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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4440.txt b/4440.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..789d04f --- /dev/null +++ b/4440.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2717 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Vittoria by George Meredith, v6 +#46 in our series by George Meredith + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before distributing this or any other +Project Gutenberg file. + +We encourage you to keep this file, exactly as it is, on your +own disk, thereby keeping an electronic path open for future +readers. Please do not remove this. + +This header should be the first thing seen when anyone starts to +view the etext. 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Lena punished +on the spot, and punished herself most. She broke off her engagement +with Wilfrid, while at the same time she caused a secret message to be +conveyed to him, telling him that the prolongation of his residence in +Meran would restore him to his position in the army. + +Wilfrid remained at Meran till the last days of December. + +It was winter in Milan, turning to the new year--the year of flames for +continental Europe. A young man with a military stride, but out of +uniform, had stepped from a travelling carriage and entered a cigar-shop. +Upon calling for cigars, he was surprised to observe the woman who was +serving there keep her arms under her apron. She cast a look into the +street, where a crowd of boys and one or two lean men had gathered about +the door. After some delay, she entreated her customer to let her pluck +his cloak halfway over the counter; at the same time she thrust a cigar- +box under that concealment, together with a printed song in the Milanese +dialect. He lifted the paper to read it, and found it tough as Russ. +She translated some of the more salient couplets. Tobacco had become a +dead business, she said, now that the popular edict had gone forth +against 'smoking gold into the pockets of the Tedeschi.' None smoked +except officers and Englishmen. + +"I am an Englishman," he said. + +"And not an officer?" she asked; but he gave no answer. "Englishmen are +rare in winter, and don't like being mobbed," said the woman. + +Nodding to her urgent petition, he deferred the lighting of his cigar. +The vetturino requested him to jump up quickly, and a howl of "No smoking +in Milan--fuori!--down with tobacco-smokers!" beset the carriage. He +tossed half-a-dozen cigars on the pavement derisively. They were +scrambled for, as when a pack of wolves are diverted by a garment dropped +from the flying sledge, but the unluckier hands came after his heels in +fuller howl. He noticed the singular appearance of the streets. Bands +of the scum of the population hung at various points: from time to time a +shout was raised at a distance, "Abasso il zigarro! "and "Away with the +cigar!" went an organized file-firing of cries along the open place. +Several gentlemen were mobbed, and compelled to fling the cigars from +their teeth. He saw the polizta in twos and threes taking counsel and +shrugging, evidently too anxious to avoid a collision. Austrian soldiers +and subalterns alone smoked freely; they puffed the harder when the yells +and hootings and whistlings thickened at their heels. Sometimes they +walked on at their own pace; or, when the noise swelled to a crisis, +turned and stood fast, making an exhibition of curling smoke, as a mute +form of contempt. Then commenced hustlings and a tremendous uproar; +sabres were drawn, the whitecoats planted themselves back to back. Milan +was clearly in a condition of raging disease. The soldiery not only +accepted the challenge of the mob, but assumed the offensive. Here and +there they were seen crossing the street to puff obnoxiously in the faces +of people. Numerous subalterns were abroad, lively for strife, and +bright with the signal of their readiness. An icy wind blew down from +the Alps, whitening the housetops and the ways, but every street, torso, +and piazza was dense with loungers, as on a summer evening; the clamour +of a skirmish anywhere attracted streams of disciplined rioters on all +sides; it was the holiday of rascals. + +Our traveller had ordered his vetturino to drive slowly to his hotel, +that he might take the features of this novel scene. He soon showed his +view of the case by putting an unlighted cigar in his mouth. The +vetturino noted that his conveyance acted as a kindling-match to awaken +cries in quiet quarters, looked round, and grinned savagely at the sight +of the cigar. + +"Drop it, or I drop you," he said; and hearing the command to drive on, +pulled up short. + +They were in a narrow way leading to the Piazza de' Mercanti. While the +altercation was going on between them, a great push of men emerged from +one of the close courts some dozen paces ahead of the horse, bearing +forth a single young officer in their midst. + +"Signore, would you like to be the froth of a boiling of that sort?" The +vetturino seized the image at once to strike home his instance of the +danger of outraging the will of the people. + +Our traveller immediately unlocked a case that lay on the seat in front +of him, and drew out a steel scabbard, from which he plucked the sword, +and straightway leaped to the ground. The officer's cigar had been +dashed from his mouth: he stood at bay, sword in hand, meeting a rush +with a desperate stroke. The assistance of a second sword got him clear +of the fray. Both hastened forward as the crush melted with the hiss of +a withdrawing wave. They interchanged exclamations: +"Is it you, Jenna!" + +"In the devil's name, Pierson, have you come to keep your appointment in +mid-winter?" + +"Come on: I'll stick beside you." + +"On, then!" + +They glanced behind them, heeding little the tail of ruffians whom they +had silenced. + +"We shall have plenty of fighting soon, so we'll smoke a cordial cigar +together," said Lieutenant Jenna, and at once struck a light and blazed +defiance to Milan afresh--an example that was necessarily followed by his +comrade. "What has happened to you, Pierson? Of course, I knew you were +ready for our bit of play--though you'll hear what I said of you. How +the deuce could you think of running off with that opera girl, and +getting a fellow in the mountains to stab our merry old Weisspriess, just +because you fancied he was going to slip a word or so over the back of +his hand in Countess Lena's ear? No wonder she's shy of you now." + +"So, that's the tale afloat," said Wilfrid. "Come to my hotel and dine +with me. I suppose that cur has driven my luggage there." + +Jenna informed him that officers had to muster in barracks every evening. + +"Come and see your old comrades; they'll like you better in bad luck-- +there's the comfort of it: hang the human nature! She's a good old +brute, if you don't drive her hard. Our regiment left Verona in +November. There we had tolerable cookery; come and take the best we can +give you." + +But this invitation Wilfrid had to decline. + +"Why?" said Jenna. + +He replied: "I've stuck at Meran three months. I did it, in obedience to +what I understood from Colonel Zofel to be the General's orders. When I +was as perfectly dry as a baked Egyptian, I determined to believe that I +was not only in disgrace, but dismissed the service. I posted to Botzen +and Riva, on to Milan; and here I am. The least I can do is to show +myself here." + +"Very well, then, come and show yourself at our table," said Jenna. +"Listen: we'll make a furious row after supper, and get hauled in by the +collar before the General. You can swear you have never been absent from +duty: swear the General never gave you forcible furlough. I'll swear it; +all our fellows will swear it. The General will say, 'Oh! a very big +lie's equal to a truth; big brother to a fact, or something; as he always +does, you know. Face it out. We can't spare a good stout sword in these +times. On with me, my Pierson." + +"I would," said Wilfrid, doubtfully. + +A douse of water from a window extinguished their cigars. + +Lieutenant Jenna wiped his face deliberately, and lighting another cigar, +remarked--"This is the fifth poor devil who has come to an untimely end +within an hour. It is brisk work. Now, I'll swear I'll smoke this one +out." + +The cigar was scattered in sparks from his lips by a hat skilfully flung. +He picked it up miry and cleaned it, observing that his honour was +pledged to this fellow. The hat he trampled into a muddy lump. Wilfrid +found it impossible to ape his coolness. He swung about for an +adversary. Jenna pulled him on. + +"A salute from a window," he said. "We can't storm the houses. The +time'll come for it--and then, you cats!" + +Wilfrid inquired how long this state of things had been going on. Jenna +replied that they appeared to be in the middle of it;--nearly a week. +Another week, and their, day would arrive; and then! + +"Have you heard anything of a Count Ammiani here?" said Wilfrid. + +"Oh! he's one of the lot, I believe. We have him fast, as we'll have the +bundle of them. Keep eye on those dogs behind us, and manoeuvre your +cigar. The plan is, to give half-a-dozen bright puffs, and then keep it +in your fist; and when you see an Italian head, volcano him like fury. +Yes, I've heard of that Ammiani. The scoundrels, made an attempt to get +him out of prison--I fancy he's in the city prison--last Friday night. +I don't know exactly where he is; but it's pretty fair reckoning to say +that he'll enjoy a large slice of the next year in the charming solitude +of Spielberg, if Milan is restless. Is he a friend of yours?" + +"Not by any means," said Wilfrid. + +"Mio prigione!" Jenna mouthed with ineffable contemptuousness; "he'll +have time to write his memoirs, as, one of the dogs did. I remember my +mother crying over, the book. I read it? Not I! I never read books. +My father said--the stout old colonel--'Prison seems to make these +Italians take an interest in themselves.' 'Oh!' says my mother, 'why +can't they be at peace with us?' 'That's exactly the question,' says my +father, 'we're always putting to them.' And so I say. Why can't they +let us smoke our cigars in peace?" + +Jenna finished by assaulting a herd of faces with smoke. + +"Pig of a German!" was shouted; and "Porco, porco," was sung in a scale +of voices. Jenna received a blinding slap across the eyes. He staggered +back; Wilfrid slashed his sword in defence of him. He struck a man down. +"Blood! blood!" cried the gathering mob, and gave space, but hedged the +couple thickly. Windows were thrown up; forth came a rain of household +projectiles. The cry of "Blood! blood!" was repeated by numbers pouring +on them from the issues to right and left. It is a terrible cry in a +city. In a city of the South it rouses the wild beast in men to madness. +Jenna smoked triumphantly and blew great clouds, with an eye aloft for +the stools, basins, chairs, and water descending. They were in the +middle of one of the close streets of old Milan. The man felled by +Wilfrid was raised on strong arms, that his bleeding head might be seen +of all, and a dreadful hum went round. A fire of missiles, stones, balls +of wax, lumps of dirt, sticks of broken chairs, began to play. Wilfrid +had a sudden gleam of the face of his Verona assailant. He and Jenna +called "Follow me," in one breath, and drove forward with sword-points, +which they dashed at the foremost; by dint of swift semicirclings of the +edges they got through, but a mighty voice of command thundered; the +rearward portion of the mob swung rapidly to the front, presenting a +scattered second barrier; Jenna tripped on a fallen body, lost his cigar, +and swore that he must find it. A dagger struck his sword-arm. He +staggered and flourished his blade in the air, calling "On!" without +stirring. "This infernal cigar!" he said; and to the mob, "What mongrel +of you took my cigar?" Stones thumped on his breast; the barrier-line +ahead grew denser. "I'll go at them first; you're bleeding," said +Wilfrid. They were refreshed by the sound of German cheering, as in +approach. Jenna uplifted a crow of the regimental hurrah of the charge; +it was answered; on they went and got through the second fence, saw their +comrades, and were running to meet them, when a weighted ball hit Wilfrid +on the back of the head. He fell, as he believed, on a cushion of down, +and saw thousands of saints dancing with lamps along cathedral aisles. + +The next time he opened his eyes he fancied he had dropped into the +vaults of the cathedral. His sensation of sinking was so vivid that he +feared lest he should be going still further below. There was a lamp in +the chamber, and a young man sat reading by the light of the lamp. +Vision danced fantastically on Wilfrid's brain. He saw that he rocked as +in a ship, yet there was no noise of the sea; nothing save the remote +thunder haunting empty ears at strain for sound. He looked again; the +young man was gone, the lamp was flickering. Then he became conscious of +a strong ray on his eyelids; he beheld his enemy gazing down on him and +swooned. It was with joy, that when his wits returned, he found himself +looking on the young man by the lamp. "That other face was a dream," he +thought, and studied the aspect of the young man with the unwearied +attentiveness of partial stupor, that can note accurately, but cannot +deduce from its noting, and is inveterate in patience because it is +unideaed. Memory wakened first. + +"Guidascarpi!" he said to himself. + +The name was uttered half aloud. The young man started and closed his +book. + +"You know me?" he asked. + +"You are Guidascarpi?" + +"I am." + +"Guidascarpi, I think I helped to save your life in Meran." + +The young man stooped over him. "You speak of my brother Angelo. I am +Rinaldo. My debt to you is the same, if you have served him." + +"Is he safe?" + +"He is in Lugano." + +"The signorina Vittoria?" + +"In Turin." + +"Where am I?" + +The reply came from another mouth than Rinaldo's. + +"You are in the poor lodging of the shoemaker, whose shoes, if you had +thought fit to wear them, would have conducted you anywhere but to this +place." + +"Who are you?" Wilfrid moaned. + +"You ask who I am. I am the Eye of Italy. I am the Cat who sees in the +dark." Barto Rizzo raised the lamp and stood at his feet. "Look +straight. You know me, I think." + +Wilfrid sighed, "Yes, I know you; do your worst." + +His head throbbed with the hearing of a heavy laugh, as if a hammer had +knocked it. What ensued he knew not; he was left to his rest. He lay +there many days and nights, that were marked by no change of light; the +lamp burned unwearyingly. Rinaldo and a woman tended him. The sign of +his reviving strength was shown by a complaint he launched at the earthy +smell of the place. + +"It is like death," said Rinaldo, coming to his side. "I am used to it, +and familiar with death too," he added in a musical undertone. + +"Are you also a prisoner here?" Wilfrid questioned him. + +"I am." + +"The brute does not kill, then?" + +"No; he saves. I owe my life to him. He has rescued yours." + +"Mine?" said Wilfrid. + +"You would have been torn to pieces in the streets but for Barto Rizzo." + +The streets were the world above to Wilfrid; he was eager to hear of the +doings in them. Rinaldo told him that the tobacco-war raged still; the +soldiery had recently received orders to smoke abroad, and street battles +were hourly occurring. "They call this government!" he interjected. + +He was a soft-voiced youth; slim and tall and dark, like Angelo, but with +a more studious forehead. The book he was constantly reading was a book +of chemistry. He entertained Wilfrid with very strange