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diff --git a/4443-0.txt b/4443-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..506f4d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/4443-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21427 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Vittoria, Complete, by George Meredith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Vittoria, Complete + +Author: George Meredith + +Release Date: October 13, 2006 [EBook #4443] +Last Updated: February 26, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VITTORIA, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +VITTORIA + + +By George Meredith + + + + +CONTENTS: + + BOOK 1. + I. UP MONTE MOTTERONE + II. ON THE HEIGHTS + III. SIGNORINA VITTORIA + IV. AMMIANI'S INTERCESSION + V. THE SPY + VI. THE WARNING + VII. BARTO RIZZO + VIII. THE LETTER + + BOOK 2. + IX. IN VERONA + X. THE POPE'S MOUTH + XI. LAURA PIAVENI + XII. THE BRONZE BUTTERFLY + XIII. THE PLOT OF THE SIGNOR ANTONIO + + BOOK 3. + XIV. AT THE MAESTRO'S DOOR + XV. AMMIANI THROUGH THE MIDNIGHT + XVI. COUNTESS AMMIANI + XVII. IN THE PIAZZA D'ARMI + XVIII. THE NIGHT OF THE FIFTEENTH + XIX. THE PRIMA DONNA + + BOOK 4. + XX. THE OPERA OF CAMILLA + XXI. THE THIRD ACT + XXII. WILFRID COMES FORWARD + XXIII. FIRST HOURS OF THE FLIGHT + XXIV. ADVENTURES OF VITTORIA AND ANGELO + XXV. ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS + + BOOK 5. + XXVI. THE DUEL IN THE PASS + XXVII. A NEW ORDEAL + XXVIII. THE ESCAPE OF ANGELO + + BOOK 6. + XXIX. EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR--THE TOBACCO RIOTS + --RINALDO GUIDASCARPI + XXX. EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR--THE FIVE DAYS OF MILAN + XXXI. EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR--VITTORIA DISOBEYS HER LOVER + XXXII. EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR--THE TREACHERY OF + PERICLES-THE WRITE UMBRELLA--THE DEATH OF RINALDO GUIDASCARPI + + BOOK 7. + XXXIII. EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR--COUNT KARL LENKENSTEIN-- + THE STORY OF THE GUIDASCARPI--THE VICTORY OF THE VOLUNTEERS + XXXIV. EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR--THE DEEDS OF BARTO RIZZO-- + THE MEETING AT ROVEREDO + XXXV. CLOSE OF THE LOMBARD CAMPAIGN--VITTORIA'S PERPLEXITY + XXXVI. A FRESH ENTANGLEMENT + XXXVII. ON LAGO MAGGIORE + XXXVIII. VIOLETTA D'ISORELLA + XXXIX. ANNA OF LENKENSTEIN + + BOOK 8. + XL. THROUGH THE WINTER + XLI. THE INTERVIEW + XLII. THE SHADOW OF CONSPIRACY + XLIII. THE LAST MEETING IN MILAN + XLIV. THE WIFE AND THE HUSBAND + XLV. SHOWS MANY PATHS CONVERGING TO THE END + XLVI. THE LAST + EPILOGUE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +From Monte Motterone you survey the Lombard plain. It is a towering dome +of green among a hundred pinnacles of grey and rust-red crags. At +dawn the summit of the mountain has an eagle eye for the far Venetian +boundary and the barrier of the Apennines; but with sunrise come the +mists. The vast brown level is seen narrowing in; the Ticino and the +Sesia waters, nearest, quiver on the air like sleepy lakes; the plain is +engulphed up to the high ridges of the distant Southern mountain range, +which lie stretched to a faint cloud-like line, in shape like a solitary +monster of old seas crossing the Deluge. Long arms of vapour stretch +across the urn-like valleys, and gradually thickening and swelling +upward, enwrap the scored bodies of the ashen-faced peaks and the +pastures of the green mountain, till the heights become islands over +a forgotten earth. Bells of herds down the hidden run of the sweet +grasses, and a continuous leaping of its rivulets, give the Motterone +a voice of youth and homeliness amid that stern company of Titan-heads, +for whom the hawk and the vulture cry. The storm has beaten at them +until they have got the aspect of the storm. They take colour from +sunlight, and are joyless in colour as in shade. When the lower world +is under pushing steam, they wear the look of the revolted sons of Time, +fast chained before scornful heaven in an iron peace. Day at last brings +vigorous fire; arrows of light pierce the mist-wreaths, the dancing +draperies, the floors of vapour; and the mountain of piled pasturages is +seen with its foot on the shore of Lago Maggiore. Down an extreme gulf +the full sunlight, as if darting on a jewel in the deeps, seizes the +blue-green lake with its isles. The villages along the darkly-wooded +borders of the lake show white as clustered swans; here and there a +tented boat is visible, shooting from terraces of vines, or hanging on +its shadow. Monte Boscero is unveiled; the semicircle of the Piedmontese +and the Swiss peaks, covering Lake Orta, behind, on along the Ticinese +and the Grisons, leftward toward and beyond the Lugano hills, stand bare +in black and grey and rust-red and purple. You behold a burnished realm +of mountain and plain beneath the royal sun of Italy. In the foreground +it shines hard as the lines of an irradiated Cellini shield. Farther +away, over middle ranges that are soft and clear, it melts, confusing +the waters with hot rays, and the forests with darkness, to where, +wavering in and out of view like flying wings, and shadowed like wings +of archangels with rose and with orange and with violet, silverwhite +Alps are seen. You might take them for mystical streaming torches on the +border-ground between vision and fancy. They lean as in a great flight +forward upon Lombardy. + +The curtain of an early autumnal morning was everywhere lifted around +the Motterone, save for one milky strip of cloud that lay lizard-like +across the throat of Monte Boscero facing it, when a party of five +footfarers, who had met from different points of ascent some way below, +and were climbing the mountain together, stood upon the cropped herbage +of the second plateau, and stopped to eye the landscape; possibly also +to get their breath. They were Italians. Two were fair-haired muscular +men, bronzed by the sun and roughly bearded, bearing the stamp of breed +of one or other of the hill-cities under the Alps. A third looked a +sturdy soldier, squareset and hard of feature, for whom beauties of +scenery had few awakening charms. The remaining couple were an old +man and a youth, upon whose shoulder the veteran leaned, and with a +whimsical turn of head and eye, indicative of some playful cast of +mind, poured out his remarks upon the objects in sight, and chuckled +to himself, like one who has learnt the necessity to appreciate his own +humour if he is disposed to indulge it. He was carelessly wrapped about +in long loose woollen stuff, but the youth was dressed like a Milanese +cavalier of the first quality, and was evidently one who would have been +at home in the fashionable Corso. His face was of the sweetest virile +Italian beauty. The head was long, like a hawk's, not too lean, and not +sharply ridged from a rapacious beak, but enough to show characteristics +of eagerness and promptitude. His eyes were darkest blue, the eyebrows +and long disjoining eyelashes being very dark over them, which made +their colour precious. The nose was straight and forward from the brows; +a fluent black moustache ran with the curve of the upper lip, and lost +its line upon a smooth olive cheek. The upper lip was firmly supported +by the under, and the chin stood freely out from a fine neck and throat. + +After a space an Austrian war-steamer was discerned puffing out of the +harbour of Laveno. + +“That will do,” said the old man. “Carlo, thou son of Paolo, we will +stump upward once more. Tell me, hulloa, sir! are the best peaches +doomed to entertain vile, domiciliary, parasitical insects? I ask you, +does nature exhibit motherly regard, or none, for the regions of the +picturesque? None, I say. It is an arbitrary distinction of our day. To +complain of the intrusion of that black-yellow flag and foul smoke-line +on the lake underneath us is preposterous, since, as you behold, the +heavens make no protestation. Let us up. There is comfort in exercise, +even for an ancient creature such as I am. This mountain is my brother, +and flatters me not--I am old.” + +“Take my arm, dear Agostino,” said the youth. + +“Never, my lad, until I need it. On, ahead of me, goat! chamois! and +teach me how the thing used to be done in my time. Old legs must be +the pupils of young ones mark that piece of humility, and listen with +respectfulness to an old head by-and-by.” + +It was the autumn antecedent to that memorable Spring of the great +Italian uprising, when, though for a tragic issue, the people of Italy +first felt and acted as a nation, and Charles Albert, called the Sword +of Italy, aspired, without comprehension of the passion of patriotism +by which it was animated, to lead it quietly into the fold of his +Piedmontese kingship. + +There is not an easier or a pleasanter height to climb than the +Motterone, if, in Italian heat, you can endure the disappointment of +seeing the summit, as you ascend, constantly flit away to a farther +station. It seems to throw its head back, like a laughing senior when +children struggle up for kissings. The party of five had come through +the vines from Stresa and from Baveno. The mountain was strange to them, +and they had already reckoned twice on having the topmost eminence +in view, when reaching it they found themselves on a fresh plateau, +traversed by wild water-courses, and browsed by Alpine herds; and again +the green dome was distant. They came to the highest chalet, where a +hearty wiry young fellow, busily employed in making cheese, invited +them to the enjoyment of shade and fresh milk. “For the sake of these +adolescents, who lose much and require much, let it be so,” said +Agostino gravely, and not without some belief that he consented to rest +on behalf of his companions. They allowed the young mountaineer to close +the door, and sat about his fire like sagacious men. When cooled and +refreshed, Agostino gave the signal for departure, and returned thanks +for hospitality. Money was not offered and not expected. As they +were going forth the mountaineer accompanied them to the step on the +threshold, and with a mysterious eagerness in his eyes, addressed +Agostino. + +“Signore, is it true?--the king marches?” + +“Who is the king, my friend?” returned Agostino. “If he marches out of +his dominions, the king confers a blessing on his people perchance.” + +“Our king, signore!” The mountaineer waved his finger as from Novara +toward Milan. + +Agostino seemed to awaken swiftly from his disguise of an absolute +gravity. A red light stood in his eyeballs, as if upon a fiery answer. +The intemperate fit subsided. Smoothing dawn his mottled grey beard with +quieting hands, he took refuge in his habitual sententious irony. + +“My friend, I am not a hare in front of the king, nor am I a ram in the +rear of him: I fly him not, neither do I propel him. So, therefore, I +cannot predict the movements of the king. Will the wind blow from the +north to-morrow, think you?” + +The mountaineer sent a quick gaze up the air, as to descry signs. + +“Who knows?” Agostino continued, though not playing into the smiles of +his companions; “the wind will blow straight thither where there is +a vacuum; and all that we can state of the king is, that there is +a positive vacuum here. It would be difficult to predict the king's +movements save by such weighty indications.” + +He laid two fingers hard against the rib which shields the heart. It had +become apparently necessary for the speaker to relieve a mind surcharged +with bile at the mention of the king; for, having done, he rebuked +with an amazed frown the indiscretion of Carlo, who had shouted, “The +Carbonaro king!” + +“Carlo, my son, I will lean on your arm. On your mouth were better,” + Agostino added, under his voice, as they moved on. + +“Oh, but,” Carlo remonstrated, “let us trust somebody. Milan has made me +sick of late. I like the look of that fellow.” + +“You allow yourself, my Carlo, an immense indulgence in permitting +yourself to like the look of anything. Now, listen--Viva Carlo Alberto!” + +The old man rang out the loyal salutation spiritedly, and awoke a prompt +response from the mountaineer, who sounded his voice wide in the keen +upper air. + +“There's the heart of that fellow!” said Agostino. “He has but one +idea--his king! If you confound it, he takes you for an enemy. These +free mountain breezes intoxicate you. You would embrace the king himself +if you met him here.” + +“I swear I would never be guilty of the bad joke of crying a 'Viva' +to him anywhere upon earth,” Carlo replied. “I offend you,” he said +quickly. + +The old man was smiling. + +“Agostino Balderini is too notoriously a bad joker to be offended by the +comments of the perfectly sensible, boy of mine! My limbs were stiff, +and the first three steps from a place of rest reminded me acutely of +the king's five years of hospitality. He has saved me from all fatigue +so long, that the necessity to exercise these old joints of mine touched +me with a grateful sense of his royal bounty. I had from him a chair, +a bed, and a table: shelter from sun and from all silly chatter. Now I +want a chair or a bed. I should like to sit at a table; the sun burns +me; my ears are afflicted. I cry 'Viva!' to him that I may be in harmony +with the coming chorus of Italy, which I prophetically hear. That young +fellow, in whom you confide so much, speaks for his country. We poor +units must not be discordant. No! Individual opinion, my Carlo, is +discord when there is a general delirium. The tide arriving, let us make +the best of the tide. My voice is wisdom. We shall have to follow this +king!” + +“Shall we!” uttered one behind them gruffly. “When I see this king +swallow one ounce of Austrian lead, I shall not be sorry to follow him!” + +“Right, my dear Ugo,” said Agostino, turning round to him; “and I will +then compose his hymn of praise. He has swallowed enough of Austrian +bread. He took an Austrian wife to his bed. Who knows? he may some day +declare a preference for Austrian lead. But we shall have to follow him, +or stay at home drivelling.” + +Agostino raised his eyes, that were glazed with the great heat of his +frame. + +“Oh, that, like our Dante, I had lived in the days when souls were +damned! Then would I uplift another shout, believe me! As things go +now, we must allow the traitor to hope for his own future, and we simply +shrug. We cannot plant him neck-deep for everlasting in a burning marl, +and hear him howling. We have no weapons in these times--none! Our +curses come back to roost. This is one of the serious facts of the +century, and controls violent language. What! are you all gathered about +me? Oracles must be moving, too. There's no rest even for them, when +they have got a mountain to scale.” + +A cry, “He is there!” and “Do you see him?” burst from the throats of +men surrounding Agostino. + +Looking up to the mountain's top, they had perceived the figure of +one who stood with folded arms, sufficiently near for the person of an +expected friend to be descried. They waved their hats, and Carlo +shot ahead. The others trod after him more deliberately, but in glad +excitement, speculating on the time which this sixth member of the +party, who were engaged to assemble at a certain hour of the morning +upon yonder height, had taken to reach the spot from Omegna, or Orta, +or Pella, and rejoicing that his health should be so stout in despite of +his wasting labours under city smoke. + +“Yes, health!” said Agostino. “Is it health, do you think? It's the +heart of the man! and a heart with a mill-stone about it--a heart to +breed a country from! There stands the man who has faith in Italy, +though she has been lying like a corpse for centuries. God bless him! He +has no other comfort. Viva l'Italia!” + +The exclamation went up, and was acknowledged by him on the eminence +overhanging them; but at a repetition of it his hand smote the air +sideways. They understood the motion, and were silent; while he, until +Carlo breathed his name in his hearing, eyed the great scene stedfastly, +with the absorbing simple passion of one who has endured long exile, +and finds his clustered visions of it confronting the strange, +beloved, visible life:--the lake in the arms of giant mountains: the +far-spreading hazy plain; the hanging forests; the pointed crags; the +gleam of the distant rose-shadowed snows that stretch for ever like an +airy host, mystically clad, and baffling the eye as with the motions of +a flight toward the underlying purple land. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +He was a man of middle stature, thin, and even frail, as he stood +defined against the sky; with the complexion of the student, and the +student's aspect. The attentive droop of his shoulders and head, the +straining of the buttoned coat across his chest, the air as of one who +waited and listened, which distinguished his figure, detracted from the +promise of other than contemplative energy, until his eyes were fairly +seen and felt. That is, until the observer became aware that those soft +and large dark meditative eyes had taken hold of him. In them lay no +abstracted student's languor, no reflex burning of a solitary lamp; but +a quiet grappling force engaged the penetrating look. Gazing upon them, +you were drawn in suddenly among the thousand whirring wheels of a +capacious and a vigorous mind, that was both reasoning and prompt, keen +of intellect, acting throughout all its machinery, and having all under +full command: an orbed mind, supplying its own philosophy, and arriving +at the sword-stroke by logical steps,--a mind much less supple than a +soldier's; anything but the mind of a Hamlet. The eyes were dark as the +forest's border is dark; not as night is dark. Under favourable lights +their colour was seen to be a deep rich brown, like the chestnut, or +more like the hazel-edged sunset brown which lies upon our western rivers +in the winter floods, when night begins to shadow them. + +The side-view of his face was an expression of classic beauty rarely now +to be beheld, either in classic lands or elsewhere. It was severe; the +tender serenity of the full bow of the eyes relieved it. In profile they +showed little of their intellectual quality, but what some might have +thought a playful luminousness, and some a quick pulse of feeling. The +chin was firm; on it, and on the upper lip, there was a clipped growth +of black hair. The whole visage widened upward from the chin, though not +very markedly before it reached the broad-lying brows. The temples were +strongly indented by the swelling of the forehead above them: and +on both sides of the head there ran a pregnant ridge, such as will +sometimes lift men a deplorable half inch above the earth we tread. +If this man was a problem to others, he was none to himself; and when +others called him an idealist, he accepted the title, reading himself, +notwithstanding, as one who was less flighty than many philosophers and +professedly practical teachers of his generation. He saw far, and he +grasped ends beyond obstacles: he was nourished by sovereign principles; +he despised material present interests; and, as I have said, he was less +supple than a soldier. If the title of idealist belonged to him, we will +not immediately decide that it was opprobrious. The idealized conception +of stern truths played about his head certainly for those who knew and +who loved it. Such a man, perceiving a devout end to be reached, might +prove less scrupulous in his course, possibly, and less remorseful, than +revolutionary Generals. His smile was quite unclouded, and came softly +as a curve in water. It seemed to flow with, and to pass in and out of, +his thoughts, to be a part of his emotion and his meaning when it +shone transiently full. For as he had an orbed mind, so had he an orbed +nature. The passions were absolutely in harmony with the intelligence. +He had the English manner; a remarkable simplicity contrasting with +the demonstrative outcries and gesticulations of his friends when they +joined him on the height. Calling them each by name, he received their +caresses and took their hands; after which he touched the old man's +shoulder. + +“Agostino, this has breathed you?” + +“It has; it has, my dear and best one!” Agostino replied. “But here is a +good market-place for air. Down below we have to scramble for it in the +mire. The spies are stifling down below. I don't know my own shadow. I +begin to think that I am important. Footing up a mountain corrects the +notion somewhat. Yonder, I believe, I see the Grisons, where Freedom +sits. And there's the Monte della Disgrazia. Carlo Alberto should be on +the top of it, but he is invisible. I do not see that Unfortunate.” + +“No,” said Carlo Ammiani, who chimed to his humour more readily than +the rest, and affected to inspect the Grisons' peak through a diminutive +opera-glass. “No, he is not there.” + +“Perhaps, my son, he is like a squirrel, and is careful to run up +t'other side of the stem. For he is on that mountain; no doubt of it +can exist even in the Boeotian mind of one of his subjects; myself, for +example. It will be an effulgent fact when he gains the summit.” + +The others meantime had thrown themselves on the grass at the feet of +their manifestly acknowledged leader, and looked up for Agostino to +explode the last of his train of conceits. He became aware that the +moment for serious talk had arrived, and bent his body, groaning loudly, +and uttering imprecations against him whom he accused of being the +promoter of its excruciating stiffness, until the ground relieved him of +its weight. Carlo continued standing, while his eyes examined restlessly +the slopes just surmounted by them, and occasionally the deep descent +over the green-glowing Orta Lake. It was still early morning. The heat +was tempered by a cool breeze that came with scents of thyme. They had +no sight of human creature anywhere, but companionship of Alps and birds +of upper air; and though not one of them seasoned the converse with +an exclamation of joy and of blessings upon a place of free speech and +safety, the thought was in their hunted bosoms, delicious as a woodland +rivulet that sings only to the leaves overshadowing it. + +They were men who had sworn to set a nation free,--free from the +foreigner, to begin with. + +(He who tells this tale is not a partisan; he would deal equally toward +all. Of strong devotion, of stout nobility, of unswerving faith and +self-sacrifice, he must approve; and when these qualities are displayed +in a contest of forces, the wisdom of means employed, or of ultimate +views entertained, may be questioned and condemned; but the men +themselves may not be.) + +These men had sworn their oath, knowing the meaning of it, and the +nature of the Fury against whom men who stand voluntarily pledged to any +great resolve must thenceforward match themselves. Many of the original +brotherhood had fallen, on the battle-field, on the glacis, or in +the dungeon. All present, save the youthfuller Carlo, had suffered. +Imprisonment and exile marked the Chief. Ugo Corte, of Bergamo, had seen +his family swept away by the executioner and pecuniary penalties. Thick +scars of wounds covered the body and disfigured the face of Giulio +Bandinelli. Agostino had crawled but half-a-year previously out of his +Piedmontese cell, and Marco Sana, the Brescian, had in such a place +tasted of veritable torture. But if the calamity of a great oath was +upon them, they had now in their faithful prosecution of it the support +which it gives. They were unwearied; they had one object; the mortal +anguish they had gone through had left them no sense for regrets. Life +had become the field of an endless engagement to them; and as in battle +one sees beloved comrades struck down, and casts but a glance at their +prostrate forms, they heard the mention of a name, perchance, and with +a word or a sign told what was to be said of a passionate glorious heart +at rest, thanks to Austrian or vassal-Sardinian mercy. + +So they lay there and discussed their plans. + +“From what quarter do you apprehend the surprise?” Ugo Corte glanced +up from the maps and papers spread along the grass to question Carlo +ironically, while the latter appeared to be keeping rigid watch over the +safety of the position. Carlo puffed the smoke of a cigarette rapidly, +and Agostino replied for him:--“From the quarter where the best donkeys +are to be had.” + +It was supposed that Agostino had resumed the habit usually laid aside +by him for the discussion of serious matters, and had condescended to +father a coarse joke; but his eyes showed no spark of their well-known +twinkling solicitation for laughter, and Carlo spoke in answer +gravely:--“From Baveno it will be.” + +“From Baveno! They might as well think to surprise hawks from Baveno. +Keep watch, dear Ammiani; a good start in a race is a kick from the +Gods.” + +With that, Corte turned to the point of his finger on the map. He +conceived it possible that Carlo Ammiani, a Milanese, had reason to +anticipate the approach of people by whom he, or they, might not wish to +be seen. Had he studied Carlo's face he would have been reassured. The +brows of the youth were open, and his eyes eager with expectation, that +showed the flying forward of the mind, and nothing of knotted distrust +or wary watchfulness. Now and then he would move to the other side of +the mountain, and look over upon Orta; or with the opera-glass clasped +in one hand beneath an arm, he stopped in his sentinel-march, frowning +reflectively at a word put to him, as if debating within upon all the +bearings of it; but the only answer that came was a sharp assent, +given after the manner of one who dealt conscientiously in definite +affirmatives; and again the glass was in requisition. Marco Sana was +a fighting soldier, who stated what he knew, listened, and took his +orders. Giulio Bandinelli was also little better than the lieutenant in +an enterprise. Corte, on the other hand, had the conspirator's head,--a +head like a walnut, bulging above the ears,--and the man was of a +sallying temper. He lay there putting bit by bit of his plot before +the Chief for his approval, with a careful construction, that upon the +expression of any doubt of its working smoothly in the streets of Milan, +caused him to shout a defensive, “But Carlo says yes!” + +This uniform character of Ammiani's replies, and the smile of Agostino +on hearing them, had begun to strike the attention of the soldierly +Marco Sana. He ran his hand across his shorn head, and puffed his burnt +red mole-spotted cheeks, with a sidelong stare at the abstracted youth, +“Said yes!” he remarked. “He might say no, for a diversion. He has +yeses enough in his pay to earn a Cardinal's hat. 'Is Milan preparing to +rise?' 'Yes.'--'Is she ready for the work?' 'Yes.'--'Is the garrison +on its guard?' 'Yes.'--'Have you seen Barto Rizzo?' 'Yes.'--'Have the +people got the last batch of arms?' 'Yes.'--And 'Yes,' the secret is +well kept; 'Yes,' Barto Rizzo is steadily getting them together. We may +rely on him: Carlo is his intimate friend: Yes, Yes:--There's a regiment +of them at your service, and you may shuffle them as you will. This is +the help we get from Milan: a specimen of what we may expect!” + +Sana had puffed himself hot, and now blew for coolness. + +“You are,”--Agostino addressed him,--“philosophically totally wrong, my +Marco. Those affirmatives are fat worms for the catching of fish. They +are the real pretty fruit of the Hesperides. Personally, you or I may be +irritated by them: but I'm not sure they don't please us. Were Carlo +a woman, of course he should learn to say no;--as he will now if I +ask him, Is she in sight? I won't do it, you know; but as a man and a +diplomatist, it strikes me that he can't say yes too often.” + +“Answer me, Count Ammiani, and do me the favour to attend to these +trifles for the space of two minutes,” said Corte. “Have you seen Barto +Rizzo? Is he acting for Medole?” + +“As mole, as reindeer, and as bloody northern Raven!” ejaculated +Agostino: “perhaps to be jackal, by-and-by. But I do not care to abuse +our Barto Rizzo, who is a prodigy of nature, and has, luckily for +himself, embraced a good cause, for he is certain to be hanged if he is +not shot. He has the prophetic owl's face. I have always a fancy of his +hooting his own death-scrip. I wrong our Barto:--Medole would be the +jackal, if it lay between the two.” + +Carlo Ammiani had corrected Corte's manner to him by a complacent +readiness to give him distinct replies. He then turned and set off at +full speed down the mountain. + +“She is sighted at last,” Agostino murmured, and added rapidly some +spirited words under his breath to the Chief, whose chin was resting on +his doubled hand. + +Corte, Marco, and Giulio were full of denunciations against Milan and +the Milanese, who had sent a boy to their councils. It was Brescia and +Bergamo speaking in their jealousy, but Carlo's behaviour was odd, +and called for reproof. He had come as the deputy of Milan to meet the +Chief, and he had not spoken a serious word on the great business of +the hour, though the plot had been unfolded, the numbers sworn to, and +Brescia, and Bergamo, and Cremona, and Venice had spoken upon all points +through their emissaries, the two latter cities being represented by +Sana and Corte. + +“We've had enough of this lad,” said Corte. “His laundress is following +him with a change of linen, I suppose, or it's a scent-bottle. He's an +admirable representative of the Lombard metropolis!” Corte drawled out +the words in prodigious mimicry. “If Milan has nothing better to send +than such a fellow, we'll finish without her, and shame the beast that +she is. She has been always a treacherous beast!” + +“Poor Milan!” sighed the Chief; “she lies under the beak of the vulture, +and has twice been devoured; but she has a soul: she proves it. Ammiani, +too, will prove his value. I have no doubt of him. As to boys, or even +girls, you know my faith is in the young. Through them Italy lives. What +power can teach devotion to the old?” + +“I thank you, signore,” Agostino gesticulated. + +“But, tell me, when did you learn it, my friend?” + +In answer, Agostino lifted his hand a little boy's height from the +earth. + +The old man then said: “I am afraid, my dear Corte, you must accept the +fellowship of a girl as well as of a boy upon this occasion. See! our +Carlo! You recognize that dancing speck below there?