, to her, is the
+     most precious jewel of my household, namely Don Alessandro
+     Maironi, duly inscribed in the parish-registers of the
+     Cathedral of Brescia as my son.
+
+     "I bequeath to my said son that part of my property which is
+     lawfully due to him, and three _parpagliole_[H] a day more, in
+     token of the special esteem in which I hold him.
+
+     "I leave to my agent in Brescia, Signor Grigi, should he be
+     still in my employ at the time of my death, all that he has
+     stolen from me.
+
+     "I leave to my agent in Valsolda, Carlino Gilardoni, upon the
+     same condition as above, four Milanese Lire a day, during his
+     natural life.
+
+     "I desire that, during the life of Donna Orsola Maironi
+     Scremin, a Mass be celebrated daily in the Cathedral of
+     Brescia, for the good of her soul.
+
+     "I name and appoint my grandson, Don Franco Maironi, son of Don
+     Alessandro, residuary legatee of all the rest of my property.
+
+     "As witness my hand, this fifteenth day of April, 1828.
+
+                                                 "FRANCO MAIRONI."
+
+Franco read--and, half dazed and without a word, passed the sheet of
+paper back to the Professor. He was shaken, but felt vaguely that he
+must control himself, that he must restrain his own agitation, collect
+his thoughts, and strive to get a clear view of this matter and of
+himself.
+
+"What do you say to that?" the Professor exclaimed.
+
+At this point Gilardoni's intense excitement reached a climax.
+
+"Why did I not speak before, eh?" he continued. "The thing is that I
+can't possibly give a clear, precise and positive reason for not having
+done so. Those papers were a horror to me! If I myself and my own father
+and mother had been involved in such a question, I would rather have
+let a million slip than ask for it with those documents in my hand.
+There! I have been a fool again, to have said that! Just forget those
+last words, for in your place ... it is a different thing. I was
+speaking for myself. Good Lord, of course I was speaking for myself!
+Well, I thought--see what an ass I was--I thought your grandmother just
+doted on you, and that your grandfather's property would go to you
+anyway. And with that idea...! After a while I consulted Signora Teresa,
+and showed her the letter and the will. She said I should have informed
+you at once, as soon as I had made the discovery, but that she could not
+give me any advice because now her daughter was, in a way, an interested
+party. Besides, she said.... But that is of no consequence. In short I
+saw the will was a horror to her also. Anyway, I was convinced your
+grandmother would end by accepting this marriage, and I did not speak.
+Tonight you come and tell me the Marchesa has used threats. Fancy that!
+Now you understand that I could not wait, that I could not keep these
+documents a moment longer. There--they are yours--take them!"
+
+Franco, absorbed in his own thoughts, heard only these last words. "No,"
+said he, "I will not take them. I know myself too well. With them in my
+possession I might be led into doing something rash, or into acting
+prematurely. You keep them for the present." Gilardoni would not hear
+of keeping them, and drove Franco into one of his fits of impatience.
+There was indeed nothing so irritating to his nerves as the inconclusive
+outpourings of kind-hearted but brainless persons. Gilardoni's
+opposition angered him, and he gave him to understand that this wish to
+rid himself of the documents at all costs, was selfishness pure and
+simple, and that those who have blundered must bear the consequences.
+The words he uttered amounted to this, but the angry and harsh
+expression of his face said much more. Gilardoni, whose face was
+crimson, shuddered at the accusation of selfishness, but controlled
+himself and putting on a grim frown in his turn, hastily pocketed the
+documents, repeated a string of "well, well, well, wells," and abruptly
+left the room. To appease his own conscience Franco at once set to work
+trying to convince himself that Signor Beniamino was entirely in the
+wrong. He had done wrong in not having given him the documents much
+sooner, and now he was doing wrong in taking offence. As he was quite
+sure he should make his peace with the inconclusive philosopher, he
+thought no more about him, put out the lamp, and, returning to his
+easy-chair, became once more engrossed in his previous meditations.
+
+Now he was beginning to see clearly. He could not with dignity make use
+of that will, which, both in form and in substance was dishonouring to
+his grandmother, arousing as it did, when the letter was considered, a
+suspicion of criminal suppression. The will also reflected little honour
+upon his father. No, never. He must tell the professor to burn both
+documents.
+
+"Thus, Madam Grandmother, shall I triumph over you!" thought Franco,
+"Making you a free gift of the property, and of your honour as well,
+without even taking the trouble to tell you of it!" Revelling in this
+thought Franco felt almost as if he were lifted above the earth, and he
+drew a long breath, vastly pleased with himself, his soul illumined and
+soothed by a sentiment of mingled generosity and pride. With all his
+faith and his acts of Christian piety, he was very far from suspecting
+that such a sentiment was not entirely good, and that a less
+self-conscious magnanimity would have been more noble.
+
+He let himself sink back in his easy-chair, more disposed to rest than
+he had been before, thinking quietly of what he had read, of what he had
+heard, as one who has been on the verge of embarking upon some perilous
+speculation, and looks back upon the anxiety and the calamities from
+which he has escaped forever. Old memories were also beginning to stir
+in the depths of his soul. He recalled a certain tale an old servant had
+told concerning the riches of the house of Maironi, which, she said, had
+been stolen from the poor. He was a child then, and the woman had not
+hesitated to speak in his presence. But the child had received a deep
+impression, and this impression had been re-awakened in his early
+boyhood, by the words of a priest, who had confided to him, with an air
+of great secrecy and solemnity, and perhaps not without intention, that
+the Maironi fortune was the fruit of a law-suit which had been unjustly
+won against the Ospedale Maggiore of Milan.
+
+"So, through me," thought Franco, "everything has gone back to the
+devil."
+
+It struck him that perhaps it was late, so he lighted the lamp once
+more, and consulted his watch. It was half-past three. Now, it would be
+impossible for him to rest. The moment which would re-unite him to Luisa
+was too near at hand, his fancy was too greatly excited. One hour and a
+half more! He looked at his watch every two minutes; it seemed as if the
+tedious time would never pass. He took a book, but could not read. He
+opened the window; the air was soft, the silence profound, the lake was
+bright over towards S. Salvatore, and the heavens were studded with
+stars. At Oria he could see a light. Perhaps it would be his fate to
+live there in Uncle Piero's house. Gazing absently at that luminous
+spot, he began to imagine what the future would be, and ever-changing
+phantoms rose before him. At about half-past four he heard a bell ring
+on the lower floor, and presently Pinella came with a message from his
+master to the effect that if he wished to make the _ascent of the
+Boglia_ it was time to start. The master had a severe headache, and
+could neither rise nor receive him. Franco searched on the
+writing-table for a sheet of paper, and wrote:
+
+"_Parce mihi, domine, quia brixiensis sum._"
+
+He went out, Pinella accompanying him with the light as far as the dark
+arcade, where the road to Castello begins. Then he disappeared.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Marchesa Orsola rang her bell at half-past six, and ordered the maid
+to bring her chocolate as usual. She swallowed more than half of it
+before asking with the utmost composure, at what hour Don Franco had
+returned.
+
+"He has not yet returned, Signora Marchesa."
+
+The old woman must have received an inward shock, but not a muscle of
+her face twitched. She placed her lips on the edge of her cup of
+chocolate, looked at the maid, and said calmly:
+
+"Bring me one of those little biscuits we had yesterday."
+
+Towards eight o'clock the maid came back to say that Don Franco had
+returned, but only to go directly to his room for his passport, coming
+down again immediately, and he had then ordered the footman to find a
+boatman who would take him to Lugano. The Marchesa said never a word,
+but later in the day she sent word to her confidant Pasotti that she was
+expecting him. Pasotti took in the situation at a glance, and remained
+with her more than half an hour. The lady was determined to find out
+where and how her grandson had spent the night. Pasotti had already
+heard some rumours, which he now repeated, concerning a nocturnal visit
+of Don Franco's to Casa Rigey; but more reliable and precise information
+was desired. The cunning _Tartufo_, by nature as curious as a hound,
+that goes about following every scent, poking his nose into every hole,
+and rubbing it against every pair of trowsers, promised to furnish the
+Marchesa with such information in the course of a day or two, and then
+took himself off, his eyes sparkling, rubbing his hands in anticipation
+of a pleasant chase.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[H] _Parpagliota_: a small coin then in circulation, and worth about
+twenty centimes (?). [_Translator's note._]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE ROGUE AT WORK
+
+
+The next morning, Pasotti having imbibed his coffee and milk, lay
+pondering the plan of the chase until half-past ten, when he summoned
+Signora Barborin, who slept in another room because her snoring
+disturbed the "Controller," as she respectfully called her husband. "He
+is quite right," the poor deaf woman would say, "it is a terribly bad
+habit, this snoring of mine!" She was older than Pasotti, whom she had
+accepted as her second husband because her heart was very susceptible,
+and to whom she had brought certain moneys which he had long coveted,
+and was now enjoying. The Controller was fond of her in his own way; he
+obliged her to make calls, to go on boating excursions, to take long
+walks in the hills, all of which things were torments to her. He made
+fun of her deafness, sent her out covered with silks and feathers, and
+at home made her work like any drudge. In spite of all this she
+respected and served him like a slave, in fear and trembling it is true,
+but not without affection. When she did not call him "the Controller"
+she called him "Pasotti," but she never allowed herself to use a more
+familiar appellation.
+
+Pasotti, with a face as stern as any satrap, ordered her by gestures to
+go to the drawer for a white shirt, to the wardrobe for his second-best
+suit, to a cupboard for a pair of boots. When his wife had prepared
+everything, hunting anxiously here and there, continually facing about
+to follow the eyes and gestures of the master who several times called
+her a fool, when she would stare open-mouthed at him, striving to catch
+the word she had only seen, Pasotti stuck his legs out of bed, and said:
+
+"Here you are!"
+
+Signora Barborin knelt before him, and began pulling on his stockings,
+while the Controller, stretching out his arm to the pedestal, took his
+snuff-box, and, having opened it, continued his previous meditations,
+his fingers buried in the snuff. He intended to make several visits of
+discovery, but in what order should he arrange them? From what his
+farmer had told him, he judged that Signor Giacomo Puttini's Marianna,
+and perhaps even Signor Giacomo himself must know something about Don
+Franco, and certainly something must be known in Castello. While Signora
+Barborin was tying the second shoe-lace, Pasotti remembered that it was
+Tuesday. Every Tuesday Signor Giacomo, with a few friends, was in the
+habit of going to the market at Lugano, or rather to the tavern called
+"del Lordo," in order to vary the daily wine of Grimelli by a weekly
+glass of an undiluted vintage, and he often came home in an
+affectionate and communicative frame of mind. It would therefore be
+better to call upon him late in the day, say between four and five. In
+fancy Pasotti was already holding him in his hand, and managing him as
+he liked. With a malicious smile he raised his fingers from the
+snuff-box, shook the pinch to the proper dimensions by means of a few
+gentle, even raps, enjoyed it at his leisure, and then his wife having
+given him his handkerchief, he rewarded her by mumbling with a benign
+expression of countenance, as he rolled the handkerchief into a ball:
+"Poor woman! poor creature!"
+
+When, after half an hour's labour he had put on and buttoned up his
+coat, he exclaimed, seriously: "What d---- hard work!" and went to the
+glass. Then his wife ventured to edge cautiously towards the door,
+saying very timidly--
+
+"Can I go now?"
+
+Pasotti turned round frowning and imperious, and beckoning to her to
+approach, he drew about her head and person certain lines in the air,
+which meant a hat and shawl. She did not understand, and stood staring
+at him, with her mouth open. Then she pointed her forefinger at his
+breast, questioning him with her eyes, and her lifted eyebrows, as if
+suspecting he wanted those articles for himself. Pasotti answered this
+questioning in the same manner, with three stabs of his forefinger,
+which signified: "you, you, you!" Then, making the motions of cutting
+something with his open hand, he gave her to understand that she was to
+go out with him. She started several times, astonished and protesting,
+opened her eyes extremely wide, and said in that voice of hers which
+seemed to come from the cellar:
+
+"Where?"
+
+The Controller's only answer was a fulminating glance and a gesture:
+"march!" He did not intend to give any further information.
+
+Signora Barborin struggled a little longer.
+
+"I have not breakfasted yet," she said.
+
+Her husband took her by the shoulders, drew her towards him, and shouted
+into her face:
+
+"You will breakfast later."
+
+Only at Albogasio Inferiore, in front of the Annunziata, did he inform
+her, by pointing to the place with his stick, that they were going to
+Cadate, to that old manor-house planted in the lake between Casarico and
+Albogasio, and generally known as "the Palace," where there lived, all
+alone, in the small rooms of the upper story, the priest, Don Giuseppe
+Costabarbieri and his servant Maria, called "Maria of the Palace."
+Pasotti knowing well that both were eager listeners, but extremely
+cautious in talking, wished to examine them one at a time, without
+seeming to do so, and, if he found any soft spot, he intended to press
+it very gently. He had brought his wife with him that she might help him
+in this delicate matter of taking them one at a time, and she, poor
+innocent, trotted on behind him with short, quick steps, and followed
+him down the flight of one hundred and twenty-nine steps called the
+"Calcinera," never suspecting the perfidious part she was to act.
+
+The lake was like oil, and Don Giuseppe, a fine, pursy priest, short and
+fat, with white hair, a ruddy complexion and small glistening eyes, was
+seated near the fig-tree in his garden, with a black straw hat on his
+head, and a white handkerchief round his neck, angling for carp, certain
+big, fat carp, grown old and wary, that might be seen moving about very
+slowly under the water, all for love of the figs, and that were as
+inquisitive and, at the same time, as cautious as the priest and his
+servant. This latter was not visible. Pasotti finding the street-door
+open, went in, calling out for Don Giuseppe and Maria. As no one
+answered he planted his wife in a chair and went down into the garden,
+making straight for the fig-tree, where Don Giuseppe was sitting, who,
+on catching sight of him, went into a fit of ceremonious convulsions. He
+threw down his fishing-rod and went towards Pasotti vociferating: "Oh,
+Lord! Oh, Lord! Oh, dear me! In this state! My dear Controller! Come
+up-stairs! Come up-stairs! My dear Controller! In this state! I hope you
+will excuse me! I hope you will excuse me!" But Pasotti would not hear
+of "going up," he was bound to remain where he was. Don Giuseppe began
+bawling for "Maria! Maria!" Presently Maria's big face appeared at a
+window in the upper story.
+
+Don Giuseppe called to her to bring down a chair. Then the Controller
+revealed the presence of his wife, whereupon the big face disappeared
+and Don Giuseppe had another fit.
+
+"How is this? How is this? Signora Barborin? She here? Oh, Lord! Come
+up-stairs!" and he started forward impelled by obsequiousness, but
+Pasotti reduced him to obedience, at first catching him by the arm, and
+then declaring that he wished to see him take one or two of those
+monstrous carp; and notwithstanding Don Giuseppe's protests: "It is no
+use! I sha'n't catch anything! They're far too cunning, these fish.
+_They see!_" in the end he was obliged to throw his line.
+
+At first Pasotti pretended to watch him, but finally he also threw his
+line.
+
+He began by asking Don Giovanni how long it was since he had been to
+Castello. Upon being informed that he had been there the day before to
+see his friend, the curate Intrioni, the good Tartuffe, who could not
+abide Intrioni, burst into a perfect panegyric of him. What a jewel,
+this curate of Castello! What a heart of gold! And had Don Giuseppe been
+to Casa Rigey? No, Signora Teresa was too ill. More panegyrics
+concerning Signora Teresa and Luisa. What a splendid creature! What
+circumspection, what high principles, what sentiment! And the Maironi
+affair? It was still going on, was it not? Had it gone far?
+
+"I know nothing, nothing, nothing!" Don Giuseppe said sharply.
+
+At that hasty denial Pasotti's eyes sparkled. He took a step forward.
+Oh, come now. It was not possible that Don Giuseppe did not know
+anything! It was not possible that he had not discussed the matter with
+Intrioni! Was not Intrioni aware that Don Franco had spent the night at
+Casa Rigey?
+
+"I know nothing about it, nothing at all!" Don Giuseppe repeated.
+
+Then Pasotti declared that by this concealment of certain well known
+circumstances, many were led to suspect evil. What the deuce! Don Franco
+had of course gone to Casa Rigey with the most honourable intentions,
+therefore----
+
+"A bite! A bite!" whispered Don Giuseppe hurriedly, and he leaned far
+out over the parapet, grasped the end of the pole firmly, and fixed his
+gaze on the water as if a fish were about to seize the hook. "A bite!"
+
+Pasotti, much vexed, gazed into the water also, but declared he could
+see nothing.
+
+"He has made off, the wretch! But his mouth almost touched the hook. He
+must have felt the prick!" said Don Giuseppe, sighing and straightening
+himself up. He also had felt the prick of the hook, and was trying to
+"make off" as the fish had done.
+
+The other renewed his attack, but in vain. Don Giuseppe had seen
+nothing, heard nothing, talked of nothing, knew nothing. Pasotti was
+silent, and the priest in turn, threw out a bit of timid malice: "They
+don't bite well to-day,--there must be something in the air."
+
+In the house, meanwhile, the dialogue between Maria and Signora Barborin
+had proceeded most unsatisfactorily, after the first affectionate
+exchange of greetings, which had been a great success. Maria proposed by
+gestures that they go into the garden, but Signora Pasotti begged with
+clasped hands, to be allowed to remain in her chair. Then the big Maria
+took another chair, and seating herself beside her guest tried to talk
+to her. But she found it impossible to make her understand, no matter
+how she shrieked, so gave up in despair, and taking her great cat upon
+her lap, talked to him instead.
+
+Poor Signora Barborin, who was quite resigned, watched the cat with her
+great black eyes, dimmed by age and grief. Ah! here was Pasotti at last,
+with Don Giuseppe, who at once began to puff out his:
+
+"Oh, good Lord! My dear Signora Barborin! Pray excuse me!" Maria having
+confessed to the _Scior Controlor_ that his wife and she had not been
+able to understand each other, her master--as a mark of respect for
+Signora Pasotti--called the servant a "block head," and, as she
+attempted to justify herself, he prudently checked her by an imperious
+wave of the hand and a string of "there, there, there's." Then he
+signalled to her mysteriously with his head, and she left the room.
+Pasotti followed her, and told her that his wife really felt obliged to
+call on the Rigeys, but was in doubt as to how she should act, having
+heard certain rumours which were current, and that she had greatly hoped
+to gain some information from Maria, for "Maria always knew everything."
+
+"What foolish talk!" said Maria, much flattered. "I never know anything;
+but I can tell you to whom your wife must apply. To Signor Giacomo
+Puttini. It is Signor Giacomo Puttini who always knows everything."
+
+"Well done!" thought Pasotti, adding these remarks to what the farmer
+had said, and concluding he was on the track at last. At the same time
+he shrugged his shoulders incredulously. Signor Giacomo might perhaps be
+aware of what was going on in the moon, but that was all; he never knew
+anything else. Maria insisted, and the old fox began to press her with
+questions, beating cautiously about the bush; but he found her obdurate,
+and presently he saw that he should have his labour for his pains, and
+that he must be satisfied with that one bit of information. He became
+silent, and half satisfied, half preoccupied, returned to the room where
+Don Giuseppe was explaining to Signora Barborin, by means of appropriate
+gestures, that Maria was going to bring her something to eat. In fact
+the woman appeared presently with a square, glass jar, full of
+brandy-cherries, a renowned specialty of Don Giuseppe's, who was in the
+habit of offering them solemnly to his guests, in his own peculiar
+Italian:
+
+"Allow me to offer you something! Will you try a few of my cherries?
+_Magara con un tochello di pane?_ Perhaps with a slice of bread?" And
+then, lapsing into dialect once more: "_Maria, tajee gio un poo de
+pan_--cut off a bit of bread."
+
+Signora Barborin feasted on bread alone, following the advice of her
+satanic husband, who himself took cherries without bread. Then they went
+away together, and she was permitted to return to Albogasio, while the
+Controller set off in the direction of Casa Gilardoni.
+
+"That Pasotti is a rogue," said Maria when she had bolted the
+street-door.
+
+"He is not only a rogue, but an extra big rogue! A _bargnif_!" Don
+Giuseppe exclaimed, remembering the hook; and by the application of the
+dialect title of "Bargnif," which means the arch-fiend, considered in
+the light of his great cunning, these two mild beings found relief for
+their feelings, and a compensation for so many things given unwillingly:
+courtesies, smiles and cherries.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Professor Gilardoni was reading perched on his belvedere in the
+kitchen-garden, when he caught sight of Pasotti coming towards him
+behind Pinella, between the rows of beets and turnips. He had little
+liking for the Controller, with whom he had exchanged only one or two
+calls, and who had the reputation of being a _tedescone_, a rank German.
+Nevertheless, being inclined to think the best of those with whom he was
+only slightly acquainted, he found no difficulty in extending to him the
+same cordial courtesy which it was his habit to show to every one. He
+went to meet his guest, velvet cap in hand, and after a skirmish of
+compliments which proved an easy victory for Pasotti, Gilardoni returned
+to the belvedere with him.
+
+Pasotti, on the other hand, felt a lively dislike for the Professor, not
+so much because he knew him to be a Liberal, as because, though
+Gilardoni did not go to Mass as often as he himself did, he lived like a
+Puritan, loving neither the table nor the bottle, neither tobacco nor
+certain loose discourses. Moreover he did not play _tarocchi_. One
+evening, when talking in the kitchen-garden with Don Franco, of the
+tremendous bouts of eating and drinking which Pasotti and his friends
+often celebrated in the taverns of Bisnago, the Professor had said
+something which was overheard by the big curate, one of the gluttons,
+whose boat, in which he himself sat fishing, happened to be gliding
+along very softly, close to the walls. "Miserable knave!" the most
+worthy Controller had exclaimed when the words were repeated to him, his
+face wearing the expression of a _bargnif bilioso_, of Satan with a
+bilious attack. The exclamation had been followed by a contemptuous
+snarl, after which the Controller spat protestingly. This, however, did
+not prevent him from overflowing on the present occasion with excuses
+for having unduly postponed his visit, nor from immediately spying out
+the volume resting on the rustic table of the belvedere. Gilardoni saw
+him glance at it and, as the book in question was one of those forbidden
+by the government, he took it up almost instinctively as soon as he had
+started the conversation, and rested it on his knee in such a manner
+that Pasotti could not read the title. This precaution disturbed
+Pasotti, who was just then praising the little villa and the garden in
+all their particulars, and in the tone best adapted to each part; the
+beets, with amiable familiarity, the aloes, with serious and frowning
+admiration. An angry light flashed in his eyes, and then disappeared.
+
+"Fortunate man," he sighed. "If my affairs would permit it, I myself
+should like to live in Valsolda."
+
+"It is a peaceful spot," said the Professor.
+
+"Yes, a peaceful spot; and, besides, nowadays those who have served the
+Government are not comfortable in the big towns. People make no
+distinction between a faithful official who attends strictly to his own
+duties, as I have done, and a police-spy. We are exposed to many
+suspicions, many humiliations----"
+
+The Professor turned red, and was sorry he had removed the book from the
+little table. In fact, notwithstanding his assumption of humility,
+Pasotti was too proud to act the spy, and, owing to this pride, or
+perhaps to some good strain in him, he had never done so. Thus in his
+words there was a grain of sincerity, a grain of gold, which sufficed to
+give them the ring of true metal. Gilardoni, touched by this, offered
+his guest a glass of beer, and hastened away in search of Pinella, glad
+of an excuse for leaving the book on the little table.
+
+Hardly had the Professor disappeared when Pasotti snatched up the
+volume, and gave it an inquisitive glance; then he laid it down on the
+same spot, and stationed himself at the top of the steps, toying with
+the snuff in the box he held open in his hand, and smiling a smile half
+of beatitude, half of admiration, at the lake, the hills and the sky.
+The book was a volume of Giusti, pretending to have been published in
+Brussels or rather _Brusselle_, and bearing the title: _Italian Poems,
+from manuscripts_. Written across one corner of the fly-leaf was the
+name: "Mariano Fornic." It needed less keenness than Pasotti possessed
+to perceive at once in that heteroclite, the anagram of Franco Maironi.
+
+"How lovely! What a paradise!" said he softly, while the Professor was
+coming up the steps followed by Pinella with the beer.
+
+Presently, between two sips of beer, he confessed that his visit was not
+entirely of a disinterested nature. He declared that he was in love
+with the blossoming wall that upheld the kitchen-garden on the
+lake-side, and that he wished to copy it at Albogasio Superiore, where,
+though the lake was wanting, there were plenty of bare walls. Where did
+the Professor get those aloes, those roses and caper-bushes?
+
+"Why," the other answered frankly. "Maironi gave them to me."
+
+"Don Franco?" Pasotti exclaimed. "Well done! I will appeal to Don
+Franco, who is always very kind to me."
+
+And he took out his snuff-box. "Poor Don Franco," said he, with all the
+tenderness of a compassionate rogue as he scrutinised and fingered the
+snuff. "Poor young man! He sometimes flies into a passion, but, after
+all, he is a splendid fellow. A heart of the best! Poor young man! Do
+you see him often?"
+
+"Yes, quite often."
+
+"If only his hopes could be realised, poor young man! His hopes and hers
+also, of course. That affair is not off, is it?"
+
+Pasotti put this question with the skill of a great actor, with
+affectionate but discreet interest, with no more curiosity than was
+fitting, and with the intention of lubricating and softening somewhat
+Gilardoni's closed heart, that it might open of itself, little by
+little. But Gilardoni's heart, instead of spreading itself open at that
+gentle touch, contracted and closed tighter than ever.
+
+"I don't know," the Professor replied, feeling the colour mounting to
+his face, and indeed he turned scarlet. In his mental note-book Pasotti
+immediately made a note of the embarrassed manner, and of the heightened
+colour. "He would be unwise to throw up the game. It is only natural
+that the Marchesa should create difficulties for them, but after all,
+she is a good creature, and devoted to him. Poor woman, what a fright
+she had the other night!"
+
+He glanced at the Professor who was frowning in uneasy silence, and
+reflected: You will not speak? Then you know. "Just think of it! Not to
+say where he was going! What do you think of that?"
+
+"But I know nothing about it, I don't understand." Gilardoni exclaimed,
+frowning more darkly still and growing ever more uneasy.
+
+And now Pasotti, who was aware that the Professor had long since ceased
+to visit the Rigeys, but was ignorant of the reason why, made a move
+which was worthy only of a novice in roguery.
+
+"You might enquire about it at Castello." said he, with a malicious
+simper.
+
+At this point Gilardoni, who was already boiling with rage, overflowed.
+
+"Pray oblige me by dropping this subject," said he, angrily, "oblige me
+by dropping it."
+
+Pasotti grew sullen. Ceremonious, insinuating, and given to adulation
+though he was, his pride would not allow him to suffer an unpleasant
+word calmly, and he took offence at every shadow. He said no more, and
+in a few minutes took his leave with dignified coolness, and retired
+through the beets and the turnips, nursing his wrath. On reaching the
+top of the Contrada dei Mal'ari, the _bargnif_ paused a moment to think,
+resting his chin on his hand, then he started towards the shore of
+Casarico, moving slowly, his head bent low, but with glistening eyes,
+like the poodle that smells the hidden truffle in the air. Don
+Giuseppe's frightened denials, Maria's obstinate denials, and the
+Professor's embarrassment and outburst of temper, told him that a
+truffle really existed, and that it must be a big one. He had thought of
+going to Loggi where dwelt Paolin and Paolon, both of whom were well
+informed, but then he had remembered that it was Tuesday, and that
+probably he would not find them. No, it would be better to go directly
+up to Castello from Casarico, and sniff and hunt about in the house of a
+certain Signora Cecca, an admirable woman, all heart, and famous for the
+assiduous watch she kept from her window over the entire Valsolda by
+means of a powerful spy-glass. She could tell you any day who had gone
+to Lugano with the boatman Pin, or with Panighet; noted the
+conversations the unhappy Pinella held with a certain Mochet in front of
+the church at Albogasio, half a mile distant; she knew how many days it
+had taken Engineer Ribera to drink the little cask of wine which his
+boat carried back empty from the house at Oria to the cellar at S.
+Margherita. If Franco had been to Casa Rigey Signora Cecca must surely
+know it.
+
+In the passage that leads from Casarico to the narrow street of
+Castello, Pasotti heard hurried steps behind him, and then some one
+brushed past him in the darkness and he believed he had recognised a man
+nicknamed "legora fugada" or the "hunted hare," because of the furious
+pace at which he always walked. This honest man, who was even more
+inquisitive than Pasotti, was a most worthy person who loved to know
+things just for the sake of knowing them, and for no other reason. He
+always went about alone, was everywhere, appearing and disappearing like
+a flash, sometimes in one place, sometimes in another, like certain
+large, winged insects, which pass with a glance, a whirr, a touch, and
+then, hush! they are neither heard nor seen again until there comes
+another glance, another whirr, another touch. He had seen the Pasottis
+enter the "Palace," and the unusual hour had caused him to suspect
+something. Lying flat in a small field he had seen Signora Barborin turn
+homewards, and the Controller start towards Casarico. Then, having
+followed at a distance, this individual had posted himself behind one of
+the pilasters of the portico of Casarico while Pasotti was calling on
+Gilardoni, and now he had slipped past him, taking advantage of the dark
+passage, and hastening to reach Castello before him, that he might watch
+his movements from some point of vantage.
+
+In fact he saw him enter Signora Cecca's house.
+
+The old lady, who had the goitre, was in her little parlour, holding a
+small urchin on her left arm, while with her free hand she supported a
+very long and slender pasteboard tube, which was struck slanting across
+the window like a wall-gun and pointed down at the sparkling lake, at a
+white sail, filled with the _breva_. On the entrance of Pasotti, who
+came forward with stooping shoulders, his face suffused with a most
+gentle gaiety, the kindly and hospitable old dame hastened to put down
+the monstrous pasteboard nose, which she was so fond of poking into the
+most distant affairs of others, where her own parchment nose, though it
+was long beyond measure, could not reach. She received the Controller as
+she might have received a saintly miracle-worker, who had come to remove
+her goitre.
+
+"Oh, how kind of you! Dear _Sior Controlor_! Oh, how kind! What a
+pleasure! What a pleasure!"
+
+And she made him sit down and nearly suffocated him with her offers of
+hospitality.
+
+"A piece of cake! A bit of nut-candy! Dear _Sior Controlor_! A little
+wine! A taste of _rosoho_!--You must excuse me," she added, for the
+youngster had begun to whine. "He is my little grandson, you know. My
+little pet."
+
+Pasotti took a great deal of urging, having not only Don Giovanni's
+cherries, but also Gilardoni's beer in his stomach, but finally he was
+obliged to yield, and resign himself to gnawing a piece of that accursed
+almond cake, while the urchin clung to his grandmother's goitre.
+
+At this the sarcastic rogue said pathetically, laughing in his sleeve
+the while: "Poor Signora Cecca! Twice a mother!" When he had enquired
+for her husband and for all her descendants even unto the third
+generation, he brought forward Signora Teresa Rigey. How was that poor
+lady? Bad! Really very bad? But since when had she been worse? Had there
+been any cause? Some trouble, perhaps? The old troubles were well known,
+but had there been some fresh ones? Perhaps on Luisina's account? About
+the marriage? And did Don Franco come to Castello? Ah, not in the
+daytime, but perhaps----?
+
+As the patient who is being questioned and examined by the surgeon
+searching for the painful, hidden spot, answers ever more briefly, ever
+more fearfully as the hand draws nearer and nearer to the point, and
+starts and draws back as soon as the spot is touched, so Signora Cecca
+answered Pasotti ever more briefly, ever more cautiously, until, at that
+"but" which touched the painful spot so delicately, she started,
+exclaiming--
+
+"A little more cake, _Sior Controlor_! It is a cake light enough for
+young girls."
+
+Pasotti in his heart cursed the "young girls" and their cake, a
+concoction of honey, chalk and almond oil, but deemed it prudent to
+swallow another mouthful before once more touching, or rather pressing
+the tender spot he had discovered.
+
+"I know nothing! I know nothing! Absolutely nothing!" Signora Cecca
+exclaimed. "Try sounding Puttini. Try Signor Giacomo. And pray don't ask
+me anything more." Again! Pasotti's face shone at the prospect of
+getting the unlucky Signor Giacomo into his clutches. Thus the eyes of a
+falcon might shine at the joyous prospect of snatching a frog, and of
+holding him in his claws, to toy with at pleasure. Presently he took his
+departure well satisfied with everything save with the chalky cake,
+which lay like lead in his stomach.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Casa Puttini, which, within its minute, genteel appearance, resembled
+the little old gentleman who ruled it, in a black coat and white stock,
+stood just below that stately pile, Casa Pasotti, on the road to
+Albogasio Inferiore. The falcon went there in the afternoon, towards
+five o'clock, with a cunning expression on his face. He knocked at the
+door and then listened. He was there! The unlucky frog was there! And he
+was quarrelling as usual with the perfidious servant. Pasotti knocked
+louder. "Go down!" said Signor Giacomo, but Marianna would not hear of
+going down to open the door. "Go down! I am the master!" It was all in
+vain. Pasotti knocked again, knocked like a battering-ram. "Who the
+devil can it be!" scolded Puttini, and he came down puffing: "Apff!
+apff!" to open the door. "Oh, most gracious Controller!" said he winking
+hard, and raising his eyebrows pathetically. "Pray excuse me! That awful
+servant! I am quite worn out! You would not believe the things that go
+on in this house!"
+
+"That is a lie!" Marianna cried from above.
+
+"Hold your tongue, you!" And then Signor Giacomo began telling his woes,
+stopping from time to time to silence the protests of the invisible
+servant.
+
+"Just fancy! This morning I went to Lugano. I got home about three
+o'clock. On the doorstep--look there--I saw some splashes. Hold your
+tongue, you! I did not heed them, and went straight in. At the head of
+the kitchen-stairs there were more splashes. Be quiet, will you?--What
+can have been spilled? said I to myself, and I stooped and touched the
+spots with my finger. It was something greasy; I smelt it, it was oil.
+Then I followed the splashes, touching and sniffing, sniffing and
+touching. All oil, most gracious Controller! So I said to myself again:
+Either it came in, or it went out. If it came in, the farmer brought it,
+and in that case there will be splashes outside the door, and they will
+extend upwards, if it went out, that means that this accursed.... Hold
+your tongue, I say!... took it to S. Mamette and sold it, and then the
+splashes outside will extend downwards. So back I went, always
+following the splashes and presently I found myself here at the door.
+Most gracious Controller, those splashes all extended downwards! That
+d----"
+
+At this point the servant's voice rang out like the bell on an
+alarm-clock, and no "hold your tongue" was strong enough to stem that
+shrill flow of angry words. Pasotti tried, and not succeeding, flew into
+a passion himself, and shouted: "Oh, you cheat!" following up that title
+with a string of insults, at each of which Signor Giacomo gave a low
+grunt of satisfaction. "Yes, yes, give it to her! that's right! I am
+much obliged to you. Yes, shout,--that's right. You torment, you!--I am
+really greatly obliged to you, most gracious Controller! Really greatly
+obliged!"
+
+When Marianna had been overpowered and reduced to silence, Pasotti told
+Signor Giacomo that he must speak a few words with him. "I am really not
+up to it," the little man complained. "You must excuse me, for I feel
+quite ill."
+
+"Not up to it, not up to it, indeed!" shouted Marianna who had revived.
+"You had better tell us how you wear yourself out going up to Castello
+at night to see the girls!"
+
+"Hold your tongue," Puttini shrieked, while Pasotti exclaimed, with a
+fiendish grin: "What, what, what!" Seeing that Puttini was becoming
+furious, he took him by the arm, and calming him with peaceful and
+affectionate language, dragged him away to his own house where he at
+once summoned his wife, and started a game of three-handed _tarocchi_,
+with the purpose of soothing the poor frog, and getting a firmer grip of
+him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+If Signora Barborin played badly, Signor Giacomo, meditating, pondering
+and puffing, played worse. He was an extremely timid player, and never
+set himself up alone against the other two, but to-day at the very first
+deal, he discovered that he held such extraordinary cards that he was
+seized with a fit of courage, and, to use the language of the game, he
+_entered_. "Goodness knows what sort of a hand he has!" Pasotti growled.
+
+"I don't say.... I don't say.... There certainly are several friars who
+walk in slippers."
+
+Signor Giacomo's "I don't say" meant that he held marvellous cards, and
+the friars in slippers, in his lingo, were the four kings of the game.
+While he was getting ready to play, feasting his eyes upon his cards,
+and feeling each one in turn, Pasotti took the opportunity of opening
+fire, hoping to make him lose the game, into the bargain. "Come now,"
+said he, "tell us about it! When was it you went to Castello at night?"
+
+"Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Don't talk about it," Signor Giacomo replied, growing
+very red and sorting his cards faster than ever.
+
+"Well, well, play away then. We can talk later. I know the whole story
+any way!"
+
+Poor Signor Giacomo, how could he play with that bone in his throat? He
+sorted and puffed, led when he should not have done so, blundered in
+adding up the points, lost two of the friars and their slippers as well,
+and in spite of his splendid hand, left several markers in the clutches
+of Pasotti who was grinning with delight, and several more on the little
+plate beside Signora Barborin, who kept repeating with clasped hands:
+"What have you done, Signor Giacomo? what have you done?"
+
+Pasotti gathered up the cards and began shuffling them, casting sardonic
+glances at Signor Giacomo, who did not know where to look.
+
+"Certainly," said he, "I know everything. Signora Cecca told me the
+whole story. I assure you, my dear Political Deputy, you will be called
+upon to answer for this before the Imperial and Royal Commissary of
+Porlezza."
+
+With these words Pasotti passed the cards to Puttini, that he might cut.
+But Puttini, hearing that dreaded name, began to groan:
+
+"Oh Lord! Oh Lord! What is that you say?... I know nothing.... Oh Lord!
+The Imperial and Royal Commissary?... I assure you I can't see what
+for! ... apff!"
+
+"Certainly," Pasotti repeated. He was waiting for a word that should
+enlighten him, and by pointing first to the door and then to his own
+mouth, he made his wife understand that she was to fetch something to
+drink.
+
+"And that dreadful engineer as well!" Signor Giacomo exclaimed, as if
+speaking to himself.
+
+As the fisherman who, pulling hard on the long, heavy line quivering, he
+fancies, with the weight of the one big fish he has been angling for so
+long, finally redoubles his caution and skill, as, with a thrill, he
+sees two great shadowy fishes instead of one rising from the depths, so
+Pasotti, upon hearing this allusion to the engineer, was thrilled and
+amazed, and began preparing, with the most exquisitely delicate touch,
+to draw out this secret concerning Signor Giacomo and Ribera.
+
+"Certainly," said he, "you did wrong."
+
+Silence on Signor Giacomo's part.
+
+Pasotti insisted.
+
+"You did very wrong."
+
+But just then Signora Barborin entered, smiling genially, and bearing a
+tray with the bottle and glasses. The wine was of a dark red, shot
+through with ruby lights, and Signor Giacomo contemplated it if not yet
+tenderly, at least benevolently. This wine had an aroma of austere
+virtue, and Signor Giacomo smelt of it affectionately, gazed at it with
+emotion, and then smelt of it again. This wine had that mellow richness
+which fills both palate and soul with its flavour, and indeed it
+possessed exactly that honest and pure tartness that its aroma
+pre-announced, and Signor Giacomo sipped it and wished it were not
+liquid and evanescent, tasted it, smacked his lips over it, and rolled
+it under his tongue. When, from time to time, he rested his glass on the
+little table, neither his hand nor his languid gaze were withdrawn from
+it.
+
+"Poor Engineer! Poor Ribera!" Pasotti exclaimed. "He is a most upright
+man, but ..."
+
+And as he pulled and pulled the unlucky Signor Giacomo began to rise to
+the hook and the line.
+
+"I myself did not wish it," he said. "'Twas he made me go--'Come along,'
+said he. 'Why do you not wish to go? There will be no harm done. The
+thing is honest.' 'Yes!' I answered, 'so it seems to me also, but all
+this secrecy?' 'On account of the grandmother,' he replied. 'But then,'
+I asked, 'what sort of a figure shall you and I cut?' 'We are just a
+couple of simpletons!' he answered, with that way of his--honest,
+old-fashioned soul that he is,--that always gets round me. 'I will go,'
+said I."
+
+Here he paused. Pasotti waited a while, and then gave the line a
+cautious jerk. "The trouble is," said he, "that the story leaked out at
+Castello."
+
+"Yes, Sir, and I was sure it would. The family and the engineer might
+keep the secret, and of course I should never speak, but the priest and
+the sacristan would surely talk."
+
+The priest? The sacristan? Ah! at last Pasotti understood. He staggered!
+He had not expected such a tremendous disclosure. He filled the unhappy
+Signor Giacomo's glass, and had little difficulty in getting all the
+particulars of the wedding out of him. Then he tried to find out what
+plans for the future the young people had formed, but in this he did not
+succeed. He began shuffling the cards with the intention of continuing
+the game, but Signor Giacomo looked at his watch, and found that it
+wanted only nine minutes to seven, at which hour he was in the habit of
+winding his clock. Three minutes in the street, two minutes on the
+stairs, and there remained only four minutes for leave-taking. "Reckon
+it out for yourself, most gracious Controller. It is as I say: there is
+no doubt about it."
+
+Signora Bardorin, noticing this consultation, questioned her husband
+about it. Pasotti raised his hands to his mouth, and shouted into her
+face: "He wants to go and see his sweetheart!" "What nonsense! What
+nonsense!" poor Signor Giacomo exclaimed, turning all colours; and
+Signora Pasotti, having understood by a miracle, opened her mouth
+enormously wide, not knowing whether or no to believe her husband. "His
+sweetheart? Oh, what nonsense. It is foolish talk, is it not, Signor
+Giacomo? Of course you might have a sweetheart, I don't deny that.
+You're not old, but...!" Seeing that he really intended to be off, she
+tried to detain him, telling him she had some chestnuts from Venegono on
+the fire, which were nearly done, and begging him to accept some of
+them. But neither the chestnuts nor Pasotti's reproaches could persuade
+Signor Giacomo, and he departed with the spectre of the Imperial and
+Royal Commissary in his heart, harassed by unpleasant twinges of
+conscience, and a vague sense of dissatisfaction with himself, which he
+could not explain, and feeling instinctively that the perfidious
+servant's insolence was, after all, preferable to Pasotti's cajoleries.
+
+As to the latter, his eyes shone even brighter than usual. He intended
+going to Cressogno at once. Being an indefatigable walker he expected to
+get there by eight o'clock. He was hugely pleased at the prospect of
+going to the Marchesa with his great discovery _in pectore_, of acting
+mysteriously, of dropping the most artful hints, one by one, and of
+obliging her to wrest the particulars from him. For his own
+gratification he was already preparing a gentle and soothing little
+speech to lay upon the wound of the imperturbable old dame, so that she
+might not be able to hide it, and that no one might complain of him, not
+even Franco. He went to the kitchen where he got them to light a lantern
+for him, for the night was very dark, and then he set out.
+
+At the door he met his steward who was just coming in. The steward
+greeted him, and carried a large basket of fruit into the kitchen, and,
+having helped the maid put it away, he seated himself by the fire, and
+said placidly:
+
+"Signora Teresa of Castello has just passed away."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE OLD LADY OF MARBLE
+
+
+The door was opened a little way, very, very softly; the maid looked in,
+and called to Franco, who was absorbed in prayer, kneeling by a chair
+near the couch upon which the dead woman lay. Franco did not hear, and
+it was Luisa who rose. She went to listen to the woman's whispered
+request, said something in reply, and when the maid had withdrawn, stood
+waiting for some one. As no one appeared she pushed the door open and
+said aloud: "Come in, come in." A great sob answered her. Luisa
+stretched out both hands and Professor Gilardoni seized them. They stood
+some time thus, motionless, fighting their sorrow with tightly pressed
+lips, he more shaken than she. Luisa was the first to move. She gently
+withdrew one hand, and, with the other, led the Professor into the
+chamber of death.
+
+Signora Teresa had passed away in the drawing-room in the armchair from
+which she had never been able to rise after the night of the wedding.
+They had made the sofa into a funeral couch, and laid her out upon it.
+The sweet face rested there on the pillow, showing waxen in the light of
+the four candles, the lips were slightly parted, and it was as if a
+smile shone through the closed eyelids. The couch and the clothes were
+strewn with autumn flowers; cyclamen, dahlias and chrysanthemums. "See
+how beautiful she is," said Luisa, in a tender, quiet tone that went to
+the heart. The Professor stood leaning upon a chair at some distance
+from the bed.
+
+"Do you realise it, Mamma," Luisa said softly, "how much you are
+beloved?"
+
+She knelt down, and taking one of the dead hands, began kissing it,
+caressing it, and murmuring sweet words over it in a low voice; then she
+was silent, and, replacing the hand, she rose, kissed the brow and
+contemplated the face with clasped hands. She recalled her mother's
+reproofs in past years, remembering every one since her childhood, for
+she had always felt them deeply. Once more she fell upon her knees, and
+pressed her lips to the icy hand with an impulse of affection more
+ardent than if she had been dwelling upon past caresses. Then taking a
+cyclamen from her mother's shoulder, she rose and offered it to the
+Professor. He took it, weeping, and going to Franco, whom he now met for
+the first time since that night, he embraced him with silent emotion,
+and felt his embrace returned. Then, stepping very softly, he left the
+room.
+
+It was striking eight o'clock. Signora Teresa had died the night before
+at six; in twenty-six hours Luisa had never rested for a moment, and had
+left the room only four or five times for a few minutes. Franco it was
+who often went out, and remained away a long time.
+
+Summoned in secret he had reached Castello just in time to see the poor
+mother alive, and it had fallen to his lot to perform all the sad
+offices which death imposes, for Uncle Piero, in spite of his years, had
+not the slightest knowledge of these matters, and was greatly bewildered
+by them.
+
+Now, hearing it strike eight, he went to his wife and gently urged her
+to take a little rest, but Luisa answered him at once in a way that put
+an end to his insistence. The funeral was to take place the next morning
+at nine o'clock. She had wished it to be postponed for as long as
+possible, and intended to remain with her mother to the last. In her
+slim person there was an indomitable vigour capable of withstanding
+still greater trials. For her, her mother was there still, on that
+narrow couch, among the flowers. She did not think that a part of her
+was elsewhere, did not look out of the west window, seeking her among
+the tiny stars that trembled above the hills of Carona. Her one thought
+was that in a few hours, the darling mother, who had lived so many years
+for her alone, caring for naught else on earth save her happiness, would
+be laid away to sleep for ever under the great walnut-trees of Looch, in
+the shadowy solitude where the little cemetery of Castello rests in
+silence, while she herself would continue to enjoy life, the sun, and
+love. She had answered Franco almost sharply as if, in some way,
+affection for the living were an offence to the affection for the dead.
+Then, fearing she had hurt him, she repented, kissed him and endeavoured
+to pray, knowing that in this she would be pleasing him, and that
+certainly her mother would have expected this of her. She began reciting
+the _Pater_, the _Ave_ and the _Requiem_ over and over again, but
+without deriving the slightest comfort from them, experiencing, rather,
+a secret irritation, an unwelcome drying up of her grief. She had always
+practised religion, but, after the ardour of her first Communion had
+died out, her soul had ceased to be associated in religious observance.
+Her mother had lived rather for the next world than for this; she had
+regulated her every action, her every word, her every thought with that
+end in view. In her precocious intellectual development, Luisa's ideas
+and sentiments had taken another direction, with that determined vigour
+which was one of her characteristics. She covered these views, however,
+with certain half-conscious, half-unconscious dissimulations, partly for
+love of her mother, partly because some germ of religion, sown by
+maternal precepts, fostered by example, and strengthened by habit, had
+not died out. Since her fourteenth year she had been growing ever more
+inclined to look beyond this present life, and at the same time not to
+consider herself; to live for others, for the earthly good of others,
+but always, however, according to a strong and fierce sense of justice.
+She went to church, performed the external duties of her religion,
+without incredulity, but also without the conviction that they were
+pleasing to God. She had a confused conception of a God so great, so
+lofty, that no immediate contact was possible between Him and mankind.
+Sometimes, indeed, she feared she might be mistaken, but her possible
+error seemed to her of a nature such as no God of infinite goodness
+might punish. She herself did not know how she had come to think thus.
+
+The door opened very softly once more, and a low voice called, "Signor
+Don Franco." When Luisa was alone she ceased to pray, and resting her
+head upon her mother's pillow, she pressed her lips to the dear
+shoulder, closed her eyes and let the flood of memories flow over her
+that sprung from that touch, from that familiar odour of lavender. Her
+mother's dress was of silk, her best, and had been a present from Uncle
+Piero. She had worn it only once, some years before, on the occasion of
+a visit to the Marchesa Marioni. The odour of the lavender brought back
+this memory also, and with it came scalding tears, acrid with tenderness
+and with another sentiment that was not actually hatred, that was not
+actually anger, but that held the bitterness of both.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Franco could not at once account for the shudder that shook him when he
+heard his name called. Early that morning Uncle Piero had written to
+the Marchesa, announcing his sister's death in simple but most
+respectful language, and had enclosed a note from Franco himself, which
+ran as follows:
+
+     "DEAR GRANDMOTHER,--I have not time to write to you because I
+     am here, but I will tell you all by word of mouth to-morrow
+     evening. I hope you will listen to me as my father and mother
+     would have listened."
+
+No answer had as yet come from Cressogno, but now a man from Cressogno
+had brought a letter. Where was this man?--Gone; he would not stop a
+minute. Franco took the letter and read the address: "_Al. preg. Signor
+Ingegnere Pietro Ribera_." At the same time he recognised in the
+writing, the hand of the agent's daughter. He went up to Uncle Piero's
+room at once. The engineer, who was worn out, had gone to bed.
+
+When Franco brought him the letter he showed neither surprise nor
+curiosity, but said, calmly:
+
+"Open it."
+
+Franco placed the light on the chest of drawers, and opened the letter,
+keeping his back to the bed. As he stood, he seemed turned to stone; he
+neither breathed nor moved.
+
+"Well?" said the uncle.
+
+Silence.
+
+"I understand," the old man added. Then Franco let the letter fall, and
+stretching his hands above his head, he uttered a long "Ah!" deep and
+hoarse, and laden with amazement and horror.
+
+"Come, come!" Uncle Piero repeated, "what about this letter?"
+
+Franco roused himself, and hastened to embrace him, hardly able to
+restrain his sobs.
+
+The placid man bore this storm calmly and patiently for a time, but
+presently he began to defend himself, and demanded the letter. "Let me
+see it, let me see it," said he, and he muttered, "What can that blessed
+woman have written?"
+
+Franco brought the light and the letter, which he handed to Uncle Piero.
+His grandmother had written never a word, never a syllable; she had
+simply returned the engineer's letter and Franco's note. It was some
+time before the uncle could grasp this. He was never quick to understand
+things, and this thing was utterly incomprehensible to him! When at last
+he did make it out, he could not help saying: "Certainly this is very
+hard!" Then, seeing how beside himself Franco was, he added, with the
+big solemn voice he used when judging human actions _toto corde_,
+"Listen. It is, I should say----" (and he searched for the right word,
+in his own peculiar fashion puffing out his cheeks, and emitting a sort
+of rattling sound)"----an injustice! But I am by no means so extremely
+astonished as you are. Not all the wrong is on her side, my dear fellow,
+and so----However, I am sorry for you two, who will have to eat plain
+food and live in this miserable little town; but how about me? For my
+part, I gain by all this, and I may even say, I feel inclined to thank
+your grandmother. You see I have never founded a family of my own; I
+have always counted upon this family. Now my poor sister is dead, and if
+your grandmother had opened her arms to you, I should have been of no
+more use than an old cabbage stock. So you see----"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Franco was careful not to let his wife know about this matter, and
+although she was aware that the letters had been sent to Cressogno, she
+did not ask if his grandmother had answered, until after the funeral,
+until some hours after the funeral. The little drawing-room, the little
+terrace, the little kitchen, had been full of people all day long, from
+nine o'clock in the morning until nine in the evening. At ten Luisa and
+Franco left the house without a lantern, turned to the right, went very
+slowly and silently through the darkness of the village, and, passing
+the bright and windy turning to which rises the deep roar of the river
+of S. Mametti, stood among the shadows and the pungent odours of the
+walnut-trees of Looch. Shortly before they reached the cemetery, Luisa
+said softly to her husband: "Have you heard nothing from Cressogno?" He
+would have liked to hide at least part of the truth from her, but he
+could not. He said his note had been returned to him; and then Luisa
+wanted to know if his grandmother had sent a word of condolence to
+Uncle Piero. Franco's "no" was almost timid, and so uncertain that,
+after they had gone on a few steps a suspicion flashed across Luisa's
+mind, and she suddenly stopped, and seized her husband's arm. Before she
+had uttered a word Franco understood and embraced her as he had embraced
+Uncle Piero, only still more impetuously, telling her to take his heart,
+his soul, his life, to seek for nothing else in this world. He felt she
+was trembling violently in his arms, but neither then nor afterwards did
+a word on this subject pass between them. At the gate of the cemetery
+they knelt together. Franco prayed with the fervour of faith. Luisa,
+with eager eyes, pierced the earth where it had been disturbed near the
+entrance; pierced the coffin, and, in thought, fixed her gaze on her
+mother's mild and serious face; once more, in thought, but with an
+impulse so violent that the bars of the gate shook, she bent forward,
+lower and lower, pressed her lips to the lips of the dead woman,
+imprinting upon them a violence of affection, stronger than all the
+insults, than all the baseness of this world.
+
+Towards eleven o'clock she tore herself reluctantly away from the spot.
+Going slowly down the slippery and stony path beside her husband there
+suddenly arose before her mind's eye a vision of a future meeting with
+the Marchesa. She stopped, drawing herself up and clenching her fists,
+and from her handsome, intelligent face there shone forth such
+fierceness that, could the old lady of marble have seen her thus, have
+met her at that moment, she might not have surrendered, perhaps, but she
+would certainly have hastened to put herself on the defensive.
+
+
+
+
+Part Second
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+FISHERMEN
+
+
+Dr. Francesco Zerboli, Imperial and Royal Commissary of Porlezza, landed
+at the Imperial and Royal _Ricevitoria_--the custom-house--at Oria, on
+the tenth day of September, 1854, just as a truly imperial and royal sun
+was rising above the ponderous bastions of Galbiga, glorifying the
+little pink custom-house and the oleanders and beans of Signora Peppina
+Bianconi, and summoning to his office, in accordance with the
+regulations, Signor Carlo Bianconi, her husband, that same Receiver of
+Customs who had scented conspiracy in manuscript music. Bianconi, whom
+his wife called _el me Carlascia_,--"my big Charley"--and the people,
+_el Biancon_, a tall man, fat and solid, with a clean-shaven chin, a
+grey moustache, and the large dull eyes of a faithful mastiff, went down
+to meet that other clean-shaven Imperial and Royal one, of higher rank.
+There was no resemblance between the two, save in the Austrian nudity of
+their chins. Zerboli, dressed in black and carefully gloved, was short
+and stout, and wore a pair of fair moustaches flattened against his
+sallow face, out of which peered two small, sarcastic, and scornful
+sparks of eyes. His hair grew so low on his forehead that he was in the
+habit of shaving off a strip, and at times a shade showed there, that
+gave him the appearance of some strange beast. Quick in his movements,
+in his glance, in his speech, he spoke, with easy courtesy, a nasal
+Italian, having the modulations of the province of Trento. He now
+informed the Receiver that he had come to hold a _convocato_--the
+communal council of those days--at Castello, and that he had preferred
+to come early and climb the hill while it was cool, from Oria rather
+than from Casarico or Albogasio, that he might have the pleasure of
+greeting the Receiver.
+
+The big, faithful mastiff did not at once understand that the Commissary
+had a second end in view, and poured forth his thanks in a medley of
+obsequious phrases, and short, silly laughs, rubbing his hands and
+offering coffee, milk, eggs, and the open air of the little garden. The
+other accepted the coffee, but declined the open air with a motion of
+his head and a wink so eloquent, that Carlascia, after shouting
+upstairs, "Peppina!" ushered him into the office where, feeling himself
+transformed (such was his double nature) from a receiver of customs into
+a police-officer, he composed himself, and put on an expression of
+austerity, as if about to enter into a sacramental union with the
+monarch himself. This office was a miserable hole on the ground floor,
+with iron gratings at the two small windows; an infectious and primitive
+cell, that already stunk of the great empire. The Commissary seated
+himself in the middle of the room, looking at the closed door that led
+from the landing-stage to the ante-room, the one leading from the
+ante-room to the office having been left open by his orders.
+
+"Tell me something of Signor Maironi," said he.
+
+"He is still watched," Bianconi answered, and continued in the Italian
+of Porta Tosa. "By the way--wait a moment--I have a report here that is
+nearly finished." And he began hunting and fumbling among his papers, in
+search of the report and of his glasses.
+
+"You will send it in, you will send it in!" exclaimed the Commissary,
+who had a dread of the big mastiff's prose.
+
+"Meanwhile speak. Tell me everything."
+
+"He is as ill-intentioned as ever. We knew before he was
+ill-intentioned, but now it is very evident," the eloquent Receiver
+continued. "He has begun to wear that beard--you know--that midget--that
+_moschetta_--that pointed tuft, that filthy----"[I]
+
+"Pardon me," said the Commissary, "you see I am new to the place. I have
+my instructions and I have received some information, but as yet I have
+no exact knowledge of the man and his family. You must describe them to
+me as minutely as you can. Let us begin with him."
+
+"He is a proud man, violent and overbearing. He has quarrelled here at
+least fifty times over questions of duty. He will never give in, and he
+wants to teach me and the guard also. His eyes flash as if he were going
+to eat the custom-house. But it is no use being overbearing with me,
+even if he----For indeed he knows almost everything, and that is a fact!
+He knows law, finance, music, flowers, fish, and the devil knows what
+all else."
+
+"And she?"
+
+"She? Oh, she is a sly puss, but when she shows her claws they are worse
+than his; much worse! When he is angry he turns red and makes a great
+row, she turns pale and is devilish insolent. Of course I never tolerate
+her insolence, but--well, you understand. She is a talented woman, I can
+tell you. My Peppina is devoted to her. She is a woman who makes friends
+everywhere. Here in Oria they often send for her instead of sending for
+the doctor. If there is a quarrel in a family, they send for her. If an
+animal has the stomach-ache, she must come. All the children run after
+her, and she even makes little dolls for them at Carnival time. You
+know, those little puppets. Moreover this woman can play on the spinet,
+and knows French and German. I am so unfortunate as not to speak German,
+so I have been to her several times to get German documents explained,
+when such come to the office."
+
+"Ah! So you go to the Maironis' house?"
+
+"Yes, sometimes, for that purpose."
+
+In truth the big mastiff also went there to get Franco to explain
+certain enigmatical passages in the customs-tariff to him, but he did
+not say so.
+
+The Commissary continued his examination.
+
+"And how is the house furnished?"
+
+"Well, very well. Fine Venetian floorings, painted ceilings, sofas
+heavily draped, a spinet, a splendid dining-room all hung with
+portraits."
+
+"And the Engineer-in-Chief?"
+
+"The engineer is a jolly, old-fashioned, kind man; he resembles me,
+though he is older. But he is not here much. He comes for two weeks
+about this time of the year, and two weeks more in the Spring, and he
+pays a few short visits in between. Just leave him alone, and let him
+have his milk in the morning, his milk at night, his flask of Modena for
+dinner, his game of _tarocchi_, and his _Milan Gazette_, and Engineer
+Ribera is perfectly happy. But to return to Signor Maironi's beard.
+There is something even worse! I discovered yesterday that the gentleman
+has planted a jasmine in a wooden box painted red!"[J]
+
+The Commissary, a man of parts, and probably in his secret heart,
+indifferent to all colours save that of his own complexion and his own
+tongue, could not refrain from slightly shrugging his shoulders.
+Nevertheless, he presently asked--
+
+"Is the plant in blossom?"
+
+"I don't know. I will ask the woman."
+
+"Ask whom? Your wife? So your wife goes to Casa Maironi also?"
+
+"Yes, from time to time."
+
+Zerboli fixed his two little scornful eyes on Bianconi's face, and put
+the following question, enunciating every syllable very distinctly.
+
+"Does she, or does she not, go there from good motives?"
+
+"Well, as to that, it depends! She imagines she goes as a friend of
+Luisina's, to talk about the flowers, their sewing, and for little bits
+of gossip, and they chatter and chirp away as women will; you know the
+way. But I get out of her----"
+
+"_Te chi, te chi!_ Behold, behold!" Signora Peppina Bianconi exclaimed
+in her Porta Ticinese dialect, as she came forward with the coffee,
+smiling pleasantly. "The Commissary! What a pleasure it is to see you! I
+am afraid the coffee isn't very good, but any way it is fresh made. It
+is a great nuisance not being able to have it from Lugano!"
+
+"Tut, tut, tut!" grumbled her husband crossly.
+
+"Well, what harm is that? I only said so in fun. You understood, didn't
+you, _Sur Commissari_? That blessed man there never understands
+anything. I never get any coffee for myself, anyway. I am taking
+mallow-water now for a dizzy head."
+
+"Don't talk so much, don't talk so much!" her husband interpolated, and
+the Commissary, setting down the empty cup, told the good woman that he
+was coming to see her flowers presently, and this gallantry was like the
+act of one who, at a cafe, throws the money upon the tray, that the
+waiter may take it and be gone.
+
+Signora Peppina understood, and awed by the ferocious eyes of her
+Carlascia, withdrew in haste.
+
+"Listen, listen, listen," the Commissary exclaimed, covering his brow
+with his left hand, and pressing his temples. "Oh!" he ejaculated,
+suddenly remembering, "I have it! I wanted to inquire if Engineer Ribera
+is in Oria at present."
+
+"He is not here now, but I believe he is coming very shortly."
+
+"Does Engineer Ribera spend much money on this Maironi family?"
+
+"He certainly must spend a great deal. I don't believe Don Franco has
+more than three _svanziche_ a day of his own, and she----" The Receiver
+blew across the palm of his hand. "So you see----! They keep a servant.
+They have a little girl about two years old, and so they must needs keep
+a maid to look after the child. They send away for flowers, books,
+music, and all sorts of things. Of an evening they play cards, and there
+is always a bottle of wine. It takes a good many _svanziche_ to live in
+this way, you know."
+
+The Commissary reflected a moment with a clouded brow, and eyes rolled
+up to the ceiling, and then, in short, disjointed sentences that sounded
+like fragments of an oracle, he let it be understood that Engineer
+Ribera, an Imperial and Royal official, recently favoured by the
+Imperial and Royal government with a promotion _in loco_, should exert a
+better influence over his nephew's family. Then with further
+questionings and further observations touching the engineer's present
+weaknesses, he intimated to Bianconi that his paternal attention should
+be directed with special secrecy and delicacy towards their Imperial and
+Royal colleague, in order that--should this become necessary--they might
+be able to enlighten their Superiors concerning certain acts of
+tolerance which would be scandalous. He ended by inquiring if Bianconi
+was aware that the lawyer V. from Varenna and another individual from
+Loveno were in the habit of visiting the Maironis quite often. The
+Receiver knew this, and had learned from his Peppina that they came to
+make music. "I don't believe it," the Commissary announced, with sudden
+and unusual asperity. "Your wife does not understand at all. If you go
+on like this, my dear Bianconi, they will lead you by the nose. Those
+two are a couple of rascals, who would be better off at Kufstein.[K] You
+must seek for more information, and when you have obtained it, you will
+pass it on to me. And now let us go into the garden. By the way, when
+anything comes from Lugano for the Marchesa Maironi----" Zerboli
+finished the sentence with a gesture of amiable munificence, and started
+forward, followed by the deeply mortified mastiff.