talk. He spoke +of the stars and of a destiny. He cited certain minor events of his life +to show the ground of his present belief in there being a written destiny +for each individual man. "Angelo and I know it well. It was revealed to +us when we were boys. It has been certified to us up to this moment. +Mark what I tell you," he pursued in a devout sincerity of manner that +baffled remonstrance, "my days end with this new year. His end with the +year following. Our house is dead." + +Wilfrid pressed his hand. "Have you not been too long underground?" + +"That is the conviction I am coming to. But when I go out to breathe the +air of heaven, I go to my fate. Should I hesitate? We Italians of this +period are children of thunder and live the life of a flash. The worms +may creep on: the men must die. Out of us springs a better world. +Romara, Ammiani, Mercadesco, Montesini, Rufo, Cardi, whether they see it +or not, will sweep forward to it. To some of them, one additional day of +breath is precious. Not so for Angelo and me. We are unbeloved. We +have neither mother nor sister, nor betrothed. What is an existence that +can fly to no human arms? I have been too long underground, because, +while I continue to hide, I am as a drawn sword between two lovers." + +The previous mention of Ammiani's name, together with the knowledge he +had of Ammiani's relationship to the Guidascarpi, pointed an instant +identification of these lovers to Wilfrid. + +He asked feverishly who they were, and looked his best simplicity, as one +who was always interested by stories of lovers. + +The voice of Barto Rizzo, singing "Vittoria!" stopped Rinaldo's reply: +but Wilfrid read it in his smile at that word. He was too weak to +restrain his anguish, and flung on the couch and sobbed. Rinaldo +supposed that he was in fear of Barto, and encouraged him to meet the man +confidently. A lusty "Viva l'Italia! Vittoria!" heralded Barto's +entrance. "My boy! my noblest! we have beaten them the cravens! Tell me +now--have I served an apprenticeship to the devil for nothing? We have +struck the cigars out of their mouths and the monopoly-money out of their +pockets. They have surrendered. The Imperial order prohibits soldiers +from smoking in the streets of Milan, and so throughout Lombardy! Soon +we will have the prisons empty, by our own order. Trouble yourself no +more about Ammiani. He shall come out to the sound of trumpets. I hear +them! Hither, my Rosellina, my plump melon; up with your red lips, and +buss me a Napoleon salute--ha! ha!" + +Barto's wife went into his huge arm, and submissively lifted her face. +He kissed her like a barbaric king, laughing as from wine. + +Wilfrid smothered his head from his incarnate thunder. He was unnoticed +by Barto. Presently a silence told him that he was left to himself. An +idea possessed him that the triumph of the Italians meant the release of +Ammiani, and his release the loss of Vittoria for ever. Since her +graceless return of his devotion to her in Meran, something like a +passion--arising from the sole spring by which he could be excited to +conceive a passion--had filled his heart. He was one of those who +delight to dally with gentleness and faith, as with things that are their +heritage; but the mere suspicion of coquettry and indifference plunged +him into a fury of jealous wrathfulness, and tossed so desireable an +image of beauty before him that his mad thirst to embrace it seemed love. +By our manner of loving we are known. He thought it no meanness to +escape and cause a warning to be conveyed to the Government that there +was another attempt brewing for the rescue of Count Ammiani. Acting +forthwith on the hot impulse, he seized the lamp. The door was unlocked. +Luckier than Luigi had been, he found a ladder outside, and a square +opening through which he crawled; continuing to ascend along close +passages and up narrow flights of stairs, that appeared to him to be +fashioned to avoid the rooms of the house. At last he pushed a door, and +found himself in an armoury, among stands of muskets, swords, bayonets, +cartouche-boxes, and, most singular of all, though he observed them last, +small brass pieces of cannon, shining with polish. Shot was piled in +pyramids beneath their mouths. He examined the guns admiringly. There +were rows of daggers along shelves; some in sheath, others bare; one that +had been hastily wiped showed a smear of ropy blood. He stood debating +whether he should seize a sword for his protection. In the act of trying +its temper on the floor, the sword-hilt was knocked from his hand, and he +felt a coil of arms around him. He was in the imprisoning embrace of +Barto Rizzo's wife. His first, and perhaps natural, impression accused +her of a violent display of an eccentric passion for his manly charms; +and the tighter she locked him, the more reasonably was he held to +suppose it; but as, while stamping on the floor, she offered nothing to +his eyes save the yellow poll of her neck, and hung neither panting nor +speaking, he became undeceived. His struggles were preposterous; his +lively sense of ridicule speedily stopped them. He remained passive, +from time to time desperately adjuring his living prison to let him +loose, or to conduct him whither he had come; but the inexorable coil +kept fast--how long there was no guessing--till he could have roared out +tears of rage, and that is extremity for an Englishman. Rinaldo arrived +in his aid; but the woman still clung to him. He was freed only by the +voice of Barto Rizzo, who marched him back. Rinaldo subsequently told +him that his discovery of the armoury necessitated his confinement. + +"Necessitates it!" cried Wilfrid. "Is this your Italian gratitude?" + +The other answered: "My friend, you risked your fortune for my brother; +but this is a case that concerns our country." + +He deemed these words to be an unquestionable justification, for he said +no more. After this they ceased to converse. + +Each lay down on his strip of couch-matting; rose and ate, and passed the +dreadful untamed hours; nor would Wilfrid ask whether it was day or +night. We belong to time so utterly, that when we get no note of time, +it wears the shrouded head of death for us already. Rinaldo could quit +the place as he pleased; he knew the hours; and Wilfrid supposed that it +must be hatred that kept him from voluntarily divulging that blessed +piece of knowledge. He had to encourage a retorting spirit of hatred in +order to mask his intense craving. By an assiduous calculation of +seconds and minutes, he was enabled to judge that the lamp burned a space +of six hours before it required replenishing. Barto Rizzo's wife trimmed +it regularly, but the accursed woman came at all seasons. She brought +their meals irregularly, and she would never open her lips: she was like +a guardian of the tombs. Wilfrid abandoned his dream of the variation of +night and day, and with that the sense of life deadened, as the lamp did +toward the sixth hour. Thenceforward his existence fed on the movements +of his companion, the workings of whose mind he began to read with a +marvellous insight. He knew once, long in advance of the act or an +indication of it, that Rinaldo was bent on prayer. Rinaldo had slightly +closed his eyelids during the perusal of his book; he had taken a pencil +and traced lines on it from memory, and dotted points here and there; he +had left the room, and returned to resume his study. Then, after closing +the book softly, he had taken up the mark he was accustomed to place in +the last page of his reading, and tossed it away. Wilfrid was prepared +to clap hands when he should see the hated fellow drop on his knees; but +when that sight verified his calculation, he huddled himself exultingly +in his couch-cloth:--it was like a confirming clamour to him that he was +yet wholly alive. He watched the anguish of the prayer, and was rewarded +for the strain of his faculties by sleep. Barto Rizzo's rough voice +awakened him. Barto had evidently just communicated dismal tidings to +Rinaldo, who left the vault with him, and was absent long enough to make +Wilfrid forget his hatred in an irresistible desire to catch him by the +arm and look in his face. + +"Ah! you have not forsaken me," the greeting leaped out. + +"Not now," said Rinaldo. + +"Do you think of going?" + +"I will speak to you presently, my friend." + +"Hound!" cried Wilfrid, and turned his face to the wall. + +Until he slept, he heard the rapid travelling of a pen; on his awakening, +the pen vexed him like a chirping cricket that tells us that cock-crow is +long distant when we are moaning for the dawn. Great drops of sweat were +on Rinaldo's forehead. He wrote as one who poured forth a history +without pause. Barto's wife came to the lamp and beckoned him out, +bearing the lamp away. There was now for the first time darkness in this +vault. Wilfrid called Rinaldo by name, and heard nothing but the fear of +the place, which seemed to rise bristling at his voice and shrink from +it. He called till dread of his voice held him dumb. "I am, then, a +coward," he thought. Nor could he by-and-by repress a start of terror on +hearing Rinaldo speak out of the darkness. With screams for the lamp, +and cries that he was suffering slow murder, he underwent a paroxysm in +the effort to conceal his abject horror. Rinaldo sat by his side +patiently. At last, he said: "We are both of us prisoners on equal terms +now." That was quieting intelligence to Wilfrid, who asked eagerly: +"What hour is it?" + +It was eleven of the forenoon. Wilfrid strove to dissociate his +recollection of clear daylight from the pressure of the hideous +featureless time surrounding him. He asked: "What week?" It was the +first week in March. Wilfrid could not keep from sobbing aloud. In the +early period of such a captivity, imagination, deprived of all other +food, conjures phantasms for the employment of the brain; but there is +still some consciousness within the torpid intellect wakeful to laugh at +them as they fly, though they have held us at their mercy. The face of +time had been imaged like the withering mask of a corpse to him. He had +felt, nevertheless, that things had gone on as we trust them to do at the +closing of our eyelids: he had preserved a mystical remote faith in the +steady running of the world above, and hugged it as his most precious +treasure. A thunder was rolled in his ears when he heard of the flight +of two months at one bound. Two big months! He would have guessed, at +farthest, two weeks. "I have been two months in one shirt? Impossible!" +he exclaimed. His serious idea (he cherished it for the support of his +reason) was, that the world above had played a mad prank since he had +been shuffled off its stage. + +"It can't be March," he said. "Is there sunlight overhead?" + +"It is a true Milanese March," Rinaldo replied. + +"Why am I kept a prisoner?" + +"I cannot say. There must be some idea of making use of you." + +"Have you arms?" + +"I have none." + +"You know where they're to be had." + +"I know, but I would not take them if I could. They, my friend, are for +a better cause." + +"A thousand curses on your country!" cried Wilfrid. "Give me air; give +me freedom, I am stifled; I am eaten up with dirt; I am half dead. Are +we never to have the lamp again?" + +"Hear me speak," Rinaldo stopped his ravings. "I will tell you what my +position is. A second attempt has been made to help Count Ammiani's +escape; it has failed. He is detained a prisoner by the Government under +the pretence that he is implicated in the slaying of an Austrian noble by +the hands of two brothers, one of whom slew him justly--not as a dog is +slain, but according to every honourable stipulation of the code. I was +the witness of the deed. It is for me that my cousin, Count Ammiani, +droops in prison when he should be with his bride. Let me speak on, I +pray you. I have said that I stand between two lovers. I can release +him, I know well, by giving myself up to the Government. Unless I do so +instantly, he will be removed from Milan to one of their fortresses in +the interior, and there he may cry to the walls and iron-bars for his +trial. They are aware that he is dear to Milan, and these two miserable +attempts have furnished them with their excuse. Barto Rizzo bids me +wait. I have waited: I can wait no longer. The lamp is withheld from me +to stop my writing to my brother, that I may warn him of my design, but +the letter is written; the messenger is on his way to Lugano. I do not +state my intentions before I have taken measures to accomplish them. I +am as much Barto Rizzo's prisoner now as you are." + +The plague of darkness and thirst for daylight prevented Wilfrid from +having any other sentiment than gladness that a companion equally +unfortunate with himself was here, and equally desirous to go forth. +When Barto's wife brought their meal, and the lamp to light them eating +it, Rinaldo handed her pen, ink, pencil, paper, all the material of +correspondence; upon which, as one who had received a stipulated +exchange, she let the lamp remain. While the new and thrice-dear rays +were illumining her dark-coloured solid beauty, I know not what touch of +man-like envy or hurt vanity led Wilfrid to observe that the woman's eyes +dwelt with a singular fulness and softness on Rinaldo. It was fulness +and softness void of fire, a true ox-eyed gaze, but human in the fall of +the eyelids; almost such as an early poet of the brush gave to the Virgin +carrying her Child, to become an everlasting reduplicated image of a +mother's strong beneficence of love. He called Rinaldo's attention to it +when the woman had gone. Rinaldo understood his meaning at once. + +"It will have to be so, I fear," he said; "I have thought of it. But if +I lead her to disobey Barto, there is little hope for the poor soul." He +rose up straight, like one who would utter grace for meat. "Must we, O +my God, give a sacrifice at every step?" + +With that he resumed his seat stiffly, and bent and murmured to himself. +Wilfrid had at one time of his life imagined that he was marked by a +peculiar distinction from the common herd; but contact with this young +man taught him to feel his fellowship to the world at large, and to +rejoice at it, though it partially humbled him. + +They had no further visit from Barto Rizzo. The woman tended them in the +same unswerving silence, and at whiles that adorable maternity of aspect. +Wilfrid was touched by commiseration for her. He was too bitterly +fretful on account of clean linen and the liberty which fluttered the +prospect of it, to think much upon what her fate might be: perhaps a +beating, perhaps the knife. But the vileness of wearing one shirt two +months and more had hardened his heart; and though he was considerate +enough not to prompt his companion very impatiently, he submitted +desperate futile schemes to him, and suggested--"To-night?--tomorrow?