--he has joined +himself--the poor lad wishes he could, I dare swear!--to another bigger +speck, which is verily a lady: who has joined herself to a donkey--a +common habit of the sex, I am told; but I know them not. That lady, +signor Ugo, is the signorina Vittoria. You stare? But, I tell you, the +game cannot go on without her; and that is why I have permitted you to +knock the ball about at your own pleasure for these forty minutes.” + +Corte drew his under-lip on his reddish stubble moustache. “Are we to +have women in a conference?” he asked from eye to eye. + +“Keep to the number, Ugo; and moreover, she is not a woman, but a noble +virgin. I discern a distinction, though you may not. The Vestal's fire +burns straight.” + +“Who is she?” + +“It rejoices me that she should be so little known. All the greater +the illumination when her light shines out! The signorina Vittoria is a +cantatrice who is about to appear upon the boards.” + +“Ah! that completes it.” Corte rose to his feet with an air of +desperation. “We require to be refreshed with quavers and crescendos +and trillets! Who ever knew a singer that cared an inch of flesh for +her country? Money, flowers, flattery, vivas! but, money! money! +and Austrian as good as Italian. I've seen the accursed wenches bow +gratefully for Austrian bouquets:--bow? ay, and more; and when the +Austrian came to them red with our blood. I spit upon their polluted +cheeks! They get us an ill name wherever they go. These singers have no +country. One--I knew her--betrayed Filippo Mastalone, and sang the night +of the day he was shot. I heard the white demon myself. I could have +taken her long neck till she twisted like a serpent and hissed. May +heaven forgive me for not levelling a pistol at her head! If God, my +friends, had put the thought into my brain that night!” + +A flush had deadened Corte's face to the hue of nightshade. + +“You thunder in a clear atmosphere, my Ugo,” returned the old man, as he +fell back calmly at full length. + +“And who is this signorina Vittoria?” cried Corte. + +“A cantatrice who is about to appear upon the boards, as I have already +remarked: of La Scala, let me add, if you hold it necessary.” + +“And what does she do here?” + +“Her object in coming, my friend? Her object in coming is, first, to +make her reverence to one who happens to be among us this day; and +secondly, but principally, to submit a proposition to him and to us.” + +“What's her age?” Corte sneered. + +“According to what calendar would you have it reckoned? Wisdom would say +sixty: Father Chronos might divide that by three, and would get scarce a +month in addition, hungry as he is for her, and all of us! But Minerva's +handmaiden has no age. And now, dear Ugo, you have your opportunity to +denounce her as a convicted screecher by night. Do so.” + +Corte turned his face to the Chief, and they spoke together for some +minutes: after which, having had names of noble devoted women, dead and +living, cited to him, in answer to brutal bellowings against that sex, +and hearing of the damsel under debate as one who was expected and was +welcome, he flung himself upon the ground again, inviting calamity by +premature resignation. Giulio Bandinelli stretched his hand for Carlo's +glass, and spied the approach of the signorina. + +“Dark,” he said. + +“A jewel of that complexion,” added Agostino, by way of comment. + +“She has scorching eyes.” + +“She may do mischief; she may do mischief; let it be only on the right +Side!” + +“She looks fat.” + +“She sits doubled up and forward, don't you see, to relieve the poor +donkey. You, my Giulio, would call a swan fat if the neck were not +always on the stretch.” + +“By Bacchus! what a throat she has!” + +“And well interjected, Giulio! It runs down like wine, like wine, to the +little ebbing and flowing wave! Away with the glass, my boy! You must +trust to all that's best about you to spy what's within. She makes me +young--young!” + +Agostino waved his hand in the form of a salute to her on the last short +ascent. She acknowledged it gracefully; and talking at intervals to +Carlo Ammiani, who footed briskly by her side, she drew by degrees among +the eyes fixed on her, some of which were not gentle; but hers were for +the Chief, at whose feet, when dismounted by Ammiani's solicitous aid, +she would have knelt, had he not seized her by her elbows, and put his +lips to her cheek. + +“The signorina Vittoria, gentlemen,” said Agostino. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +The old man had introduced her with much of the pride of a father +displaying some noble child of his for the first time to admiring +friends. + +“She is one of us,” he pursued; “a daughter of Italy! My daughter also; +is it not so?” + +He turned to her as for a confirmation. The signorina pressed his +fingers. She was a little intimidated, and for the moment seemed shy +and girlish. The shade of her broad straw hat partly concealed her vivid +features. + +“Now, gentlemen, if you please, the number is complete, and we may +proceed to business,” said Agostino, formally but as he conducted the +signorina to place her at the feet of the Chief, she beckoned to her +servant, who was holding the animal she had ridden. He came up to her, +and presented himself in something of a military posture of attention +to her commands. These were that he should take the poor brute to +water, and then lead him back to Baveno, and do duty in waiting upon +her mother. The first injunction was received in a decidedly acquiescent +manner. On hearing the second, which directed his abandonment of his +post of immediate watchfulness over her safety, the man flatly objected +with a “Signorina, no.” + +He was a handsome bright-eyed fellow, with a soldier's frame and a smile +as broad and beaming as laughter, indicating much of that mixture of +acuteness, and simplicity which is a characteristic of the South, and +means no more than that the extreme vivacity of the blood exceeds at +times that of the brain. + +A curious frown of half-amused astonishment hung on the signorina's +face. + +“When I tell you to go, Beppo!” + +At once the man threw out his fingers, accompanied by an amazingly +voluble delivery of his reasons for this revolt against her authority. +Among other things, he spoke of an oath sworn by him to a foreign +gentleman, his patron,--for whom, and for whomsoever he loved, he was +ready to pour forth his heart's blood,--to the effect that he would +never quit her side when she left the roof of her house. + +“You see, Beppo,” she remonstrated, “I am among friends.” + +Beppo gave a sweeping bow, but remained firm where he stood. Ammiani +cast a sharp hard look at the man. + +“Do you hear the signorina's orders?” + +“I hear them, signore.” + +“Will you obey them?” + +She interposed. “He must not hear quick words. Beppo is only showing +his love for his master and for me. But you are wrong in this case, my +Beppo. You shall give me your protection when I require it; and now, you +are sensible, and must understand that it is not wanted. I tell you to +go.” + +Beppo read the eyes of his young mistress. + +“Signorina,”--he stooped forward mysteriously,--“signorina, that fellow +is in Baveno. I saw him this morning.” + +“Good, good. And now go, my friend.” + +“The signor Agostino,” he remarked loudly, to attract the old man; “the +signor Agostino may think proper to advise you.” + +“The signor Agostino will laugh at nothing that you say to-day, Beppo. +You will obey me. Go at once,” she repeated, seeing him on tiptoe to +gain Agostino's attention. + +Beppo knew by her eyes that her ears were locked against him; and, +though she spoke softly, there was an imperiousness in her voice not to +be disregarded. He showed plainly by the lost rigidity of his attitude +that he was beaten and perplexed. Further expostulations being +disregarded, he turned his head to look at the poor panting beast under +his charge, and went slowly up to him: they walked off together, a +crest-fallen pair. + +“You have gained the victory, signorina,” said Ugo Corte. + +She replied, smiling, “My poor Beppo! it's not difficult to get the best +of those who love us.” + +“Ha!” cried Agostino; “here is one of their secrets, Carlo. Take heed of +it, my boy. We shall have queens when kings are fossils, mark me!” + +Ammiani muttered a courtly phrase, whereat Corte yawned in very grim +fashion. + +The signorina had dropped to the grass, at a short step from the Chief, +to whom her face was now seriously given. In Ammiani's sight she looked +a dark Madonna, with the sun shining bright gold through the edges +of the summer hat, thrown back from her head. The full and steady +contemplative eyes had taken their fixed expression, after a vanishing +affectionate gaze of an instant cast upon Agostino. Attentive as they +were, light played in them like water. The countenance was vivid in +repose. She leaned slightly forward, clasping the wrist of one hand +about her knee, and the sole of one little foot showed from under her +dress. + +Deliberately, but with no attempt at dramatic impressiveness, the Chief +began to speak. He touched upon the condition of Italy, and the new lilt +animating her young men and women. “I have heard many good men jeer,” + he said, “at our taking women to our counsel, accepting their help, and +putting a great stake upon their devotion. You have read history, and +you know what women can accomplish. They may be trained, equally as we +are, to venerate the abstract idea of country, and be a sacrifice to it. +Without their aid, and the fire of a fresh life being kindled in their +bosoms, no country that has lain like ours in the death-trance can +revive. In the death-trance, I say, for Italy does not die!” + +“True,” said other voices. + +“We have this belief in the eternal life of our country, and the belief +is the life itself. But let no strong man among us despise the help of +women. I have seen our cause lie desperate, and those who despaired +of it were not women. Women kept the flame alive. They worship in the +temple of the cause.” + +Ammiani's eyes dwelt fervidly upon the signorina. Her look, which was +fastened upon the Chief, expressed a mind that listened to strange +matter concerning her very little. But when the plans for the rising +of the Bergamascs and Brescians, the Venetians, the Bolognese, the +Milanese, all the principal Northern cities, were recited, with a +practical emphasis thrown upon numbers, upon the readiness of the +organized bands, the dispositions of the leaders, and the amount of +resistance to be expected at the various points indicated for the +outbreak, her hands disjoined, and she stretched her fingers to the +grass, supporting herself so, while her extended chin and animated +features told how eagerly her spirit drank at positive springs, and +thirsted for assurance of the coming storm. + +“It is decided that Milan gives the signal,” said the Chief; and a +light, like the reflection of a beacon-fire upon the night, flashed over +her. + +He was pursuing, when Ugo Corte smote the air with his nervous fingers, +crying out passionately, “Bunglers! are we again to wait for them, and +hear that fifteen patriots have stabbed a Croat corporal, and wrestled +hotly with a lieutenant of the guard? I say they are bunglers. They +never mean the thing. Fifteen! There were just three Milanese among the +last lot--the pick of the city; and the rest were made up of Trentini, +and our lads from Bergamo and Brescia; and the order from the Council +was, 'Go and do the business!' which means, 'Go and earn your ounce of +Austrian lead.' They went, and we gave fifteen true men for one poor +devil of a curst tight blue-leg. They can play the game on if we give +them odds like that. Milan burns bad powder, and goes off like a drugged +pistol. It's a nest of bunglers, and may it be razed! We could do +without it, and well! If it were a family failing, should not I too +be trusting them? My brother was one of the fifteen who marched out as +targets to try the skill of those hell-plumed Tyrolese: and they did it +thoroughly--shot him straight here.” Corte struck his chest. “He gave +a jump and a cry. Was it a viva for Milan? They swear that it was, and +they can't translate from a living mouth, much more from a dead one; but +I know my Niccolo better. I have kissed his lips a thousand times, and +I know the poor boy meant, 'Scorn and eternal distrust of such +peddling conspirators as these!' I can deal with traitors, but these +flash-in-the-pan plotters--these shaking, jelly-bodied patriots!