+
+Signora Peppina allowed them to find her in the garden watering the
+flowers aided by a small boy. The Commissary looked, admired, and found
+a means of giving the subaltern police-officer a little lesson. By
+praising her flowers he easily led Signora Bianconi to mention Franco,
+but, as if quite indifferent to that gentleman, he did not dwell a
+moment upon him, but stuck to the flowers, declaring that Maironi could
+not possibly have finer ones. Little cries, groans, and ejaculations
+broke from the humble Signora Peppina, who was really embarrassed by
+such a comparison. But the Commissary insisted. How? Even the Casa
+Maironi fuchsias were finer? The heliotrope and the _pelargonia_ also?
+How about the jasmine?
+
+"The jasmine!" Signora Peppina exclaimed. "Why, Signor Maironi has the
+finest jasmine in the whole Valsolda, my dear sir!"
+
+Thus, in the most natural way possible, did the Commissary presently
+discover that the famous jasmine had not yet blossomed. "I should like
+to see Don Franco's dahlias," said he. The ingenuous creature offered to
+accompany him to Casa Ribera that very day. "They will be so
+delighted!" But the Commissary expressed his desire to wait the coming
+of the Imperial and Royal Engineer-in-Chief, that he might have an
+opportunity of greeting him, whereupon Signora Peppina said approvingly:
+"That is right." Meanwhile the mastiff, humiliated by that superior
+skill, and wishing to show in some way that, at least, he was zealous,
+seized the boy with the watering-pot by the arm, and presented him:
+
+"My nephew. Son of a sister of mine, married to an Imperial and Royal
+doorkeeper, at the police station in Bergamo. He has the honour to bear
+the names, _Francesco Giuseppe_--Francis Joseph--bestowed upon him by my
+express desire. Of course, you see, it would not be respectful to use
+these names ordinarily----"
+
+"His mother calls him Rati, and his father calls him Ratu, fancy that!"
+Aunt Peppina put in.
+
+"Be quiet!" said his uncle. "I call him Francesco. He is a well-behaved
+boy, I must say; a very well-behaved boy. Now tell us, Francesco, what
+are you going to do when you are a man?"
+
+Rati rattled off his answer as if he were reciting his catechism.
+
+"When I am a man I shall always comport myself as behooves a faithful
+and devoted subject of His Majesty our Emperor, and a good Christian;
+and I hope, with the help of the Lord, to become some day, an Imperial
+and Royal Receiver of Customs like my uncle, that I may, at last, enter
+Paradise, and be duly rewarded for my virtuous actions."
+
+"Well done, well done, well done!" said Zerboli, caressing Rati. "Always
+walk in the path of virtue."
+
+"You be quiet, _Sur Commissari_," Peppina once more burst out. "This
+morning the little villain ate half the sugar out of the sugar-basin!"
+
+"What, what, what?" Carlascia exclaimed, forgetting his part in his
+astonishment. He remembered himself at once however, and declared: "It
+was your own fault. Things should be put away. Is not that true,
+Francesco?"
+
+"Perfectly," Rati answered; and the Commissary vexed at this wrangle,
+and at the twist his paternal admonition had received, took himself off
+without ceremony.
+
+Hardly had he disappeared when Carlascia scolded angrily: "You take the
+sugar again if you dare, you!" and hit Francis Joseph a formidable knock
+on the side of the head. This worthy had expected quite different
+treatment, and ran off to hide among the beans. Then Bianconi had it out
+with his wife, scolding her roundly, and swearing that in the future he
+would look after the sugar himself; and upon her daring retort: "What
+business is it of yours, after all?" he flung out: "Everything is my
+business, everything is my business!" and turning his back upon her,
+strode off, puffing and tingling, to the spot where his attentive wife
+had prepared the fishing-rod and the _polenta_, and began to bait the
+two great hooks he used in catching tench. In the olden days that little
+world was even more completely isolated from the great world than at
+present, and was, even more than at present, a world of silence and of
+peace, in which the functionaries of both State and Church, and,
+following their venerable example, many faithful subjects as well,
+dedicated several hours a day to edifying contemplation. Seated first on
+the West, the Receiver cast two hooks attached to a single line, two
+tempting mouthfuls of _polenta_, as far out from the shore as possible;
+when the line was stretched tight, when the float seemed firmly anchored
+in quiet expectation, the Imperial and Royal personage placed the short
+rod delicately upon the low wall, and sat down to contemplate. To the
+east of him the _sedentario_, as the customs-guard was then called,
+crouching on the humble landing-stage in front of another float, smoked
+his pipe and contemplated. A few steps beyond old, half-starved Custant,
+a retired white-washer, sacristan and churchwarden, one of the
+patricians of the village of Oria, sat in contemplation, on the prow of
+his boat, a lofty, prehistoric, tall hat on his head, the magic wand in
+his hand, his legs dangling above the water, and his soul concentrated
+on his own particular float. Seated on the edge of a small field, in the
+shade of a mulberry-tree and a large, black, straw hat, the puny, thin,
+be-spectacled Don Brazzova, parish-priest of Albogasio, was lost in
+contemplation, his image reflected in the clear water. In a
+kitchen-garden of Albogasio Inferiore, between the banks of the Ceron
+and that of Mandroeugn, another patrician in a jacket and high boots,
+the churchwarden Bignetta, called _el Signoron_, the _fine gentleman_,
+sitting stiff and solemn, upon an eighteenth century chair, with the
+famous rod in his hand, watched and contemplated. Under the fig-tree at
+Cadate, Don Giuseppe Costabarbieri sat in contemplation. At S. Mamette
+the doctor, the grocer, and the shoemaker were hanging over the water
+and contemplating most diligently. At Cressogno the Marchesa's florid
+cook was contemplating. Opposite Oria, on the shady deserted shore of
+Bisgnago, a dignified arch-priest from lower Lombardy was in the habit
+of leading a life of contemplation for forty days every year. All alone
+he sat, with three rods resting at his feet, while with the air of a
+bishop, he contemplated the three floats belonging to these rods--two
+with his eyes, one with his nose. If some one, passing far out on the
+lake could have seen all these brooding figures without perceiving the
+rods, the lines, and the floats, he would have thought himself in a
+country inhabited by hermits and ascetics, who, weary of the earth, were
+contemplating the sky in this liquid mirror, simply for the sake of
+greater convenience.
+
+As a matter of fact, all these ascetics were fishing for tench, and no
+mystery the future of humanity might contain could be of more
+importance to them than those mysteries at which the little float
+secretly hinted, when, as if possessed by a spirit, it showed signs of
+growing unrest, and, at last, even of mental derangement; for, after
+dipping and jerking, now forward, now backward, it would at last, in the
+utter confusion of its ideas, choose the desperate course of plunging
+head foremost into the depths. These phenomena, however, occurred only
+at rare intervals, and some of the contemplators would pass whole
+half-days without noticing the slightest movement in their floats. Then
+each one, removing his eyes from the bit of cork, would follow a line of
+thought running parallel with the line attached to the rod. Thus it
+sometimes happened that the arch-priest would land an episcopal see, the
+"fine gentleman," a wood that had once belonged to his ancestors, the
+cook, a tench from the hills, rosy and fair, and Custant, an order from
+government to whitewash the peak of Cressogno. As to Carlascia, his
+second line was usually of a political nature, and the reason of this
+will be more readily grasped if we reflect that the main line, the one
+attached to the rod, often awoke in his big, dull head certain political
+considerations which the Commissary Zerboli had suggested to him. "You
+see, my dear Receiver," Zerboli had once said, when discoursing weakly
+about the events which had taken place on the sixth of February in
+Milan, "you who fish for tench, can easily understand this matter. Our
+great monarchy is fishing with a line. The twin baits are Lombardy and
+the Venetian provinces; two round and tempting morsels, with iron
+inside. Our monarchy has cast them there at its feet, opposite the
+lurking-place of that foolish little fish, Piedmont. In 1848 it grabbed
+at the bait Lombardy, but eventually succeeded in spitting it out and
+making off. Milan is our float. When Milan moves, it means that the
+little fish is just beneath. Last year the float moved a wee bit, but
+the dear little fish had only sniffed at the bait. But wait, some day
+there will be a violent movement, and we shall give a jerk; there will
+be some struggling, some floundering, but we shall land our little fish,
+and never let it escape again, the little white, red, and green pig!"
+
+Bianconi had laughed heartily at this, and often when he sat down to
+fish, he would amuse himself by ruminating on this graceful simile, from
+which would generally arise other subtle and profound political musings.
+That morning the lake was quiet and most favourable to contemplation.
+The tallest grass of the precipitous bottom could be seen standing
+erect, a sign that there was no under-current. The baited hook cast far
+out, sunk straight and slowly, the line stretched evenly and smoothly
+below the float which sailed behind it a little way, surrounded by a
+series of tiny rings, that told of the ticklings of small carp, and then
+sunk into repose, a sign that the bait was resting on the bottom, and
+that the carp no longer worried it. The fisherman placed the short rod
+on the low wall, and fell to thinking of Engineer Ribera.
+
+Though he was not aware of it Bianconi had a large dose of meekness in
+one corner of his heart which God, without informing him of it, had made
+with a false bottom. The world had proof of this in 1859, when the dear
+little fish, having swallowed the bait Lombardy, with the hook, the
+line, the rod, the Commissary, and everything else, Bianconi took to
+planting national and constitutional cabbages at Precotto. In spite of
+this hidden meekness, as he now laid down his rod and reflected that
+poor, old Engineer Ribera was to be fished for, he experienced a
+singular satisfaction, neither in his heart, nor his head, nor in any of
+the usual senses, but in a particular sense of his own, purely Imperial
+and Royal! Indeed he had no consciousness of himself as distinct from
+the Austrian governing organism. Receiver at a small frontier
+customs-house, he considered himself the point of the nail on a finger
+of the state; then, as a police-agent, he considered himself a
+microscopic eye under that nail. His life was that of the monarchy. If
+the Russians tickled the skin of Galicia, he felt the itching at Oria.
+The greatness, the power, the glory of Austria inflated him with
+unbounded pride. He would not admit that Brazil was vaster than the
+Austrian Empire, or that China was more thickly populated, or that the
+Archangel Michael could take Peschiera, or the Almighty Himself take
+Verona. His real Almighty was the Emperor; he respected the One in
+Heaven as an ally of the one at Vienna.
+
+So, although he had never suspected that Engineer Ribera was an
+unfaithful subject, the Commissary's words--gospel truth to him--had
+carried conviction with them, and the idea of getting hold of this
+untrustworthy servant fired the zeal of the royal eye and the imperial
+finger nail. He called himself an ass for not having seen through this
+man before. Oh, but there was still time to catch him and hold him fast,
+fast, fast! "You just leave it to me! Just leave it to me, Signor
+Comm----"
+
+He broke off suddenly and seized the rod. Gently, almost without moving,
+the float had printed a ring on the water, the sign of a tench. Bianconi
+clutched the rod tight, holding his breath. Another dip of the float,
+another and larger ring; the float moved slowly, slowly upon the water,
+and then stopped. Bianconi's heart was beating violently; the float
+moved still a little further on the surface, and then went under; zag!
+Bianconi gave a jerk, and the rod bowed with the tugging on the line of
+a hidden fish. "Peppina, I've got him!" shouted Carlascia, losing his
+head. "The _guadell_, the _guadell_!" The customs-guard turned round
+enviously: "Have you got him, _Scior Recitor_?" Custant, consumed with
+envy, gave no sign, not even turning his tall hat. Rati and Signora
+Peppina came rushing up, the latter bringing the _guadell_, a long pole
+with a large net at the end of it, used for bagging the tench in the
+water, for it would be a desperate risk to lift it up by the line.
+Bianconi took the line and began drawing it in very slowly. The tench
+was not yet visible, but must surely be enormous. The line came in
+smoothly for a few feet, and then was jerked violently back; then it
+began to come in again, nearer, ever nearer, until, far down below the
+surface, underneath the very noses of the three personages, something
+yellow flashed, a monstrous shadow! "Oh, the beauty!" said Signora
+Peppina under her breath. Rati exclaimed: "_Madone, Madone!_" But
+Bianconi spoke never a word, and only pulled and pulled cautiously. It
+was a fine, big fellow, short and fat, with a dark back and a yellow
+belly, this fish that was coming up from the depths, nearly exhausted
+and moving crosswise with evident reluctance.
+
+The three faces did not please the fish, for it suddenly turned tail
+upon them, and once more dived furiously towards the depths. At last,
+however, completely exhausted, it followed the line, and appeared at the
+foot of the wall, its gilded belly uppermost. Signora Peppina, almost
+upside down on the parapet, plunged her rod as far as it would go,
+seeking in vain to bag the unhappy fish. "By the head!" shouted her
+husband. "By the tail!" piped Rati. At the noise, at sight of that
+terrible net, the fish struggled and dived. Peppina worked harder than
+ever, but could find neither head nor tail. Bianconi pulled and the
+tench rose to the surface once more, coiled itself up, and with a mighty
+jerk, snapped the line, and shot off amid the foam. "_Madone!_"
+exclaimed Rati, while Peppina continued to hunt about in the water with
+her rod. "Where is that fish? Where is that fish?" Bianconi, who had sat
+as one petrified, still grasping the line, now faced about in a rage; he
+kicked Rati, caught his wife by the shoulder, and shook her like a bag
+of nuts, loading her with reproaches. "Has it made off, _Scior
+Recitor_?" asked the customs-guard mellifluously. Custant turned his
+tall hat just a little, glanced towards the scene of the disaster, and
+then, returning to the contemplation of his own placid float, mumbled in
+an indulgent tone: "_Minga pratich!_ Not skillful!"
+
+Meanwhile the tench had returned to its native grass-grown depths,
+melancholy but free, like Piedmont after Novara. It is, however,
+doubtful if the poor Engineer-in-Chief will be equally fortunate.
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[I] A short, pointed beard, called _la mosca_, and worn by patriots in
+those days. [_Translator's note._]
+
+[J] Box, red; leaves, green; flower, white. The Italian colours, so the
+worthy Receiver scents sedition. [_Translator's note._]
+
+[K] Kufstein was one of the Austrian fortresses where "politicals" were
+imprisoned. [_Translator's note._]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE MOONSHINE AND CLOUD SONATA
+
+
+The sun was sinking behind the brow of Monte Bre and darkness was
+rapidly covering the precipitous shores and the houses of Oria, stamping
+the purple and gloomy profile of the hill on the luminous green of the
+waves, which were running obliquely towards the west, still high, but
+foamless in the tired _breva_. The lights in Casa Ribera had been the
+last to go out. Standing against the steep vineyards of the mountainside
+dotted with olives, it spanned the narrow road that follows the
+coast-line, its modest facade rising from the clear water, and flanked
+on the west, towards the village, by a little hanging-garden, divided
+into two tiers, on the east, towards the church, by a small terrace
+raised on pillars, which framed a square of church ground. In this
+facade there was a small boathouse where at that time the boat belonging
+to Franco and Luisa lay rocking on the jostling waves. Above the
+boathouse a slender gallery united the hanging-garden on the west and
+the terrace on the east, and looked out upon the lake by means of three
+windows. They called it a loggia, perhaps because it really had been
+one in olden times. The old house bore incrusted here and there several
+of these venerable, fossil names, which had survived through tradition,
+and represented, in their apparent absurdity, the mysteries of the
+religion of domestic walls. Behind the loggia was a spacious hall, and
+there were two rooms more behind that. On the west was the small
+dining-room, its walls covered with little, illustrious, paper men, each
+under his own glass and in his own frame, each in a dignified attitude,
+like the illustrious in flesh and blood, looking as if his colleagues
+did not exist at all, and the world was gazing at him alone. On the east
+was the alcove-room, where next to her parents, in her own little bed,
+slept Signorina Maria Maironi, born in August, 1852.
+
+From the great rococo chests to the bed-rooms, the kitchen cupboard, the
+black clock in the little dining-room, the sofa in the loggia, with its
+brown cover, sprinkled with red and yellow Turks; from the
+straw-bottomed chairs to the armchairs with disproportionately high
+arms, the furniture of the house all belonged to the epoch of the
+illustrious men, most of whom wore the wig and pigtail. Even though it
+did appear to have just descended from the garret, it seemed,
+nevertheless, to have regained in the light and air of its new
+surroundings certain lost habits of cleanliness, a decided interest in
+life, and the dignity of old age. Thus a collection of disused words
+might to-day be composed by the breath of some aged and conservative
+poet, and reflect his serene and graceful senility. Under the
+mathematical and bureaucratic rule of Uncle Piero, chairs and armchairs,
+tables large and small, had lived in perfect symmetry, and the privilege
+of immobility had been extended to the very mats themselves. The only
+piece of furniture which might have been called _movable_, was a grey
+and blue cushion, an abortive mattress, which the engineer, during his
+short visits at Oria, carried with him when he moved from one easy-chair
+to another. When he was absent the caretaker respected all relics of him
+to such an extent as never to dare touch them familiarly, or dust the
+less visible parts. This caused the housekeeper to fly into a rage,
+regularly, every time they returned to Valsolda. The master, vexed that
+a little dust should cause so much scolding of a poor peasant, would
+reprimand her, and suggest that she do the dusting herself; and when the
+woman--by way of a scornful retort--would demand, wrathfully, if she was
+to kill herself with dusting the house every time they came, he would
+answer good-naturedly: "If you kill yourself once, that will be
+sufficient."
+
+The cultivation of the little garden as well as of a kitchen-garden he
+owned to the east of the church grounds, he left entirely to the caprice
+of the caretaker. Only once, two years before Luisa's marriage, arriving
+at Oria at the beginning of September, and finding six stalks of maize
+growing on the second terrace of the little garden, did he allow
+himself to say to the man: "Look here, my friend. Couldn't you really
+get along without those six stalks of Indian corn?"
+
+Those liberal poets, Franco and Luisa, had breathed upon things and
+changed their aspect. Franco's poetry was more ardent, fervid and
+passionate; Luisa's more prudent. Thus Franco's sentiments always flamed
+out in his eyes, his face, his words, while Luisa's seldom burst into
+flames, and only tinged the depths of her penetrating glance, and her
+soft voice. Franco was conservative only in matters of religion and art;
+he was an ardent radical as far as the domestic walls were concerned,
+always planning transformations of ceilings, walls, floors, and drapery.
+Luisa began by admiring his genius, but as nearly all the funds came
+from her uncle, and there was little margin for extraordinary
+undertakings, she persuaded him, very gently and little by little, to
+leave the walls, the ceilings, and the floors as they were, and to study
+how best to arrange the furniture without seeking to transform it. And
+she would make suggestions without appearing to do so, letting him
+believe the ideas were his own, for Franco was jealous of the paternity
+of ideas, while Luisa was quite indifferent to this sort of maternity.
+Thus, together, they arranged the hall as a music-room, drawing-room,
+and reading-room; the loggia as a card-room, while the terrace was
+sacred to coffee and contemplation. This small terrace became in
+Franco's hands the lyric poem of the house. It was very tiny and Luisa
+felt that here a concession might be made, and an outlet provided for
+her husband's enthusiasms. It was then that the king of Valsoldian
+mulberry-trees fell from his throne, the famous and ancient mulberry of
+the churchyard, a tyrant that deprived the terrace of the finest view.
+Franco freed himself from this tyrant by pecuniary means; then he
+designed and raised above the terrace an airy context of slim rods and
+bars of iron which formed three arches surmounted by a tiny cupola, and
+over this he trained two graceful passion-flower vines, that opened
+their great blue eyes here and there, and fell on all sides in festoons
+and garlands. A small round table and some iron chairs served for coffee
+and contemplation. As to the little hanging-garden, Luisa would have
+been willing to put up even with maize, with that tolerance of the
+superior mind which loves to humour the ideas, the habits, the
+affections of inferior minds. She felt a sort of respectful pity for the
+horticultural ideals of the poor caretaker, for that mixture of
+roughness and gentleness he had in his heart, a great heart, capable of
+holding at once, reseda and pumpkins, balsam and carrots. But Franco,
+generous and religious though he was, would not have tolerated a carrot
+or a pumpkin in his garden for love of any neighbour. All stupid
+vulgarity irritated him. When the unfortunate kitchen-gardener heard Don
+Franco declare that the little garden was a filthy hole, that
+everything must be torn up, everything thrown away, he was so dazed and
+humiliated as to excite pity; but when, working under his master's
+orders, tracing out paths, bordering them with tufa-stones, planting
+flowers and shrubs, he saw how skilful Franco himself was with his
+hands, and how many terrible Latin names he knew, and what a surprising
+talent he possessed for imagining new and beautiful arrangements, he
+conceived, little by little, an almost fearful admiration for him, which
+soon--in spite of many scoldings--developed into devoted affection.
+
+The little hanging garden was transformed in Franco's own image and
+likeness. An _olea fragrans_ in one corner spoke of the power of gentle
+things over the hot, impetuous spirit of the poet; a tiny cypress, not
+over-acceptable to Luisa, spoke in another corner of his religiosity; a
+low, brick parapet, in open-work pattern, ran between the cypress and
+the _olea_, supporting two parallel rows of tufa-stones, between which
+blossomed a smiling colony of verbenas, petunias, and wall-flowers, and
+spoke of the singular ingenuity of its author; the many rose-bushes
+scattered everywhere spoke of his love of classic beauty; the _ficus
+repens_ which decked the walls towards the lake, the twin orange-trees
+between the two tiers, and a vigorous carob-tree, revealed a chilly
+temperament, a fancy turning always towards the south, insensible to the
+fascination of the north.
+
+Luisa had worked far harder than her husband, and still continued to do
+so, but whereas he was proud of his labours and glad to speak of them,
+Luisa, on the contrary, never mentioned hers, nor was she in the least
+proud of them. She laboured with the needle, the crochet, the iron, the
+scissors, with a wonderful, calm rapidity; working for her husband, her
+child, the poor, herself, and for the adornment of her house. Each room
+contained some creation of hers; dainty curtains, rugs, cushions, or
+lamp-shades. It was also her duty to arrange the flowers in the hall and
+the loggia; no flowers in pots, for Franco did not have many, and did
+not wish them shut up in rooms; no flowers from the little garden, for
+to gather one of those was like tearing it out of Franco's heart. But
+the dahlias, the gladioles, the roses, and the asters of the
+kitchen-garden were at Luisa's disposal. These, however, were not
+sufficient, and as the village loved "Sciora Luisa" best after the
+Almighty, St. Margherita, and St. Sebastian, at a sign from her, its
+children would bring her wildflowers and ferns, and ivy to festoon
+between the great bunches, stuck in metal rings on the walls. Even the
+arms of the harp that hung from the ceiling of the hall, were always
+entwined with long serpents of ivy and passion-flower.
+
+If they wrote to Uncle Piero of these innovations he would answer little
+or nothing. At most he would caution them not to keep the
+kitchen-gardener too busy, but to leave him time for his own work. The
+first time he came to Oria after the transformation of the little
+garden he paused and contemplated it as he had contemplated the six
+stocks of maize, and murmured under his breath: "Oh dear me!" He went
+out to the terrace, looked at the little cupola, touched the iron bars,
+and pronounced an "Enough!" that was resigned, but full of disapproval
+of so much elegance, which he considered above the position of his
+family and himself. But when he had examined in silence all the nosegays
+and bunches of flowers, the pots and the festoons of the hall and the
+loggia, he said, with his good-natured smile: "Look here, Luisa! Don't
+you think it would be better to keep a couple of sheep with all this
+fodder?"
+
+But the housekeeper was delighted that she no longer need kill herself
+for dust and cobwebs, and the kitchen-gardener was for ever praising the
+wonderful works of "Signor Don Franco," so that Uncle Piero himself soon
+began to grow accustomed to the new aspect his house had assumed, and to
+look without disapproval upon the little cupola, which, indeed, afforded
+a most grateful shade. At the end of two or three days he asked who had
+made it, and he would sometimes pause to examine the flowers in the
+garden, to inquire the name of one or another. At the end of eight or
+ten days, standing with little Maria at the door leading from the hall
+to the garden, he would ask her: "Who planted all those beautiful
+flowers?" and teach her to answer: "Papa!" He exhibited his nephew's
+creations to an employe of his who one day came to visit him, and
+listened to his expressions of approval with a fine assumption of
+indifference, but with the greatest satisfaction. "Yes, yes, he is
+clever enough." Indeed he ended by becoming one of Franco's admirers,
+and would even listen, in the course of conversation, to other projects
+of his. And in Franco, admiration and gratitude were growing for that
+great and generous bounty that had vanquished conservative nature, and
+the old aversion for elegance of every description; for that same bounty
+that at all such opposition rose silently and even higher behind the
+uncle's resistance, until it surmounted all, covered all in a broad wave
+of acquiescence, or at least with the sacramental phrase: "However,
+_fate vobis_; do as you like." One innovation only Uncle Piero had not
+been willing to accept--the disappearance of his old cushion. "Luisa,"
+said he, gingerly lifting the new, embroidered cushion from the
+easy-chair, "Luisa, take this away." And he would not be persuaded.
+"Will you take it away?" When Luisa, smiling, brought him the little
+abortive mattress he sat down upon it with a satisfied, "That's it!" as
+if he were solemnly taking possession of a lost throne.
+
+At the present moment, while the violet dusk was invading the green of
+the waves and running along the coast from village to village,
+eclipsing, one after another, the shining white houses, the engineer
+was seated upon his throne holding little Maria on his knees, while out
+on the terrace Franco was watering the pots of pelargonia, his heart and
+his face as full of affectionate satisfaction as if he had been slaking
+the thirst of Ishmael in the desert. Luisa was patiently untangling a
+fishing-line belonging to her husband, a frightful snarl of string,
+lead, silk, and hooks. She was talking, meanwhile, with Professor
+Gilardoni, who always had some philosophical snarl to untangle, but who
+greatly preferred a discussion with Franco, who always contradicted him,
+right or wrong, believing him to possess an excellent heart, but a
+confused head. Uncle Piero, his right knee resting on his left, held the
+child on this elevation, and for the hundredth time at least, was
+repeating a little scrap of verse to her, with affected slowness, and a
+slight distortion of the foreign name--
+
+    Proud shade of the river,
+      Of Missipipi----
+
+As far as the seventh word the child would listen, motionless and
+serious, with earnest eyes; but when he reached "Missipipi," she would
+burst out laughing, pound hard with her little legs, and clap her tiny
+hands over the uncle's mouth, who would also laugh merrily, and after a
+short pause he would begin again, speaking slowly, slowly, in the same
+approved tone:
+
+    Proud shade of the river----
+
+The child did not resemble either father or mother; she had the eyes,
+the delicate features of Grandmother Teresa. She exhibited a strange
+impetuous tenderness for the old uncle, whom she so seldom saw. Uncle
+Piero did not use sweet words to her; indeed, when necessary, he would
+even chide her gently, but he always brought her toys, often took her
+out to walk, danced her upon his knee, laughed with her, and repeated
+comic verses to her--the one beginning with the "Missipipi," and that
+other, ending with the words:
+
+    Answered so promptly young Barucaba!
+
+Who may this Barucaba have been, and what had they been asking him?
+"_Toa Ba! Toa Ba!_ Barucaba again! Barucaba again!" and once more the
+uncle would recite the poetic tale to the child, but there is no one now
+to repeat it to me.
+
+This is what Professor Gilardoni was discussing in his timid, gentle
+voice with Luisa; the Professor, grown just a little older, just a
+little more bald, just a little more sallow. "Who knows," Luisa had
+said, "if Maria will resemble her grandmother in soul as she does in
+face." The Professor replied that it would indeed be a miracle to find
+two such souls in the same family, and separated by so short an interval
+of time. Then wishing to explain to how rare a species he conceived the
+grandmother's soul to have belonged, he gave voice to the following
+tangle: "There are souls," said he, "that openly deny a future life, and
+live according to their opinions, solely for the present life. Such are
+few in number. Then there are souls that pretend to believe in a future
+life, and live entirely for the present. These are far more numerous.
+There are souls that do not think about the future life, but live so
+that they may not run too great a risk of losing it if, after all, it
+should be found to exist. These are more numerous still. Then there are
+souls that really do believe in the future life, and divide their
+thoughts and actions into two categories, which are generally at war
+with each other; one is for heaven, the other for earth. There are very
+many such. And then there are souls that live entirely for the future
+life, in which they believe. These are very few, and Signora Teresa was
+one of them."
+
+Franco, who hated psychological disquisitions, passed frowning, with his
+empty watering-pot, on his way to the little garden, and thought: "Then
+there are those souls that are bores!" Uncle Piero who, by the way, was
+slightly deaf, was laughing with Maria. When her husband had passed,
+Luisa said softly: "Then there are souls that live as if there were only
+the future life, in which they do not believe. And of such there is
+one." The Professor started, and looked at her in silence. She was
+hunting in the tangle of the line for a double thread with a ring that
+must be drawn through, and though she did not see his glance, still she
+felt it, and quickly nodded towards her uncle. Had she really been
+thinking of him when speaking those words? Or had there been in her
+some occult complication? Had she alluded to her uncle without
+conviction, simply because she dare not name, even in thought, another
+person to whom her words might more justly apply? The Professor's
+silence, his searching glance which she had felt without meeting,
+revealed to her that he suspected her. It was for that reason she had
+hastily nodded towards Uncle Piero.
+
+"Does he not believe in a future life?" the Professor asked.
+
+"I should say not," Luisa answered, and then at once her heart was
+filled with remorse, for she felt that her reasons for affirming this
+were not sufficient, that she had no right to answer thus. In fact her
+uncle had never taken the trouble to meditate on religion. In his
+conception of honesty were included the continuation of the ancient,
+family practices and the profession of the inherited faith, accepted
+carelessly, as it stood. His was a good-natured God like himself, who,
+again like himself, cared little for genuflections and rosaries; a God
+well pleased to have honest, hearty men for His ministers, as Uncle
+Piero was well pleased to have such for his friends, even though they
+might be merry eaters and drinkers, life-long devotees of _tarocchi_,
+open tellers of spicy but not filthy stories, as a lawful outlet for
+that prurient hilarity which is in all of us. Certain joking remarks of
+his, certain aphorisms uttered thoughtlessly upon the relative
+importance of religious practices and the absolute importance of honest
+living, had struck her, even as a child, especially as they greatly
+vexed Signora Teresa, who would entreat her brother not to "talk
+nonsense." She suspected that he went to church simply because it was
+fitting to do so. Perhaps this was not true; one must overlook the
+aphorisms of a man who had grown old in self-sacrifice and
+self-abnegation, and who was wont to say: _Charitas incipit a me._
+Besides, even if her uncle did hold religious practices in slight
+esteem, there was a vast difference between that and denying a future
+life. Indeed, as soon as Luisa had uttered her opinion and had heard how
+it sounded, she felt it was false, saw more clearly within herself and
+realised that she had been seeking in her uncle's example, a prop and a
+comfort for herself.
+
+The Professor was greatly moved by this unexpected revelation.
+
+"This one soul," said he, "that lives as if thinking only of a future
+life in which it does not believe, is indeed in error, but nevertheless,
+we are bound to admire it as the most noble, the greatest of all. It is
+something sublime!"
+
+"But are you then sure that this soul is in error?"
+
+"Oh, yes, yes!"
+
+"And you yourself, to which category do you belong?"
+
+The Professor really believed he was of the few who rule their actions
+entirely according to an aspiration towards a future life, but he would
+have been embarrassed had he been called upon to demonstrate that his
+earnest study of Raspail, his zeal in the preparation of sedative water
+and camphor cigarettes, his horror of dampness and of draughts, were
+proofs of slight attachment to the present life. However, he would not
+answer, but said that though he did not belong to any church, he
+nevertheless, believed firmly in God and the future life, and that he
+could not judge of his own conduct.
+
+Meanwhile, Franco, watering the little garden, had discovered that a new
+verbena had blossomed, and setting down his watering-pot, had come to
+the door of the loggia and was calling to Maria, to whom he wished to
+point it out. Maria let him call, and demanded "Missipipi" again,
+whereupon the uncle put her down, and himself led her to her father.
+
+"But, Professor," Luisa said, emerging by means of the living word from
+a course of occult ponderings, "do you not think one may believe in God
+and still be in doubt concerning the future life?"
+
+Speaking thus she had dropped the tangled maze of net, and was looking
+the Professor straight in the face, with an expression of lively
+interest, and a manifest desire that he might answer yes. As Gilardoni
+did not speak she added--
+
+"It seems to me some one might say: What obligation is God under to
+give us immortality? The immortality of the soul is an invention of
+human selfishness, which, after all, simply wishes to make God serve its
+own convenience. We want a reward for the good we do to others, and a
+punishment for the evil others do to us. Let us rather resign ourselves
+to complete death, which comes to every living thing, being just with
+ourselves and with others as long as we live, without looking for future
+reward, but simply because God wishes it, as he wishes every star to
+give light, and every tree to give shade. What do you think about it?"
+
+"What can I say?" Gilardoni answered. "It seems to me a thought of great
+beauty! I cannot say: a great truth. Indeed I do not know. I have never
+thought about it, but it is very beautiful! I will say that Christianity
+has never had, has never even imagined a Saint so sublime as this _some
+one_! It is very beautiful, very beautiful!"
+
+"And besides," Luisa continued after a short silence, "it might also be
+maintained that this future would not mean perfect happiness. Can there
+be happiness if we do not know the reasons of all things? If we may not
+explain all mysteries? And will this longing to know all things be
+satisfied in the future life? Will there not always remain one
+impenetrable mystery? Do they not teach us that we shall never
+understand God perfectly? Therefore, in our longing to know, shall we
+not end by suffering as at present, perhaps even more, because in a
+higher life that longing must become stronger? I can only see one way of
+arriving at a knowledge of everything, and that would be to become
+God----"
+
+"Ah! You are a pantheist!" the Professor exclaimed, interrupting her.
+
+"Hush!" said Luisa. "No, no, no, I am a Catholic Christian. I am only
+repeating what others might say."
+
+"Pardon me, but there is a pantheism----"
+
+"Philosophy still?" exclaimed Franco, coming in with the little one in
+his arms.
+
+"Oh, misery!" grumbled Uncle Piero behind him.
+
+Maria held a beautiful white rose in her hand. "Look at this rose,
+Luisa," said Franco. "Maria, give Mamma the flower. Look at the shape of
+this rose, its pose, its shading, the veins in its petals; look at that
+red stripe, and inhale its perfume. Now drop philosophy."
+
+"You are an enemy of philosophy?" the Professor said, smiling.
+
+"I am a friend of that simple and sure philosophy which even roses can
+teach me," Franco answered.
+
+"Philosophy, my dear Professor," Uncle Piero put in solemnly, "is all
+contained in Aristotle. You can get all you want from that source."
+
+"You are jesting," the Professor said, "but you yourself are a
+philosopher."
+
+The engineer placed a hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Listen, dear friend! My philosophy could all be put into eight or ten
+glasses."
+
+"Mercy on us! Eight or ten glasses!" grumbled the housekeeper, who had
+caught her most temperate master's words of boastful intemperance, as
+she came in. "Eight or ten fiddlesticks!"
+
+She had come to announce Don Giuseppe Costabarbieri, whose hollow but
+jolly voice was just then heard in the hall, saying heartily, "_Deo
+gratias_." Then the red and wrinkled face, the lively eyes, and the grey
+hair of the gentle priest appeared.
+
+"We are discussing philosophy, Don Giuseppe," said Luisa when greetings
+had been exchanged. "Come here and let us have your valuable opinion."
+
+Don Guiseppe scratched his head, and then turning it slightly towards
+the engineer, with the expression of one who desires something for which
+he hardly dares to ask, gave utterance to this flower of his
+philosophical opinions.
+
+"Wouldn't a little game of primero be better?"
+
+Franco and Uncle Piero, who were only too glad to escape from
+Gilardoni's philosophy, sat merrily down to the little table with the
+priest.
+
+As soon as he and Luisa were alone, the Professor said softly--
+
+"The Marchesa left yesterday."
+
+Luisa, who had taken Maria upon her lap, pressed her lips to the child's
+neck passionately.
+
+"Perhaps," continued Gilardoni, who had never known how to read in the
+human heart, or to touch its chords correctly, "perhaps sometime--it is
+only three years, yet--perhaps the day may come when she will yield."
+
+Luisa raised her face from Maria's neck. "Perhaps _she_ may yield!" said
+she. The Professor did not understand, and giving way to the evil genius
+that invariably suggested to him the worst word at the worst moment, he
+persisted instead of breaking off. "Perhaps, if she could see Maria!"
+Luisa pressed the little girl to her breast, and looked at him so
+fiercely that he was confused, and stammered, "I beg your pardon!"
+Maria, in this close embrace, raised her eyes to her mother's strange
+face, grew very red, pressed her lips tight together, cried two great
+tears, and began to sob.
+
+"No, no, dear!" Luisa murmured tenderly to her, "be quiet, be quiet! You
+shall never see her, never!"
+
+As soon as the child was comforted the Professor, distressed at the
+mistake he had made, at having offended this Luisa, who seemed to him a
+superhuman being, wished to explain, to justify himself, but Luisa would
+not allow him to speak. "Pardon me, but that will do," said she, rising.
+"Let us go and watch the game."
+
+But, as a matter of fact, she did not go near the players. She sent
+Maria to amuse herself in the church-grounds with her little nurse,
+Veronica, and herself went to carry a piece of pudding to an old
+villager who had a voracious appetite and a small voice, with which he
+would every day promise his benefactress the same precious recompense,
+"Before I die, I will give you a kiss."
+
+Meanwhile the Professor was filled with scruples and remorse for the
+unfortunate step he had taken. Not knowing whether to go or to remain,
+whether the lady would or would not return, whether it would or would
+not be indiscreet to go in search of her, after having looked out
+towards the lake as if seeking advice from the fishes, towards the hills
+to see if she or some one of whom he could inquire about her happened to
+be at one of the windows, he finally went to watch the game.
+
+Each one of the players kept his eyes fixed on the four cards he held in
+his left hand, placed one upon the other in such a way that the second
+and third projected above the others just enough to be recognisable,
+while the fourth remained carefully hidden.
+
+The Professor reflected that he also held a secret card, a trump, and he
+was undecided whether to play it or not. He held old Maironi's will. A
+few days after Signora Teresa's death, Franco had told him to destroy
+it, and never breathe a word about it to Luisa. He had obeyed only so
+far as keeping silence was concerned. The document still existed, though
+of this Franco was ignorant, because its custodian had determined to
+await the development of events, to see if Cressogno and Oria would come
+to terms, or if, in consequence of prolonged hostilities, Franco and
+his family would be reduced to want, in which case he himself intended
+to do something. What he should do, he did not really know. He was
+nurturing the germs of several foolish plans in his head, and trusted
+that one or other of them would have ripened before the time for action
+arrived. Now, as he watched Franco play, he wondered how that man, so
+engrossed in his desire to win a pasteboard king, could ever have
+refused that other precious card, not even wishing to inform his wife of
+its existence. He attributed this silence to modesty, to a desire to
+hide a generous action, and although he had suffered more than one sharp
+rebuff from him, and felt that Franco esteemed him lightly, still he
+looked upon him with a respect full of humble devotion.
+
+"Give me the cards! Give me the cards!" the priest exclaimed, and he
+shuffled them eagerly. Then the game, symbol of the universal struggle
+between the blacks and the reds, began once more.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The lake now lay sleeping, covered and encircled by shadows. Only on the
+east the great, distant mountains of the Lario were still in a glory of
+purple and rich, yellow gold. The first breath of the evening breeze out
+of the north, moved the tender branches of the passion-flowers, ruffled,
+in spots, the surface of the grey waters towards the upper lake, and
+wafted a perfume of cool woods.
+
+When Luisa returned the Professor had been gone some time.
+
+"Ah, here is _Sciora_ Luisa!" said Don Giuseppe, who was feeling quite
+satisfied, having had his fill of primero, and he gently stroked the
+modest rotundity of his ribs and belly. Then this little personage of
+the world of long ago remembered the second object of his visit. He had
+wished to speak a little word to Signora Luisa. The engineer had gone
+out to take his usual short walk as far as the Tavorell hill, which he
+jokingly called the St. Bernard, and Franco, after a glance at the moon
+which was just then sparkling above the black brow of the Bisgnago, and
+below, in the undulations of the water, began improvising on the piano
+outpourings of ideal sorrow, that floated out of the open windows upon
+the deep sonorousness of the lake. His musical improvisations were more
+successful than his elaborate poems because in music his impulsive
+feelings found a mode of expression more facile, more complete, and the
+scruples, the uncertainties, the doubts which rendered the labour of
+language most wearisome and slow, did not torment his fancy at the
+piano. There he would give himself up, body and soul, to the poetic
+rage, and quivering to the roots of his hair, his clear, speaking eyes
+reflecting every little shade in the musical expression, while his face
+worked with the continuous movement of inarticulate words, his hands,
+though neither very agile nor very supple, would make the piano sing
+ineffably.
+
+At the present moment he was passing from one tone to another, breathing
+hard, and putting all the strength of his intellect into those passages,
+eviscerating the instrument, as it were, with his ten fingers, and
+almost with his glowing eyes as well. He had begun to play under the
+spell of the moonshine, but as he played, sad clouds had arisen from the
+depths of his heart. Conscious that as a youth he had dreamed of glory
+and that later he had humbly laid aside all hope of attaining it, he
+said, almost to himself, with his sad and passionate music, that in him
+there was indeed some glow of genius, some of the fire of creation seen
+only by God, for not even Luisa exhibited that esteem for his intellect
+which he himself lacked, but which he could have wished to find in her;
+not even Luisa, the heart of his heart. She praised his music and his
+poetry in measured terms, but she had never said: "Follow this path,
+dare, write, publish." He was thinking of this as he played on in the
+dark hall putting into a tender melody the lament of his love, the
+timid, secret lament he would never have dared to put into words.
+
+Out on the terrace in the quivering light-and-shade formed by the breath
+of the north wind and the passion-flower vines, by the moon and its
+reflection in the lake, Don Giuseppe was telling Luisa that Signor
+Giacomo Puttini was angry with him on account of Signora Pasotti, who
+had repeated to him the false report that he, Don Giuseppe, was going
+about preaching the necessity of a marriage between Puttini and
+Marianna. "May I be struck dead," the poor priest protested, "if I ever
+breathed a single word! Not a single word! It is all a lie!" Luisa would
+not believe poor Barborin guilty, but Don Giuseppe declared he had it
+straight from the Controller himself. Then she understood at once that
+the cunning Pasotti was indulging in a joke at the expense of his wife,
+Signor Giacomo, and the priest, and declining to interfere in the matter
+as Don Giuseppe wished her to do, she advised him to speak to Signora
+Pasotti herself. "She is so terribly deaf!" said the priest, scratching
+his head; and he finally departed, dissatisfied, and without saluting
+Franco, whom he did not wish to interrupt. Luisa went towards the piano
+on tiptoe, and stopped to listen to her husband, to hear the beauty, the
+richness, the fire of that soul which was hers, and to which she
+belonged for ever. If she had never said to Franco, "Follow this path,
+write, publish!" it was perhaps because in her well-balanced affection
+she believed, and with reason, that he would never be able to produce
+anything superior to mediocrity, but it was above all, because, although
+she had a fine feeling for music and poetry, she did not really esteem
+either of much account. She did not approve of a man's dedicating
+himself wholly to either, and she had an ardent longing that her
+husband's intellectual and material activity should flow in a more
+manly channel. Nevertheless, she admired Franco in his music more than
+if he had been a great master; she found in this almost secret
+expression of his soul something virginal, something sincere, the light
+of a loving spirit, most worthy to be loved.
+
+He did not perceive her presence until two arms brushed his shoulders
+and he saw two little hands hanging on his breast. "No! no! Play, play!"
+Luisa murmured, for Franco had grasped the hands; but, without
+answering, his head thrown back, he sought her, sought her lips and her
+eyes, and she kissed him and then raised her face, repeating, "Play." He
+drew the imprisoned wrists still farther down, silently praying for the
+sweet, sweet mouth: then she surrendered, and pressed her lips upon his
+in a long kiss, full of understanding, and infinitely more exquisite,
+more exhilarating than the first. Then she once more whispered, "Play."
+
+And in his happiness he played the music of triumph, full of joy and of
+cries. For at that moment it seemed to him he possessed the soul of this
+woman in its entirety, whereas sometimes, even though convinced that she
+loved him, he seemed to feel in her that lofty reason, towering serene
+and cold, above love itself, and far beyond the reach of his
+enthusiasms. She would often place her hands upon his head, and from
+time to time kiss his hair softly. She was aware of her husband's
+doubts, and always protested that she was all his, but in her heart she
+knew he was right. There was in her a tenacious, fierce sense of
+intellectual independence which withstood love. She could judge her
+husband calmly, recognising his imperfections, but she felt he was not
+capable of doing the same, felt how humble he was in his love, in his
+boundless devotion. She did not think she was unjust to him, she felt no
+remorse, but she was touched with loving pity when she pondered these
+things. Now she guessed the meaning of this joyous musical outpouring,
+and, deeply moved, she embraced Franco and the piano became suddenly
+silent.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Uncle Piero's slow, heavy step was heard on the stairs; he was returning
+from his St. Bernard.
+
+It was eight o'clock, and the usual _tarocchi_-players, Signors Giacomo
+and Pasotti, had not yet arrived, for in September Pasotti himself
+became a regular visitor at Casa Ribera, where he pretended to be in
+love with the engineer, with Luisa, and even with Franco. Franco and
+Luisa suspected some duplicity, but Pasotti was an old friend of the
+uncle's, and must be tolerated out of respect to him. As the players
+failed to appear Franco proposed to his wife that they should go out in
+the boat to enjoy the moon. First, however, they went to see Maria, who
+was asleep in her little bed in the alcove, her head drooping towards
+her right shoulder, one arm under her pillow, and the other resting
+across her breast. They looked at her and kissed her smiling, and then
+the silent thoughts of both flew to Grandmamma Teresa, who would have
+loved her so dearly. With serious faces, they kissed her once more. "My
+poor little one!" said Franco. "Poor, penniless, Donna Maria Maironi!"
+
+Luisa placed her hand upon his mouth. "Be quiet!" said she. "We are
+fortunate, we who are the penniless Maironis."
+
+Franco understood, and did not answer at once, but presently, when they
+were leaving the room to go to the boat, he said to his wife, forgetting
+one of his grandmother's threats, "It will not always be thus."
+
+This allusion to the old Marchesa's wealth displeased Luisa. "Do not
+speak of it to me," she said. "I would not soil my fingers by touching
+that money."
+
+"I was thinking of Maria," Franco observed.
+
+"Maria has us. We can work."
+
+Franco was silent. Work! That was one of the words that chilled his
+heart. He knew he was leading a life of indolence, for were not music,
+books, flowers, and a few verses now and then, merely vanities and a
+waste of time? And he was leading this life almost entirely at the
+expense of others, for how could he possibly have managed with only his
+one thousand Austrian lire a year? How could he have maintained his
+family? He had taken his collegiate degree, but without deriving the
+slightest profit from it. He doubted his own ability, felt himself too
+much of an artist, too foreign to forensic wiles, and he was well aware
+that the blood of earnest labourers did not flow in his veins. His only
+hope was in a revolution, a war, in the freedom of his country. Ah! When
+Italy should be free, how well he would serve her, with what great
+strength, what joy! This poetry he had indeed in his heart, but he
+lacked the energy, the constancy to prepare himself by study for such a
+future.
+
+While he was rowing away from the shore in silence, Luisa was wondering
+how it was that her husband could pity the child because she was poor.
+Did not this sentiment stand in contradiction to Franco's faith, to his
+Christian piety? She recalled Professor Gilardoni's categories. Franco
+believed firmly in a future life, but in practice he clung passionately
+to all that is beautiful and good in this earthly life, clung to all its
+lawful pleasures, including cards and dainty dinners. One who obeyed the
+precepts of the Church so scrupulously, who was so careful to abstain
+from flesh on Fridays and Saturdays, to listen to a sermon every Sunday,
+should conform his daily life far more strictly to the evangelical
+ideal. He should rather fear than desire riches.
+
+"A pleasant sail to you!" Uncle Piero called out from the terrace,
+catching sight of the boat and Luisa seated in the prow in the
+moonlight. Opposite black Bisgnago all Valsolda, from Niscioree to
+Caravina lay spread out in the glory of the moon; all the windows of
+Oria and of Albogasio, the arches of Villa Pasotti, the tiny white
+houses of the most distant villages, Castello, Casarico, S. Mamette,
+Drano, seemed to be gazing as if hypnotised, at the great, motionless
+eye of the dead orb in the heavens.
+
+Franco drew the oars into the boat. "Sing," said he.
+
+Luisa had never studied singing, but she possessed a sweet mezzo-soprano
+voice and a perfect ear, and had learned many operatic airs from her
+mother, who had heard Grisi, Pasta, and Malibran, during the golden days
+of Italian opera.
+
+She began the air from _Anne Boleyn_:
+
+    Al dolce guidami
+    Castel natio.
+
+The song of the soul which at first descends, little by little, and
+finally, in greater sweetness gives itself up to its love, to rise
+again, locked in his embrace, in an impulse of desire towards some
+distant light which shall complete its happiness. She sang, and Franco,
+carried away, fancied that she longed to be united to him in that lofty
+region of the soul from which she had, until now, excluded him; that in
+this perfect union, she longed to be guided by him towards the goal of
+his ideals. A sob rose in his throat, and the rippling lake, the great
+tragic mountains, those eyes of things fixed upon the moon, the very
+light of the moon itself, everything, was filled with his indefinable
+sentiment. And so, when beyond the broken image of the orb, silver
+lights flashed for a moment as far as Bisgnago, and even into the
+shadowy gulf of the Doi, he was moved, as if they had been mysterious
+signals concerning him, which lake and moon were exchanging, while Luisa
+finished the verse:
+
+    Ai verdi platani,
+      Al cheto rio
+    Che i nostri mormora
+    Sospi ancor.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Pasotti's voice called from the terrace--
+
+"_Brava!_"
+
+And Uncle Piero shouted--
+
+"_Tarocco!_"
+
+At the same moment they heard the oars of a boat coming from Porlezza,
+and a bassoon mimicked the air of _Anne Boleyn_. Franco, who had seated
+himself in the stern of his boat, started to his feet, crying
+delightedly--
+
+"Who goes there?" A fine, big, bass voice answered him--
+
+    Buona sera
+    Miei signori,
+    Buona sera,
+    Buona sera.
+
+They were his friends from the Lake of Como, the lawyer V. of Varenna
+and a certain Pedraglio of Loveno, who were in the habit of coming to
+make music openly, and discuss politics in secret; this was known only
+to Luisa.
+
+They called from the terrace--
+
+"Well done, Don Basilio!--Bravo, bassoon!" And in the interval the voice
+could be heard of some one who was begging to be excused from _tarocco_:
+"No, no, most gracious Controller, it is late! The time is too short;
+really too short. Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Indeed you must excuse me. I
+cannot, I cannot. Most worshipful Engineer, I appeal to you!"
+
+But they made the little man play, promising that they would not go
+beyond two games. He puffed very hard, and sat down to the little table
+with the engineer, Pasotti, and Pedraglio. Franco seated himself at the
+piano, and the lawyer placed himself beside him with the bassoon.
+
+Between Pasotti and Pedraglio, two terrible quizzers, poor Signor
+Giacomo passed a short half-hour which was full of tribulation. They did
+not leave him alone a minute. "How goes it, _Scior Zacomo_?--Badly,
+badly! _Scior Zacomo_, are there no friars walking about in
+slippers?--Not one. And the bull, how is the bull, _Scior
+Zacomo_?--Stop, stop--A most accursed beast, eh?--Yes, indeed, Sir. And
+the servant, _Scior Zacomo_?" "Hush!" exclaimed Pasotti at this
+impertinent question of Pedraglio's. "Be prudent. On this point Signor
+Giacomo is having a great deal of trouble, through the indiscretion of
+certain individuals." "Let us not discuss it, most gracious Controller,
+let us not discuss it!" Signor Giacomo exclaimed, writhing all over, and
+the engineer advised him to send his tormentors to the devil. "But how
+is this, _Scior Zacomo_," Pasotti went on, undaunted, "don't you call
+that little priest indiscreet?" "I call him an ass!" Signor Giacomo
+answered angrily. Then Pasotti, smiling and triumphant, because this
+joke was really of his own making, ordered Pedraglio to be quiet, and
+started the game afresh, although Pedraglio was bursting with curiosity
+to hear the story.
+
+Franco and the lawyer were studying a new composition for piano and
+bassoon, continually making mistakes and beginning over again. Presently
+Signora Bianconi came in on tiptoe that she might not interrupt the
+melody. No one noticed her entrance save Luisa, who made her sit down
+beside her on the little sofa near the piano.
+
+Signora Peppina with her cordial good-nature, her long tongue, and her
+foolishness was irritating to Franco, but not to Luisa. Luisa liked her,
+but she was careful on account of Carlascia. From her garden Peppina had
+heard that "lovely song," and then the bassoon and the greetings; she
+had imagined there was going to be music, and she was "so madly fond of
+music, you know!" There was that lawyer who "blows into that shiny
+thing," to say nothing of Don Franco with those fingers of his "that
+seem bewitched." To hear the piano played with such precision was as
+good as hearing a barrel-organ, and she was "so awfully fond" of
+barrel-organs! She added that she had been afraid she should disturb
+them, but that her husband had encouraged her to come. And she asked if
+that other gentleman from Loveno did not play also; if they were going
+to stay long; and observed that both must be passionately fond of music.
+
+"I'll be even with you, you rascal of a Receiver," thought Luisa, and
+she proceeded to stuff his wife with the most ridiculous tales of the
+melomania of Pedraglio and the lawyer, inventing more and more as she
+grew more and more angry with those odious persons against whom one was
+obliged to defend one's self by lying. Signora Peppina swallowed all the
+stories scrupulously down to the very last, accompanying them with
+gentle notes of pleased wonder: "Oh, how strange!--Just fancy!--Just
+think of that!" Then, instead of listening to the diabolical dispute
+going on between the piano and the bassoon, she began to talk of the
+Commissary, saying he intended to come and see Don Franco's flowers.
+
+"He may come," said Luisa, coldly.
+
+Then Signora Peppina, taking advantage of the storm Franco and his
+friend were raising, risked a little private speech, which would have
+cost her dear had her Carlascia overheard it, but fortunately that
+faithful mastiff was asleep in his own bed, his night-cap drawn well
+down over his ears.
+
+"I am so devoted to these dear flowers!" she began. It was her opinion
+the Maironis would do well to pet the Commissary a little. He was one
+of the Marchesa's intimates, and it would be awful if he should take it
+into his head to cause them trouble. He was a terrible man, this
+Commissary! "Now my Carlo barks a little, but he is a good creature; the
+other one doesn't bark, but--you understand?" She herself knew nothing
+about it, had not heard anything, but if, for example, that lawyer and
+the other gentleman had come for something else than music, and the
+Commissary should find it out----! Then the Lord have mercy on us!
+
+The moon was dragging its splendour across the lake towards the western
+waters; the game had come to an end, and Signor Giacomo was preparing to
+light his little lantern, in spite of Pasotti's remonstrances. "A light,
+_Scior Zacomo_? You are mad! A light with such a moon!" "At your
+service," Puttini replied. "In the first place there is that accursed
+Pomodoro to cross, and then--_cossa vorla_--the moon nowadays! Besides I
+must tell you it is the August moon, for although we are in September,
+still the moon belongs to August. Well, once upon a time, my dear sirs,
+August moons were fine and big, as large as the bottom of a cask at
+least; now they are no better than moonlets, good-for-nothing
+moons----no, no, no." And his lantern lighted, he departed with Pasotti,
+the impertinent Pedraglio accompanying them as far as the gate of the
+little garden, with his usual fire of antiphones about the bull and the
+servant. Then the little man turned towards the cavernous streets of
+Oria, greatly comforted by Pasotti's exclamations: "Ill-bred people,
+_Scior Zacomo_! Vulgar people!" exclamations uttered in a tone
+calculated to reach the others, and add to their amusement.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A loud gape from the engineer put Signora Peppina to flight. A few
+minutes later, having drunk his cup of milk, Uncle Piero took leave of
+the company in verse--
+
+    Tall laurel trees and myrtle sweet upon Parnassus grow,
+    May night upon you, worthy Sirs, great happiness bestow.
+
+The two guests also asked for a little milk, but Franco, who understood
+their Latin, went for an old bottle of the wine from the small but
+excellent vineyard of Maine.
+
+When he returned Uncle Piero was no longer present. The dark, bearded
+lawyer, the picture of strength and placidity, raised both hands
+silently, summoning Luisa and Franco, one to either side of him. Then he
+said softly, in his voice like a violoncello, warm and deep--
+
+"Great news!"
+
+"Ah!" ejaculated Franco, opening his eager eyes wide. Luisa turned pale,
+and clasped her hands in silence.
+
+"Yes, indeed!" said Pedraglio calmly and seriously, "we have succeeded!"
+
+"Speak out! Speak out!" Franco begged. The lawyer answered him:
+
+"We have Piedmont allied with France and England! To-day war with
+Russia, to-morrow with Austria! Are you satisfied?"
+
+With a sob Franco sprang to embrace his friends.
+
+The three stood clinging to one another in silence, pressing close in
+the intoxication of the magic word: War! Franco forgot that he still
+held the bottle. Luisa took it from him. Then he tore himself
+impetuously from the other two, rushed between them, and seizing each
+round the waist, dragged them into the hall like an avalanche,
+repeating: "Tell all, tell all, tell all!"
+
+There, when they had prudently closed the glass door leading to the
+terrace, the lawyer and Pedraglio disclosed their precious secret. An
+English lady, spending her holiday at Bellagio, who was a devoted friend
+of Italy, had received a letter (of which the lawyer possessed a
+translation) from another lady, a cousin of Sir James Hudson, English
+Minister at Turin. The letter stated that secret negotiations were being
+carried on in Turin, Paris, and London, to obtain the armed co-operation
+of Piedmont in the Orient; that the matter was looked upon as settled by
+the three cabinets, but that there still remained a few formal
+difficulties to arrange, as Count Cavour demanded the greatest
+consideration for the dignity of his country. At Turin they were
+confident the official and open invitation from the Western powers to
+accede to the treaty of the tenth of April, 1851, would come to hand not
+later than December. It was even affirmed that the troops forming the
+contingent would be under the command of the Duke of Genoa.
+
+The lawyer read, and Franco held his wife's hand tight. Then he wanted
+to read the letter himself, and after him Luisa read. "But," said she,
+"war with Austria? How is that?"
+
+"Most certainly," said the lawyer. "Do you suppose Cavour is going to
+send the Duke of Genoa with fifteen or twenty thousand men to fight the
+Turks unless he already holds the war with Austria in his hand? You may
+believe me, Madam, it will come about before a year is passed."
+
+Franco shook his fists in the air, his whole body quivering.
+
+"Hurrah for Cavour!" whispered Luisa.
+
+"Ah!" the lawyer exclaimed, "Demosthenes himself could not have praised
+Cavour with greater efficacy."
+
+Franco's eyes were filling with tears. "I am a fool!" he said. "I don't
+know what to say!"
+
+Pedraglio asked Luisa where the deuce she had hidden the bottle. Luisa
+smiled and went out, returning again immediately with the wine and
+glasses.
+
+"Count Cavour!" said Pedraglio in a low tone. All raised their glasses
+repeating: "Count Cavour!" Then they drank, even Luisa, who never took
+wine.
+
+Pedraglio refilled the glasses and again rose to his feet.
+
+"War!" said he.
+
+The three others sprang up, clutching their glasses in silence, too
+deeply moved to speak.
+
+"We must all go!" said Pedraglio.
+
+"All!" Franco repeated. Luisa kissed him impetuously on the shoulder.
+Her husband seized her head in both hands, and imprinted a kiss upon her
+hair.
+
+One of the windows towards the lake was open. In the silence that
+followed the kiss, they heard the measured dip of oars.
+
+"The customs-guards," whispered Franco. While the guards' long-boat was
+passing beneath the window, Pedraglio said: "D---- hogs!" in such a loud
+tone, that the others hushed him. The long-boat floated past. Franco
+looked out of the window.
+
+It was cool; the moon was sinking towards the hills of Carona, streaking
+the lake with long, gilded stripes. What a strange sensation it gave him
+to contemplate that quiet solitude, with a great war so near at hand!
+The dark, sad mountains seemed to be thinking of the formidable future.
+Franco closed the window, and the conversation began again in low tones
+round the little table. Each one had his own suppositions concerning
+future events, and all spoke of these events as of a drama, of which the
+manuscript was lying quite ready, down to the very last verse, with all
+its stops and commas in place, in Count Cavour's writing-desk. V., who
+was a Bonapartist, saw clearly that Napoleon intended to avenge his
+uncle, overthrowing one after another, the parties to the Holy Alliance;
+to-day Russia, to-morrow Austria. But Franco, on the other hand, who was
+mistrustful of the emperor, attributed the Sardinian alliance to the
+good-will of England, but acknowledged that as soon as this alliance
+would be proclaimed, Austria, sacrificing her own interests to
+principles and hatred, would cast in her lot with Russia, and therefore
+Napoleon would be obliged to fight her. "Listen," said his wife, "I am
+afraid Austria will come over to the side of Piedmont," "Impossible!"
+said the lawyer. Franco felt alarmed, and admired the acuteness of the
+observation, but Pedraglio exclaimed: "Nonsense! Those blockheads are
+too great asses to think out a trick like that!" This argument appeared
+decisive, and no one save Luisa gave the possibility another thought.
+They began discussing plans for the campaign, plans for insurrections,
+but here they could not agree. V. knew the men and the mountains of the
+Lake of Como from Colico to Como and Lecco, better perhaps than any one
+else. And everywhere all along the lake, in Val Menaggio, in Vall
+'Intelvi, in Valsassina, in the Tre Pievi, he knew those who were
+devoted to the cause, and even ready to strike the blow at a sign from
+the _Scior Avocat_. He and Franco considered any insurrectional movement
+useful that might serve to distract part of the Austrian forces even for
+a moment. But Luisa and Pedraglio were of opinion that all the
+able-bodied men should hasten to swell the Piedmontese battalions. "We
+women will make the revolution," said Luisa, with her mock gravity. "I,
+for my part, will pitch Carlascia into the lake!"
+
+They still conversed in an undertone, with an electric current in their
+veins that flashed from their eyes, and made their nerves tingle;
+enjoying this hushed talk behind closed doors and windows, the danger of
+being in possession of that letter, the glowing life they felt in their
+blood, and those intoxicating words they were always repeating:
+Piedmont, War, Cavour, Duke of Genoa, Victor Emmanuel, Cannon,
+_Bersaglieri_.
+
+"Do you know what time it is?" said Pedraglio, consulting his watch. "It
+is half-past twelve! Let us go to bed."
+
+Luisa went for the candles, and lighted them, standing the while, but no
+one moved, so she also sat down again. When he saw the candles lighted,
+even Pedraglio himself lost his desire to go to bed.
+
+"A fine kingdom!" said he.
+
+"Piedmont," said Franco, "Lombardy-Venice, Parma, and Modena."
+
+"And the Legations!"[L] V. added.
+
+More discussions followed. All wished for the
+
+Legations, especially the lawyer and Luisa, but Franco and Pedraglio
+were afraid to touch them, fearing to stir up difficulties. They grew so
+warm that Pedraglio entreated his companions to "scream" in an
+undertone. "Scream softly, children!" Then it was V.'s turn to propose
+going to bed. He took his candle in his hand but did not rise.
+
+"Body of Bacchus!" said he, not knowing whether he meant it as a
+conclusion or an exhortation. Indeed he had a terrible desire to talk,
+and to hear others talk, but could find nothing new to say. "Body of
+Bacchus it is indeed!" Franco exclaimed, who was in much the same state
+of mind. A long silence ensued. At last Pedraglio said, "Well?" and
+rose. "Shall we go?" said Luisa, leading the way. "And the name?" the
+lawyer asked. They all stopped. "What name?" "The name of the new
+Kingdom!" Franco set down his candle at once. "Well done!" said he, "the
+name!" as if it had been a point that must be settled before going to
+bed. Fresh discussions followed. Piedmont? _Cisalpino?_ Upper Italy?
+Italy?