-- +the next day?" Rinaldo did not heed him. He lay on his couch like one +who bleeds inwardly, thinking of the complacent faithfulness of that poor +creature's face. Barto Rizzo had sworn to him that there should be a +rising in Milan before the month was out; but he had lost all confidence +in Milanese risings. Ammiani would be removed, if he delayed; and he +knew that the moment his letter reached Lugano, Angelo would start for +Milan and claim to surrender in his stead. The woman came, and went +forth, and Rinaldo did not look at her until his resolve was firm. + +He said to Wilfrid in her presence, "Swear that you will reveal nothing +of this house." + +Wilfrid spiritedly pronounced his gladdest oath. + +"It is dark in the streets," Rinaldo addressed the woman. "Lead us out, +for the hour has come when I must go." + +She clutched her hands below her bosom to stop its great heaving, and +stood as one smitten by the sudden hearing of her sentence. The sight +was pitiful, for her face scarcely changed; the anguish was +expressionless. Rinaldo pointed sternly to the door. + +"Stay," Wilfrid interposed. "That wretch may be in the house, and will +kill her." + +"She is not thinking of herself," said Rinaldo. + +"But, stay," Wilfrid repeated. The woman's way of taking breath shocked +and enfeebled him. + +Rinaldo threw the door open. + +"Must you? must you?" her voice broke. + +"Waste no words." + +"You have not seen a priest?" + +"I go to him." + +"You die." + +"What is death to me? Be dumb, that I may think well of you till my last +moment." + +"What is death tome? Be dumb!" + +She had spoken with her eyes fixed on his couch. It was the figure of +one upon the scaffold, knitting her frame to hold up a strangled heart. + +"What is death to me? Be dumb!" she echoed him many times on the rise +and fall of her breathing, and turned to get him in her eyes. "Be dumb! +be dumb!" She threw her arms wide out, and pressed his temples and +kissed him. + +The scene was like hot iron to Wilfrid's senses. When he heard her +coolly asking him for his handkerchief to blind him, he had forgotten the +purpose, and gave it mechanically. Nothing was uttered throughout the +long mountings and descent of stairs. They passed across one corridor +where the walls told of a humming assemblage of men within. A current of +keen air was the first salute Wilfrid received from the world above; his +handkerchief was loosened; he stood foolish as a blind man, weak as a +hospital patient, on the steps leading into a small square of visible +darkness, and heard the door shut behind him. Rinaldo led him from the +court to the street. + +"Farewell," he said. "Get some housing instantly; avoid exposure to the +air. I leave you." + +Wilfrid spent his tongue in a fruitless and meaningless remonstrance. +"And you?" he had the grace to ask. + +"I go straight to find a priest. Farewell." + +So they parted. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR + +THE FIVE DAYS OF MILAN + +The same hand which brought Rinaldo's letter to his brother delivered a +message from Barto Rizzo, bidding Angelo to start at once and head a +stout dozen or so of gallant Swiss. The letter and the message appeared +to be grievous contradictions: one was evidently a note of despair, while +the other sang like a trumpet. But both were of a character to draw him +swiftly on to Milan. He sent word to his Lugano friends, naming a +village among the mountains between Como and Varese, that they might join +him there if they pleased. + +Toward nightfall, on the nineteenth of the month, he stood with a small +band of Ticinese and Italian fighting lads two miles distant from the +city. There was a momentary break in long hours of rain; the air was +full of inexplicable sounds, that floated over them like a toning of +multitudes wailing and singing fitfully behind a swaying screen. They +bent their heads. At intervals a sovereign stamp on the pulsation of the +uproar said, distinct as a voice in the ear--Cannon. "Milan's alive!" +Angelo cried, and they streamed forward under the hurry of stars and +scud, till thumping guns and pattering musket-shots, the long big boom of +surgent hosts, and the muffled voluming and crash of storm-bells, +proclaimed that the insurrection was hot. A rout of peasants bearing +immense ladders met them, and they joined with cheers, and rushed to the +walls. As yet no gate was in the possession of the people. The walls +showed bayonet-points: a thin edge of steel encircled a pit of fire. +Angelo resolved to break through at once. The peasants hesitated, but +his own men were of one mind to follow, and, planting his ladder in the +ditch, he rushed up foremost. The ladder was full short; he called out +in German to a soldier to reach his hand down, and the butt-end of a +musket was dropped, which he grasped, and by this aid sprang to the +parapet, and was seized. "Stop," he said, "there's a fellow below with +my brandy-flask and portmanteau." The soldiers were Italians; they +laughed, and hauled away at man after man of the mounting troop, calling +alternately "brandy-flask!--portmanteau!" as each one raised a head +above the parapet. "The signor has a good supply of spirits and +baggage," they remarked. He gave them money for porterage, saying, "You +see, the gates are held by that infernal people, and a quiet traveller +must come over the walls. Viva l'Italia! who follows me?" He carried +away three of those present. The remainder swore that they and their +comrades would be on his side on the morrow. Guided by the new accession +to his force, Angelo gained the streets. All shots had ceased; the +streets were lighted with torches and hand-lamps; barricades were up +everywhere, like a convulsion of the earth. Tired of receiving +challenges and mounting the endless piles of stones, he sat down at the +head of the Corso di Porta Nuova, and took refreshments from the hands +of ladies. The house-doors were all open. The ladies came forth bearing +wine and minestra, meat and bread, on trays; and quiet eating and +drinking, and fortifying of the barricades, went on. Men were rubbing +their arms and trying rusty gun-locks. Few of them had not seen Barto +Rizzo that day; but Angelo could get no tidings of his brother. He slept +on a door-step, dreaming that he was blown about among the angels of +heaven and hell by a glorious tempest. Near morning an officer of +volunteers came to inspect the barricade defences. Angelo knew him by +sight; it was Luciano Romara. He explained the position of the opposing +forces. The Marshal, he said, was clearly no street-fighter. Estimating +the army under his orders in Milan at from ten to eleven thousand men of +all arms, it was impossible for him to guard the gates and then walls, +and at the same time fight the city. Nor could he provision his troops. +Yesterday the troops had made one: charge and done mischief, but they had +immediately retired. "And if they take to cannonading us to-day, we +shall know what that means," Romara concluded. Angelo wanted to join +him. "No, stay here," said Romara. "I think you are a man who won't +give ground." He had not seen either Rinaldo or Ammiani, but spoke of +both as certain to be rescued. + +Rain and cannon filled the weary space of that day. Some of the +barricades fronting the city gates had been battered down by nightfall; +they were restored within an hour. Their defenders entered the houses +right and left during the cannonade, waiting to meet the charge; but the +Austrians held off. "They have no plan," Romara said on his second visit +of inspection; "they are waiting on Fortune, and starve meanwhile. We +can beat them at that business." + +Romara took Angelo and his Swiss away with him. The interior of the city +was abandoned by the Imperialists, who held two or three of the principal +buildings and the square of the Duomo. Clouds were driving thick across +the cold-gleaming sky when the storm-bells burst out with the wild +Jubilee-music of insurrection--a carol, a jangle of all discord, savage +as flame. Every church of the city lent its iron tongue to the peal; and +now they joined and now rolled apart, now joined again and clanged like +souls shrieking across the black gulfs of an earthquake; they swam aloft +with mournful delirium, tumbled together, were scattered in spray, +dissolved, renewed, died, as a last worn wave casts itself on an unfooted +shore, and rang again as through rent doorways, became a clamorous host, +an iron body, a pressure as of a down-drawn firmament, and once more a +hollow vast, as if the abysses of the Circles were sounded through and +through. To the Milanese it was an intoxication; it was the howling of +madness to the Austrians--a torment and a terror: they could neither +sing, nor laugh, nor talk under it. Where they stood in the city, the +troops could barely hear their officers' call of command. No sooner had +the bells broken out than the length of every street and Corso flashed +with the tri-coloured flag; musket-muzzles peeped from the windows; men +with great squares of pavement lined the roofs. Romara mounted a stiff +barricade and beheld a scattered regiment running the gauntlet of storms +of shot and missiles, in full retreat upon the citadel. On they came, +officers in front for the charge, as usual with the Austrians; fire on +both flanks, a furious mob at their heels, and the barricade before them. +They rushed at Romara, and were hurled back, and stood in a riddled lump. +Suddenly Romara knocked up the rifles of the couching Swiss; he yelled to +the houses to stop firing. "Surrender your prisoners,--you shall pass," +he called. He had seen one dear head in the knot of the soldiery. No +answer was given. Romara, with Angelo and his Swiss and the ranks of the +barricade, poured over and pierced the streaming mass, steel for steel. + +"Ammiani! Ammiani!" Romara cried; a roar from the other side, "Barto! +Barto! the Great Cat!" met the cry. The Austrians struck up a cheer +under the iron derision of the bells; it was ludicrous, it was as if a +door had slammed on their mouths, ringing tremendous echoes in a vaulted +roof. They stood sweeping fire in two oblong lines; a show of military +array was preserved like a tattered robe, till Romara drove at their +centre and left the retreat clear across the barricade. Then the +whitecoats were seen flowing over, the motley surging hosts from the city +in pursuit--foam of a storm-torrent hurled forward by the black tumult of +precipitous waters. Angelo fell on his brother's neck; Romara clasped +Carlo Ammiani. These two were being marched from the prison to the +citadel when Barto Rizzo, who had prepared to storm the building, +assailed the troops. To him mainly they were indebted for their rescue. + +Even in that ecstasy of meeting, the young men smiled at the +preternatural transport on his features as he bounded by them, mad for +slaughter, and mounting a small brass gun on the barricade, sent the +charges of shot into the rear of the enemy. He kissed the black lip of +his little thunderer in, a rapture of passion; called it his wife, his +naked wife; the best of mistresses, who spoke only when he charged her to +speak; raved that she was fair, and liked hugging; that she was true, and +the handsomest daughter of Italy; that she would be the mother of big +ones--none better than herself, though they were mountains of sulphur big +enough to make one gulp of an army. + +His wife in the flesh stood at his feet with a hand-grenade and a rifle, +daggers and pistols in her belt. Her face was black with powder-smoke as +the muzzle of the gun. She looked at Rinaldo once, and Rinaldo at her; +both dropped their eyes, for their joy at seeing one another alive was +mighty. + +Dead Austrians were gathered in a heap. Dead and wounded Milanese were +taken into the houses. Wine was brought forth by ladies and household +women. An old crutched beggar, who had performed a deed of singular +intrepidity in himself kindling a fire at the door of one of the +principal buildings besieged by the people, and who showed perforated +rags with a comical ejaculation of thanks to the Austrians for knowing +how to hit a scarecrow and make a beggar holy, was the object of +particular attention. Barto seated him on his gun, saying that his +mistress and beauty was honoured; ladies were proud in waiting on the +fine frowzy old man. It chanced during that morning that Wilfrid Pierson +had attached himself to Lieutenant Jenna's regiment as a volunteer. He +had no arms, nothing but a huge white umbrella, under which he walked dry +in the heavy rain, and passed through the fire like an impassive +spectator of queer events. Angelo's Swiss had captured them, and the mob +were maltreating them because they declined to shout for this valorous +ancient beggarman. "No doubt he's a capital fellow," said Jenna; "but +'Viva Scottocorni' is not my language;" and the spirited little subaltern +repeated his "Excuse me," with very good temper, while one knocked off +his shako, another tugged at his coat-skirts. Wilfrid sang out to the +Guidascarpi, and the brothers sprang to him and set them free; but the +mob, like any other wild beast gorged with blood, wanted play, and urged +Barto to insist that these victims should shout the viva in exaltation of +their hero. + +"Is there a finer voice than mine?" said Barto, and he roared the 'viva' +like a melodious bull. Yet Wilfrid saw that he had been recognized. In +the hour of triumph Barto Rizzo had no lust for petty vengeance. The +magnanimous devil plumped his gorge contentedly on victory. His ardour +blazed from his swarthy crimson features like a blown fire, when scouts +came running down with word that all about the Porta Camosina, Madonna +del Carmine, and the Gardens, the Austrians were reaping the white flag +of the inhabitants of that district. Thitherward his cry of "Down with +the Tedeschi!" led the boiling tide. Rinaldo drew Wilfrid and Jenna to +an open doorway, counselling the latter to strip the gold from his coat +and speak his Italian in monosyllables. A woman of the house gave her +promise to shelter and to pass them forward. Romara, Ammiani, and the +Guidascarpi, went straight to the Casa Gonfalonieri, where they hoped to +see stray members of the Council of War, and hear a correction of certain +unpleasant rumours concerning the dealings of the Provisional Government +with Charles Albert. + +The first crack of a division between the patriot force and the +aristocracy commenced this day; the day following it was a breach. + +A little before dusk the bells of the city ceased their hammering, and +when they ceased, all noises of men and musketry seemed childish. The +woman who had promised to lead Wilfrid and Jenna to the citadel, feared +no longer either for herself or them, and passed them on up the Corso +Francesco past the Contrada del Monte. Jenna pointed out the Duchess of +Graatli's house, saying, "By the way, the Lenkensteins are here; they +left Venice last week. Of course you know, or don't you?--and there they +must stop, I suppose." Wilfrid nodded an immediate good-bye to him, and +crossed to the house-door. His eccentric fashion of acting had given him +fame in the army, but Jenna stormed at it now, and begged him to come on +and present himself to General Schoneck, if not to General Pierson. +Wilfrid refused even to look behind him. In fact, it was a part of the +gallant fellow's coxcombry (or nationality) to play the Englishman. He +remained fixed by the housedoor till midnight, when a body of men in the +garb of citizens, volubly and violently Italian in their talk, struck +thrice at the door. Wilfrid perceived Count Lenkenstein among them. +The ladies Bianca, Anna, and Lena issued mantled and hooded between the +lights of two barricade watchfires. Wilfrid stepped after them. They +had the password, for the barricades were crossed. The captain of the +head-barricade in the Corso demurred, requiring a counter-sign. +Straightway he was cut down. He blew an alarm-call, when up sprang a +hundred torches. The band of Germans dashed at the barricade as at the +tusks of a boar. They were picked men, most of them officers, but a +scanty number in the thick of an armed populace. Wilfrid saw the lighted +passage into the great house, and thither, throwing out his arms, he bore +the affrighted group of ladies, as a careful shepherd might do. +Returning to Count Lenkenstein's side, "Where are they?" the count said, +in mortal dread. "Safe," Wilfrid replied. The count frowned at him +inquisitively. "Cut your way through, and on!" he cried to three or four +who hung near him; and these went to the slaughter. + +"Why do you stand by me, sir?" said the count. Interior barricades were +pouring their combatants to the spot; Count Lenkenstein was plunged upon +the door-steps. Wilfrid gained half-a-minute's parley by shouting in his +foreign accent, "Would you hurt an Englishman?" Some one took him by the +arm, and helping to raise the count, hurried them both into the house. + +"You must make excuses for popular fury in times like these," the +stranger observed. + +The Austrian nobleman asked him stiffly for his name. The name of Count +Ammiani was given. "I think you know it," Carlo added. + +"You escaped from your lawful imprisonment this day, did you not?