--trust +to them again? Rather draw lots for another fifteen to bare their +breasts and bandage their eyes, and march out in the grey morning, while +the stupid Croat corporal goes on smoking his lumpy pipe! We shall hear +that Milan is moving; we shall rise; we shall be hot at it; and the news +will come that Milan has merely yawned and turned over to sleep on the +other side. Twice she has done this trick, and the garrison there has +sent five regiments to finish us--teach us to sleep soundly likewise! I +say, let it be Bergamo; or be it Brescia, if you like; or Venice: she +is ready. You trust to Milan, and you are fore-doomed. I would swear it +with this hand in the flames. She give the signal? Shut your eyes, cross +your hands flat on your breasts: you are dead men if you move. She lead +the way? Spin on your heels, and you have followed her!” + +Corte had spoken in a thick difficult voice, that seemed to require the +aid of his vehement gestures to pour out as it did like a water-pipe in +a hurricane of rain. He ceased, red almost to blackness, and knotted his +arms, that were big as the cable of a vessel. Not a murmur followed his +speech. The word was, given to the Chief, and he resumed:--“You have +a personal feeling in this case, Ugo. You have not heard me. I came +through Paris. A rocket will soon shoot up from Paris that will be +a signal for Christendom. The keen French wit is sick of its +compromise-king. All Europe is in convulsions in a few months: to-morrow +it may be. The elements are in the hearts of the people, and nothing +will contain them. We have sown them to reap them. The sowing asks for +persistency; but the reaping demands skill and absolute truthfulness. +We have now one of those occasions coming which are the flowers to +be plucked by resolute and worthy hands: they are the tests of our +sincerity. This time now rapidly approaching will try us all, and we +must be ready for it. If we have believed in it, we stand prepared. If +we have conceived our plan of action in purity of heart, we shall be +guided to discern the means which may serve us. You will know speedily +what it is that has prompted you to move. If passion blindfolds you, if +you are foiled by a prejudice, I also shall know. My friend, the +nursing of a single antipathy is a presumption that your motive force is +personal--whether the thirst for vengeance or some internal union of +a hundred indistinct little fits of egoism. I have seen brave and even +noble men fail at the ordeal of such an hour: not fail in courage, not +fail in the strength of their desire; that was the misery for them! +They failed because midway they lost the vision to select the right +instruments put in our way by heaven. That vision belongs solely to such +as have clean and disciplined hearts. The hope in the bosom of a +man whose fixed star is Humanity becomes a part of his blood, and is +extinguished when his blood flows no more. To conquer him, the principle +of life must be conquered. And he, my friend, will use all, because he +serves all. I need not touch on Milan.” + +The signorina drew in her breath quickly, as if in this abrupt close she +had a revelation of the Chief's whole meaning, and was startled by the +sudden unveiling of his mastery. Her hands hung loose; her figure was +tremulous. A murmur from Corte jarred within her like a furious discord, +but he had not offended by refusing to disclaim his error, and had +simply said in a gruff acquiescent way, “Proceed.” Her sensations of +surprise at the singular triumph of the Chief made her look curiously +into the faces of the other men; but the pronouncing of her name engaged +her attention. + +“Your first night is the night of the fifteenth of next month?” + +“It is, signore,” she replied, abashed to find herself speaking with him +who had so moved her. + +“There is no likelihood of a postponement?” + +“I am certain, signore, that I shall be ready.” + +“There are no squabbles of any serious kind among the singers?” + +A soft dimple played for a moment on her lips. “I have heard something.” + +“Among the women?” + +“Yes, and the men.” + +“But the men do not concern you?” + +“No, signore. Except that the women twist them.” + +Agostino chuckled audibly. The Chief resumed: + +“You believe, notwithstanding, that all will go well? The opera will be +acted; and you will appear in it?” + +“Yes, signore. I know one who has determined on it, and can do it.” + +“Good. The opera is Camilla?” + +She was answering with an affirmative, when Agostino broke +in,--“Camilla! And honour to whom honour is due! Let Caesar claim +the writing of the libretto, if it be Caesar's! It has passed the +censorship, signed Agostino Balderini--a disaffected person out of +Piedmont, rendered tame and fangless by a rigorous imprisonment. The +sources of the tale, O ye grave Signori Tedeschi? The sources are +partly to be traced to a neat little French vaudeville, very +sparkling--Camille, or the Husband Asserted; and again to a certain +Chronicle that may be mediaeval, may be modern, and is just, as the +great Shakespeare would say, 'as you like it.'” + +Agostino recited some mock verses, burlesquing the ordinary libretti, +and provoked loud laughter from Carlo Ammiani, who was familiar enough +with the run of their nonsense. + +“Camilla is the bride of Camillo. I give to her all the brains, which +is a modern idea, quite! He does all the mischief, which is possibly +mediaeval. They have both an enemy, which is mediaeval and modern. None +of them know exactly what they are about; so there you have the modern, +the mediaeval, and the antique, all in one. Finally, my friends, Camilla +is something for you to digest at leisure. The censorship swallowed it +at a gulp. Never was bait so handsomely taken! At present I have the joy +of playing my fish. On the night of the fifteenth I land him. Camilla +has a mother. Do you see? That mother is reported, is generally +conceived, as dead. Do you see further? Camilla's first song treats of a +dream she has had of that mother. Our signorina shall not be troubled to +favour you with a taste of it, or, by Bacchus and his Indian nymphs, I +should speedily behold you jumping like peas in a pan, like trout on a +bank! The earth would be hot under you, verily! As I was remarking, or +meant to be, Camilla and her husband disagree, having agreed to. 'Tis a +plot to deceive Count Orso--aha? You are acquainted with Count Orso! He +is Camilla's antenuptial guardian. Now you warm to it! In that condition +I leave you. Perhaps my child here will give you a taste of her voice. +The poetry does much upon reflection, but it has to ripen within you--a +matter of time. Wed this voice to the poetry, and it finds passage +'twixt your ribs, as on the point of a driven blade. Do I cry the +sweetness and the coolness of my melons? Not I! Try them.” + +The signorina put her hand out for the scroll he was unfolding, and cast +her eyes along bars of music, while Agostino called a “Silenzio tutti!” + She sang one verse, and stopped for breath. + +Between her dismayed breathings she said to the Chief:--“Believe me, +signore, I can be trusted to sing when the time comes.” + +“Sing on, my blackbird--my viola!” said Agostino. “We all trust you. +Look at Colonel Corte, and take him for Count Orso. Take me for pretty +Camillo. Take Marco for Michiela; Giulio for Leonardo; Carlo for Cupid. +Take the Chief for the audience. Take him for a frivolous public. Ah, my +Pippo!” (Agostino laughed aside to him). “Let us lead off with a lighter +piece; a trifle-tra-la-la! and then let the frisky piccolo be drowned +in deep organ notes, as on some occasions in history the people overrun +certain puling characters. But that, I confess, is an illustration +altogether out of place, and I'll simply jot it down in my notebook.” + +Agostino had talked on to let her gain confidence. When he was silent +she sang from memory. It was a song of flourishes: one of those +be-flowered arias in which the notes flicker and leap like young +flames. Others might have sung it; and though it spoke favourably of her +aptitude and musical education, and was of a quality to enrapture easy, +merely critical audiences, it won no applause from these men. The +effect produced by it was exhibited in the placid tolerance shown by the +uplifting of Ugo Corte's eyebrows, which said, “Well, here's a voice, +certainly.” His subsequent look added, “Is this what we have come hither +to hear?” + +Vittoria saw the look. “Am I on my trial before you?” she thought; and +the thought nerved her throat. She sang in strong and grave contralto +tones, at first with shut eyes. The sense of hostility left her, and +left her soul free, and she raised them. The song was of Camilla dying. +She pardons the treacherous hand, commending her memory and the strength +of her faith to her husband:-- + + “Beloved, I am quickly out of sight: + I pray that you will love more than my dust. + + Were death defeat, much weeping would be right; + 'Tis victory when it leaves surviving trust. + You will not find me save when you forget + Earth's feebleness, and come to faith, my friend, + For all Humanity doth owe a debt + To all Humanity, until the end.” + +Agostino glanced at the Chief to see whether his ear had caught note of +his own language. + +The melancholy severity of that song of death changed to a song of +prophetic triumph. The signorina stood up. Camilla has thrown off the +mask, and has sung the name “Italia!” At the recurrence of it the men +rose likewise. + + “Italia, Italia, shall be free!” + +Vittoria gave the inspiration of a dying voice: the conquest of death by +an eternal truth seemed to radiate from her. Voice and features were as +one expression of a rapture of belief built upon pathetic trustfulness. + + “Italia, Italia shall be free!” + +She seized the hearts of those hard and serious men as a wind takes the +strong oak-trees, and rocks them on their knotted roots, and leaves them +with the song of soaring among their branches. Italy shone about her; +the lake, the plains, the peaks, and the shouldering flushed snowridges. +Carlo Ammiani breathed as one who draws in fire. Grizzled Agostino +glittered with suppressed emotion, like a frosted thorn-bush in the +sunlight. Ugo Corte had his thick brows down, as a man who is reading +iron matter. The Chief alone showed no sign beyond a half lifting of +the hand, and a most luminous fixed observation of the fair young woman, +from whom power was an emanation, free of effort. The gaze was sad +in its thoughtfulness, such as our feelings translate of the light of +evening. + +She ceased, and he said, “You sing on the night of the fifteenth?” + +“I do, signore.” + +“It is your first appearance?” + +She bent her head. + +“And you will be prepared on that night to sing this song?” + +“Yes, signore.” + +“Save in the event of your being forbidden?” + +“Unless you shall forbid me, I will sing it, signore.” + +“Should they imprison you?--” + +“If they shoot me I shall be satisfied to know that I have sung a song +that cannot be forgotten.” + +The Chief took her hand in a gentle grasp. + +“Such as you will help to give our Italy freedom. You hold the sacred +flame, and know you hold it in trust.” + +“Friends,”--he turned to his companions,--“you have heard what will be +the signal for Milan.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +It was a surprise to all of them, save to Agostino Balderini, who passed +his inspecting glance from face to face, marking the effect of +the announcement. Corte gazed at her heavily, but not altogether +disapprovingly. Giulio Bandinelli and Marco Sana, though evidently +astonished, and to some extent incredulous, listened like the perfectly +trusty lieutenants in an enterprise which they were. But Carlo Ammiani +stood horror-stricken. The blood had left his handsome young olive-hued +face, and his eyes were on the signorina, large with amazement, from +which they deepened to piteousness of entreaty. + +“Signorina!--you! Can it be true? Do you know?--do you mean it?” + +“What, signor Carlo?” + +“This; will you venture to do such a thing?” + +“Oh, will I venture? What can you think of me? It is my own request.” + +“But, signorina, in mercy, listen and consider.” + +Carlo turned impetuously to the Chief. “The signorina can't know the +danger she is running. She will be seized on the boards, and shut up +between four walls before a man of us will be ready,--or more than one,” + he added softly. “The house is sure to be packed for a first night; and +the Polizia have a suspicion of her. She has been off her guard in the +Conservatorio; she has talked of a country called Italy; she has been +indiscreet;--pardon, pardon, signorina! but it is true that she has +spoken out from her noble heart. And this opera! Are they fools?--they +must see through it. It will never,--it can't possibly be reckoned on +to appear. I knew that the signorina was heart and soul with us; but +who could guess that her object was to sacrifice herself in the front +rank,--to lead a forlorn hope! I tell you it's like a Pagan rite. You +are positively slaying a victim. I beg you all to look at the case +calmly!” + +A burst of laughter checked him; for his seniors by many years could not +hear such veteran's counsel from a hurried boy without being shrewdly +touched by the humour of it, while one or two threw a particular irony +into their tones. + +“When we do slay a victim, we will come to you as our augur, my Carlo,” + said Agostino. + +Corte was less gentle. As a Milanese and a mere youth Ammiani was +antipathetic to Corte, who closed his laughter with a windy rattle of +his lips, and a “pish!” of some emphasis. + +Carlo was quick to give him a challenging frown. + +“What is it?” Corte bent his head back, as if inquiringly. + +“It's I who claim that question by right,” said Carlo. + +“You are a boy.” + +“I have studied war.” + +“In books.” + +“With brains, Colonel Corte.” + +“War is a matter of blows, my little lad.” + +“Let me inform you, signor Colonel, that war is not a game between +bulls, to be played with the horns of the head.” + +“You are prepared to instruct me?” The fiery Bergamasc lifted his +eyebrows. + +“Nay, nay!” said Agostino. “Between us two first;” and he grasped +Carlo's arm, saying in an underbreath, “Your last retort was too +long-winded. In these conflicts you must be quick, sharp as a +rifle-crack that hits echo on the breast-bone and makes her cry out. +I correct a student in the art of war.” Then aloud: “My opera, young +man!--well, it's my libretto, and you know we writers always say 'my +opera' when we have put the pegs for the voice; you are certainly aware +that we do. How dare you to make calumnious observations upon my opera? +Is it not the ripe and admirable fruit of five years of confinement? Are +not the lines sharp, the stanzas solid? and the stuff, is it not good? +Is not the subject simple, pure from offence to sensitive authority, +constitutionally harmless? Reply!” + +“It's transparent to any but asses,” said Carlo. + +“But if it has passed the censorship? You are guilty, my boy, of +bestowing upon those highly disciplined gentlemen who govern your famous +city--what title? I trust a prophetic one, since that it comes from an +animal whose custom is to turn its back before it delivers a blow, +and is, they remark, fonder of encountering dead lions than live ones. +Still, it is you who are indiscreet,--eminently so, I must add, if you +will look lofty. If my opera has passed the censorship! eh, what have +you to say?” + +Carlo endured this banter till the end of it came. + +“And you--you encourage her!” he cried wrathfully. “You know what the +danger is for her, if they once lay hands on her. They will have her +in Verona in four-and-twenty hours; through the gates of the Adige in a +couple of days, and at Spielberg, or some other of their infernal dens +of groans, within a week. Where is the chance of a rescue then? They +torture, too, they torture! It's a woman; and insult will be one mode of +torturing her. They can use rods--” + +The excited Southern youth was about to cover his face, but caught back +his hands, clenching them. + +“All this,” said Agostino, “is an evasion, manifestly, of the question +concerning my opera, on which you have thought proper to cast a slur. +The phrase, 'transparent to any but asses,' may not be absolutely +objectionable, for transparency is, as the critics rightly insist, +meritorious in a composition. And, according to the other view, if we +desire our clever opponents to see nothing in something, it is +notably skilful to let them see through it. You perceive, my Carlo. +Transparency, then, deserves favourable comment. So, I do not complain +of your phrase, but I had the unfortunate privilege of hearing it +uttered. The method of delivery scarcely conveyed a compliment. Will you +apologize?” + +Carlo burst from him with a vehement question to the Chief: “Is it +decided?” + +“It is, my friend,” was the reply. + +“Decided! She is doomed! Signorina! what can you know of this frightful +risk? You are going to the slaughter. You will be seized before the +first verse is out of your lips, and once in their clutches, you will +never breathe free air again. It's madness!