+
+Luisa also was quick to put down her candle, and as the others were not
+willing to accept his "Italy," Pedraglio set his down also. But finding
+the debate promised to be a long one, he resumed it, and ran away,
+repeating: "Italy, Italy, Italy, Italy!" heedless of the "hushes" and
+admonitions of the others, who were following on tiptoe. They all
+stopped once more at the foot of the stairs that Pedraglio and the
+lawyer must ascend to reach their room, and exchanged good-nights. Luisa
+entered the neighbouring alcove-room; Franco waited to watch his friends
+upstairs. "Look here!" he suddenly exclaimed. He had been going to speak
+to them from the foot of the stairs, but finally decided it was better
+to go up to them. "And what if we are defeated?" he whispered.
+
+The lawyer simply uttered a contemptuous "Nonsense!" but Pedraglio
+turning like a hyena, seized Franco by the throat. They struggled gaily
+there on the landing, and then once more said good-night. Pedraglio
+rushed upwards, while Franco flung himself downstairs.
+
+His wife was waiting for him, standing in the centre of the room, her
+eyes fixed on the door. When she saw him enter she moved gravely towards
+him, and folded him in a close embrace. When, after a few moments had
+elapsed, he moved as though to draw away, she silently pressed him
+closer. Then Franco understood. She was embracing him now as she had
+kissed him before, when they had talked of all going to the war. He
+pressed her temples between his hands, kissed her again and again on the
+hair, saying gently: "Dearest, think how great she will be afterwards,
+this Italy!" "Yes, yes!" said she. She raised her face to his, and
+offered him her lips. She was not crying, but her eyes were moist. To
+feel himself gazed upon like this, to be kissed thus, was indeed worth a
+few years of life, for never, never before had her tenderness towards
+him contained this humility.
+
+"Then," said she, "we shall no longer live in Valsolda. You will be
+obliged to assume the duties of a citizen, will you not?"
+
+"Yes, yes, certainly!"
+
+They began to talk eagerly, both he and she, about what they should do
+after the war, as if to banish the thought of a terrible possibility.
+Luisa let down her hair, and went to look at Maria in her little bed.
+The child had probably been roused some time before, and had put a tiny
+finger in her mouth, which, little by little, as sleep returned, had
+slipped out. Now she was sleeping with her mouth open, and the little
+finger resting on her chin. "Come here, Franco," said her mother. Both
+bent over the bed. Maria's small face held the sweetness of paradise.
+
+Husband and wife lingered over her in silence, and then rose, deeply
+moved. The interrupted conversation was not resumed.
+
+When they were in bed and the light put out, Luisa murmured, on her
+husband's lips--
+
+"If that day should come, you will go; but I shall go also."
+
+And she would not allow him to answer.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[L] The Legations were provinces of the Roman state, governed by a
+legate from Rome. The Marches, Romagna and Umbria. [_Translator's
+note._]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE GLOVED HAND
+
+
+To make his joke more complete Pasotti reproached his wife for having
+repeated to Signor Giacomo Don Giuseppe's speech concerning the
+necessity of a marriage. The poor deaf woman was thunderstruck; she knew
+nothing either of a speech or of a marriage, and protested that this was
+a calumny, entreating her husband not to believe it, and was nearly
+beside herself because the Controller still appeared to harbour a
+suspicion. This malicious man was preparing a treat for himself; he was
+going to tell Signor Giacomo and Don Giuseppe that his wife wished to
+make amends for the harm she had done, and bring about a truce; in this
+way he would get all three together at his house, and from behind a door
+would enjoy the delicious scene that must ensue between the wrathful
+Signor Giacomo, the terrified Don Giuseppe, and the deaf and distracted
+Barborin. But his plan failed, for his wife could not wait, and ran off
+to the "Palace" to clear herself.
+
+She found Don Giuseppe and Maria in a state of the most extraordinary
+agitation. Something tremendous had happened to them, something that
+Maria wished to tell, and Don Giuseppe did not. However, the master
+yielded on condition that she should not shout, but should convey her
+news by signs. Meeting with opposition on this point also, he, in his
+prudence, became furious, and the servant did not insist.
+
+A rumour had spread of a case of cholera at Lugano, the victim being a
+man who had come there from Milan, where the disease had broken out; so
+Don Giuseppe had arranged to have all provisions for the kitchen come
+from Porlezza instead of Lugano, and had entrusted the commission to
+Giacomo Panighet, the postman, who brought the letters to Valsolda, not
+three times a day, as at present, but twice a week, as was the
+comfortable custom in the little world of long ago. Now, not five
+minutes before Signora Pasotti's arrival, Giacomo Panighet had brought
+the usual basket, and in the bottom of that basket, beneath the
+cabbages, they had discovered a note addressed to Don Giuseppe. It ran
+as follows:--
+
+
+     "You, who play at primero with Don Franco Maironi, should warn
+     him that the air of Lugano is far better than the air of Oria.
+
+    "TIVANO."
+
+
+
+Maria silently exhibited the basket, which was still full, to Signora
+Pasotti, and by clever acting illustrated the manner of discovery of the
+letter, which she gave her to read.
+
+As soon as the deaf woman had finished reading, a strange, indescribable
+pantomime began between the three. Maria and Don Giuseppe, by dint of
+gesticulations and rollings of their eyes, expressed their surprise and
+terror; Barborin, half frightened, half dazed, stared open-mouthed, from
+one to the other, the letter still in her hand, as if she had
+understood. As a matter of fact she had made out only that the letter
+must be terrible. Presently a thought struck her. She held the letter
+out to Don Giuseppe with her left hand, while with her right forefinger
+she pointed to the word _Franco_; then she crossed her wrists with a
+questioning gesture; and as the others, recognising that the sign meant
+handcuffs, nodded their heads violently in confirmation, she became half
+frenzied, so great was her affection for Luisa, and forgetting the
+matter that had brought her there, she explained by signs, as if both
+the others had been deaf also, that she would go straight to Oria, see
+Don Franco, and give him the letter.
+
+She started to rush away, cramming the letter into her pocket, and with
+hardly a word of leave-taking to Don Giuseppe and Maria, who, greatly
+distressed, were trying in vain to get hold of her, to detain her and
+recommend all possible precautions. But she slipped through their
+fingers, and her great, tall bonnet quivering, her old grey skirt
+dragging, set off at a trot towards Oria, where she arrived quite out of
+breath, with her head full of gendarmes, inspections, scenes of terror
+and of grief.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+She went up the stairs of the little Ribera garden, making straight for
+the hall, where she saw there were visitors. She recognised the Receiver
+and the Imperial and Royal Commissary of Porlezza, and was terrified,
+believing they were come for the terrible blow, but then she perceived
+Signora Bianconi and Signor Giacomo Puttini, and once more breathed
+freely.
+
+The Commissary, seated in the post of honour on the large sofa, next to
+the Engineer-in-Chief, talked a great deal, with much fluency and
+brilliancy, looking oftenest at Franco, as if he were the only person
+present upon whom it was worth while to waste breath and wit. Franco,
+lounging in an armchair, was mute and sullen, like one who, in the house
+of another, perceives a bad odour which good manners forbade him either
+to flee from or curse. They were discussing the Crimean campaign, and
+the Commissary was praising the plan of the allied powers to attack the
+colossus in that vital point, his ambition. He spoke of the Russian
+barbarities, and of the autocrat himself in such terms as to cause
+Franco to tremble in his dread of an Anglo-Franco-Austrian alliance, and
+Carlascia to open his eyes wide, for he still held the views of 1848,
+and looked upon the Czar as a good friend of the family. "And you,
+Signor First-Political-Deputy, what do you think of it?" said the
+Commissary, turning his sarcastic smile upon Signor Giacomo. Puttini
+winked his little eyes very hard, and having felt his knees all over,
+replied: "Most respected Signor Commissary, I know little about Russia,
+France, or England, and I care still less. I let them settle their own
+affairs. But, to speak the truth, I am sorry for that poor dog
+'Papuzza.' He was as quiet as a young chicken until they worried him,
+then when he called for help, fifty rushed to his aid, and now they are
+all upon him, devouring everything they can grab; and whether poor
+'Papuzza' win or lose, he will have nothing left but his shirt."
+
+This nickname "Papuzza,"--a Venetian distortion of _Babbuccia_
+slippers--Signor Giacomo applied to the Turk. "Papuzza" personified
+Turkey in the form of one ideal Turk, with a huge turban, a long beard,
+a big belly, and slippers. Puttini, the peaceful, half free-thinker, had
+a weakness for the lazy, placid, easy-going "Papuzza."
+
+"Don't worry," the Commissary laughed. "Your friend 'Papuzza' will come
+out all right. We are his friends also, and will not allow him to be
+mutilated or bled."
+
+Franco, frowning sternly, could not refrain from grumbling.
+
+"Nevertheless, that would be a great injustice towards Russia."
+
+The Commissary was silent, and Signora Peppina, displaying unusual tact,
+proposed going out to see the flowers.
+
+"A good idea!" said the engineer, who was very glad to have the
+discussion interrupted.
+
+While passing from the hall to the little garden the Commissary took
+Franco's arm familiarly, and whispered in his ear: "You are right, you
+know, about the injustice; but there are certain things we government
+officials may not say." Franco, who was greatly astonished at this
+utterance, felt as if the touch of the Imperial and Royal hand were
+burning him. If this man had had a more Italian face he would have
+believed him, but with that Kalmuc countenance he did not believe him,
+and allowed the subject to drop. But his companion resumed it in a low
+tone, as he leaned over the parapet above the lake, and pretended to
+examine the _ficus repens_ that covered the wall.
+
+"You yourself should avoid certain expressions," said he. "There are
+fools who might place false interpretations upon them." And he gave a
+slight nod in the direction of the Receiver. "Be careful, be careful!"
+"Thank you," Franco replied, dryly, "but I hardly think I shall need to
+be careful." "We can never be sure, never be sure, never be sure!" the
+Commissary murmured, and, followed by Franco, he moved away towards the
+spot where the Receiver and the engineer were discussing the subject of
+tench, near the few steps leading down to the second terrace of the
+little garden.
+
+Close at hand stood the famous red box with the jasmine.
+
+"That red does not look well, Signor Maironi," said the mastiff, _ex
+abrupto_, and he threw up his hand with a gesture that meant, "Away with
+it!" Just then Luisa looked into the garden from the hall, and called
+her husband. The Commissary turned to his zealous acolyte, and said
+sharply, "Drop that!"
+
+Signora Pasotti was leaving, and wished to salute Franco. He would have
+shown her out through the garden, but she, anxious to avoid going
+through so many ceremonies with those other gentlemen, preferred to go
+down by the inside stairs, and Franco escorted her as far as the
+street-door, which stood open. To his great surprise Signora Pasotti,
+instead of passing out, closed the door, and began an excited and
+perfectly unintelligible pantomime, accompanying it with short sighs and
+rollings of the eyes; after this she took a letter from her pocket and
+offered it to him.
+
+Franco read, shrugged his shoulders, and put the letter in his pocket.
+Then as Signora Pasotti kept on recommending flight, flight--Lugano,
+Lugano, in despairing pantomime, he smiled and reassured her by a
+gesture. She once more seized his hands, and once more the lofty bonnet
+(which had a tipsy inclination towards the right), and the long black
+curls, trembled in earnest supplication. She strained her eyes wide,
+pushed out her lips as far as possible, and laid her forefinger against
+her nose to indicate silence. "With Pasotti also!" she said; and these
+were the only words she spoke during the whole interview. Then she
+trotted away.
+
+Franco went upstairs again, thinking about his position. This might be a
+false alarm, just as it might also be a serious matter. But why should
+they arrest him? He tried to remember if he had anything of a
+compromising nature in the house, and could recall nothing. It flashed
+across his mind that his grandmother might have been guilty of some
+perfidy, but he at once banished the thought, reproaching himself, and
+postponed a decision until he should have spoken to his wife.
+
+He returned to the little garden, where the Commissary, as soon as he
+caught sight of him, asked him to point out the dahlias Signora Peppina
+had been praising. Upon learning that they were in the kitchen-garden he
+proposed going there with Franco. They could go alone, for indeed all
+the others were ignorant on the subject of dahlias. Franco accepted.
+
+The conduct of this little police-spy in gloves puzzled him, and he
+sought to discover if it could in any way be connected with the
+mysterious warning.
+
+"Listen, Signor Maironi," the Commissary began resolutely, when Franco
+had closed the gate of the kitchen-garden behind him. "I wish to say a
+word to you."
+
+Franco who was descending the few steps leading from the threshold of
+the gate, stopped with a clouded brow. "Come here," the Commissary added
+imperiously. "What I am about to do is perhaps not in accordance with my
+duty, but I shall do it, notwithstanding. I am too good a friend of the
+Marchesa, your grandmother, not to do it. You are in great danger."
+
+"I?" Franco inquired, coldly. "In danger of what?"
+
+Franco was endowed with a rapid and sure intuition of the thoughts of
+others. The Commissary's words agreed perfectly with the message
+Barborin had brought; still, at that moment he felt that the little
+police-spy harboured treachery in his heart.
+
+"In danger of what? Of Mantua!" was Zerboli's reply.
+
+Franco did not flinch upon hearing the awful word, synonym of
+incarceration and the gibbet.
+
+"I need not fear Mantua," said he. "I have done nothing to deserve
+Mantua."
+
+"Nevertheless----!"
+
+"Of what am I accused?" Franco repeated.
+
+"You will soon find out if you remain here," the Commissary replied,
+laying stress upon the last words. "And now let us examine these
+dahlias."
+
+"I have done nothing!" Franco once more repeated. "I will not leave."
+
+"Let us see these dahlias, let us see these dahlias," the Commissary
+insisted.
+
+Franco felt that he should thank this man, but he could not. He showed
+him his flowers with just that amount of civility that was
+indispensable, and with perfect composure. Then he conducted him from
+the kitchen-garden to the house, talking of some obscure Professor
+Maspero, and of his secret method of combating _oidium_.
+
+In the hall they were discussing another and far worse form of _oidium_.
+Signora Peppina was harassed by a terrible fear of cholera. She
+recognised that cholera served as a warning to every good Christian to
+make his peace with God, and that when we are at peace with God, it is
+indeed a blessing to be called to the next world, "but still, this body
+of ours, you know! This precious body! And when you reflect that we have
+only one!"
+
+"The cholera," said Luisa, "might do no end of good, if it had any
+sense, but it has not. You see," she whispered to Signora Peppina as
+Bianconi rose and went towards the Commissary, who had returned with
+Franco, "the cholera is quite capable of taking you, and leaving your
+husband." At this extraordinary remark the terrified Peppina started
+violently, exclaiming: "_Jesusmaria!_" and then, perceiving she had
+betrayed her true feelings, that she had not exhibited that tenderness
+for Carlascia of which she was always prating, she clutched her
+neighbour's knee, and bending forward, said in an undertone, her face as
+red as a poppy: "Be quiet, be quiet, be quiet!"
+
+But Luisa was no longer thinking of her. A glance from Franco had warned
+her that something had happened.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When all the visitors had departed, Uncle Piero sat down to read the
+_Milan Gazette_, and Luisa said to her husband: "It is three o'clock.
+Let us go and wake Maria."
+
+When he and she were alone in the alcove-room, instead of at once
+opening the shutters, she inquired what had happened. Franco told her
+everything, from Signora Pasotti's letter to the Commissary's strange
+communication.
+
+Luisa listened with a serious face, but without exhibiting any sign of
+fear. Then she examined the mysterious note. Both she and Franco were
+aware that among the government agents at Porlezza there was one honest
+man, who, in 1849 and 1850 had saved several patriots by a timely
+warning. But they were also aware that this honest man was ignorant of
+the rules of orthography and grammar, and the note Barborin had brought
+was perfectly correct. As to the Commissary, it was well known that he
+was one of the most malicious and treacherous of the government's tools.
+Luisa approved of the answer her husband had made him.
+
+Franco himself was well aware of all this, but he could find no
+plausible explanation for this persecution. Luisa, however, had one in
+mind which contempt for the grandmother had suggested to her. This
+Commissary was a good friend of the grandmother's, he himself had said
+so, thereby displaying, so he thought, the refinement of cunning. In the
+Commissary's glove there was the talon of the Marchesa. She meant to
+strike not Franco alone, but all the others as well, and they were to be
+reached through him who maintained the family with the fruit of his
+labours, out of the kindness of his generous heart. She knew from
+speeches which had been repeated to her by the usual hateful gossips,
+that the grandmother hated Uncle Piero because Uncle Piero had made it
+possible for her grandson to rebel against her, and to live comfortably
+enough in rebellion. Now they were seeking for a pretext to strike him.
+The flight of the nephew would be a confession, and, for a government
+like the Austrian, a good pretext to strike the uncle. Luisa did not say
+so at once, but she let him see that she had an idea, and little by
+little, her husband drew it from her. When she had told him, though in
+his heart he believed she was right, he nevertheless protested in words,
+defending his grandmother against an accusation which seemed too
+monstrous, and which rested on so slight a foundation. At all events
+husband and wife agreed perfectly in their resolve not to flee, but to
+await further developments. They therefore wasted no time in making or
+discussing suppositions. Luisa rose and went to open the shutters, and
+standing in the full light, she turned to look smilingly at her husband,
+stretching out her hand to him. He pressed it and shook it, his heart
+aflame, but his tongue speechless. They felt like soldiers, who,
+conscious of the distant roar of cannon, are being led along a quiet
+road, towards what fate God only knows.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE HAND WITHIN THE GLOVE
+
+
+The Engineer-in-Chief noticed nothing, and two days later, the term of
+his leave having expired, he went away peacefully in his boat, wrapped
+in his great, grey travelling cloak, and accompanied by Cia, the
+housekeeper. Ten days passed without further developments, and Franco
+and Luisa concluded that a trap had been set for them, and that, after
+all, the police would not appear. On the evening of the first of October
+they played _tarocchi_ merrily with Puttini and Pasotti, and then, their
+guests having left early, they went to bed. When Luisa kissed the child,
+who was sleeping, she noticed that her flesh was hot. She felt of her
+hands and legs. "Maria is feverish," she said.
+
+Franco took up the candle and looked at her. Maria was sleeping with her
+little head drooping towards her left shoulder as usual. The lovely
+little face which always wore a frown when she was asleep, was slightly
+flushed, and the breathing rather quick. Franco was alarmed, and at once
+thought of scarlet fever, the measles, gastric, and brain fever. Luisa,
+who was more calm, thought of worms, and prepared a dose of santonine,
+which she placed ready on the pedestal. Then both father and mother went
+noiselessly to bed, put out the light and lay listening anxiously to the
+little one's short, quick breathing. At last they dozed, but towards
+midnight they were aroused by Maria, who was crying. They lighted the
+candle and Maria became quiet and took the santonine. Then presently she
+began to cry again, and wanted to be taken into the big bed, between
+mamma and papa, and finally went to sleep there; but her sleep was
+uneasy and often interrupted by sobs.
+
+Franco kept the candle burning that he might watch her more closely. He
+and his wife were bending over their darling when two knocks sounded in
+quick succession on the street-door. Franco started up in bed. "Did you
+hear?" said he. "Hush!" said Luisa, grasping his arm, and listening. Two
+more knocks sounded, louder still, and Franco exclaimed: "The Police!"
+and sprang to the floor. "Go, go!" Luisa begged in a low tone. "Don't
+let them take you! Go by the little courtyard! Climb over the wall!" He
+did not answer, but hastily threw on some clothes and rushed from the
+room, heedless of danger, and determined never of his own free will to
+leave his Luisa and his sick child.
+
+He dashed down the stairs. "Who is there?" he inquired, without opening
+the door. "The Police!" some one answered. "Open at once."
+
+"At this hour I open to no one I do not see."
+
+A short dialogue ensued in the street. The voice he had heard first
+said: "You speak to him," and the voice that spoke next was very
+familiar to Franco.
+
+"Open, Signor Maironi."
+
+It was the Receiver. Franco threw the door open. A gentleman, dressed in
+black and wearing spectacles, entered, and was followed by the mastiff;
+after the mastiff came a gendarme with a lantern, then three other armed
+gendarmes, two of whom were subalterns while the other was of higher
+rank, and carried a large leathern bag. Some one remained outside.
+
+"Are you Signor Maironi?" said the man in spectacles, a police-adjunct,
+or detective from Milan. "Come upstairs with me." And the whole party
+started upstairs, with the thud of heavy steps and the rattling of
+military trappings.
+
+They had not yet reached the first floor when a light fell on the stairs
+from above, and sobs and groans were heard on the second floor.
+
+"Is that your wife?" asked the detective.
+
+"Do you fancy it is?" Franco retorted ironically. The Receiver murmured:
+"It is probably the servant." The detective turned and gave an order;
+two gendarmes started forward and went rapidly up to the second floor.
+More sharply than before the adjunct asked Franco: "Is your wife in
+bed?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Where? She must get up."
+
+The door of the alcove-room was thrown open, and Luisa appeared in her
+dressing-gown, with flowing hair, and bearing a candle in her hand. At
+the same moment a gendarme leaned over the banisters on the upper floor,
+and said that the servant had nearly fainted away, and could not come
+down. The detective ordered him to leave his companion with the woman,
+and to descend. Then he saluted the lady, who did not reply. In the hope
+that Franco had fled, she had hastened to leave the room in order to
+detain and, if possible, deceive the police. She now saw her husband and
+shuddered, her heart beating wildly, but she composed herself at once.
+
+The detective stepped forward to enter the room. "No!" Franco exclaimed.
+"Some one is ill in there." Luisa clutched the handle of the closed
+door, looking the man straight in the face.
+
+"Who is ill?" asked the detective.
+
+"A little girl."
+
+"Well, what harm do you suppose we shall do her?"
+
+"Pardon me," said Luisa almost defiantly, and giving the handle a
+nervous shake, "must you all go in?"
+
+"All of us."
+
+At the sound of voices and the rattling of the door-handle little Maria
+had begun to cry in a weary and forlorn voice that was heart-rending.
+
+"Luisa," said Franco, "let these _gentlemen_ do their work."
+
+The detective was a fashionably-dressed young man, with a refined but
+cruel face. He threw Franco a sinister glance. "Obey your husband,
+Signora," said he, glad of an opportunity to retaliate. "I think he is
+prudent."
+
+"Less prudent than you are, who bring a whole army as escort," Luisa
+retorted, opening the door. He glanced at her, shrugged his shoulders,
+and passed in, followed by the others.
+
+"Open everything here," said he roughly, in a loud voice, pointing to
+the writing-desk. Franco's big, blue eyes flashed. "Speak softly!" said
+he. "Do not frighten my child."
+
+"Silence, you!" the detective thundered, bringing his fist down upon the
+desk. "Open!"
+
+At that noise the child began to sob violently. Franco, who was furious,
+flung the key upon the desk.
+
+"Open it yourself," said he.
+
+"You are under arrest!" cried the detective.
+
+"Very well."
+
+While Franco was answering thus, Luisa, who had bent low over her baby,
+trying to pacify her, raised her face impetuously.
+
+"I also have a right to that honour," said she, in her fine, ringing
+voice.
+
+The detective did not deign to reply, but ordered a gendarme to open all
+the drawers of the writing-desk, and he himself searched them, removing
+all the letters, examining them rapidly, throwing some on the floor,
+and tossing others into the great leathern bag. After the writing-desk
+it was the turn of the chests of drawers, where everything was turned
+upside down. Then Maria's little bed was inspected. The detective
+ordered Luisa to remove the child from the big bed, which he also
+intended to examine.
+
+"Then put the little bed in order for me," Luisa replied, quivering with
+rage. Up to this moment, the mastiff, Carlascia, had stood silent and
+stiff behind his moustaches, as if this operation, which he had perhaps
+desired in the abstract, were proving not entirely to his taste, now
+that it was being put into practice. He came forward and began arranging
+the mattresses and sheets of the little bed with his great ugly paws.
+Luisa placed the child in it, and then the large bed was torn to pieces
+and examined, but without any result. Maria had stopped crying, and was
+staring at the scene of confusion with wide eyes.
+
+"Now follow me, both of you," said the adjunct. Luisa, who believed she
+was to be led away with her husband, demanded that the servant be
+summoned, that she might give the child into her care. At the idea that
+Luisa was under arrest, that the sick child was to be deprived of her
+mother also, Franco, beside himself with rage and grief, uttered a
+protesting cry--
+
+"This is not possible! Say it is not so!"
+
+The detective did not vouchsafe a reply, but ordered that the servant
+be brought in. The maid, half dead with fright, entered between two
+gendarmes, groaning and sobbing.
+
+"Fool!" Franco muttered between his teeth.
+
+"The woman will stay here with the child," said the adjunct. "Both of
+you will come with me. You must be present when the rest of the house is
+searched." He sent for some lights, left a gendarme in the alcove-room,
+and went into the hall, followed by the other gendarmes, Bianconi,
+Franco, and Luisa.
+
+"Before continuing the search," said he, "I will ask you a question I
+should have asked before had your conduct been more correct. Tell me
+whether you have any weapons, or seditious publications, or papers
+either printed or in manuscript, which are hostile to the Imperial and
+Royal Government."
+
+Franco answered, in a loud tone--
+
+"No."
+
+"That is what we shall see," said the detective.
+
+"Do as you like."
+
+While the adjunct was causing furniture to be moved away from the wall,
+and was searching and peering everywhere, Luisa remembered that eight or
+ten years before her uncle had shown her in the chest of drawers of a
+room on the second floor, an old sabre that had lain there ever since
+1812. It had belonged to another Pietro Ribera, a lieutenant of cavalry,
+who had fallen at Malojaroslavetz. No one ever slept in that room above
+the kitchen and it was seldom entered; it was as if it did not exist.
+Luisa had completely forgotten the old sabre of the Empire. Oh, God! now
+she recalled it! What if her uncle had forgotten it also? What if he had
+not given it up in 1848, after the war, when orders had been issued to
+deliver up all weapons, under pain of death? Had her uncle grasped the
+fact, in his patriarchal simplicity, that this heir-loom that had lain
+for six-and-thirty years at the bottom of a drawer, had now become a
+dangerous and forbidden object? And Franco, Franco who knew nothing!
+Luisa was resting her hands on the back of a chair; it creaked sharply
+under her convulsive pressure. She withdrew her hands, frightened, as if
+the chair had spoken.
+
+In fancy she saw the adjunct pass from room to room with his gendarmes,
+and arrive at that door, open the drawer, and discover the sabre. She
+made every effort to recall the exact position in which she had seen it,
+to find some way out of this danger; and she was silent, mechanically
+following with her eyes the candle which a gendarme, in obedience to his
+chief's gestures, held close, now to an open drawer or cupboard, now to
+a picture which the detective had lifted, that he might look behind it.
+No, she could think of no remedy. If her uncle had failed to remove the
+sabre, she could only trust they would not visit that room.
+
+Franco, leaning against the stove, was following every motion of the
+searchers with a clouded brow. When they plunged their hands into the
+drawers, his rage was visible in the silent working of his jaws. Nothing
+was heard save, now and then, a sharp order from the detective, and a
+low-toned reply from the gendarmes. Nothing moved around them, save
+their great shadows wavering on the walls. The silence of the Receiver,
+of Franco and Luisa, was like the silence of those who have risked great
+sums in a secret gaming-house, and stand about the players who, from
+time to time, speak some brief word. The sinister face and voice of the
+detective never changed, although he had not discovered anything. To
+Luisa he seemed a man sure of achieving his purpose. And not to be able
+to do anything, not even warn Franco! But perhaps it was better he did
+not know; perhaps his ignorance would save him.
+
+Having searched the hall and the loggia the detective entered the salon.
+He took the candle from the gendarme's hands and swiftly examined the
+little, illustrious men.
+
+Seeing the portraits of Gouvion Saint-Cyr, Marmont, and other generals
+of Napoleon, he said: "The Engineer-in-Chief Ribera would have done far
+better to hang the portrait of His Excellency Field-Marshal Radetzky on
+his walls. Is it here?"
+
+"No," said Franco.
+
+"A nice government official!" said the other contemptuously, and with
+indescribable arrogance.
+
+"Are government officials bound," Franco burst forth, "to hang the
+portraits----"
+
+"I am not here to argue with you," the detective said, interrupting him.
+
+Franco was about to answer. "Be quiet, you with your tongue a yard
+long!" said the Receiver, brutally.
+
+The detective passed from the drawing-room into the corridor leading to
+the stairs. Would he go up or not, Luisa wondered. He went up, and she
+followed him, not trembling, but imagining with a dizzy rapidity, the
+many different things that might happen. All the possibilities of the
+moment, both disastrous and favourable, were whirling, as it were, in
+her head. If she lingered upon the first, horror carried her with a
+bound to the second; if she dwelt upon these, fancy returned with
+perverse eagerness to the first.
+
+Before they had set foot in the corridor of the second floor they heard
+Maria crying. Franco begged the adjunct to allow his wife to go down to
+the child, but she protested that she wished to remain. The idea of not
+being with him when the weapon was discovered, terrified her. Meanwhile
+the detective had entered a small room where there were some books, and
+finding a volume printed at Capolago, and bearing the title, Literary
+Writings of a Living Italian, he said: "Who is this living Italian?"
+"Padre Cesari," Franco replied boldly. The other, deceived by his
+prompt answer and the priestly name, assumed the air of a man of
+culture, saying: "Ah! I am acquainted with his works." Replacing the
+book, he inquired where the Engineer-in-Chief slept.
+
+Luisa was too completely dominated by the one great dread to sense
+anything else, but Franco, when he saw the police-agent and his band
+enter the uncle's room, which was so clean, so neat, so full of his
+dear, calm spirit, when he reflected what a blow to the poor old man the
+news of all this would be, was completely overcome, and could have wept
+with rage. "It seems to me," he said, "that this one room at least
+should be respected."
+
+"Keep your observations to yourself," the adjunct retorted, and began by
+ordering the blankets and mattresses stripped from the bed. Then he
+demanded the key to the chest of drawers. Franco had it, and went down
+to his room for it, accompanied by a gendarme. The uncle had entrusted
+it to him before leaving, telling him that in case of need he would find
+a small amount of _cum quibus_ in the top drawer. They opened it. It
+contained a roll of _svanziche_, a few letters and papers, some
+pocket-books, old note-books, compasses, pencils, and a small wooden
+bowl in which were several coins.
+
+The detective examined everything carefully, discovering among the coins
+in the little bowl a five-franc piece of the time of Carlo Alberto, and
+a forty-franc piece of the Provisory Government of Lombardy. "The
+Engineer-in-Chief has preserved these coins with extraordinary care,"
+said the detective; "henceforth we will preserve them." He closed the
+drawer, and, without opening the others, returned the key to Franco.
+
+Then he went out into the corridor and paused, undecided. The Receiver
+thought he intended to go down, and as the corridor was nearly dark, and
+the stairs were not visible, he, who was acquainted with the house,
+started towards the right in the direction of the stairs, saying: "This
+way." The room where the sabre lay was on the left.
+
+"Wait," said the adjunct. "Let us look in here, also." And turning, he
+pushed open the fatal door. Luisa, who had been the last in the
+procession, pressed forward, now that the supreme moment had arrived.
+Her heart, which had beat furiously while the adjunct hesitated, now
+became quiet as by a miracle, and she was cool, daring, and ready.
+
+"Who sleeps here?" the detective asked her.
+
+"No one. My uncle's parents used to occupy this room, but they have been
+dead these forty years, and no one has slept here since."
+
+The room contained two beds, a sofa, and a chest of drawers. This the
+detective signed to the gendarmes to open. They tried it, but it was
+locked. "I think I have the key," said Luisa with the utmost
+indifference. She went down, accompanied by a gendarme, and returned
+immediately with a little basket of keys which she offered to the
+detective.
+
+"I do not know the key," she said. "It is never used. It must be one of
+these."
+
+He tried them all, but in vain. Then the Receiver tried, and then
+Franco. The right one was not there.
+
+"Send to S. Mamette for the lock-smith," said Luisa, calmly. The
+Receiver looked at the detective as if to say: "It seems to me
+unnecessary," but the detective turned his back upon him and exclaimed
+to Luisa: "This key must be somewhere!"
+
+The chest of drawers, a piece of _rococo_ furniture, had metal handles
+to each drawer. One of the gendarmes, the strongest, tried to force the
+drawers open. He did not succeed either with the top one or with the
+second. Just at that moment Luisa remembered that she had seen the sabre
+in the third drawer, together with a roll of drawings. The gendarme
+seized the handles of the third. "This one is not locked," said he. In
+fact it opened easily. The detective took the light and bent over to
+examine it.
+
+Franco had seated himself on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the rafters of
+the ceiling. When his wife saw the drawer pulled open she sank down
+beside him, took his hand, and pressed it spasmodically.
+
+She heard some papers rustle, and the Receiver murmured, in a benign
+voice: "Drawings." Then the detective exclaimed: "Ah!" and the
+satellites all leaned forward to see. She had the strength to rise and
+inquire; "What is it?" The detective was holding a long pasteboard case,
+curved and slim, and bearing a label with an inscription. He had already
+read the inscription to himself; he now read it aloud with an accent of
+ineffable sarcasm and satisfaction. "The sabre of Lieutenant Pietro
+Ribera, killed at Malojaroslavetz in 1812." Franco started to his feet,
+astounded and incredulous, and at the same moment the adjunct opened the
+case. From where he stood Franco could not see it, and he glanced at his
+wife, who could. Her lips were white and he thought it was with fright,
+although this did not seem possible.
+
+But her lips were white with joy, for the case contained only an empty
+scabbard. Luisa suddenly drew back into the shadow and sank upon the
+sofa, struggling with a violent inward trembling, vexed with herself and
+ashamed of her weakness, which however, she soon conquered. Meanwhile
+the detective, who had removed the scabbard and examined it on all
+sides, asked Franco where the sabre was. Franco was about to answer that
+he did not know, which was perfectly true, but reflecting that this
+might seem like self-justification, he said--
+
+"In Russia."
+
+The sabre was not in Russia, but fast in the mud, at the bottom of the
+lake, where Uncle Piero had secretly flung it rather than give it up.
+
+"But why did they write sabre?" inquired the Receiver, wishing to show
+he also was zealous.
+
+"The writer is dead," said Franco.
+
+"Hand over that key at once!" the detective scolded angrily. And this
+time Luisa found it, and the two other drawers were opened. One was
+empty, the other contained some blankets and a little lavender.
+
+The search ended here. The adjunct went down to the drawing-room, and
+ordered Franco to make ready to follow him in fifteen minutes. "You had
+better arrest all of us then!" Luisa exclaimed.
+
+The man shrugged his shoulders, and repeated to Franco: "In fifteen
+minutes. You may go to your room, now, if you wish to." Franco dragged
+Luisa away entreating her to be silent, to resign herself for love of
+Maria. He seemed like another man, exhibiting neither grief nor anger,
+and there was in his voice a ring of serious sweetness, of manly calm.
+
+He put some linen into a bag, together with a volume of Dante and an
+_Almanach du Jardinier_, which were on the table, bent over Maria for a
+moment but did not kiss her, for she had gone to sleep, and he feared to
+wake her. He kissed Luisa, however, but as they were being observed by
+the gendarmes stationed at either door of the room, he quickly freed
+himself from her embrace, saying, in French, that they must not provide
+a spectacle for those gentlemen. Then he took up his bag, and went to
+place himself at the detective's orders.
+
+The police-adjunct had a boat waiting not fifty paces from Casa Ribera,
+towards Albogasio, at the landing called _del Canevaa_. Upon issuing
+from the portico spanned by his house, Franco heard a shutter being
+thrown open above his head, and saw the light from his bedroom flash
+against the white facade of the church. He turned towards the window,
+saying--
+
+"Send for the doctor to-morrow morning. Good-bye."
+
+Luisa did not answer.
+
+When the gendarmes reached the Canevaa with their prisoner, the adjunct
+ordered them to stop.
+
+"Signor Maironi," said he, "you have had your lesson. This time you may
+return to your home, and I advise you to learn to respect the
+Authorities."
+
+Amazement, joy, and indignation welled up in Franco's heart. He
+controlled himself, however, biting his lips, and started homewards at a
+leisurely pace. He had not yet turned the corner of the church when
+Luisa recognised his step, and called, "Franco!"
+
+He sprang forward, and she saw him. Then her shadow vanished from the
+window. He rushed into the house, flung himself up the stairs, crying,
+"Free! Free!" while his wife came flying down, exclaiming wildly, "How!
+How! How!" They sought each other with eager arms, clung together,
+pressing close, without further speech.
+
+But afterwards, in the loggia, they talked incessantly for two hours, of
+all they had heard, seen, and experienced, always coming back to the
+sabre, the papers, the coins, dwelling upon many trifling details, on
+the detective's Venetian accent, on the dark-haired gendarme, who seemed
+a good fellow, and the fair-haired gendarme, who must be a regular cur.
+From time to time they would cease speaking, enjoying in silence their
+sense of security, the sweetness of home, but presently they would begin
+again. Before going to bed they stepped out on the terrace. The night
+was dark and warm, the lake motionless. The sultriness, the gloom, the
+vague and monstrous shapes of the mountains, seemed to their imagination
+heavy with the mortal weight of Austria. The very air itself seemed full
+of it. Neither Franco nor Luisa was sleepy, but they must go to bed on
+account of the servant who was watching with Maria. They entered the
+room on tiptoe. The child was sleeping, her breathing almost normal.
+
+They also tried to sleep, but could not. They could not refrain from
+talking, especially Franco. He would ask softly: "Are you asleep?" and
+upon her answering, "No," the coins, the papers, the sabre, or the bully
+with his Venetian accent would be discussed once more. By this time
+there was nothing new to be said on these subjects, and, as Maria began
+to be restless, and to show signs of waking, towards dawn, Luisa
+answered, "Yes," the next time Franco inquired softly, "Are you asleep?"
+and after that he kept quiet, as if he really believed it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The day after the search at Casa Ribera, Oria, Albogasio, and S. Mamette
+were full of whisperings. "Have you heard?--Oh, dear Lord!--Have you
+heard?--Oh, holy Madonna!" But the loudest whisperings were of course
+those that communicated the news to Barborin Pasotti. Her husband
+shouted into her face: "Maironi! Police! Gendarmes! Arrest!" The poor
+woman concluded an army had swept her friends away, and began to
+puff--"oh! oh!"--like an engine. Then she groaned and wept, and
+questioned Pasotti about the child. Pasotti, who was determined not to
+allow her to go down to Oria and exhibit her affection for the Maironis
+under these circumstances, replied with a gesture like the sweep of a
+broom. Gone! Gone! She also!--But the servant? The servant must surely
+be there still. The crafty man made another sweeping gesture in the air,
+and then Barborin grasped the fact that His Imperial and Royal Austrian
+Majesty had had the servant carried off as well.
+
+But the most malicious whisperings were uttered at a great distance from
+Valsolda, in a room in the Maironi Palace, at Brescia. Ten days after
+the search the Chevalier Greisberg di S. Giustina, a cousin of the
+Maironis, who had been attached to the government of Field-Marshal
+Radetzky in Verona until 1853, and had then accompanied his master to
+Milan, alighted at the door of Casa Maironi from the carriage of the
+Imperial and Royal Delegate of Brescia, whose guest he had been for some
+days. The Chevalier, a handsome man of about forty, perfumed, and
+smartly dressed, did not look particularly happy as he stood very erect
+in the centre of the reception room, examining the ancient stucco-work
+of the ceiling, and waiting for the Marchesa, who was of the same
+period. Nevertheless, when the door opposite him, pushed open by a
+servant's hand, admitted Madam's big person, marble countenance, and
+black wig, the Chevalier was at once transformed, and kissed the old
+lady's wrinkled hand with fervour. A Lombard gentlewoman devoted to
+Austria was a rare animal, and extremely precious to the Imperial and
+Royal government. Every loyal functionary owed her the most obsequious
+gallantry. The Marchesa received the homage of her cousin the Chevalier
+with her usual unruffled dignity, and having invited him to be seated,
+enquired after his family and thanked him for his call, all in the same
+guttural and sleepy tone. Finally, slightly out of breath from the
+fatigue of uttering so many words, she crossed her hands over her
+stomach, and let it be seen that she was now waiting for what her cousin
+might have to say.
+
+She expected he would speak about Engineer Ribera and the search. She
+had on previous occasions expressed to him her displeasure that Franco
+should be under the influence of his wife and Ribera, and her surprise
+that the government should retain in its service one who in 1848 had
+openly played the Liberal, and whose family--especially that artful
+young woman--professed the most impudent Liberalism. The Chevalier
+Greisberg had assured her that her wise observations should be given due
+consideration. Then the Marchesa had instigated the Commissary Zerboli
+against the poor Engineer-in-Chief, and it had been through Zerboli that
+she had heard of the search. Therefore, when Greisberg appeared she
+concluded he had come to speak of that. Now, she was quite willing to
+make the government serve her own private rancour, but, as a matter of
+principle, she never recognised a debt of gratitude toward any one. By
+thus subjecting a doubtful functionary to examination, the Austrian
+government had been working in its own interests. She had not asked for
+anything; it was not for her to ask, it was for the Chevalier to speak
+first. But the Chevalier, cunning, sly, and proud, did not understand
+his role in this way. The old woman wanted a favour, and in order to
+obtain it she must bow down and kiss the beneficent claws of government.
+
+He remained silent for some time, to collect his thoughts, and in the
+hope that the other would yield. Seeing that she remained mute and
+unbending, he himself became suddenly smiling and gracious, told her
+that he had come from Verona, and proposed that she guess what route he
+had taken. He had passed through such a sweet town, had seen such a
+charming villa, so splendid, a real paradise! The Marchesa was not good
+at guessing; she asked if he had been in Brianza. No, he had not come
+from Verona to Brescia by way of Brianza. He once more described the
+villa, and this time so minutely that the Marchesa could not help
+recognising her own estate of Monzambano. Then the Chevalier proposed
+that she guess why he had gone to see the villa. She guessed at once,
+guessed the whole plot of the comedy that was being acted for her
+benefit, but her dull face said nothing of this. The Delegate had once
+before sounded her to ascertain if she would be willing to let the villa
+to His Excellency the Marshal, but she--having been secretly threatened
+with fire and death by the Liberals of Brescia--had found some polite
+excuses. She now perceived in Greisberg's words the tacit offer of a
+bargain, and stood on her guard. She confessed to her cousin that she
+was unable to guess even this. Indeed she felt she was growing more and
+more stupid every day. The effect of years and grief! "I have had a
+great grief very lately," she said. "I am told that the Police have
+searched my grandson's house at Oria."
+
+Greisberg, feeling that this elderly hypocrite was slipping through his
+fingers, now pulled off his glove, and seized her with his talons.
+"Marchesa," said he, in a tone which admitted of no rejoinder, "you must
+not speak of grief! Through the Commissary of Porlezza and myself, you
+have furnished precious information to the government, of which service
+it is not unmindful. Not a hair of your grandson's head was touched, nor
+will be, if he is judicious. But, on the other hand, I regret that we
+may perhaps not be able to adopt severe measures against another person
+who has injured you seriously in private matters. In order to find a
+means of reaching this person the Commissary has even exceeded his duty.
+You must understand once for all, Marchesa, that this is not a question
+of grief, and that you are especially indebted to the government." The
+Marchesa had never before been spoken to in such strong language and
+with such formidable authority. Perhaps the continuous, undulating
+movement of neck and head visible above her stiffly-held body,
+corresponded with the angry beating of her heart, but it seemed the
+movement of some animal struggling to swallow an enormous mouthful. At
+any rate she did not unbend sufficiently to speak a word of
+acquiescence. Only, having regained her obese calm, she observed that
+she had never demanded that measures be adopted against any one; that
+she was glad the search had revealed nothing incriminating against
+Engineer Ribera; that, nevertheless, all sorts of things had been said
+in Casa Ribera, but that words were difficult to trace. The Chevalier
+replied more gently, that he could not say whether anything had been
+discovered, and that the last word would be spoken by the Marshal
+himself, who intended to give this matter his personal attention. This
+remark enabled him to return to the subject of the villa at Monzambano.
+He asked for it formally for His Excellency, who wished to go there
+within a week. The Marchesa thanked him for the great honour, which she
+said, her villa did not deserve; it seemed to her too dilapidated, it
+wanted repairing, and His Excellency must be informed of this. She
+wished to defer her decision, to await the payment of the miserable
+price of her condescension, but the Chevalier struck another blow with
+his talons, and declared she must answer at once, answer clearly, yes or
+no, and the old lady was forced to bow her head. "To accommodate His
+Excellency," she said. Greisberg at once became amiable again, and
+jested about the measures to be adopted against that _Signor Ingegnere_.
+There was no question of spilling blood, only a little ink need be
+spilled. There was no question of depriving any one of liberty, rather
+of conferring perfect liberty on somebody. The Marchesa made no sign.
+She sent for two lemonades, and drank hers slowly in little sips, not
+without a faint expression of satisfaction between the sips, as if this
+lemonade had a new and exquisite flavour. But the Chevalier wished for
+an explicit word from her concerning Ribera, a confession of her
+desire, and placing the glass he had hastily drained upon the tray, he
+said, "I will see to this myself, you know, and we shall succeed. Are
+you satisfied?"
+
+The Marchesa continued to sip the lemonade slowly, slowly, gazing into
+the glass.
+
+"Does that suit you?" her cousin asked, having waited in vain for an
+answer.
+
+"Yes, it is very good," the drowsy voice replied. "I drink it slowly on
+account of my teeth."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The last whisperings were not human. Luisa and Franco were seated on the
+grass at Looch, near the cemetery. They were speaking of the mother's
+great and exquisite goodness, and comparing it to Uncle Piero's great
+and simple goodness, noting the similarity and the differences. They did
+not say which sort of goodness, taken as a whole, seemed to them
+superior, but from the opinions each expressed, their different
+inclinations could be divined. Franco preferred that goodness which is
+permeated with faith in the supernatural, while Luisa preferred the
+other form of goodness. He was grieved by this secret contradiction, but
+hesitated to reveal it, fearing to sound a too painful note. But it had
+brought a cloud to his brow, and presently he said, almost
+involuntarily: "How many misfortunes, how much bitterness your mother
+suffered, with such great resignation, such strength, such peace! Do you
+believe that natural goodness alone would be able to suffer thus?" "I
+do not know," Luisa replied. "I think poor Mamma must have lived in a
+better world before she was born into this, for her heart was always
+there." She did not say all she thought. She thought that if all the
+good souls on earth resembled her mother in religious meekness, this
+world would become the kingdom of the rascal and the tyrant. And as to
+ills, which do not come from man, but from the very conditions of human
+life itself, she felt greater admiration for such as strive against them
+with their own strength, than for such as invoke and obtain aid from
+that same Being by whom the blow was dealt. She would not confess these
+sentiments to her husband, but instead, expressed the hope that her
+uncle might never suffer deep affliction. Could it be possible that the
+Lord would wish such a man to suffer? "No, no, no!" Franco exclaimed; at
+another moment he would not perhaps have dared to admonish God in this
+manner. A breath of the _Boglia_ swept down the ravine of Muzai, and
+rustled the top branches of the walnut-trees. To Luisa that fluttering
+seemed connected with Franco's last words; it seemed to her that the
+wind and the great trees knew something of the future, and were
+whispering about it together.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE SECRET OF THE WIND AND THE WALNUT-TREES
+
+
+Maria's fever lasted only eight days; nevertheless, when she left her
+bed, her parents found her more changed in face and in mind than if the
+eight days had been eight months. Her eyes had grown darker, and had
+assumed a peculiar expression of calm and precocious maturity. She spoke
+more distinctly and rapidly, but to those who were not to her liking,
+she would not speak at all, would not even greet them. This was more
+displeasing to Franco than to Luisa. Franco wished her to be amiable,
+but Luisa feared to spoil her sincerity. For her mother Maria cherished
+an affection violent rather than demonstrative, a jealous, almost fierce
+affection. She was very fond of her father also, but it was evident that
+she felt he was unlike herself. Franco had passionate outbursts of
+affection for her, when he would catch her up unexpectedly, press her
+close, and cover her with kisses. At such moments she would throw her
+head back, plant one little hand upon her father's face, and look
+frowningly at him, as if something in him were strange and repugnant to
+her. Often Franco would scold her angrily, and Maria would cry and stare
+at him through her tears, motionless, and as if fascinated, and always
+wearing the expression of one who does not understand. He noticed the
+child's predilection for her mother, and this was pleasing to him, for
+it seemed a just preference, and he never doubted that later Maria would
+love him tenderly also. Luisa, loving her husband as she did, was much
+troubled that the child should exhibit greater affection for herself;
+however this sentiment of hers was less lively, less pure, than Franco's
+generous pleasure. It seemed to Luisa that, after all, in spite of his
+transports, Franco loved his daughter as a being distinct from himself,
+while she, who had no transports of external tenderness, loved the child
+as a vital part of herself. Moreover she cherished in her heart a future
+Maria probably very different from the one Franco cherished. For this
+reason also she could not regret her moral ascendency over her daughter.
+She foresaw the danger that Franco might favour an exaggerated
+development of the child's religious sentiment, and this, to her, was a
+very serious danger, for in Maria, full of curiosity, eager for stories,
+there were the germs of a very lively imagination, which would be most
+favourable to religious fancies, and a badly balanced moral sense might
+be the result. It was not a question of abolishing religious sentiment;
+this Luisa, out of respect for Franco, if for no other reason, would
+never have sought to do, but it was imperative that Maria, on reaching
+womanhood, should be able to find the pivot of her own existence in her
+own sure and vigorous moral sense, a moral sense not founded upon
+beliefs which, after all, were simply hypotheses and opinions, and
+which, sooner or later, might fail her. The preservation of faith in
+Justice and in Truth, setting aside all other faith, all hope, all fear,
+seemed to her the most sublime condition of the human conscience. She
+believed that because she went to Mass, and twice a year to the
+sacraments, she had renounced such perfection for herself, and she
+intended to renounce it for Maria also, but as one who, finding himself
+hampered by wife and children, must renounce Christian perfection, but
+who does so unwillingly, and in as slight a degree as possible.
+
+Fate might bestow riches upon Maria. Therefore they must carefully
+provide against her acceptance of a life of frivolity, compensated for
+by the giving of alms, the Mass in the morning, and the rosary at night.
+On several occasions Luisa had attempted to sound Franco upon the
+question of giving Maria's education a moral direction quite apart from
+the religious direction, but such attempts had never been accompanied by
+satisfactory results. Franco could understand an unbelief in religion,
+but it was quite incomprehensible to him that there were those who found
+religion insufficient as a rule of life. He had never for a moment
+believed that all should aspire to saintliness, or that those who love
+_tarocchi_, primero, hunting, fishing, nice little dinners and a bottle
+of fine wine, are not good Christians. And this moral direction in
+education as divided from the religious direction seemed to him a mere
+notion, because, to his thinking, all honest men who did not believe,
+were honest either by nature or from habit, and not from any moral or
+philosophical reasoning. So it was not possible for Luisa to come to an
+understanding with her husband on this delicate point. She must act
+alone and very cautiously, in order neither to offend nor to grieve him.
+When Franco pointed out to the child the stars and the moon, the flowers
+and the butterflies, as admirable works of God, using poetically
+religious language fit for a child of twelve, Luisa held her peace; but
+if, on the contrary, he chanced to say to Maria: "Mind, God does not
+wish you to do that!" Luisa would immediately add: "That is wicked! You
+must never do what is wicked!" In such cases some dissension must
+inevitably arise between the parents, for the moral judgment of one was
+not always in harmony with the moral judgment of the other. Once they
+were standing together at the window of the hall, while Maria played
+with a little girl of about her own age from Oria. A brother of the
+child passed, a tyrant of eight, and ordered his little sister to follow
+him. She refused and wept. But Maria, looking very grave, faced the
+tyrant with clenched fists. Franco restrained her by a sharp command;
+the little one turned and looked at him, and then burst into tears,
+while the tyrant dragged his victim away. Luisa left the window, saying
+in an undertone to her husband: "Excuse me, but that was not just." "Why
+was it not just?" said Franco, and he became heated and raised his
+voice, demanding whether his wife wished Maria to grow up pugilistic and
+violent. She answered gently and firmly, overlooking some sharp words of
+his, and maintaining that Maria's impulse had been good; that our first
+duty is to withstand tyranny and injustice; and that, though the child
+use his fists, the man would use more civilised weapons; but if the
+natural impulse of the soul be repressed in the child, there was danger
+of destroying the nascent sense of justice as well.
+
+Franco would not be convinced. According to him it was very doubtful
+whether Maria had harboured any such heroic sentiments. She had simply
+been angry because she was to be deprived of her playmate, that was all.
+Besides, was it not a woman's place to oppose gentle meekness to
+injustice and tyranny, to appease and correct the offender, rather than
+repulse the offence by force? Luisa flushed crimson, and replied that
+this role might suit some women, perhaps the best of women, but it would
+certainly not suit all, for not all were so meek and humble.
+
+"And you are of that number?"
+
+"I believe so."
+
+"A fine thing to boast of!"
+
+"Does it grieve you very much?"
+
+"Very much indeed."
+
+Luisa placed her hands on his shoulders. "Does it grieve you very much,"
+said she, "that I rebel as you yourself do against the presence of these
+masters in our house; that I desire as you yourself do, to help, even
+with my hands, in driving them out? Or would you prefer to see me
+attempt to correct Radetzky and appease the Croatians?"
+
+"That is a different thing."
+
+"In what way? No, it is the same thing."
+
+"It is a different thing!" Franco repeated, but he was unable to
+demonstrate this. He felt he was wrong according to superficial
+ratiocination, and right according to a profound truth which he was
+unable to grasp. He said no more but was thoughtful all day, and was
+evidently seeking for an answer. He thought about it in the night also,
+and finally, believing he had found an answer, called to his wife, who
+was asleep.
+
+"Luisa!" said he. "Luisa, that is a different thing."
+
+"What is the matter?" Luisa exclaimed, waking with a start.
+
+He had reflected that the offence of a foreign dominion was not personal
+like a private offence, and was always the result of a violation of a
+principle of universal justice. But while he was explaining this to his
+wife it struck him that in private offences also there was always the
+violation of a principle of universal justice, and he fancied he must
+have blundered.
+
+"Nothing," said he.
+
+His wife thought he was dreaming, and placing her head upon his
+shoulder, she went to sleep again. If any argument could convert Franco
+to his wife's ideas it was this sweet contact, this gentle breathing
+upon his breast, in which he had so often and so deliciously felt the
+blending of their two souls. But now it was not so. Through his brain
+the thought flashed suddenly like a quick and cold blade, that this
+latent antagonism between his wife's views and his own might one day
+burst forth in some painful form, and, terrified, he pressed her in his
+arms, as if to defend both himself and her against the phantoms of his
+own brain.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After breakfast, on the sixth of November Franco took his great
+gardening-shears and proceeded as usual, to the extermination of all dry
+leaves and branches on the terrace and in the little garden. The great
+beauty and deep peace of the hour went to the heart. Not a leaf stirred;
+the air from the west was most pure and crystalline; on the east the
+hills between Osteno and Porlezza were fading against a background of
+light mist; the house was glorious with the sun and the tremulous
+reflections from the lake; but though the sun was still very hot, the
+chrysanthemums in the little garden, the olives and laurels along the
+coast--more plainly visible now among the reddening, falling leaves--a
+certain secret freshness in the air, scented with _olea fragrans_, the
+absence of all wind, the vaporous mountains of the Lake of Como, white
+with snow, all said, with one melancholy accord, that the sweet season
+was dying. When he had exterminated the withered brushwood Franco
+proposed to his wife that they should go to Casarico in their boat, and
+return the two first volumes of the _Mysteres du Peuple_ which they had
+eagerly devoured in a few days, to their friend Gilardoni, and borrow
+the next volume from him. They decided to start after lunch, when Maria
+should have gone to bed. But before Maria had been put to bed Barborin
+Pasotti appeared, all out of breath, her bonnet and mantle askew. She
+had come up from the garden-gate, and now stopped on the threshold of
+the hall. It was the first time she had been to see them since the
+search. Upon catching sight of her friends she clasped her hands, and
+kept repeating in a low tone: "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!" Then she
+flung herself upon Luisa and covered her with kisses.
+
+"My dear girl! My dear girl!" she exclaimed. She would have liked to
+treat Franco in the same way, but Franco was not favourable to this sort
+of emotion, and his expression was not encouraging, so the poor woman
+had to be satisfied with taking both his hands and shaking them
+heartily. "My dear Don Franco! My dear Don Franco!" Finally she gathered
+Maria into her arms, but the child planted her two little hands upon
+Barborin's chest, her face wearing an expression similar to her
+father's. "I am old, am I not? And ugly? You don't like me? Well, never
+mind, never mind!" And she fell to kissing the child's arms and
+shoulders humbly, not daring to brave the sour little face. Then she
+told her friends she had brought them a piece of good news, and her eyes
+sparkled at the pleasant mystery. The Marchesa had written to Pasotti,
+and one passage in the letter Barborin had committed to memory. "It was
+with the deepest regret (deepest regret, those were the very words) that
+I learned of the sad affair at Oria ... at Oria ... (wait a moment) the
+sad affair at Oria ... (ah!) and although my grandson is most
+undeserving (wait! ... have patience!) I trust that it may have no
+unpleasant consequences." The passage did not produce any great effect.
+Luisa frowned and said nothing. Franco glanced at his wife, and did not
+dare to utter the favourable comment he had on his lips, but not in his
+heart. Poor Barborin, who had taken advantage of her husband's absence
+at Lugano to run to her friends with this sugar-plum, was deeply
+mortified, and after gazing ruefully from Luisa to Franco, ended by
+pulling a real sugar-plum from her pocket, and offering it to Maria.
+Then, having made out that the Maironis wanted to go away in the boat,
+and longing to be allowed to stay with Maria a little while, she begged
+and entreated so hard that they finally started, leaving orders with
+Veronica to put the child to bed a little later.
+
+Maria did not seem any too well pleased with the company of her elderly
+friend. She remained silent, obstinately silent, and before long she
+opened her mouth and burst into tears. Poor Barborin did not know which
+Saint to appeal to, so she appealed to Veronica, but Veronica was
+discoursing with a customs-guard, and either did not or would not hear.
+Barborin showed her rings, her watch, even the big bonnet, _a la
+vice-reine Beauharnais_, but nothing would do, and Maria continued to
+weep. Then she bethought her of going to the piano, where she strummed
+eight or ten bars of an antediluvian jig over and over again. Then
+little Princess Maria became more amiable, and allowed her old
+court-pianist to lift her as carefully as if her little arms had been a
+butterfly's wings, and place her on her lap as softly as if there had
+been danger of the old legs crumbling to dust.
+
+When the jig had been repeated five or six times Maria began to look
+bored and tried to pull the elderly pianist's hand from the key-board,
+saying in an undertone: "Sing me a song." Obtaining no answer, she
+turned, looked Barborin straight in the face, and shouted at the top of
+her voice: "Sing me a song."
+
+"I don't understand," Barborin replied. "I am deaf."
+
+"Why are you deaf?"
+
+"I am deaf," the unfortunate woman answered, smiling.
+
+"But why are you deaf?"
+
+Barborin could not imagine what the child was saying.
+
+"I don't understand," said she.
+
+"Then you are stupid," Maria announced with a very serious face, and
+knitting her brows, she repeated in a whining voice: "I want a song!"
+
+A voice from the little garden said--
+
+"Here is the person for songs."
+
+Maria raised her head and her face became radiant. "Missipipi!" she
+cried, and slipping down from Barborin's lap, ran to meet Uncle Piero
+who was coming in. Signora Pasotti rose also, astonished and smiling,
+and stretched out her arms towards this old and unexpected friend.
+"Behold, behold, behold!" she exclaimed, and hastened to greet him.
+Maria was calling so loudly for "Missipipi, Missipipi!" and clinging so
+tight to Uncle Piero's legs, that, although he did not seem inclined to
+do so, he was obliged to sit down on the sofa, take the child on his
+knees, and repeat the old story to her.
+
+    Proud shade of the river----
+
+After four or five "Missipipis" Signora Pasotti went home, fearing her
+husband might return. Veronica wished to put the child to bed, but the
+little one rebelled, and Uncle Piero interfered, saying: "Oh, leave her
+here a little while longer," and he took her out to the terrace to see
+if Papa and Mamma were coming.
+
+No boat could be seen coming from Casarico. The little one ordered her
+uncle to sit down, and then she climbed upon his knee.
+
+"Why did you come?" said she. "There isn't any dinner for you, you
+know."
+
+"Then you must cook some for me. I came to stay with you."
+
+"Always?"
+
+"Always."
+
+"But really always, always, always?"
+
+"Really always."
+
+Maria became silent and thoughtful, but presently she asked--
+
+"What have you brought me?"
+
+Uncle Piero drew a rubber doll from his pocket. Had Maria known, had she
+been able to understand how he had gone out to buy that doll for her in
+great anguish of mind, still smarting from a terrible blow, she would
+have wept with pity.
+
+"This is an ugly present," said she, recalling others he had brought
+her. "And if you stay here will you never bring me any more presents?"
+
+"No more presents."
+
+"Go away, Uncle," said she.
+
+He smiled.
+
+And then Maria wanted her uncle to tell her if his uncle had brought him
+presents when he was a little boy. But, though the thing was
+inconceivable to Maria, this uncle of her uncle had never existed. Who
+had brought him presents, then? And had he always been a good little
+boy? Had he cried much? Her uncle began telling her many tales of his
+childhood, things that had happened sixty years before, when people wore
+wigs and pig-tails. He enjoyed talking to his little grand-niece of that
+far-away time, making her share for a moment the existence of his dead
+parents, and he spoke with sad gravity, as if the dear ones who had
+passed away had been present, and he were speaking more for them than
+for her. She fixed her wide-open eyes on his face, and gazed intently at
+him. Neither he nor she heeded the flight of time, neither he nor she
+thought of the boat that was coming.
+
+And the boat came. Luisa and Franco drew near, suspecting nothing, and
+believing the child to be asleep. Franco was the first to perceive Uncle
+Piero seated under the drooping branches of the passion-flower vine with
+Maria on his knee. He uttered a loud exclamation of surprise, and,
+followed by Luisa, hastened towards them, fearing something had
+happened. "You here?" he called as he ran. Luisa, who was very pale,
+said nothing. Uncle Piero raised his head, and looked at them. They felt
+at once that he had brought bad news, for they had never seen him so
+grave.
+
+"_Addio!_ God bless you!" said he.
+
+"What has happened?" Franco whispered. Uncle Piero motioned to them to
+withdraw from the terrace to the loggia, whither he followed them. Then
+the poor old man spread wide his arms as one crucified, and said in a
+sad but firm voice--
+
+"I am dismissed."
+
+Franco and Luisa stared at him for a moment, dazed. Then Franco burst
+out: "Oh, Uncle, Uncle!" and fell upon his neck. Seeing her father's
+action and the expression on her mother's face Maria fell to sobbing.
+Luisa tried to pacify her, but she herself, strong woman that she was,
+felt the tears rising in her throat.
+
+Seated on the sofa in the hall Uncle Piero told them that the Imperial
+and Royal Delegate of Como had sent for him to tell him that the search
+which had been carried out in his house at Oria had given painful and
+unexpected results, but what these results were he had positively
+refused to state. The Delegate had added that the authorities had at
+first intended to take legal proceedings against him, but that in
+consideration of his long and faithful services to the government, it
+had been decided to remove him from office instead. Uncle Piero had
+insisted upon knowing the nature of the accusations brought against him,
+but the Delegate had dismissed him without an answer.
+
+"And what is to be done now?" said Franco.
+
+"What is to be done----" Uncle Piero was silent for a moment, and then
+pronounced that sacramental phrase of unknown origin which he and his
+fellow _tarocchi_ players were in the habit of repeating when the game
+was hopelessly lost. "We are done brown, O Queen!"
+
+A long silence ensued, which was finally broken by Luisa, who cast
+herself upon her uncle's neck, murmuring: "Oh, Uncle, Uncle! I am afraid
+it is our fault." She was thinking of the grandmother, but Uncle Piero
+thought she was accusing Franco and herself of some imprudence.