--you +and your cousin, the assassin. I talk of law! I might as justly talk of +honour. Who lives here?" Carlo contained himself to answer, "The +present occupant is, I believe, if I have hit the house I was seeking, +the Countess d'Isorella." + +"My family were placed here, sir?" Count Lenkenstein inquired of Wilfrid. +But Wilfrid's attention was frozen by the sight of Vittoria's lover. A +wifely call of "Adalbert" from above quieted the count's anxiety. + +"Countess d'Isorella," he said. "I know that woman. She belongs to the +secret cabinet of Carlo Alberto--a woman with three edges. Did she not +visit you in prison two weeks ago? I speak to you, Count Ammiani. She +applied to the Archduke and the Marshal for permission to visit you. It +was accorded. To the devil with our days of benignity! She was from +Turin. The shuffle has made her my hostess for the nonce. I will go to +her. You, sir," the count turned to Wilfrid--"you will stay below. Are +you in the pay of the insurgents?" + +Wilfrid, the weakest of human beings where women were involved with him, +did one of the hardest things which can task a young man's fortitude: he +looked his superior in the face, and neither blenched, nor frowned, nor +spoke. + +Ammiani spoke for him. "There is no pay given in our ranks." + +"The licence to rob is supposed to be an equivalent," said the count. + +Countess d'Isorella herself came downstairs, with profuse apologies for +the absence of all her male domestics, and many delicate dimples about +her mouth in uttering them. Her look at Ammiani struck Wilfrid as having +a peculiar burden either of meaning or of passion in it. The count +grimaced angrily when he heard that his sister Lena was not yet able to +bear the fatigue of a walk to the citadel. "I fear you must all be my +guests, for an hour at least," said the countess. + +Wilfrid was left pacing the hall. He thought he had never beheld so +splendid a person, or one so subjugatingly gracious. Her speech and +manner poured oil on the uncivil Austrian nobleman. What perchance had +stricken Lena? + +He guessed; and guessed it rightly. A folded scrap of paper signed by +the Countess of Lenkenstein was brought to him. + +It said:--"Are you making common cause with the rebels? Reply. One asks +who should be told." + +He wrote:--"I am an outcast of the army. I fight as a volunteer with the +K. K. troops. Could I abandon them in their peril?" + +The touch of sentiment he appended for Lena's comfort. He was too +strongly impressed by the new vision of beauty in the house for his +imagination to be flushed by the romantic posture of his devotion to a +trailing flag. + +No other message was delivered. Ammiani presently descended and obtained +a guard from the barricade; word was sent on to the barricades in advance +toward the citadel. Wilfrid stood aside as Count Lenkenstein led the +ladies to the door, bearing Lena on his arm. She passed her lover +veiled. The count said, "You follow." He used the menial second person +plural of German, and repeated it peremptorily. + +"I follow no civilian," said Wilfrid. + +"Remember, sir, that if you are seen with arms in your hands, and are not +in the ranks, you run the chances of being hanged." + +Lena broke loose from her brother; in spite of Anna's sharp remonstrance +and the count's vexed stamp of the foot, she implored her lover:--"Come +with us; pardon us; protect me--me! You shall not be treated harshly. +They shall not Oh! be near me. I have been ill; I shrink from danger. +Be near me!" + +Such humble pleading permitted Wilfrid's sore spirit to succumb with the +requisite show of chivalrous dignity. He bowed, and gravely opened his +enormous umbrella, which he held up over the heads of the ladies, while +Ammiani led the way. All was quiet near the citadel. A fog of plashing +rain hung in red gloom about the many watchfires of the insurgents, but +the Austrian head-quarters lay sombre and still. Close at the gates, +Ammiani saluted the ladies. Wilfrid did the same, and heard Lena's call +to him unmoved. + +"May I dare to hint to you that it would be better for you to join your +party?" said Ammiani. + +Wilfrid walked on. After appearing to weigh the matter, he answered, +"The umbrella will be of no further service to them to-night." + +Ammiani laughed, and begged to be forgiven; but he could have done +nothing more flattering. + +Sore at all points, tricked and ruined, irascible under the sense of his +injuries, hating everybody and not honouring himself, Wilfrid was fast +growing to be an eccentric by profession. To appear cool and careless +was the great effort of his mind. + +"We were introduced one day in the Piazza d'Armi," said Ammiani. +"I would have found means to convey my apologies to you for my behaviour +on that occasion, but I have been at the mercy of my enemies. Lieutenant +Pierson, will you pardon me? I have learnt how dear you and your family +should be to me. Pray, accept my excuses and my counsel. The Countess +Lena was my friend when I was a boy. She is in deep distress." + +"I thank you, Count Ammiani, for your extremely disinterested advice," +said Wilfrid; but the Italian was not cut to the quick by his irony; and +he added: "I have hoisted, you perceive, the white umbrella instead of +wearing the white coat. It is almost as good as an hotel in these times; +it gives as much shelter and nearly as much provision, and, I may say, +better attendance. Good-night. You will be at it again about daylight, +I suppose?" + +"Possibly a little before," said Ammiani, cooled by the false ring of +this kind of speech. + +"It's useless to expect that your infernal bells will not burst out like +all the lunatics on earth?" + +"Quite useless, I fear. Good-night." + +Ammiani charged one of the men at an outer barricade to follow the white +umbrella and pass it on. + +He returned to the Countess d'Isorella, who was awaiting him, and alone. + +This glorious head had aroused his first boyish passion. Scandal was +busy concerning the two, when Violetta d'Asola, the youthfullest widow in +Lombardy and the loveliest woman, gave her hand to Count d'Isorella, who +took it without question of the boy Ammiani. Carlo's mother assisted in +that arrangement; a maternal plot, for which he could thank her only +after he had seen Vittoria, and then had heard the buzz of whispers at +Violetta's name. Countess d'Isorella proved her friendship to have +survived the old passion, by travelling expressly from Turin to obtain +leave to visit him in prison. It was a marvellous face to look upon +between prison walls. Rescued while the soldiers were marching him to +the citadel that day, he was called by pure duty to pay his respects to +the countess as soon as he had heard from his mother that she was in the +city. Nor was his mother sorry that he should go. She had patiently +submitted to the fact of his betrothal to Vittoria, which was his +safeguard in similar perils; and she rather hoped for Violetta to wean +him from his extreme republicanism. By arguments? By influence, +perhaps. Carlo's republicanism was preternatural in her sight, and she +presumed that Violetta would talk to him discreetly and persuasively of +the noble designs of the king. + +Violetta d'Isorella received him with a gracious lifting of her fingers +to his lips; congratulating him on his escape, and on the good fortune of +the day. She laughed at the Lenkensteins and the singular Englishman; +sat down to a little supper-tray, and pouted humorously as she asked him +to feed on confects and wine; the huge appetites of the insurgents had +devoured all her meat and bread. + +"Why are you here?" he said. + +She did well in replying boldly, "For the king." + +"Would you tell another that it is for the king?" + +"Would I speak to another as I speak to you?" + +Ammiani inclined his head. + +They spoke of the prospects of the insurrection, of the expected outbreak +in Venice, the eruption of Paris and Vienna, and the new life of Italy; +touching on Carlo Alberto to explode the truce in a laughing dissension. +At last she said seriously, "I am a born Venetian, you know; I am not +Piedmontese. Let me be sure that the king betrays the country, and I +will prefer many heads to one. Excuse me if I am more womanly just at +present. The king has sent his accredited messenger Tartini to the +Provisional Government, requesting it to accept his authority. Why not? +why not? on both sides. Count Medole gives his adhesion to the king, +but you have a Council of War that rejects the king's overtures--a revolt +within a revolt. + +"It is deplorable. You must have an army. The Piedmontese once over the +Ticino, how can you act in opposition to it? You must learn to take a +master. The king is only, or he appears, tricksy because you compel him +to wind and counterplot. I swear to you, Italy is his foremost thought. +The Star of Italy sits on the Cross of Savoy." + +Ammiani kept his eyelids modestly down. "Ten thousand to plead for him, +such as you!" he said. "But there is only one!" + +"If you had been headstrong once upon a time, and I had been weak, you +see, my Carlo, you would have been a domestic tyrant, I a rebel. You +will not admit the existence of a virtue in an opposite opinion. Wise +was your mother when she said 'No' to a wilful boy!" + +Violetta lit her cigarette and puffed the smoke lightly. + +"I told you in that horrid dungeon, my Carlo Amaranto--I call you by the +old name--the old name is sweet!--I told you that your Vittoria is +enamoured of the king. She blushes like a battle-flag for the king. +I have heard her 'Viva il Re!' It was musical." + +"So I should have thought." + +"Ay, but my amaranto-innamorato, does it not foretell strife? Would you +ever--ever take a heart with a king's head stamped on it into your arms?" + +"Give me the chance!" + +He was guilty of this ardent piece of innocence though Violetta had +pitched her voice in the key significant of a secret thing belonging to +two memories that had not always flowed dividedly. + +"Like a common coin?" she resumed. + +"A heart with a king's head stamped on it like a common coin." + +He recollected the sentence. He had once, during the heat of his grief +for Giacomo Piaveni, cast it in her teeth. + +Violetta repeated it, as to herself, tonelessly; a method of making an +old unkindness strike back on its author with effect. + +"Did we part good friends? I forget," she broke the silence. + +"We meet, and we will be the best of friends," said Ammiani. + +"Tell your mother I am not three years older than her son,--I am thirty. +Who will make me young again? Tell her, my Carlo, that the genius for +intrigue, of which she accuses me, develops at a surprising rate. As +regards my beauty," the countess put a tooth of pearl on her soft under +lip. + +Ammiani assured her that he would find words of his own for her beauty. + +"I hear the eulogy, I know the sonnet," said Violetta, smiling, and +described the points of a brunette: the thick black banded hair, the full +brown eyes, the plastic brows couching over them;--it was Vittoria's +face: Violetta was a flower of colour, fair, with but one shade of dark +tinting on her brown eye-brows and eye-lashes, as you may see a strip of +night-cloud cross the forehead of morning. She was yellow-haired, almost +purple-eyed, so rich was the blue of the pupils. Vittoria could be +sallow in despondency; but this Violetta never failed in plumpness and +freshness. The pencil which had given her aspect the one touch of +discord, endowed it with a subtle harmony, like mystery; and Ammiani +remembered his having stood once on the Lido of Venice, and eyed the dawn +across the Adriatic, and dreamed that Violetta was born of the loveliness +and held in her bosom the hopes of morning. He dreamed of it now, +feeling the smooth roll of a torrent. + +A cry of "Arms!" rang down the length of the Corso. + +He started to his feet thankfully. + +"Take me to your mother," she said. "I loathe to hear firing and be +alone." + +Ammiani threw up the window. There was a stir of lamps and torches +below, and the low sky hung red. Violetta stood quickly thick-shod and +hooded. + +"Your mother will admit my companionship, Carlo?" + +"She desires to thank you." + +"She has no longer any fear of me?" + +"You will find her of one mind with you." + +"Concerning the king!" + +"I would say, on most subjects." + +"But that you do not know my mind! You are modest. Confess that you are +thinking the hour you have passed with me has been wasted." + +"I am, now I hear the call to arms." + +"If I had all the while entertained you with talk of your Vittoria! It +would not have been wasted then, my amaranto. It is not wasted for me. +If a shot should strike you--" + +"Tell her I died loving her with all my soul!" cried Ammiani. + +Violetta's frame quivered as if he had smitten her. + +They left the house. Countess Ammiani's door was the length of a +barricade distant: it swung open to them, like all the other house-doors +which were, or wished to be esteemed, true to the cause, and hospitable +toward patriots. + +"Remember, when you need a refuge, my villa is on Lago Maggiore," +Violetta said, and kissed her finger-tips to him. + +An hour after, by the light of this unlucky little speech, he thought of +her as a shameless coquette. "When I need a refuge? Is not Milan in +arms?--Italy alive? She considers it all a passing epidemic; or, +perhaps, she is to plead for me to the king!" + +That set him thinking moodily over the things she had uttered of +Vittoria's strange and sudden devotion to the king. + +Rainy dawn and the tongues of the churches ushered in the last day of +street fighting. Ammiani found Romara and Colonel Corte at the head of +strong bodies of volunteers, well-armed, ready to march for the Porta +'rosa. All three went straight to the house where the Provisional +Government sat, and sword in hand denounced Count Medole as a traitor who +sold his country to the king. Corte dragged him to the window to hear +the shouts for the Republic. Medole wrote their names down one by one, +and said, "Shall I leave the date vacant?" They put themselves at the +head of their men, and marched in the ringing of the bells. The bells +were their sacro-military music. Barto Rizzo was off to make a spring at +the Porta Ticinese. Students, peasants, noble youths of the best blood, +old men and young women, stood ranged in the drenching rain, eager to +face death for freedom. At mid-day the bells were answered by cannon and +the blunt snap of musketry volleys; dull, savage responses, as of a +wounded great beast giving short howls and snarls by the interminable +over-roaring of a cataract. Messengers from the gates came running to +the quiet centre of the city, where cool men discoursed and plotted. +Great news, big lies, were shouted:--Carlo Alberto thundered in the +plains; the Austrians were everywhere retiring; the Marshal was a +prisoner; the flag of surrender was on the citadel! These things were +for the ears of thirsty women, diplomatists, and cripples. + +Countess Ammiani and Countess d'Isorella sat together throughout the +agitation of the day. + +The life prayed for by one seemed a wisp of straw flung on this humming +furnace. + +Countess Ammiani was too well used to defeat to believe readily in +victory, and had shrouded her head in resignation too long to hope for +what she craved. Her hands were joined softly in her lap. Her visage +had the same unmoved expression when she conversed with Violetta as when +she listened to the ravings of the Corso. + +Darkness came, and the bells ceased not rolling by her open windows: the +clouds were like mists of conflagration. + +She would not have the windows closed. The noise of the city had become +familiar and akin to the image of her boy. She sat there cloaked. + +Her heart went like a time-piece to the two interrogations to heaven: +"Alive?