--ah, forgive me!--yes, +madness! For you shut your eyes; you rush into the trap blindfolded. And +that is how you serve our Italy! She sees you an instant, and you are +caught away;--and you who might serve her, if you would, do you think +you can move dungeon walls?” + +“Perhaps, if I have been once seen, I shall not be forgotten,” said +the signorina smoothly, and then cast her eyes down, as if she felt the +burden of a little possible accusation of vanity in this remark. She +raised them with fire. + +“No; never!” exclaimed Carlo. “But, now you are ours. And--surely it is +not quite decided?” + +He had spoken imploringly to the Chief. “Not irrevocably?” he added. + +“Irrevocably!” + +“Then she is lost!” + +“For shame, Carlo Ammiani;” said old Agostino, casting his sententious +humours aside. “Do you not hear? It is decided! Do you wish to rob her +of her courage, and see her tremble? It's her scheme and mine: a case +where an old head approves a young one. The Chief says Yes! and you +bellow still! Is it a Milanese trick? Be silent.” + +“Be silent!” echoed Carlo. “Do you remember the beast Marschatska's +bet?” The allusion was to a black incident concerning a young Italian +ballet girl who had been carried off by an Austrian officer, under the +pretext of her complicity in one of the antecedent conspiracies. + +“He rendered payment for it,” said Agostino. + +“He perished; yes! as we shake dust to the winds; but she!--it's +terrible! You place women in the front ranks--girls! What can +defenceless creatures do? Would you let the van-regiment in battle be +the one without weapons? It's slaughter. She's like a lamb to them. You +hold up your jewel to the enemy, and cry, 'Come and take it.' Think +of the insults! think of the rough hands, and foul mouths! She will be +seized on the boards--” + +“Not if you keep your tongue from wagging,” interposed Ugo Corte, +fevered by this unseasonable exhibition of what was to him manifestly +a lover's frenzied selfishness. He moved off, indifferent to Carlo's +retort. Marco Sana and Giulio Bandinelli were already talking aside with +the Chief. + +“Signor Carlo, not a hand shall touch me,” said the signorina. “And I am +not a lamb, though it is good of you to think me one. I passed through +the streets of Milan in the last rising. I was unharmed. You must have +some confidence in me.” + +“Signorina, there's the danger,” rejoined Carlo. “You trust to your good +angels once, twice--the third time they fail you! What are you among +a host of armed savages? You would be tossed like weed on the sea. In +pity, do not look so scornfully! No, there is no unjust meaning in it; +but you despise me for seeing danger. Can nothing persuade you? And, +besides,” he addressed the Chief, who alone betrayed no signs of +weariness; “listen, I beg of you. Milan wants no more than a signal. She +does not require to be excited. I came charged with several proposals +for giving the alarm. Attend, you others! The night of the Fifteenth +comes; it is passing like an ordinary night. At twelve a fire-balloon is +seen in the sky. Listen, in the name of saints and devils!” + +But even the Chief was observed to show signs of amusement, and the +gravity of the rest forsook them altogether at the display of this +profound and original conspiratorial notion. + +“Excellent! excellent! my Carlo,” said old Agostino, cheerfully. “You +have thought. You must have thought, or whence such a conception? But, +you really mistake. It is not the garrison whom we desire to put on +their guard. By no means. We are not in the Imperial pay. Probably your +balloon is to burst in due time, and, wind permitting, disperse printed +papers all over the city?” + +“What if it is?” cried Carlo fiercely. + +“Exactly. I have divined your idea. You have thought, or, to correct the +tense, are thinking, which is more hopeful, though it may chance not to +seem so meritorious. But, if yours are the ideas of full-blown jackets, +bear in mind that our enemies are coated and breeched. It may be +creditable to you that your cunning is not the cunning of the serpent; +to us it would be more valuable if it were. Continue.” + +“Oh! there are a thousand ways.” Carlo controlled himself with a sharp +screw of all his muscles. “I simply wish to save the signorina from an +annoyance.” + +“Very mildly put,” Agostino murmured assentingly. + +“In our Journal,” said Carlo, holding out the palm of one hand to +dot the forefinger of the other across it, by way of personal +illustration--“in our Journal we might arrange for certain letters to +recur at distinct intervals in Roman capitals, which might spell out, +'This Night AT Twelve,' or 'At Once.'” + +“Quite as ingenious, but on the present occasion erring on the side of +intricacy. Aha! you want to increase the sale of your Journal, do you, +my boy? The rogue!” + +With which, and a light slap over Carlo's shoulder, Agostino left him. + +The aspect of his own futile proposals stared the young man in the face +too forcibly for him to nurse the spark of resentment which was struck +out in the turmoil of his bosom. He veered, as if to follow Agostino, +and remained midway, his chest heaving, and his eyelids shut. + +“Signor Carlo, I have not thanked you.” He heard Vittoria speak. “I know +that a woman should never attempt to do men's work. The Chief will tell +you that we must all serve now, and all do our best. If we fail, and +they put me to great indignity, I promise you that I will not live. I +would give this up to be done by anyone else who could do it better. It +is in my hands, and my friends must encourage me.” + +“Ah, signorina!” the young man sighed bitterly. The knowledge that he +had already betrayed himself in the presence of others too far, and the +sob in his throat labouring to escape, kept him still. + +A warning call from Ugo Corte drew their attention. Close by the chalet +where the first climbers of the mountain had refreshed themselves, Beppo +was seen struggling to secure the arms of a man in a high-crowned green +Swiss hat, who was apparently disposed to give the signorina's faithful +servant some trouble. After gazing a minute at this singular contention, +she cried--“It's the same who follows me everywhere!” + +“And you will not believe you are suspected,” murmured Carlo in her ear. + +“A spy?” Sana queried, showing keen joy at the prospect of scotching +such a reptile on the lonely height. Corte went up to the Chief. They +spoke briefly together, making use of notes and tracings on paper. The +Chief then said “Adieu” to the signorina. It was explained to the rest +by Corte that he had a meeting to attend near Pella about noon, and must +be in Fobello before midnight. Thence his way would be to Genoa. + +“So, you are resolved to give another trial to our crowned +ex-Carbonaro,” said Agostino. + +“Without leaving him an initiative this time!” and the Chief embraced +the old man. “You know me upon that point. I cannot trust him. I do not. +But, if we make such a tide in Lombardy that his army must be drawn into +it, is such an army to be refused? First, the tide, my friend! See to +that.” + +“The king is our instrument!” cried Carlo Ammiani, brightening. + +“Yes, if we were particularly well skilled in the use of that kind of +instrument,” Agostino muttered. + +He stood apart while the Chief said a few words to Carlo, which made the +blood play vividly across the visage of the youth. Carlo tried humbly +to expostulate once or twice. In the end his head was bowed, and he +signified a dumb acquiescence. + +“Once more, good-bye.” The Chief addressed the signorina in English. + +She replied in the same tongue, “Good-bye,” tremulously; and passion +mounting on it, added--“Oh! when shall I see you again?” + +“When Rome is purified to be a fit place for such as you.” + +In another minute he was hidden on the slope of the mountain lying +toward Orta. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +Beppo had effected a firm capture of his man some way down the slope. +But it was a case of check that entirely precluded his own free +movements. They hung together intertwisted in the characters of specious +pacificator and appealing citizen, both breathless. + +“There! you want to hand me up neatly; I know your vanity, my Beppo; and +you don't even know my name,” said the prisoner. + +“I know your ferret of a face well enough,” said Beppo. “You dog the +signorina. Come up, and don't give trouble.” + +“Am I not a sheep? You worry me. Let me go.” + +“You're a wriggling eel.” + +“Catch me fast by the tail then, and don't hold me by the middle.” + +“You want frightening, my pretty fellow!” + +“If that's true, my Beppo, somebody made a mistake in sending you to do +it. Stop a moment. You're blown. I think you gulp down your minestra too +hot; you drink beer.” + +“You dog the signorina! I swore to scotch you at last.” + +“I left Milan for the purpose--don't you see? Act fairly, my Beppo, and +let us go up to the signorina together decently.” + +“Ay, ay, my little reptile! You'll find no Austrians here. Cry out to +them to come to you from Baveno. If the Motterone grew just one tree! +Saints! one would serve.” + +“Why don't you--fool that you are, my Beppo!--pray to the saints +earlier? Trees don't grow from heaven.” + +“You'll be going there soon, and you'll know better about it.” + +“Thanks to the Virgin, then, we shall part at some time or other!” + +The struggles between them continued sharply during this exchange +of intellectual shots; but hearing Ugo Corte's voice, the prisoner's +confident audacity forsook him, and he drew a long tight face like the +mask of an admonitory exclamation addressed to himself from within. + +“Stand up straight!” the soldier's command was uttered. + +Even Beppo was amazed to see that the man had lost the power to obey or +to speak. + +Corte grasped him under the arm-pit. With the force of his huge fist he +swung him round and stretched him out at arm's length, all collar and +shanks. The man hung like a mole from the twig. Yet, while Beppo poured +out the tale of his iniquities, his eyes gave the turn of a twinkle, +showing that he could have answered one whom he did not fear. The +charge brought against him was, that for the last six months he had been +untiringly spying on the signorina. + +Corte stamped his loose feet to earth, shook him and told him to walk +aloft. The flexible voluble fellow had evidently become miserably +disconcerted. He walked in trepidation, speechless, and when +interrogated on the height his eyes flew across the angry visages with +dismal uncertainty. Agostino perceived that he had undoubtedly not +expected to come among them, and forthwith began to excite Giulio and +Marco to the worst suspicions, in order to indulge his royal poetic soul +with a study of a timorous wretch pushed to anticipations of extremity. + +“The execution of a spy,” he preluded, “is the signal for the ringing +of joy-bells on this earth; not only because he is one of a pestiferous +excess, in point of numbers, but that he is no true son of earth. He +escaped out of hell's doors on a windy day, and all that we do is to +puff out a bad light, and send him back. Look at this fellow in whom +conscience is operating so that he appears like a corked volcano! You +can see that he takes Austrian money; his skin has got to be the exact +colour of Munz. He has the greenish-yellow eyes of those elective, +thrice-abhorred vampyres who feed on patriot-blood. He is condemned +without trial by his villainous countenance, like an ungrammatical +preface to a book. His tongue refuses to confess, but nature is +stronger:--observe his knees. Now this is guilt. It is execrable guilt. +He is a nasty object. Nature has in her wisdom shortened his stature to +indicate that it is left to us to shorten the growth of his offending +years. Now, you dangling soul! answer me:--what name hailed you when on +earth?” + +The fan, with no clearly serviceable tongue, articulated, “Luigi.” + +“Luigi! the name Christian and distinctive. The name historic:-Luigi +Porco?” + +“Luigi Saracco, signore.” + +“Saracco: Saracco: very possibly a strip of the posterity of cut-throat +Moors. To judge by your face, a Moor undoubtedly: glib, slippery! with +a body that slides and a soul that jumps. Taken altogether, more serpent +than eagle. I misdoubt that little quick cornering eye of yours. Do you +ever remember to have blushed?” + +“No, signore,” said Luigi. + +“You spy upon the signorina, do you?” + +“You have Beppo's word for that,” interposed Marco Sana, growling. + +“And you are found spying on the mountain this particular day! Luigi +Saracco, you are a fellow of a tremendous composition. A goose walking +into a den of foxes is alone to be compared to you,--if ever such goose +was! How many of us did you count, now, when you were, say, a quarter of +a mile below?” + +Marco interposed again: “He has already seen enough up here to make a +rope of florins.” + +“The fellow's eye takes likenesses,” said Giulio. + +Agostino's question was repeated by Corte, and so sternly that Luigi, +beholding kindness upon no other face save Vittoria's, watched her, and +muttering “Six,” blinked his keen black eyes piteously to get her sign +of assent to his hesitated naming of that number. Her mouth and the turn +of her head were expressive to him, and he cried “Seven.” + +“So; first six, and next seven,” said Corte. + +“Six, I meant, without the signorina,” Luigi explained. + +“You saw six of us without the signorina! You see we are six here, +including the signorina. Where is the seventh?” + +Luigi tried to penetrate Vittoria's eyes for a proper response; but +she understood the grave necessity for getting the full extent of his +observations out of him, and she looked as remorseless as the men. He +feigned stupidity and sullenness, rage and cunning, in quick succession. + +“Who was the seventh?” said Carlo. + +“Was it the king?” Luigi asked. + +This was by just a little too clever; and its cleverness, being seen, +magnified the intended evasion so as to make it appear to them that +Luigi knew well the name of the seventh. + +Marco thumped a hand on his shoulder, shouting--“Here; speak out! You +saw seven of us. Where has the seventh one gone?” + +Luigi's wits made a dash at honesty. “Down Orta, signore.” + +“And down Orta, I think, you will go; deeper down than you may like.” + +Corte now requested Vittoria to stand aside. He motioned to her with his +hand to stand farther, and still farther off; and finally told Carlo to +escort her to Baveno. She now began to think that the man Luigi was in +some perceptible danger, nor did Ammiani disperse the idea. + +“If he is a spy, and if he has seen the Chief, we shall have to detain +him for at least four-and-twenty hours,” he said, “or do worse.” + +“But, Signor Carlo,”--Vittoria made appeal to his humanity,--“do they +mean, if they decide that he is guilty, to hurt him?” + +“Tell me, signorina, what punishment do you imagine a spy deserves?” + +“To be called one!” + +Carlo smiled at her lofty method of dealing with the animal. + +“Then you presume him to have a conscience?” + +“I am sure, Signor Carlo, that I could make him loathe to be called a +spy.” + +They were slowly pacing from the group, and were on the edge of the +descent, when the signorina's name was shrieked by Luigi. The man came +running to her for protection, Beppo and the rest at his heels. She +allowed him to grasp her hand. + +“After all, he is my spy; he does belong to me,” she said, still +speaking on to Carlo. “I must beg your permission, Colonel Corte and +Signor Marco, to try an experiment. The Signor Carlo will not believe +that a spy can be ashamed of his name.