+
+"Listen, my dear friends," said he good-naturedly, but in his tone there
+was a hidden spirit of reproof, "these discourses are useless. Now that
+the evil is done we must think of bread. You may count upon this house,
+upon some modest savings which bring me in about four _svanziche_ a day,
+and upon two more mouths to feed, mine and Cia's. Let us hope you will
+not have to feed mine long." Franco and Luisa protested. "Better so,
+better so!" Uncle Piero exclaimed, waving his arms as if in contempt of
+unreasonable sentimentality. "Live well, and die in good time. That is
+the best rule. I have performed the first part, now I must perform the
+second. Meanwhile send some water to my room, and open my bag. You will
+find ten meat croquettes, which Signora Carolina dell'Agria insisted
+upon giving me. You see we are not so badly off, after all!"
+
+Whereupon Uncle Piero rose and went out at the drawing-room door with a
+firm step, and even when his back was turned, displaying a head and body
+held erect, and an unruffled serenity like that of an ancient
+philosopher.
+
+Franco, with knitted brows and arms crossed upon his breast, was
+standing motionless on the edge of the terrace, and looking towards
+Cressogno. If at that moment he had had a bundle of Delegates,
+Commissaries, police-agents, and spies between his teeth, he would have
+ground them so hard that all these functionaries would have been reduced
+to pulp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+THE TRUMP CARD APPEARS
+
+
+"The boat is ready," said Ismaele, coming in unceremoniously, his pipe
+in his left hand, a lantern in his right.
+
+"What time is it?" Franco asked.
+
+"Half-past eleven."
+
+"And the weather?"
+
+"It is snowing."
+
+"That is good!" Uncle Piero exclaimed ironically, stretching his legs
+towards the flames of the juniper bush that was crackling in the little
+fireplace.
+
+In the small parlour, arranged for winter, Luisa, on her knees, was
+tying a muffler round Maria's neck. Franco, holding his wife's cape,
+stood waiting while the old housekeeper, her bonnet on and her hands
+buried in her muff, was grumbling at her master. "What a man you are!
+What are you going to do all alone here at home?"
+
+"I don't need any one when I am asleep," the engineer answered. "Other
+people may be mad, but I am not. Put my milk and the lamp here."
+
+It was Christmas Eve and the mad idea these otherwise sane people had
+conceived, the determination which seemed so incomprehensible to Uncle
+Piero, was to go to the solemn Midnight-Mass at S. Mamette.
+
+"And that innocent victim also!" said he, glancing at the child.
+
+Franco flushed hotly, and declared that he wished to prepare precious
+memories for her. He believed this excursion at night, in the boat, on
+the dark lake, the snow, the crowded and brightly lighted church, the
+organ, the singing, the holy associations of Christmas, would prove to
+be such. He spoke with heat, perhaps not so much for the uncle as for
+some one who was silent.
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," said Uncle Piero, as if he had expected this rhetoric,
+this useless poetry.
+
+"I am going to have some punch, too, you know!" said the child. The
+uncle smiled. "That is not bad! That will indeed form a precious
+memory!" Franco frowned at beholding his frail structure of poetical and
+religious memories thus demolished.
+
+"And Gilardoni?" Luisa asked.
+
+"Here they are now," Ismaele said, going out with his lantern.
+
+Professor Gilardoni had invited the Maironis and Donna Ester Bianchi to
+come to his house for punch after Mass. He was now expected from
+Niscioree, whither he had gone to fetch the young lady, who had lived
+there alone with two maid-servants since her father's death, which had
+taken place in 1852. The worthy Professor had mourned secretly for
+Signora Teresa for a reasonable length of time, but during the
+convalescence of his heart, which kept him weak and languid, and in
+permanent danger of a relapse, he had not been careful enough of the
+merry little face, the lively eyes, and sparkling gaiety of the little
+Princess of Niscioree, as the Maironis called Donna Ester.
+
+At seven-and-twenty Donna Ester looked like a girl of twenty, save in
+her movements there was a certain languor, and in her eyes a certain
+delicious hidden knowledge. She had not intended to fish for this
+respectable lover, but now she knew he was caught, and she was pleased,
+believing him to be a man of great genius, and infinite wisdom. That he
+should ever dare speak to her of love, that she might marry all this
+sallow, wrinkled, dry knowledge, had never entered her head.
+Nevertheless she did not wish to quench this little fire, which was so
+discreet, which was an honour to her, and probably a source of happiness
+to him. If she sometimes laughed about him with Luisa she was never the
+first to laugh, and always hastened to repeat: "Poor Signor Gilardoni!
+Poor Professor!"
+
+She came in hastily, her fair head enveloped in a great black hood,
+looking like Spring out on the spree disguised as December. December was
+close behind her, his neck shrouded in a great scarf, above which rose
+the red and shining professorial nose, irritated by the snow. As it was
+already late they immediately took leave of Uncle Piero, who was left
+alone with his milk and his lamp before the dying embers of the
+juniper-bush.
+
+A slight shadow of disapproval still rested on his face. Franco was
+playing the poet too much. Nowadays life was hard at Casa Maironi.
+Breakfast consisted of a cup of milk and chicory-coffee, and they used a
+sort of reddish sugar that tasted of the chemist's shop. They indulged
+in meat only on Thursdays and Sundays. A bottle of Grimelli wine
+appeared on the table regularly every day for Uncle Piero, who rebelled
+against being the privileged one. Every day clouds gathered around this
+bottle and a little storm burst forth, which, however, always ended as
+Uncle Piero wished, in a short shower of the decoction into each of the
+five glasses. The servant had been dismissed, and only Veronica remained
+to do the heavy work, stir the _polenta_, and sometimes look after
+Maria. But in spite of these and other economies Luisa could not make
+both ends meet, though Cia had refused to accept any wages, and gifts of
+curds, of _mascherpa_, of goats'-cheeses, of chestnuts and walnuts were
+always pouring in upon them from the townspeople. She had obtained some
+copying from a notary at Porlezza, but it was hard work for miserable
+pay. Franco had also begun to copy diligently, but he accomplished less
+than his wife and, moreover, there was not work enough for two. He
+should have bestirred himself, have sought some private employment, but
+Uncle Piero saw no signs of this, and so----?
+
+And so this thinking about poetic expeditions seemed to him more out of
+place than ever. After having pondered a long time upon their sad
+plight, and upon the slender probability that Franco would ever be able
+to extricate them from it, he reflected that, for him, the first thing
+to do was to drink his milk, and the second, to go to bed. But another
+thought came to him. He opened the hall-door, and seeing the room was
+quite dark, went into the kitchen, lighted a lantern, and carried it to
+the loggia, where he opened one of the windows. Although it was snowing
+there was no wind, so he placed the lantern on the window-sill, that its
+light might help those poetic people to steer their homeward course over
+the dark lake.
+
+Then he went to bed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Ismaele brought his freight safely to S. Mamette in the covered boat.
+The snow was still falling placidly in big flakes. The church was
+already quite full, and even the ladies were obliged to stand, behind
+the first row of benches. Ester volunteered to look after Maria, and
+lifted her to a seat on top of the bench in front of them, while the
+sacristan was busy lighting the candles on the high-altar. Cia was
+tormenting the Professor, whom she believed to be a pious man, with a
+thousand questions concerning the difference between the Roman and
+Ambrosian rites, and Maria was keeping Ester busy with still more
+puzzling questions.
+
+"Who are they lighting those candles for?"
+
+"For our Lord."
+
+"Is our Lord going to bed now?"
+
+"No, hush!"
+
+"And has the _bambino Gesu_--the child Jesus--gone to bed already?"
+
+"Yes, yes," Ester replied thoughtlessly, to put an end to these
+questions.
+
+"With the mule?"
+
+Once Uncle Piero had brought Maria an ugly, little wooden mule which she
+detested, and when she was obstinate and capricious her mother would put
+her to bed with the mule under her pillow, under her obstinate little
+head.
+
+"Be quiet, chatterbox!" said Ester.
+
+"I don't go to bed with the mule. I say _excuse me_!"
+
+"Hush! Listen to the organ."
+
+All the candles were now lighted, and the organist having mounted to his
+post, was teasing his old instrument as if to waken it, drawing from it
+what seemed to be angry grunts. When, on the ringing of a bell, the
+organ poured forth all its great voice, and the altar-boys and the
+priest appeared, Luisa stole her hand into her husband's, as if they had
+still been lovers.
+
+Those two hands pressing each other furtively were speaking of a fast
+approaching event, of a serious resolve which must be kept a secret,
+and which was not yet formed irrevocably. The little nervous hand said:
+"Have courage!" The manly hand said: "I will!" They must indeed make up
+their minds to it. Franco must go away, leave his wife, his child, and
+the old man, perhaps for some months, perhaps for some years. He must
+leave Valsolda, the dear little house, his flowers, perhaps for ever. He
+must emigrate to Piedmont, seek for work and gain, in the hope of being
+able to call his family to him in case that other great national hope
+should not be realised. He was glad his wife had chosen this solemn
+place and hour in which to encourage him in his sacrifice, and he did
+not drop the gentle hand, but held it as a lover might, never looking at
+Luisa, his face and person immovable. He spoke with his hand only, with
+his soul in palm and fingers, he spoke the most varied, passionate
+language, consisting of soft caresses, of embraces, of tenderness and
+ardour. From time to time she would endeavour to gently withdraw her
+hand, and then he would clasp it violently. His gaze was fixed on the
+altar, and he held his head erect as if absorbed in the music of the
+organ, in the voice of the priest, in the singing of the congregation.
+As a matter of fact he was not following the prayers, but he felt the
+Divine Presence, was experiencing an ecstasy, a fervour of love, of
+pain, of hope in God. Luisa had taken his hand in the belief that he was
+praying, that all his fears, all his doubts were stirring in his soul.
+She had indeed wished to inspire him with courage, convinced that this
+painful step was best for him. She only half understood the pressure
+that answered her; it seemed to her a passionate protest against this
+separation, and although this was most sweet to her, she could not
+approve of it, and so from time to time she strove to withdraw her hand.
+At the moment of the Elevation it was he who withdrew his, out of
+respect. Then he was obliged to take Maria in his arms, for she had
+fallen asleep, and slept on, her head on her father's shoulder,
+displaying half of a little, peaceful face. She, his darling, did not
+know that her father was going so far away, and his heart was filled
+with tender yearning towards that little, warm treasure, which breathed
+upon it, towards that tiny head, which had the perfume of a little wild
+bird. He imagined himself already gone, imagined that she was seeking
+for him, was crying, and then a desire to press her closer ran through
+his arms, a desire he quickly checked for fear of waking her.
+
+It had stopped snowing when they left the church.
+
+"Wind! Wind!" said Ismaele, coming towards them.
+
+"I shall walk! I shall walk!" groaned Cia, who had a great horror of the
+lake. Meanwhile the crowd issuing from the church pushed and dispersed
+the group, and carried them down the steps. The six travellers and the
+boatmen met again in the square of S. Mamette and here Donna Ester
+declared that, as she was not feeling very well, she must forego the
+punch, and that she would walk home with Cia.
+
+Franco, Luisa, and the Professor saw it would be useless to insist, and
+the two women started towards Oria escorted by Ismaele, who was to come
+back for the Maironis and the boat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A _moderateur_ lamp illumined Gilardoni's salon, a good fire was burning
+on the hearth, and Pinella had prepared everything for the punch over
+which Luisa presided, the host himself being much depressed in spirit by
+Donna Ester's desertion.
+
+"Look at Maria," said Franco softly.
+
+The little one had gone to sleep in the Professor's armchair near the
+window. Franco took the lamp and held it aloft in order to see her
+better. She seemed like some little creature descended from heaven,
+fallen there with the star-light, unconscious, her face suffused with a
+sweetness which was not of this world, with a solemnity full of mystery.
+"Darling!" said he, and drew his wife towards him with an encircling
+arm, his eyes still fixed on Maria. Gilardoni came up behind them, and
+murmured: "How lovely!" Then he went back to the fireplace sighing:
+"Happy people!"
+
+Franco, who was deeply moved, whispered in his wife's ear: "Shall we
+tell him?" She did not understand, and looked questioningly into his
+eyes. "That I am going away," said he, still in an undertone. Luisa
+started and answered, "Yes, yes!" She was greatly affected, for she had
+not expected this. In the church she had believed he was still
+undecided. Her astonishment did not escape Franco. He was troubled by it
+and felt his resolution shaken, but she at once perceived this, and
+repeated earnestly: "Yes, yes!" and gently pushed him towards Gilardoni.
+
+"Dear friend," said he, "I have something to tell you."
+
+The Professor, absorbed in contemplation of the fire, did not answer.
+Franco placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ah!" he exclaimed, rousing
+himself, "I beg your pardon! What it is?"
+
+"I wish to commend some one to your care."
+
+"To my care? Who is it?"
+
+"An old man, a woman, and a little child."
+
+The two men looked at each other in silence, one deeply moved, the other
+amazed.
+
+"Don't you understand?" Luisa whispered.
+
+No, he neither understood nor answered.
+
+"I commend my wife, my daughter, and the old uncle to your care," Franco
+replied.
+
+"Oh!" the Professor exclaimed, looking in astonishment from one to the
+other.
+
+"I am going away," said Franco, with a smile that went to Gilardoni's
+heart. "We have not told Uncle Piero yet, but I must go. In our position
+I cannot stay here doing nothing. I shall say I am going to Milan, and
+those who will may believe it, but I shall really be in Piedmont."
+
+Gilardoni clasped his hands in silent amazement. Luisa embraced Franco
+and kissed him, holding his head upon her breast, her eyes closed.
+
+The Professor imagined it was painful to her to bow to her husband's
+will in this matter.
+
+"Now listen to me," said he, addressing Franco. "If war had broken out I
+could understand your going, but as it is, I think you do wrong to cause
+your wife so much suffering for a question of money."
+
+Luisa who was still clinging with one arm to her husband's neck,
+motioned to Professor Gilardoni with the other hand, entreating him to
+be silent.
+
+"No, no, no!" she murmured, once more clasping her arms about Franco.
+"You are doing right! You are doing right!" As Gilardoni continued to
+insist, she drew away from her husband, and cried, her hands extended
+protestingly towards their host: "But, Professor, it is I who tell him
+he is doing right! I, his wife, tell him so! Dear Professor, don't you
+understand?"
+
+"After all, dear lady," Gilardoni burst out, "it is time you were
+informed----"
+
+Franco flung his arms towards him, crying impetuously: "Professor!"
+
+"You are doing wrong," the other replied. "You are doing wrong, very
+wrong!"
+
+"What is it, Franco?" Luisa demanded in astonishment. "Is there
+something I do not know?"
+
+"Only that I must go away, that I shall go away. That is all!"
+
+Franco's exclamation, "Professor!" had awakened Maria with a start.
+Seeing her mother's agitation she prepared to cry; presently she burst
+into violent sobbing, and wailed: "No Papa! Papa not go away! Not go
+away!"
+
+Franco took her in his arms, kissing and caressing her, while she kept
+repeating: "My Papa! My Papa!" in a pitiful, grieved voice that made
+their hearts ache. Her father yearned over her, and protested that he
+would always stay with her; but he wept at his own deceit, wept with the
+emotion this new tenderness, springing up at such a moment, caused him.
+
+Luisa was thinking of her husband's cry. Gilardoni saw she suspected a
+secret, and, hoping to distract her thoughts, asked her if Franco
+intended to start at once. Franco himself replied. Everything depended
+upon a letter from Turin. Perhaps it would be a week, at the latest a
+fortnight, before he started. Luisa was silent, and the subject was
+dropped. Then Franco talked of politics, of the probability that war
+would break out in the Spring. But again conversation soon languished.
+Gilardoni and Luisa seemed to be thinking of something else, to be
+listening to the beat of the waves against the garden wall. Finally
+Ismaele returned, drank his punch, and assured them that the lake was
+not very rough, and that they could start homewards.
+
+As soon as the Maironis were seated in the boat, and Maria had gone to
+sleep, Luisa asked her husband if there was something she did not know,
+and which Gilardoni must not tell.
+
+Franco did not answer.
+
+"Enough!" said she. Then her husband threw his arm around her neck and
+pressed her to him, protesting against words she had not uttered. "Oh,
+Luisa, Luisa!"
+
+Luisa suffered his embrace, but did not return it, and at last, in
+despair, her husband promised to tell her every thing, at once. "Do you
+think I am curious?" she whispered, in his arms. No, no. He would tell
+her at once, tell her everything; he would explain why he had not spoken
+before. She did not wish this; she preferred that he should speak at
+some other time, and of his own free will.
+
+The wind was in their favour and the light shining in the window of the
+loggia served Ismaele well as a guide. Franco's arm still encircled his
+wife's shoulders, and his gaze was fixed upon that shining point.
+Neither he nor she thought of the loving and prudent hand that had
+lighted it. But Ismaele thought of it, and reflected that neither
+Veronica nor Cia were capable of such an act of genius, and blessed the
+engineer's kind heart.
+
+On leaving the boat Maria woke up, and her parents seemed to have no
+thought save for her. When they were in bed Franco put out the light.
+
+"It concerns my grandmother," said he in a broken and agitated voice.
+"Poor boy!" Luisa murmured and took his hand affectionately. "I have
+never told you in order to avoid accusing my grandmother, and also
+because----" He paused, and then it was he who mingled with his words
+the most tender caresses, to which Luisa now no longer responded. "I
+feared your impressions, your sentiments, the ideas you might
+conceive----!" As his words began to express his doubts his voice grew
+more tender.
+
+Luisa felt the approach, not of a dispute, but of a far more lasting
+disagreement. Now, she no longer wished her husband to speak, and he,
+noticing her increasing coldness, did not continue. She rested her
+forehead against his shoulder, and said, almost in spite of herself:
+"Tell me!"
+
+Then Franco, his lips against her hair, related the story the Professor
+had told him on the night of their marriage. In repeating from memory
+the contents of his grandfather's letter and will, he greatly softened
+the injurious expressions used against his father and grandmother. In
+the middle of his recital Luisa, who had not expected such a revelation,
+raised her head from her husband's shoulder. He stopped. "Go on," said
+she.
+
+When he had finished she asked if there was any proof that his
+grandfather's will had been suppressed. Franco promptly answered that
+there was not. "Then," said she, "why did you speak of the ideas I
+might conceive?" Her thoughts had immediately flown to the probability
+of his grandmother's crime, to the possibility of a prosecution. But if
+prosecution were not possible?
+
+Franco did not answer, and she exclaimed, after a moment's reflection,
+"Ah! the copy of the will! Could that be used? Would that be valid?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And you would not use it?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Why not, Franco?"
+
+"There!" Franco exclaimed. "You see? I knew you would say so! No, I will
+not make use of it! No, no, never!"
+
+"But what reasons have you for not doing so?"
+
+"Good Lord! My reasons! My reasons can be felt. You should feel them
+without my having to explain them."
+
+"I do not feel them. Don't imagine I am thinking of the money. We will
+not touch the money. Give it to whomever you like; I feel the claims of
+justice. There are your grandfather's wishes to be respected; there is
+the crime your grandmother has committed. You who are so religious
+should perceive that Divine Justice has brought this document to light.
+Would you place yourself between this woman and Divine Justice?"
+
+"Let Divine Justice alone," Franco retorted, hotly. "What do we know of
+the ways of Divine Justice? There is also Divine Mercy. She is my
+father's mother, think of that! And have I not always despised this
+accursed money? What did I do when my grandmother threatened not to
+leave me a penny if I married you?"
+
+Unable to speak, he drew Luisa's head to his breast.
+
+"I despised the money for your sake," he went on in a stifled voice.
+"Would you have me try to regain it now by going to law?"
+
+"No indeed!" Luisa broke in, raising her head. "You may give the money
+to whomever you wish. I am talking of justice. Don't you also feel the
+demand of justice?"
+
+"_Dio mio!_" said he, with a deep sigh. "It would have been better if I
+had not spoken to-night."
+
+"Yes, perhaps. If you were bound never to alter your decision, it would
+perhaps have been wiser."
+
+Luisa's voice expressed sadness, not anger, as she uttered these words.
+
+"In any way, that document no longer exists," Franco remarked.
+
+Luisa started. "It no longer exists?" said she anxiously, in an
+undertone.
+
+"No. The Professor was to destroy it, by my orders."
+
+A long silence followed. Very slowly Luisa withdrew her head and rested
+it on her own pillow. Suddenly Franco exclaimed, aloud: "A law-suit
+indeed! With those documents! With those insults! To the mother of my
+father! And all for money!"
+
+"Don't keep repeating that," his wife exclaimed indignantly. "Why do you
+keep repeating that? Don't you know very well it is not true?"
+
+Both spoke excitedly. It was plain that during the preceding silence
+their thoughts had been hard at work on this point. The reproof
+irritated him, and he replied blindly--
+
+"I know nothing about it!"
+
+"Oh, Franco!" cried Luisa, much hurt. He already regretted the affront,
+and begged her to forgive him, accusing his hot temper, which made him
+say things he did not mean, and he entreated her to speak a kind word to
+him. "Yes, yes," Luisa answered with a sigh, but he was not satisfied,
+and wished her to embrace him and say, "I forgive you." The touch of the
+dear lips did not refresh him as usual. Some minutes passed, and then he
+strained his ear to hear if his wife had fallen asleep. He heard the
+wind, Maria's quiet breathing, the noise of the waves, the jarring of a
+window, but that was all. "Have you really forgiven me?" he whispered,
+and he heard her soft answer: "Yes, dear." Presently she, in her turn,
+listened, and besides the wind, the waves, the creaking of a shutter,
+the even, regular breathing of the child, she heard the even, regular
+breathing of her husband. Then she once more sighed deeply, sighed
+despairingly. Oh, God! How could Franco have acted thus? What wounded
+her heart most sorely was the fact that he did not seem to sense the
+injuries which her poor mother and Uncle Piero had suffered. But she
+would not allow herself to dwell on this thought, at least not until she
+had considered his other mistake, his mistaken idea of justice. And here
+she felt bitterly, but not without a certain satisfaction, that he was
+her inferior, that he was controlled by sentiments that were the outcome
+of his fancy, while her own sentiment was inspired by reason. Franco had
+in him so much of the child. He had, even now, been able to go to sleep,
+while she was sure of not closing her eyes all night long. She believed
+she was without imagination because she did not feel it move, because in
+her it was less easily inflamed. She would have laughed had she been
+told that imagination was more powerful in her than in her husband. But
+indeed such was the case. Only, in order to demonstrate this, both souls
+must be turned upside down, for Franco's imagination was visible on the
+surface of his soul, and all his reason was at the bottom, while in
+Luisa's soul imagination was at the bottom, and reason was plainly
+visible on the surface. In fact, she did not sleep, but all night long
+she thought, with that imagination that lay at the bottom of her soul,
+how religion favours weak sentimentality, how incapable it is, even
+while preaching the thirst for justice, of forming a correct sense of
+justice in those intellects which are devoted to it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Professor also, who was subject to serious infiltrations of
+imagination into the ratiocinative cells of his brain, as well as into
+the amorous cells of his heart, having put out the light, spent the
+greater part of the night in front of the fireplace, working with the
+tongs and with his imagination, taking up, examining and then dropping
+embers and projects, until only one glowing coal and one last idea
+remained. Then he took a match, and having held it in contact with the
+ember, lighted the lamp once more, seized the idea, which was also hot
+and luminous, and carried it off to bed with him.
+
+This was the idea. He would start secretly for Brescia, present himself
+before the Marchesa with the terrible document, and obtain a
+capitulation.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE PROFESSOR PLAYS HIS TRUMP CARD
+
+
+Three days later, in Milan, at five o'clock in the morning, Professor
+Gilardoni, muffled up to the eyes, issued from the Albergo degli Angeli,
+passed in front of the cathedral, turned into the dark street called dei
+Rastrelli behind a line of horses led by postilions, and entered the
+booking office of the public coaches. The little courtyard where the
+post-office now stands, was already full of people, of horses, of
+lanterns. To the hermit of Valsolda all these voices of postilions and
+of guards, this stamping of horses and jingling of bells, seemed like a
+real pandemonium.
+
+The horses were being harnessed to two coaches, four to each. The
+Professor was going to Lodi because he had learned that the Marchesa was
+visiting a friend there, and the Lodi coach would start at half-past
+five.
+
+It was intensely cold, and the poor Professor wandered anxiously around
+the ungainly carriage, stamping his feet to warm them, until presently
+another traveller said jestingly to him: "Cool, is it not?" "Just a
+little fresh! Just a little fresh!" The horses were harnessed at last,
+an employe called the passengers by name, and the worthy Beniamino
+disappeared within the bowels of the huge vehicle, together with two
+priests, an old woman servant, an elderly gentleman with an enormous
+wart on his face, and a fashionably dressed young man. The doors were
+closed, an order was given, the bells jingled, the huge vehicle shook
+itself, the priests, the old woman, and the gentleman with the wart
+crossed themselves, the horses' sixteen hoofs rattled under the portal,
+the massive wheels rumbled through it, and then all this noise grew
+fainter as the coach turned to the right, towards Porta Romana.
+
+Now the wheels revolved almost noiselessly, and the travellers heard
+only the irregular beat of the sixteen hoofs on the stones. The
+Professor watched the passing of dark houses, the pale glow of
+infrequent street lamps, the flashing light from some small
+coffee-house, or a vanishing sentry-box.
+
+It seemed to him that the presence of these soldiers lent something
+threatening, something so formidable to the silence of the great city,
+that the very walls of the houses were black with hatred. When the coach
+entered the Corso di Porta Romana, so filled with fog that he could
+hardly see out of the window, he closed his eyes, and gave himself up to
+the pleasure of thinking of and conversing with the things and persons
+that filled his heart.
+
+It was no longer the passenger with the wart who sat opposite him, but
+Donna Ester, all enveloped in a great black cape, a broad-brimmed hat
+upon her head. She was looking at him fixedly, and her lovely eyes were
+saying: "Well done! You are acting nobly! Showing a great heart. I would
+not have believed it! I admire you! To me you are no longer old and
+ugly. Courage!" At this exhortation to have courage, he was seized with
+fear, for the image of the Marchesa rose before him, and the dull rumble
+of the wheels became the old lady's nasal voice, saying: "Won't you sit
+down? What can I do for you?"
+
+At this point the coach stopped and the Professor opened his eyes. Porta
+Romana. An official opened the door and asked for the passports and
+having collected them, carried them away. Returning again in about five
+minutes, he restored their passports to all the passengers save the
+fashionably dressed young man. To him he said sharply: "Come with me."
+The young man turned pale, but got out in silence and did not return. In
+a moment or two the door was closed, and a rough voice cried:
+"_Avanti!_" The gentleman with the wart placed his travelling-bag on the
+seat that was now vacant, but none of the other passengers gave any sign
+of having noticed what had happened. Only when the four horses had once
+more begun to trot did Gilardoni ask the priest, his neighbour, if he
+knew the young man's name, but the priest's only answer was a cross
+grunt, as he turned two terrified and suspicious eyes upon the
+Professor. Beniamino now looked towards the other priest, who
+immediately drew a rosary from his pocket and, having made the sign of
+the cross, began to pray. Once more the Professor closed his eyes, and
+the image of the unknown young man was lost for ever in the mist, like
+the few and phantom-like trees, the poplars and willows, slipping past
+on either side of the road.
+
+"How shall I begin?" thought Gilardoni. Ever since Christmas Eve he had
+done nothing but imagine and debate within himself how he should present
+himself before the Marchesa, how introduce the subject, how explain it,
+and what terms he should offer. This was the only point on which he was
+clear. If the Marchesa would make her grandson a liberal allowance, he
+would destroy the documents. He had not brought them with him, but he
+had copies of them. Their effect would surely be tremendous, but how
+should he begin? Not one of the many preambles he had thought of
+satisfied him. Even now with closed eyes and fancy hard at work, he was
+considering the question, starting from the only known factor: "Take a
+seat. What can I do for you?" But invariably his answer would appear to
+him either too obsequious or too daring, too remote from the subject or
+too close to it, and he would once more go back to the beginning. "What
+can I do for you?"
+
+The pale light of dawn, dreary, sad, and sleepy, invaded the coach. Now
+that the time for the interview was approaching, a thousand doubts, a
+thousand fresh uncertainties upset all the Professor's plans. The very
+base of his calculations suddenly collapsed. What if the Marchesa should
+not say either, "Take a seat," or "What can I do for you?" What if she
+should receive him in some other embarrassing manner? And what if she
+should not receive him at all! Merciful heavens! What then? The sudden
+ringing of the sixteen hoofs on a paved way set his heart to beating.
+However, it was not yet the streets of Lodi, but those of Melegnano.
+
+He reached Lodi at about nine o'clock, and got out at the Albergo del
+Sole, where they gave him a room without fire or sun. Not daring to
+brave either the fog in the street or the fumes in the kitchen, he
+decided to go to bed, and putting on his night-cap, which was acquainted
+with all his woes, he waited, a camphor cigarette between his lips, for
+the coming of noon and a happy thought.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At one o'clock he ascended the steps of the Palazzo X. with the wise
+determination to carefully forget all the speeches he had prepared, and
+to trust to the inspiration of the moment. A footman in a white tie
+ushered him into a large, dark apartment, with a brick floor, walls hung
+with yellow silk, and a stuccoed ceiling, and having bowed respectfully,
+went away. A few antique, white and gilt armchairs covered with red
+damask stood in a semicircle before the fireplace, where three or four
+enormous logs were burning slowly, behind the brass fender. The air was
+laden with the mixed odours of ancient mould, ancient cakes, ancient
+stuffs, ancient leather, and decrepit ideas, the whole forming a subtle
+essence of old age enough to shrivel the very soul.
+
+The servant reappeared and announced, to Gilardoni's utter confusion,
+the imminent arrival of the Signora Marchesa. He waited and waited, and
+at last a great door, ornamented with gilding, swung open, a little
+moving bell tinkled, Friend trotted in, sniffing the floor to right and
+left, and was followed by a great bell-shaped mass of black silk, under
+a small cupola of white lace, while, between two blue ribbons, appeared
+the black wig, the marble brow, the lifeless eyes of the Marchesa
+herself.
+
+"What miracle! The Professor in Lodi!" said the drowsy voice, while the
+small dog sniffed at the Professor's boots. Gilardoni made a low bow,
+and the lady, who might have been the jar containing the essence of old
+age, seated herself on one of the chairs near the fire, and installed
+her lap-dog on another; after which she motioned to Gilardoni to be
+seated also. "I suppose," said she, "that you have some relative at the
+convent of the 'Dame Inglese'?"
+
+"No," the Professor replied, "I have not."
+
+Sometimes the Marchesa was facetious in her own way. "Then," said she,
+"you probably came for a supply of _mascherponi_."[M]
+
+"Not for that either, Signora Marchesa. I came on business."
+
+"Indeed. You are unfortunate in the weather. I believe it is raining
+now."
+
+At this unexpected digression the Professor came near losing his
+bearings. "Yes," said he, feeling that he was growing foolish, like the
+scholar whose examination is taking a bad turn. "It is drizzling."
+
+His voice, his expression, could not fail to reveal his inward
+embarrassment, to show the Marchesa that he had come to tell her
+something important. However, she carefully avoided helping him to
+unburden himself, and continued to talk of the weather, the cold, the
+dampness, a catarrh from which Friend was suffering, while the dog
+punctuated his mistress's recital with frequent sneezes.
+
+The drowsy voice had a calm, almost jocose inflection, a sort of bland
+benevolence, and the Professor was bathed in cold sweat at the bare
+thought of checking this mellifluous flow, and offering in exchange the
+bitter pill he had in his pocket. He might have taken advantage of a
+pause to pour forth his preamble, but he was not equal to it, and it was
+the Marchesa who seized the opportunity to close the interview.
+
+"I thank you very much for your visit," said she, "and now I am going to
+dismiss you, for you have your business to attend to, and, to tell the
+truth, I also have an engagement."
+
+Now or never he must take the leap.
+
+"As a matter of fact," Gilardoni began, greatly agitated, "I came to
+Lodi to speak with you, Signora Marchesa."
+
+"I should never have been able to guess that," said the lady frigidly.
+
+The Professor was carried forward by the impetus of his daring.
+
+"It is a most urgent matter," said he, "and I must beg----"
+
+"If it is a matter of business, you must apply to my agent in Brescia."
+
+"Pardon me, Signora Marchesa, it is really a most important affair. No
+one knows and no one must know that I have come to see you. I will tell
+you at once that it concerns your grandson."
+
+The Marchesa rose, and the dog that had been crouching in the armchair
+also sprang up, barking in Gilardoni's direction.
+
+"Do not speak to me of that person who no longer exists for me," the old
+lady said solemnly. "Come, Friend!"
+
+"No, Signora Marchesa," the Professor protested. "You cannot possibly
+imagine what I have to tell you."
+
+"I do not in the least care to know. I do not wish to hear anything.
+Good-day to you!"
+
+Whereupon the inflexible old lady moved towards the door.
+
+"Marchesa!" Beniamino called after her, while Friend, who had jumped
+from the chair, barked furiously around his legs. "It concerns your
+husband's will!"
+
+This time the Marchesa could not but stop. She did not, however, turn
+round.
+
+"This will cannot be pleasing to you," Gilardoni added rapidly. "But I
+have no intention of publishing it. I entreat you to listen to me,
+Marchesa."
+
+She turned round. Her impenetrable face betrayed a certain emotion in
+the quivering of the nostrils. Nor were the shoulders entirely at rest.
+
+"What tales have you to tell?" she retorted. "Do you think it fitting to
+thus inconsiderately mention my poor Franco to me? How dare you meddle
+with my family affairs?"
+
+"Excuse me," the Professor repeated, searching in his pocket. "If I do
+not meddle some one else may do so even less considerately. Kindly
+examine these documents. These----"
+
+"Keep your scribblings to yourself," the Marchesa interrupted, seeing
+him draw some papers from his pocket.
+
+"These are copies I have made----"
+
+"I tell you to keep them, to take them away!"
+
+The Marchesa rang the bell, and once more started to leave the room.
+
+Gilardoni, quivering with excitement, hearing the approaching steps of
+a servant, and seeing her about to open the door, threw his documents
+upon one of the armchairs, saying hastily, in an undertone: "I will
+leave them here. Let no one see them. I am staying at the Sole, and will
+return to-morrow. Examine the papers, and think over them carefully!"
+And before the servant arrived he had rushed out at the same door by
+which he had entered, had seized his heavy cape, and fled downstairs.
+
+The Marchesa dismissed the footman, and stood listening for a few
+moments. Then she retraced her steps, took up the papers, and went to
+her room, locking her door behind her. Having put on her spectacles she
+took her stand near the window, and began to read. Her brow was clouded
+and her hands trembled.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Professor was preparing to go to bed in his icy room at the Sole
+when two police-agents came with a summons for him to appear at once at
+the police-station.
+
+He felt some secret misgivings, but did not lose his head, and went
+quietly away with the two men. At the station a little impudent
+Commissary asked him why he had come to Lodi, and upon being informed
+that he had come on private business shrugged his shoulders in
+contemptuous incredulity. What private business did Signor Gilardoni
+pretend to have in Lodi? With whom? The Professor mentioned the
+Marchesa. "There are no Maironis at Lodi," the Commissary exclaimed,
+and when his victim protested he speedily interrupted him. "_Basta!_
+That will do! That will do!" The police knew for a certainty that
+Professor Gilardoni, although he was an Imperial and Royal pensioner,
+was not a loyal Austrian; that he had friends at Lugano, and that he had
+come to Lodi for political ends.
+
+"You are better informed than I am," Gilardoni exclaimed, restraining
+his wrath with difficulty.
+
+"Silence!" the Commissary commanded. "You must not think the Imperial
+and Royal government is afraid of you. You are free to go, but you must
+leave Lodi within two hours."
+
+At this point Franco would have immediately perceived from whence the
+blow came, but the philosopher did not understand.
+
+"I came to Lodi on most urgent business, which is not yet finished,"
+said he. "On most important, private business. How can I leave in two
+hours?"
+
+"By carriage. If you are still in Lodi at the end of two hours I shall
+have you arrested."
+
+"My health does not permit me to travel at night in December," the
+victim urged.
+
+"Very well, then I will have you arrested at once!"
+
+The poor philosopher took up his hat in silence, and went out.
+
+An hour later he started for Milan in a closed calash, his feet
+embedded in straw, a rug over his legs, a great muffler round his neck,
+reflecting that this had been a most successful expedition, and
+swallowing momently to see if his throat were sore. He passed a horrible
+night, indeed, but the Marchesa herself did not rest on a bed of roses.
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[M] _Mascherponi_: A sort of common cheese made in Lodi. [_Translator's
+note._]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+HOURS OF BITTERNESS
+
+
+On the last day of the year, while Franco was writing out the very
+minute directions concerning the care of the flowers and the
+kitchen-garden, which he intended to leave for his wife's guidance, and
+the uncle sat reading for the tenth time his favourite book, the
+_History of the Diocese of Como_, Luisa went out for a walk with Maria.
+The sun was shining brightly. There was no snow save on Bisgnago and
+Galbiga. Maria found a violet near the cemetery, and another down in the
+Calcinera. There it was really warm, and the air was pleasantly scented
+with laurel. Luisa sat down to think, with her back to the hill, and
+allowed Maria to amuse herself by climbing up the bank behind her, and
+sliding down again on the dry grass.
+
+She had not seen the Professor since Christmas Eve, and she longed to
+speak with him; not to hear the story of the Maironi will over again,
+but to get him to tell her about his interview with Franco, when he had
+shown it to him: to ascertain what Franco's first impression had been
+and what the Professor's opinion was. As the will had been destroyed,
+all this could only be of psychological importance, but Luisa's
+curiosity was not the curiosity of the idle observer. Her husband's
+conduct had deeply wounded her. Thinking of it over and over again, as
+she had done ever since Christmas Eve, she had arrived at the conclusion
+that his silence towards her had been an outrage against justice and
+affection. It was a bitter sorrow to her to feel her esteem for him
+diminishing, especially bitter now, on the eve of his departure, and at
+a time when he really deserved praise. She would have liked, at least,
+to know that when Gilardoni had shown him the documents there had been
+some inward struggle, that a more just sentiment had been aroused in his
+soul, if only for a moment. She rose, took Maria by the hand, and
+started towards Casarico.
+
+She found the Professor in the garden with Pinella, and told Maria to
+run and play with the boy, but Maria, always eager to listen to the
+conversation of her elders, would not hear of going. Then Luisa broached
+the subject without mentioning any names. She wished to speak to the
+Professor about certain papers, about those old letters. The Professor,
+who was crimson, protested that he did not understand. Fortunately,
+Pinella called Maria, enticing her with a picture-book, and she ran to
+him, conquered by her curiosity concerning the book. Then Luisa relieved
+the Professor of his scruples, by informing him that Franco himself had
+told her everything, and she confessed to him that she had disapproved
+of her husband's conduct, that it had been, and still was a source of
+great sorrow to her----
+
+"Why, why, why?" said the worthy Professor, interrupting her. Because
+Franco had not been willing to do anything. "I have done something! I
+have done something!" Gilardoni exclaimed, anxiously and excitedly. "But
+for the love of Heaven, don't tell your husband!" Luisa was amazed. What
+had the Professor done? And when, and how? And was not the will already
+destroyed?
+
+Then Gilardoni, as red as a glowing coal, his eyes full of anxiety, his
+recital often interrupted by such exclamations as, "For mercy's sake,
+don't tell!--You will be silent, eh?" revealed all his secrets to her,
+from the preserving of the will to his journey to Lodi. Luisa listened
+to the very end, and then, clasping her face tightly between her hands,
+uttered a horrified "Ah!"
+
+"Did I do wrong?" said the poor Professor, much alarmed. "Did I do
+wrong, Signora Luisina?"
+
+"Very wrong! Terribly wrong! Forgive me, but it looked as if you were
+proposing some transaction, some bargain, and the Marchesa is sure to
+believe we are in league with you! Oh, it is awful!"
+
+She wrung her clenched hands as if striving to press into shape, to
+remodel a more level professorial head for him. In utter amazement the
+poor Professor kept repeating: "Oh, Lord! Oh, dear me! Oh, what an ass
+I am!" without really comprehending the nature of his blunder. Luisa
+flung herself upon the parapet overhanging the lake, and stared into the
+water. Suddenly she started up, beating the back of her right hand upon
+the palm of her left, her face brightening. "Take me to your study,"
+said she. "Can I leave Maria here?" The Professor nodded, and,
+trembling, accompanied her to the study. Luisa took a sheet of paper and
+wrote rapidly: "Luisa Maironi Rigey begs to inform the Marchesa Maironi
+Scremin that Professor Beniamino Gilardoni is a most faithful friend of
+both her husband and herself, but that they nevertheless heartily
+disapprove of his inopportune use of a document which should have been
+disposed of in a different manner. Therefore, no communication from the
+Marchesa is either expected or desired."
+
+When she had finished she silently held out the letter to the Professor.
+"Oh no!" he exclaimed, as soon as he had read it; "For the love of
+Heaven don't send that letter! What if your husband should find it out?
+Think what a misfortune for me, for you yourself! And how can it
+possibly be kept from your husband?" Luisa did not answer, but gazed
+fixedly at him, not thinking of him, but of Franco; thinking that the
+Marchesa might look upon the letter as a snare, an attempt to intimidate
+her, she took it back and tore it in pieces, with a sigh. The Professor
+became radiant, and wished to kiss her hand, but she protested. She had
+not done it for his sake or for Franco's but for other reasons. The
+sacrifice of this outlet for her feelings exasperated her still more
+against Franco. "He is wrong! He is wrong!" she repeated, with
+bitterness in her heart, and neither she nor the Professor noticed that
+Maria was in the room. On seeing her mother leave the garden the little
+one no longer wished to remain with Pinella, so he had brought her to
+the door of the study, opening it noiselessly for her. The child, struck
+by her mother's expression, stopped and stared at her with a look of
+terror. She saw her tear the letter and heard her exclaim: "He is
+wrong!" and then she began to cry. Luisa hastened to her, folded her in
+her arms, and consoled her, and then they immediately took their
+departure. The Professor's parting words were: "For pity's sake, be
+silent!"
+
+"Why be silent?" Maria quickly demanded. Her mother did not heed her;
+her thoughts were elsewhere. Three or four times Maria repeated: "Why be
+silent?" until at last Luisa said: "Hush! That will do." Then she was
+quiet for a time, but presently she began again, simply to tease her
+mother, and lifting her little, laughing face repeated: "Why be silent?"
+This time she was well scolded, and once more became silent; but when
+they were passing below the cemetery, only a few steps from home, she
+again burst forth, with the same mischievous laugh. Then Luisa, who had
+been absorbed in the effort to compose her face into an expression of
+indifference, simply gave her a shake, but it sufficed to silence her.
+
+That day Maria was in very high spirits. At dinner, while jesting with
+her mother, she suddenly recalled the reprimands she had received when
+out walking, and looking covertly at Luisa, once more repeated her "Why
+be silent?" with the same timid and provoking little laugh. Her mother
+pretended not to hear, so she persevered. Then Luisa checked her with an
+"Enough!" so unusually stern that Maria's little mouth opened wider and
+wider, and the tears began to flow. Uncle Piero exclaimed: "Oh dear me!"
+and Franco frowned, showing that he disapproved of his wife's action. As
+Maria kept on crying, he vented his displeasure upon her, took her in
+his arms, and carried her off, screaming like an eagle. "Better still!"
+said Uncle Piero. "Fine disciplinarians, both of you!" "You let them
+alone," said Cia, for Luisa did not speak. "Parents must be obeyed."
+"That's it! Let us have your wisdom also!" Uncle Piero retorted, and Cia
+relapsed into sullen silence.
+
+Meanwhile Franco returned, having deposited Maria in one corner of the
+alcove-room, grumbling something about people who seemed bound to make
+children cry. And now Luisa also was vexed, and went to fetch Maria,
+whom she presently brought back in a lachrymose but mute state. The
+short meal ended badly, for Maria would not eat, and all the others were
+out of temper for one reason or another; all save Uncle Piero, who set
+about lecturing Maria, half seriously half playfully, until he succeeded
+in bringing a little sunshine back to her face. After dinner Franco went
+to look after some flower-pots, which he kept in the cellar below the
+little hanging garden, and took Maria with him. Seeing her once more in
+good spirits, he gently questioned her about what had happened. What did
+she mean by that "Why be silent?" "I don't know." "But why did mamma not
+wish you to say it?" "I don't know. I kept saying that, and mamma kept
+scolding me." "When?" "Out walking." "Where did you go?" "To the Signor
+Ladroni's." (It was Uncle Piero who had thus simplified the Professor's
+name.) "And did you begin saying that when you were at Signor Ladroni's
+house?" "No. Signor Ladroni said it to mamma." "What did he say?" "Why,
+papa, you don't understand anything! He said: 'For pity's sake be
+silent!'" Franco said no more. "Mamma tore a paper at Signor Ladroni's
+house," Maria added, believing her father would be all the better
+pleased the more she told him concerning that visit, but he ordered her
+to be quiet. On returning to the house Franco asked Luisa, with an
+expression that was far from amiable, why she had made the child cry.
+Luisa scrutinised him closely. It seemed to her he suspected something,
+and she asked indignantly if he expected her to seek to justify herself
+for such petty matters. "Oh no!" Franco answered coldly, and went into
+the garden to see if the dry leaves at the base of the orange-trees and
+the straw around the trunks were in order, for the night promised to be
+very cold. As he worked over the plants he reflected that had they
+possessed intelligence and words they would have shown themselves more
+affectionate, more grateful than usual, on account of his imminent
+departure, while Luisa had the heart to be harsh with him. He did not
+remember that he also had been harsh. Luisa, on the other hand, at once
+regretted her answer, but she could not hold him back, throw her arms
+about his neck, and end it all with a kiss or two; that other matter
+weighed too heavily on her heart. Franco finished swathing his orange
+trees and came into the house for his cape, intending to go to church at
+Albogasio. Luisa, who was in the kitchen peeling some chestnuts, heard
+him pass through the corridor, stood hesitating a moment, struggling
+with herself, and then rushed out, catching up with him just as he was
+starting downstairs.
+
+"Franco!" said she. Franco did not answer, but seemed to repulse her.
+Then she seized his arm and dragged him into the neighbouring alcove
+room.
+
+"What do you want?" said he, shaken, but still determined to appear
+vexed. Luisa, instead of answering, threw her arms about his neck, drew
+his unwilling head upon her breast, and said softly--
+
+"We must not quarrel these last days."
+
+He had expected words of excuse, and pushed his wife's arm aside,
+answering dryly--
+
+"I have not quarrelled. Perhaps you will tell me," he added, "what
+Professor Gilardoni confided to you that was such a great secret that he
+felt obliged to entreat you to be silent."
+
+Luisa looked at him, amazed and pained. "You doubted me?" said she. "You
+questioned the child? Did you indeed do that?"
+
+"Well," he cried, "and what if I did? Anyway, I am well aware you always
+think the worst of me. Listen now. I don't want to know anything." She
+interrupted him. "But I will tell you! I will tell you!" His conscience
+was pricking him a little on account of his questioning of the child,
+and now seeing Luisa ready to speak, he would not listen to her, and
+forbade her to explain. But his heart was full to overflowing with
+bitterness, for which he must find an outlet. He complained that since
+Christmas Eve she had not been the same to him. Why protest? He had seen
+it clearly. Indeed, something else had long been clear to him. What? Oh,
+something very natural! Perfectly natural! Was he, after all, worthy of
+her love? Certainly not. He was only a poor useless creature, and
+nothing more. Was it not natural that upon knowing him better she
+should love him less? For surely she did love him less than at one time!
+
+Luisa trembled, fearful that this might be true.
+
+"No, Franco, no!" she cried, but her very dread of not saying the words
+with proper conviction was sufficient to paralyze her voice. He had
+expected a violent denial, and murmured terrified: "My God!" Then it was
+her turn to be terrified, and she pressed him despairingly in her arms,
+sobbing: "No, no, no!" By means of some magnetic current they understood
+each other's every thought, and remained long united in a close embrace,
+speaking in a mute, spasmodic effort of their whole being, complaining
+one of the other, reproaching, passionately striving to draw together
+again, revelling in the sharp and bitter delight of being, for the
+moment, united by sheer force of will and of love, in spite of the
+secret disunion of their ideas, of their natures; and all this without a
+word, without a sound.
+
+Franco once more started to go to church. He would not invite Luisa to
+accompany him, hoping she would do so of her own free will, but she did
+not, fearing he might not wish it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On the morning of the seventh of January, shortly after ten o'clock,
+Uncle Piero sent for Franco.
+
+The uncle was still in bed. He was in the habit of rising late, because
+his room could not be heated, and for the sake of economy he did not
+wish the fire in the little salon lighted too early. However, the cold
+did not prevent his sitting up in bed and reading, half his chest and
+both arms outside the covers.
+
+"_Ciao!_ Good-morning!" said he, as Franco entered.
+
+From the tone of his greeting, from the expression of the fine face,
+serious in its kindliness, Franco understood that Uncle Piero was about
+to say something unusual.
+
+In fact, the uncle pointed to the chair beside his bed, and uttered the
+most solemn of his exordiums--
+
+"Sit you down!"
+
+Franco sat down.
+
+"So you are leaving to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes, uncle."
+
+"Good!"
+
+It would seem that in uttering that "Good!" the uncle's heart came into
+his mouth, for the word filled his cheeks, and came out full and
+ringing.
+
+"So far," the old man continued, "you have never heard me--let us
+say--either approve or disapprove of your plan. Perhaps I did not feel
+quite sure you would carry it out. But now----"
+
+Franco stretched out both hands to him. "Now," Uncle Piero went on,
+pressing those hands in his own, "seeing you are firm in your resolve, I
+say to you: Your resolve is good. We are in need, go; work, work is a
+great thing! May God help you to begin well, and then help you to
+persevere, which is a far more difficult thing. There!"
+
+Franco would have kissed his hands, but he was quick to withdraw them.
+"Let them alone! Let them alone!" And he once more began to speak.
+
+"Now listen. It is quite possible we may never meet again." Franco
+protested. "Yes, yes, yes!" the old man exclaimed, withdrawing his soul
+from his eyes and voice. "Those are all fine things, things that must be
+said. But let them go!"
+
+The eyes once more resumed their kindly and serious light, and the voice
+its grave tone.
+
+"It is quite possible we shall never meet again. After all, I put it to
+you, what good am I now in this world? It would be far better for you if
+I took my departure. Perhaps your grandmother resents my having taken
+you in; perhaps, if I were gone, it would be easier for her to accept a
+reconciliation. Therefore, supposing we never meet again, I beg you to
+make some overtures to her as soon as I am dead, if things have not
+already been arranged."
+
+Franco rose and embraced his uncle with tears in his eyes.
+
+"I have made no will," Uncle Piero continued, "and I shall not make one.
+What little I have belongs to Luisa; no will is necessary. I commend Cia
+to your care. Do not let her want for a bed and a crust of bread. As to
+my funeral, three priests will suffice to sing my _requiem_ with true
+feeling; our own priest, Intrioni, and the Prefect of Caravina. There is
+no necessity of having five, who will sing it for love of the candles
+and the white wine. Leave the question of my clothes to Luisa, she will
+know what to do with them. You yourself will keep my repeater to remind
+you of me. I should like to leave Maria a keepsake, but what shall it
+be? I might give her a piece of my gold chain. If you have a little
+medallion or a crucifix you may attach it to my chain and hang it round
+her neck. And now, Amen!"
+
+Franco was in tears. It was a great shock to hear the uncle speak of his
+death thus calmly, as if it had been some matter of business which must
+be arranged judiciously and honestly; the uncle who, when conversing
+with his friends, seemed so deeply attached to life that he would often
+say: "If one could only avoid that inevitable breakdown!!"
+
+"Ah! Now tell me," said Uncle Piero, "what sort of work do you expect to
+find?"
+
+"T. writes that at first I am to go into a newspaper office in Turin.
+Perhaps I shall find something better later on. If I don't earn enough
+to live on in the office, and nothing else turns up, I shall come back.
+Therefore all this must be kept perfectly secret--at least, for a time."
+
+Uncle Piero was incredulous concerning the possibility of secrecy. "And
+how about the letters?" he inquired.
+
+As to letters, it had been arranged that Franco should address his to
+the postoffice at Lugano, and Ismaele would take those from the family
+to Lugano, and bring back his. And what should they tell their friends?
+They had already said that Franco was going to Milan, on the eighth, on
+business, and would be absent perhaps a month, perhaps longer.
+
+"It is not the most agreeable thing in the world to have to throw dust
+in people's eyes," the uncle said. "But however...! I am going to
+embrace you now, Franco, for I know you are leaving early to-morrow
+morning, and we shall hardly be alone together to-day. Good-bye, then.
+Once more, remember all my injunctions, and don't forget me. Oh, one
+thing more! You are going to Turin. As a government official I always
+did what I could to be of service to my country. I never conspired, and
+I would not conspire even now, but I have always loved my country. And
+so, salute the tricolour for me. Good-bye, my dear boy!"
+
+Then Uncle Piero opened his arms.
+
+"You shall come to Piedmont also, uncle," Franco said, as he rose from
+that embrace, greatly moved. "If I can only manage to earn money enough
+I shall send for you all."
+
+"Ah no, my dear boy! I am too old, I shall not make another move."
+
+"Very well, then. I myself will come next spring, with two hundred
+thousand of my friends."
+
+"That's it! Two hundred thousand pumpkins! A fine idea! Fine hopes!--Oh!
+here is Signorina Missipipi."
+
+Signorina Missipipi--thus the family called Maria in happy moments--came
+in, dignified and serious. "Good-morning, uncle. Will you say
+'Missipipi' for me?"
+
+Her father lifted her up and placed her on Uncle Piero's bed. Smiling
+the old man drew her towards him, and set her across his legs.
+
+"Come here, miss. Did you sleep well? And did the doll sleep well, and
+the mule also? The mule was not there? So much the better. Yes, yes! I
+am coming to 'Missipipi.' Am I not to have a kiss first? Only one? Then
+I shall have to say:
+
+    Proud shade of the river
+    Of Missipipi,
+    Don't play you are bashful,
+    But of kisses give three."
+
+Maria listened as if hearing the lines for the first time, then she
+burst out laughing, and began to jump and clap her hands, while her
+uncle laughed with her.
+
+"Papa," said she, suddenly becoming serious. "Why are you crying? Have
+you been naughty?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They expected many friends would call that day, many who had promised to
+come and say good-bye to Franco before his departure for Milan. Luisa
+performed the miracle of lighting the stove in Siberia, as Uncle Piero
+called the hall, and at one time Donna Ester, the two Pauls from Loggio,
+Paolin and Paolon, and Professor Gilardoni were all there together. Then
+presently Signora Peppina arrived, most unexpectedly, for she had never
+been to see them since the search. "Oh, my dear _Sura_ Luisa! Oh, my
+dear Don Franco! Is it true you are really going away?" Paolin began to
+shift uneasily on his chair, for he feared Signora Peppina had been sent
+by her husband to see who had and who had not rallied round the
+suspected man, in this house that was under the ban. He longed to go
+away at once with his Paolon, but Paolon was more dense. "How shall I
+manage now, with this idiot, who doesn't understand anything?" thought
+Paolin, and without looking at Paolon he said to him, in an undertone:
+"Let us go, _Paol_, let us go!" It did indeed take Paolon some time to
+get it through his head, but finally he arose and went out with Paolin,
+getting his lesson on the stairs.
+
+Franco had the same thought as Paolin, and greeted Signora Peppina
+coldly. The poor woman could have wept, for she dearly loved his wife,
+and held Franco himself in great esteem, but she understood his
+aversion, and in her heart excused it. Franco was relieved when Veronica
+came to call him.
+
+He was wanted in the kitchen garden. He went there and found Signor
+Giacomo Puttini and Don Giuseppe Costabarbieri, who had come to say
+good-bye, but having been informed by Paolin and Paolon of the presence
+of Signora Peppina, they did not wish her to see them. Even the soil of
+the kitchen-garden scorched their feet. While the little lean hero was
+puffing and parrying Franco's invitation to go up to the house, the
+little fat hero was rolling his head and his small eyes like a
+good-natured blackbird, looking from the hills to the lake, almost from
+a habit of suspicion. He caught sight of a boat coming from Porlezza.
+Who knows? Might it not be bringing the Imperial and Royal Commissary?
+Although the boat was still at some distance, he immediately began to
+cast about for an excuse for going away, and determined to take Puttini
+to call upon the Receiver, as they would be sure of not finding Signora
+Peppina at home.
+
+Having lavished many hasty and muttered compliments on Franco, the two
+old hares trotted off, with bowed heads, leaving Franco in the
+kitchen-garden. Meanwhile the boat Don Giuseppe had seen had come
+rapidly forward, and was now passing in front of the garden, at some
+distance from the shore. It contained a lady and a gentleman. The
+gentleman rose and saluted Franco in a loud voice: "How are you, Don
+Franco? Long life to you!" The lady waved her handkerchief. The
+Pasottis! Franco saluted with his hat.
+
+The Pasottis in Valsolda in January! Why had they come? And that
+greeting! Pasotti salute him thus? Pasotti, who had never been near them
+since the search? What did all this mean? Franco, greatly perplexed,
+went up to the house and told the news. All were amazed, and most of all
+Signora Peppina. "How? Do you really mean it? The Signor Controller of
+all men! And Signora Barborin also, poor little woman!" The event was
+excitedly discussed. Some thought one thing, some another. In about five
+minutes Pasotti came noisily in, dragging Signora Barborin behind him.
+She was laden with shawls and bundles and half dead with the cold. The
+poor creature could only keep repeating: "Two hours in the boat! Two
+hours in the boat!"
+
+"Whatever brought you to Valsolda in this weather, _Sura_ Pasotti?"
+Peppina screamed at her. "Oh, gracious! She don't understand anything,
+poor little woman!" And though Luisa and Ester shouted the same question
+in her ear, and though she opened her mouth wide, the poor deaf woman
+could not understand, and continued to answer at random: "Have I had my
+dinner? If I will dine here?" At last Pasotti came to the rescue, and
+told them that he and his wife had been called away by urgent business
+in October, and the last washing had been left undone. His wife had been
+worrying him for some time about that blessed washing, and finally he
+had made up his mind to satisfy her by coming. Then Donna Ester turned
+to Signora Pasotti, going through the pantomime of washing.
+
+Barborin glanced at her husband, who had his eyes fixed upon her, and
+answered: "Yes, yes. The washing! The washing!" That glance, the order
+she read in the Controller's eyes, made Luisa suspect a mystery
+underlying all this. This mystery and the inexplicable effusiveness of
+Pasotti suggested another suspicion to her. What if they had come on her
+account and Franco's? What if the Professor's trip to Lodi had something
+to do with bringing about this unexpected visit? She would have liked to
+consult the Professor and beg him to remain until the Pasottis had left,
+but then, how could she speak to him without Franco's noticing it?
+Meanwhile Donna Ester was saying good-bye, and Gilardoni was graciously
+permitted to escort her home.
+
+The Pasottis could not go up to Albogasio Superiore until the farmer,
+who had been notified at once, should have had time to prepare and heat
+at least one room for their reception. The Controller at once proposed a
+three-handed game of _tarocchi_ with the Engineer and Franco. Then
+Signora Peppina went away, and Barborin asked Luisa to allow her to
+withdraw for a few minutes, and begged her hostess to accompany her. As
+soon as he was alone with her friend in the alcove room, she glanced all
+about her with wide, frightened eyes, and then whispered: "We are not
+here on account of the washing, you know. Not on account of the
+washing!" Luisa questioned her silently with face and gestures, for had
+she spoken in a loud voice they would have heard her in the hall. This
+time Signora Pasotti understood, and replied that she did not know
+anything, that her husband had not told her anything, that he had
+ordered her to corroborate the story about the washing, but that really
+she was not in the least anxious about it. Then Luisa took a piece of
+paper and wrote: "What do you suspect?" Signora Pasotti read the words,
+and then began a most complicated pantomime: shakings of the head,
+rollings of the eyes, sighs, imploring glances towards the ceiling. It
+was as if a mighty struggle were going on within her between hope and
+fear. At last she uttered an "Ah?" seized the pen, and wrote below
+Luisa's question:
+
+"The Marchesa!"
+
+Then she dropped the pen and stood looking at her friend. "She is at
+Lodi," she said in an undertone. "The Controller has been to Lodi. So
+there you have it!" And she hastened back to the hall, faring to arouse
+her husband's suspicions.
+
+The game over, Pasotti went to one of the windows, saying something in a
+loud voice about the effect of the twilight, and called Franco to him.
+"You must come and see me this evening," he said softly. "I have
+something to say to you." Franco sought to excuse himself. He was
+starting the next morning for Milan, leaving his family for some time;
+he could hardly spend this last evening away from home. Pasotti answered
+that it was absolutely necessary. "It concerns your journey to-morrow!"
+said he.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"It concerns your journey to-morrow!" As soon as the Pasottis had left
+for Albogasio Superiore, Franco repeated the conversation to his wife.
+He had been much upset by it. So Pasotti knew! He would not have been so
+mysterious had he not been alluding to the journey to Turin, and Franco
+was greatly vexed to think that Pasotti was aware of this. But how had
+he found out? Perhaps the friend in Turin had been indiscreet. And now
+what did Pasotti want of him? Was another blow perhaps about to be
+struck by the police? But Pasotti was not the man to come and warn him.
+And all that hypocritical amiability? Perhaps they did not wish him to
+go to Turin, did not wish him to find an easier path, to free himself
+and his family from poverty, from commissaries and gendarmes. He thought
+and thought, and finally decided this must be the reason. In her heart
+Luisa greatly doubted it. She feared something else; but she also was
+persuaded Pasotti knew about Turin, and this upset all her suppositions.
+After all, the only way was to go and find out.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Franco went at eight o'clock and Pasotti received him with the most
+effusive cordiality, and apologised for his wife's absence, she having
+already gone to bed. Before opening the conversation he insisted that
+Franco should take a glass of S. Colombano, and a piece of _panettone_.
+With the wine and the cake Franco was obliged to swallow, much against
+his will, many declarations of friendship, and the most exalted eulogies
+upon his wife, his uncle, and himself. The glass and the plate being at
+last empty, the mellifluous rogue showed himself disposed to come to
+business.
+
+They were seated facing each other at a small table. Pasotti, leaning
+back comfortably in his chair, held a red and yellow silk handkerchief
+in his hands, with which he played constantly.
+
+"Well," said he, "as I told you, my dear Franco, the matter concerns
+your journey to-morrow. I heard it said to-day at your house that you
+are going away on business. Now it remains to be seen whether I am not
+bringing you still more important business than that which calls you to
+Milan."
+
+Franco remained silent, surprised by this unexpected preamble. Pasotti
+continued, his eyes fixed on the handkerchief which he never ceased
+handling.
+
+"Of course, my good friend Don Franco Maironi knows that if I touch upon
+intimate and delicate questions it is because I have a serious reason
+for doing so; because I feel it my duty, and because I am authorised to
+do so."
+
+The hands became still, the shining and cunning eyes were raised to
+Franco's distrustful and troubled eyes.
+
+"It concerns both your present and your future, my dear Franco."
+
+Having uttered these words, Pasotti resolutely laid aside the
+handkerchief. Resting his arms and his clasped hands on the little
+table, he went to the heart of the matter, keeping his eyes fixed upon
+Franco, who now, in his turn, leaning back in his chair, returned the
+gaze, his face pale, his attitude one of hostile defiance.
+
+"You must know that the old friendship I bear your family has long been
+urging me to do something to put an end to a most painful quarrel. Your
+good father, Don Alessandro!--What a heart of gold!--How fond he was of
+me!" (Franco was aware that his father had once threatened Pasotti with
+his cane, for meddling overmuch in his family affairs.) "Never mind!
+Having learned that your grandmother was at Lodi, I said to myself last
+Sunday: After all the trouble the Maironis have had, perhaps this is the
+right moment. Let us go and make the attempt. And I went."
+
+There was a pause. Franco was quivering. What a mediator he had had! And
+who had asked for mediation?