--or dead?" + +The voice of Luciano Romara was that of an angel's answering. He entered +the room neat and trim as a cavalier dressed for social evening duty, +saying with his fine tact, "We are all well;" and after talking like a +gazette of the Porta Tosa taken by the volunteers, Barto Rizzo's +occupation of the gate opening on the Ticino, and the bursting of the +Porta Camosina by the freebands of the plains, he handed a letter to +Countess Ammiani. + +"Carlo is on the march to Bergamo and Brescia, with Corte, Sana, and +about fifty of our men," he said. + +"And is wounded--where?" asked Violetta. + +"Slightly in the hand--you see, he can march," Romara said, laughing at +her promptness to suspect a subterfuge, until he thought, "Now, what does +this mean, madam?" + +A lamp was brought to Countess Ammiani. She read: + + "MY MOTHER! + + "Cotton-wool on the left fore-finger. They deigned to give me no + other memorial of my first fight. I am not worthy of papa's two + bullets. I march with Corte and Sana to Brescia. We keep the + passes of the Tyrol. Luciano heads five hundred up to the hills + to-morrow or next day. He must have all our money. Then go from + door to door and beg subscriptions. Yes, my Chief! it is to be + like God, and deserving of his gifts to lay down all pride, all + wealth. This night send to my betrothed in Turin. She must be with + no one but my mother. It is my command. Tell her so. I hold + imperatively to it. + + "I breathe the best air of life. Luciano is a fine leader in + action, calm as in a ball-room. What did I feel? I will talk of it + with you by-and-by;--my father whispered in my ears; I felt him at + my right hand. He said, 'I died for this day.' I feel now that I + must have seen him. This is imagination. We may say that anything + is imagination. I certainly heard his voice. Be of good heart, my + mother, for I can swear that the General wakes up when I strike + Austrian steel. He loved Brescia; so I go there. God preserve my + mother! The eyes of heaven are wide enough to see us both. + Vittoria by your side, remember! It is my will. + + "CARLO." + +Countess Ammiani closed her eyes over the letter, as in a dead sleep. +"He is more his father than himself, and so suddenly!" she said. She was +tearless. Violetta helped her to her bed-room under the pretext of a +desire to hear the contents of the letter. + +That night, which ended the five days of battle in Milan, while fires +were raging at many gates, bells were rolling over the roof-tops, the +army of Austria coiled along the North-eastern walls of the city, through +rain and thick obscurity, and wove its way like a vast worm into the +outer land. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR + +VITTORIA DISOBEYS HER LOVER + +Countess d'Isorella's peculiar mission to Milan was over with the victory +of the city. She undertook personally to deliver Carlo's injunction to +Vittoria on her way to the king. Countess Ammiani deemed it sufficient +that her son's wishes should be repeated verbally; and as there appeared +to be no better messenger than one who was bound for Turin and knew +Vittoria's place of residence, she entrusted the duty to Violetta. + +The much which hangs on little was then set in motion: + +Violetta was crossing the Ticino when she met a Milanese nobleman who had +received cold greeting from the king, and was returning to Milan with +word that the Piedmontese declaration of war against Austria had been +signed. She went back to Milan, saw and heard, and gathered a burden for +the royal ears. This was a woman, tender only to the recollection of +past days, who used her beauty and her arts as weapons for influence. +She liked kings because she saw neither master nor dupe in a republic; +she liked her early lover because she could see nothing but a victim in +any new one. She was fond of Carlo, as greatly occupied minds may be +attached to an old garden where they have aforetime sown fair seed. +Jealousy of a rival in love that was disconnected with political business +and her large expenditure, had never yet disturbed the lady's nerves. + +At Turin she found Vittoria singing at the opera, and winning marked +applause from the royal box. She thought sincerely that to tear a prima +donna from her glory would be very much like dismissing a successful +General to his home and gabbling family. A most eminent personage agreed +with her. Vittoria was carelessly informed that Count Ammiani had gone +to Brescia, and having regard for her safety, desired her to go to Milan +to be under the protection of his mother, and that Countess Ammiani was +willing to receive her. + +Now, with her mother, and her maid Giacinta, and Beppo gathered about +her, for three weeks Vittoria had been in full operatic career, working, +winning fame, believing that she was winning influence, and establishing +a treasury. The presence of her lover in Milan would have called her to +the noble city; but he being at Brescia, she asked herself why she should +abstain from labours which contributed materially to the strength of the +revolution and made her helpful. It was doubtful whether Countess +Ammiani would permit her to sing at La Scala; or whether the city could +support an opera in the throes of war. And Vittoria was sending money to +Milan. The stipend paid to her by the impresario, the jewels, the big +bouquets--all flowed into the treasury of the insurrection. Antonio- +Pericles advanced her a large sum on the day when the news of the +Milanese uprising reached Turin: the conditions of the loan had simply +been that she should continue her engagement to sing in Turin. He was +perfectly slavish to her, and might be trusted to advance more. Since +the great night at La Scala, she had been often depressed by a secret +feeling that there was divorce between her love of her country and +devotion to her Art. Now that both passions were in union, both active, +each aiding the fire of the other, she lived a consummate life. She +could not have abandoned her path instantly though Carlo had spoken his +command to her in person. Such were her first spontaneous seasonings, +and Laura Piaveni seconded them; saying, "Money, money! we must be Jews +for money. We women are not allowed to fight, but we can manage to +contribute our lire and soldi; we can forge the sinews of war." + +Vittoria wrote respectfully to Countess Ammiani stating why she declined +to leave Turin. The letter was poorly worded. While writing it she had +been taken by a sentiment of guilt and of isolation in presuming to +disobey her lover. "I am glad he will not see it," she remarked to +Laura, who looked rapidly across the lines, and said nothing. Praise of +the king was in the last sentence. Laura's eyes lingered on it half-a- +minute. + +"Has he not drawn his sword? He is going to march," said Vittoria. + +"Oh, yes," Laura replied coolly; "but you put that to please Countess +Ammiani." + +Vittoria confessed she had not written it purposely to defend the king. +"What harm?" she asked. + +"None. Only this playing with shades allows men to call us hypocrites." + +The observation angered Vittoria. She had seen the king of late; she had +breathed Turin incense and its atmosphere; much that could be pleaded on +the king's behalf she had listened to with the sympathetic pity which can +be woman's best judgement, and is the sentiment of reason. She had also +brooded over the king's character, and had thought that if the Chief +could have her opportunities for studying this little impressible, yet +strangely impulsive royal nature, his severe condemnation of him would be +tempered. In fact, she was doing what makes a woman excessively tender +and opinionated; she was petting her idea of the misunderstood one: she +was thinking that she divined the king's character by mystical intuition; +I will dare to say, maternally apprehended it. And it was a character +strangely open to feminine perceptions, while to masculine comprehension +it remained a dead blank, done either in black or in white. + +Vittoria insisted on praising the king to Laura. + +"With all my heart," Laura said, "so long as he is true to Italy." + +"How, then, am I hypocritical?" + +"My Sandra, you are certainly perverse. You admitted that you did +something for the sake of pleasing Countess Ammiani." + +"I did. But to be hypocritical one must be false." + +"Oh!" went Laura. + +"And I write to Carlo. He does not care for the king; therefore it is +needless for me to name the king to him; and I shall not." + +Laura said, "Very well." She saw a little deeper than the perversity, +though she did not see the springs. In Vittoria's letter to her lover, +she made no allusion to the Sword of Italy. + +Countess Ammiani forwarded both letters on to Brescia. + +When Carlo had finished reading them, he heard all Brescia clamouring +indignantly at the king for having disarmed volunteers on Lago Maggiore +and elsewhere in his dominions. Milan was sending word by every post of +the overbearing arrogance of the Piedmontese officers and officials, who +claimed a prostrate submission from a city fresh with the ardour of the +glory it had won for itself, and that would fain have welcomed them as +brothers. Romara and others wrote of downright visible betrayal. It was +a time of passions;--great readiness for generosity, equal promptitude +for undiscriminating hatred. Carlo read Vittoria's praise of the king +with insufferable anguish. "You--you part of me, can write like this!" +he struck the paper vehemently. The fury of action transformed the +gentle youth. Countess Ammiani would not have forwarded the letter +addressed to herself had she dreamed the mischief it might do. Carlo +saw double-dealing in the absence of any mention of the king in his own +letter. + + "Quit Turin at once," he dashed hasty lines to Vittoria; "and no + 'Viva il Re' till we know what he may merit. Old delusions are + pardonable; but you must now look abroad with your eyes. Your words + should be the echoes of my soul. Your acts are mine. For the sake + of the country, do nothing to fill me with shame. The king is a + traitor. I remember things said of him by Agostino; I subscribe to + them every one. Were you like any other Italian girl, you might cry + for him--who would care! But you are Vittoria. Fly to my mother's + arms, and there rest. The king betrays us. Is a stronger word + necessary? I am writing too harshly to you;--and here are the lines + of your beloved letter throbbing round me while I write; but till + the last shot is fired I try to be iron, and would hold your hand + and not kiss it--not be mad to fall between your arms--not wish for + you--not think of you as a woman, as my beloved, as my Vittoria; I + hope and pray not, if I thought there was an ace of work left to do + for the country. Or if one could say that you cherished a shred of + loyalty for him who betrays it. Great heaven! am I to imagine that + royal flatteries----- My hand is not my own! You shall see all that + it writes. I will seem to you no better than I am. I do not tell + you to be a Republican, but an Italian. If I had room for myself in + my prayers--oh! one half-instant to look on you, though with chains + on my limbs. The sky and the solid ground break up when I think of + you. I fancy I am still in prison. Angelo was music to me for two + whole days (without a morning to the first and a night to the + second). He will be here to-morrow and talk of you again. I long + for him more than for battle--almost long for you more than for + victory for our Italy. + + "This is Brescia, which my father said he loved better than his + wife. + + "General Paolo Ammiani is buried here. I was at his tombstone this + morning. I wish you had known him. + + "You remember, we talked of his fencing with me daily. 'I love the + fathers who do that.' You said it. He will love you. Death is the + shadow--not life. I went to his tomb. It was more to think of + Brescia than of him. Ashes are only ashes; tombs are poor places. + My soul is the power. + + "If I saw the Monte Viso this morning, I saw right over your head + when you were sleeping. + + "Farewell to journalism--I hope, for ever. I jump at shaking off + the journalistic phraseology Agostino laughs at. Yet I was right in + printing my 'young nonsense.' I did, hold the truth, and that was + felt, though my vehicle for delivering it was rubbish. + + "In two days Corte promises to sing his song, 'Avanti.' I am at his + left hand. Venice, the passes of the Adige, the Adda, the Oglio are + ours. The room is locked; we have only to exterminate the reptiles + inside it. Romara, D'Arci, Carnischi march to hold the doors. + Corte will push lower; and if I can get him to enter the plains and + join the main army I shall rejoice." + +The letter concluded with a postscript that half an Italian regiment, +with white coats swinging on their bayonet-points, had just come in. + +It reached Vittoria at a critical moment. + +Two days previously, she and Laura Piaveni had talked with the king. +It was an unexpected honour. Countess, d'Isorella conducted them to the +palace. The lean-headed sovereign sat booted and spurred, his sword +across his knees; he spoke with a peculiar sad hopefulness of the +prospects of the campaign, making it clear that he was risking more than +anyone risked, for his stake was a crown. The few words he uttered of +Italy had a golden ring in them; Vittoria knew not why they had it. He +condemned the Republican spirit of Milan more regretfully than severely. +The Republicans were, he said, impracticable. Beyond the desire for +change, they knew not what they wanted. He did not state that he should +avoid Milan in his march. On the contrary, he seemed to indicate that he +was about to present himself to the people of Milan. "To act against the +enemy successfully, we must act as one, under one head, with one aim." +He said this, adding that no heart in Italy had yearned more than his own +for the signal to march for the Mincio and the Adige. + +Vittoria determined to put him to one test. She summoned her boldness to +crave grace for Agostino Balderini to return to Piedmont. The petition +was immediately granted. Alluding to the libretto of Camilla, the king +complimented Vittoria for her high courage on the night of the Fifteenth +of the foregoing year. "We in Turin were prepared, though we had only +then the pleasure of hearing of you," he said. + +"I strove to do my best to help. I wish to serve our cause now," she +replied, feeling an inexplicable new sweetness running in her blood. + +He asked her if she did not know that she had the power to move +multitudes. + +"Sire, singing appears so poor a thing in time of war." + +He remarked that wine was good for soldiers, singing better, such a voice +as hers best of all. + +For hours after the interview, Vittoria struggled with her deep blushes. +She heard the drums of the regiments, the clatter of horses, the bugle- +call of assembly, as so