--Luigi!” + +“Signorina!”--he shook his body over her hand with a most plaintive +utterance. + +“You are my countryman, Luigi?” + +“Yes, signorina.” + +“You are an Italian?” + +“Certainly, signorina!” + +“A spy!” + +Vittoria had not always to lift her voice in music for it to sway the +hearts of men. She spoke the word very simply in a mellow soft tone. +Luigi's blood shot purple. He thrust his fists against his ears. + +“See, Signor Carlo,” she said; “I was right. Luigi, you will be a spy no +more?” + +Carlo Ammiani happened to be rolling a cigarette-paper. She put out +her fingers for it, and then reached it to Luigi, who accepted it with +singular contortions of his frame, declaring that he would confess +everything to her. “Yes, signorina, it is true; I am a spy on you. I +know the houses you visit. I know you eat too much chocolate for your +voice. I know you are the friend of the Signora Laura, the widow of +Giacomo Piaveni, shot--shot on Annunciation Day. The Virgin bless him! +I know the turning of every street from your house near the Duomo to +the signora's. You go nowhere else, except to the maestro's. And it's +something to spy upon you. But think of your Beppo who spies upon me! +And your little mother, the lady most excellent, is down in Baveno, and +she is always near you when you make an expedition. Signorina, I know +you would not pay your Beppo for spying upon me. Why does he do it? I +do not sing 'Italia, Italia shall be free!' I have heard you when I was +under the maestro's windows; and once you sang it to the Signor Agostino +Balderini. Indeed, signorina, I am a sort of guardian of your voice. It +is not gold of the Tedeschi I get from the Signor Antonio Pericles.” + +At the mention of this name, Agostino and Vittoria laughed out. + +“You are in the pay of the Signor Antonio-Pericles,” said Agostino. +“Without being in our pay, you have done us the service to come up here +among us! Bravo! In return for your disinterestedness, we kick you down, +either upon Baveno or upon Stresa, or across the lake, if you prefer +it.--The man is harmless. He is hired by a particular worshipper of the +signorina's voice, who affects to have first discovered it when she +was in England, and is a connoisseur, a millionaire, a Greek, a rich +scoundrel, with one indubitable passion, for which I praise him. We will +let his paid eavesdropper depart, I think. He is harmless.” + +Neither Ugo nor Marco was disposed to allow any description of spy to +escape unscotched. Vittoria saw that Luigi's looks were against him, and +whispered: “Why do you show such cunning eyes, Luigi?” + +He replied: “Signorina, take me out of their hearing, and I will tell +you everything.” + +She walked aside. He seemed immediately to be inspired with confidence, +and stretched his fingers in the form of a grasshopper, at which sight +they cried: “He knows Barto Rizzo--this rascal!” They plied him with +signs and countersigns, and speedily let him go. There ensued a sharp +snapping of altercation between Luigi and Beppo. Vittoria had to order +Beppo to stand back. + +“It is a poor dog, not of a good breed, signorina,” Luigi said, casting +a tolerant glance over his shoulder. “Faithful, but a poor nose. Ah! you +gave me this cigarette. Not the Virgin could have touched my marrow as +you did. That's to be remembered by-and-by. Now, you are going to sing +on the night of the fifteenth of September. Change that night. +The Signor Antonio-Pericles watches you, and he is a friend of the +Government, and the Government is snoring for you to think it asleep. +The Signor Antonio-Pericles pacifies the Tedeschi, but he will know all +that you are doing, and how easy it will be, and how simple, for you to +let me know what you think he ought to know, and just enough to keep +him comfortable! So we work like a machine, signorina. Only, not through +that Beppo, for he is vain of his legs, and his looks, and his service, +and because he has carried a gun and heard it go off. Yes; I am a spy. +But I am honest. I, too, have visited England. One can be honest and +a spy. Signorina, I have two arms, but only one heart. If you will +be gracious and consider! Say, here are two hands. One hand does this +thing, one hand does that thing, and that thing wipes out this thing. +It amounts to clear reasoning! Here are two eyes. Were they meant to +see nothing but one side! Here is a tongue with a line down the middle +almost to the tip of it--which is for service. That Beppo couldn't +deal double, if he would; for he is imperfectly designed--a mere dog's +pattern! But, only one heart, signorina--mind that. I will never +forget the cigarette. I shall smoke it before I leave the mountain, and +think--oh!” + +Having illustrated the philosophy of his system, Luigi continued: “I +am going to tell you everything. Pray, do not look on Beppo! This is +important. The Signor Antonio-Pericles sent me to spy on you, because he +expects some people to come up the mountain, and you know them; and +one is an Austrian officer, and he is an Englishman by birth, and he +is coming to meet some English friends who enter Italy from Switzerland +over the Moro, and easily up here on mules or donkeys from Pella. The +Signor Antonio-Pericles has gold ears for everything that concerns +the signorina. 'A patriot is she!' he says; and he is jealous of your +English friends. He thinks they will distract you from your studies; +and perhaps”--Luigi nodded sagaciously before he permitted himself to +say--“perhaps he is jealous in another way. I have heard him speak like +a sonnet of the signorina's beauty. The Signor Antonio-Pericles thinks +that you have come here to-day to meet them. When he heard that you +were going to leave Milan for Baveno, he was mad, and with two fists up, +against all English persons. The Englishman who is an Austrian officer +is quartered at Verona, and the Signor Antonio Pericles said that the +Englishman should not meet you yet, if he could help it.” + +Victoria stood brooding. “Who can it be,--who is an Englishman, and an +Austrian officer, and knows me?” + +“Signorina, I don't know names. Behold, that Beppo is approaching like +the snow! What I entreat is, that the signorina will wait a little for +the English party, if they come, so that I may have something to tell +my patron. To invent upon nothing is most unpleasant, and the Signor +Antonio can soon perceive whether one swims with corks. Signorina, I +can dance on one rope--I am a man. I am not a midge--I cannot dance upon +nothing.” + +The days of Vittoria's youth had been passed in England. It was not +unknown to her that old English friends were on the way to Italy; +the recollection of a quiet and a buried time put a veil across her +features. She was perplexed by the mention of the Austrian officer by +Luigi, as one may be who divines the truth too surely, but will not +accept it for its loathsomeness. There were Englishmen in the army of +Austria. Could one of them be this one whom she had cared for when she +was a girl? It seemed hatefully cruel to him to believe it. She spoke +to Agostino, begging him to remain with her on the height awhile to see +whether the Signor Antonio-Pericles was right; to see whether Luigi was +a truth-teller; to see whether these English persons were really coming. +“Because,” she said, “if they do come, it will at once dissolve any +suspicions you may have of this Luigi. And I always long so much to +know if the Signor Antonio is correct. I have never yet known him to be +wrong.” + +“And you want to see these English,” said Agostino. He frowned. + +“Only to hear them. They shall not recognize me. I have now another +name; and I am changed. My hat is enough to hide me. Let me hear them +talk a little. You and the Signor Carlo will stay with me, and when they +come, if they do come, I will remain no longer than just sufficient to +make sure. I would refuse to know any of them before the night of the +fifteenth; I want my strength too much. I shall have to hear a misery +from them; I know it, I feel it; it turns my blood. But let me hear +their voices! England is half my country, though I am so willing to +forget her and give all my life to Italy. Stay with me, dear friend, my +best father! humour me, for you know that I am always charming when I am +humoured.” + +Agostino pressed his finger on a dimple in her cheeks. “You can afford +to make such a confession as that to a greybeard. The day is your own. +Bear in mind that you are so situated that it will be prudent for you +to have no fresh relations, either with foreigners or others, until your +work is done,--in which, my dear child, may God bless you!” + +“I pray to him with all my might,” Vittoria said in reply. + +After a consultation with Agostino, Ugo Corte and Marco and Giulio bade +their adieux to her. The task of keeping Luigi from their clutches was +difficult; but Agostino helped her in that also. To assure them, after +his fashion, of the harmlessness of Luigi, he seconded him in a contest +of wit against Beppo, and the little fellow, now that he had shaken off +his fears, displayed a quickness of retort and a liveliness “unknown +to professional spies and impossible to the race,” said Agostino; “so +absolutely is the mind of man blunted by Austrian gold. We know that +for a fact. Beppo is no match for him. Beppo is sententious; ponderously +illustrative; he can't turn; he is long-winded; he, I am afraid, my +Carlo, studies the journals. He has got your journalistic style, wherein +words of six syllables form the relief to words of eight, and hardly one +dares to stand by itself. They are like huge boulders across a brook. +The meaning, do you, see, would run of itself, but you give us these +impedimenting big stones to help us over it, while we profess to +understand you by implication. For my part, I own, that to me, your +parliamentary, illegitimate academic, modern crocodile phraseology, +which is formidable in the jaws, impenetrable on the back, can't +circumvent a corner, and is enabled to enter a common understanding +solely by having a special highway prepared for it,--in short, the +writing in your journals is too much for me. Beppo here is an example +that the style is useless for controversy. This Luigi baffles him at +every step.” + +“Some,” rejoined Carlo, “say that Beppo has had the virtue to make you +his study.” + +Agostino threw himself on his back and closed his eyes. “That, then, is +more than you have done, signor Tuquoque. Look on the Bernina yonder, +and fancy you behold a rout of phantom Goths; a sleepy rout, new risen, +with the blood of old battles on their shroud-shirts, and a North-east +wind blowing them upon our fat land. Or take a turn at the other +side toward Orta, and look out for another invasion, by no means so +picturesque, but preferable. Tourists! Do you hear them?” + +Carlo Ammiani had descried the advanced troop of a procession of +gravely-heated climbers ladies upon donkeys, and pedestrian guards +stalking beside them, with courier, and lacqueys, and baskets of +provisions, all bearing the stamp of pilgrims from the great Western +Island. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +A mountain ascended by these children of the forcible Isle, is a +mountain to be captured, and colonized, and absolutely occupied for +a term; so that Vittoria soon found herself and her small body of +adherents observed, and even exclaimed against, as a sort of intruding +aborigines, whose presence entirely dispelled the sense of romantic +dominion which a mighty eminence should give, and which Britons expect +when they have expended a portion of their energies. The exclamations +were not complimentary; nevertheless, Vittoria listened with pleased +ears, as one listens by a brookside near an old home, hearing a music +of memory rather than common words. They talked of heat, of appetite, of +chill, of thirst, of the splendour of the prospect, of the anticipations +of good hotel accommodation below, of the sadness superinduced by the +reflection that in these days people were found everywhere, and poetry +was thwarted; again of heat, again of thirst, of beauty, and of chill. +There was the enunciation of matronly advice; there was the outcry +of girlish insubordination; there were sighings for English ale, and +namings of the visible ranges of peaks, and indicatings of geographical +fingers to show where Switzerland and Piedmont met, and Austria held her +grasp on Lombardy; and “to this point we go to-night; yonder to-morrow; +farther the next day,” was uttered, soberly or with excitement, as +befitted the age of the speaker. + +Among these tourists there was one very fair English lady, with long +auburn curls of the traditionally English pattern, and the science of +Paris displayed in her bonnet and dress; which, if not as graceful +as severe admirers of the antique in statuary or of the mediaeval in +drapery demand, pleads prettily to be thought so, and commonly succeeds +in its object, when assisted by an artistic feminine manner. Vittoria +heard her answer to the name of Mrs. Sedley. She had once known her as +a Miss Adela Pole. Amidst the cluster of assiduous gentlemen surrounding +this lady it was difficult for Vittoria's stolen glances to discern her +husband; and the moment she did discern him she became as indifferent +to him as was his young wife, by every manifestation of her sentiments. +Mrs. Sedley informed her lord that it was not expected of him to care, +or to pretend to care, for such scenes as the Motterone exhibited; and +having dismissed him to the shade of an umbrella near the provision +baskets, she took her station within a few steps of Vittoria, and +allowed her attendant gentlemen to talk while she remained plunged in a +meditative rapture at the prospect. The talk indicated a settled scheme +for certain members of the party to reach Milan from the Como road. +Mrs. Sedley was asked if she expected her brother to join her here or in +Milan. + +“Here, if a man's promises mean anything,” she replied languidly. + +She