+
+"I must tell you," Pasotti went on, "that I feel satisfied. Your
+grandmother has her own opinions, and she has reached an age when
+opinions are not easily changed; you know her character; she is very
+firm, but after all, she is not heartless. She loves you, you know, and
+she suffers. There is a continuous struggle going on within her, between
+her sentiments and her principles; or, one might rather say, between her
+sentiments and her resentment. Poor Marchesa, it is painful to see how
+she suffers! But anyhow she is beginning to yield. Of course we must not
+expect too much. She is indeed yielding, but not sufficiently to break
+what sustains her--her principles I mean, especially her political
+principles."
+
+Franco's eyes, his twitching jaws, a quivering of his whole person said
+to Pasotti: "Woe to you if you touch upon that point!" Pasotti stopped.
+Perhaps he was thinking of the cane of the late Don Alessandro.
+
+"I understand your feelings," he continued. "Do you think I don't? I eat
+the government's bread, and must keep what I feel shut up in my heart,
+but, nevertheless, I am with you. I sigh for the moment when certain
+colours shall replace certain others. But your grandmother holds
+different opinions, and there is nothing for it but to take her as she
+is. If we want to arrive at an understanding we must take her as she is.
+You may seek to oppose her as I myself did, but----"
+
+"All this talk appears to me perfectly useless," Franco exclaimed,
+rising.
+
+"Wait!" Pasotti added. "The affair may not prove as disagreeable as you
+think! Sit down and listen."
+
+But Franco would not hear of resuming his seat.
+
+"Out with it, then!" said he, his voice ringing impatiently.
+
+"First of all your grandmother is prepared to recognise your
+marriage----"
+
+"How kind!" Franco put in.
+
+"Wait!----and to make you a suitable allowance: from what I heard I
+should think of from six to eight thousand _svanziche_ a year. Not bad,
+eh?"
+
+"Go on."
+
+"Be patient! There is nothing humiliating in all this. Had there been a
+single humiliating condition I should not have mentioned the matter to
+you. Your grandmother wishes you to have an occupation, and also desires
+that you give a certain guarantee not to take part in political doings.
+Now there is a decorous way of combining these two points, as you
+yourself will be obliged to recognise, although I tell you plainly that
+I had proposed a different course to your grandmother. My idea was that
+she should place you at the head of her affairs. You would have had
+enough to do to keep you from thinking of anything else. However, your
+grandmother's idea is good also. I know fine young fellows like
+yourself, who think as you do, and who are in the judicial service. It
+is a most independent and respectable calling. A word from you and you
+will find yourself an auditor of the court."
+
+"I?" Franco burst out. "I? No, my dear Pasotti! No! They don't send the
+police into my house--be quiet!--they don't brutally dismiss from
+service an honest man, whose only crime is that he is my wife's
+uncle,--be quiet, I tell you!--they don't seek every possible means of
+reducing my family and myself to the verge of starvation to-day, that
+they may offer us filthy bread to-morrow! No, my man, no! Do your worst!
+By God! I am not to be trapped by any one through hunger! Tell my
+grandmother so, you----you----you----"
+
+Pasotti's nature certainly had much that was feline; he was rapacious,
+cunning, prudent, a flatterer, quick to feign, but also subject to fits
+of rage. He had continued to interrupt Maironi's outpouring with
+protests which became ever more violent, and at this last invective,
+forseeing the approach of a deluge of accusations which were all the
+more exasperating because he could guess their character, he also
+started to his feet.
+
+"Stop!" said he. "What do you mean by all this?"
+
+"Good-night!" cried Franco, who had seized his hat. But Pasotti had no
+intention of letting him go thus. "One moment!" said he, bringing his
+fist down swiftly and repeatedly on the little table. "You people are
+deluding yourselves! You hope great things from that will; but it is not
+a will at all, it is simply a bit of waste paper, the ravings of a
+madman!"
+
+Franco, who had already reached the door, stopped short, stunned by the
+blow. "What will?" said he.
+
+"Come now!" Pasotti retorted, half coldly, half mockingly. "We
+understand each other perfectly!"
+
+A flash of rage once more set Franco's blood on fire. "We do not!" he
+cried. "Out with it! Speak! What do you know of any will?"
+
+"Ah! Now we are getting on famously!" Pasotti said with ironical
+sweetness.
+
+Franco could have strangled him.
+
+"Didn't I tell you I have been to Lodi? So of course I know!"
+
+Franco, quite beside himself, protested that he was entirely in the
+dark.
+
+"Of course," Pasotti continued, with greater irony than before. "It is
+for me to enlighten the gentleman! Then I will inform you that Professor
+Gilardoni, who is by no means the friend you believe him to be, went to
+Lodi at the end of December, and presented himself before the Marchesa
+with a legally worthless copy of a will which he pretends was made by
+your late grandfather. This will appoints you, Don Franco, residuary
+legatee, in terms attrociously insulting to both the wife and the son of
+the testator. So now you know. Indeed, Signor Gilardoni did not betray
+his trust, but stated that he had come on his own responsibility, and
+without your knowledge."
+
+Franco listened, as pale as death, feeling darkness creeping over his
+sight and his soul, mustering all his strength that he might not lose
+his head, but be able to give a fitting answer.
+
+"You are right," said he. "Grandmother is right also. It is Professor
+Gilardoni who has done wrong. He showed me that will three years ago, on
+the night of my marriage. I told him to burn it, and believed he had
+done so. If he did not, he deceived me. If he really went to Lodi on the
+charming errand you describe, he has committed an act of outrageous
+indelicacy and stupidity. You were quite justified in thinking ill of
+us. But mark this! I despise my grandmother's money as heartily as I
+despise the money of the government, and as this lady has the good
+fortune to be the mother of my father, I will never--never, I
+say--although she resort to the most base, the most perfidious means of
+ruining me--never make use of a document that dishonours her. I am too
+much her superior! Go and tell her this in my name, and tell her also to
+withdraw her offers, for I spurn them! Good-night!!"
+
+He left Pasotti in a state of utter amazement, and went his way,
+trembling with over-excitement and rage. He forgot his lantern, and went
+down the hill in the dark, striding along, neither knowing nor caring
+where he placed his feet, and from time to time uttering an ejaculation,
+pouring out that which was seething within him--rage against Gilardoni,
+and accusations against Luisa!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Uncle Piero had gone to bed early, and Luisa was waiting for Franco in
+the little salon with Maria, whom she had kept up that her father might
+see something of her this last night. Poor little Signorina Missipipi
+had very soon grown weary, and had begun to open wide her little mouth,
+and assume a tearful expression, asking in a small and pitiful voice:
+"When is papa coming?" But she possessed a mamma who was unrivalled in
+consoling the afflicted. Now it was some time since Signorina Missipipi
+had owned a pair of whole little shoes: and little shoes, even in
+Valsolda, cost money. Not much money, it is true, but what is to be done
+when you have hardly any? However, this unique mamma was also unrivalled
+in shoeing those who were shoeless. The very day before, Luisa, in
+searching for a piece of rope in the attic, had found a boot which had
+belonged to her grandfather, buried beneath a heap of rubbish, of empty
+boxes and broken chairs. She had put it in water to soften, and had
+borrowed a shoemaker's knife, an awl, and shears. She now took the
+venerable boot, that frightened Maria, and placed it on the table. "Now
+we will recite its funeral oration," said she, with that liveliness she
+could assume at will, and of which even mortal anguish could not rob
+her, if she deemed it necessary to be lively. "But first you must ask
+your great-grandfather's permission to take his boot." She made Maria
+clasp her hands, and recite the following jingle, her eyes comically
+raised to the ceiling.
+
+    Great granddad of mine
+    Who to heav'n did climb,
+    This boot, to you useless
+    Pray give to this princess,
+    Who longs in vain
+    For slippers twain,
+    And throws you a kiss,
+    The pert little Miss,
+    Which she begs you to put
+    On the sole of your foot.
+
+Then followed a somewhat irreverent fancy, one of many such born in
+Luisa's brain--a strange story of the little angel who polishes the
+boots in heaven, and who one day let great-grandfather's boot fall to
+the earth while attempting to grab a bit of golden bread he had been
+forbidden to touch. Maria brightened visibly; she laughed and
+interrupted her mother with a hundred questions concerning the other
+boot that was still in heaven. What would her great-grandfather do with
+that? Her mother replied that he would apply it from behind to the
+Emperor of Austria, and push him out of heaven with it, if he chanced to
+meet him there.
+
+Just at that moment Franco entered.
+
+Luisa at once saw signs of storm on his brow and in his eyes.
+
+"Well?" she questioned. Franco answered shortly: "Put Maria to bed."
+
+Luisa observed that she had kept the child up waiting for him, that she
+might spend a little time with him. "I tell you to put her to bed!"
+Franco said, so harshly that Maria began to cry. Luisa flushed, but was
+silent. Lighting a candle she took the child in her arms and silently
+held her up that her father might give her a kiss. He did so coldly, and
+then Luisa carried her away. Franco did not follow her. The sight of the
+boot irritated him, and he threw it upon the floor. Then he sat down,
+planted his elbows on the table, and rested his head in his hands.
+
+The bitter thought that Luisa was Gilardoni's accomplice had immediately
+flashed into his mind while Pasotti was talking, and with it there came
+also the recollection of that "Why be silent?" of that "Enough!" and of
+the child's story. He felt as if he had a whirlwind within him, in which
+this idea was being continually caught up and whirled away, to reappear
+again farther down, ever nearer the heart.
+
+"Well?" Luisa once more asked, as she entered the room. Franco looked at
+her a moment in silence, scrutinising her closely. Then he rose and
+seized her hands. "Tell me if you know anything?" said he. She guessed
+his meaning, but that look and manner offended her. "What do you mean?"
+she exclaimed, her face aflame. "Why do you ask in that way?" "Ah! you
+do know!" cried Franco flinging away her hands, and raising his arms
+with a despairing gesture.
+
+She foresaw what was coming--his suspicion of her complicity with
+Gilardoni, her denial, and the mortal irremediable offence Franco would
+be offering her if, in his wrath, he refused to trust her word, and she
+clasped her hands in terror. "No, Franco! No, Franco!" she murmured
+softly, and threw her arms about his neck, striving to close his lips
+with kisses. But he misunderstood her, believed she was seeking
+forgiveness, and pushed her aside. "I know! Yes, I know!" she cried,
+once more casting herself passionately upon his breast. "But I found out
+afterwards, when it was already done, and I was as indignant as you are,
+even more indignant!" But Franco was too anxious to give vent to his
+feelings, too anxious to offend. "How can I know you are speaking the
+truth?" he exclaimed. She started back with a cry, and then once more
+coming a step nearer, she held out her arms to him. "No, no!" she
+entreated in agony, "Tell me you believe me! Tell me so now, for if you
+do not say so, you don't know, you can't realise what will happen!"
+
+"What is it I can't realise?"
+
+"You don't know me as I am, for though I may love you still, I can never
+again be a wife to you, and though I may suffer deeply, I shall never
+change, never again. Do you realise what that means, _never again_?"
+
+He drew her slender, trembling figure towards him, pressed her hands as
+if to crush them, and said, in a stifled voice: "I will believe you!
+Indeed I will believe you!" But Luisa, gazing at him through her tears,
+was not satisfied. "I _will_ believe you?" she said. "I _will_ believe
+you?"
+
+"I do believe you, I do believe you!"
+
+Indeed he did believe her; but where there is anger there is always
+pride as well. He did not wish to surrender entirely, and at once, and
+his tone was rather condescending than convinced. Both were silent,
+holding each other's hands, and then with a slow, almost imperceptible
+movement they began to draw apart. It was Luisa who at last gently drew
+away completely. She felt this silence must be broken; he could find no
+glowing words, and cold words she would not speak, so she began to tell
+him how she had heard of the unfortunate journey to Lodi from Gilardoni
+himself. Seated at the table opposite her husband, she spoke in a calm
+voice that was not precisely cold, but rather grieved. While she was
+relating the Professor's disclosures Franco again took fire, and often
+interrupted her. "And did you not say that to him?--And did you not say
+this to him?--Did you tell him he was a fool?--Did you not call him an
+ass?" At first Luisa ignored these exclamations, but finally she
+protested. She had already said that Gilardoni's blunder had filled her
+with indignation, but now it would almost seem as if her husband doubted
+this. Franco was reduced to unwilling silence.
+
+Her story finished, he once more stormed against that blockhead of a
+philosopher, and Luisa was moved to take his part. After all he was
+their friend; he had indeed made a terrible mistake, but with the best
+of intentions. Where were all Franco's maxims about charity, and
+forgiving injuries, if he was not willing to forgive one whose only wish
+had been to benefit him? And here thoughts came to her which she did not
+utter. She reflected that Franco was ready enough to forgive great
+things when there was glory and sometimes even folly in forgiving, while
+he would not now forgive a slight offence when there were the best of
+reasons for doing so. When she spoke of charity Franco became
+exasperated; he did not venture to say he felt he did not deserve a
+similar attack, but returned the blow somewhat roughly. "Ah! Indeed!" he
+exclaimed, with a reticence that was full of insinuations. "So you
+defend him! Oh, of course!"
+
+Luisa's shoulders twitched nervously, but she held her peace.
+
+"And why did you not speak!" Franco continued. "Why did you not tell me
+everything at once?"
+
+"Because when I reproached Gilardoni he entreated me not to tell.
+Besides, I thought--and I was perfectly correct--that the thing being
+done, it was useless to cause you such great annoyance. The last day of
+the year, when you were so angry, I wished to tell you, to relate all
+Gilardoni had confided to me. Do you remember? But you absolutely
+refused to listen. I did not insist, especially as Gilardoni had told
+your grandmother we knew nothing about the matter."
+
+"She did not believe him. Naturally!"
+
+"And what good would it have done if I had spoken? As it is, Pasotti
+must have seen plainly that you knew nothing."
+
+Franco did not answer. Then Luisa asked him to repeat the conversation
+to her, and she listened to his recital with breathless attention. She
+guessed, her intuition sharpened by hatred, that if Franco had accepted
+the proffered position, a further condition would have been imposed:
+separation from her uncle, from an official who had been dismissed from
+service for political reasons. "Certainly," she said, "she would have
+demanded this also. _Canaille!_" Her husband started, as if he also had
+been cut to the quick by that lash. "Steady," said he. "Be careful of
+your expressions! In the first place, that is only a supposition of
+yours, and then----"
+
+"Only a supposition? And how about the rest? How about the cowardly
+action she proposed to you?"
+
+Franco, who had answered Pasotti with such violence, now answered his
+wife weakly.
+
+"Yes, yes, yes! But after all----"
+
+It was her turn to be violent now. The idea that his grandmother should
+dare propose that they forsake the uncle drove her nearly out of her
+mind. "You will at least acknowledge this," she cried, "that she
+deserves no mercy? My God! And to think that will still exists!"
+
+"Oh!" Franco exclaimed. "Are we to begin over again?"
+
+"_Let us begin over again!_ Have you any right to demand that I shall
+neither think nor feel save in such a way as is pleasing to you? Did I
+obey you I should be cowardly, I should deserve to become a slave. And I
+will be neither cowardly nor a slave!"
+
+The rebel he had suspected, even felt at times lurking behind the loving
+woman, the creature possessed of an intellect intensely proud, and
+stronger than love, whom he had never succeeded in conquering
+completely, now stood before him, quivering in the consciousness of her
+rebellion.
+
+"Well, well!" said Franco, as if speaking to himself, "so you would be
+cowardly, would be a slave? Do you at least reflect that I am going away
+to-morrow?"
+
+"Do not go! Stay here! Carry out your grandfather's wishes. Remember
+what you told me concerning the origin of the Maironi wealth. Give it
+all back to the Ospitale Maggiore. See that justice is done!"
+
+"No," Franco retorted. "These are idle dreams. The end does not justify
+the means. The real end with you is to strike my grandmother. This talk
+of the Ospitale is simply a means of justifying the blow. No, I will
+never make use of that will. I declared as much to Pasotti, in such
+strong language that should I ever change, I should deserve to be spit
+upon. I shall certainly leave to-morrow."
+
+A long silence followed, then the dialogue was once more resumed, but
+the two voices were cold and sad as if now some dead thing lay in the
+heart of either.
+
+"Do you realise," said Franco, "that I should be dishonouring my own
+father?"
+
+"In what way?"
+
+"In the first place by the outrageous nature of the terms in which the
+document is couched, and then by implying my father's complicity in the
+suppression of the will. But then you don't understand these matters.
+And, after all, what do you care?"
+
+"But there is no need to speak of suppression. It is quite possible the
+will was never found."
+
+Another silence. Even the tallow candle that was burning on the table
+had a lugubrious look. Luisa rose, picked up the great-grandfather's
+boot, and prepared to begin her work. Franco went to the window and
+pressed his forehead against the glass. He remained there some time,
+absorbed in contemplation of the shadows of night. Presently he said
+softly, without turning his head:
+
+"Never, never has your soul been wholly mine."
+
+No answer.
+
+Then he faced about and asked his wife in a tone entirely free from
+anger, and with that ineffable gentleness which was his in moments of
+moral or physical depression, if, since the very beginning of their
+union, he had ever failed her in any way. An almost inaudible "No" was
+the answer.
+
+"Then perhaps you did not love me as I believed?"
+
+"No, no, no!"
+
+Franco was not sure he had understood correctly, and repeated:
+
+"You did not love me?"
+
+"Yes, yes! So dearly!"
+
+His spirits began to revive, and a shade of severity returned to his
+voice.
+
+"Then," said he, "why did you not give me your whole soul?"
+
+She was silent. She had been trying in vain to resume her work, but her
+hands trembled.
+
+And now this terrible question! Should she answer or not? By answering,
+by revealing for the first time things that lay buried at the bottom of
+her heart, she would only be widening the painful gap between them; but
+could she be dishonest? She was silent so long that at last Franco said:
+"You will not speak?" Then she mustered all her strength and spoke.
+
+"It is true, my soul has never been wholly yours." She trembled as she
+spoke the words, and Franco held his breath.
+
+"I have always felt myself different from you, separated from you,"
+Luisa continued, "in that sentiment which should govern all others. You
+hold the religious views my mother held. Religion was to my mother, as
+it is to you, a union of certain beliefs, ceremonies, and precepts,
+inspired and governed by the love of God. I have always shrunk from this
+conception of religion; no matter how hard I may have tried, I have
+never been able to feel this love of an invisible and incomprehensible
+Being; I have never been able to understand what good could come of
+forcing my reason to accept things I do not understand. Nevertheless I
+felt an ardent longing to direct my life towards what was good,
+according to a disinterested ideal. Moreover, by her words and example
+my mother had embued me with such a strong sense of my duty towards God
+and the Church, that my doubts caused me great pain, and I struggled
+hard against them. My mother was a saint. Every act of her life was in
+harmony with her faith. This also influenced me strongly. And then I
+knew that the greatest sorrow of her life had been my father's unbelief.
+I met you, loved you, married you, and I was strengthened in my resolve
+to become as you are in matters of religion, because I believed you were
+as my mother was. Then, little by little, I discovered you are not like
+my mother. Shall I go on?"
+
+"Yes, to the end!"
+
+"I discovered you were kindness itself, that you had the warmest, most
+generous heart in the world, but that your faith and your religious
+practices rendered these treasures almost useless. You did not strive!
+You were satisfied to love me, the child, Italy, your flowers, your
+music, the beauty of the lake and the mountains. In this you followed
+your heart. As to a higher ideal, it was sufficient for you to believe
+and to pray. Without this faith and without these prayers you would have
+given the fire that is in your soul to that which is surely true, which
+is surely just in this world, you would have felt the same need to be
+doing that I feel. You are well aware, are you not, what I could have
+wished you to be in certain things? For example, who feels patriotism
+more keenly than you do? Surely no one. Well, I could have wished to see
+you endeavour to serve your country seriously, and according to your
+strength. Now you are indeed going to Piedmont, but your principal
+reason for doing so is that we have hardly anything left to live upon."
+
+Franco, frowning angrily, made an impatient gesture of protest. "If you
+wish it I will stop," Luisa said humbly.
+
+"No, no. Go on! Let us have the whole of it! It will be better!"
+
+He spoke so excitedly, so angrily, that Luisa was silent, and it was
+only after a second, "Go on!" that she continued.
+
+"Without going to Piedmont there would have been enough to do here in
+Valsolda, in Val Porlezza, in Vall' Intelvi; what V. does on the Lake of
+Como, communicating with different people, keeping the right spirit
+alive, preparing all that must be prepared against the coming of war,
+if, indeed, it ever comes. I used to tell you so, but you would not be
+convinced, you saw so many difficulties in the way. This sluggishness
+fostered my repugnance to your conception of religion, and my tendency
+towards another conception. For I also felt myself intensely religious.
+The conception of religion which was gradually shaping itself clearly in
+my mind was, in substance, as follows: God really exists, and is
+powerful and wise as you believe, but He is perfectly indifferent to our
+adoration of Him, and prayers to Him. What He demands of us is what we
+may learn from the heart he has formed for each one of us, from the
+conscience He has given us, from the surroundings in which He has placed
+us. He wishes us to love all that is good, to hate all that is evil, to
+labour with all our strength, according to this love and this hatred,
+and to occupy ourselves exclusively with the things of this world, with
+things we can comprehend, that can be felt! Now you will understand what
+my idea really is of my duty, of our duty, in the face of all injustice,
+all tyranny!"
+
+The further she went in this definition, this exposure of her own views,
+the greater was the relief she experienced in so doing, in being
+perfectly sincere at last, in frankly taking her stand on her own firm
+ground, and gradually all indignation against her husband died down
+within her, and in her heart there arose a tender pity for him.
+
+"Indeed," she added, "if it had been only this trouble about your
+grandmother, do you think I would not rather have sacrificed my own
+opinion a thousand times, rather than grieve you? There was something
+else underlying that. Now you know all. Now I have laid my bare soul in
+your hands."
+
+She read dull pain and hostile coldness on her husband's brow. She rose
+and moved towards him very slowly, with clasped hands, gazing at him,
+seeking his eyes, which avoided hers, and then halted on the way,
+repulsed by some higher power, for he had neither spoken nor made a
+gesture.
+
+"Franco!" she entreated, "can you no longer love me?"
+
+He did not answer.
+
+"Franco! Franco!" she cried, stretching out her clasped hands. Then she
+started to move forward. He drew back with a rapid movement. Thus they
+stood in silence, face to face, for half a minute that seemed an
+eternity.
+
+Franco's lips were pressed tight together, and she could hear his quick
+breathing. It was he who broke the silence.
+
+"What you have said is exactly what you feel?"
+
+"Yes!"
+
+His hands were clutching the back of a chair. He shook it violently,
+saying bitterly: "Enough!" Luisa looked at him with inexpressible
+sadness, and murmured: "Enough?" He answered angrily, "Enough, enough,
+enough!" After a moment's silence he went on harshly: "I may be
+indolent, sluggish, selfish, anything you like, but I am not a boy to be
+soothed by a couple of caresses after all you have said to me. Enough, I
+tell you!"
+
+"Oh, Franco! I know I have hurt you, but it has cost me so much, having
+to hurt you! Can't you take me kindly?"
+
+"Ah, take you kindly, indeed! You wish to be free to inflict any wound,
+and then expect to be taken kindly! You are superior to every one else!
+You judge, you pass sentence, you alone understand what God wishes and
+what He does not wish? But this at least I will not have! Say whatever
+you like about me, but let those things you do not understand alone. You
+had better be working on your boot!"
+
+He was determined to see only pride in his wife, while his own anger was
+born almost wholly of pride, of outraged self-esteem; it was an impure
+anger which darkened his brain and his heart. Both husband and wife
+would have acknowledged the justice of any other accusation sooner than
+that of pride.
+
+She silently resumed her seat and tried to resume her work as well, but
+she handled the tools nervously without really knowing what she was
+doing. Franco went into the hall, banging the door behind him.
+
+It was very cold in the darkness of the hall which had been unoccupied
+since five o'clock, but Franco did not notice this. He threw himself
+upon the sofa, giving himself up entirely to his grief, to his anger, to
+an easy and violent mental defence of himself against his wife. As Luisa
+had rebelled against God and against himself--though indeed she had made
+a distinction--he now found it convenient to make common cause in his
+heart with that other mute and terrible One whom she had offended. At
+first astonishment, bitterness, rage, good reasons and bad, formed a
+whirling tempest in his brain. Then he found relief for his feelings in
+imagining Luisa's repentance, her prayers for forgiveness, and his own
+magnanimous answers.
+
+Suddenly he heard Maria screaming and crying. He rose to go and see what
+had happened, but he was without a light. He waited a moment thinking
+Luisa would go out, but he did not hear her move, and the child was
+screaming louder than ever. Very softly he went towards the parlour, and
+looked in through the glass door.
+
+Luisa had hidden her face in her arms, which were crossed on the table,
+and the light of the candle revealed only her beautiful dark hair.
+Franco felt his anger cooling, he opened the door, and called softly,
+his tone still gently severe: "Luisa, Maria is crying." Luisa raised her
+face, which was very pale, took the candle and went out without a word.
+Her husband followed her. They found the child sitting up in bed bathed
+in tears; a dream had frightened her. When she saw her father she
+stretched out her arms to him. "Not go away, papa, not go away!" she
+entreated, her voice big with tears. Franco pressed her in his arms,
+covered her with kisses, soothed her, and then put her back into her
+little bed. But she clung tightly to one of her father's hands, and
+could not be prevailed upon to let it go.
+
+Luisa took another candle from the table and tried to light it, but her
+hands shook so she did not succeed. "Are you not coming to bed?" Franco
+asked. "No," she said, trembling more violently than ever. Franco
+thought he divined a supposition, a fear in her, and was offended. "Oh,
+you can come!" he said angrily. Luisa lighted her candle and said, more
+calmly, that she must work on the little shoes. She went out, and only
+on the threshold did she murmur: "Good-night." "Good-night," Franco
+answered coldly. For a moment he thought he would undress, but he
+presently relinquished his intention because his wife was still up, and
+at work. He spread back the coverlet and lay down in his clothes, on the
+side of the bed next to the child, that he might hold Maria's little
+hand--she had not yet gone to sleep--and put out the light.
+
+What sweetness in the touch of that dear, tiny hand! Franco felt her the
+little child she was, his daughter, the innocent, loving baby, and then
+he imagined her a woman, her heart all his, united to him in every
+thought, every sentiment, and he fancied the little hand that pressed
+his was striving to compensate him for all that Luisa had made him
+suffer, and was saying: "Papa, you and I are united for ever!" Good God!
+he shuddered at the thought that Luisa might wish to bring her up in her
+own way of thinking, and that he, being far away, would be powerless to
+prevent this. He prayed to God, to the Virgin Mary, to the saintly
+grandmother Teresa, to his own mother, who, he was well aware, had been
+so pure and so pious. "Watch over my Maria, watch over her!" he
+murmured. He offered to sacrifice his whole being, his earthly
+happiness, his health, even life itself, that Maria might be saved from
+error.
+
+"Papa," said the child, "a kiss."
+
+He leaned out of bed, and, bending down, sought the dear little face in
+the dark, and told her to be quiet, to go to sleep. She was silent for a
+moment, and then called--
+
+"Papa!"
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"I haven't got the mule under my pillow, you know, papa."
+
+"No, no, dear, but now go to sleep."
+
+"Yes, papa, I am going to sleep."
+
+Once more she was silent for a moment and then said--
+
+"Is mamma in bed, papa?"
+
+"No, dear."
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because she is making little shoes for you."
+
+"Shall I wear shoes in heaven also, like great grandfather?"
+
+"Hush! Go to sleep."
+
+"Tell me a story, papa."
+
+He tried, but he had neither Luisa's imagination nor her skill, and soon
+came to a stand-still. "Oh, papa!" said Maria, in a compassionate tone,
+"you don't know how to tell stories."
+
+This was humiliating. "Listen, listen!" he answered, and began reciting
+a ballad by Carrer, always going back to the beginning after the first
+four lines, which were all he knew of it, his expression becoming ever
+more mysterious, his voice ever fainter, until it was only an
+inarticulate murmur, and thus at last Signorina Missipipi, lulled by the
+rhythm of the lines, passed with them into the world of dreams. When he
+heard her sleeping peacefully it seemed to him he was so cruel to leave
+her, he felt himself such a traitor, that he wavered in his resolve. He
+at once controlled himself, however.
+
+The sweet dialogue with the child had greatly soothed him and raised his
+spirits. He began to be conscious of an imperative duty towards his wife
+which would henceforth be incumbent upon him. He must show himself a
+man, both in will and in deed, and this at the cost of any sacrifice. He
+must defend his faith against her by his works, by leaving home, by
+labour and suffering; and then--and then--if Almighty God should see
+fit to allow the cannon to roar for Italy, he must push ever to the
+front; and let the Austrian ball come, if it but teach her to weep and
+pray at last!
+
+He remembered that he had not said his evening prayers. Poor Franco, he
+had never been able to say them in bed without dropping off to sleep
+before they were half finished. Feeling comparatively calm, and
+reflecting that it might perhaps be some time before Luisa came to bed,
+he feared he should go to sleep, and what would she say if she found him
+sleeping? He rose very softly and said his prayers; then he lighted the
+candle and sat down at the writing-desk, intending to read, but
+presently he fell asleep in his chair.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He was aroused by the beat of Veronica's wooden shoes on the stairs.
+Luisa was not yet come. Soon, however, she entered the room, and
+expressed no surprise at seeing Franco already up.
+
+"It is four o'clock," she said. "If you intend to start, you have only
+half an hour's time." He must leave home at half-past four, to be sure
+of reaching Menaggio in time for the first boat coming from Colico.
+Instead of going to Como and thence to Milan as had been officially
+announced, Franco was to leave the steamer at Argegno and go up to S.
+Fedele, coming down into Switzerland by Val Mara or by Orimento and
+Monte Generoso.
+
+Franco signed to his wife to be quiet, that she might not disturb Maria.
+Then with another silent gesture he called her to him.
+
+"I am going," he said. "Last night I was harsh with you. I beg you to
+forgive me. I should have answered you differently, even though I was in
+the right. You know my temperament. Forgive me! At least, do not let us
+part in anger."
+
+"For my part I feel none," Luisa answered gently, as one who finds it
+easy to condescend, because he feels himself superior.
+
+The final preparations were made in silence; breakfast was eaten in
+silence. Franco went to embrace the uncle to whom he had not said
+good-bye the night before; then he returned to the alcove-room alone,
+and kneeling beside the little bed, touched with his lips a tiny hand
+that was hanging over the edge. Upon returning to the parlour he found
+Luisa in shawl and hat, and asked if she were going to Porlezza also.
+Yes, she was going. Everything was ready. Luisa had the handbag, the
+valise was in the boat, and Ismaele was waiting on the stairs of the
+boathouse, one foot on the step, the other on the prow of the boat.
+
+Veronica accompanied the travellers with a light, and wished her master
+a pleasant journey, with a crestfallen expression, for she had an
+inkling of the quarrel.
+
+Two minutes later and the heavy boat, pushed forward by Ismaele's slow
+and steady "travelling strokes," was passing beneath the wall of the
+kitchen-garden. Franco put his head out of the little window. The
+rose-bushes, the caper-bushes, and the aloes hanging from the wall,
+passed slowly in the pale light of this starry but moonless night; then
+the orange-trees, the medlar, and the pine slipped by. Good-bye!
+Good-bye! They passed the cemetery, the _Zocca di Maine_, the narrow
+lane where he had so often walked with Maria, the Tavorell. Franco no
+longer watched. The light that usually burned in the little cabin was
+not there to-night, and he could not see his wife, who was silent.
+
+"Are you going to Porlezza about those papers of the notary's, or simply
+to accompany me?" he said.
+
+"This too!" Luisa murmured sadly. "I tried to be strictly honest with
+you, and you took offence. You ask my forgiveness, and now you say such
+things as this to me. I see that one cannot be faithful to truth without
+great, great suffering. But patience! I have chosen that path now. You
+will know soon whether I really came on your account or not. Do not
+humble me by making me say so now."
+
+"_Do not humble me!_" Franco exclaimed. "I do not understand. We are
+indeed different in so many ways. My God, how different we are! You are
+always so completely mistress of yourself, you can always express your
+thoughts so exactly, they are always so clear, so cool."
+
+Luisa murmured: "Yes, we are different."
+
+Neither spoke again until they reached Cressogno. When they were near
+the Marchesa's villa Luisa began to talk, and tried to keep the
+conversation alive until they should have left the villa behind. She
+asked him to repeat to her the itinerary that had been arranged for his
+journey, and suggested that he take only his handbag with him, for the
+valise would be a burden from Argegno on. She had already spoken to
+Ismaele about it, and he had promised to carry it to Lugano and send it
+on to Turin from that place. Meanwhile they had passed his grandmother's
+villa.
+
+Now the sanctuary of Caravina came in sight. Twice during their
+courtship Franco and Luisa had met under those olive-trees, at the
+_festa_ of Caravina, on the eighth of September. And now the dear little
+church in its grove of olives, beneath the awful rocks of the peak of
+Cressogno, was left behind also. Farewell, little church. Farewell to
+the past!
+
+"Remember," Franco said, almost harshly, "that Maria is to say her
+prayers every morning and evening. It is an order I give you."
+
+"I should have made her do so without this order," Luisa answered. "I
+know Maria does not belong to me alone."
+
+Then they were silent all the way to Porlezza. Coming forth from the
+tranquil bay of Valsolda, seeing other valleys, other horizons, the lake
+just rippled by the first breath of dawn, the two travellers were drawn
+towards other thoughts, were led to think, without knowing why, of the
+uncertain future, which must bring great events, of which prophetic
+whisperings already circulated mysteriously through the heavy Austrian
+silence. Some one called out from the shore at Porlezza, and Ismaele
+began to row rapidly. It was the driver, Toni Pollin, who was shouting
+to them to make haste if they wished to catch the steamer at Menaggio.
+
+The last moments had come. Franco let down the window in the little
+door, and looked at the man as if he were most anxious not to lose a
+word.
+
+When they touched the shore he turned to his wife. "Are you going to get
+out also?" "If you wish it," she said. They alighted. A cabriolet stood
+ready on the shore. "By the way," said Luisa, "you will find some lunch
+in your bag." They embraced, exchanging a cold and rapid kiss in the
+presence of three or four curious bystanders "Try and make Maria forgive
+me for leaving her thus," said Franco, and they were his last words, for
+Toni Pollin was hurrying them: "Quick, quick!" The horse started off at
+a brisk trot, and the cabriolet rattled noisily, with a great snapping
+of the whip, through the dark and narrow street of Porlezza.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Franco was on board the _Falcon_ between Campo and Argegno when he
+thought of his lunch. He opened the bag, and his heart gave a bound as
+he perceived a letter bearing as an address the words "For You" in his
+wife's hand. He tore it open eagerly, and read as follows--
+
+"If you only knew what I am experiencing in my soul, how I am suffering,
+how sorely I am tempted to lay aside the little shoes--in the making of
+which I am far less skilful than you think--and to go to you, taking
+back all I have said, you would not be so harsh with me. I must have
+sinned deeply against truth, that the first steps I now take in
+following her are so difficult, so bitter.
+
+"You think me proud, and I believed myself very sensitive, but now I
+feel that your humiliating words alone could not have kept me from
+hastening to you. What holds me back is a Voice within me, a Voice
+stronger than I am, which commands me to sacrifice everything save my
+consciousness of truth.
+
+"Ah! I hope this sacrifice may bring its reward! I hope that one day
+there may be a perfect union between our two souls.
+
+"I am going into the garden to gather for you that brave little rose we
+admired together the other day, the little rose that has challenged and
+conquered January. Do you remember how many obstacles lay between us the
+first time I received a flower from your hand? I was not yet in love
+with you, but you already dreamt of winning me. Now it is I who hope to
+win you!"
+
+Franco came near letting the steamer pass Argegno without moving from
+his seat.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+FOR BREAD, FOR ITALY, FOR GOD
+
+
+Eight months later, in September, 1855, Franco was occupying a miserable
+attic in Via Barbaroux, Turin. In February he had obtained the post of
+translator for the _Opinione_, with a monthly salary of eighty-five
+lire. Later he began to write the parliamentary reports, and his salary
+was raised to a hundred lire. Dina, the manager of the paper, was fond
+of him, and procured him extra work outside the office, thus adding
+twenty-five or thirty lire to his earnings. Franco lived on sixty lire a
+month. The rest went to Lugano to be carried thence to Oria by the
+faithful hands of Ismaele. To live a month on sixty lire took more
+courage than Franco himself had believed he possessed. The hours at the
+office, the translating--a laborious task for one full of scruples and
+literary timidity--weighed more heavily upon him than the privations;
+moreover he felt even sixty lire was too large a sum, and reproached
+himself for not being able to do with less.
+
+He had attached himself to six other refugees, some of whom were
+Lombards, others Venetians. They ate together, walked together,
+conversed together. With the exception of Franco and a young man from
+Udine, all the others were between thirty and forty years of age. All
+were extremely poor, and not one of them had ever consented to accept a
+penny from the Piedmontese Government as a subsidy. The young man from
+Udine came of a rich family, of Austrian tendencies, and received not a
+penny from home. He was a good flutist, gave four or five lessons a
+week, and played in the small orchestras of second-rate theatres. A
+notary from Padua was copyist in Boggio's office. A lawyer from Caprino,
+Bergamasco, who had seen service at Rome in 1849, was book-keeper at a
+large establishment in Via Nuovo, where umbrellas and walking-sticks
+were sold, and for this reason his friends had dubbed him "the knave of
+clubs." A fourth, a Milanese, had been through the campaign of 1848 as
+one of Carlo Alberto's scouts. His present occupation was to quarrel
+continually with "the knave of clubs," for reasons of provincial
+rivalry, to teach fencing in a couple of boarding schools, and in winter
+to play the piano behind a mysterious curtain in halls where polkas were
+danced at a penny each. The others lived on insufficient allowances from
+their families. All except Franco were unmarried, and all were gay. They
+called themselves, and were called by others, the "seven wise men," and
+in their wisdom they dominated Turin from the elevated positions of
+seven attics, scattered all over the city from Borgo San Dalmazzo to
+Piazza Milano.
+
+Franco's was the most wretched of these attics, the rent being only
+seven lire a month. No member of this band had any services whatsoever
+performed for them, save the notary from Padua, for whom the
+doorkeeper's sister carried water to his attic, and had he not been the
+calm philosopher he was, the merciless teasings of his friends would
+have made him regret Marga's devotion. They all cleaned their own boots.
+The most skilful with his hands was Franco, and it was his lot to sew on
+his friends' buttons when they did not wish to humble themselves by
+applying to the lawyer and his Marga, who, nevertheless, often had her
+hands full, "poor, overworked woman that I am!" The young man from Udine
+had a sweetheart, a little _tota_[N] from the first booth in Piazza
+Castello on the corner of Po, but he was jealous, and would not allow
+her to sew on buttons for any one. The friends took their revenge by
+calling her "the puppet," because she sold puppets and dolls. However,
+thanks to "the puppet," he was the only member of the band whose clothes
+were always in order, and whose cravat was always tied in a graceful
+knot. They took their meals at a restaurant in Vanchiglia, which they
+had christened "Stomach-ache Tavern," and where they had lunch and
+dinner for thirty lire a month.
+
+Their only extravagance was the _bicierin_, a mixture of coffee, milk,
+and chocolate, costing only fifteen centimes. They drank this in the
+morning, the Venetians at the Cafe Alfieri, the others at Cafe Florio.
+All except Franco, however. He went without the _bicierin_ and the
+_torcett_, a cake costing a penny that went with it, in order that he
+might lay by enough for a little trip to Lugano, and a trifling present
+for Maria. In the winter they walked under the porticoes of Po, the
+"wise ones" in the vicinity of the University, while the more
+light-minded frequented the porticoes on the San Francesco side. After
+their walk they would go to a coffee-house, where the one whose turn it
+was would sip a cup of coffee, while the others read the newspapers and
+looted the sugar basin. Once a week, to satisfy the "knave of clubs,"
+they would betake themselves to a den in Via Bertola, where the purest
+and most exquisite Giambava wine was to be had.
+
+The flutist from Udine of course went to the theatres, and by his means
+some of the others went _gratis_ from time to time, but always to the
+play, and usually either to the Rossini or Gerbino theatres. For Franco
+to be obliged to pass the posters at the Regio and the other opera
+houses was a far greater trial than to be obliged to clean his own boots
+and lunch off two square inches of omelet that was so thin it would have
+served admirably to observe the spots on the sun through. He had had the
+good fortune to make the acquaintance of a certain C., a Venetian, who
+was secretary at the department of Public Works, and who presented him
+to the family of a most distinguished major in the sanitary corps, also
+Venetian, and who owned a piano and was in the habit of receiving a few
+friends of an evening, on which occasions he would regale them with a
+cup of most excellent coffee of a quality almost unique in the Turin of
+those days. When, for one reason or another, the "seven wise men" did
+not spend the evening together, Franco would go to this gentleman's
+house in Piazza Milano, to make music, to converse on art with the
+daughters, or to discuss politics with his hostess, a fierce Venetian
+patriot, a woman of great talents, and possessed of a strenuous soul,
+who had not only borne heroically all the hardships and the bitterness
+of exile, but had sustained the courage of her husband, whose first
+steps had been most painful and difficult; for those precious, honest
+old numskulls of the inflexible Piedmontese administration had actually
+obliged this already famous professor of the University of Padua to
+submit to an examination, before they would admit him into the army as
+surgeon.[O]
+
+The correspondence between Turin and Oria did not indeed reflect the
+true state of mind of Franco and Luisa; it ran on smoothly and
+affectionately enough, but with great caution and reserve on either
+side. Luisa had expected that Franco would answer her note, and resume
+the great discussion. As he never mentioned either the note or what had
+passed between them that last night, she risked an allusion. It was
+allowed to pass unheeded. As a matter of fact Franco had several times
+started to write with the intention of confuting his wife's opinions.
+Before beginning he always felt himself strong, and was convinced that
+with a little thought he could easily discover crushing arguments, and,
+indeed, arguments he believed to be such would rush to his pen, but when
+they were set down in writing, he would at once be forced to recognise
+their inadequacy. Though surprised and grieved he would make another
+attempt, but always with the same result. Nevertheless his wife was
+certainly in error; this he never for a moment doubted, and there must
+be a way of demonstrating it to her. He must study. But what, and how?
+He consulted a priest to whom he had been to confession soon after his
+arrival in Turin. This priest, a little misshapen old man, who was fiery
+and very learned, invited him to his house in Piazza Paisana, and began
+to help him enthusiastically, suggesting a number of books, some for his
+own perusal, and others to be sent to his wife. He was a learned
+Orientalist, and an enthusiastic Thomist, and had taken a great fancy to
+Franco, of whose genius and culture he had formed an opinion which was
+perhaps exaggeratedly favourable. At one time he was on the point of
+proposing to him the study of Hebrew, and indeed insisted upon his
+reading St. Thomas. He went so far as to sketch for Franco the outlines
+of a letter to his wife, with a list of the arguments he must expound.
+Franco had at once fallen in love with the enthusiastic little old man,
+who, moreover, had the pure expression of a saint. He began to study St.
+Thomas with great ardour, but did not persevere long. He felt he was
+embarking upon a sea without beginning and without end, across which he
+was unable to steer a straight course. The scholastic scheme of
+treatment, that sameness in the form of argument for and against, that
+icy Latin, dense with profound thought, and colourless on the surface,
+had successfully routed all his good intentions at the end of three
+days. Of the arguments contained in the sketch for the letter he
+understood only a small part. He got the priest to explain them to him,
+understood somewhat better, and prepared to open a campaign with them,
+but found himself as much encumbered by them as was David by the armour
+of Saul. They weighed upon him, he could not handle them, he felt they
+were not his own and never would be. No, he could not present himself
+before his wife with Professor G.'s priestly hat and tunic, a
+theological lance in his hand, and entrenched behind a shield of
+metaphysics. He recognised that he was not born to philosophise in any
+way; he was destitute of the very power of strictly logical reasoning,
+for indeed his glowing heart, rich in tenderness and indignation, would
+too often interfere, speaking for or against, according to its own
+passions. One evening at Casa C. he was playing the _andante_ of
+Beethoven's twenty-eighth sonata, when, with quivering nerves and
+flashing eyes, he said in a low tone: "Ah! This, this, this!" He was
+reflecting that no theologian, no doctor, could communicate the
+religious sentiment as Beethoven does. As he played on he put his whole
+soul into the music, and longed for Luisa's presence that he might play
+this divine _andante_ to her, that he might unite himself to her,
+praying thus in an ineffable spasm of the spirit. But he did not reflect
+that Luisa who, moreover, was far less sensitive to music than he was,
+would probably have attributed another meaning to the _andante_, that of
+the painful conflict between our affections and our convictions.
+
+He went to G., returned the works of St. Thomas and confessed his utter
+incapacity in such humble and feeling language, that after a few moments
+of frowning and uneasy silence, the old priest forgave him. "There,
+there, there!" said he, resignedly taking back the first volume of the
+_Somma_. "Commend yourself to our Lord, and let us hope He Himself will
+act." Thus ended Franco's theological studies.
+
+All this pondering of his wife's opinions and his own, and above all
+the Professor's advice: "Commend yourself to our Lord," were not
+fruitless. He began to see that on some points Luisa was not mistaken.
+When she had reproached him for not leading a life in conformity with
+his faith, he had been more offended by this than by anything else. Now
+a generous impulse carried him to the other extreme; he judged himself
+severely, exaggerated his faults of idleness, of anger, even of greed,
+and held himself responsible for Luisa's intellectual aberrations. He
+felt a desire to tell her this, to humble himself before her, to
+separate his own cause from the cause of God. When he obtained his
+position on the _Opinione_, and regulated his own expenses in such a
+manner as to be able to make an allowance to his family, his wife wrote
+that this allowance was entirely too large in proportion to his
+earnings, and that the thought of him, living in Turin on sixty lire a
+month, gave her own food a bitter taste. He answered--and this was not
+strictly true--that in the first place, he never went hungry, but that
+he would, indeed, be glad to fast, because he felt an intense desire to
+change his way of life, to expiate his past idleness, including the
+hours he had wasted on his flowers and music, to expiate all past
+softness, all past weaknesses, including the weakness for dainty dishes
+and fine wines. He added that he had asked God's forgiveness for this
+past life, and that he felt he must ask her forgiveness also. In fact
+the Paduan, with whom Franco had become very intimate, and to whom he
+read this passage in his letter as a sort of confirmation of previous
+confessions, exclaimed: "That bit sounds for all the world like the
+oration of Manasseh, king of Judaea!"
+
+Luisa wrote most affectionately, but with less effusion. Franco's
+silence on the painful subject displeased her, and she felt it would be
+unwise on her part to allude to it in the face of a silence so
+obstinate.
+
+His good intentions concerning labour and self-sacrifice moved her
+deeply; when she read that confession of great wickedness, followed by
+the prayer for pardon to God and to herself, she smiled and kissed the
+letter, feeling that this was an act of submission, and a humble
+acceptance of the censure which had at first only irritated him. Poor
+Franco! These were the impulses of his noble, generous nature! But would
+they last? She answered at once, and if her emotion was apparent in her
+answer, so also was her smile, which displeased Franco. At the end he
+found these words: "When I read your many self-accusations I thought,
+with remorse, of the accusations I brought against you, one sad night,
+and I felt that you also had been thinking of them as you wrote,
+although neither in this letter nor in any other are they alluded to. I
+deeply regret those accusations, my own Franco, but how I wish we could
+speak together as true friends, concerning those other questions of
+which I think so much here in my solitude!"
+
+Luisa's wish remained ungratified. In answering Franco did not even
+touch on this point; indeed his next letter was somewhat cool, so Luisa
+did not again revert to the subject. Only once, when speaking of Maria,
+did she write: "If you could only see how Maria recites her 'Our Father'
+every night and morning, and how well she behaves at Mass, on Sundays,
+you would be satisfied."
+
+He replied: "As to what you tell me concerning Maria's religious
+exercises, I am satisfied, and I thank you!"
+
+Both Luisa and Franco wrote almost every day, and sent their letters
+once a week. Ismaele went to the post at Lugano every Tuesday, taking
+the wife's letters and bringing back the husband's. In June Maria had
+the measles, and in August Uncle Piero lost the sight of his left eye,
+almost without warning, and for some time was greatly distressed. During
+these two periods the letters from Oria were more frequent, but in
+September the weekly correspondence was resumed. From the bundle of
+letters I take the last that passed between Franco and Luisa, on the eve
+of those events which overwhelmed them at the end of September.
+
+
+                                 LUISA TO FRANCO.
+
+                                   "_September 14, 1856._
+
+     "I do not think Pasotti will ever come to our house again. I am
+     sorry on poor Barborin's account, for I fear she will not be
+     able to come either, but I do not regret what I did.
+
+     "He has known perfectly well for some time that you are in
+     Turin. He even talked of it with the Receiver, so Maria Pon
+     told me. She was in the Romit chapel, and heard them talking on
+     their way down from Albogasio Superiore. When he came here he
+     would always pretend not to know, and would enquire for you
+     with his usual assumption of interest and friendship. To-day he
+     found me alone in the little garden and asked how much longer
+     you would be absent and whether you were in Milan at present. I
+     answered frankly that his question surprised me. He turned
+     pale. 'Why?' said he. 'Because you have been going about saying
+     that Franco is in an entirely different place.' He became
+     confused and protested angrily. 'You may protest as much as you
+     like!' I said. 'It is quite useless. You know that. At all
+     events Franco is very well off where he is. You may say as much
+     to whomever you please.' 'You wish to insult me!' he exclaimed.
+     I did not stop to think long, but retorted: 'That is quite
+     possible!' Then he rushed away without saluting me, and looking
+     as black as the ace of spades--that simile suits my present
+     mood! I am sure he will go to Cressogno this evening.
+
+     "Custant has sent us a present of a magnificent tench which he
+     caught this morning, much to the chagrin of Bianconi, who
+     fishes all day long, and never catches anything. He is furious
+     with the impudent tench because they snap their fingers--so to
+     speak--at His Imperial and Royal Majesty of Austria and his
+     Carlascia. 'Poor fellow!' says Signora Peppina. 'He is eating
+     his heart out!'
+
+     "However, he will get over it, he will get over it.
+
+                                                "_September 15._
+
+     "I related the Pasotti episode to Uncle Piero and he was very
+     much annoyed. 'Much good this will do you!' he said. Poor
+     Uncle! One might almost suspect him of being a utilitarian,
+     whereas he is really a philosopher. After all the strongest
+     argument he ever opposes to all my burning indignation against
+     the many ugly things in this world is: 'Worrying won't mend
+     it!'
+
+     "To-day the parish Mass was said at Albogasio Superiore. In
+     coming out of church with Maria I caught a despairing glance
+     from poor Barborin, who evidently had orders to avoid me.
+     However, Ester walked down with us and coming into the house
+     told me privately something I have been expecting to hear. She
+     began by begging me not to laugh, while all the time she was
+     laughing herself. I succeeded in gathering that the Professor,
+     by dint of great perseverance, has overcome her resistance,
+     although Ester still declares she does not know her own mind.
+
+     "'It is his nose!' she said this morning, laughing and hiding
+     her gay little face. Indeed that scandalous nose seems to me to
+     be prospering; it is redder than ever, and grows ever larger!
+
+                                                "_September 18._
+
+     "I have not written for three days, fearing I should not be
+     mistress of my pen, nor be able to confine my thoughts within
+     words which must not exceed certain bounds. Now I feel equal to
+     the task, and so I will set about it. But I must warn you,
+     Franco, that I am not sure of being able to control my feelings
+     all the way through.
+
+     "Well, then, your grandmother's agent came to me on the evening
+     of the fifteenth. As the half-yearly payment of your income is
+     due on the sixteenth, I concluded he had come to bring the five
+     hundred _svanziche_, and so I told him at once that I would go
+     and prepare the receipt for him. Then the most gracious Signor
+     Bellini informed me that my receipt would not be sufficient.
+     'How can that be?' I said. 'It was sufficient on the sixteenth
+     of March.' 'I don't know,' he replied. 'I have my orders.' 'But
+     Franco is not here.' 'I know that.' 'Then what did you come
+     here for?' 'I came to tell you that if Don Franco wishes to
+     draw his money he must present himself at the Signora
+     Marchesa's agency in Brescia.' 'And what if he cannot go to
+     Brescia?' Here Signor Bellini made a gesture that meant, 'That
+     is your affair.' I replied that it was all right, had coffee
+     brought for him, and told him I was anxious to purchase the
+     book-shelves in your old study at Cressogno from the Signora
+     Marchesa. Bellini turned yellow, and sneaked away like our old
+     dog Pato at Casa Rigey when he had been stealing.
+
+     "Most certainly the worthy Pasotti has had a finger in this
+     dirty business.
+
+     "The Prefect of Caravina was here yesterday and told us that
+     Pasotti went to Cressogno on the evening of the fourteenth. He
+     was very late, and reached your grandmother's house while they
+     were saying the rosary, so he had to mumble the prayers with
+     the others, which greatly amused the prefect, for it is his
+     opinion that Pasotti goes to Mass simply because he is an
+     Imperial and Royal pensioner, but that his only prayer is 'the
+     rats' Pater,' whatever that may be. He added that after the
+     others had gone out Pasotti remained in confabulation with your
+     grandmother, and that Bellini was also present. Bellini had
+     arrived that very day from Brescia. He probably brought the
+     money for you.
+
+     "We have enough left to live upon until the money comes from
+     you in October. That is all I wish to say.
+
+     "Maria sends you the cyclamen you will find enclosed. I must
+     also tell you the following incident. You can fancy she notices
+     the state of mind I am in. She often hears me discussing the
+     subject with Uncle Piero. The uncle is always the uncle! In his
+     whole life he has set down as rascals only such contractors as
+     offered him bribes, and another uncle his exact opposite, who,
+     after making use of his nephew for many years, died without
+     leaving him so much as a dried fig. He would never recognise
+     any other rascals, nor will he do so even now. Well, when I am
+     talking with him, Maria always wants to listen. I send her
+     away, but I sometimes fail to notice that she has returned very
+     softly. This morning she began saying her prayers. Oh, Franco!
+     your daughter is indeed very religious in your own way! The
+     last prayer she repeats is a _requiem_ for poor Grandmamma
+     Teresa. 'Mamma,' said she when she had finished, 'I want to
+     recite a _requiem_ for the grandmother in Cressogno also.'
+     Never mind my answer. My words were bitter; perhaps I did
+     wrong; I am even ready to confess I did wrong. Maria looked at
+     me, and said: 'Is the grandmother at Cressogno really wicked?'
+     'Yes.' 'But why does Uncle Piero say she is not really wicked?'
+     'Because Uncle Piero is so very good.' 'Then you are not so
+     very good?' My dear little innocent! I devoured her with
+     kisses, I could not help it! As soon as she was free to speak
+     she began again: 'You will not go to Paradise, you know, if you
+     are not so very good.' Paradise is her one idea. Poor Franco,
+     not to have her with you, you who would be so satisfied with
+     her! You are indeed making a great sacrifice! If it will give
+     you any pleasure I will tell you that the only possibility for
+     me to love God is through this child, for in her God becomes
+     visible and intelligible to me.
+
+     "Good-bye, Franco. I embrace you.
+
+                                                    "LUISA.
+
+     "P. S. I must tell you that I have dismissed Veronica for the
+     first of October. This I did in the first place for reasons of
+     economy, and secondly because I have discovered that she is
+     flirting with a customs-guard. Oh! I almost forgot something
+     else! Half an hour ago Ester came to tell me she has decided to
+     say 'yes,' but she wishes to wait a day longer before seeing
+     the Professor. She has evidently succeeded in swallowing the
+     nose, but has not yet digested it."
+
+                                 FRANCO TO LUISA.
+
+                                    "TURIN, _September 14, 1855_.
+
+     "The 'knave of clubs' is threatened with dismissal by his
+     employer on account of the truly miserable state of his
+     clothes. The 'knave' is indeed given to extravagance, and has
+     not yet learned--_duris in rebus_--to handle a clothes brush,
+     but however that may be, the other 'wise men' have decided not
+     to lunch for a week in order that he may re-clothe himself. Now
+     observe the baseness of the human heart! The 'knave,'
+     overflowing with expressions of gratitude, calmly prepared to
+     go to his own lunch! This, however, we would not stand. So
+     to-day, instead of repairing to Stomach-ache Tavern, we spent
+     half an hour on the banks of the Po, near the Valentino,
+     watching the water flow past. The wise man from Udine had
+     brought his flute with him, because music should not be wanting
+     at an ideal lunch, at which the most Irimalchionian ideas of
+     food and beverages are handed round. He also had with him a
+     letter from his family, containing magnificent proposals for
+     his return to the fold. They even offer him a riding-horse. He
+     says he has written them that they will soon see him come
+     dashing up on one of King Victor Emmanuel's horses. Then the
+     Paduan, who is a wag, said to him with a great assumption of
+     seriousness, "Ah, my hero! So you are beginning to blow your
+     own trumpet as well as play the flute!" The flutist was wild,
+     but presently he calmed down, and played us a nice little tune.
+     The strange part of it all is that none of us felt hungry.
+     However, when the meeting was adjourned, we decided that the
+     'knave's' clothing should be simplified, and that he could get
+     along without the _justicoat_, known in modern parlance as the
+     waistcoat.
+
+     "Ah! We would all gladly do without dinner as well as lunch if
+     we could only cross the Ticino with the King in April, 1856! We
+     talked of this on our way back to the city after the ideal
+     lunch. The Paduan observed that the water is too cold in April
+     and that we had better wait until the end of June. We began to
+     talk about how great Italy will be without the Germans. I
+     assure you we were all enthusiastic, in spite of the emptiness
+     of our stomachs. All except the Paduan of course, but of him I
+     must tell you that if he is reduced almost to the verge of
+     starvation, it is because he will not tolerate the Austrians,
+     and that although he is knocking at the door of forty, he will
+     fight better than some of these young fellows who are now
+     devouring an Austrian for lunch, and two for dinner! He says we
+     shall once more become a cat and dog kingdom. 'Mark this, for
+     example,' he added. 'When the Germans shall have departed, each
+     of us will return to his own home, and woe to you if you come
+     and worry me in Padua!' I can almost fancy I am listening to
+     Uncle Piero, when, at Oria, we used to discuss the greatness
+     and the splendid future of Italy. 'Yes, yes, yes!' he would
+     say, 'Yes, yes, yes! The lake will turn into milk and honey,
+     and the Galbiga will become a Parmesan cheese!'
+
+     "We shall see! We shall see!
+
+
+                                            "_September 21._
+
+     "Your letter has awakened in me a tumult of feelings which
+     cannot be described in writing.
+
+     "Of course my grandmother's action and the indirect malevolence
+     of Pasotti grieve me deeply, but your too violent indignation
+     is far more painful to me. When some one holding my
+     power-of-attorney presents himself at Brescia, payment cannot
+     be refused. It is true that you, a woman, are not expected to
+     know these things. I can also forgive your anger, for in the
+     beginning I myself was not unmoved. Then I asked myself: Why
+     are you indignant? Why are you surprised? Were you not already
+     acquainted with that evil spirit, and have you not already
+     suffered greater insult from it?
+
+     "I am most deeply grieved that you did not succeed in hiding
+     your feelings from Maria; I am deeply moved to learn that you
+     repented of this; and deeply thankful that you love the Lord in
+     the child, and that you have confessed as much to me. Indeed I
+     feel I should not be so overjoyed at this, for the heavens and
+     the earth are always inviting us to love God; He is visible in
+     every ray of light, and His voice may be heard in every truth.
+     But, at least, you are beginning to hear this voice! I have
+     never touched upon this subject in my letters because I feel I
+     am not capable of speaking worthily and efficaciously of it to
+     you. And now I shall let God Himself speak to you through the
+     child, and once more resume my silence. But remember, I am
+     waiting in suspense; I am hoping and praying.
+
+     "How can I express to you what I feel for Maria? Who could
+     describe this emotion, this immense tenderness, this consuming
+     desire to clasp her for a moment, only for one moment, to my
+     heart? Do you believe I shall be able to wait until November?
+     No, no, no! I will write, I will copy, I will do the work of
+     others, but I must come to Lugano sooner! Cover her with kisses
+     for me, and meanwhile, tell her that Papa carries his Maria in
+     his heart always, and that he sends her his blessing. Ask her
+     what she wishes me to bring her and let me know, without
+     thinking too much about my poverty.
+
+     "With my whole soul I embrace you, my Luisa.
+
+                                                "FRANCO."
+
+                      LUISA TO FRANCO. "_September 24, 1855._
+
+     "At last! Ever since you left I have been longing for you to
+     touch upon this question. How did I explain myself that night,
+     in my painful emotion? How did you understand me, in your
+     equally painful emotion? For months and months I have felt the
+     necessity of speaking of this to you, and I have never done so
+     because I lacked courage.
+
+     "You will remember you accused me of pride that night. I
+     implore you to believe that I am not proud. I cannot even
+     understand such an accusation.
+
+     "Your letter gives me the idea that you think I have returned
+     to a belief in God. But did I ever tell you that I do not
+     believe in God? I cannot have told you so, for the whole
+     history of my opinions is engraved upon my mind, and the
+     fright, the distressing thought that I might perhaps no longer
+     be able to believe in God, came to me after you left. I know
+     the day, the very hour. At S. Mamette I had heard them talking
+     of a great dinner your grandmother had given at Brescia, while
+     I could not even procure the food and wine necessary for the
+     diet the doctor--fearing the loss of the right eye--had
+     prescribed for our beloved Uncle. I struggled against these
+     awful shadows, Franco, and I conquered. It is true the victory
+     is due, in a great measure, to Maria. I mean that if all these
+     black clouds hide the existence of Supreme Justice from me, a
+     ray of light from it reaches me through Maria; and this ray of
+     light makes me believe, makes me hope in the Orb. For it would
+     be too horrible if the universe were not governed by justice!
+
+     "That night then, I can only have told you that I understood
+     religion in a different way from you; that prayers and acts of
+     Christian faith did not seem to me essential to the religious
+     idea, but rather love and actions for those who suffer, rather
+     indignation and actions against those who cause suffering!
+
+     "And you wish to resume your silence? No, you must not. You
+     feel weak, you say. Do you feel you yourself are weak, or your
+     _Credo_? Let us reason, let us discuss. Confess that one reason
+     why you who believe, love your beliefs, is because they are
+     comfortably restful to the intellect. You stretch yourselves at
+     your ease in them as in a hammock, suspended in the air by
+     innumerable threads spun by men and fastened by men to many
+     hooks. You are comfortable, and if any one examines or lays his
+     hand upon one only of these threads, you are troubled, and
+     afraid it will snap, because very probably its neighbour will
+     snap also, and after that one, another; and so, to your great
+     fright and pain, your fragile bed will come tumbling down from
+     the sky to the earth. I know this fright and this pain, I know
+     that the satisfaction of walking on solid ground must be
+     purchased at this cost, and therefore I am not deterred by a
+     pity that would be false from discussing with you. But I may
+     be mistaken, and perhaps it may be you who will lift me up, up
+     to your resting place of fragile threads and air. Maria is not
+     equal to this task. If Maria makes me believe in God, it does
+     not follow that she can make me believe in the Church as well.
+     And you yourself believe in the Church above all things.
+     Therefore try to convince me, and I also will listen in
+     suspense, and though I do not pray, at least I can hope,
+     because now my longing for a perfect union with you is stronger
+     than ever before. Now, together with my old affection, I feel a
+     new admiration for you, a new gratitude towards you.
+
+     "Will you take offence at this outpouring of mine? Remember
+     that you must have found a letter from me in your handbag,
+     eight months ago, and that I have waited eight months for an
+     answer!
+
+     "The Professor and Ester now meet at our house as fiances.
+     They, at least, are happy. She goes to church and he does not,
+     and neither of them thinks any more about it than they do about
+     the difference in the colour of their hair. And I believe nine
+     hundred and ninety-nine couples in a thousand do the same."
+
+     "I embrace you. Write me a long, long letter.
+
+                                                  "LUISA."