many confirmatory notes that it was a royal hero +who was going forth. + +"He stakes a crown," she said to Laura. + +"Tusk! it tumbles off his head if he refuses to venture something," was +Laura's response. + +Vittoria reproached her for injustice. + +"No," Laura said; "he is like a young man for whom his mother has made a +match. And he would be very much in love with his bride if he were quite +certain of winning her, or rather, if she would come a little more than +halfway to meet him. Some young men are so composed. Genoa and Turin +say, 'Go and try.' Milan and Venice say, 'Come and have faith in us.' My +opinion is that he is quite as much propelled as attracted." + +"This is shameful," said Vittoria. + +"No; for I am quite willing to suspend my judgement. I pray that fortune +may bless his arms. I do think that the stir of a campaign, and a +certain amount of success will make him in earnest." + +"Can you look on his face and not see pure enthusiasm?" + +"I see every feminine quality in it, my dear." + +"What can it be that he is wanting in?" + +"Masculine ambition." + +"I am not defending him," said Vittoria hastily. + +"Not at all; and I am not attacking him. I can excuse his dread of +Republicanism. I can fancy that there is reason for him just now to fear +Republicanism worse than Austria. Paris and Milan are two grisly +phantoms before him. These red spectres are born of earthquake, and are +more given to shaking thrones than are hostile cannonshot. Earthquakes +are dreadfuller than common maladies to all of us. Fortune may help him, +but he has not the look of one who commands her. The face is not +aquiline. There's a light over him like the ray of a sickly star." + +"For that reason!" Vittoria burst out. + +"Oh, for that reason we pity men, assuredly, my Sandra, but not kings. +Luckless kings are not generous men, and ungenerous men are mischievous +kings." + +"But if you find him chivalrous and devoted; if he proves his noble +intentions, why not support him?" + +"Dandle a puppet, by all means," said Laura. + +Her intellect, not her heart, was harsh to the king; and her heart was +not mistress of her intellect in this respect, because she beheld riding +forth at the head of Italy one whose spirit was too much after the +pattern of her supple, springing, cowering, impressionable sex, +alternately ardent and abject, chivalrous and treacherous, and not to be +confided in firmly when standing at the head of a great cause. + +Aware that she was reading him very strictly by the letters of his past +deeds, which were not plain history to Vittoria, she declared that she +did not countenance suspicion in dealing with the king, and that it would +be a delight to her to hear of his gallant bearing on the battle-field. +"Or to witness it, my Sandra, if that were possible;--we two! For, +should he prove to be no General, he has the courage of his family." + +Vittoria took fire at this. "What hinders our following the army?" + +"The less baggage the better, my dear." + +"But the king said that my singing--I have no right to think it myself." +Vittoria concluded her sentence with a comical intention of humility. + +"It was a pretty compliment," said Laura. "You replied that singing is a +poor thing in time of war, and I agree with you. We might serve as +hospital nurses." + +"Why do we not determine?" + +"We are only considering possibilities." + +"Consider the impossibility of our remaining quiet." + +"Fire that goes to flame is a waste of heat, my Sandra." + +The signora, however, was not so discreet as her speech. On all sides +there was uproar and movement. High-born Italian ladies were offering +their hands for any serviceable work. Laura and Vittoria were not alone +in the desire which was growing to be resolution to share the hardships +of the soldiers, to cherish and encourage them, and by seeing, to have +the supreme joy of feeling the blows struck at the common enemy. + +The opera closed when the king marched. Carlo Ammiani's letter was +handed to Vittoria at the fall of the curtain on the last night. + +Three paths were open to her: either that she should obey her lover, +or earn an immense sum of money from Antonio-Pericles by accepting an +immediate engagement in London, or go to the war. To sit in submissive +obedience seemed unreasonable; to fly from Italy impossible. Yet the +latter alternative appealed strongly to her sense of duty, and as it +thereby threw her lover's commands into the background, she left it to +her heart to struggle with Carlo, and thought over the two final +propositions. The idea of being apart from Italy while the living +country streamed forth to battle struck her inflamed spirit like the +shock of a pause in martial music. Laura pretended to take no part +in Vittoria's decision, but when it was reached, she showed her a +travelling-carriage stocked with lint and linen, wine in jars, chocolate, +cases of brandy, tea, coffee, needles, thread, twine, scissors, knives; +saying, as she displayed them, "there, my dear, all my money has gone in +that equipment, so you must pay on the road." + +"This doesn't leave me a choice, then," said Victoria, joining her +humour. + +"Ah, but think over it," Laura suggested. + +"No! not think at all," cried Vittoria. + +"You do not fear Carlo's anger?" + +"If I think, I am weak as water. Let us go." + +Countess d'Isorella wrote to Carlo: "Your Vittoria is away after the king +to Pavia. They tell me she stood up in her carriage on the Ponte del Po +-'Viva il Re d'Italia!' waving the cross of Savoy. As I have previously +assured you, no woman is Republican. The demonstration was a mistake. +Public characters should not let their personal preferences betrumpeted: +a diplomatic truism:--but I must add, least of all a cantatrice for a +king. The famous Greek amateur--the prop of failing finances--is after +her to arrest her for breach of engagement. You wished to discover an +independent mind in a woman, my Carlo; did you not? One would suppose +her your wife--or widow. She looked a superb thing the last night she +sang. She is not, in my opinion, wanting in height. If, behind all that +innocence and candour, she has any trained artfulness, she will beat us +all. Heaven bless your arms!" + +The demonstration mentioned by the countess had not occurred. + +Vittoria's letter to her lover missed him. She wrote from Pavia, after +she had taken her decisive step. + +Carlo Ammiani went into the business of the war with the belief that his +betrothed had despised his prayer to her. + +He was under Colonel Corte, operating on the sub-Alpine range of hills +along the line of the Chiese South-eastward. Here the volunteers, formed +of the best blood of Milan, the gay and brave young men, after marching +in the pride of their strength to hold the Alpine passes and bar Austria +from Italy while the fight went on below, were struck by a sudden +paralysis. They hung aloft there like an arm cleft from the body. +Weapons, clothes, provisions, money, the implements of war, were +withheld from them. The Piedmontese officers despatched to watch their +proceedings laughed at them like exasperating senior scholars examining +the accomplishments of a lower form. It was manifest that Count Medole +and the Government of Milan worked everywhere to conquer the people for +the king before the king had done a stroke to conquer the Austrians for +the people; while, in order to reduce them to the condition of +Piedmontese soldiery, the flame of their patriotic enthusiasm was +systematically damped, and instead of apprentices in war, who possessed +at any rate the elementary stuff of soldiers, miserable dummies were +drafted into the royal service. The Tuscans and the Romans had good +reason to complain on behalf of their princes, as had the Venetians and +the Lombards for the cause of their Republic. Neither Tuscans, Romans, +Venetians, nor Lombards were offering up their lives simply to obtain a +change of rulers; though all Italy was ready to bow in allegiance to a +king of proved kingly quality. Early in the campaign the cry of treason +was muttered, and on all sides such became the temper of the Alpine +volunteers, that Angelo and Rinaldo Guidascarpi were forced to join their +cousin under Corte, by the dispersion of their band, amounting to +something more than eighteen hundred fighting lads, whom a Piedmontese +superior officer summoned peremptorily to shout for the king. They +thundered as one voice for the Italian Republic, and instantly broke up +and disbanded. This was the folly of the young: Carlo Ammiani confessed +that it was no better; but he knew that a breath of generous confidence +from the self-appointed champion of the national cause would have subdued +his impatience at royalty and given heart and cheer to his sickening +comrades. He began to frown angrily when he thought of Vittoria. "Where +is she now?--where now?" he asked himself in the season of his most +violent wrath at the king. Her conduct grew inseparable in his mind from +the king's deeds. The sufferings, the fierce irony, the very deaths of +the men surrounding him in aims, rose up in accusation against the woman +he loved. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR + +THE TREACHERY OF PERICLES--THE WHITE UMBRELLA--THE DEATH OF RINALDO +GUIDASCARPI + +The king crossed the Mincio. The Marshal, threatened on his left flank, +drew in his line from the farther Veronese heights upon a narrowed battle +front before Verona. Here they manoeuvred, and the opening successes +fell to the king. Holding Peschiera begirt, with one sharp passage of +arms he cleared the right bank of the Adige and stood on the semicircle +of hills, master of the main artery into Tyrol. + +The village of Pastrengo has given its name to the day. It was a day of +intense heat coming after heavy rains. The arid soil steamed; the white +powder-smoke curled in long horizontal columns across the hazy ring of +the fight. Seen from a distance it was like a huge downy ball, kicked +this way and that between the cypresses by invisible giants. A pair of +eager-eyed women gazing on a battle-field for the first time could but +ask themselves in bewilderment whether the fate of countries were verily +settled in such a fashion. Far in the rear, Vittoria and Laura heard the +cannon-shots; a sullen dull sound, as of a mallet striking upon rotten +timber. They drove at speed. The great thumps became varied by musketry +volleys, that were like blocks of rockboulder tumbled in the roll of a +mountain torrent. These, then, were the voices of Italy and Austria +speaking the devilish tongue of the final alternative. Cannon, rockets, +musketry, and now the run of drums, now the ring of bugles, now the tramp +of horses, and the field was like a landslip. A joyful bright black +death-wine seemed to pour from the bugles all about. The women strained +their senses to hear and see; they could realize nothing of a reality so +absolute; their feelings were shattered, and crowded over them in +patches;--horror, glory, panic, hope, shifted lights within their bosoms. +The fascination and repulsion of the image of Force divided them. They +feared; they were prostrate; they sprang in praise. The image of Force +was god and devil to their souls. They strove to understand why the +field was marked with blocks of men who made a plume of vapour here, and +hurried thither. The action of their intellects resolved to a blank +marvel at seeing an imminent thing--an interrogation to almighty heaven +treated with method, not with fury streaming forward. Cleave the +opposing ranks! Cry to God for fire? Cut them through! They had come +to see the Song of Deborah performed before their eyes, and they +witnessed only a battle. Blocks of infantry gathered densely, thinned to +a line, wheeled in column, marched: blocks of cavalry changed posts: +artillery bellowed from one spot and quickly selected another. Infantry +advanced in the wake of tiny smokepuffs, halted, advanced again, rattled +files of shots, became struck into knots, faced half about as from a blow +of the back of a hand, retired orderly. Cavalry curved like a flickering +scimetar in their rear; artillery plodded to its further station. +Innumerable tiny smoke-puffs then preceded a fresh advance of infantry. +The enemy were on the hills and looked mightier, for they were revealed +among red flashes of their guns, and stood partly visible above clouds of +hostile smoke and through clouds of their own, which grasped viscously by +the skirts of the hills. Yet it seemed a strife of insects, until, one +by one, soldiers who had gone into yonder white pit for the bloody kiss +of death, and had got it on their faces, were borne by Vittoria and Laura +knelt in this horrid stream of mortal anguish to give succour from their +stores in the carriage. Their natural emotions were distraught. They +welcomed the sight of suffering thankfully, for the poor blotted faces +were so glad at sight of them. Torture was their key to the reading of +the battle. They gazed on the field no longer, but let the roaring wave +of combat wash up to them what it would. + +The hill behind Pastrengo was twice stormed. When the bluecoats first +fell back, a fine charge of Piedmontese horse cleared the slopes for a +second effort, and they went up and on, driving the enemy from hill to +hill. The Adige was crossed by the Austrians under cover of Tyrolese +rifleshots. + +Then, with Beppo at their heels, bearing water, wine, and brandy, the +women walked in the paths of carnage, and saw the many faces of death. +Laura whispered strangely, "How light-hearted they look!" The wounded +called their comforters sweet names. Some smoked and some sang, some +groaned; all were quick to drink. Their jokes at the dead were +universal. They twisted their bodies painfully to stick a cigar between +dead lips, and besprinkle them with the last drops of liquor in their +cups, laughing a benediction. These scenes put grievous chains on +Vittoria's spirit, but Laura evidently was not the heavier for them. +Glorious Verona shone under the sunset as their own to come; Peschiera, +on the blue lake, was in the hollow of their hands. "Prizes worth any +quantity of blood," said Laura. Vittoria confessed that she had seen +enough of blood, and her aspect provoked Laura to utter, "For God's sake, +think of something miserable;--cry, if you can!" + +Vittoria's underlip dropped sickly with the question, "Why?" + +Laura stated the physical necessity with Italian naivete. + +"If I can," said Vittoria, and blinked to get a tear; but laughter helped +as well to relieve her, and it came on their return to the carriage. +They found the spy Luigi sitting beside the driver. He informed them +that Antonio-Pericles had been in the track of the army ever since their +flight from Turin; daily hurrying off with whip of horses at the sound of +cannon-shot, and gradually stealing back to the extreme rear. This day +he had flown from Oliosi to Cavriani, and was, perhaps, retracing his way +already as before, on fearful toe-tips. Luigi acted the caution of one +who stepped blindfolded across hot iron plates. Vittoria, without a +spark of interest, asked why the Signor Antonio should be following the +army. + +"Why, it's to find you, signorina." + +Luigi's comical emphasis conjured up in a jumbled picture the devotion, +the fury, the zeal, the terror of Antonio-Pericles--a mixture of +demoniacal energy and ludicrous trepidation. She imagined his long +figure, fantastical as a shadow, off at huge strides, and back, with eyes +sliding swiftly to the temples, and his odd serpent's head raised to peer +across the plains and occasionally to exclaim to the reasonable heavens +in anger at men and loathing of her. She laughed ungovernably. Luigi +exclaimed