was told that some one waved a handkerchief to them from below. + +“Is he alone?” she said; and directing an operaglass upon the slope of +the mountain, pursued, as in a dreamy disregard of circumstances: “That +is Captain Gambier. My brother Wilfrid has not kept his appointment. +Perhaps he could not get leave from the General; perhaps he is married; +he is engaged to an Austrian Countess, I have heard. Captain Gambier did +me the favour to go round to a place called Stresa to meet him. He has +undertaken the journey for nothing. It is the way with all journeys +though this” (the lady had softly reverted to her rapture) “this is too +exquisite! Nature at least does not deceive.” + +Vittoria listened to a bubbling of meaningless chatter, until Captain +Gambier had joined Mrs. Sedley; and at him, for she had known him +likewise, she could not forbear looking up. He was speaking to Mrs. +Sedley, but caught the look, and bent his head for a clearer view of +the features under the broad straw hat. Mrs. Sedley commanded him +imperiously to say on. + +“Have you no letter from Wilfrid? Has the mountain tired you? Has +Wilfrid failed to send his sister one word? Surely Mr. Pericles will +have made known our exact route to him? And his uncle, General Pierson, +could--I am certain he did--exert his influence to procure him leave for +a single week to meet the dearest member of his family.” + +Captain Gambier gathered his wits to give serviceable response to the +kindled lady, and letting his eyes fall from time to time on the broad +straw hat, made answer--“Lieutenant Pierson, or, in other words, Wilfrid +Pole--” + +The lady stamped her foot and flushed. + +“You know, Augustus, I detest that name.” + +“Pardon me a thousandfold. I had forgotten.” + +“What has happened to you?” + +Captain Gambier accused the heat. + +“I found a letter from Wilfrid at the hotel. He is apparently kept on +constant service between Milan, and Verona, and Venice. His quarters are +at Verona. He informs me that he is to be married in the Spring; that +is, if all continues quiet; married in the Spring. He seems to fancy +that there may be disturbances; not of a serious kind, of course. He +will meet you in Milan. He has never been permitted to remain at Milan +longer than a couple of days at a stretch. Pericles has told him that +she is in Florence. Pericles has told me that Miss Belloni has removed +to Florence.” + +“Say it a third time,” the lady indulgently remarked. + +“I do not believe that she has gone.” + +“I dare say not.” + +“She has changed her name, you know.” + +“Oh, dear, yes; she has done something fantastic, naturally! For my +part, I should have thought her own good enough.” + +“Emilia Alessandra Belloni is good enough, certainly,” said Captain +Gambier. + +The shading straw rim had shaken once during the colloquy. It was now a +fixed defence. + +“What is her new name?” Mrs. Sedley inquired. + +“That I cannot tell. Wilfrid merely mentions that he has not seen her.” + +“I,” said Mrs. Sedley, “when I reach Milan, shall not trust to Mr. +Pericles, but shall write to the Conservatorio; for if she is going +to be a great cantatrice, really, it will be agreeable to renew +acquaintance with her. Nor will it do any mischief to Wilfrid, now that +he is engaged. Are you very deeply attached to straw hats? They are +sweet in a landscape.” + +Mrs. Sedley threw him a challenge from her blue eyes; but his reply to +it was that of an unskilled youth, who reads a lady by the letters of +her speech:--“One minute. I will be with you instantly. I want to have a +look down on the lake. I suppose this is one of the most splendid views +in Italy. Half a minute!” + +Captain Gambier smiled brilliantly; and the lady, perceiving that +polished shield, checked the shot of indignation on her astonished +features, and laid it by. But the astonishment lingered there, like the +lines of a slackened bow. She beheld her ideal of an English gentleman +place himself before these recumbent foreign people, and turn to talk +across them, with a pertinacious pursuit of the face under the bent +straw hat. Nor was it singular to her that one of them at last should +rise and protest against the continuation of the impertinence. + +Carlo Ammiani, in fact, had opened matters with a scrupulously-courteous +bow. + +“Monsieur is perhaps unaware that he obscures the outlook?” + +“Totally, monsieur,” said Captain Gambier, and stood fast. + +“Will monsieur do me the favour to take three steps either to the right +or to the left?” + +“Pardon, monsieur, but the request is put almost in the form of an +order.” + +“Simply if it should prove inefficacious in the form of a request.” + +“What, may I ask, monsieur, is your immediate object?” + +“To entreat you to behave with civility.” + +“I am at a loss, monsieur, to perceive any offence.” + +“Permit me to say, it is lamentable you do not know when you insult a +lady.” + +“I have insulted a lady?” Captain Gambier looked profoundly incredulous. +“Oh! then you will not take exception to my assuming the privilege to +apologize to her in person?” + +Ammiani arrested him as he was about to pass. + +“Stay, monsieur; you determine to be impudent, I perceive; you shall not +be obtrusive.” + +Vittoria had tremblingly taken old Agostino's hand, and had risen to her +feet. Still keeping her face hidden, she walked down the slope, followed +at an interval by her servant, and curiously watched by the English +officer, who said to himself, “Well, I suppose I was mistaken,” and +consequently discovered that he was in a hobble. + +A short duologue in their best stilted French ensued between him and +Ammiani. It was pitched too high in a foreign tongue for Captain Gambier +to descend from it, as he would fain have done, to ask the lady's name. +They exchanged cards and formal salutes, and parted. + +The dignified altercation had been witnessed by the main body of the +tourists. Captain Gambier told them that he had merely interchanged +amicable commonplaces with the Frenchman,--“or Italian,” he added +carelessly, reading the card in his hand. “I thought she might be +somebody whom we knew,” he said to Mrs. Sedley. + +“Not the shadow of a likeness to her,” the lady returned. + +She had another opinion when later a scrap of paper bearing one +pencilled line on it was handed round. A damsel of the party had picked +it up near the spot where, as she remarked, “the foreigners had been +sitting.” It said:-- + + “Let none who look for safety go to Milan.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A week following the day of meetings on the Motterone, Luigi the spy was +in Milan, making his way across the Piazza de' Mercanti. He entered a +narrow court, one of those which were anciently built upon the Oriental +principle of giving shade at the small cost of excluding common air. It +was dusky noon there through the hours of light, and thrice night when +darkness fell. The atmosphere, during the sun's short passage overhead, +hung with a glittering heaviness, like the twinkling iron-dust in a +subterranean smithy. On the lower window of one of the houses there +was a board, telling men that Barto Rizzo made and mended shoes, and +requesting people who wished to see him to make much noise at the door, +for he was hard of hearing. It speedily became known in the court that a +visitor desired to see Barto Rizzo. The noise produced by Luigi was +like that of a fanatical beater of the tomtom; he knocked and banged +and danced against the door, crying out for his passing amusement an +adaptation of a popular ballad:--“Oh, Barto, Barto! my boot is sadly +worn: The toe is seen that should be veiled from sight. The toe that +should be veiled like an Eastern maid: like a sultan's daughter: +Shocking! shocking! One of a company of ten that were living a secluded +life in chaste privacy! Oh, Barto, Barto! must I charge it to thy +despicable leather or to my incessant pilgrimages? One fair toe! I fear +presently the corruption of the remaining nine: Then, alas! what do I go +on? How shall I come to a perfumed end, who walk on ten indecent toes? +Well may the delicate gentlemen sneer at me and scorn me: As for the +angelic Lady who deigns to look so low, I may say of her that her +graciousness clothes what she looks at: To her the foot, the leg, the +back: To her the very soul is bared: But she is a rarity upon earth. Oh, +Barto, Barto, she is rarest in Milan! I might run a day's length and not +find her. If, O Barto, as my boot hints to me, I am about to be stripped +of my last covering, I must hurry to the inconvenient little chamber +of my mother, who cannot refuse to acknowledge me as of this pattern: +Barto, O shoemaker! thou son of artifice and right-hand-man of +necessity, preserve me in the fashion of the time: Cobble me neatly: A +dozen wax threads and I am remade:--Excellent! I thank you! Now I can +plant my foot bravely: Oh, Barto, my shoemaker! between ourselves, it +is unpleasant in these refined days to be likened at all to that +preposterous Adam!” + +The omission of the apostrophes to Barto left it one of the ironical, +veiled Republican, semi-socialistic ballads of the time, which were sung +about the streets for the sharpness and pith of the couplets, and not +from a perception of the double edge down the length of them. + +As Luigi was coming to the terminating line, the door opened. A very +handsome sullen young woman, of the dark, thick-browed Lombard type, +asked what was wanted; at the same time the deep voice of a man; +conjecturally rising from a lower floor, called, and a lock was rattled. +The woman told Luigi to enter. He sent a glance behind him; he had +evidently been drained of his sprightliness in a second; he moved in +with the slackness of limb of a gibbeted figure. The door shut; the +woman led him downstairs. He could not have danced or sung a song now +for great pay. The smell of mouldiness became so depressing to him that +the smell of leather struck his nostrils refreshingly. He thought: “Oh, +Virgin! it's dark enough to make one believe in every single thing they +tell us about the saints.” Up in the light of day Luigi had a turn for +careless thinking on these holy subjects. + +Barto Rizzo stood before him in a square of cellarage that was furnished +with implements of his craft, too dark for a clear discernment of +features. + +“So, here you are!” was the greeting Luigi received. + +It was a tremendous voice, that seemed to issue from a vast cavity. +“Lead the gentleman to my sitting-room,” said Barto. Luigi felt the wind +of a handkerchief, and guessed that his eyes were about to be bandaged +by the woman behind him. He petitioned to be spared it, on the plea, +firstly, that it expressed want of confidence; secondly, that it took +him in the stomach. The handkerchief was tight across his eyes while +he was speaking. His hand was touched by the woman, and he commenced +timidly an ascent of stairs. It continued so that he would have sworn +he was a shorter time going up the Motterone; then down, and along a +passage; lower down, deep into corpse-climate; up again, up another +enormous mountain; and once more down, as among rats and beetles, and +down, as among faceless horrors, and down, where all things seemed +prostrate and with a taste of brass. It was the poor fellow's nervous +imagination, preternaturally excited. When the handkerchief was caught +away, his jaw was shuddering, his eyes were sickly; he looked as if +impaled on the prongs of fright. It required just half a minute to +reanimate this mercurial creature, when he found himself under the +light of two lamps, and Barto Rizzo fronting him, in a place so like the +square of cellarage which he had been led to with unbandaged eyes, that +it relieved his dread by touching his humour. He cried, “Have I made the +journey of the Signor Capofinale, who visited the other end of the world +by standing on his head?” + +Barto Rizzo rolled out a burly laugh. + +“Sit,” he said. “You're a poor sweating body, and must needs have a dry +tongue. Will you drink?” + +“Dry!” quoth Luigi. “Holy San Carlo is a mash in a wine-press compared +with me.” + +Barto Rizzo handed him a liquor, which he drank, and after gave thanks +to Providence. Barto raised his hand. + +“We're too low down here for that kind of machinery,” he said. “They say +that Providence is on the side of the Austrians. Now then, what have you +to communicate to me? This time I let you come to my house trust at all, +trust entirely. I think that's the proverb. You are admitted: speak like +a guest.” + +Luigi's preference happened to be for categorical interrogations. Never +having an idea of spontaneously telling the whole truth, the sense that +he was undertaking a narrative gave him such emotions as a bad swimmer +upon deep seas may have; while, on the other hand, his being subjected +to a series of questions seemed at least to leave him with one leg +on shore, for then he could lie discreetly, and according to the +finger-posts, and only when necessary, and he could recover himself if +he made a false step. His ingenious mind reasoned these images out to +his own satisfaction. He requested, therefore, that his host would let +him hear what he desired to know. + +Barto Rizzo's forefinger was pressed from an angle into one temple. His +head inclined to meet it: so that it was like the support to a broad +blunt pillar. The cropped head was flat as an owl's; the chest of +immense breadth; the bulgy knees and big hands were those of a dwarf +athlete. Strong colour, lying full on him from the neck to the forehead, +made the big veins purple and the eyes fierier than the movements of his +mind would have indicated. He was simply studying the character of his +man. Luigi feared him; he was troubled chiefly because he was unaware of +what Barto Rizzo wanted to know, and could not consequently tell what +to bring to the market. The simplicity of the questions put to him was +bewildering: he fell into the trap. Barto's eyes began to get terribly +oblique. Jingling money in his pocket, he said:--“You saw Colonel Corte +on the Motterone: you saw the Signor Agostino Balderini: good men, both! +Also young Count Ammiani: I served his father, the General, and jogged +the lad on my knee. You saw the Signorina Vittoria. The English people +came, and you heard them talk, but did not understand. You came home and +told all this to the Signor Antonio, your employer number one. You have +told the same to me, your employer number two. There's your pay.” + +Barto summed up thus the information he had received, and handed Luigi +six gold pieces. The latter, springing with boyish thankfulness and +pride at the easy earning of them, threw in a few additional facts, as, +that he had been taken for a spy by the conspirators, and had heard one +of the Englishmen mention the Signorina Vittoria's English name. +Barto Rizzo lifted his eyebrows queerly. “We'll go through another +interrogatory in an hour,” he said; “stop here till I return.” + +Luigi was always too full of his