+
+This letter did not leave Lugano until September 26th, and Franco
+received it on the 27th. On the 29th, at eight o'clock in the morning,
+he received the following telegram, also from Lugano:
+
+     "Child dangerously ill. Come at once.
+
+                                              "UNCLE."
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[N] _Tota_ is Piedmontese for young girl, often used in the sense of
+_grisette_. [_Translator's note._]
+
+[O] It must be remembered that Padua and its university were at that
+time dominated by the Austrians, and that patriotism drove this "already
+famous professor" to give up his position and migrate to free Piedmont.
+[_Translator's note._]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+SIGNORA LUISA, COME HOME!
+
+
+In the early afternoon of the twenty-seventh of September Luisa was
+returning from Porlezza with some documents to copy for the notary. In
+those days the rocks between S. Michele and Porlezza were perfectly
+bare, and destitute of the narrow pathway which now runs across them.
+Luisa had had herself ferried that short distance, and had then walked
+along the lane that, like all those of my little world, both ancient and
+modern, would admit of no other method of travel; that pretty deceitful
+lane, that seeks in every way to avoid leading whither the traveller
+wishes to go. At Cressogno it passes above Villa Maironi, which,
+however, is not visible from the path.
+
+"What if I should meet her?" Luisa thought, her blood boiling. But she
+met no one. On the slope between Cressogno and Campo, the sun beat
+fiercely. When she reached the cool, high valley known as Campo, she sat
+down in the shade of the colossal chestnut-tree that is still alive, the
+last of three or four venerable patriarchs, and looked towards the
+houses of her native Castello, clustered in a circle round a lofty peak
+among those shady crags. She thought of her dead mother, and was glad
+she, at least, was at rest. Presently she heard some one exclaim: "Oh,
+blessed Madonna!" It was Signora Peppina, who was also on her way from
+Cressogno, and who was in despair because neither at S. Mamette, Loggio,
+nor Cressogno had she been able to find any eggs. "Carlo will beat me
+this time! He'll kill me outright, my dear!" She would have liked to go
+on to Puria, but she was half dead with fatigue. What roads! How many
+stones! "When I think of my Milan, my dear!" She sat down on the grass
+beside Luisa, saying many affectionate things to her, and wanted her to
+guess with whom she had been speaking about her, only a few minutes
+before. "With the Signora Marchesa! Certainly! Yes indeed! Oh, my
+dear...." It looked as if Signora Peppina had great things to tell, but
+did not dare do so, and as their presence in her throat was causing her
+discomfort, she was bound to make Luisa draw them out. "What a
+business!" she would exclaim from time to time. "What a business! What
+language! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" But Luisa held her peace. At last the
+other yielded to the terrible tickling in her throat, and poured forth
+her story. She had gone to the Marchesa's cook to borrow some eggs, and
+the Signora Marchesa, hearing her voice, had insisted upon seeing her,
+and had kept her there chattering. In her heart she had felt what she
+believed to be a heavenly inspiration, which prompted her to speak of
+that unhappy family. Perhaps this was the right moment! She must speak
+about Maria, "that precious darling, that sweet little mouse, that dear
+little creature!" But alas! The inspiration had come from the devil and
+not from Heaven! She had begun to speak, had been going to say how
+lovely Maria was, how sweet, and how wonderfully precocious, when that
+ugly old woman interrupted her, looking as black as a thunder-cloud.
+"Say no more about her, let her alone, Signora Bianconi. I am aware she
+is very badly behaved, and indeed one cannot expect her to be
+otherwise!" Then Peppina had tried sounding another note, and had
+touched upon Uncle Piero's misfortune in having lost his eye. "The Lord
+chastises the dishonest, Signora Bianconi." Here Peppina glanced at
+Luisa and regretted her chattering. She began caressing her, reproaching
+herself for having spoken, and entreated her to be calm. Luisa assured
+her that she was perfectly calm, that nothing coming from that source
+could surprise her. But Peppina insisted upon giving her a kiss, and
+then went her way, murmuring a string of "Oh, dear me's!" and haunted by
+a vague suspicion that she had made a mess of it!
+
+Luisa rose and turned to look towards Cressogno, clenching her fists.
+"If I only had a horse-whip!" she thought "If I could only lash her!"
+The idea of a meeting, the old idea that had made her quiver with
+passion four years ago, on the night of her mother's death, had flashed
+across her mind shortly before, as she passed Cressogno, and had once
+more taken violent possession of her, and now made her start suddenly
+downwards. She checked her steps at once, however, and returning slowly,
+went towards S. Mamette, stopping every now and then to think, her brow
+clouded, her lips tightly compressed, seeking to untangle a knot in the
+thread of a scheme she was weaving in her secret heart.
+
+At Casarico she sought out the Professor to offer him an opportunity of
+meeting Ester at her house the next day at two o'clock. As she was
+leaving she asked him if the Maironi documents were still in his
+possession. The Professor, greatly astonished at this question, replied
+that they were, expecting an explanation, but Luisa went away without
+further words. She was anxious to get home, for she could not rely
+either upon Cia or Uncle Piero to look after Maria, and she had little
+confidence in the girl to whom she had given notice. She found Maria
+alone on the church-place, and scolded Veronica. Then she went to her
+room and began a letter to Franco.
+
+She had been writing about five minutes when she heard a gentle tap on
+the window of the adjoining room. That window looked out upon a short
+flight of steps, leading from the square by the church to some stables,
+and thence to a short cut to Albogasio Superiore. Luisa went into the
+little room, and saw behind the iron grating the red and distracted
+countenance of Barborin Pasotti, who motioned to her to be quiet, and
+asked if she had visitors. Upon being reassured, Barborin glanced
+swiftly up and down, and hastily descending the steps entered the house
+in great trepidation.
+
+Poor woman, she was on forbidden ground, and before her loomed the
+spectre of the wrathful Pasotti. Pasotti was in Lugano. "Oh, Lord, yes!
+In Lugano." Having imparted this information to Luisa the unhappy woman
+began to roll her eyes and squirm. Pasotti had gone to Lugano on account
+of the great dinner that was to take place on the morrow--to purchase
+provisions. How? Had Luisa not heard about the dinner? Did she not know
+who was coming? Why! The Signora Marchesa! The Signora Marchesa Maironi!
+Luisa started.
+
+Barborin, misunderstanding the expression of her eyes, thought she read
+a reproach there, and began to cry, her face buried in her hands,
+shaking those two poor black curls, and saying through her fingers that
+she was so distressed about it, so distressed! She would rather have
+lived on bread and water for a year than invite the Marchesa to dinner.
+This dinner was indeed a cross to her, for it took a deal of thought,
+and then there was the trouble of preparing everything, to say nothing
+of Pasotti's awful scoldings, but the worst part of it all was the idea
+of displeasing Luisa. If, at least, it had been a cross she could lay
+at the feet of our Lord, but she could not do that, for it contained too
+much wrath. She had come on purpose to tell her Luisa how distressed she
+was on account of this dinner.
+
+"Forgive me, Luisa!" she said in her hoarse voice, that seemed to come
+out of an ancient and tightly closed spinet. "I really could not prevent
+it, indeed I could not, indeed I could not!"
+
+They were seated side by side on the sofa. Barborin drew a great
+handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it to her face with one hand,
+while with the other she sought Luisa's hand, without turning her head.
+But Luisa rose, and going to the writing-desk, scrawled upon a piece of
+paper: "When is the Marchesa coming? What road will she take?" Barborin
+answered that the dinner was to be at half-past three; that at about
+three the Marchesa would leave her gondola at the landing-stage of the
+Calcinera, where Pasotti was to meet her with four men and the famous
+litter that had belonged to an archbishop of Milan a century ago.
+
+Luisa listened to every detail in silence and with the greatest
+attention. Before leaving, Signora Pasotti said she longed to kiss that
+love of a Maria, but was afraid the child might not know how to keep the
+secret. At this point the good creature plunged her left arm into her
+pocket up to the elbow, and drew out a small tin boat, which she begged
+Luisa to give to her little daughter in the name of another battered
+old craft, whose identity must not be made known. Then she rushed down
+stairs and disappeared.
+
+Luisa returned to her letter to Franco, but having thought a long time,
+pen in hand, she finally put the letter away again without having added
+a word, and drawing the notary's documents towards her, began to copy.
+Her resolution was formed. Fate itself was offering her this meeting
+with the old wretch. She had neither a doubt nor a scruple. The passion
+which had sprung up within her so long ago, which she had caressed and
+fostered, had now gathered that strength which, when it reaches its
+full, transforms the thought into the deed at one blow, and in such a
+manner that all responsibility seems removed from the agent, while in
+reality, it is simply carried back to the first inward movement of
+yielding to temptation.
+
+Yes, on the morrow, either at the landing-stage, on the Calcinera path,
+or on the church-place of the Annunciata, she would stand scornfully
+before the Marchesa, openly declaring war, and advising her to have a
+care, for now all legitimate weapons of defence were to be used against
+her. Yes, she would tell her so, and then she would act, act alone and
+unaided, since Franco would take no steps. If Franco had made promises
+she had not. A little later she wrote a note to the lawyer V. begging
+him to come to her as soon as possible. She wished to learn from him how
+to use the documents in Gilardoni's possession. Then she resumed her
+copying for the notary at Porlezza.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The next day Professor Beniamino arrived at Oria an hour earlier than
+the time fixed by Luisa. After Ester's "yes," the man had become
+transfigured. He seemed much younger than before. The sallowness of his
+skin, now irradiated by a rosy inner light, had entirely disappeared,
+and was only perceptible on his bald head, where Luisa daily expected to
+see the hair begin to grow. He neither walked nor breathed as before.
+But to-day he arrived with a clouded brow.
+
+It was reported at S. Mamette that the physician of Pellio had been
+arrested and taken to Como, and that letters and memoranda had been
+found in his possession which incriminated others, among whom was Don
+Franco Maironi.
+
+"I do not fear for Franco," said Luisa. "As to the rest, my good
+Professor, we will set the physician of Pellio, who is a big fellow and
+weighs pounds and pounds, down in the score the Emperor of Austria will
+have to pay. And now, Professor, I want you to promise me something."
+
+"What do you wish me to promise?"
+
+"I need those famous documents."
+
+"They are at your service."
+
+"Pray note that it is I and not Franco who ask for them."
+
+"Yes, yes. Whatever you do is well done. I will bring you the documents
+to-morrow."
+
+"That is right."
+
+Luisa knitted as she talked, her needles clicking continually, but her
+seeming calm and good spirits did not entirely conceal her inward
+excitement, which had begun on the previous day, had become more intense
+during a sleepless night, and was now steadily increasing as the moment
+for setting out drew nearer. Even in the playful tone of her voice an
+unusual chord seemed to be vibrating. About her hair, which was always
+most carefully dressed, there was a something of disorder, like the
+touch of a light breath brushing gently across her brow.
+
+Ester arrived at a quarter to two, and explained that she had come a
+little earlier because she had heard it thunder. Thunder? Luisa hastened
+to the terrace to examine the sky. It certainly did not look very
+threatening. Above the point of Cressogno and over Galbiga the sky was
+perfectly serene as far as the hills of the Lake of Como. Towards Carona
+it was indeed rather dark, but not so very dark, after all. What if the
+Marchesa should not come on account of the weather? She seized the
+little telescope that was kept in the loggia. There was nothing to be
+seen. Of course; it was still too early. In order to reach the Calcinera
+at three, the Marchesa, with that heavy gondola of hers, must start at
+about half-past two. Luisa went back to the hall, where she found
+Ester, the Professor, and Maria. She would have preferred to have Maria
+remain in the loggia with Uncle Piero, but Signorina Missipipi always
+clung fast to her mother when there were visitors, becoming all eyes and
+ears. Luisa decided that when she was ready to start she would send
+Maria away, meanwhile she would keep her with her. As to the happy
+couple, they were seated apart, and were conversing almost in whispers.
+
+Luisa, who now found it difficult to keep quiet, once more returned to
+the terrace, and looked through the telescope. Her heart gave a bound!
+The gondola was just coming in sight at the Tention.
+
+It was a quarter-past two o'clock.
+
+Some one coming from Albogasio had stopped in the church-place to speak
+to some one coming down the steps at the side of Casa Ribera. They were
+saying: "Signor Pasotti has just gone down with the litter. There was a
+troop of children following."
+
+Now the sky was overcast, even above the point of Cressogno and the
+Galbiga. Only the hills of the Lake of Como were still in the sunshine.
+The terrible wind which accompanies a thunderstorm, and which in
+Valsolda is called the _Caronasco_, was threatening seriously now. Above
+Corona the colour of the clouds was gradually becoming one with the
+colour of the hills. The great cloud over Zocca d'i Ment had become
+dark blue, and the Boglia was also beginning to knit its brows. The
+lake was calm and leaden.
+
+Luisa had decided to start when the gondola should have arrived opposite
+S. Mamette. She now returned to the hall.
+
+Maria had obeyed her mother's orders, and had not moved from the chair
+where Luisa had left her, but noticing that the Professor was speaking
+with animation and at great length to Ester, she had asked:
+
+"Are you telling her a story?"
+
+At this point Luisa entered.
+
+"Yes, dear," said Ester, laughing. "He is telling me a story."
+
+"Oh, tell it to me also! To me also!"
+
+A muffled peal of thunder resounded. "Go, Maria dear," said Ester. "Go
+to your room and pray the Lord not to send a terrible thunderstorm or
+hail."
+
+"Oh, yes, yes! I will pray to the Lord!"
+
+The little one went out, and entered the alcove-room, serious and
+dignified, as if in that moment the safety of the whole Valsolda
+depended upon her prayer. Prayer to her was always a solemn matter; it
+was a point of contact with mystery which always made her assume a grave
+and attentive air, as did also certain tales of enchantment and magic.
+She mounted a chair and said the few prayers she knew, and then assumed
+the attitude she had seen the most pious women of town assume in church,
+and began moving her lips as they did, repeating a wordless prayer.
+Seeing her thus one acquainted with the terrible secret of the next hour
+would have felt that the guardian angel of little children was standing
+beside her at that moment, and admonishing her to pray for something
+besides the vineyards and olive-groves of Valsolda, for something nearer
+to her, something the angel did not name, and she neither knew nor could
+put into words. The onlooker would have felt also that in these, her
+inarticulate whisperings, there was an element of occult tenderness, and
+tragedy, the docile surrender of a sweet soul to the admonitions of its
+guardian angel, to the mysterious will of God.
+
+At half-past two the great lowering clouds above Carona belched forth
+another peal of thunder, to which the other great clouds above Boglia
+and the Zocca d'i Ment immediately responded. Luisa ran out to the
+terrace. The gondola was opposite S. Mamette, and was making straight
+for the Calcinera. She could see quite plainly that the boatmen were
+pulling hard. As Luisa laid aside the telescope the first gust of wind
+swept through the loggia, banging doors and windows. Terrified by a
+feeling that she would be too late, she hastily closed both doors and
+windows, passed swiftly through the hall, seized an umbrella and went
+out, without telling any one she was going, and without closing the
+house-door behind her. She started towards Albogasio Inferiore. Just
+beyond the cemetery, on the spot they call Maine, she met Ismaele.
+
+"Where are you going in such weather, Signora Luisa?"
+
+She answered that she was going to Albogasio, and passed on. When she
+had gone about a hundred paces she remembered that she had not let
+Veronica know she was going out, that she had not told her to close the
+windows in the bedrooms, and look after Maria. She might send word by
+Ismaele. But he had already disappeared round the corner of the
+cemetery. In her heart she felt an impulse to go back, but there was not
+time. The rumbling of the thunder was continuous; great, infrequent
+drops were striking here and there on the maize; gusts of wind swept at
+intervals through the mulberry-trees, forerunners of the whirlwind of
+the _Caronasco_. Luisa opened her umbrella and hastened forward.
+
+A furious downpour overtook her in the dark lanes of Albogasio. But she
+never thought of taking refuge in a doorway, and pushed on undaunted.
+She met a troop of children who were running away from the rain, after
+waiting in vain on the church-place of the Annunciata for the passing of
+the Marchesa in the litter. While she was crossing the short space
+between the town-hall of Albogasio and the church, the wind turned her
+umbrella inside out. She began to run, and reached the strip of ground
+behind the church that overlooks the path leading down to the
+Calcinera. There, protected by the church from the driving rain, she
+righted her umbrella as best she could, and looked over the parapet.
+
+The Annunciata rests upon the summit of a cliff, sparsely covered with
+brambles and wild fig-trees, which rises from the foot of the Boglia and
+juts out over the lake, shutting in the narrow path to Calcinera on the
+west. The strip of ground where Luisa stood runs along that part of the
+cliff's brow. From here she could have followed the course of the boat
+from the waters of Cressogno as far as the landing-stage, but now that
+the rain was pouring down in sheets, a white mist hid all things from
+view. However, unless the Marchesa returned to Cressogno, she must
+certainly pass that way, no matter where she landed, for there, at the
+foot of the cliff, where it juts out with the coast, the narrow stairway
+starts upwards, leading from the Calcinera to the church-place, and this
+is the only way of reaching Albogasio Superiore either from the
+landing-stage below, or from S. Mamette, Casarico, or Cadate.
+
+Presently the violence of the downpour lessened, the dark phantoms of
+the mountains began to stand out against the white background. Luisa
+gazed down at the lake. There was no gondola on the lake, and no litter
+on the path; nothing was to be seen. This troubled her. Was it possible
+that the gondola had returned to Cressogno? The mist cleared rapidly,
+and Cadate became discernible, while at the door of the boathouse of
+the "Palazz" the prow of the gondola appeared, shimmering white in the
+thin, grey mist. Ah, the Marchesa had taken refuge at the "Palazz," and
+Pasotti with his bearers had done the same. The thunderstorm was now
+practically over and the litter would soon appear.
+
+But instead, ten long minutes elapsed. Luisa kept her eyes fixed on the
+point where the path from Cadate turns into the Calcinera. No movement
+of thought was going on within her. Her whole soul was watching and
+waiting, that was all. People passed her on the left going up to
+Albogasio or coming down, but each time she inclined her umbrella so
+that she was hidden from view, so that they might not recognise her,
+thus avoiding greetings and conversations.
+
+At last a group of people appeared at the bend of the path. Luisa could
+distinguish the litter, and behind the litter Pasotti and Don Giuseppe,
+and the Marchesa's boatmen bringing up the rear. Still she did not move,
+but followed the litter with her eyes as it slowly advanced. Presently
+she closed her umbrella, for the rain had almost ceased. Five or six
+children from Albogasio reappeared. She ordered them off sharply. They
+hesitated to obey, but a sudden downpour of rain, unaccompanied by wind
+or thunder, put them to flight. The litter had now reached the foot of
+the steps. Luisa moved forward.
+
+Her eyes glittered coldly, and she held herself very erect. Absorbed in
+one thought, she heeded not at all the pelting rain, which beat upon
+her head and shoulders, which surrounded her with a misty veil and loud
+noise. Perhaps she was glad of this outburst of passion in the elements,
+which was in keeping with the passion within her. She went slowly down,
+clasping the handle of her closed umbrella very tightly, as if it had
+been the handle of a weapon. There is a somewhat sharp bend in the
+stairway, and the bottom is not visible until this bend is reached. Upon
+arriving there she saw the litter had stopped. The two boatmen were
+taking the places of two of the bearers.
+
+Luisa went down as far as the spot where a great walnut-tree spreads its
+branches above the stairs. Here she stopped just as the Marchesa's
+bearers began coming upwards. Everything was as Luisa wished. Pasotti
+and Don Giuseppe, bringing up the rear with open umbrellas, could not
+see her. The bearers, on reaching the spot where she stood, would be
+obliged to stop to let her pass.
+
+As they drew nearer she recognised the two who carried the front of the
+litter; one was Ismaele's brother, the other a cousin of Veronica's.
+When they were within a yard or two of her she ordered them, by an
+imperious gesture, to stop. They obeyed at once, and set the litter
+down, the two other bearers doing the same without knowing why. Pasotti
+raised his umbrella, and seeing Luisa, made a movement of astonishment,
+frowning blackly. Seizing Don Giuseppe, he drew him aside that she
+might pass, never dreaming that the meeting was intentional.
+
+But Luisa did not move. "You did not think of meeting me, did you,
+Signor Pasotti?" she said in a loud voice. The Marchesa stuck her head
+out, caught sight of her, and withdrew it again, saying, with new
+strength in her usually lifeless voice:
+
+"Go on!"
+
+At that moment loud cries rang out from the top of the church-place
+above them. "_Sciora_ Luisa! _Sciora_ Luisa!" Luisa did not hear.
+Pasotti had called angrily to the bearers: "Go on!" and they had resumed
+the poles.
+
+"Go on if you like," said she, resolved to walk along beside the litter.
+"I have only a few words to say."
+
+If Pasotti and the old Marchesa had anticipated tears and supplications
+this fierce glance and ringing voice must now have led them to expect
+something quite different.
+
+"Words at present?" said Pasotti, coming forward almost threateningly.
+
+"_Sciora_ Luisa! _Sciora_ Luisa!" a voice cried close at hand in a tone
+of anguish, while with the cries was mingled the noise of hastening
+steps. But Luisa did not appear to hear anything. "Yes, at present!" she
+said, addressing Pasotti with indescribable haughtiness. "I am generous
+enough to wish to warn this lady that----"
+
+"_Sciora_ Luisa!"
+
+This time she was forced to pause and look round. Three or four women
+were upon her, distraught, dishevelled, sobbing: "Come home at once!
+Come home at once!" These faces, these tears, these voices, detached her
+from her passion, from her purpose, at one blow.
+
+She rushed in among the women, exclaiming: "What is the matter?" and
+they could only repeat, their eyes starting from their heads: "Come
+home, come home at once!"
+
+"But what has happened, you stupid things?"
+
+"The child, the child!"
+
+"Maria? Maria? What is it, what is it?" she shrieked like a mad woman.
+Amidst their sobbing she caught the word _lake_, and uttering a great
+cry, she dashed them out of her path like a wild beast, and rushed up
+the stairs. The women could not keep up with her, but on the
+church-place there were others waiting in spite of the rain, and they
+were also crying and sobbing.
+
+Luisa felt herself growing faint, and fell to the ground on reaching the
+last step.
+
+The women ran to her, many hands seized her and lifted her up. She
+shrieked: "Good God! Is she dead?" Some one answered: "No, no!" "The
+doctor?" she gasped. "The doctor?" Many voices answered that he was
+already there.
+
+Once more she appeared to regain all her energy, and sprang eagerly
+forward. Eight or ten people hastened after her, but only two could keep
+up with her. She flew! At the cemetery she met Ismaele and another man,
+and cried out as soon as she caught sight of them:
+
+"Is she still alive? Is she alive?" Ismaele's companion turned and ran
+back to tell them that the mother was coming, but Ismaele was weeping,
+and could only answer: "Good God! _Sciora_ Luisa!" as he tried to detain
+her. Luisa pushed him wildly aside and rushed on, followed by the
+boatman who had now quite lost his head and was calling out to her as
+she ran: "Perhaps it is nothing! Perhaps it is nothing, after all!" But
+the pelting, ceaseless, even downpour, seemed to be contradicting his
+words with its wail.
+
+Gasping for breath, she reached the square by the church of Oria, and
+had the strength to call out: "Maria! My Maria!" The window of the
+alcove-room was open. She heard Cia crying and Ester chiding her.
+Several people, among them Professor Gilardoni, came out to meet her.
+The Professor, as pale as a ghost, was weeping silently with clasped
+hands. The others whispered: "Courage, there is still hope!" In her
+exhaustion she came near falling. The Professor encircled her waist with
+one arm and drew her up the stairs, which were crowded with people, as
+was also the corridor of the first floor.
+
+As Luisa passed, the Professor almost carrying her, voices laden with
+words of comfort murmured: "Courage! Courage! Who can tell? Who can
+tell?" At the door of the alcove-room she freed herself from the
+Professor's arm, and went in alone.
+
+They had been obliged to light a lamp, because it was already dark in
+the alcove, owing to the rain. Poor, sweet little Maria lay naked upon
+the bed, her eyes half open, and her lips slightly parted. Her face was
+still tinged with pink, but her lips were discoloured and her body was
+deathly pale. The doctor, with Ester's help, was trying to induce
+artificial breathing, alternately raising the tiny arms above the head
+and stretching them along the sides, and compressing the abdomen.
+
+"Doctor! Doctor!" Luisa sobbed.
+
+"We're doing all we can," the doctor answered gravely. She flung herself
+face downwards upon her baby's little icy feet, and covered them with
+wild kisses. Ester began to tremble. "No, no!" the doctor exclaimed.
+"Courage! Courage!" "Help!" shrieked Luisa. The doctor checked her by a
+gesture, and motioned to Ester to pause in her work. He bent over
+Maria's little face, placed his mouth upon hers and having breathed
+deeply several times, raised his head again. "But she is still rosy, she
+is still rosy!" Luisa gasped softly. The doctor sighed gently, struck a
+match and held it close to Maria's lips.
+
+Three or four women who were praying on their knees, rose and approached
+the bed, holding their breath in suspense. The door leading into the
+hall was open, and other faces appeared there, all silent and intent.
+Luisa, kneeling beside the bed, kept her eyes fixed on the flame. A
+voice murmured:
+
+"It quivers!"
+
+Ester, standing very erect behind Luisa, shook her head. The doctor put
+out the match. "Hot flannels," he ordered. Luisa rushed from the room,
+and the doctor once more resumed the movements of the arms. When Luisa
+returned with the hot flannels they began to rub the child's chest and
+bowels, he on one side, she on the other. Presently, noting Luisa's
+pallor, and the distortion of her features, he motioned to a girl to
+take her place. "You must give up," said he, for Luisa had made a
+protesting gesture. "Even I am tired. You cannot go on." Luisa shook her
+head without speaking and continued her work with convulsive energy. The
+doctor silently shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows, and gave
+his place to the girl, ordering Ester to bring more flannel with which
+to cover the child's legs. Ester went out and herself heated the
+flannel, for Veronica, on hearing what had happened, had disappeared and
+was nowhere to be found. In the corridor and on the stairs people were
+discussing the how and where of the event, and as Ester passed all
+inquired: "What news? What news?" Ester made a despairing gesture and
+went on without answering. Then the talk once more flowed on in an
+undertone.
+
+No one knew how long the child had been in the water. While the
+thunderstorm had been raging a certain Toni Gall had happened to be in
+the stables behind Casa Ribera. Reflecting that if the engineer's boat
+was not tied fast enough it would be dashed to pieces against the walls
+of the boathouse, he bounded down the steps, and seeing the door open,
+went in. The boat was being frightfully knocked about, and was drenched
+with the splashing of the waves that broke against the walls. It was
+tossing and writhing among its chains, and had set itself crosswise,
+with the stern knocking against the wall. Opposite the door that opens
+from the road, there runs a gallery from which two flights of steps lead
+down to the water, the first on the side of the prow, the second on the
+side of the stern. Toni Gall went down the second flight to tighten the
+stern chain. There, between the boat and the lowest step, where the
+water is from sixty to seventy centimetres deep, he saw Maria's little
+body. She was floating face downwards, with her back above the water. As
+he drew her out he saw a little tin boat lying on the bottom. He carried
+the child to the house, crying out with his terrible voice, bringing the
+whole town to the spot, and fortunately the doctor also, who happened to
+be in Oria, and then he helped Ester undress the poor little creature,
+who gave no sign of life.
+
+With whom had she been before going down to the lake? Not with Veronica,
+for before Luisa went out Veronica had been seen going into the
+storeroom where the flowerpots were kept, with her customs-guard. Nor
+had she been with Ester and the Professor. Ester had sent her to pray in
+the alcove-room, and had not seen her again. Cia had been sewing and
+Uncle Piero had been writing when they heard Toni Gall's shouts. Maria
+must have gone straight from the alcove-room to the boathouse to sail
+her boat, and as ill-luck would have it, she had found both the house
+door and the door of the boathouse open. It was Toni Gall's opinion that
+she had been in the water several minutes, for she was floating at some
+distance from the spot where the little tin boat lay. Standing in the
+hall where Cia, the engineer, the Professor, and others from the village
+were assembled, he was describing his frightful discovery for the
+hundredth time. All save Uncle Piero were sobbing. Seated on the sofa
+where Ester and the Professor had sat, he seemed turned to stone. He
+shed no tears and spoke never a word. Toni Gall's chattering was
+evidently annoying to him, but he held his peace. His noble countenance
+was rather solemn and grave than distressed. It was as if the shade of
+ancient Destiny had arisen before his eyes. He did not even ask for
+news; it was evident he was without hope. And it was also evident that
+his sorrow was very different from all this nervous, noisy, fleeting
+sorrow that surrounded him. His was the mute, calm grief of the wise and
+the strong.
+
+From the open door of the alcove-room came voices now commanding, now
+questioning, but for an hour and a half no one could have asserted that
+they had heard Luisa's voice. From time to time half-frightened, almost
+happy exclamations were heard. Some one in there had thought they
+perceived a movement, a breath, the glow of life. Then all who were
+outside would press forward. Uncle Piero would turn his face towards the
+door, and only at such moments would his expression become slightly
+troubled. Alas! Each time he saw the others turn slowly away, in
+heartbroken silence. It was past five o'clock now, and as it continued
+to rain the light had begun to fade.
+
+Finally, at half-past five, Luisa's voice was heard. She gave a loud and
+terrible cry, which froze the blood in the veins of all. The doctor's
+voice answered in accents of eager protest. It was whispered that he had
+made a gesture which said plainly: "It is hopeless now, let us desist,"
+but at her cry he had once more renewed his efforts.
+
+The monotonous lament that the fine rain sent in through all the open
+windows made the stillness of the house seem more sepulchral than ever.
+The hall and the corridor were growing dark, and the pale candle-light
+from the alcove-room seemed brilliant by contrast. People began to go
+away silently and on tiptoe, one shadow after another, and presently
+steps and hushed voices and the beat of heavy boots were heard on the
+pavement of the street below. Cia went softly towards her master, and
+asked him in a whisper if he would not eat something. He silenced her
+by an imperious gesture.
+
+After seven o'clock, when all outsiders had left save Toni Gall,
+Ismaele, the Professor, Ester, and three or four women who were in the
+alcove-room, long, low groans, which seemed hardly human, broke the
+silence. The doctor came into the hall. It was now quite dark, and he
+knocked against a chair. "Is the engineer here?" he asked aloud. "Yes,
+sir," Toni Gall replied, and went for a candle. The engineer neither
+spoke nor moved.
+
+Toni Gall soon returned with a candle and Dr. Aliprandi--whom I am happy
+to recall here as a frank and upright man, possessed of a fine intellect
+and a noble heart--approached the sofa where Uncle Piero sat.
+
+"Engineer Ribera," said he with tears in his eyes, "it is time for you
+to do something now."
+
+"For me to do something?" said Uncle Piero, raising his eyes.
+
+"Yes. We must at least try to get her away. You must come and speak a
+word. You are like a father to her. At such moments as these it is a
+father's place to speak."
+
+"Let my master alone," Cia grumbled. "He can't do these things. It would
+just be making him miserable to no purpose."
+
+Now pitying voices and kisses mingled with the groans.
+
+The engineer pressed his clenched fists upon the sofa, and remained
+motionless for a moment, with bowed head. Then he rose, not without
+difficulty, and said to the doctor:
+
+"Must I go alone?"
+
+"Do you wish me to be present?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Very well. Our efforts may be of no avail. I should not wish to force
+her, but we must, at least, make an attempt."
+
+The doctor dismissed the women who were still in the alcove-room; then,
+standing in the doorway, he turned to the engineer and motioned to him
+to come in.
+
+"Donna Luisa," said he gently, "here is your uncle, who is coming to
+beseech you----"
+
+The old man staggered as he came forward, although his face was
+composed. He advanced a few steps and then stopped. Luisa was seated
+upon the bed with her dead baby in her arms, holding her tight, kissing
+her face and neck, and uttering long, heart-rending groans as she
+pressed her lips to the little body.
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," she was saying, with almost a smile of tenderness in
+her voice. "It is your uncle, dear, your uncle, who is coming to see his
+little treasure, his little Maria, his little Missipipi, who loves him
+so much! Yes, yes, yes!"
+
+"Luisa," said Uncle Piero, "you must control yourself. Everything that
+could be done has been done. Now come with me--don't remain here any
+longer--come with me."
+
+"Uncle, Uncle!" cried Luisa, in a voice full of tenderness but without
+looking towards him, while she pressed the little dead body to her
+breast and rocked backwards and forwards. "Come here! Come here to your
+Maria! Come! Come to us, for you are our uncle, our dear uncle! No,
+dear, no, dear! Our uncle will not forsake us."
+
+Uncle Piero shuddered. His grief overwhelmed him for a moment, and
+wrenched a sob from him.
+
+"Let her rest!" he murmured in a stifled voice. She did not appear to
+hear him, and continued: "We will go to our uncle, dear, you and I. Do
+you want to go to him, Maria? Yes, yes! Let us go!" She slid from the
+bed to the floor and went to Uncle Piero. Clutching her sweet, dead
+burden to her breast with one arm, she threw the other about the old
+man's neck, and whispered: "A kiss, a kiss, for your little Missipipi.
+One kiss, only one!"
+
+Uncle Piero bent down and kissed the little face, already sadly ravaged
+by death, wetting it with two great tears.
+
+"Look, look, Uncle!" she said. "Doctor, bring the candle! Yes, yes!
+Don't be cruel, doctor. Look, Uncle! See what a little treasure she is,
+doctor!"
+
+Aliprandi hesitated, and tried to resist her appeals, but in this mad
+grief there was something sacred, something that must be respected. He
+obeyed, and raising the candle, held it close to the tiny corpse, that
+was intensely pitiful with its half-open eyes and dilated pupils, this
+little corpse that had once been Maria, sweet little Missipipi, the old
+man's delight, the smile and the love of the house.
+
+"Look at this tiny breast, Uncle. See how we have abused it, poor
+treasure, how we have hurt it with all our rubbing. It was your mamma,
+Maria darling! Your horrid mamma, and that wicked doctor there."
+
+"Enough!" said the doctor resolutely, setting the candle on the
+writing-desk. "Talk to your child if you will, but not to this one. Talk
+to the one in Heaven."
+
+The effect of his words was terrible. All tenderness vanished from
+Luisa's face. She drew back, frowning fiercely, and pressing her dead
+child closer to her breast. "No!" she cried aloud. "No, not in Heaven!
+She is mine! She is mine! God is wicked! I will not give her to Him!"
+
+She drew ever farther back, back into the alcove, where, standing
+between the great bed and the little one, she once more began uttering
+those low groans which did not seem human. Aliprandi sent the trembling
+old man out of the room. "It will pass! It will pass!" he said. "We must
+have patience. I will stay with her now." Ismaele came into the hall and
+drew the Professor aside.
+
+"Has Signor Don Franco been informed?" he asked.
+
+They consulted the uncle and it was decided that a telegram in Uncle
+Piero's name, and announcing serious illness, should be sent from Lugano
+the next morning, for it was now too late. There was some one else in
+the hall. Poor Barborin Pasotti, who had hastened thither while her
+husband was absent escorting the Marchesa back to Cressogno. She was
+sobbing, and in despair because she had given Maria the little boat. She
+wished to go to Luisa, but the doctor, hearing loud crying, came out and
+begged her to be calm and silent. Barborin went to cry in the loggia.
+The Curate, Don Brazzova, and the Prefect of the Caravina, who had been
+dining at Casa Pasotti, had accompanied Barborin. Later the Curate of
+Castello, Intrioni, arrived, weeping like a child. He was determined to
+go to Luisa in spite of the doctor's protests, and knelt in the centre
+of the room, entreating her to give her baby to the Lord. "Listen,
+Signora Luisa, listen. If you will not give her to God, give her to her
+grandmother Teresa, to your own dear mother who will be so happy to have
+her with her in Heaven."
+
+Luisa was touched, not by his words, but by his grief, and answered
+gently: "Can you not understand that I do not believe in your Heaven? My
+Heaven is here!"
+
+Aliprandi made a gesture of entreaty to the Curate, who went out,
+sobbing.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The doctor left Oria towards midnight with the Professor. The whole
+house was quiet, nor was any voice to be heard in the alcove-room.
+Aliprandi had spent the last two hours in the hall with the Professor
+and Ester, and not a single cry, not a groan, nor any movement had he
+heard. He had gone twice to look in. Luisa was sitting on the edge of
+her bed, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands,
+contemplating the little bed which Aliprandi could not see. This state
+of immobility caused him more anxiety than the state of intense
+excitement that had preceded it. As Ester was going to remain all night
+he advised her to try and rouse her friend, to make her talk and weep.
+
+Some women from the village were to watch with Ester, and Ismaele would
+be there until five o'clock, when he must start for Lugano. Uncle Piero
+had gone to bed.
+
+Aliprandi and the Professor stopped on the square by the church to look
+at the lighted window of the alcove-room, and to listen. Silence.
+"Accursed lake!" the physician exclaimed, taking his companion's arm and
+once more starting forward. He was certainly thinking of the sweet
+little creature the lake had killed when he uttered the words, but in
+his heart there was also a great fear that other troubles might be
+approaching, that the treacherous waters had not yet done their worst;
+and he was overwhelmed with pity for the poor father, who, as yet, knew
+nothing.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+SHADOWS AND DAWN
+
+
+On receiving the telegram Franco at once hastened to the office of the
+_Opinione_, in Via della Rocca. Perceiving his agitation, Dina said:
+"Ah! then you already know?" Franco's blood ran cold, but on hearing
+about the telegram Dina exhibited great surprise. No, no, of that he
+knew nothing. Information had reached him from the Prime Minister that
+the Austrian police had been searching houses and making arrests in
+Vall' Intelvi, and that among the papers of a certain doctor there was
+one in which the name of Don Franco Maironi was mentioned, with
+particulars of a compromising nature. Dina added that at a moment of
+such great anguish for a father, he would refrain from going into an
+explanation of Count Cavour's interest in him; suffice it to say that he
+himself had mentioned Franco to the Count, who had expressed his regret
+that a Lombard gentleman, bearing such a distinguished name, should be
+obliged to live in such straitened and obscure circumstances in Turin.
+Dina believed it was his intention to offer him a position in the
+Foreign Office. Now, of course, Franco must go. But the little girl
+would recover and he must return as soon as possible. Meanwhile he would
+stop at Lugano, would he not? He must, at least, await news there, and
+unless it became absolutely necessary, he must not venture into
+Lombardy. After this affair at Vall' Intelvi it would be extremely
+imprudent. As Franco remained silent, the director once more broached
+the subject before bidding him good-bye. "Be prudent! Don't let them
+take you!" But Franco would not answer.
+
+Ever since the receipt of the telegram Franco had walked the streets of
+Turin like one in a dream, deaf to the noise of his own footsteps,
+unconscious of what he saw, of what he heard, going mechanically
+wherever it was necessary for him to go at this juncture, wherever a
+certain servile and lower faculty of the soul might lead him, that
+faculty composed of reason and of instinct, which is capable of guiding
+us through a labyrinth of city streets, while the mind, concentrated
+upon some problem, some passion, takes no heed of our movements. He sold
+his watch and chain to a watchmaker of Doragrossa for one hundred and
+thirty-five lire, purchased a doll for Maria, stopped at Cafe Alfieri
+and Cafe Florio to leave word for his friends, and was at the station by
+eleven o'clock, although the train for Novara which he was to take did
+not start until half-past eleven. At a quarter-past the Paduan and the
+young man from Udine appeared. They endeavoured to encourage him with
+all sorts of rosy suppositions and unconvincing arguments, but he
+answered never a word and only longed intensely for the moment of
+departure, longed to be alone, to be hastening towards Oria, for he was
+determined to go to Oria, no matter how great the danger might be. He
+entered a third-class carriage, and when the locomotive whistled and the
+train began to move, he heaved a great sigh of relief, and gave himself
+up entirely to thoughts of Maria. But there were too many people about
+him, they were too many, too rough, and too noisy. At Chivasso, feeling
+he could no longer bear their chattering and laughter, he changed into
+an empty second-class carriage, where he began to talk aloud, his eyes
+fixed on the opposite seat.
+
+Good God! why had they not added another word to the telegram? Just one
+word more! At least the name of the illness.
+
+A terrible name flashed across his brain: Croup! He gasped with horror,
+and threw out his arms against this phantom, his muscles suddenly
+stiffening, then, letting his arms sink once more, he heaved a sigh so
+deep that it seemed to expel the very soul, even life itself, from his
+breast. It must indeed be a sudden illness, or Luisa would have written.
+Another name flashed across his mind. Brain-fever! He himself had been
+at the point of death with brain-fever when a child. Oh God! oh God! It
+must be that! God Himself had sent this thought to him. He was shaken
+by tearless sobbing. Maria, his treasure, his love, his joy! Yes,
+indeed it must be that. He could see her gasping, flushed, watched over
+by her mother and the doctor. In a moment he pictured to himself long
+hours spent by her bedside, long hours of anguish, then he pictured the
+birth of hope, heard the first whisper of that sweet voice:
+
+"Papa! my papa!"
+
+He started to his feet, clasping and wringing his hands in a mute
+impulse of prayer. Presently he sank back into his seat again,
+exhausted, and turned unseeing eyes upon the flying landscape, vaguely
+conscious of some connection between the misty Alps looming motionless
+there against the northern horizon and the thought that dominated him,
+looming motionless and torpid within his soul. From time to time the
+jolting of the train would rouse him from his stupor, suggesting the
+idea of a painful race, stimulating his heart to rush, to beat thus
+also. Sometimes he would close his eyes, the better to picture his
+arrival at home. Images would at once rise from his heart to his
+eyelids, but they were always changing, continually moving, and he could
+not hold them for more than a second. Now it was Luisa hastening towards
+him on the stairs; now the uncle holding out his arms to him from the
+door of the hall; now Dr. Aliprandi who was opening the door of the
+alcove-room to him, and saying: "She is better, she is better!" Now in
+the darkened room, filled with shadows, it was Maria herself who gazed
+at him with glassy, feverish eyes.
+
+When he reached Vercelli, he felt as if he were a thousand miles from
+Turin, and once more awoke to a sense of reality. How should he get from
+Lugano to Oria? What route should he take? Should he go openly by the
+lake, showing himself at the Custom-House? And what if they would not
+allow him to proceed because his passport had not been stamped on
+leaving Italy as the law demanded? Or, worse still, what if a warrant of
+arrest be out against him on account of those papers taken from the
+doctor at Pellio? He had better keep to the hills. They might arrest him
+later, but with his knowledge of the neighbourhood, acquired on his many
+hunting expeditions in 1848, he was almost sure of reaching home. This
+wearisome task of planning and arranging absorbed his attention for some
+time, and kept him occupied until he had passed Arona, on the Lake
+Maggiore steamer. He had arranged to reach Lugano in the middle of the
+night. Would there be some one there to meet him? If there were no one
+there, perhaps he might hear something at the Fontana pharmacy, where
+the Valsolda people were in the habit of congregating. If God would only
+permit reassuring news to reach him at Lugano he would postpone decision
+as to his journey to Oria until the morrow. He therefore determined to
+make no plans before reaching Lugano, and he prayed fervently that the
+Almighty would allow this good news to reach him. The sky was overcast;
+the mountains had already assumed their sad autumnal tints; a thin mist
+hung over the lake; the bells of Meina were ringing; on the steamer
+there were but few passengers, and Franco's prayer died in his heart,
+stifled by a crushing sadness, while his eyes unconsciously followed a
+flock of white gulls, that were winging their flight towards the distant
+waters of Laveno, towards that hidden country where his soul was.
+
+It was past seven when he reached Magadino. He climbed Monte Ceneri on
+foot, following the path that leads to the road-mender's house, took a
+carriage at Bironico and reached Lugano shortly after midnight. He
+alighted in the Piazza, near Cafe Terreni. The coffee-house was closed,
+the square was deserted and dark, and silence reigned; even the lake,
+which could be seen gently rising and falling in the gloom, was silent.
+Franco paused a moment on the shore, hoping that some one had come to
+meet him, and would presently appear. He could not see Valsolda, hidden
+behind Monte Bre, but that same water mirrored Oria, and slept in the
+boathouse at home. A wave of peace eased his heart somewhat; he felt he
+was among things familiar to him. Every human voice was hushed, but the
+great, dark hills spoke to him, Monte Caprino and the Zocca d'i Ment
+more than all, for they overlooked Oria. They spoke gently to him,
+suggesting comfort-bringing thoughts. Nineteen hours had passed since
+the telegram was sent. All danger might now be over.
+
+As no one appeared he went to the Fontana pharmacy, and rang the bell.
+For many years he had known that most worthy, cordial, and honest man,
+Signor Carlo Fontana, who has now passed away with the world of long
+ago. Signor Carlo came to the window, and was greatly surprised to see
+Don Franco. He had no news from Oria. He had spent the last two days at
+Tesserete, and had returned only a few hours before, so could tell him
+nothing. His assistant had started for Bellinzona that evening. Franco
+thanked him and walked away in the direction of Villa Ciani, for he was
+now determined to go to Oria at once.
+
+Two routes were open to him. He could either climb the Swiss slope of
+the Boglia from Pregassona, strike the heights of Bolla; cross the Pian
+Biscagno and the great beech wood, coming out at the venerable
+beech-tree of the Madonnina on the brow of the hill which slopes down
+into Lombardy, and then drop down on to Albogasio Superiore and Oria; or
+he could take the easy Gandria road, leading towards the lake, and then
+follow that treacherous and dangerous path which starts from Gandria,
+the last Swiss village, cuts along the face of the almost perpendicular
+cliff, crosses the frontier some hundred metres above the lake, runs on
+to the Origa farm, drops into the ravine of Val Malghera, rising once
+more to the Rooch farm, where it joins the paved way which passes above
+Niscicoree and finally leads down to Oria. The first route was much
+longer and far more difficult, but it afforded a better chance of
+eluding the vigilance of the guards at the frontier. On leaving the
+Fontana pharmacy Franco had been fully determined to go that way, but
+when, on reaching Cassarago, where the roads to Pregassona and to
+Gandria meet, he saw how near the point of Castagnola was, and reflected
+that it would take him less than half an hour to go from Castagnola to
+Gandria, and that another hour and a half would take him from Gandria to
+Oria, the idea of climbing the Boglia, of walking seven or eight hours,
+became intolerable to him. Besides, if he went by the Boglia he would
+arrive in the daytime, and this, of course, would jeopardise his safety.
+He turned his face resolutely towards Castagnola and Gandria. The sky
+was now completely overcast with heavy clouds. Beneath the great
+chestnut trees that line the road to Castagnola, he could not see where
+to set his feet, but how much worse it would have been in the great
+beech forest of the Boglia if Franco had chosen that route. It was just
+as dark in Castagnola, and worse in the labyrinth of narrow lanes at
+Gandria. After wandering backwards and forwards among these lanes for
+some time, always mistaking his way, Franco at last found himself on the
+path leading to the frontier, and stopped to rest. Before starting
+forward again in the impenetrable darkness, before braving the dangers
+of a difficult path, and of a meeting with the Austrian guards, and then
+facing another terrifying step, that of entering his house, of putting
+the first question, of listening to the first answer, he raised his
+heart to God, and concentrated all the powers of his mind upon a
+determination to be strong and calm.
+
+Once more he started forward. Now he must give his whole attention to
+the path, in order not to fall or lose his way. The little fields of
+Gandria soon come to an end. Then wild tracts follow, that jut out over
+the lake, and are covered with a thick growth of low bushes; then come
+ravines with crumbling sides, that go tumbling straight downwards, and
+are half hidden by the bushes. In such places as these Franco was
+obliged to feel his way blindly, to cling first to one branch, then to
+another, plunging his face in among the leaves, that, at least, smelt of
+Valsolda, and dragging himself from bush to bush. He must explore the
+ground with his foot, trembling lest it give way beneath him, and
+seeking for traces of the path. The bundle he carried was small, but
+nevertheless it embarrassed him. The rustling of the foliage as he
+brushed past, irritated him; it seemed as if it must be heard a long way
+off, on the hills and on the lake, in the solemn hush of the night. Then
+he would stop and listen. He could hear only the distant thundering of
+the falls at Rescia, the hooting of owls in the woods over yonder,
+across the lake, and from time to time, far below, a sharp stroke on the
+water, for which he could not account. It took him quite an hour to
+reach the frontier. There, between the Valle del Confine and the Val
+Malghera, the forest had been recently cut down, and the rocky slope was
+bare. This enhanced both the danger of falling, and that of discovery.
+He crossed this tract very slowly, often pausing, sometimes crawling on
+hands and knees. Before reaching Oria he heard the faint dip of oars far
+below. He knew the customs-guards' boat sometimes passed the shore of
+Val Malghera at night. Surely these were the guards. Beneath the
+chestnut trees of Origa he breathed freely once more. There he was
+hidden, and could walk noiselessly on the grass. He descended the
+western slope of Val Malghera and climbed up the other side without
+encountering any obstacles. On approaching Rooch his heart beat
+furiously. Rooch is a sort of outpost of Oria. There the little path
+ends that he had so often followed with Luisa on mild winter afternoons,
+gathering violets and laurel leaves, and talking of the future. He
+remembered that the last time, they had had a discussion concerning the
+most desirable husband for Maria, and the qualities he must possess.
+Franco had hoped he would be a country gentleman, but Luisa had been in
+favour of a civil engineer.
+
+Rooch is a little farmhouse perched above a few small fields which lie
+terraced against the hillside, and form a small, light clearing among
+the surrounding woods. The stable, a room above it, a small portico in
+front of the stable, a cistern under the portico--that is all. The
+little portico is just above the narrow paved way that passes some two
+or three metres below. It is only a few steps from the comb of the
+ravine of Val Malghera, to Rooch. Having reached the comb, Franco heard
+low voices in the farmhouse.
+
+He paused and drawing aside, stretched himself, face downwards, upon the
+grass, beyond the path, and near a cluster of low chestnut trees. The
+voices became silent, but he heard a man's steps coming rapidly towards
+him; he lay quite still, holding his breath. The man stopped almost at
+his side, waited a moment, and then slowly retraced his steps, saying in
+a loud voice, with a foreign accent: "There is no one here, it must have
+been a fox."
+
+The guards! A long silence followed, during which Franco did not dare to
+move. The guards once more began to talk, and he decided to crawl
+noiselessly backwards, to drop down into Val Malghera and pass behind
+and above the house. Slowly, very slowly he pulled off his boots. He was
+about to move when he heard two or three guards leave the farmhouse,
+talking as they came towards him. He heard one of them say: "Is no one
+going to stay here?" and another answered: "It is not necessary."
+
+Four guards brushed past him without noticing him. They certainly had
+no suspicions, for they were talking unconcernedly. One was saying that
+a person may remain ten minutes under water without drowning; but
+another maintained that five minutes is long enough to cause death. The
+fourth passed him in silence, but hardly had he done so when he stopped.
+Franco shuddered upon hearing him strike a match. He lit his pipe,
+puffed at it two or three times, and then called out to his companions
+in a loud voice, for they had already gone some way down the slope of
+Val Malghera.
+
+"How old was she?"
+
+One of the others answered, louder still:
+
+"Three years and one month."
+
+Then the fourth guard puffed twice more and started forward. Three years
+and one month! Maria's age! Franco, lying on his face, raised himself
+upon his elbows, clutching convulsively at the grass. The noise of the
+steps died away down below in Val Malghera.
+
+"My God! My God!" he cried. Rising to his knees he repeated the terrible
+words in his heart, slowly, as if stupefied. "_She was!_" He wrung his
+hands, moaning once more: "My God! My God!"
+
+After this he was hardly conscious of his movements. He went down to
+Oria with the vague sensation of having grown suddenly deaf, and his arm
+which clasped the doll trembled violently. Reaching the Madonna del
+Romit he crossed the town, and instead of going down by the Pomodoro
+stairway he followed the path that joins the short cut to Albogasio
+Superiore, and descended those same stairs that Barborin Pasotti had
+descended the day before the catastrophe. On the wall of the church he
+noticed a pale light which was reflected from the alcove-room. He
+neither paused beneath the window, nor called out, but stepped under the
+porch and tried the door.
+
+It was open.
+
+From the coolness of the night he passed into a heavy, close atmosphere,
+laden with the unfamiliar odour of burnt vinegar and incense. With
+difficulty he dragged himself up the stairs. Before him, on the landing,
+half-way up, light fell from above. On reaching the spot he saw that the
+light came from the alcove-room. He went on and presently stood in the
+corridor. The door of the room was wide open; there must be many candles
+burning in there. Mingled with the odour of incense he recognised the
+perfume of flowers, and began to tremble so violently that he could not
+go on. No sound reached him from the room. Suddenly he heard Luisa's
+voice, speaking tenderly, quietly: "Do you want me to go where you are
+going to-morrow, Maria? Do you want your mamma under the ground with
+you?" "Luisa! Luisa!" sobbed Franco, and they found themselves in each
+others' arms, on the threshold of their nuptial chamber, where the
+memory of their love was still alive, but where its sweet fruit lay
+dead.
+
+"Come, dear. Come in," said she, and drew him forward. In the centre of
+the room, between four lighted candles, stood the little open coffin, in
+which lay poor Maria, under a mound of flowers, broken and wilted like
+herself. There were roses, heliotrope, jasmine, begonia, geraniums,
+verbena, flowering sprays of _olea fragrans_, and other blossomless
+sprays, all dark and shiny, from the carob tree she had loved so well,
+because it had been dear to papa. Flowers and leaves lay across her face
+as well.
+
+Franco fell upon his knees sobbing: "My God! My God!" while Luisa chose
+two tiny rosebuds, placed them in Maria's little hand, and kissed her
+brow.
+
+"You can kiss her hair," said she, "but not her face. The doctor does
+not wish it."
+
+"But you have just done so!"
+
+"Oh, it is a different thing for me."
+
+But instead he pressed his lips to her icy lips, that showed among the
+geraniums and the carob leaves, touching them gently, as in a tender,
+but not despairing farewell to the outward wrapping now cast aside and
+empty, which had once belonged to his beloved baby, who had gone to
+dwell elsewhere.
+
+"Maria! My darling Maria!" he whispered between his sobs. "What was the
+matter?"
+
+He had not realised the connection between the guards' talk about
+drowning and the rest of their conversation.
+
+"You have not heard?" said his wife calmly, and without surprise. They
+had told her how the telegram had been worded, but she was also aware
+that Ismaele was to have met Franco in Lugano. She did not know,
+however, that as Franco had not arrived by the coach from Ceneri,
+Ismaele had gone to bed.
+
+"Poor Franco!" said she, kissing his hair almost maternally. "There was
+no illness."
+
+He started to his feet, terrified, and exclaiming: "What do you mean?
+There was no illness?"
+
+Leu, the person whom Franco had heard breathing heavily in her sleep,
+now came in with the intention of fumigating the room, but seeing Franco
+she stopped in amazement. "Come in," said Luisa. "You may place the
+brazier outside the door; sprinkle whatever is necessary upon it, and
+then return to the kitchen and sleep, my good Leu." The woman obeyed.
+
+"There was no illness?" Franco repeated.
+
+"Come," his wife answered. "I will tell you everything."
+
+She made him sit down on the _dormeuse_ at the foot of their bed. He
+wished her to sit beside him, but she made a gesture of refusal, and of
+entreaty that he should not insist, that he should be quiet and wait;
+then, sinking down on the floor beside her baby, she began the painful
+story in a low, even voice, that sounded almost indifferent to the
+tragedy it was relating, a voice that resembled poor, deaf Barborin's,
+seeming to come from a far-away world. She began with her meeting with
+Peppina Bianconi at Campo, and--always in the same calm tone--told him
+all the thoughts, all the sentiments that had brought her to confront
+his grandmother, told him everything, down to the moment when she had
+realised that Maria was indeed dead. When she had finished she rose to
+her knees, and kissing her dead child, whispered to her: "Now your papa
+thinks that I killed you, but it is not true, dear, indeed, it is not
+true!"
+
+He rose, quivering with nameless emotion, and bending over her, raised
+her--neither yielding nor resisting--from the floor. Touching her
+resolutely but tenderly, he placed her on the _dormeuse_ beside him. He
+encircled her shoulders with his arm, pressing her to him, speaking with
+his lips on her hair, wetting it with the hot tears, which from time to
+time choked his voice. "My poor Luisa! No, indeed you did not kill her!
+How could you suspect me of thinking such a thing? I bless you instead
+for all that you have done for her ever since she came into the world;
+I, who have done nothing, bless you who have done so much. Never say
+such a thing again! Never, dear. Our Maria----"
+
+A violent sob checked his words, but the man immediately exerted his
+strong will, controlled himself and continued:
+
+"Don't you know what our Maria is saying now? She is saying: 'My darling
+mamma, my darling papa, now you are all alone, you have only each
+other, you are more closely united than ever; give me to God that He may
+give me back to you; that I may become your little guardian angel, and
+lead you to Him at last, that we may dwell together in all eternity,' Do
+you hear her saying these words, Luisa?"
+
+She trembled in his arms, shaken by spasmodic quiverings; her face bent
+low, resisted Franco when he would have raised it. At last she took his
+hand and kissed it. Then he also kissed her on the hair, and murmured:
+"Answer me."
+
+"You are good!" Luisa replied, in a faint and despairing voice. "You
+wish to spare me, but you do not believe what you say. You must feel
+that I caused her death, that if I had adopted your sentiments, your
+ideas, I should not have left the house, and if I had not left the house
+this would not have happened, and Maria would still be alive."
+
+"Don't think of that, my dear, don't! You might have believed Maria was
+with Veronica; you might have remained in the room with the fiances, and
+the accident would have happened just the same. Don't think of this any
+more, Luisa. Rather listen to what Maria is saying."
+
+"Poor Franco! Poor, poor fellow!" said Luisa, with such bitterness of
+terrible hidden meanings, that his blood ran cold. He shuddered and was
+silent, unable to grasp her meaning, and at the same time dreading an
+explanation. Slowly they withdrew from each other's arms, Luisa being
+the first to move. She again took her husband's hand and wished to
+carry it to her lips, but Franco drew her hand tenderly towards him and
+made a last attempt.
+
+"Why will you not answer me?"
+
+"I should hurt you too much," she murmured.
+
+He began to realise the irreparable ruin of her soul, and was silent. He
+did not withdraw his hand, but felt his strength deserting him, felt
+darkness and icy cold creeping over him, as if Maria, whom he had evoked
+in vain, had died a second time. Anguish, fatigue, the heavy atmosphere,
+the mingled odours of the room, affected him so strongly that he was
+obliged to go out, or he would have fainted.
+
+He went to the loggia. The windows were open and the sweet, fresh air
+restored him. Out there in the dark he wept for his little daughter
+unrestrainedly, without even that restraint which light imposes. He
+knelt by one of the windows, crossed his arms on his breast and wept,
+his face raised towards heaven, tears and words flowing together,
+disjointed words of anguish and of faith, calling out to God for help,
+to God, to God who had dealt him the blow. With streaming eyes he cried
+out, begging that his tears might continue to flow, confessing that he
+knew full well why the child had died. Had he not prayed again and again
+that God would preserve her from the danger of losing her faith through
+her mother's influence? Ah! that last night! That last night when Maria
+had said to him: "Darling papa, a kiss!" and so many other tender
+things, and would not let go his hand, how he had prayed! The memory of
+it was a terror, a joy, a spasm to him. "Lord, Lord!" said he, gazing
+heavenward. "Thou wert silent, but my voice reached Thee. Thou hast
+answered my prayer in Thine own mysterious way. Thou hast taken my
+treasure to Thyself, she is safe, she is happy, she awaits me. Thou wilt
+reunite us." The fast-falling tears that accompanied his last words had
+no bitter taste, but presently, while thinking once more of that last
+night, he was bitterly sorry he had left Maria without telling her that
+he had deceived her. "Maria, my own Maria!" he entreated, weeping,
+"forgive me!" Good God! it seemed impossible that all this could be
+true; it seemed impossible that if he went into the alcove-room he
+should not find her there asleep in her little bed, her head drooping
+towards her shoulder and her tiny hands resting, palms upward, upon the
+sheet. Indeed she was still there, but----! Oh! how awful it all was!
+Surely his tears would never end.
+
+Leu came in bringing a light and a cup of coffee. The Signora had sent
+her. He felt a thrill of tender gratitude towards his wife. Good God!
+Poor Luisa! How hopeless was her grief! And what an awful semblance of
+punishment for her in the blow which had fallen upon her at that very
+moment, that very moment! She herself had realised that he must think
+this, and he did indeed think it, but had denied his thought in order
+to spare her, and this she had also realised. And was this awful
+semblance of punishment destined not to bear any fruit whatsoever? She
+seemed to shrink from God more than ever now, and who could tell how far
+she might wander! Poor, poor Luisa! It was not Maria he should pray for,
+Maria did not need his prayers. He must pray for Luisa, pray night and
+day, trusting also in the prayers of the precious little soul now hidden
+in God.
+
+He talked with Leu, feeling more calm now, and had her tell him all she
+had seen, all she had heard of this terrible event. "The Lord wanted
+your little child for Himself," said Leu at last. "If you could only
+have seen her in church, with her little folded hands and her serious
+little face! She looked just like an angel. Indeed she did." Then she
+asked Franco if she should leave the light. No, he preferred to be in
+the dark. At what time was the funeral to take place? At eight o'clock,
+Leu thought. When Leu once began talking it was always hard for her to
+leave off, and perhaps now she was afraid of staying in the kitchen all
+alone. "Her papa!" she added, before going out. "Her dear papa! It isn't
+more than a week ago that I came here with some chestnuts for the
+Signora, and that blessed little creature, who spoke so well, for all
+the world like a lawyer, said to me: 'Do you know, Leu, my papa is
+coming to Lugano very soon, and I am going to see him.' Oh, dear! What a
+dreadful thing!"
+
+His tears flowed afresh. Ah, God had taken the child to save her from
+the errors of the world. God had punished Luisa for her errors, but was
+not this awful punishment intended for him also? Was he not guilty also?
+Ah, yes! Very, very guilty! A clear vision of his past life rose before
+him, his life, barren of all useful labour, full of vanities,
+corresponding ill with the beliefs he professed, a life which rendered
+him responsible for Luisa's unbelief. The world accounted him virtuous
+for certain qualities he possessed through no merit of his own, for they
+were inborn in him, and he felt that for this very reason God's judgment
+of him must be doubly severe; for God had endowed him richly, and he had
+gathered no fruit. Once more he fell upon his knees and humbly accepted
+his punishment, in the desolate contrition of his heart, in his burning
+desire to expiate, to purify himself, to become worthy of re-union with
+Maria at last.
+
+A long, long time he prayed and wept. At last he went out to the
+terrace. Above Galbiga and the hills of the Lake of Como the sky was
+growing light; day was breaking. From neighbouring Boglia a cold north
+wind was blowing. From far and near, from the lake shore, from the lofty
+bosom of the valley, bells rang out. The thought that Maria and
+Grandmother Teresa were together and happy, rose suddenly, clear and
+sweet in Franco's heart. It seemed to him the Lord was saying to him: "I
+afflict thee, but I love thee. Wait, be steadfast, and thou shalt
+know." The bells chimed far and near, from the lake shore and from the
+lofty bosom of the valley. The sky grew ever brighter above Galbiga and
+towards the Lake of Como, along the steep, black profile of the Picco di
+Cressogno; and the sweep of smooth water down there in the East, between
+the great shadows of the mountains, was like a shining pearl. The sprays
+of the passion-flower vine, touched by the north wind, waved silently
+above Franco's head, in quivering anticipation of the light, of the
+immense glory that was rising out of the east, colouring clouds and
+clear sky with itself, and welcomed by the bells.
+
+To live, to live, to work, suffer, adore, and ascend! That was what the
+light demanded! He must carry the living away in his arms, carry the
+dead away in his heart, return to Turin, work for Italy, die for her!
+The dawning day demanded this. Italy! Italy! Beloved Mother! Franco
+clasped his hands in a transport of desire.