that, albeit in disgrace with the signor Antonio, he had been +sent for to serve him afresh, and had now been sent forward to entreat +the gracious signorina to grant her sincerest friend and adorer an +interview. She laughed at Pericles, but in truth she almost loved the +man for his worship of her Art, and representation of her dear peaceful +practice of it. + +The interview between them took place at Oliosi. There, also, she met +Georgiana Ford, the half-sister of Merthyr Powys, who told her that +Merthyr and Augustus Gambier were in the ranks of a volunteer contingent +in the king's army, and might have been present at Pastrengo. Georgiana +held aloof from battle-fields, her business being simply to serve as +Merthyr's nurse in case of wounds, or to see the last of him in case of +death. She appeared to have no enthusiasm. She seconded strongly the +vehement persuasions addressed by Pericles to Vittoria. Her disapproval +of the presence of her sex on fields of battle was precise. Pericles had +followed the army to give Vittoria one last chance, he said, and drag her +away from this sick country, as he called it, pointing at the dusty land +from the windows of the inn. On first seeing her he gasped like one who +has recovered a lost thing. To Laura he was a fool; but Vittoria enjoyed +his wildest outbursts, and her half-sincere humility encouraged him to +think that he had captured her at last. He enlarged on the perils +surrounding her voice in dusty bellowing Lombardy, and on the ardour of +his friendship in exposing himself to perils as tremendous, that he might +rescue her. While speaking he pricked a lively ear for the noise of +guns, hearing a gun in everything, and jumping to the window with horrid +imprecations. His carriage was horsed at the doors below. Let the +horses die, he said, let the coachman have sun-stroke. Let hundreds +perish, if Vittoria would only start in an hour-in two--to-night--to- +morrow. + +"Because, do you see,"--he turned to Laura and Georgiana, submitting to +the vexatious necessity of seeming reasonable to these creatures,--"she +is a casket for one pearl. It is only one, but it is ONE, mon Dieu! and +inscrutable heaven, mesdames, has made the holder of it mad. Her voice +has but a sole skin; it is not like a body; it bleeds to death at a +scratch. A spot on the pearl, and it is perished--pfoof! Ah, cruel +thing! impious, I say. I have watched, I have reared her. Speak to me +of mothers! I have cherished her for her splendid destiny--to see it go +down, heels up, among quarrels of boobies! Yes; we have war in Italy. +Fight! Fight in this beautiful climate that you may be dominated by a +blue coat, not by a white coat. We are an intelligent race; we are a +civilized people; we will fight for that. What has a voice of the very +heavens to do with your fighting? I heard it first in England, in a +firwood, in a month of Spring, at night-time, fifteen miles and a quarter +from the city of London--oh, city of peace! Sandra you will come there. +I give you thousands additional to the sum stipulated. You have no +rival. Sandra Belloni! no rival, I say"--he invoked her in English, +"and you hear--you, to be a draggle-tail vivandiere wiz a brandy-bottle +at your hips and a reputation going like ze brandy. Ah! pardon, +mesdames; but did mankind ever see a frenzy like this girl's? Speak, +Sandra. I could cry it like Michiella to Camilla--Speak!" + +Vittoria compelled him to despatch his horses to stables. He had relays +of horses at war-prices between Castiglione and Pavia, and a retinue of +servants; nor did he hesitate to inform the ladies that, before +entrusting his person to the hazards of war, he had taken care to be +provided with safe-conduct passes for both armies, as befitted a prudent +man of peace--"or sense; it is one, mesdames." + +Notwithstanding his terror at the guns, and disgust at the soldiery and +the bad fare at the inn, Vittoria's presence kept him lingering in this +wretched place, though he cried continually, "I shall have heart- +disease." He believed at first that he should subdue her; then it became +his intention to carry her off. + +It was to see Merthyr that she remained. Merthyr came there the day +after the engagement at Santa Lucia. They had not met since the days at +Meran. He was bronzed, and keen with strife, and looked young, but spoke +not over-hopefully. He scolded her for wishing to taste battle, and +compared her to a bad swimmer on deep shores. Pericles bounded with +delight to hear him, and said he had not supposed there was so much sense +in Powys. Merthyr confessed that the Austrians had as good as beaten +them at Santa Lucia. The tactical combinations of the Piedmontese were +wretched. He was enamoured of the gallantly of the Duke of Savoy, who +had saved the right wing of the army from rout while covering the +backward movement. Why there had been any fight at all at Santa Lucia, +where nothing was to be gained, much to be lost, he was incapable of +telling; but attributed it to an antique chivalry on the part of the +king, that had prompted the hero to a trial of strength, a bout of blood- +letting. + +"You do think he is a hero?" said Vittoria. + +"He is; and he will march to Venice." + +"And open the opera at Venice," Pericles sneered. "Powys, mon cher, cure +her of this beastly dream. It is a scandal to you to want a woman's +help. You were defeated at Santa Lucia. I say bravo to anything that +brings you to reason. Bravo! You hear me." + +The engagement at Santa Lucia was designed by the king to serve as an +instigating signal for the Veronese to rise in revolt; and this was the +secret of Charles Albert's stultifying manoeuvres between Peschiera and +Mantua. Instead of matching his military skill against the wary old +Marshal's, he was offering incentives to conspiracy. Distrusting the +revolution, which was a force behind him, he placed such reliance on its +efforts in his front as to make it the pivot of his actions. + +"The volunteers North-east of Vicenza are doing the real work for us, I +believe," said Merthyr; and it seemed so then, as it might have been +indeed, had they not been left almost entirely to themselves to do it. + +These tidings of a fight lost set Laura and Vittoria quivering with +nervous irritation. They had been on the field of Pastrengo, and it was +won. They had been absent from Santa Lucia. What was the deduction? +Not such as reason would have made for them; but they were at the mercy +of the currents of the blood. "Let us go on," said Laura. Merthyr +refused to convoy them. Pericles drove with him an hour on the road, and +returned in glee, to find Vittoria and Laura seated in their carriage, +and Luigi scuffling with Beppo. + +"Padrone, see how I assist you," cried Luigi. + +Upon this Beppo instantly made a swan's neck of his body and trumpeted: +"A sally from the fortress for forage." + +"Whip! whip!" Pericles shouted to his coachman, and the two carriages +parted company at the top of their speed. + +Pericles fell a victim to a regiment of bersaglieri that wanted horses, +and unceremoniously stopped his pair and took possession of them on the +route for Peschiera. He was left in a stranded carriage between a dusty +ditch and a mulberry bough. Vittoria and Laura were not much luckier. +They were met by a band of deserters, who made no claim upon the horses, +but stood for drink, and having therewith fortified their fine opinion of +themselves, petitioned for money. A kiss was their next demand. Money +and good humour saved the women from indignity. The band of rascals went +off with a 'Viva l'Italia.' Such scum is upon every popular rising, as +Vittoria had to learn. Days of rain and an incomprehensible inactivity +of the royal army kept her at a miserable inn, where the walls were bare, +the cock had crowed his last. The guns of Peschiera seemed to roam over +the plain like an echo unwillingly aroused that seeks a hollow for its +further sleep. Laura sat pondering for hours, harsh in manner, as if she +hated her. "I think," she said once, "that women are those persons who +have done evil in another world: "The "why?" from Vittoria was uttered +simply to awaken friendly talk, but Laura relapsed into her gloom. A +village priest, a sleek gentle creature, who shook his head to earth when +he hoped, and filled his nostrils with snuff when he desponded, gave them +occasional companionship under the title of consolation. He wished the +Austrians to be beaten, remarking, however, that they were good +Catholics, most fervent Catholics. As the Lord decided, so it would end! +"Oh, delicious creed!" Laura broke out: "Oh, dear and sweet doctrine! +that results and developments in a world where there is more evil than +good are approved by heaven." She twisted the mild man in supple steel +of her irony so tenderly that Vittoria marvelled to hear her speak of him +in abhorrence when they quitted the village. "Not to be born a woman, +and voluntarily to be a woman!" ejaculated Laura. "How many, how many +are we to deduct from the male population of Italy? Cross in hand, he +should be at the head of our arms, not whimpering in a corner for white +bread. Wretch! he makes the marrow in my bones rage at him. He +chronicled pig that squeaked." + +"Why had she been so gentle with him?" + +"Because, my dear, when I loathe a thing I never care to exhaust my +detestation before I can strike it," said the true Italian. + +They were on the field of Goito; it was won. It was won against odds. +At Pastrengo they witnessed an encounter; this was a battle. Vittoria +perceived that there was the difference between a symphony and a lyric +song. The blessedness of the sensation that death can be light and easy +dispossessed her of the meaner compassion, half made up of cowardice, +which she had been nearly borne down by on the field of Pastrengo. At an +angle on a height off the left wing of the royal army the face of the +battle was plain to her: the movements of the troops were clear as +strokes on a slate. Laura flung her life into her eyes, and knelt and +watched, without summing one sole thing from what her senses received. + +Vittoria said, "We are too far away to understand it." + +"No," said Laura, "we are too far away to feel it." + +The savage soul of the woman was robbed of its share of tragic emotion by +having to hold so far aloof. Flashes of guns were but flashes of guns up +there where she knelt. She thirsted to read the things written by them; +thirsted for their mystic terrors, somewhat as souls of great prophets +have craved for the full revelation of those fitful underlights which +inspired their mouths. + +Charles Albert's star was at its highest when the Piedmontese drums beat +for an advance of the whole line at Goito. + +Laura stood up, white as furnace-fire. "Women can do some good by +praying," she said. She believed that she had been praying. That was +her part in the victory. + +Rain fell as from the forehead of thunder. From black eve to black dawn +the women were among dead and dying men, where the lanterns trailed a +slow flame across faces that took the light and let it go. They returned +to their carriage exhausted. The ways were almost impassable for +carriage-wheels. While they were toiling on and exchanging their +drenched clothes, Vittoria heard Merthyr's voice speaking to Beppo on the +box. He was saying that Captain Gambier lay badly wounded; brandy was +wanted for him. She flung a cloak over Laura, and handed out the flask +with a naked arm. It was not till she saw him again that she remembered +or even felt that he had kissed the arm. A spot of sweet fire burned on +it just where the soft fulness of a woman's arm slopes to the bend. He +chid her for being on the field and rejoiced in a breath, for the +carriage and its contents helped to rescue his wounded brother in arms +from probable death. Gambier, wounded in thigh and ankle by rifle-shot, +was placed in the carriage. His clothes were saturated with the soil of +Goito; but wounded and wet, he smiled gaily, and talked sweet boyish +English. Merthyr gave the driver directions to wind along up the Mincio. +"Georgiana will be at the nearest village--she has an instinct for +battle-fields, or keeps spies in her pay," he said. + +"Tell her I am safe. We march to cut them (the enemy) off from Verona, +and I can't leave. The game is in our hands. We shall give you Venice." + +Georgiana was found at the nearest village. Gambier's wounds had been +dressed by an army-surgeon. She looked at the dressing, and said that it +would do for six hours. This singular person had fully qualified herself +to attend on a soldier-brother. She had studied medicine for that +purpose, and she had served as nurse in a London hospital. Her nerves +were completely under control. She could sit in attendance by a sick-bed +for hours, hearing distant cannon, and the brawl of soldiery and +vagabonds in the street, without a change of countenance. Her dress was +plain black from throat to heel, with a skull cap of white, like a +Moravian sister. Vittoria reverenced her; but Georgiana's manner in +return was cold aversion, so much more scornful than disdain that it +offended Laura, who promptly put her finger on the blot in the fair +character with the word 'Jealousy;' but a single word is too broad a mark +to be exactly true. "She is a perfect example of your English," Laura +said. "Brave, good, devoted, admirable--ice at the heart. The judge of +others, of course. I always respected her; I never liked her; and I +should be afraid of a comparison with her. Her management of the +household of this inn is extraordinary." + +Georgiana condescended to advise Vittoria once more not to dangle after +armies. + +"I wish to wait here to assist you in nursing our friend," said Vittoria. + +Georgiana replied that her strength was unlikely to fail. + +After two days of incessant rain, sunshine blazed over 'the watery +Mantuan flats. Laura drove with Beppo to see whether the army was in +motion, for they were distracted by rumours. Vittoria clung to her +wounded friend, whose pleasure was the hearing her speak. She expected +Laura's return by set of sun. After dark a messenger came to her, saying +that the signora had sent a carriage to fetch her to Valeggio. Her +immediate supposition was that Merthyr might have fallen. She found +Luigi at the carriage-door, and listened to his mysterious directions and +remarks that not a minute must be lost, without suspicion. He said that +the signora was in great trouble, very anxious to see the signorina +instantly; there was but a distance of five miles to traverse. + +She thought it strange that the carriage should be so luxuriously fitted +with lights and silken pillows, but her ideas were all of Merthyr, until +she by chance discovered a packet marked I chocolate, which told her at +once that she was entrapped by Antonio-Pericles. Luigi would not answer +her cry to him. After some fruitless tremblings of wrath, she lay back +relieved by the feeling that Merthyr was safe, come what might come to +herself. Things could lend to nothing but an altercation with Pericles, +and for this scene she prepared her mind. The carriage stopped while she +was dozing. Too proud to supplicate in the darkness, she left it to the +horses to bear her on, reserving her energies for the morning's +interview, and saying, "The farther he takes me the angrier I shall be." +She dreamed of her anger while asleep, but awakened so frequently during +the night that morning was at her eyelids before they divided. To her +amazement, she saw the carriage surrounded by Austrian troopers. +Pericles was spreading cigars among them, and addressing them affably. +The carriage was on a good road, between irrigated flats, that flashed +a lively green and