+
+Luisa heard the bells also. She wished that she might not have heard
+them, wished that day might never dawn, bringing with it the hour in
+which Maria must be consigned to the grave. On her knees beside her
+baby's little body she promised her that every day of her life she would
+come and talk to her, bring her flowers, and bear her company; morning
+and evening she would come. Then she sank down and gave herself up to
+those dark thoughts which she had not wished to confess to her husband,
+and which had grown and matured in her during the last twenty-four
+hours, as a malignant infection of remote origin which has lain dormant
+in the system, being caught up at last in the current of the blood,
+suddenly bursts forth with overwhelming violence.
+
+All her religious views, her faith in the existence of God, her
+scepticism concerning the immortality of the soul were tending towards
+subversion. She was convinced that she was in no way responsible for
+Maria's death. If indeed there did exist an Intelligence, a Will, a
+Power which was master of men and of things, then the monstrous guilt
+was of this Intelligence, which had coldly pre-ordained Barborin
+Passotti's visit and gift; had withdrawn Maria from those who should
+have watched over her in her mother's absence; had lured her,
+defenceless, towards destruction; had killed her. That same Power had
+checked her, the mother, when she had been about to perform an act of
+justice. Fool that she was, ever to have believed in Divine Justice!
+There was no such thing as Divine Justice! Instead there was the altar
+allied to the throne; the Austrian God, a party to all injustice, all
+tyranny, author of suffering, and of evil, slayer of the innocent and
+protector of the wicked. Ah! if such a God did indeed exist, it were
+better that Maria be there in that body, better that no part of her
+should live on to fall into the toils of this fiendish Omnipotence!
+
+But it was possible to doubt the existence of this horrible God. And if
+He did not exist we might desire that a part of a human being should
+continue to live beyond the grave, live not miraculously, but naturally.
+That was perhaps easier to conceive than the existence of an invisible
+tyrant, of a Creator who was cruel to the beings of His own creation.
+The rule of nature without God was certainly preferable; better a blind
+master, who was not our enemy, not deliberately cruel. But henceforth,
+at least, no thought must be wasted in any way, either in this life or
+in the next--if, indeed, the next exist--upon that vain phantom,
+Justice!
+
+The faint light of dawn mingled with her thoughts as it had mingled with
+Franco's thoughts, solemn and consoling to him, hateful to her. He, the
+Christian, meditated an insurrection of wrath and of arms against
+brothers in Christ, for love of a dot upon the surface of one of
+Heaven's orbs; she meditated an immense rebellion, the liberation of the
+Universe. Her thought might be the greater, her intellect might appear
+the stronger, but he whom the human generations learn to know even
+better as they advance in civilisation and science; He who allows each
+generation to honour Him according to its strength, and who gradually
+transforms and raises the ideals of the nations, making use even of
+inferior and fleeting ideals, when He deems it opportune, in His
+government of the world; He who, being Peace and Life, has allowed
+Himself to be called the God of armies, had impressed the sign of His
+judgment upon the face of the woman and upon the face of the man. While
+dawn burned into the glory of sunrise, Franco's brow became ever more
+brightly illumined by a light from within, and through his tears his
+eyes shone with the vigour of life; but Luisa's brow grew ever darker,
+and from the depths, the shadows mounted to her dull eyes.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+As the sun rose a boat came in sight off the point of Caravina. It
+brought the lawyer, V., who had come from Varenna in obedience to
+Luisa's call.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+PHANTOMS
+
+
+On the evening of that same day a numerous company assembled in the
+Marchesa's red drawing-room. Pasotti had brought his unlucky wife by
+main force, and he had brought Signor Giacomo Puttini also, although
+that gentleman had held out for some time against the most gracious
+Controller's despotic caprices. The curate of Puria and Paolin had also
+put in an appearance, both being anxious to observe the effects of the
+tragedy on the old lady's marble countenance. Paolin of course dragged
+the worthy Paolon in his wake, he being still in a state of limp and
+sheepish resistance. The curate of Cima, who was devoted to the
+Marchesa, came also, as did the prefect of Caravina, whose heart really
+belonged to Franco and Luisa, but who, as parish-priest of Cressogno,
+was bound to treat their enemy with a certain amount of consideration.
+
+She received them all with her usual impassive expression, with her
+usual calm greeting. Signora Barborin, who had been cautioned by her
+master against alluding to the event at Oria, was made to sit on the
+sofa beside her hostess, who graciously accepted the homage of the
+others, put the usual questions to Paolin and Paolon concerning their
+respective consorts, and having satisfied herself that both Paolina and
+Paolona were enjoying the best of health, she folded her hands over her
+stomach and relapsed into dignified silence, her courtiers forming a
+semicircle around her. Pasotti, noting the absence of Friend, inquired
+for him with obsequious solicitude. "And Friend? Dear little Friend?"
+Although, had he had him in his clutches--_solus cum solo_--the nasty,
+little snarling beast which worried his trousers and his wife's skirts,
+he would have joyfully wrung his neck. Friend had been ill for two days.
+The entire company was greatly affected by this news, and loudly
+deplored the misfortune, secretly hoping the while that the accursed
+little monster might not recover. Barborin, not hearing a word, but
+seeing so many mouths at work, so many faces assuming a look of
+affliction, naturally supposed they were speaking of Oria, and turning
+to her neighbour Paolon, questioned him with her eyes, opening her mouth
+and pointing towards Oria. Paolon shook his head. "They are talking
+about the little dog," said he. The deaf woman did not understand, but
+she said: "Ah!" on general principles, and assumed an expression of
+affliction like the rest.
+
+Friend ate too much, and his food was too rich, and he was now suffering
+from a disgusting skin disease. Paolin and the curate of Puria gave
+much careful advice. The prefect of Caravina had elsewhere expressed the
+charitable opinion that the creature ought to be pitched into the lake
+with his mistress tied to his neck. While the others were discussing the
+favourite with such lively interest, the prefect was thinking of Luisa
+as he had seen her that morning, her features distorted, opposing mad
+resistance first to the closing of the coffin, and then to its removal.
+He was thinking how, in the cemetery, she with her own hands had cast
+the earth upon her child, telling her to be patient, that she herself
+would soon come and lie down beside her, and that that would be their
+Paradise.
+
+In spite of the animated and eager conversation concerning the mangy
+Friend, the phantoms of the dead child and the distracted mother were
+hovering in the room. Presently there came a moment of silence when no
+one could think of anything more to say about the dog, and then the two
+unhappy phantoms were heard by all, demanding that they speak of them,
+and all could see them distinctly in the eyes of one who loved them, in
+the eyes of poor, deaf Barborin. Her husband at once sought a diversion,
+and propounded a problem in _tarocchi_ to Signor Giacomo. The other
+_tarocchi_ enthusiasts immediately took up the question, the voices of
+the phantoms could no longer be heard, and every one breathed more
+freely.
+
+It was nine o'clock. Usually at that hour the footman would come in
+with two lighted candles, and prepare the little _tarocchi_ table in one
+corner of the room, between the great fireplace and the balcony on the
+West. Then the Marchesa would rise and say, with her habitual, drowsy
+calm:
+
+"If you are ready----"
+
+The two or three guests would invariably answer: "Quite ready," and then
+the three-handed or four-handed game would begin.
+
+The old footman--who was devotedly attached to Don Franco--hesitated
+that night about bringing the candles. He did not believe it possible
+that his mistress and her guests would have the courage to play. At five
+minutes past nine, as the footman had not yet appeared, each one began
+privately commenting upon the delay. Before entering the house Paolin
+had maintained that there would be no playing, while the prefect had
+maintained the contrary. He now cast a triumphant glance at his
+adversary, as did also Paolon, who, from a spirit of solidarity with the
+other Paul, was pleased that he should be in the right. Pasotti, who had
+felt sure of his game, began to show signs of uneasiness. At seven
+minutes past nine the Marchesa requested the prefect to ring the bell.
+It was now the prefect's turn to bestow a triumphant glance on Paolin,
+and he put into it all the silent contempt for the old woman that it
+would hold.
+
+"Prepare the table," said the Marchesa to the footman.
+
+He soon returned with the two candles. From the depths of his sorrowful
+eyes also, the phantom of the dead child looked forth. While he was busy
+arranging the candles, the cards, and the ivory counters on the table,
+the room was enveloped in that silence which always preceded the rising
+of the Marchesa. But the Marchesa showed no intention of rising. She
+turned to Pasotti, saying:
+
+"Controller, if you and the others wish to play----"
+
+"Marchesa," Pasotti promptly replied, "my wife's presence must not deter
+you from enjoying your game. Barborin is not a good player, but she
+delights in looking on."
+
+"I shall not play this evening," the Marchesa answered, and although the
+tone was mild, the refusal was decisive.
+
+The worthy Paolon, who was always silent and could not play _tarocchi_,
+believed he had at last discovered a word which was both wise and
+obsequious, and which he might safely utter:
+
+"Exactly!" said he.
+
+Pasotti gave him a surly glance, thinking: "What business is it of his?"
+but he did not venture to speak. The Marchesa appeared not to have
+noticed Paolon's utterance, and added:
+
+"The others can play if they like."
+
+"Never!" exclaimed the prefect. "We should not think of such a thing!"
+
+Pasotti drew his snuff-box from his pocket. "The _Signor Prefetto_,"
+said he, speaking very distinctly, and slightly raising his open hand, a
+pinch of snuff between the thumb and forefinger, "The _Signor Prefetto_
+must speak for himself. For my part, as the Signora Marchesa wishes us
+to play, I am quite willing to oblige her."
+
+The Marchesa was silent, and the fiery prefect, encouraged by her
+silence, grumbled in an undertone:
+
+"After all, we are in a house of mourning."
+
+Never since Franco had left the house had his name been mentioned at
+these evening assemblies in the red drawing-room, nor had the Marchesa
+even alluded either to him or to his wife. She now broke the silence
+that had lasted four years.
+
+"I am sorry for the baby," said she, "but as for her father and mother,
+the Almighty has seen fit to punish them."
+
+No one spoke. After some minutes Pasotti said in a low and solemn tone:
+
+"A fearful punishment!"
+
+And the curate of Cima added in a louder voice:
+
+"A manifest punishment!"
+
+Paolin dared not remain silent, neither did he dare speak, so he
+ejaculated: "Dear, dear!" and this encouraged Paolon to repeat his
+"Exactly!" Signor Giacomo simply puffed.
+
+"A chastisement from the Almighty!" the curate of Cima repeated with
+emphasis. "And also, considering the circumstances, a mark of His
+especial regard for some one else."
+
+All, save the prefect, who was chafing inwardly, looked at the Marchesa
+as if the protecting hand of the Omnipotent were suspended above her
+wig. But instead that Divine Hand was hovering above the lofty bonnet of
+Barborin Pasotti, and was keeping her ears tightly closed, that they
+might not hear those contaminating and iniquitous words. "Curate," said
+Pasotti, "as the Signora Marchesa has proposed it, shall we have a
+little game? You, Paolin, Signor Giacomo, and I?"
+
+The four, seated in their corner at the little card table, at once gave
+themselves up to the luxury of unrestrained conversation, and to the
+enjoyment of certain stale, Ambrosian[P] witticisms, which cling to the
+_tarocchi_ cards like grease.
+
+"I shall get there first!" Pasotti exclaimed after the first round,
+laughing loudly, with the intention of proclaiming both his victory and
+his good spirits.
+
+The players had rid themselves of the phantoms; not so the others. The
+deaf woman, sitting stiff and motionless on the sofa, had suffered
+mortal anguish, dreading a gesture from her husband which should command
+her to play. Oh, dear Lord! was she to be made to suffer this also? By
+the grace of Heaven the sign was not given, and her first feeling upon
+seeing the four seat themselves at the little table had been one of
+relief. But at once bitter disgust seized her.
+
+What an insult that game was to her Luisa! What contempt it showed for
+poor, dear little Maria, who was dead! No one spoke to her, no one
+noticed her, so she began to recite in her heart a string of _Paters_,
+_Aves_, and _Glorias_, for the soul of that wicked creature seated at
+the other end of the sofa, who was so old, so rapidly approaching the
+moment when she must appear before her God. She repeated, for her
+benefit, the prayer for the conversion of sinners which she had been in
+the habit of repeating night and morning for her husband's benefit, ever
+since she had discovered his over-familiarity with a certain menial
+attached to her household.
+
+When the prefect heard Pasotti's outburst of mirth, he rose to take his
+leave. "Wait," said the Marchesa, "you must have a glass of wine." At
+half-past nine a precious bottle of old San Colombano was usually
+brought in. "I shall not drink to-night," said the prefect heroically,
+"I have been greatly upset ever since this morning. Puria knows why."
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Puria softly. "Of course it was a terrible tragedy."
+
+Silence. The prefect bowed to the Marchesa, saluted Signor Pasotti with
+an expression that said: "You and I understand each other," and left the
+room.
+
+The curate of Puria, who was possessed of a big body and a level head,
+was studying the Marchesa without appearing to do so. Was she or was
+she not affected by the events at Oria? Her having refrained from
+playing seemed to him a doubtful symptom. She might have done so simply
+out of respect for her own flesh and blood. On closer observation the
+curate noticed that her hands trembled; this was unusual. She forgot to
+ask Pasotti if the wine was good; this also was unusual. Her face with
+its waxen mask, twitched violently from time to time; this was extremely
+unusual. "She is touched!" thought the curate. As she was perfectly
+silent, and as Signora Pasotti and Paolon were also silent, the whole
+group seemed turned to stone. Puria cast about for a means of breaking
+the ice, but could find nothing better than to induce those three heads
+to turn towards the card-table, while he commented upon Pasotti's
+exclamations, upon Paolin's and Signor Giacomo's ejaculations and
+puffings. The Marchesa roused herself somewhat, and expressed her
+satisfaction that the players were enjoying themselves. Barborin neither
+heard nor spoke a word, so the three others ended by talking about her.
+The Marchesa complained that she was so deaf it was impossible to
+converse with her. The other two lavished upon her all the praise she so
+richly deserved, the praise all those who remember her still lavish upon
+her. There she sat, sad and speechless, never suspecting that she was
+the subject of their conversation. The Lord protected her profound and
+simple meekness, by never allowing the praises of the world to enter
+into her ears, but only the scoldings of her worthy consort.
+
+Her great, sorrowful black eyes brightened when Signor Giacomo uttered a
+loud and final puff, and his companions, dropping their cards, threw
+themselves back in their respective chairs to rest a little and reflect
+upon the delights of the game. At last her master approached the sofa,
+and motioned to her to rise. For the first time in her life, perhaps,
+she was glad to get into the boat.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When her guests had left, the Marchesa rang the bell for the rosary,
+which they had not been able to repeat at the usual hour. The rosary was
+a living thing in Casa Maironi, having its roots in the Marchesa's past
+sins, and its growth was steady, for it was always putting forth fresh
+_Aves_ and _Glorias_, as the old lady became more advanced in years, and
+saw her own disgusting skull looming before her, ever more distinct,
+ever more apparent. Consequently her rosary was extremely long. The
+sweet peccadillos of her protracted youth did not trouble her conscience
+over-much, but there were certain other transgressions which could be
+computed in pounds, shillings, and pence, transgressions never properly
+confessed and therefore never properly forgiven, and these caused her
+great uneasiness; an uneasiness she was continually trying to stifle by
+means of rosaries, but which was forever bursting out afresh. While she
+was praying to the Great Creditor for the remission of her debts, she
+would feel perfect confidence in His power to remit them all, but later
+there would once more loom before her mind's eye the sorrowful faces of
+the lesser creditors, bringing with them doubts concerning the pardon
+received, and thus her avarice and her pride were ever struggling
+against the fear of a perpetual debtor's prison beyond the tomb.
+
+When they had recited the prayers for the conversion of sinners, and
+those for the healing of the sick, and were about to begin the _De
+Profundis_, she announced three new _Ave Marias_, without, however,
+stating for what purpose. The scullery maid, a simple peasant from
+Cressogno, supposed these _Ave Marias_ were intended for the unhappy
+family at Oria, and recited them with extreme fervour. The
+scullery-maid's _Aves_ clashed with and routed those of her mistress,
+which were asking for sleep, and rest for the nerves and conscience. As
+to the _Ave Marias_ of all the others, they were repeated in the common
+hope that they might not remain definitely attached to the rosary, as
+too often happened. In short, no one succeeded in checking the onward
+march of the ghost.
+
+Towards eleven o'clock the Marchesa retired. She drank some
+citron-water, and the maid having begun to talk of Oria and of Don
+Franco, who, it was whispered, had returned, she ordered her to be
+silent. She was certainly affected. She saw continually before her eyes
+the image of Maria as she had once seen her when passing in her gondola
+below the little Gilardoni villa; a slight figure in a white apron, with
+long hair and bare arms, and strangely like a child of her own who had
+died when only three. Did she feel affection or pity? She herself could
+not tell what she felt. Perhaps it was only irritation and terror at not
+being able to rid herself of an annoying image; perhaps it was fear at
+the thought that if a certain great sin had not been committed long ago,
+if Marchese Franco's will had not been burnt, the child would not have
+died.
+
+When she was in bed she had the maid read some prayers to her, then she
+ordered her to put out the light, and finally dismissed her. She closed
+her eyes, trying not to think of anything, and saw beneath her eyelids,
+a shapeless, light spot, which little by little transformed itself into
+a small pillow, then into a letter, then into a large white
+chrysanthemum, and at last into a pale, drooping, dead face, that
+gradually grew smaller and smaller. She fancied she was falling asleep,
+but as a result of this last transformation the thought of the child
+shot through her heart, and although she saw nothing more beneath her
+eyelids, her drowsiness vanished, and she opened her eyes, vexed and
+uneasy. She determined to think out a game of _tarocchi_ in order to
+drive away these troublesome fancies, and induce sleep. She thought of
+the game, and succeeded, by an effort, in seeing in her mind's eye the
+little card-table, the players, the candles, the cards; but when she
+relaxed the tension of effort, in order to give herself up to a passive
+contemplation of these soporific phantoms, something totally different
+appeared beneath her eyelids--a head which was continually changing its
+features, its expression, its position, and which, at last, slowly
+drooped forward, as in sleep or death, so that she could only see the
+hair. This was another shock to her nerves. The Marchesa once more
+opened her eyes, and heard the clock on the stairs begin to strike. She
+counted the strokes; twelve o'clock. It was already midnight, and she
+could not get to sleep! She lay some time with wide open eyes, and now
+images began to appear in the dark as they had before appeared beneath
+her eyelids. At first there was only a formless nucleus, which soon
+began to undergo transformation. She saw the face of a clock which
+presently turned into the horrible eye of a fish, and then became an
+angry, human eye. Suddenly the Marchesa felt quite sure she would not be
+able to go to sleep at all, and once more the drowsiness that had
+already taken firm hold on her, was put to flight. Then she rang the
+bell.
+
+The maid let her ring twice, and then came in, half dressed and sleepy.
+She was ordered to place the candle upon a chair in such a position that
+the flame might not be visible from the bed, to get a volume of
+Barbieri's sermons, and to read in a low voice. The maid was in the
+habit of administering these narcotics. She began to read, but at the
+end of the second page, hearing her mistress's breathing grow deeper,
+she very gradually lowered her voice, until it became only an
+inarticulate murmur, and finally lapsed into silence. She waited a
+moment, listening to the deep and regular breathing, then rose and went
+to look at the dark face turned upwards on the pillows, with wrinkled
+brow and half-open mouth. Then she took up the candle and went out on
+tiptoe.
+
+The Marchesa was asleep and dreaming. She was dreaming that she was
+stretched on a bed of straw in a great dark dungeon, chains upon her
+ankles, and accused of murder. The judge entered with a light, sat down
+beside her, and read her a sermon on the necessity of confession. She
+kept protesting that she was innocent, and repeating: "Don't you know
+she was drowned?" The judge made no answer, but went on reading in a
+mournful and solemn voice, while the Marchesa insisted: "No, no! I did
+not kill her!" In her dream she was no longer phlegmatic, but writhed
+like one in despair. "Remember that the child herself says so," the
+judge replied. He rose to his feet, repeating: "She says so." Then he
+struck the palm of one hand loudly upon the palm of the other, and
+called out: "Enter!" Thus far the Marchesa had been conscious in her
+dream that she was dreaming; at this point she thought she awoke, and
+saw with horror, that some one had indeed entered the room.
+
+A human form, slightly luminous, was seated in the armchair heaped with
+clothes that stood beside her bed, but in such a position that she could
+not distinguish the lower part of the apparition. Its shoulders, arms,
+and clasped hands were of a whitish hue, and indistinct in outline, but
+its head, that rested against the chair-back, was distinctly visible,
+and surrounded by a pale light. The dark, living eyes were staring at
+the Marchesa. Oh, horror! It was indeed the dead child! Oh, horror! Oh,
+horror! The eyes of the apparition spoke, and accused her. The judge was
+right, the child was saying so--without words--with her eyes! "It was
+you who did it, Grandmother, you! I should have been born, should have
+lived under your roof. You would not have it. Your punishment shall be
+death everlasting!"
+
+The eyes alone, the staring, sad, pitiful eyes said all these things at
+once. The Marchesa uttered a long groan, and stretched out her arms
+towards the apparition, trying to say something, and succeeding only in
+gasping out: "Ah--ah--ah--" while the hands, the arms, the shoulders of
+the phantom vanished in a mist, the outlines of its face became blurred,
+and only the gaze remained, staring intently, and then finally becoming
+veiled was absorbed, as it were, into a deep and distant Self, nothing
+remaining of the apparition save a slight phosphorescence which was
+presently lost in the darkness.
+
+The Marchesa awoke with a start. In her agitation she forgot the bell,
+and tried to call out, but could not raise her voice. By an effort of
+her will, which was still strong in spite of her failing bodily
+strength, she thrust her legs out of bed, and stood upright. She
+staggered forward a step or two in the dark, stumbling against the
+easy-chair, and clutched at another chair, dragging it down with her as
+she fell heavily to the ground, where she lay moaning.
+
+The noise of the fall roused the maid, who called out to her mistress,
+but receiving no answer, and hearing the moaning, she lighted her candle
+and hastened into the room, where, in the dim light between the armchair
+and the bed she saw something large and white that was writhing on the
+floor like some huge marine monster, that has been cast upon the shore.
+She screamed and rushed to the bell, rousing the whole house at once,
+and then hastened to help the old woman, who was groaning: "The priest!
+The priest! The prefect! The prefect!"
+
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[P] Ambrosian: From St. Ambrose, patron of Milan. Therefore, Milanese.
+[_Translator's note._]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+FLIGHT
+
+
+At half-past two that same night Franco, Lawyer V., and their friend
+Pedraglio were sitting in the loggia in the dark, and in silence.
+Suddenly Pedraglio started up exclaiming: "What can that fool be about?"
+Going out to the terrace he listened a moment and then returned to the
+room. "No sign of him," said he. "Oh, I say! Are we to sit here like
+idiots and wait for them to come and take us, and all on account of that
+silly ass, who has probably fallen asleep? Maironi, you are fairly well
+acquainted with the road, and we all three have plenty of courage. If it
+should be necessary to pitch into anybody we should be quite equal to
+the occasion. Don't you think so, V.?"
+
+The night before, between seven and eight o'clock, Pedraglio had
+happened to be on the road between Loveno and Menaggio. At the spot that
+goes by the name of "Bertin's Cove" a man had begged of him, had pressed
+a note into his hand, and had then walked rapidly away. The note ran as
+follows: "Why does Carlino Pedraglio not go to Oria at once, to see
+Signor Maironi and the lawyer from Varenna, and take a nice little walk
+with his dear friends over beyond the stake?"
+
+Ever since the arrest of his friend the doctor at Pellio, Pedraglio had
+been expecting some sign from the police, and this note was not the
+first timely and ungrammatical warning which had reached a patriot. The
+note spoke plainly; he must pass the stake that marked the frontier
+without delay. Pedraglio knew nothing of Franco's misfortune and return,
+nor was he aware of the lawyer's presence in Oria. He did not stop to
+speculate, however, but hastened to Loveno, provided himself with money,
+and started off on foot. He would not risk going to Porlezza, but took
+the path that from a spot near Tavordo rises upwards through a lonely
+ravine to the Passo Stretto. As nimble as a chamois, he reached Oria in
+four hours, and found Franco and the lawyer preparing to start, another
+mysterious warning having reached them through the curate of Castello,
+who had been to Porlezza, and had there been charged with the message,
+in the confessional. Ismaele was to guide them across the frontier. The
+passes of Boglia were very carefully guarded, and Ismaele proposed
+passing between Monte della Neve and Castello; then they would drop down
+into the valley, making straight for the Alpe di Castello below the
+Sasso Grande, and from there descend to Cadro, an hour above Lugano.
+
+But Ismaele was to have been there at two o'clock, and at half-past two
+he had not yet appeared.
+
+Luisa was also up. She was in the alcove-room mending a pair of Maria's
+stockings, which she intended to place on the little bed, where she had
+arranged all of the child's little garments with the same care as when
+the little one was alive. She had not wished to see either the lawyer or
+Pedraglio. After her intense excitement at the funeral her grief had
+once more assumed that gloomy aspect which caused Dr. Aliprandi still
+greater anxiety. She was no longer excited; she did not even speak, and
+she had never yet wept. Her manner towards Franco exhibited nothing but
+pity for this man who loved her, and whose affection and presence were,
+in spite of herself, perfectly indifferent to her. Franco, relying upon
+obtaining the position his director had talked so much about, had
+proposed taking the whole family back to Turin with him. Uncle Piero,
+poor old man, was quite ready to make this new sacrifice, but Luisa had
+stated explicitly that rather than leave her little daughter, she would
+end her days in the lake.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Upon hearing the proposal to start without Ismaele, Franco rose and said
+he would go and take leave of his wife. Just at that moment the lawyer
+heard a step in the street below. "Silence!" said he. "Here he is."
+Franco went out to the terrace. Some one was, indeed, coming from the
+direction of Albogasio. Franco waited until the wayfarer had reached the
+church-place, and then called out in a low voice:
+
+"Ismaele?"
+
+"It is I," a voice answered that was not Ismaele's. "It is the prefect.
+I am coming up-stairs."
+
+The prefect at that hour? What could have happened? Franco went to the
+kitchen, lighted a candle, and then hastened downstairs.
+
+Five minutes passed and he had not returned to his friends. But
+meanwhile Ismaele's wife had appeared to say that her husband was
+feeling very ill, and could not stir. She stood in the square, and spoke
+to Pedraglio, who was on the terrace. He hastened to summon Franco, and
+found him on the stairs, coming up with the prefect. "The guide is ill,"
+said he, knowing the priest to be an honest man. "Let us start at once,
+and not waste any more time." Franco replied that he could not start
+immediately, and that they must go on ahead. How was this? Why could he
+not start? No, he could not. He ushered the prefect into the hall,
+called the lawyer, and tried to persuade both Pedraglio and him to start
+at once. Something extraordinary had happened, about which he must
+consult his wife, and he could not say what he might decide to do. His
+friends protested that they would not forsake him. The jovial Pedraglio,
+who was in the habit of spending more money than his father approved
+of, observed that if the worst came to the worst, they would be able to
+live more economically and more virtuously at Josephstadt or Kufstein
+than in Turin, and that this would be a consolation to his "governor."
+"No, no!" exclaimed Franco. "You must go! Prefect, you persuade them!"
+And he went towards the alcove-room.
+
+"Are you ready to start?" said Luisa, in that voice which seemed to come
+from a far-away world. "Good-bye."
+
+He came to her side, and stooped to kiss the little stocking she held.
+"Luisa," he whispered, "the Prefect of Caravina is here." She did not
+express the slightest astonishment. "Grandmother sent for him an hour or
+two ago," Franco continued. "She told him she had seen our Maria,
+shining like an angel."
+
+"Oh, what a lie!" Luisa exclaimed, in a tone full of contempt, but not
+angrily. "As if it were possible she would go to her and not come to
+me!"
+
+"Maria has touched her heart," Franco went on. "She begs us to pardon
+her. She fears she is dying, and entreats me to come to her, to bring
+her a word of peace from you also."
+
+Franco himself did not believe in the apparition, being profoundly
+sceptical of everything that was supernatural outside of religion, but
+he did believe that Maria, in her higher state, had already been able to
+work a miracle, and touch his grandmother's heart, and the thought
+caused him indescribable emotion. Luisa remained like ice. She was not
+even irritated, as Franco had feared she would be, by the proposal to
+send a friendly message. "Your grandmother fears hell," she observed
+with her mortal coldness. "Hell does not exist, and so all this amounts
+to nothing more than a fright. The suffering is not great. Let her bear
+it, and then die as we all must, and so, 'Amen.'" Franco saw it would be
+useless to insist. "Then I will go," said he. She was silent.
+
+"I don't think I shall be able to come back this way," Franco added. "I
+shall have to take to the hills."
+
+Still no answer.
+
+"Luisa!" the young man said softly. Reproach, grief, passion, all these
+were in his appeal. Luisa's hands, that had never once paused in their
+work, now became still. She murmured:
+
+"I no longer feel anything. I am like a stone."
+
+Franco turned faint. He kissed his wife on her hair, said good-bye, and
+then entered the alcove, where, kneeling beside the little bed, he threw
+his arms across it, recalling his treasure's little voice: "One kiss
+more, papa!" A paroxysm of weeping assailed him, but he controlled
+himself, and hurriedly left the room.
+
+In the hall his friends were impatiently awaiting his return. How could
+they start? They did not know the way. The lawyer was, indeed,
+acquainted with the Boglia road, but was that the best way to go if they
+wished to avoid the guards? On hearing that Franco was going to
+Cressogno they were filled with amazement, and Pedraglio gave vent to
+his indignation, saying it was shameful to forsake his friends in this
+fashion, when they were in trouble. When the prefect realised how
+matters stood he took Pedraglio's part, and offered to explain Franco's
+absence to his grandmother, and proposed that Franco should write a line
+or two, which he himself would carry to Cressogno. But Franco was
+convinced that his Maria wished him to take this step, and he would not
+yield. He suddenly remembered that the prefect was as familiar as a hare
+with all the mountain paths. "You go!" said he, addressing the priest.
+"You accompany them!" The prefect was about to reply that perhaps the
+Signora Marchesa might need him, when the lawyer exclaimed: "Hush! Look
+there!"
+
+Directly in front of the house, where the shadow of Monte Bisgnago lay
+obliquely upon the rippling water, a boat had stopped. Franco recognised
+the customs-guards' launch.
+
+"I am willing to wager those hogs are watching for us," Pedraglio
+murmured. "They are afraid we shall escape by boat. Anyway, they are on
+the lookout."
+
+"Hush!" the lawyer repeated, approaching the window that overlooked the
+church-place.
+
+All held their breath in silence.
+
+"Children," said V., turning quickly from the window, "we are done for!"
+Franco went to the window, and saw a solitary figure running towards
+the house. He concluded the lawyer had given a false alarm, but the
+man--it was he who went by the nickname of "the hunted hare," and who
+knew and saw everything--flung two words upwards as he passed beneath
+the window: "The police!" At the same moment they heard the noise of
+many feet. "Come with me! You also, Prefect!" cried Franco, and the
+others following, he made for the little courtyard between the house and
+the hillside, and, passing through a woodshed, reached the short cut
+that leads to Albogasio Superiore. It was so dark that no one noticed a
+customs-guard, standing, carbine in hand, not two steps from the door of
+the wood-shed. Fortunately this guard, a certain Filippini, from Busto,
+was an honest fellow, who ate the bread of Austria unwillingly, and
+simply because he could find no other. "Be quick!" said he in an
+undertone. "Cut across the fields, and then take the Boglia road! The
+path below the Madonnina on the left." Franco thanked the man, and, with
+his companions, started up the steep path that comes out on the narrow
+communal road of Albogasio Superiore. Half-way up they all jumped into a
+field of maize on the right, and stopped to listen. They heard steps on
+the stairs leading upwards from the church-place, and then on the path
+where the guard was posted. Evidently the police wished to make sure
+that all the exits were well guarded. The four crawled swiftly away
+through the maize, and on reaching the spot below a great boulder
+called "Lori's Rock," they stopped to hold a consultation. They might
+take the path that comes out on the Albogasio road at the very door of
+Pasotti's garden, and then climb up from field to field, as far as the
+Boglia road. But the path would be hard to find at this hour, and
+fearing to lose too much time, they determined to make for the stairway
+that leads up from Albogasio Inferiore to Puttini's house, then, leaving
+Casa Puttini on the right, they could reach the Boglia road in no time.
+It was already less dark. In one way this was a disadvantage, but at
+least it would enable them to find their way through that labyrinth of
+small fields and low walls. All were silent. Only Pedraglio would utter
+an oath in Milanese from time to time, as he stumbled over a stone or
+scratched his hands on a hedge. Then the others would hush him. They
+reached the narrow stairway preceded by the prefect, who jumped walls
+and hedges like a squirrel. When they were all together on the stairs
+Franco withdrew from the group. On the Boglia road they would not need
+him; he was going to Cressogno. In vain Pedraglio seized him by the arm,
+in vain the prefect implored him not to expose himself to certain
+arrest, and probable imprisonment. He believed he was obeying Maria's
+voice, and felt that he was acting according to the dictates of
+conscience. He tore himself from Pedraglio, and disappeared up the
+stairs, for he did not wish to go to Cressogno by way of S.
+Mamette--that would be too dangerous.
+
+"Follow me!" said the prefect. "The man is mad, and we have ourselves to
+think of."
+
+As they were about to turn the corner of Puttini's house, they heard
+people approaching who were probably going down the stairs. The door of
+Puttini's house was open. The friends slipped inside. The people passed,
+talking. They were peasants, and one was saying: "Where the deuce can he
+be going at this hour?" Alas, they had met and recognised Franco! If the
+gendarmes and the guards should start out to hunt for the fugitives and
+come across these people, they would discover a trace at once. Towards
+dawn one is always sure of meeting people. This time they had been able
+to avoid being seen, but a second time they might be less fortunate, and
+a meeting might prove as fatal to Pedraglio and the lawyer as this one
+would probably prove to Franco. "If you could only disguise yourselves
+as peasants!" said the priest. A happy thought struck the lawyer, who
+had something both of the poet and the artist, and who was well
+acquainted with Puttini. He would take _Scior Zacomo's_ clothes for
+Pedraglio, who was also short, and the big, fat servant's clothes for
+himself; stuff their own things into a _gerla_,[Q] fasten it upon his
+back, and start for Boglia. The "first political deputy" of Albogasio
+might have a hundred reasons for visiting the forest belonging to the
+commune. No sooner said than done! They proceeded upstairs, and the
+prefect, who was familiar with the house, went straight to call
+Marianna. She did not answer, and her room was empty. The prefect
+guessed at once that the unfaithful servant had gone to S. Mamette for
+some secret business transaction, like that of the oil. That was why
+they had found the door open. They went to the kitchen and lighted two
+candles. The lawyer took one and the prefect pointed out _Scior
+Zacomo's_ room to him. Meanwhile Pedraglio explored the kitchen by
+the light of the other candle, in search of "something wet, something to
+brace him up."
+
+_Scior Zacomo_ slept in a corner room beyond the hall which the lawyer
+crossed on tiptoe, picking his way between piles of chestnuts, walnuts,
+filberts, and pears. He approached the door--it was closed. He
+listened--silence. Very slowly he turned the handle and pushed. The
+beastly door squeaked--he heard a formidable snort, and _Scior Zacomo_
+cried out angrily: "Go away! Let me alone! Go away!" The lawyer entered
+without further parley. "Away with you, you accursed woman! Go away, I
+tell you!" cried _Scior Zacomo_, the point of his white night-cap rising
+out of the pillows. On catching sight of the lawyer he began to groan:
+"Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! Oh, dear me! For pity's sake, forgive me! I
+thought it was my servant. Most distinguished Advocate, for the love of
+Heaven, tell me what has happened."
+
+"Nothing, nothing, _Scior Zacomo_!" said the lawyer. "Only the
+Commissary of Porlezza is here----"
+
+"Oh, good Lord!" and _Scior Zacomo_ started to stick his legs out of
+bed.
+
+"It is nothing, nothing! Be calm, be calm! Cover yourself up; cover
+yourself up again! We are going up to Boglia on account of that accursed
+bull, you know."
+
+"Oh, Lord! What are you talking about? There is no bull at Boglia at
+this time of the year. Oh! I am all bathed in sweat!"
+
+"Never mind. I tell you we are going to see the place, to see where he
+used to be. But the Commissary has very good reasons for strictly
+forbidding you to accompany us; he forbids you, moreover, to go out
+until we return, and he has even ordered me to remove your clothes."
+
+Then he began rapidly collecting Puttini's garments, commanding him in
+the name of the Commissary to be silent. He took possession of the tall
+hat, seized the bamboo walking-stick, ordered the wretched man to bolt
+the door as soon as he should have left the room, and to open it to no
+one, to speak to no one, until the Commissary's return; all this in the
+name of that dreaded functionary. Then, leaving the poor man more dead
+than alive, he once more joined his companions, who, by dint of much
+searching, had found a filthy dress of Marianna's, a big, red kerchief
+for the head, a _gerla_, and a bottle of _Anesone triduo_.[R] "The
+deuce!" swore the lawyer, on examining the loathsome garments he must
+don. His disguise was indeed most unsatisfactory. The skirt was too
+short, and the kerchief did not hide his face sufficiently. However
+there was no time to look for anything better. But Pedraglio, in the
+tall hat, with the bamboo walking-stick in his hand, was a perfect
+_Scior Zacomo_. The lawyer thrust an old manuscript pamphlet he found in
+the kitchen under his friend's arm, and showed him how to walk and puff.
+Finally he took the keys to the wine-cellar, two enormous keys, gave one
+to Pedraglio and put the other in his own pocket. These would prove
+valuable weapons in case of need; one, he said, would strike in the
+treble key, the other in the bass. And so they went out, the prefect
+first, followed by the false _Scior Zacomo_ puffing like a steam-engine,
+and then the false Marianna and her _gerla_ bringing up the rear. Hardly
+had they reached the street when the real Marianna appeared, returning
+from S. Mamette with an empty flask. Catching sight of her master's tall
+hat looming in the uncertain light, she faced about and made off as fast
+as her legs would carry her.
+
+"Miserable thief!" the prefect exclaimed. "Excellent! Your disguise is
+splendid!" In five minutes they had reached the Boglia road. Then the
+prefect turned homewards, and presently, hearing people coming up from
+Albogasio Superiore talking of gendarmes and guards, he went to meet
+them and inquired what had happened. Oh, nothing very important; only
+the gendarmes and soldiers had been to Casa Ribera to arrest Don Franco
+Maironi, and, it would appear, lawyer V. also, for they were sure he
+must have been there, and they had been asking every one about him.
+However, they had found neither one nor the other of the friends,
+although the customs-guards had been watching the house since midnight.
+Now the police were searching all the houses in Oria, in the belief that
+the two men must have escaped by the roof. While the prefect was
+listening to this news a boy came running towards them from the
+direction of Albogasio Superiore. They stopped him. "The guards!" he
+gasped; "the gendarmes!" He was as white as a sheet; why he was running
+away he himself could not tell, and they found it impossible to gather
+from him where the gendarmes were. A woman appeared on the scene who was
+able to give them more information. Four customs-guards and four
+gendarmes had just now crossed the square in Albogasio Superiore. It was
+rumoured that Don Franco had been seen on the road to Castello, and two
+gendarmes with two guards had started towards the Boglia. The priest
+shuddered. "Of course," some one said, "they will cut him off on the
+Boglia road." The prefect took some comfort in the thought that both
+gendarmes and guards were now searching for Franco only. He was so tall,
+so slender, that neither the false Puttini nor the false Marianna could
+possibly be suspected of being him. Their fate was now beyond his
+control, but for Franco he could still do much. He started for
+Cressogno, confident that Franco would reach that place in safety, if
+the gendarmes did not discover any fresh traces, for they would search
+for him on all the paths leading from Castello to the frontier, but not
+on the road to Cressogno.
+
+Pedraglio and the lawyer accomplished the first part of the journey from
+Albogasio to the stables of Pus, creeping up the precipitous slope like
+cats, with long and cautious steps. The lawyer advanced in silence, but
+the other was continually cursing his garments in an undertone. That
+"beastly hat," that made his forehead slippery with grease, that
+"infernal tail-coat," that smelt strong of the sweat of ages. They
+reached Pus without having met a living being. At Pus an old woman came
+out from between the stables just after they had passed, and exclaimed
+in amazement: "You up here, _Scior Giacomo_? At this hour?" "Puff!"
+murmured the lawyer, and Pedraglio began to blow, "Apff! Apff!" like a
+pair of bellows. "Such paths as these take the breath away, my good
+sir," said the old woman. They met no one else until they reached
+Sostra.
+
+Sostra, a stable about half-way up the mountain, with a barn, a shed,
+and a cistern, lies some distance back from the path. That path is the
+very worst in the whole of Valsolda. It would make even a wild goat hang
+its tongue out. Pedraglio and the lawyer, panting and wet through with
+perspiration, turned into the Sostra for a moment's rest. There all was
+silence and solitude. At that height they already breathed a different
+air. And how much lower the mountain-tops had become! And the lake down
+there in the depths looked like a river! The lawyer cast anxious glances
+upwards towards the first crest of the Boglia, where the great beech
+forest begins. Only half an hour more of climbing! "Come along!" said
+he. But Pedraglio, in whose legs there still lingered the memory of that
+other long walk from Loveno to Oria by way of the Passo Stretto, wanted
+to rest a little longer, and began calmly turning over the leaves of
+Puttini's old manuscript. It was a monkish poem by some unknown
+Cremonese of the seventeenth century. "Come along," his companion
+repeated after a minute or two, and was already preparing to rise when
+he heard some one approaching. He had barely time to whisper, "Look
+out!" and turn his back that his face might not be seen. Pedraglio,
+though he kept his manuscript close to his nose, saw first two
+customs-guards and then two gendarmes appear upon the path. He warned
+his friend of this in a low tone, and without turning his head. The two
+guards halted. One of them saluted: "My respects, Signor Puttini."
+Turning to the gendarmes, he said: "This gentleman is the first
+political deputy of Albogasio." The gendarmes saluted also, and
+Pedraglio raised his hat, and held the manuscript a little higher. The
+guards wished to rest awhile, but one of the gendarmes ordered them to
+move on, and when the rest of the company had started forward, he
+himself approached the Sostra. He was from Ampezzo, and spoke Italian
+very fluently. "You dog! I hope you don't know me!" thought Pedraglio,
+vaguely conscious of his dual personality. "We are in for it, anyway!"
+
+"_Signor Deputato Politico_," said the man, "did you happen to see
+Signor Maironi at Oria this morning?"
+
+"I? No, indeed. Signor Maironi is in bed and asleep at this hour."
+
+"And you yourself----where are you going?"
+
+"I am going up that mountain, up that accursed Boglia, to see about the
+communal bull."
+
+"Idiot!" groaned the lawyer inwardly. "He is making it communal now!"
+But the "communal" was allowed to pass unchallenged. The gendarme, who
+had a face like a bull-dog, stared hard at his interlocutor. "You are a
+political deputy," said he insolently, "and you wear that thing on your
+chin?" Instinctively Pedraglio's hand went to his thin, black, pointed
+beard, the abhorred beard of the liberals. "I will cut it off," said he,
+with mock seriousness. "Most certainly, my dear sir! Are you also going
+up the Boglia!" Very stiffly the gendarme moved away, without answering,
+and all unconscious of the shameful gibbet to which the political deputy
+was consigning him.
+
+The two friends congratulated themselves on their narrow escape, but
+they recognised that the game had become very serious. Now they had the
+guards to reckon with, who knew Puttini well, and they must find a means
+of avoiding them. And what if that bull-dog of a gendarme should blab
+about the beard? "Come on! Come on!" said the lawyer. "Let us follow
+them, and if we see or hear them turn back we must take to our heels and
+make off to the left, towards the frontier." This would have been a
+desperate move, for they were unacquainted with the ground, with which
+the guards were undoubtedly familiar.
+
+But in order to catch up with his companions the bull-dog had to sweat
+and pant so hard that when he reached them he had no desire left to
+speak of beards. Pedraglio and the lawyer climbed slowly upwards, and
+saw the enemy reach the crest of the hill at the Madonnina beech-tree.
+There they halted for some time and then disappeared.
+
+The venerable beech-tree, which had the honour of bearing upon its trunk
+an image of the Madonna, which, on its death, it bequeathed to a small
+chapel, stood like a sentinel before the great forest of Boglia, like a
+soldier posted in this dip of the crest, to keep watch over the
+precipitous hillside, the lake, and the sloping ground of Valsolda. The
+venerable army of colossal beeches stood marshalled in another silent
+hollow between the slope of Colmaregia, the easily climbed Dorsi della
+Nave, the rocky base of the Denti di Vecchia or Canne d'Organo, and that
+other saddle of the Pian Biscagno, between Colmaregia and the Sasso
+Grande, and faced the depths of Val Colla from Lugano to Cadro. An open,
+grass-grown strip of ground stretched along the edge of the crest,
+between the Madonnina beech-tree and the forest. The two fugitives
+stopped to consider their position. Which way should they go? Should
+they look for the little path below the beech-tree, of which the guard
+who had saved them had spoken, or should they enter the forest? No, it
+would be unwise to take to the woods, in the wake of the game they had
+just seen enter them. In the forest they were sure to find the dead
+leaves lying ankle-deep, and it would be impossible to pass through
+without attracting the attention of the blood-hounds that were roaming
+there, and their disguise would not bear close inspection. The path?
+There were more paths than one beneath the beech-tree. Which was the
+right one? Pedraglio swore at the absent Franco for not having
+accompanied them, but the lawyer was studying the Colmaregia, which
+could be climbed without entering the forest. He had twice made the
+ascent of the Colmaregia, that superb, slender, grass-grown peak of the
+Boglia, which the line of the frontier cuts in halves. He knew that from
+there they would be able to descend to the Swiss village of Bre, and he
+resolved to try that route. No one was visible on the crest that rises
+from the Madonnina beech towards the Colmaregia, and the summit was
+enveloped in clouds.
+
+Just below the beech-tree they were overtaken by a wave of mist which
+had rolled up one side of the mountain and was rapidly pouring down the
+other; a cold, thick mist, a mist "as bad as they make them," so V.
+said. They could not see five steps ahead, and thus it happened that
+near the beech-tree Pedraglio ran almost into the arms of a
+customs-guard.
+
+He was one of the four, and had been told off to guard the open space
+between the brow of the hill and the forest. Catching sight of the
+little man in the top-hat, he exclaimed: "On the Boglia, Sig----" The
+lawyer quickly cast aside his _gerla_, and the guard did not finish his
+sentence, but stared a moment, open-mouthed, and then exclaimed: "How is
+this?"
+
+The lawyer did not wait for further explanations.
+
+"This is how it is," said he calmly, and drawing his fists into
+position on his breast, he hit out suddenly, and dealt the guard a
+tremendous blow in the stomach that sent him rolling on the grass, his
+heels in the air. In a flash Pedraglio was upon him, and snatched his
+carbine from him.
+
+"If you yell, you dog, I shall do for you!" said he. But how could he
+possibly yell? With a blow like that in the stomach, it was all he could
+do to breathe for at least fifteen minutes. In fact the man lay like one
+dead, and it was some time before they could even make him groan
+faintly: "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord!"
+
+"It's nothing, nothing at all," V. told him with his usual, mocking
+calm. "Shocks like that are good for the health. You will see. Now, my
+friend, you are just going to pick yourself up and stand nice and firm
+on your legs, and accompany us to Colmaregia. You will see how well you
+will be able to walk. I was careful not to use this." And he showed him
+the key.
+
+"Oh, what a blow!" groaned the guard. "Oh, what a terrible blow!"
+
+"It is indeed a rather stiff climb," the lawyer went on, taking the
+carbine from Pedraglio, "but with your permission we will help you up
+from behind with the point of this instrument. Thus climbing will become
+a delight. Then you must bear us company down to Bre. We will carry your
+carbine for you, but you, in return, must carry this little _gerla_. Is
+my meaning quite clear to you? Now, march!"
+
+But the wretched man could not get to his feet and they certainly could
+not leave him there and run the risk of his calling out for help.
+
+"Poor fellow!" said Pedraglio. "You hit him too hard."
+
+V. replied that he had touched him with the gentleness of a woman, and
+passing the carbine to Pedraglio, he seized the guard by the collar of
+his uniform, pulled him to his feet, and made him run his arms through
+the straps of the _gerla_.
+
+"Go ahead, you fraud!" said he. "March, lazy-bones!"
+
+Up, up, ever upwards they climbed through the thick mist. The hillside
+was extremely steep, and it was all they could do to find foothold
+between the clumps of soft grass. They slipped, they laboured with hands
+and feet, but they heeded naught, struggling ever upwards for freedom's
+sake. Up, up, ever upwards, through the thick mist, invisible as
+spirits, first the false Marianna, then the guard puffing and groaning
+under the heavy _gerla_, then the false _Scior Zacomo_ promising him a
+fine view from the top, and from time to time encouraging him with the
+point of the carbine. The carbine worked miracles. In half an hour the
+three had reached the crest, from whence the hill slopes down towards
+Bre, lying only a short distance below the summit. Then, sitting upon
+the grass, they let themselves slide rapidly downwards. Presently it
+began to rain, and the mist grew thinner, and below them, at their
+feet, they could see the red of the woodlands. _Scior Zacomo's_
+venerable top-hat was the first to reach the spot, hurled from above by
+Pedraglio with a joyful "Hurrah for Italy!" as he himself slid onwards,
+arm in arm with the guard. At Bre Pedraglio called the whole town
+together by firing off the carbine in sign of exultation, and then he
+distributed _anesone triduo_ among the men, and administered it in
+smaller doses to the girls. He begged the curate to allow him to hang
+the tail-coat in the church as a votive offering, sat down to eat with
+the guard, got the priest to preach him a sermon on the duty of
+pardoning blows in the stomach, and read a verse of the monkish poem to
+him, which ended thus:
+
+    At this point the good priest did exclaim:
+    My views are no longer the same.
+
+After this he had no difficulty in demonstrating to him that if this
+Padre Lanternone had suddenly changed his opinions, he, the guard, would
+be fully justified in changing his, and he finally persuaded him to
+desert. The guard ended by casting aside his uniform and donning the
+tail-coat, amidst the laughter and applause of all present. The only one
+who did not join in the laughter was the lawyer. "What may not have
+happened to poor Maironi?" said he.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Franco did not cross Castello. Upon reaching the little Rovaja chapel he
+hastened downwards by the path that leads to the fountain at Caslano,
+reached the narrow lane that goes to Casarico and followed it upwards as
+far as the last turning just below Castello, where the church of Puria
+becomes visible beneath its amphitheatre of crags; then he turned into
+the valley on the right, hastening along a path fit for goats only,
+climbed upwards once more below the church of Loggio, and reached Villa
+Maironi without having met any one.
+
+Carlo, the old servant who opened the door for him, nearly fainted with
+emotion as he kissed Franco's hands. At that moment the doctor was in
+the sick room. Franco decided to wait until he should come out, and
+meanwhile took the faithful old man into his confidence, telling that
+the gendarmes were at his heels. Dr. Aliprandi soon came out, and
+Franco, who knew him to be a patriot, confided in him also, for he must
+show himself, and make inquiries about his grandmother. Aliprandi had
+been called in the night, after the prefect had left for Oria. He had
+found the Marchesa in a state of nervous excitement, tormented by a
+terrible fear of death, but exhibiting no symptoms of illness. At
+present she seemed quite calm. Franco had her informed of his arrival,
+and was ushered into the room by the maid, who looked at him with
+obsequious curiosity, and then withdrew.
+
+The half-open shutters of the room where the Marchesa lay, admitted only
+two slanting streaks of grey light, which did not reach the face,
+thrown back upon the pillow. On entering Franco could not see that
+face, but he heard the familiar, sleepy voice saying:
+
+"Is that you, Franco?"
+
+"Yes, grandmother. Good-morning," and he stooped to kiss her. The waxen
+mask was unruffled, but there was a vague and gloomy expression about
+the eyes that seemed at once desire and terror. "I am dying, you know,
+Franco," said the Marchesa. Franco protested, and repeated what the
+doctor had said to him. His grandmother listened, gazing eagerly at him,
+trying to read in his eyes if the doctor had really spoken thus. Then
+she answered:
+
+"It makes no difference. I am quite ready."
+
+From the changed expression on her face and in her voice Franco
+understood perfectly that she was quite ready to live twenty years
+longer. "I am sorry for your bereavement," said she, "and I forgive
+you."
+
+Franco had not expected words of pardon from her. He had believed it was
+for him to bring forgiveness, not to receive it. Comforted and
+reassured, the Marchesa of every day was gradually reappearing beneath
+the Marchesa of an hour. She was willing to purchase peace of mind, but
+she was like the sordid miser who, having yielded to the temptation of
+gratifying some desire, allowed the price of his enjoyment to escape
+painfully from between his tightly-clasped fingers, trying the while to
+keep back as much as possible behind his nails. At another time
+Franco's wrath would have burst forth, he would have rejected that
+forgiveness angrily, but now, with his sweet Maria in his heart, he
+could not feel thus. He had however noticed that his grandmother had
+proffered her forgiveness to him alone. This was too much; he could not
+pass this over.
+
+"My wife, my wife's uncle, and I myself have suffered much beside this
+last bereavement," said he, "and now we have lost our only comfort.
+Uncle Ribera I leave out of the question; you, I myself, all must bow
+before him, but if my wife and I have sinned against you, let us make
+forgiveness mutual."
+
+This was a bitter pill, but the Marchesa swallowed it in silence.
+Although she no longer saw death at her bedside, her heart still
+trembled with the terror inspired by the apparition, and by certain
+words the prefect had spoken on hearing her confession. "I shall make a
+will," she said, "and I wish you to know that the whole Maironi property
+will go to you."
+
+Ah, Marchesa, Marchesa! Poor, icy creature! Did she believe she could
+purchase peace at this price? In this the prefect also had blundered,
+for it was he who had advised her to make this declaration to her
+grandson, kind, honest man that he was, but entirely without tact, and
+incapable of understanding Franco's lofty soul. The idea that she might
+think he had been prompted by sordid motives to come to her, was
+intolerable to Franco. "No, no!" he exclaimed, quivering, and fearing
+his hot temper would get the better of him after all. "No, no! Don't
+leave me anything. It will be quite enough if you will allow the
+interest on my own money to be paid at Oria. Grandmother, you must leave
+the Maironi property to the Ospitale Maggiore. I fear my ancestors did
+very wrong to keep it."
+
+His grandmother had not time to answer, for there came a knock at the
+door. The prefect entered, and offering as an excuse that he would tire
+the invalid, persuaded Franco to say good-bye. "You must make haste,"
+said he, when they were outside. "You have done more than your duty
+here. Too many people are now aware of your presence, and the gendarmes
+may appear at any moment. I have arranged everything with Aliprandi. He
+considers a consultation necessary for the Marchesa, and will take the
+Villa Maironi gondola and go to Lugano for a doctor. The two boatmen
+will be Carlo and yourself. There are those oil-cloth cloaks with hoods.
+Put on one of those and remain in the stern. Now we must shave off that
+pointed beard of yours, and then with the hood drawn over your head, no
+one will possibly be able to recognise you. You will be perfectly safe.
+Perhaps you may not even be obliged to put in at the customs-house. At
+any rate, they will not recognise you. If there is any talking to be
+done, Carlo can do it."
+
+The idea was good. The Marchesa's gondola was always looked upon by the
+agents of Austria with the greatest respect; as if it were carrying an
+egg of the double-headed eagle. Even when returning from Lugano it was
+made to stop at the customs-house simply _pro forma_.
+
+It was past eight o'clock when the gondola left the boathouse. From the
+lofty summits the mist had descended upon the lake, and it was raining.
+Sad, sad day! Sad, sad journey! Neither Franco, the servant, nor
+Aliprandi spoke a word. They passed S. Mamette and Casarico, and then,
+amidst the mist beyond the olives of Maine, the white walls of Maria's
+resting-place appeared. Franco's eyes filled with tears. "No, dear," he
+thought; "no, love; no, my life, you are not there; and I thank my God,
+who tells me not to believe this horrid thing!" A few strokes more and
+there was the little house of happy days, of bitter hours, of
+misfortune; there was the window of the room where Luisa was giving
+herself up to black grief, the loggia where, henceforth, poor old Uncle
+Piero would spend his days alone, that just man who was going down to
+the grave in silence, in tribulation, in weariness. Franco longed to
+know what had happened after his departure; if the police had worried
+Uncle Piero and Luisa. In vain he strained his eyes: no living being was
+to be seen either on the terrace, in the little garden, or at the
+windows of the loggia. All was silent, all was calm. He stopped rowing,
+searching for some sign of life. Dr. Aliprandi opened the door of the
+_felze_[S] and begged him to resume his rowing, begged him not betray
+himself. At that moment Leu came to the parapet of the little garden,
+with a jug in her hand; she glanced at the gondola and then entered the
+loggia. Uncle Piero must be in the loggia, and they were taking him the
+customary glass of milk, so probably nothing had happened. Franco once
+more began to row, and Dr. Aliprandi closed the door. They glided past
+the little garden, past the other houses of Oria, and the gondola turned
+towards the landing-stage of the customs-house.
+
+Bianconi, sitting under an umbrella and fishing for tench, spied the
+gondola, and, dropping his pole, came forward to pay his respects to the
+Marchesa. But he found Dr. Aliprandi instead, who so upset him by his
+alarming account of the lady that he felt called upon to summon his
+Peppina and impart the news to her; and Peppina, poor woman, was obliged
+to act a little comedy of affliction under her Carlascia's umbrella.
+Both husband and wife exhorted Aliprandi to make haste, to return
+quickly. The big mastiff gave him permission to cross directly from
+Gandria to Cressogno on the way back. Then the doctor turned to Franco,
+and gave the order to proceed. Franco had listened to the conversation
+standing motionless, his hands clasping his oar, and hoping to hear
+something about his friends or his family. But no word was breathed
+concerning either police, arrests, or flights, and Casa Ribera might
+have been in China. The gondola backed slowly away from the
+landing-stage, turned its prow towards Gandria, gliding ever further and
+further away until it had slipped across the frontier, and vanished in
+the mist.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On reaching the Lugano shore, Dr. Aliprandi opened the door, and called
+Franco into the little cabin. Their acquaintance was only slight, but
+they embraced like brothers. "When the cannonading begins I shall be
+there also," Aliprandi said.
+
+They must say good-bye here, and Franco must go ashore first and alone,
+for Lugano was full of spies and the doctor must also be cautious.
+Besides, Aliprandi was in no hurry. He was more anxious to find a
+boatman than a physician. Franco drew his hood over his eyes, stepped
+ashore and went directly to the Albergo della Corona.
+
+Some hours later, when the gondola had started homewards, he went out in
+search of some one from Valsolda who might give him news, and directed
+his steps towards the Fontana pharmacy. Under the arcades he met his two
+friends, who had just left the pharmacy. They fell upon his neck, and
+wept with emotion. They also had been in search of news, and at the
+pharmacy they had heard that Franco had been arrested. What joy to find
+him here, and to feel they were standing on free soil!
+
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[Q] _Gerla_: a basket the peasants both in Switzerland and in North
+Italy carry fastened upon their backs. [_Translator's note._]
+
+[R] _Anesone triduo_: a sort of very coarse and very strong anisette.
+[_Translator's note._]
+
+[S] _Felze_: the cover which is placed upon gondolas in winter or in bad
+weather. It forms a tiny cabin. [_Translator's note._]
+
+
+
+
+Part III
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+THE SAGE SPEAKS
+
+
+No less than three springs had come and gone since the autumn of 1855
+without bringing to the banks of the Ticino that mustering of armies and
+of banners that the Italians had expected. In February, 1859, all were
+convinced that a fourth spring could not pass thus. Great events, duly
+pre-announced by a splendid comet, were approaching. The old world was
+quivering and creaking inwardly, as does a frozen river on the eve of a
+thaw. That deadly cold and awful silence which had lasted ten years, was
+about to disappear, to be swept away amidst the clamour of strife and
+destruction, by new currents, warm and brilliant. Carlascia was playing
+the braggart, and would talk to his guards (who made no comments) of an
+impending military expedition to Turin. Signor Puttini had never
+entirely recovered from the shock he had received on that memorable
+morning; and the lawyer's treachery, the tragic end of the top-hat, the
+comic end of the tail-coat, had deeply affected him, and he had lost
+all respect for patriots. Dr. Aliprandi was already in Piedmont. A
+veteran subaltern of the army of Napoleon, who lived in Puria, was
+secretly furbishing up his old uniform, with the intention of presenting
+himself before the French Emperor when he should enter Italy. Whenever
+Intrioni, the curate of Castello, met Don Giuseppe Costabarbieri, he
+would remind him of a certain rhyme of 1796 which he, Don Giuseppe, had
+gone about repeating in 1848, but which he had soon hidden away again.
+
+    The mighty Ulans
+    Came here from Hungary,
+    But the Frenchman's arms
+    Made them all promptly flee!
+
+Don Giuseppe, greatly alarmed, would cry: "Hush! Hush!"
+
+Meanwhile the violets continued to grow as peacefully on the slopes of
+Valsolda as if nothing were happening. On the evening of the twentieth
+of February, Luisa carried a bunch to the cemetery. She was still in
+mourning. Pallid and emaciated, her eyes had become larger, and there
+were many silver threads in her hair. She seemed to have grown twenty
+years older since her bereavement. Upon leaving the cemetery she turned
+towards Albogasio, and joined some women from Oria, who were going to
+recite the Rosary in the parish church. She no longer seemed the same
+dark phantom that had laid the violets on Maria's grave. She talked
+calmly, almost gaily, first with one, then with another of the women;
+inquired after a sick animal, praised and caressed a little girl who was
+going to the Rosary with her grandmother, and told her to sit very still
+in church, as her Maria had always done. She said this and mentioned
+Maria very quietly, but the women shuddered and were filled with
+astonishment, for Luisa herself never went to church now. She asked one
+of the girls if the young men were going to act a play as usual, and if
+her brother was to take part. Upon receiving an answer in the
+affirmative she offered to help with the costumes. She left the others
+on the church-place of the Annunciata, and as she went down the
+Calcinera alone her face once more resumed its spectral appearance.
+
+She was on her way to Casarico to see the Gilardonis, who had been
+married three years. The professor's happiness and his adoration of
+Ester would deserve to be told in verse! Uncle Piero said of him that he
+had grown feeble-minded. Ester feared he might become ridiculous, and
+would not allow him to assume certain ecstatic poses before her when
+there was anyone present. The only person in whose presence she did not
+insist upon the observance of this rule was Luisa. But Gilardoni always
+showed the greatest deference for Luisa; to him she was still a
+superhuman being; to his respect for the woman herself had been added
+his respect for her grief, and in her presence his behaviour was always
+most circumspect. Luisa had been going to Casa Gilardoni almost every
+evening for about two years now, and if anything could have troubled the
+couple's happiness it would have been these visits.
+
+Indeed, their motive was a strange one, and one repugnant to Ester, but
+Ester's affection for her friend, and her pity for her bereavement, were
+so great, while her heart was so full of remorse for not having looked
+after Maria more carefully on that terrible day, that she did not dare
+to resolutely oppose her wishes, or dissuade her husband from gratifying
+them. She expressed her disapproval to Luisa, and begged her at least to
+maintain secrecy concerning the nightly doings in the professor's study,
+but she went no further. The professor, on the contrary, would have
+enjoyed these seances had it not been for his wife's disapproval. It was
+already dark when Luisa rang the bell at the little door of Casa
+Gilardoni. Ester herself opened it. Luisa did not return her greeting,
+which she felt was full of embarrassment. She simply looked at her, but
+when they reached the little parlour on the ground-floor where Ester was
+in the habit of spending her evenings, she embraced her so passionately
+that Ester burst into tears. "Have patience with me!" Luisa said. "It is
+all that is left me!" Ester tried to comfort her, telling her that
+happier times were coming for her; that she and Franco would soon be
+reunited. In a few months Lombardy would be free, and Franco would come
+home. And then--and then--so many things might happen! Perhaps Maria
+might return! Luisa started violently and caught her friend's hands.