bright steel blue for miles away. She drew down the +blinds to cry at leisure; her wings were clipped, and she lost heart. +Pericles came round to her when the carriage had drawn up at an inn. +He was egregiously polite, but modestly kept back any expressions of +triumph. A body of Austrians, cavalry and infantry, were breaking camp. +Pericles accorded her an hour of rest. She perceived that he was +anticipating an outbreak of the anger she had nursed overnight, and +baffled him so far by keeping dumb. Luigi was sent up to her to announce +the expiration of her hour of grace. + +"Ah, Luigi!" she said. "Signorina, only wait, and see how Luigi can +serve two," he whispered, writhing under the reproachfulness of her eyes. +At the carriage-door she asked Pericles whither he was taking her. "Not +to Turin, not to London, Sandra Belloni!" he replied; "not to a place +where you are wet all night long, to wheeze for ever after it. Go in." +She entered the carriage quickly, to escape from staring officers, whose +laughter rang in her ears and humbled her bitterly; she felt herself +bringing dishonour on her lover. The carriage continued in the track of +the Austrians. Pericles was audibly careful to avoid the border +regiments. He showered cigars as he passed; now and then he exhibited a +paper; and on one occasion he brought a General officer to the carriage- +door, opened it and pointed in. A white-helmeted dragoon rode on each +side of the carriage for the remainder of the day. The delight of the +supposition that these Austrians were retreating before the invincible +arms of King Carlo Alberto kept her cheerful; but she heard no guns in +the rear. A blocking of artillery and waggons compelled a halt, and then +Pericles came and faced her. He looked profoundly ashamed of himself, +ready as he was for an animated defence of his proceedings. + +"Where are you taking me, sir?" she said in English. + +"Sandra, will you be a good child? It is anywhere you please, if you +will promise--" + +"I will promise nothing." + +"Zen, I lock you up in Verona." In Verona!" + +"Sandra, will you promise to me?" + +"I will promise nothing." + +"Zen I lock you up in Verona. It is settled. No more of it. I come to +say, we shall not reach a village. I am sorry. We have soldiers for a +guard. You draw out a board and lodge in your carriage as in a bed. +Biscuits, potted meats, prunes, bon-bona, chocolate, wine--you shall find +all at your right hand and your left. I am desolate in offending you. +Sandra, if you will promise--" + +"I will promise--this is what I will promise," said Vittoria. + +Pericles thrust his ear forward, and withdrew it as if it had been +slapped. + +She promised to run from him at the first opportunity, to despise him +ever after, and never to sing again in his hearing. With the darkness +Luigi appeared to light her lamp; he mouthed perpetually, "To-morrow, to- +morrow." The watch-fires of Austrians encamped in the fields encircled +her; and moving up and down, the cigar of Antonio-Pericles was visible. +He had not eaten or drunk, and he was out there sleepless; he walked +conquering his fears in the thick of war troubles: all for her sake. +She watched critically to see whether the cigar-light was puffed in +fretfulness. It burned steadily; and the thought of Pericles supporting +patience quite overcame her. In a fit of humour that was almost tears, +she called to him and begged him to take a place in the carriage and have +food. "If it is your pleasure," he said; and threw off his cloak. The +wine comforted him. Thereupon he commenced a series of strange +gesticulations, and ended by blinking at the window, saying, "No, no; it +is impossible to explain. I have no voice; I am not, gifted. It is," he +tapped at his chest, "it is here. It is, imprisoned in me." + +"What?" said Vittoria, to encourage him. + +"It can never be explained, my child. Am I not respectful to you? Am I +not worshipful to you? But, no! it can never be explained. Some do +call me mad. I know it; I am laughed at. Oh! do I not know zat? +Perfectly well. My ancestors adored Goddesses. I discover ze voice of a +Goddess: I adore it. So you call me mad; it is to me what you call me-- +juste ze same. I am possessed wiz passion for her voice. So it will be +till I go to ashes. It is to me ze one zsing divine in a pig, a porpoise +world. It is to me--I talk! It is unutterable--impossible to tell." + +"But I understand it; I know you must feel it," said Vittoria. + +"But you hate me, Sandra. You hate your Pericles." + +"No, I do not; you are my good friend, my good Pericles." + +"I am your good Pericles? So you obey me?" + +"In what?" + +"You come to London?" + +"I shall not." + +"You come to Turin?" + +"I cannot promise." + +"To Milan?" + +"No; not yet." + +Ungrateful little beast! minx! temptress! You seduce me into your +carriage to feed me, to fill me, for to coax me," cried Pericles. + +"Am I the person to have abuse poured on me?" Vittoria rejoined, and she +frowned. "Might I not have called you a wretched whimsical money- +machine, without the comprehension of a human feeling? You are doing me +a great wrong--to win my submission, as I see, and it half amuses me; but +the pretence of an attempt to carry me off from my friends is an offence +that I should take certain care to punish in another. I do not give you +any promise, because the first promise of all--the promise to keep one-- +is not in my power. Shut your eyes and sleep where you are, and in the +morning think better of your conduct!" + +"Of my conduct, mademoiselle! "Pericles retained this sentence in his +head till the conclusion of her animated speech,--"of my conduct I judge +better zan to accept of such a privilege as you graciously offer to me;" +and he retired with a sour grin, very much subdued by her unexpected +capacity for expression. The bugles of the Austrians were soon ringing. +There was a trifle of a romantic flavour in the notes which Vittoria +tried not to feel; the smart iteration of them all about her rubbed it +off, but she was reduced to repeat them, and take them in various keys. +This was her theme for the day. + +They were in the midst of mulberries, out of sight of the army; green +mulberries, and the green and the bronze young vine-leaf. It was a +delicious day, but she began to fear that she was approaching Verona, and +that Pericles was acting seriously. The bronze young vine-leaf seemed to +her like some warrior's face, as it would look when beaten by weather, +burned by the sun. They came now to inns which had been visited by both +armies. Luigi established communication with the innkeepers before the +latter had stated the names of villages to Pericles, who stood map in +hand, believing himself at last to be no more conscious of his position +than an atom in a whirl of dust. Vittoria still refused to give him any +promise, and finally, on a solitary stretch of the road, he appealed to +her mercy. She was the mistress of the carriage, he said; he had never +meant to imprison her in Verona; his behaviour was simply dictated by his +adoration--alas! This was true or not true, but it was certain that the +ways were confounded to them. Luigi, despatched to reconnoitre from a +neighbouring eminence, reported a Piedmontese encampment far ahead, and a +walking tent that was coming on their route. The walking tent was an +enormous white umbrella. Pericles advanced to meet it; after an +interchange of opening formalities, he turned about and clapped hands. +The umbrella was folded. Vittoria recognized the last man she would then +have thought of meeting; he seemed to have jumped out of an ambush from +Meran in Tyrol:--it was Wilfrid. Their greeting was disturbed by the +rushing up of half-a-dozen troopers. The men claimed him as an Austrian +spy. With difficulty Vittoria obtained leave to drive him on to their +commanding officer. It appeared that the white umbrella was notorious +for having been seen on previous occasions threading the Piedmontese +lines into and out of Peschiera. These very troopers swore to it; but +they could not swear to Wilfrid, and white umbrellas were not absolutely +uncommon. Vittoria declared that Wilfrid was an old English friend; +Pericles vowed that Wilfrid was one of their party. The prisoner was +clearly an Englishman. As it chanced, the officer before whom Wilfrid +was taken had heard Vittoria sing on the great night at La Scala. +"Signorina, your word should pass the Austrian Field-Marshal himself," he +said, and merely requested Wilfrid to state on his word of honour that he +was not in the Austrian service, to which Wilfrid unhesitatingly replied, +"I am not." + +Permission was then accorded to him to proceed in the carriage. + +Vittoria held her hand to Wilfrid. He took the fingers and bowed over +them. + +He was perfectly self-possessed, and cool even under her eyes. Like a +pedlar he carried a pack on his back, which was his life; for his +business was a combination of scout and spy. + +"You have saved me from a ditch to-day," he said; "every fellow has some +sort of love for his life, and I must thank you for the odd luck of your +coming by. I knew you were on this ground somewhere. If the rascals had +searched me, I should not have come off so well. I did not speak falsely +to that officer; I am not in the Austrian service. I am a volunteer spy. +I am an unpaid soldier. I am the dog of the army--fetching and carrying +for a smile and a pat on the head. I am ruined, and I am working my way +up as best I can. My uncle disowns me. It is to General Schoneck that I +owe this chance of re-establishing myself. I followed the army out of +Milan. I was at Melegnano, at Pastrengo, at Santa Lucia. If I get +nothing for it, the Lenkensteins at least shall not say that I abandoned +the flag in adversity. I am bound for Rivoli. The fortress (Peschiera) +has just surrendered. The Marshal is stealing round to make a dash on +Vicenza." So far he spoke like one apart from her, but a flush crossed +his forehead. "I have not followed you. I have obeyed your brief +directions. I saw this carriage yesterday in the ranks of our troops. +I saw Pericles. I guessed who might be inside it. I let it pass me. +Could I do more?" + +"Not if you wanted to punish me," said Vittoria. + +She was afflicted by his refraining from reproaches in his sunken state. + +Their talk bordered the old life which they had known, like a rivulet, +coming to falls where it threatens to be e, torrent and a flood; like +flame bubbling the wax of a seal. She was surprised to find herself +expecting tenderness from him: and, startled by the languor in her veins, +she conceived a contempt for her sex and her own weak nature. To mask +that, an excessive outward coldness was assumed. "You can serve as a +spy, Wilfrid!" + +The answer was ready: "Having twice served as a traitor, I need not be +particular. It is what my uncle and the Lenkensteins call me. I do my +best to work my way up again. Despise me for it, if you please." + +On the contrary, she had never respected him so much. She got herself +into opposition to him by provoking him to speak with pride of his army; +but the opposition was artificial, and she called to Carlo Ammiani in +heart. "I will leave these places, cover up my head, and crouch till the +struggle is decided." + +The difficulty was now to be happily rid of Wilfrid by leaving him in +safety. Piedmontese horse scoured the neighbourhood, and any mischance +that might befall him she traced to her hand. She dreaded at every +instant to hear him speak of his love for her; yet how sweet it would +have been to hear it,--to hear him speak of passionate love; to shape it +in deep music; to hear one crave for what she gave to another! "I am +sinking: I am growing degraded," she thought. But there was no other way +for her to quicken her imagination of her distant and offended lover. +The sights on the plains were strange contrasts to these conflicting +inner emotions: she seemed to be living in two divided worlds. + +Pericles declared anew that she was mistress of the carriage. She issued +orders: "The nearest point to Rivoli, and then to Brescia." + +Pericles broke into shouts. "She has arrived at her reason! Hurrah for +Brescia! I beheld you," he confessed to Wilfrid,--"it was on ze right of +Mincio, my friend. I did not know you were so true for Art, or what a +hand I would have reached to you! Excuse me now. Let us whip on. I am +your banker. I shall desire you not to be shot or sabred. You are +deserving of an effigy on a theatral grand stair-case!" His gratitude +could no further express itself. In joy he whipped the horses on. Fools +might be fighting--he was the conqueror. From Brescia, one leap took him +in fancy to London. He composed mentally a letter to be forwarded +immediately to a London manager, directing him to cause the appearance of +articles in the journals on the grand new prima donna, whose singing had +awakened the people of Italy. + +Another day brought them in view of the Lago di Garda. The flag of +Sardinia hung from the walls of Peschiera. And now Vittoria saw the +Pastrengo hills--dear hills, that drove her wretched languor out of her, +and made her soul and body one again. The horses were going at a gallop. +Shots were heard. To the left of them, somewhat in the rear, on higher +ground, there was an encounter of a body of Austrians and Italians: +Tyrolese riflemen and the volunteers. Pericles was raving. He refused +to draw the reins till they had reached the village, where one of the +horses dropped. From the windows of the inn, fronting a clear space, +Vittoria beheld a guard of Austrians surrounding two or more prisoners. +A woman sat near them with her head buried in her lap. Presently an +officer left the door of the inn and spoke to the soldiers. "That is +Count Karl von Lenkenstein," Wilfrid said in a whisper. Pericles had +been speaking with Count Karl and came up to the room, saying, "We are to +observe something; but we are safe; it is only fortune of war." Wilfrid +immediately went out to report himself. He was seen giving his papers, +after which Count Karl waved his finger back to the inn, and he returned. +Vittoria sprang to her feet at the words he uttered. Rinaldo Guidascarpi +was one of the prisoners. The others Wilfrid professed not to know. The +woman was the wife of Barto Rizzo. + +In the great red of sunset the Tyrolese riflemen and a body of Italians +in Austrian fatigue uniform marched into the village. These formed in +the space before the inn. It seemed as if Count Karl were declaiming an +indictment. A voice answered, "I am the man." It was clear and straight +as a voice that goes up in the night. Then a procession walked some +paces on. The woman followed. She fell prostrate at the feet of Count +Karl. He listened to her and nodded. Rinaldo Guidascarpi stood alone +with bandaged eyes. The woman advanced to him; she put her mouth on his +ear; there she hung. + +Vittoria heard a single shot. Rinaldo Guidascarpi lay stretched upon the +ground. and the woman stood over him. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +As the Lord decided, so it would end! "Oh, delicious creed!" +By our manner of loving we are known +Every church of the city lent its iron tongue to the peal +Fast growing to be an eccentric by profession +I always respected her; I never liked her +Too well used to defeat to believe readily in victory +Will not admit the existence of a virtue in an opposite opinion + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Vittoria, v6 +by George Meredith + diff --git a/4440.zip b/4440.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c7c4ee --- /dev/null +++ b/4440.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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