+"No!" she cried. "Do not say such things! Never! Never! I am all hers! I
+belong to Maria alone!" Ester could not answer, for at that point the
+smiling professor came bustling into the room.
+
+He saw that his wife's eyes were wet with tears and that Luisa was
+greatly excited. He greeted her very quietly and sat down in silence
+beside Ester, in the belief that they had been discussing the usual
+subject, which was so painful to his wife. She would have liked to send
+him away and resume her conversation with Luisa, but did not venture to
+do so. Luisa was shuddering at that spectre of future danger which would
+sometimes stand vaguely outlined before her mind's eye, but which she
+had always banished with horror, never pausing to examine it, and which
+now, evoked by her friend's words, rose before her, naked and distinct.
+After a long and painful silence Ester sighed, and said in a low voice:
+
+"You may go if you like. Go, both of you."
+
+Luisa, moved by an impulse of gratitude, fell on her knees before her
+friend and buried her face in her lap. "You know," she said, "I no
+longer believe in God. At first I thought there must be a cruel God, but
+now I do not believe in the existence of any God. But if a loving God,
+such as He in whom you believe, did really, surely exist, He would not
+condemn a poor mother who has lost her only child, and who is
+struggling to persuade herself that a part of that child still lives!"
+
+Ester made no reply. Almost every night for two years Luisa and her
+husband had evoked the spirit of the dead child. Professor Gilardoni, in
+whom there was a strange mingling of the free-thinker and the mystic,
+had read with great interest the marvellous tales that were told
+concerning the Fox sisters--Americans--and the experiments of Eliphas
+Levi, and had closely followed the spiritualistic movement which had
+spread rapidly in Europe, in the form of a mania that upset both heads
+and tables. He had spoken to Luisa about this movement, and Luisa,
+possessed and blinded by the idea that she might ascertain if her child
+did still exist, in which case she might in some way be able to
+communicate with her, seeing nothing else in all the marvellous facts
+and strange theories save this one luminous point, had besought him to
+make some experiments with Ester and herself. Ester believed in nothing
+supernatural outside the doctrines of Christianity, and did not,
+therefore, take the matter seriously. She willingly consented to place
+her hands on a small table, in the company of her friend and her
+husband, who, on the contrary, exhibited great zeal, and had faith in
+their chances of success. The first experiments were disappointing.
+Ester, who found them tedious, would have liked to discontinue the
+attempts, but one evening, after twenty minutes of waiting, the little
+table tipped to one side, lifted a leg in the air, righted itself, and
+then tipped again, to Ester's great chagrin, but to the great joy of
+Luisa and the professor. The next night five minutes sufficed to make
+the table move. The professor taught them the alphabet, and then tried
+to summon a spirit. The table responded, knocking with its leg upon the
+floor according to the alphabet that had been arranged. The spirit
+evoked gave its name: Van Helmont. Ester was frightened and trembled
+like a leaf; the professor was trembling also, but with excitement. He
+wished to tell Van Helmont that he had his works in his library, but
+Luisa besought him to inquire where Maria was. Van Helmont answered:
+"Near!" Then Ester rose, as pale as a ghost, protesting that she would
+not continue, and neither Luisa's tears nor entreaties could move her.
+It was sinful, sinful! Ester's religious sense was not deep, but she had
+a wholesome fear of hell and the devil. For some time it had been
+impossible to resume the seances--she had a horror of them, and her
+husband did not venture to oppose her wishes. It was Luisa who, by dint
+of prayers and entreaties, at last obtained a compromise. The seances
+were resumed, but Ester took no part in them.
+
+She did not even wish to know what took place. Only, whenever her
+husband seemed worried or preoccupied, she would throw out an uneasy
+allusion to the secret dealings in the study. Then he would be troubled,
+and offer to desist, but Ester had not the courage to face Luisa. For
+she had discovered indirectly that Luisa really believed she held
+communication with the child's spirit. Once she had said: "I shall not
+come to-morrow night because Maria does not wish it." At another time
+she had said: "I am going up to Looch because Maria wants a flower from
+her grandmother's grave." To Ester it seemed incredible that a head so
+clear and strong could be thus deluded. At the same time she realised
+the extreme difficulty of convincing her by gentle means, and all the
+cruelty of using harsh measures with her.
+
+The professor lit a candle and went upstairs to the study, followed by
+Luisa. We are acquainted with this study that was like a ship's cabin,
+its shelves filled with books, its little fireplace, its windows
+overlooking the lake and the armchair in which Maria had gone to sleep
+one Christmas Eve. The room now contained something else. Between the
+fireplace and the window stood a small round table, with one central leg
+only, that branched out into three feet, about a hand's breadth from the
+floor.
+
+"I am very sorry to cause Ester so much pain," said the professor as
+they entered the room. He placed the light on the writing-desk, but
+instead of preparing the little table and the chairs as usual he went to
+look out of the window at the pale light on the water and in the sky,
+amidst the surrounding shadows of night. Luisa stood motionless, and
+suddenly he faced about as if some magnetism had revealed her anguish to
+him. He saw appalling anguish on her face, and understood that she
+believed he had made up his mind to stop the seances, whereas he had
+only been tempted to do so, and, greatly moved, he seized her hands,
+telling her that Ester was good, that she loved her so much, that
+neither he nor she would ever willingly cause her suffering. Luisa did
+not answer, but the professor had all he could do to prevent her kissing
+his hand. While he was arranging the little table and the two chairs in
+the centre of the floor, she sank into the armchair, in a state of great
+depression.
+
+"There!" said the professor.
+
+Drawing a letter from her pocket Luisa handed it to him.
+
+"I need Maria and you so much to-night," said she. "Read that. It is
+from Franco. You can begin with the fourth page." The professor did not
+hear these last words, but going to the light, began to read aloud:
+
+                                    "Turin, _February 18, 1859_.
+     "My OWN LUISA,--
+
+     "Do you know you have not written to me for a fortnight!"
+
+     "You can skip that," said Luisa, but at once corrected herself.
+     "No, perhaps you had better read it." The professor continued.
+
+     "This is my third letter to you since yours of the sixth.
+     Perhaps I was too violent in my first letter, and wounded you.
+     What a temper is this of mine, that makes me speak, and
+     sometimes even write such harsh words when my blood is up! And
+     what blood is this of mine that at two-and-thirty is as quick
+     to boil as at two-and-twenty! Forgive me, Luisa, and permit me
+     to return to the subject, and take back those words that may
+     have offended you.
+
+     "At present there is no more talk here either of tables or of
+     spirits, but only of diplomacy and war; in former years,
+     however, spiritualism was very widely discussed, and several
+     persons I both respect and esteem believed in it. I knew
+     positively that many among them were simply deluded but I never
+     doubted their good faith when they told me of conversations
+     they had had with spirits. It would indeed seem that our
+     imagination, when inflamed, can make us see and hear things
+     that do not really exist. But I am willing to admit that in
+     your case you are not deceived by your imagination; that your
+     little table does really move and express itself exactly as you
+     say. I was wrong to doubt this--I confess it--in the first
+     place because you are so sure of not being mistaken, and
+     secondly, because I am well aware of Professor Gilardoni's
+     honesty. But to me this is a question of sentiment. I know that
+     my sweet Maria lives with God, and I cherish the hope that some
+     time I, with other souls dear to me, may go where she is. If
+     she should appear before me unbidden, if, without having
+     summoned her, I should hear the sound of her voice, clear and
+     distinct, perhaps I should not be able to bear such joy. But I
+     could never summon her, never force her to come to me. The
+     thought is repugnant to me; it is contrary to that sense of
+     veneration I feel for a Being who is so much nearer God than I
+     am. Dear Luisa, I also speak to our treasure every day, speak
+     to her of myself and of you as well; I am convinced that she
+     sees us, that she loves us, that she can still do much for us
+     even in this life. How I wish that your intercourse with her
+     might be of the same nature! If, in answering your letter in
+     which you allude to a communication from her I expressed myself
+     too harshly, forgive me, not only in consideration of my hasty
+     temper, but still more in consideration of my sentiments, which
+     are indeed a part of my nature.
+
+     "Forgive me also in consideration of the atmosphere of intense
+     excitement in which I am living here. My throat is perfectly
+     well. Since war has been talked of, I have cast aside both
+     camphor and sedative waters, but my nerves are in a state of
+     such extraordinary tension that it seems as if, were they
+     touched, sparks must fly from them. All this is partly due to
+     the amount of work to be accomplished at the Home Office, where
+     it is no longer a question of regular hours, but where even the
+     humblest secretary, if he be conscientious, must strain every
+     muscle. When I first obtained this position through the
+     kindness of Count Cavour, I felt I was not really earning the
+     bread the government gave me. This is no longer the case, but I
+     am about to withdraw from this field of strenuous labour; and
+     this brings me to another topic, to something I have long had
+     in my heart, and which I now impart to you with feelings of
+     indescribable emotion.
+
+     "In a week my friends and I are going to enlist in the army as
+     volunteers, for the duration of the coming campaign. We are
+     entering the ninth infantry regiment, stationed in Turin. Here
+     at the Home Office they would like to keep me some time longer,
+     but I intend to become familiar with my duties in the regiment
+     before the campaign opens, and I have therefore simply promised
+     not to leave the Office until the day before we enlist.
+
+     "Luisa, we have not seen each other for three years and almost
+     five months! It is true you are under police surveillance, and
+     that you may not go to Lugano, but I have several times
+     proposed means to you of meeting me, at least at the frontier,
+     or on the mountains, and you have never even answered. I
+     believed I knew why. It was because you could not tear yourself
+     away even for a short time, from a certain sacred spot. This
+     seemed too much, and I confess I had many bitter feelings. Then
+     I reproached myself, I felt I was selfish, and I forgave you.
+     Now, Luisa, circumstances have changed. I have no forebodings
+     of evil; indeed, it seems impossible that I should be destined
+     to end my days on a battlefield, nevertheless this is not
+     impossible. I am going to take part in a war that promises to
+     be one of the greatest, one of the longest and most desperate,
+     for if Austria is risking her Italian provinces, we, and
+     perhaps Emperor Napoleon as well, are risking everything. It is
+     said we shall spend next winter beneath the walls of Verona.
+     Luisa, I cannot run the risk of dying without seeing you once
+     more. I shall have only twenty-four hours, I cannot come to the
+     frontier or to Lugano, and I should not be satisfied to spend
+     ten minutes with you. Ask Ismaele to get you to Lugano in some
+     way on the morning of the twenty-fifth of this month. Leave
+     Lugano in time to reach Magadino at one o'clock, for you cannot
+     go by way of Luino. At Magadino you must take the boat that
+     leaves at about half-past one. At four or thereabouts you will
+     reach Isola Bella, where I shall arrive at about the same hour
+     from Arona. At this time of year Isola Bella is a desert. We
+     can spend the evening together, and in the morning you will
+     leave for Oria, I for Turin.
+
+     "I am writing to Uncle Piero to ask his forgiveness for
+     depriving him of your company for one day.
+
+     "I do not apprehend any danger. The Austrians are thinking only
+     of their arms, and their police are letting thousands of young
+     men escape them, young men who come here to take up arms. The
+     Austrians would be terrible the day after a victory, but, God
+     willing! that day shall never dawn for them.
+
+     "Luisa, can it be possible I shall not find you at Isola Bella,
+     that you may think you are pleasing Maria by not coming? But
+     don't you know that if some one had said to my Maria, to my
+     poor little darling--run and say good-bye to your papa, who is
+     perhaps going away to die--how fast----"
+
+The reader's voice trembled, broke, and was lost in a sob. Luisa hid her
+face in her hands. He placed the letter on her knees, saying with
+difficulty: "Donna Luisa, can you hesitate?"
+
+"I am wicked," Luisa murmured. "I am mad!"
+
+"But do you not love him?"
+
+"Sometimes I think I love him very much, at other times not at all."
+
+"My God!" the professor exclaimed. "But now? Are you not moved by the
+thought that you may never see him again?"
+
+Luisa was silent, she seemed to be crying. Suddenly she started to her
+feet, pressing her hands to her temples, and fixed her eyes on the
+professor's face, eyes in which there were no tears, but in which there
+shone a sinister and angry light. "You don't know," she cried, "what
+there is here in my head! What a mass of contradictions, how many
+opposite thoughts that are struggling together, and always changing
+places with each other! When I received the letter I cried bitterly, and
+said to myself. 'Yes, my poor Franco, this time I will go!'--And then
+there came a voice that spoke here in my forehead, and said: 'No, you
+must not go because--because--because----'"
+
+She ceased speaking, and the professor, terrified by the flashes of
+madness he saw in those eyes that were fixed on his, did not dare to ask
+for an explanation. The eyes, which still stared into his, gradually
+softened and became veiled with tears. Luisa took his hands, and said
+gently, timidly: "Let us ask Maria."
+
+They sat down at the table and placed their hands upon it. The professor
+sat with his back to the light, which fell full upon Luisa's face. The
+little table was in the shadow. After eleven minutes of profound
+silence, the professor murmured:
+
+"It is beginning to move."
+
+In fact the table was gradually leaning over to one side. Presently it
+righted itself, and knocked once, lightly. Luisa's face brightened.
+
+"Who are you?" said the professor. "Answer with the usual alphabet."
+
+There came seventeen, then fourteen, then eighteen knocks, and then one
+alone. "Rosa," said the professor softly. Rosa was a little sister of
+his wife's who had died in infancy, and the table had knocked out this
+name on several previous occasions. "Go away," said Gilardoni. "Send
+Maria to us."
+
+The table soon began to move again, and knocked out the words:
+
+"It is I, Maria!"
+
+"Maria, Maria, my own Maria!" whispered Luisa, her face assuming an
+expression of intense joy.
+
+"Do you know the contents of the letter your father has written to your
+mother?" Gilardoni inquired.
+
+The table answered:
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What is your mother to do?"
+
+Luisa was trembling from head to foot in anxious suspense. The table did
+not move.
+
+"Answer," said the professor.
+
+This time the table moved, but knocked out only an incomprehensible
+confusion of letters.
+
+"We do not understand. Repeat."
+
+The little table did not move again. "Repeat, I tell you!" said the
+professor, rather sharply.
+
+"No, no!" begged Luisa. "Don't insist. Maria does not wish to answer."
+But the professor was bound to insist. "It is not admissible that a
+spirit should not answer. You know very well we have often before been
+unable to understand what they said."
+
+Luisa rose, greatly agitated, saying that rather than force Maria she
+should prefer to cut the seance short. The professor remained seated,
+lost in thought. "Hush!" said he at last.
+
+The table moved and once more began to knock.
+
+"Yes!" exclaimed Gilardoni, his face radiant. "I inquired mentally if
+you should go, and the table has answered 'yes.' Now you yourself must
+ask aloud."
+
+Five or six minutes passed before the table began to move. In answer to
+Luisa's question: "Shall I go?" there came first thirteen, then fourteen
+knocks. The answer was "no."
+
+The professor turned pale, and Luisa questioned him with her eyes. He
+was silent for some time, and then said with a sigh:
+
+"Perhaps it was not Maria. Perhaps it was a lying spirit."
+
+"And how can we find out?" Luisa inquired anxiously.
+
+"We cannot find out. It is impossible."
+
+"Then how about the other communications? Is there never any certainty?"
+
+"Never."
+
+She lapsed into terrified silence. Then presently she murmured: "It was
+bound to end thus. This also was to be taken from me."
+
+She rested her forehead upon the table. The candle light fell upon her
+hair, upon her arms and hands. She was motionless, nothing moved in the
+room save the little flickering flame of the candle. Another little
+flame, the last light of hope and of comfort, was dying out in this poor
+head which had gone down before the onslaught of a bitter and invincible
+doubt. What could Gilardoni do or say? He saw that Ester's wish would
+soon be gratified, but not by his means. Three or four minutes later
+they heard Ester's voice, and steps on the floor below. Luisa rose
+slowly.
+
+"Let us go," said she.
+
+"Perhaps we should pray," Gilardoni observed without rising. "Perhaps we
+should ask the spirits if they confess Christ."
+
+"No, no, no!" Luisa exclaimed in an undertone, at the same time
+protesting with a hostile gesture. The professor silently took up the
+candle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+On her way back to Oria Luisa went up to the gate of the cemetery.
+Resting her forehead against it she sent a stifled good-bye towards
+Maria's grave, then she went down the hill again. On reaching the
+church-place she crossed over to the parapet and gazed down upon the
+lake sleeping in the shadow. She stood there some time, letting her
+thoughts roam at will. Placing her elbows on the parapet, she leaned
+forward and rested her face upon her hands, still gazing at the water,
+the water that had taken Maria. Her thoughts were beginning to take a
+definite shape, not within her, but down there in the water. She
+contemplated this shape. To die, to end it all! She was familiar with
+the thought, she had seen it once before when gazing into the water
+thus, long ago, before the experiments with the professor began. After
+that it had disappeared. But now it had returned again. It was a sweet
+and merciful thought, full of rest, of self-surrender, and of peace. It
+was good to gaze upon it now that her faith in the spirits was gone
+also. To die, to end it all! On that former occasion the image of her
+old uncle had been strong in helping to dispel the fascination. Now it
+was not so strong. Since Maria's death Uncle Piero had lapsed into a
+state of almost complete silence which Luisa believed to be the
+beginning of the apathy of old age. She did not understand that in the
+old man's soul profound disapproval was mingled with grief, nor did she
+understand how great was his aversion to these daily and repeated visits
+to the cemetery, the flowers, the mysterious journeys to Casarico, and
+above all, how he regretted her complete abandonment of the church. If
+she had not been so engrossed in her dead child she might have
+understood her uncle better, at least on this last point, the church,
+for now the silent old man himself went to Mass oftener than before, his
+heart returning to the religion of his father and mother, which,
+heretofore, he had practised coldly, from habit, and out of respect for
+family traditions. It seemed to Luisa that he had grown very dull, and
+that if only his personal needs were attended to, he would be quite
+content. Cia was there to attend to his comforts, and the means that had
+sufficed for three would be more than sufficient for two. Luisa thought
+she saw the water rise a hand's breadth. And Franco? Franco would be in
+despair, would mourn for a few years, and then he would be happier than
+ever. Franco knew the secret of speedy consolation. The water seemed to
+rise another hand's breadth.
+
+At the same moment in which she had approached the parapet, Franco,
+passing the church of S. Francesco di Paolo in Via di Po, had seen
+lights and heard the organ. He went in. Hardly had he said a short
+prayer when the one dominant thought took possession of him once more;
+the sound of the organ became the noise of trumpets and drums, the clash
+of arms; and while a hymn of peace was rising from the altar, he, in
+imagination, was furiously charging the enemy. Suddenly he saw before
+his mind's eye the image of Luisa, pale, and dressed in mourning. He
+began to think of her, to pray for her with intense fervour.
+
+Then, standing there on the church-place of Oria, she turned cold and
+was filled with dread, while the tempting thought gradually vanished.
+She tried to recall it, but could not. The water subsided. An inward
+voice said to her: "What if the professor be mistaken? What if it be not
+true that the table answered first yes and then no? what if it be not
+true about the lying spirits?" She drew back from the parapet, and with
+slow steps, went up to her house.
+
+She found her uncle in the kitchen sitting in the chimney-corner, the
+tongs in his hand, and his glass of milk beside him. Cia and Leu were
+sewing.
+
+"Well," said Uncle Piero, "I have been to the Custom-House. The
+Receiver is in bed with the jaundice, but I spoke with the
+_Sedentario_."
+
+"What about, uncle?"
+
+"About Lugano. About your journey to Lugano on the twenty-fifth. He has
+promised to close an eye and let you pass."
+
+Luisa was silent, and stood thoughtfully watching the fire. Presently
+she gave Leu some orders for the next day, and then begged her uncle to
+come into the parlour with her.
+
+"What for?" said he, with his habitual simplicity, "You can't have any
+great secrets to tell. Let us stay here where the fire is."
+
+Cia lit a candle. "We will go out," said she.
+
+The uncle made his usual grimace, expressive of compassion for the
+weaknesses of others, but remained silent. Draining his glass of milk,
+he passed it to Luisa. She took the glass, and said softly: "I have not
+decided yet."
+
+"What?" the uncle exclaimed sharply. "What is it you have not decided?"
+
+"Whether I shall go to Isola Bella."
+
+"Now what the deuce----?"
+
+Uncle Piero was utterly incapable of grasping such a thing as this.
+
+"And why should you not go?"
+
+She answered calmly, and as if stating a perfectly obvious fact:
+
+"I am afraid I shall not be able to leave Maria."
+
+"Oh, come now!" Uncle Piero exclaimed. "Sit down over there," and he
+pointed to a bench in the chimney-corner opposite him. Then he said, in
+that serious, honest voice of his, which seemed to come from his heart:
+
+"My dear Luisa, you have lost your bearings!"
+
+And raising his arms, he uttered a long "Ah!" and then let them fall
+upon his knees once more.
+
+"Lost your bearings completely!" he repeated. He sat silent for a time,
+his head bent, while behind his pursed lips there was the rumbling of
+words in course of formation, which presently burst forth.
+
+"I would never have believed it! It does not seem possible! But when,"
+and here he raised his head and looked Luisa straight in the face, "but
+when we once begin to lose our bearings it is all up with us. And you,
+my dear, began to lose yours a long time ago."
+
+Luisa shuddered.
+
+"Yes indeed!" Uncle Piero cried in a loud voice. "You began losing yours
+a long time ago. And now this is what I wish to say to you. Listen. My
+mother lost children, your mother lost children, I have seen many
+mothers lose children, but not one of them acted as you act. What can
+you expect? We are all mortal, and must adapt ourselves to our
+circumstances. Other mothers become resigned, but you do not. And this
+running two, three, and even four times a day to the cemetery! And the
+flowers, and I know not what all besides! Oh, dear me! And all that
+foolishness at Casarico with that other poor imbecile, which you think
+is such a secret, while every one is talking of it, even Cia. Oh, dear
+me!"
+
+"No, uncle," said Luisa, sadly but calmly. "Don't talk of these things.
+You cannot understand them."
+
+"Exactly!" the uncle retorted with all the irony of which he was
+capable. "I cannot understand! But there is something else. You no
+longer go to church. I have never mentioned this to you because I have
+always made it a rule to let people do as they like, but when I see you
+losing your good sense, losing your common-sense even, the least I can
+do is to remind you that this is all you do by turning your back on the
+Almighty. And now this idea of not going to see your husband, under
+similar circumstances! It is past belief. Well, well," he said after a
+short pause, "I will go myself."
+
+"You?" Luisa exclaimed.
+
+"Why not? Yes, I. I had intended to accompany you, but if you will not
+go I must take the journey alone. I will go and tell your husband that
+you have lost your head, and that I hope I may soon be called to join
+poor Maria."
+
+No one had ever heard such bitter words from Uncle Piero's lips. Perhaps
+it was for that reason, perhaps it was the authority of the man, perhaps
+it was Maria's name pronounced in that way, but at any rate Luisa was
+conquered.
+
+"I will go," she said, "but you must stay here."
+
+"Most certainly not!" cried Uncle Piero, greatly pleased. "It is forty
+years since I saw the islands. I must avail myself of this opportunity.
+And who knows but what I may enlist in the cavalry?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"Well?" said Cia, when the uncle had gone to bed. "Does my master really
+intend to go? For the love of Heaven, don't let him, my dear!" And she
+told Luisa that two hours before he had rolled his eyes in a strange
+manner, letting his head sink upon his breast, and when she had called
+to him he had not answered. Presently he had recovered, and had been
+provoked at her anxious questions, protesting that he had not been ill,
+that he had simply felt rather sleepy. Luisa listened to her, standing
+with her candle in her hand, her eyes glassy, and her attention divided
+between the words she was hearing and another very different thought, a
+thought very far removed from Uncle Piero, from the house, from
+Valsolda.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE SUMMONS TO ARMS
+
+
+On the morning of the twenty-fifth of February, the day fixed for their
+journey, Uncle Piero rose at half-past seven, and went to the window. A
+heavy, white fog hung over the lake, hiding the mountains so that they
+appeared only as short black streaks, one on the right, the other on the
+left, between the lake and the fog. "Alas!" the uncle sighed. He had not
+finished dressing when Luisa came in, and using the unpleasant weather
+as a pretext, once more begged him to remain at home, and let her go
+alone. Cia was greatly distressed, and had entreated her to urge him not
+to go, for she knew he had had an attack of giddiness on the twentieth,
+and that on the twenty-second he had gone to confession without
+mentioning it to any one. Seeing that he was growing impatient, Luisa
+decided it would be wiser to desist, and let him have his own way. Poor
+Uncle Piero, he had always enjoyed the best of health, and now he was
+extremely apprehensive, and the slightest disturbance alarmed him. But
+he did not feel that Luisa should be allowed to set out alone in her
+present state of mind, and so he was going to sacrifice himself for
+her. He finished dressing and returning to the window called out
+triumphantly to Luisa, who was in the little garden below.
+
+"Look up!" said he. "Look up at the Boglia!"
+
+High up above Oria through the smoking fog, the pale gold of the sun
+shining on the mountain could be seen, and still higher up all was clear
+and transparent.
+
+"Fair weather!"
+
+Luisa did not reply, and the old man came down to the loggia in a
+cheerful frame of mind, and went out to the terrace to enjoy the
+magnificent struggle between fog and sun.
+
+The stretch of water towards the east between the Ca Rotta, the last
+house of S. Mamette on the left, and the gulf of the Doi on the right,
+was one immense white sea. The Ca Rotta could just be distinguished,
+coming out of the fog like some spectre. At the gulf of the Doi, the
+narrow black streak of the mountains began, making a gap between the
+leaden lake and the fog, which, little by little, was assuming a bluish
+hue. Vague lights broke in the sky towards Osteno; at the end of the
+eastern sea a new brightness trembled, streaks and spots, dark with the
+breeze, were forming; the eye of the sun appeared and disappeared among
+the whirling clouds above Osteno, until at last, growing rapidly larger,
+it shone forth triumphant. The fog fled in all directions in sheets and
+puffs, of which many sped past Oria, large and swift, while others cast
+themselves upon the shore; but the largest rolled away into the far
+east, where, behind and above a heavy white curtain, the mountains of
+the lake of Como rose, glorious in the blue.
+
+Uncle Piero called Luisa to witness the spectacle, the last splendid
+scene of the drama, the triumph of the sun, the flight of the mists, the
+glory of the hills. He admired nature in a simple manner, without the
+refinement of the artistic sense, but with youthful ardour, and with the
+ring of sincerity in his voice; his admiration was that of an old man
+who has lived a life of purity, who has not exhausted the freshness of
+his spirit, who still retains a certain simplicity of imagination.
+"Look, Luisa!" he exclaimed, "we must indeed cry out, 'Glory be to the
+Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost!'" Luisa did not answer, but went
+quickly indoors, that she might not see that white enclosure beyond the
+kitchen-garden that was drawing her so strongly, with its tacit cry of
+reproach and grief. She had gone there that morning at six o'clock, and
+had remained an hour, seated on the wet grass.
+
+The uncle remained on the terrace lost in contemplation until the moment
+of departure arrived. Had he been a vain poet he might have imagined
+that Valsolda was offering him this farewell spectacle to speed him on
+his way; that she wished to show herself more beautiful than he had,
+perhaps, ever seen her before. However, these poetic fancies did not
+come to him, and, besides, his journey was to be so short. But the image
+of Maria came to him instead; he saw her running round him, he took her
+upon his knee, and repeated the old rhyme to her:
+
+    Proud shade of the river
+    Of Missipipi----
+
+"Enough!" he sighed. "It was a terrible thing!" and in answer to a
+summons from Cia he went slowly towards the little garden where Luisa
+was awaiting him, ready to go down to the boat. "Here I am," said he.
+"And you, Cia, be careful not to let the house tumble into the lake
+while we are away!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During the journey on Lake Maggiore on board the _San Bernardino_, Luisa
+remained in the second-class cabin most of the time. She went on deck
+once to try and persuade Uncle Piero to go below also, but, although the
+wind was cold, Uncle Piero, wrapped in his heavy grey travelling cloak,
+would not stir from the deck, where he sat calmly watching the hills and
+villages, and chatting with a priest from Locarno, with a little old
+woman from Belgirate, and with other second-class passengers. Luisa was
+obliged to leave him there, while she herself went below again,
+preferring to be alone with her own thoughts. As they approached Isola
+Bella a sense of inward excitement and a vague foreboding of many
+things took possession of her. How would the meeting with Franco take
+place? How would he treat her? Would he repeat Uncle Piero's sermon to
+her? His letters were indeed always compassionate and tender, but who
+does not know that we write in one way and speak in another? How and
+where would they spend the evening? And then that other question, that
+question it so terrified her to think about----? All these anxious
+thoughts were rising higher and higher, threatening to become dominant,
+to place themselves in bold opposition to that image of the cemetery of
+Oria, which from time to time would return with impetuous violence, as
+if to snatch back its own. At the station of Cannero, Luisa heard the
+noise of many steps and of loud talking above her head, and went
+upstairs to look after her uncle. A party of soldiers, recalled to
+service, had come out to the steamer in two large barges. Other small
+boats bore women, children, and old men, who were crying and waving
+good-bye. The soldiers, most of whom were _Bersaglieri_, fine jolly
+young fellows, answered the greeting with shouts of "Hurrah for Italy!"
+and made promises of presents from Milan. One old woman, all
+dishevelled, but tearless, had three sons among those soldiers, and was
+calling out to them to remember our Lord and the Madonna. "Yes, yes,"
+grumbled an old sergeant who was escorting them, "Remember our Lord, and
+the Madonna, and the Bishop, and don't forget the _prevosto_, the
+parish priest!" The soldiers, who were well acquainted with the
+_prevosto_, or military prison, laughed loudly at the joke, as the
+steamer started forward. There were cries, and waving of handkerchiefs,
+and then the men burst into song, a song shouted by fifty strong voices.
+
+    Addio, mia bella, addio,
+    L'armata se ne va.
+
+The soldiers were all clustered together at the prow, among piles of
+bags and barrels, some sitting, some lying down, others standing, and
+all singing at the top of their voices to the dull accompaniment of the
+paddles as the steamer glided straight towards that background of sky,
+against which rose the pointed hills of Ispra, dividing the immense
+expanse of water from the Ticino beyond. The young men would soon be
+crossing the Ticino, probably to the cry of "Savoy for ever!" and amidst
+the fury of cannonading. Death was awaiting many of them down there
+under that clear sky, but all sang gaily, and only the dull noise of the
+paddles seemed to be aware of their fate. The free hills of Piedmont,
+past which the boat was gliding, although they stood in the shadow,
+seemed to shine with pride and satisfaction at having given their sons
+to the captive hills of Lombardy, which wore an air of tragedy, although
+illumined by the sun. Luisa felt her blood begin to tingle, felt her
+once ardent patriotism begin to stir. And those mothers who had seen
+their sons depart thus? She foresaw whither her thoughts were tending,
+and hastened to assure herself that she also would gladly have given a
+son to Italy, that the grief of those mothers could not in any way be
+compared to hers. But what a difference there was between reading a
+letter in Valsolda, telling of the war, and feeling the very breath,
+hearing the very noise of war all about her, feeling it in the air
+itself! In the quiet of Valsolda, war was a shadow without substance;
+here the shadow became incarnate. Here Luisa's personal grief, that
+immense grief which filled the lifeless air surrounding her in Oria,
+seemed to shrink before the emotion of many, and her consciousness of
+this gave her an indefinable sense of discomfort and trouble. Was it the
+dread of losing a part of her own grief, a part, as it were, of herself?
+Was it the desire to escape from a comparison from which she shrank? At
+the same time the idea that Franco was going to this war, the idea that
+had affected her so slightly in Valsolda, was now assuming a new aspect
+of reality in her mind, was making her heart quiver, and it also was
+wrestling with the image of the cemetery of Oria. For the first time
+this image of the past was no longer the one, all-powerful master of her
+soul, and although her soul was indignant and regretful, new images,
+images of the present and of the future, were assailing it.
+
+Uncle Piero began to feel cold and came down to the cabin.
+
+"In little more than an hour we shall be at Isola Bella," said he.
+
+"Are you tired?"
+
+"Not in the least. I feel wonderfully well."
+
+"But nevertheless, you will go to bed early to-night?"
+
+The uncle, whose thoughts were wandering, did not answer, but presently
+he exclaimed: "Do you know what I was thinking? I was thinking that now
+there ought to be another Maria."
+
+Luisa, who was sitting beside him, sprang up shuddering, and went to the
+little window opposite, standing with her back to Uncle Piero, who did
+not understand in the least, and, concluding she was embarrassed, went
+to sleep in his corner. The steamer touched at Intra. Now there was only
+Pallanza before Isola. They were skirting the coast; through the little
+oval window Luisa could see the banks, the houses, the trees slipping
+by. How fast the boat was gliding, how fast!
+
+Pallanza. The steamer stopped five minutes.
+
+Luisa went on deck and inquired when they would reach Isola Bella. They
+would not stop either at Suna or Baveno, so it was a question of only a
+few minutes now. And when would the steamer from Arona arrive? The
+steamer from Arona appeared to be late. She went below once more to
+awaken Uncle Piero, who presently came on deck with her. The last part
+of the journey was accomplished in silence. The uncle watched Pallanza,
+which they were leaving behind, while Luisa had fixed her gaze on Isola
+Bella, which they were rapidly approaching, and she saw nothing else.
+
+The boat reached the landing-stage at Isola Bella at forty minutes past
+three. There was no sign of the steamer from Arona. A porter told Luisa
+that it was always late now because the train from Novara was never on
+time, owing to the movement of troops. No one else went ashore at Isola,
+no one was on the beach save the attendant at the landing-stage. When
+the boat had left, he himself conducted the two travellers to the
+_Albergo del Delfino_. He said it was a mere chance their finding the
+hotel open at this season. A large family were spending the winter
+there. They were English people. Indeed, it seemed the Island of
+Silence. The lake lay about it, motionless and silent, the shore was
+deserted, no living being was to be seen in the porches of the poor
+little houses clustered together about the bay, between one of the round
+bastions of the gardens and the hotel. The English people had gone out
+in a boat; the hotel was as silent as the shore and the water. The new
+arrivals were given two large rooms on the second floor, both of which
+faced south, and overlooked the melancholy strait between the island and
+the wooded strip of coast that runs from Stressa to Baveno. The first
+room was on the western corner of the house, and its window looked out
+on the little church of S. Vittore, which rises beside the hotel, and
+upon the small Isola dei Pescatori in the distance. Uncle Piero planted
+himself at the window contemplating the little island, the little pile
+of houses rising out of the mirror of the lake and culminating in a
+campanile; the great mountains of Val di Toce and Val di Gravellone,
+half hidden in a thin mist through which the sun was shining. Luisa,
+seeing that the room contained two beds, hastened to the other room,
+where an alcove also held two beds. "There," said Uncle Piero, coming
+in, a moment later, "this will do nicely for you two." Luisa asked the
+proprietor, in an undertone, if they could not have three rooms instead
+of two. No, it was impossible. "But this is all right," Uncle Piero
+repeated. "This is a perfect arrangement. You take this room, and I will
+have the other." Luisa was silent, and the proprietor withdrew. "Don't
+you see you have an alcove, just as at home?" It never struck the simple
+old man that the very sight of that alcove was a torment to Luisa. She
+told him she preferred the other room, which was lighter and more
+cheerful. "Amen!" said the uncle. "Do as you like. I am quite willing to
+be alcoved."
+
+This corner of the hotel soon lapsed into silence once more. Luisa
+posted herself at the window. The boat from Arona must be very near now;
+the man who had accompanied them to the hotel was walking slowly towards
+the landing-stage, and in a few minutes she heard the noise of the
+paddles in the distance. Uncle Piero told Luisa he was tired, and
+remained in his room.
+
+She went down towards the landing-stage and stopped behind a small house
+that hid the boat from view, but she could hear it distinctly. Suddenly
+the prow of the _San Gottardo_ glided slowly in front of her and
+stopped. Luisa recognised her husband in the midst of a noisy group.
+Franco saw her, and springing ashore, ran towards her, while she came
+forward a few steps to meet him. They embraced, he speechless and blind
+with emotion, laughing and crying, full of gratitude, but uncertain as
+to her state of mind, as to how he should regulate his conduct; she more
+composed, extremely pale, and serious. "God bless you! God bless you!"
+he kept repeating, as they turned towards the hotel. Then Franco
+overwhelmed her with questions, first about her journey and the passing
+of the frontier, and then about Uncle Piero. When he mentioned the
+uncle, Luisa raised her head and said: "Look!" The old man was at the
+window waving his handkerchief and calling out his welcome in a ringing
+voice. "Oh!" cried Franco in amazement, and he ran forward.
+
+Uncle Piero was waiting for him on the landing, his face wearing an
+expression of satisfaction that seemed to spread all over his peaceful
+breast. "How are you, my boy?" said he, taking both his hands and
+shaking them heartily, but, nevertheless, holding him at a distance. He
+did not want kisses, feeling that at such a moment they would mean
+thanks; but he could not hold out against Franco's impetuosity. "Did you
+fancy a lady of the house of Maironi could travel without a courier?"
+said he, when he had extricated himself from the young man's arms.
+"Moreover, I came to enlist in the _Bersaglieri_!" And the man who had
+said he was tired started downstairs, saying he was going to order
+dinner.
+
+There was no sofa in their room. Franco drew Luisa to a seat on the bed,
+and sat down beside her, encircling her shoulders with his arm. He could
+not talk to her, could only keep on repeating: "I thank you! I thank
+you!" as he lavished eager caresses, eager kisses, and tender names upon
+her. Luisa did not respond in any way, but trembled violently with bowed
+head. Presently he checked himself, and, taking her head in his hands
+like some sacred thing, fell to touching with his lips the white hairs
+he saw here and there. She knew he was searching out the white hairs,
+understood those timid kisses, and was moved. She felt her heart of ice
+melting, and, seized with terror, struggled to defend herself more
+against her own emotions than against Franco. "You don't know," she
+said, "how cold my heart is. I did not even want to come, did not want
+to leave Maria or give you the pain of finding me in this state. But I
+came on Uncle Piero's account. He was determined to set out alone, and
+that I could not allow."
+
+When she had pronounced these cruel words she felt Franco's lips
+withdrawn from her hair, felt his arm forsake her shoulders. Both were
+silent for a time, then Franco murmured with great gentleness:
+
+"Only thirteen hours more. Then perhaps I shall never trouble you
+again." At that moment Uncle Piero entered and announced that dinner was
+ready. Luisa took her husband's hand and pressed it in silence; it was
+not a lover-like pressure, but it told him she shared his emotion.
+
+At dinner neither Franco nor Luisa could eat. But the uncle had a good
+appetite, and talked a great deal. He did not approve of Franco's
+enlisting. "What sort of a soldier do you expect to become?" said he.
+"What will you do without your camphor, your sedative water, and all the
+rest?"
+
+Franco replied that he had cast aside all remedies, that he felt as if
+he were of steel, and that he should become the most robust soldier of
+the whole ninth regiment. "Maybe," the uncle grumbled, "maybe. And you,
+Luisa, what do you say about it?" Luisa believed it would be as her
+husband had said. "Then that is enough!" the uncle cried. "And so,
+hurrah!" He had a great opinion of the strength of Austria, and did not
+view matters in the same rosy light as did Franco. According to Franco
+there was not the slightest doubt that the Italians would be victorious.
+He had seen one of Niel's adjutants, who had come to Turin on a secret
+mission, and had heard him say to some staff officers: "_Nous allons
+supprimer l'Autriche!_" Of course they fully expected to leave at least
+fifty thousand Italians and Frenchmen between the Ticino and the Isonzo.
+
+"Excuse me, Signori," said the waiter who was serving them, "but did the
+gentlemen speak of enlisting in the ninth regiment?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The Queen's Brigade! A splendid brigade! I served in the tenth. We
+covered ourselves with glory in 1848, as you may remember. Goito, Santo
+Lucia, Governolo, and Volta. Now it will be your turn."
+
+"We will do our best."
+
+Luisa shuddered slightly. The English people, who were dining at a table
+near them, heard this dialogue and looked at Franco. For some minutes no
+one in the room spoke; there passed before them the vision of a column
+of infantry charging with fixed bayonets, amidst a shower of grapeshot.
+
+After dinner the uncle remained at the hotel for his usual nap, and
+Franco went out with Luisa. They turned to the right towards the Palace.
+It was rather dark and a few infrequent drops of rain were falling. The
+steps leading from the shore to the courtyard of the villa were
+slippery, and Franco offered his arm to his wife, who took it in
+silence. They stopped between the deserted courtyard and the stairs that
+lead to the landing-stage, to count the hours which the clock on the
+Palace was ringing out. Six o'clock. Two hours had passed, and there now
+remained only eleven before the separation, before the unknown! They
+walked on slowly and silently, following the straight path between the
+lake and the side of the Palace, as far as the corner which commands a
+view of the Isola dei Pescatori, where some lights were already visible.
+Two women came towards them, chattering, and walking arm in arm. Franco
+allowed them to pass, and then asked his wife if she remembered the
+Ranco.
+
+Two years before their marriage they had made an excursion with a party
+of friends to Drano and the Ranco, high pasture-lands of the Valsolda,
+on the way to the Passo Stretto. They had had a lively dispute, and had
+sulked and suffered for an hour. "Yes," Luisa replied, "I remember." At
+the same moment both realised how different was the present hour, and
+how painful it was to have to admit the difference. They did not speak
+again until they reached the corner. Bells rang out on the Isola dei
+Pescatori. Franco dropped his wife's arm, and leaned upon the parapet.
+The misty lake was silent; nothing was to be seen save the lights on the
+other island. The lake, the mist, those lights, those bells, which might
+have belonged to a ship lost at sea, the silence of all things, even the
+infrequent, tiny rain-drops, everything was so sad!
+
+"And do you remember afterwards?" Franco murmured, without turning his
+head. Luisa was also leaning against the parapet. She was silent for a
+moment, and then answered in an undertone:
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+And in her "dear," there was a slight and hidden beginning of warmth, of
+affectionate emotion. Franco felt it, and thrilled with joy, but
+controlled himself.
+
+"I am thinking," he went on, "of the letter I wrote you as soon as I got
+home, and of the three words you said to me next day, at Muzzaglio, when
+the others were dancing under the chestnut-trees, and you passed close
+to me on your way to get your shawl, which you had left on the grass. Do
+you remember?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+He took her hand and raised it to his lips.
+
+"And do you also remember that I slipped before we reached the bridge,
+and that you said: 'My dear sir, it is your place to support me!'"
+
+Luisa did not answer, but pressed his hands.
+
+"I have been good for nothing," he added sadly. "I have not known how to
+support you."
+
+"You have done all you could."
+
+Luisa's voice, as she spoke these words, was indeed faint, but very
+different from when she had said: "My heart is so cold."
+
+Once more her husband drew her arm through his, and they returned to the
+landing-stage. The dear arm was less passive than before, and betrayed
+agitation and a struggle. Franco stopped, and said softly:
+
+"And if I am called to join Maria? What shall I say to her from you?"
+
+She began to tremble, and resting her head on his shoulder, whispered:
+"No, stay here!" Franco did not hear the words, and repeated: "What?"
+There was no answer, and very slowly he bent his head towards her, saw
+her lips seeking his, and pressed his own upon them. His heart was
+beating fast, faster than when he had kissed Luisa for the first time as
+her lover. He raised his head, but could not speak. At last he succeeded
+in saying these words: "I will tell her you have promised----" "No,"
+murmured Luisa, in great distress. "I cannot do that. You must not ask
+it of me! It is no longer possible!"
+
+"What is not possible?"
+
+"Oh, you understand quite well! I also understood what you meant!"
+
+She started forward as if to flee from the subject, but still clinging
+to Franco's arm, and he held her back.
+
+"Luisa," said he gravely, almost severely, "will you let me go away like
+this? Do you realise what it means to me to go away like this?"
+
+Then she slowly withdrew her arm from his, and turned towards the
+parapet on the right, leaning upon it, and gazing into the water as she
+had done that night at Oria. Franco stood quietly beside her; waited a
+few moments, and then begged her to answer his question.
+
+"It would be better for me to end it all in the lake," she said
+bitterly. Her husband passed his arm round her waist, pulled her away
+from the parapet, and then letting her go, threw up his arm with a
+gesture of protest. "You!" said he indignantly. "You talk thus? You who
+used to prate of looking upon life as a battle? And is this the way you
+fight? Once I believed you were the stronger of us two. Now I know it is
+I who am the stronger. Much the stronger! Can you not even imagine what
+I have suffered during all these years? Can you not----" For a moment
+his voice failed him, but he quickly controlled himself and went on.
+"Can you not even understand what you are to me, and what I would give
+to be able to spare you the slightest pain? While you, it would seem, do
+not care how cruelly you rend my soul!" She flung herself into his arms.
+In the silence that ensued, broken only by her spasmodic and suppressed
+sobbing, Franco heard steps approaching, and with difficulty freed
+himself from her embrace and induced her to turn with him towards the
+hotel. "You naughty girl!" he whispered. "And it is you who don't want
+me to be glad to die, when I can die so gloriously for my country!"
+Luisa pressed his arm without speaking. They met two young lovers, who
+looked curiously at them in passing. The girl smiled. When they reached
+the short flight of steps that leads down to the little square in front
+of S. Vittore, they heard voices of women and girls. Luisa paused a
+moment on the first step, and said softly the three words she had spoken
+at Muzzaglio.
+
+"I love you!"
+
+Franco did not answer, but pressed her arm. Very slowly they went down
+the stairs, and entered the Albergo del Delfino.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Some young men who were drinking, smoking, and laughing, rose as Franco
+and Luisa entered, and came towards them. "Signora," said the first to
+present himself to Luisa, "your husband has probably announced to you
+the visit of the Seven Wise Men." A great hubbub immediately ensued,
+because Franco had forgotten to tell Luisa that his friends had
+accompanied him from Turin, but, not wishing to intrude, had gone on to
+Pallanza promising to come and pay their respects to the Signora in the
+evening. They had come over from Pallanza in a row-boat, and had
+intended returning immediately, but Franco ordered a couple of bottles
+of wine and, soon, in spite of Luisa's presence, their hilarity became
+such that the proprietor begged them, for love of his English family, to
+make less noise.
+
+After arranging with Franco to meet him in the morning on board the
+first steamer, the Wise Men took themselves off. Franco accompanied
+them to the boat and Luisa went to look after Uncle Piero. He had left
+word for them with the proprietor that, feeling very sleepy, he had gone
+to bed. In fact Luisa could hear him snoring noisily. She put the candle
+down, and waited for Franco.
+
+He came up almost immediately, and was surprised to hear that the uncle
+was already asleep. He had wished to say good-bye to him before going to
+bed, as his boat was leaving so early in the morning--at half-past five.
+The door between the two rooms was closed, but nevertheless Luisa begged
+her husband to step and speak softly. She told him what Cia had confided
+to her. The uncle needed rest. She hoped he would remain in bed until
+nine or ten o'clock, and she intended to start at one, and spend the
+night at Magadino, in order not to tire him too much. She laid great
+stress upon her apprehensions concerning Uncle Piero's health, and
+talked incessantly, nervously, anxious to avoid other topics, seeking
+thus to escape too tender caresses. At the same time she was continually
+moving about the room, repeatedly taking up and putting down the same
+objects, and this partly from nervousness, partly with the intention
+that her husband should go to bed before her. He, for his part, was
+intent upon a side-bag, which he was finding difficulty in opening. At
+last he succeeded, and, calling his wife to him, gave her a roll
+containing fifty twenty-franc pieces. "I know," said he, "that I shall
+not be able to send you anything for some months. This money is not
+mine, I have borrowed it." Then he drew a sealed letter from his pocket.
+"And this," he added, "is my will. I have little to leave, but of course
+I must dispose of that little. I have made only one legacy. My father's
+scarf-pin, which you have, is to go to Uncle Piero. I have also set down
+the name of the person who loaned me the thousand francs. Besides the
+will the letter contains a few words for you alone. That is all." He
+spoke with grave sweetness, and without agitation. Her hands trembled as
+she took the letter. "Thank you," she said, and began to unbraid her
+hair, but she immediately twisted it up again, hardly conscious of what
+she was doing, in her struggle with the phantom of the dead child, and
+with another vision of war and death. She said brokenly that, as she
+must be up so early to accompany Franco to the boat, she thought she
+would lie down with her clothes on, and not loosen her hair. Franco made
+no comment, but having said a short prayer, began to undress. From his
+neck he unclasped a little chain from which hung a small gold cross.
+This had belonged to his mother. "I wish you to keep this," said he,
+offering it to Luisa. "It will be safer. It might, perhaps, fall into
+the hands of the Croatians." She was horrified, she shuddered, hesitated
+a moment, then threw her arms about his neck, and pressed him to her in
+a passionate embrace.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The waiter knocked at their door at about half-past four. At five Franco
+took the candle and went into Uncle Piero's room. He was already awake.
+Franco said good-bye to him, and then proposed to Luisa that they also
+take leave of each other in the privacy of their own room. In her face
+and voice there was an expression of grave and painful stupor. She
+displayed no agitation, and did not weep, but embraced and kissed her
+husband as one in a dream, and, still in a dazed state, followed him
+downstairs. Did a flash from the thought that was filling her soul pass
+into his? If so, it happened in the little hotel parlour, while he was
+taking his coffee, his wife seated opposite him. He seemed suddenly to
+discover something in that glance, in that expression, for he paused to
+study her, cup in hand, while ineffable tenderness, anxiety and emotion
+overspread his face. She evidently had no wish to speak, but he longed
+to do so. A hidden word quivered in all the muscles of his face, and
+shone in his eyes, but his mouth did not venture to utter it.
+
+Hand in hand they went down to the landing-stage, and leaned against the
+wall where Luisa had leaned the day before. When they heard the noise of
+the paddles, they embraced for the last time and said good-bye without
+tears, troubled rather by the hidden thought harboured by both than
+afflicted by the separation. The steamer came in noisily, the ropes were
+flung ashore and made fast. A bell rang. One kiss more! "God bless you!"
+said Franco, and hurried on board.
+
+She lingered as long as she could hear the noise of the paddles, as the
+steamer glided towards Stressa. Then she returned to the hotel, sank
+upon the bed, and sat there as one turned to stone, engrossed in the
+idea, in the instinctive certainty, that maternity awaited her a second
+time.
+
+Although this was precisely what she had so greatly feared it cannot be
+said that now she was grieved. All other sentiments were subdued by the
+wonder of listening to a strong, inward voice, that was so clear and
+still so inexplicable. She was dazed. Since Maria's death she had firmly
+believed that the Book of Destiny could contain nothing new for her,
+that certain secret fibres of her heart were dead. And now a mysterious
+voice was speaking within that heart, saying: Know that one page in the
+book of your destiny is finished, and the leaf has been turned. For you
+there is still a future of intense living. The drama that you believed
+had come to an end at the second act, is to continue, and if I Myself
+announce it to you, it must indeed prove wonderful!
+
+For three hours, until Uncle Piero called her, she sat there, absorbed
+in this voice.
+
+The uncle rose at half-past nine; he was feeling very well. The weather
+was still damp, almost rainy, but he would not hear of remaining in the
+house until it was time to start for Magadino, as Luisa wished him to
+do. He knew, for he had inquired of the proprietor, that the gardens
+could be visited after nine o'clock, so at ten he drank his milk and
+then started out to visit them with Luisa. When they passed S. Vittore
+he wished to go in and see the paintings. Mass was being sung, and at
+that moment the officiating priest turned towards them and said
+_Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus_. Uncle Piero crossed himself devoutly,
+and lingered to hear the last gospel. He did not attempt to examine the
+paintings, for there was little light in the church, but said with his
+accustomed cheerfulness: "Now that I have received that blessing I feel
+quite happy!"
+
+It was not possible to hurry in his company. He stopped at every step,
+examining everything that seemed artistic, everything that was in a
+position to be examined. He studied the front of the church, the triple
+stairway of the landing-stage of Villa Borromeo, all three sides of the
+courtyard, and the great palm in the centre, which he was much
+scandalised to learn Luisa had not even noticed when she had passed it
+the night before with Franco. When the custodian ushered them into the
+palace, it took the uncle at least ten minutes to climb and admire the
+great stairway. As they reached the top a ray of sun glinted forth, and
+the custodian proposed that they should take advantage of this and visit
+the gardens. He turned to the left and led the visitors through a suite
+of empty rooms to the iron gate, where he rang the bell. A gardener
+appeared, a civil lad, to whom Uncle Piero took a great fancy, for he
+explained everything willingly, and the uncle's questions were not few.
+The camphor-tree near the entrance cost him five minutes. Luisa was
+distressed, for she feared the uncle would tire himself too much, and
+she herself was weary of looking at so many trees, of hearing so many
+names, both Latin and Italian, and of having to watch the uncle, while
+her thoughts called for silence and solitude. The gardener proposed
+going up to the Castello di Nettuno. Uncle Piero would have liked to
+inspect more closely the unicorn of the Borromei, which stood rampant up
+there, but there were many stairs to climb, the air was heavy, and he
+hesitated. Luisa took advantage of that moment of hesitation to ask the
+gardener where she might find a seat. "Just below here," said he. "On
+the left, where the _Strobus_ are." Uncle Piero finally consented to go
+down and visit the clump of _Strobus_.
+
+He was tired, but he continued to look at everything, to ask questions
+about everything. As they walked towards the _Strobus_ they heard in the
+distance, over towards Isola Madre, the rolling of the drums of the
+National Guard of Pallanza, which was drilling on the shore. "Now it is
+all play," said the young man. "Not exactly play, but.... Next month we
+shall go to work in earnest. We have a lesson to give to a huge beast.
+There it is, over there, the monster!" The monster was the Austrian war
+steamer _Radetzky_, called by the inhabitants of the Piedmontese shore,
+_el Radescon_. "The ship is just entering the bay of Laveno," said the
+young fellow, "coming from Luino. Come this way if you wish to see her
+plainly."
+
+Uncle Piero knew his eyes were not strong enough to see the steamer, so
+he sat down on the first bench he found under the _Strobus_, which stood
+just in front of a group of bamboos, and was flanked by two groups of
+large azaleas. Behind the bamboos, between the great twisted trunks of
+the _Strobus_, he could see the mirror of white water trembling as far
+as the black line of the hills of Ispra. The sky, dark towards the
+north, was clear in that quarter. Luisa and the gardener went to the
+gate which bears the coat of arms, and which faces the green Isola
+Madre, Pallanza, and the upper lake. Luisa looked out over the immense
+expanse of leaden water, crowned by misty giants from the Sasso di Ferro
+group above Laveno to the mountains of Maccagno, and to the distant
+snows of the Splugen. The smoke of the _Radetzky_ was more plainly
+visible than its body, and the drums of Pallanza were still rolling.
+Uncle Piero called the gardener and Luisa went to lean against the
+parapet beside the gate, and near the yew-tree that rises from the
+terrace below. The tree shut out the view on the east. She was glad to
+be alone at last, to rest her eyes and her thoughts on the grey of the
+great mountains and of the great waters. Presently the gardener came
+back to point out to her the yellow acacias and the white heather that
+were blossoming on the lower terrace. "The _bruyeres blanches_ bring
+luck," said he. Seeing that Luisa was lost in thought, and did not heed
+him, he started towards the hot-house containing the begonias. "An old
+_Strobus_," said he, speaking in a loud voice that the visitors might
+hear him, but without looking around, "An old _Strobus_ that has been
+struck by lightning. If you wish to visit the private gardens----"
+
+Luisa turned from the parapet and went to fetch the uncle, and give him
+her arm if necessary. The gardener, who was waiting at the entrance of
+the little grove of laurels, saw her start towards the old gentleman,
+who was still sitting on the bench, saw her quicken her pace and then
+rush to his side with a cry.
+
+Like the innocent and aged tree Uncle Piero also had been struck down.
+His body was resting against the back of the bench, his head had fallen
+forward, and his chin touched his breast. His eyes were open, fixed and
+expressionless. It had indeed been a farewell spectacle his beloved
+Valsolda had offered him the day before. Uncle Piero, the dear,
+venerable, old man, wise, upright, and fatherly, the benefactor of his
+own people, Uncle Piero was gone, gone forever. He had come to enlist,
+but God had called him to a higher service; the bugle had sounded, and
+he had answered the call. The drums of Pallanza still rolled, rolled for
+the end of the old world, and rolled for the advent of the new. In
+Luisa's womb there lay a vital germ which was preparing to fight the
+battles of a new era, preparing to taste other joys, other griefs than
+those which the man of the old world was leaving thus peacefully,
+blessed unconsciously, at the last moment, by that strange priest of
+Isola Bella, who had, perhaps, never uttered the holy words to one more
+worthy.
+
+
+
+
+         _A Selection from the
+             Catalogue of_
+
+          G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+       Complete Catalogues sent
+            on application
+
+
+
+
+"Signor Fogazzaro is at the present moment undoubtedly the greatest of
+Italian novelists. His nobility of feeling, his wide sympathy, his
+kindliness and breezy humor entitle him to a high place among writers of
+fiction."--
+
+                        From Villari's "Italian Life."
+
+
+          The Trilogy of Rome
+
+                  BY
+
+           ANTONIO FOGAZZARO
+
+
+             The Patriot
+
+    PICCOLO MONDO ANTICO _Crown 8vo. $1.50_
+
+A picture of "the little ancient world" of Vasolda in the troubled
+period of 1848-49, when the "spirit of patriotism mourned its fiercest."
+The book is a wonderful portrayal of the social life of the period.
+
+
+              The Sinner
+
+    PICCOLO MONDO MODERNO _Crown 8vo. $1.50_
+
+An impassioned love story involving faithful pictures of the life of the
+Italian world of fashion and introducing the character that becomes the
+central figure of _The Saint_.
+
+
+               The Saint
+
+     IL SANTO _Crown 8vo. $1.50_
+
+"An exceptional, remarkable, profoundly interesting work. It is eloquent
+with intense earnestness, with a deep-rooted sense of a duty to perform,
+a fervent message to deliver. You lay it aside with an abiding sense of
+having read something eminently worth while, something very genuine and
+sincere."--_The Bookman._
+
+
+         "_A Remarkable Book_"
+
+            SAN CELESTINO
+
+           BY JOHN AYSCOUGH
+
+    Author of "MAROTZ," "DROMINA," etc.
+
+In form, it is almost exactly like a novel with frequent conversations,
+and going, in minor matters at least, far beyond the record of history.
+The narrative opens with Petruccio as a child in the home of his
+parents, who belong to the minor nobility of the Abruzzi. It follows his
+career at Salerno, where he attended the University as a lonely figure
+making few friends. Afterwards he became a hermit and the story tells
+how disciples gathered round him, beginning with two worldly young men
+who had known him at Salerno. The Order of the Celestines thus founded
+grew in numbers and importance through fifty quiet years, when the cal
+swiftly and dramatically--the poor simple old man dragged weeping from
+his hermit's cave and borne to the triumph from which he shrank in
+horror,--the miserable weeks in Rome, touching examples of his
+simplicity and guilelessness. Then the peace which came with the
+renunciation, and his last days passed quite happily as a captive in a
+prison cell.
+
+         _Crown 8vo. $1.50_
+
+
+"One of the most striking novels of the year."--_British Weekly._
+
+                MAROTZ
+
+            By John Ayscough
+
+A story of the present day, containing vivid word pictures of Southern
+Italian and Sicilian life, written by a distinguished Catholic. The
+passionate peoples of the South, tempered by the sweet influences of
+religion, despite science and modernity, are depicted with great
+fidelity. It is safe to say that no truer account of Convent life has
+ever been printed.
+
+  "A literary masterpiece."--_The Observer._
+
+        _Crown octavo. $1.50_
+
+
+_Alluring Novels for Summer Reading_
+
+    HENRY OF NAVARRE      By May Wynne
+    A Romance of August, 1572
+
+  _Frontispiece_ by H. M. Brock.
+
+_Listed as one of the six best selling novels in England._
+
+"Vividly and vigorously recounted, the dialogue is brisk and ingenious,
+the plot well contrived, and action swift and skilfully managed."--_N.
+Y. Sun._ Crown 8vo. $1.50
+
+
+    JUDITH of the CUMBERLANDS      By Alice MacGowan
+
+     Author of "The Last Word," "Return," "Huldah," etc. _With Six
+     Full-Page Illustrations in Color_ by George Wright.
+
+"A book that combines historical value with so good a story is a book to
+be praised."--_N. Y. Times._
+
+  "An admirable tale."--_The Outlook._ Crown 8vo. $1.50
+
+
+    PRINCESS NADINE      By Christian Reid
+
+     Author of "The Chase of an Heiress," "The Man of the Family,"
+     etc. _With Frontispiece in Colors_ by John Edwin Jackson.
+
+"A dramatic and splendid piece of fiction, the love element is
+delicately treated, while it sparkles with wit and is captivating in
+style."--_Buffalo Courier._ Crown 8vo. $1.50
+
+
+    FRATERNITY      By John Galsworthy
+
+"It has warmth and color, and that spiritual exaltation of insight into
+the heart of humanity which is one of the attributes of genius. In
+conception and in execution _Fraternity_ must be justly termed _a great
+novel_."--_N. Y. Times._ Crown 8vo. Fixed price, $1.35 net (by mail,
+$1.50)
+
+
+    PLAYS      By John Galsworthy
+    THE SILVER BOX--JOY--STRIFE
+
+"By the power of his conceptions John Galsworthy must be recognized as a
+distinctive and important figure among the younger English novelists.
+Still in his thirties, he is nevertheless a master."--_Chicago Evening
+Post._
+
+    Crown 8vo. Fixed price, $1.35 net
+
+
+    DROMINA      By John Ayscough
+
+"Spacious in scope, splendid in vigor and coloring, and rich in human
+feeling and sentiment ... the whole romance thrills and glows with a
+real and splendid effect of life, and I commend it heartily."--_Dundee
+Advertiser._
+
+    Crown 8vo. $1.50
+
+
+    MAROTZ      By John Ayscough
+
+    "One of the most striking novels of the year."--_British
+    Weekly._        Crown 8vo. $1.50
+
+
+                 The
+            Trilogy of Rome
+
+                  By
+           ANTONIO FOGAZZARO
+    "_The Greatest of Italian Novelists_"
+
+       (Authorized American Editions)
+
+           1. The Patriot
+                 (Piccolo Mondo Antico)
+
+           2. The Sinner
+                 (Piccolo Mondo Moderno)
+
+           3. The Saint
+                 (Il Santo)
+
+    The first of these romances is an impassioned
+    story of lovers struggling to break the barriers
+    of aristocratic prejudice that oppose their marriage.
+    It is also a story of patriotism--of the freeing of
+    Italy from the Austrian yoke.
+
+    In _The Sinner_, the second book of this Trilogy,
+    we read the dramatic story of Piero Maironi, the
+    son of the hero of _The Patriot_, and of his love for
+    the beautiful Jeanne Dessalle,--a story that presents
+    a vivid picture of the Italian world of rank
+    and fashion, and involves, too, a study of political
+    and ecclesiastical life.
+
+    In _The Saint_, the concluding novel in the series,
+    the hero of _The Sinner_ and the lover of Jeanne
+    Dessalle appears as a penitent full of religious
+    zeal that finds a double outlet--in asceticism
+    and works of mercy and in an attempt to reform
+    the Church of Rome from within.
+
+
+         G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
+
+       New York          London
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's note:
+
+   The table of contents corresponds to a different edition.
+
+   The footnotes have been moved to the end of the respective chapters.
+
+   Obvious punctuation errors have been corrected.
+
+   Archaic and inconsistent hyphenation was retained as printed.
+
+   Page 3 "once" replaces "one" (the voice groaned one more)
+
+   Page 40 "plena" replaces "piena" (Ave Maria, gratia piena)
+
+   Page 444 removed repeated word "the the" (Meanwhile Pedraglio
+   explored the the kitchen...)
+
+   Page 445 "he" replaces "be" (Then be began rapidly collecting ...)
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATRIOT***
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