own cunning to suspect the same in +another, until he was left alone to reflect on a scene; when it became +overwhelmingly transparent. “But, what could I say more than I did say?” + he asked himself, as he stared at the one lamp Barto had left. Finding +the door unfastened, he took the lamp and lighted himself out, and along +a cavernous passage ending in a blank wall, against which his heart +knocked and fell, for his sensation was immediately the terror of +imprisonment and helplessness. Mad with alarm, he tried every spot for +an aperture. Then he sat down on his haunches; he remembered hearing +word of Barto Rizzo's rack:--certain methods peculiar to Barto Rizzo, +by which he screwed matters out of his agents, and terrified them into +fidelity. His personal dealings with Barto were of recent date; but +Luigi knew him by repute: he knew that the shoemaking business was +a mask. Barto had been a soldier, a schoolmaster: twice an exile; a +conspirator since the day when the Austrians had the two fine Apples +of Pomona, Lombardy and Venice, given them as fruits of peace. Luigi +remembered how he had snapped his fingers at the name of Barto Rizzo. +There was no despising him now. He could only arrive at a peaceful +contemplation of Barto Rizzo's character by determining to tell all, +and (since that seemed little) more than he knew. He got back to +the leather-smelling chamber, which was either the same or purposely +rendered exactly similar to the one he had first been led to. + +At the end of a leaden hour Barto Rizzo returned. + +“Now, to recommence,” he said. “Drink before you speak, if your tongue +is dry.” + +Luigi thrust aside the mention of liquor. It seemed to him that by doing +so he propitiated that ill-conceived divinity called Virtue, who lived +in the open air, and desired men to drink water. Barto Rizzo evidently +understood the kind of man he was schooling to his service. + +“Did that Austrian officer, who is an Englishman, acquainted with the +Signor Antonio-Pericles, meet the lady, his sister, on the Motterone?” + +Luigi answered promptly, “Yes.” + +“Did the Signorina Vittoria speak to the lady?” + +“No.” + +“Not a word?” + +“No.” + +“Not one communication to her?” + +“No: she sat under her straw hat.” + +“She concealed her face?” + +“She sat like a naughty angry girl.” + +“Did she speak to the officer?” + +“Not she!” + +“Did she see him?” + +“Of course she did! As if a woman's eyes couldn't see through +straw-plait!” + +Barto paused, calculatingly, eye on victim. + +“The Signorina Vittoria,” he resumed, “has engaged to sing on the night +of the Fifteenth; has she?” + +A twitching of Luigi's muscles showed that he apprehended a necessary +straining of his invention on another tack. + +“On the night of the Fifteenth, Signor Barto Rizzo? That's the night of +her first appearance. Oh, yes!” + +“To sing a particular song?” + +“Lots of them! ay-aie!” + +Barto took him by the shoulder and pressed him into his seat till he +howled, saying, “Now, there's a slate and a pencil. Expect me at the +end of two hours, this time. Next time it will be four: then eight, +then sixteen. Find out how many hours that will be at the sixteenth +examination.” + +Luigi flew at the torturer and stuck at the length of his straightened +arm, where he wriggled, refusing to listen to the explanation of Barto's +system; which was that, in cases where every fresh examination taught +him more, they were continued, after regularly-lengthening intervals, +that might extend from the sowing of seed to the ripening of grain. +“When all's delivered,” said Barto, “then we begin to correct +discrepancies. I expect,” he added, “you and I will have done before a +week's out.” + +“A week!” Luigi shouted. “Here's my stomach already leaping like a fish +at the smell of this hole. You brute bear! it's a smell of bones. +It turns my inside with a spoon. May the devil seize you when you're +sleeping! You shan't go: I'll tell you everything--everything. I +can't tell you anything more than I have told you. She gave me a +cigarette--there! Now you know:--gave me a cigarette; a cigarette. I +smoked it--there! Your faithful servant!” + +“She gave you a cigarette, and you smoked it; ha!” said Barto Rizzo, who +appeared to see something to weigh even in that small fact. “The English +lady gave you the cigarette?” + +Luigi nodded: “Yes;” pertinacious in deception. “Yes,” he repeated; “the +English lady. That was the person. What's the use of your skewering me +with your eyes!” + +“I perceive that you have never travelled, my Luigi,” said Barto. “I am +afraid we shall not part so early as I had supposed. I double the dose, +and return to you in four hours' time.” + +Luigi threw himself flat on the ground, shrieking that he was ready +to tell everything--anything. Not even the apparent desperation of his +circumstances could teach him that a promise to tell the truth was a +more direct way of speaking. Indeed, the hitting of the truth would +have seemed to him a sort of artful archery, the burden of which should +devolve upon the questioner, whom he supplied with the relation of +“everything and anything.” + +All through a night Luigi's lesson continued. In the morning he was +still breaking out in small and purposeless lies; but Barto Rizzo +had accomplished his two objects: that of squeezing him, and that +of subjecting his imagination. Luigi confessed (owing to a singular +recovery of his memory) the gift of the cigarette as coming from the +Signorina Vittoria. What did it matter if she did give him a cigarette? + +“You adore her for it?” said Barto. + +“May the Virgin sweep the floor of heaven into her lap!” interjected +Luigi. “She is a good patriot.” + +“Are you one?” Barto asked. + +“Certainly I am.” + +“Then I shall have to suspect you, for the good of your country.” + +Luigi could not see the deduction. He was incapable of guessing that it +might apply forcibly to Vittoria, who had undertaken a grave, perilous, +and imminent work. Nothing but the spontaneous desire to elude the +pursuit of a questioner had at first instigated his baffling of Barto +Rizzo, until, fearing the dark square man himself, he feared him dimly +for Vittoria's sake; he could not have said why. She was a good patriot: +wherefore the reason for wishing to know more of her? Barto Rizzo had +compelled him at last to furnish a narrative of the events of that day +on the Motterone, and, finding himself at sea, Luigi struck out boldly +and swam as well as he could. Barto disentangled one succinct thread of +incidents: Vittoria had been commissioned by the Chief to sing on the +night of the Fifteenth; she had subsequently, without speaking to any of +the English party, or revealing her features “keeping them beautifully +hidden,” Luigi said, with unaccountable enthusiasm--written a warning to +them that they were to avoid Milan. The paper on which the warning had +been written was found by the English when he was the only Italian on +the height, lying thereto observe and note things in the service of +Barto Rizzo. The writing was English, but when one of the English +ladies--“who wore her hair like a planed shred of wood; like a torn +vine; like a kite with two tails; like Luxury at the Banquet, ready +to tumble over marble shoulders” (an illustration drawn probably from +Luigi's study of some allegorical picture,--he was at a loss to describe +the foreign female head-dress)--when this lady had read the writing, +she exclaimed that it was the hand of “her Emilia!” and soon after she +addressed Luigi in English, then in French, then in “barricade Italian” + (by which phrase Luigi meant that the Italian words were there, but +did not present their proper smooth footing for his understanding), and +strove to obtain information from him concerning the signorina, and +also concerning the chances that Milan would be an agitated city. Luigi +assured her that Milan was the peacefullest of cities--a pure babe. He +admitted his acquaintance with the Signorina Vittoria Campa, and denied +her being “any longer” the Emilia Alessandra Belloni of the English +lady. The latter had partly retained him in her service, having +given him directions to call at her hotel in Milan, and help her to +communicate with her old friend. “I present myself to her to-morrow, +Friday,” said Luigi. + +“That's to-day,” said Barto. + +Luigi clapped his hand to his cheek, crying wofully, “You've drawn, +beastly gaoler! a night out of my life like an old jaw-tooth.” + +“There's day two or three fathoms above us,” said Barto; “and hot coffee +is coming down.” + +“I believe I've been stewing in a pot while the moon looked so cool.” + Luigi groaned, and touched up along the sleeves of his arms: that which +he fancied he instantaneously felt. + +The coffee was brought by the heavy-browed young woman. Before she +quitted the place Barto desired her to cast her eyes on Luigi, and say +whether she thought she should know him again. She scarcely glanced, and +gave answer with a shrug of the shoulders as she retired. Luigi at the +time was drinking. He rose; he was about to speak, but yawned instead. +The woman's carelessly-dropped upper eyelids seemed to him to be reading +him through a dozen of his contortions and disguises, and checked the +idea of liberty which he associated with getting to the daylight. + +“But it is worth the money!” shouted Barto Rizzo, with a splendid +divination of his thought. “You skulker! are you not paid and fattened +to do business which you've only to remember, and it'll honey your legs +in purgatory? You're the shooting-dog of that Greek, and you nose +about the bushes for his birds, and who cares if any fellow, just for +exercise, shoots a dagger a yard from his wrist and sticks you in the +back? You serve me, and there's pay for you; brothers, doctors, nurses, +friends,--a tight blanket if you fall from a housetop! and masses for +your soul when your hour strikes. The treacherous cur lies rotting in a +ditch! Do you conceive that when I employ you I am in your power? Your +intelligence will open gradually. Do you know that here in this house +I can conceal fifty men, and leave the door open to the Croats to find +them? I tell you now--you are free; go forth. You go alone; no one +touches you; ten years hence a skeleton is found with an English letter +on its ribs--” + +“Oh, stop! signor Barto, and be a blessed man,” interposed Luigi, +doubling and wriggling in a posture that appeared as if he were shaking +negatives from the elbows of his crossed arms. “Stop. How did you know +of a letter? I forgot--I have seen the English lady at her hotel. I was +carrying the signorina's answer, when I thought 'Barto Rizzo calls me,' +and I came like a lamb. And what does it matter? She is a good patriot; +you are a good patriot; here it is. Consider my reputation, do; and be +careful with the wax.” + +Barto drew a long breath. The mention of the English letter had been a +shot in the dark. The result corroborated his devotional belief in the +unerringness of his own powerful intuition. He had guessed the case, or +hardly even guessed it--merely stated it, to horrify Luigi. The letter +was placed in his hands, and he sat as strongly thrilled by emotion, +under the mask of his hard face, as a lover hearing music. “I read +English,” he remarked. + +After he had drawn the seal three or four times slowly over the lamp, +the green wax bubbled and unsnapped. Vittoria had written the following +lines in reply to her old English friend:-- + + “Forgive me, and do not ask to see me until we have passed the + fifteenth of the month. You will see me that night at La Scala. I + wish to embrace you, but I am miserable to think of your being in + Milan. I cannot yet tell you where my residence is. I have not met + your brother. If he writes to me it will make me happy, but I + refuse to see him. I will explain to him why. Let him not try to + see me. Let him send by this messenger. I hope he will contrive to + be out of Milan all this month. Pray let me influence you to go for + a time. I write coldly; I am tired, and forget my English. I do + not forget my friends. I have you close against my heart. If it + were prudent, and it involved me alone, I would come to you without + a moment's loss of time. Do know that I am not changed, and am your + affectionate + + “Emilia.” + +When Barto Rizzo had finished reading, he went from the chamber and blew +his voice into what Luigi supposed to be a hollow tube. + +“This letter,” he said, coming back, “is a repetition of the Signorina +Vittoria's warning to her friends on the Motterone. The English lady's +brother, who is in the Austrian service, was there, you say?” + +Luigi considered that, having lately been believed in, he could not +afford to look untruthful, and replied with a sprightly “Assuredly.” + +“He was there, and he read the writing on the paper?” + +“Assuredly: right out loud, between puff-puff of his cigar.” + +“His name is Lieutenant Pierson. Did not Antonio-Pericles tell you his +name? He will write to her: you will be the bearer of his letter to the +signorina. I must see her reply. She is a good patriot; so am I; so are +you. Good patriots must be prudent. I tell you, I must see her reply +to this Lieutenant Pierson.” Barto stuck his thumb and finger astride +Luigi's shoulder and began rocking him gently, with a horrible +meditative expression. “You will have to accomplish this, my Luigi. All +fair excuses will be made, if you fail generally. This you must do. Keep +upright while I am speaking to you! The excuses will be made; but I, not +you, must make them: bear that in mind. Is there any person whom you, my +Luigi, like best in the world?” + +It was a winning question, and though Luigi was not the dupe of its +insinuating gentleness, he answered, “The little girl who carries +flowers every morning to the caffe La Scala.” + +“Ah! the little girl who carries flowers every morning to the caffe +La Scala. Now, my Luigi, you may fail me, and I may pardon you. Listen +attentively: if you are false; if you are guilty of one piece of +treachery:--do you see? You can't help slipping, but you can help +jumping. Restrain yourself from jumping, that's all. If you are guilty +of treachery, hurry at once, straight off, to the little girl who +carries flowers every morning to the caffe La Scala. Go to her, take +her by the two cheeks, kiss her, say to her 'addio, addio,' for, by the +thunder of heaven! you will never see her more.” + +Luigi was rocked forward and back, while Barto spoke in level tones, +till the voice dropped into its vast hollow, when Barto held him fast a +moment, and hurled him away by the simple lifting of his hand. + +The woman appeared and bound Luigi's eyes. Barto did not utter another +word. On his journey back to daylight, Luigi comforted himself by +muttering oaths that he would never again enter into this trap. As +soon as his eyes were unbandaged, he laughed, and sang, and tossed a +compliment from his finger-tips to the savage-browed beauty; pretended +that he had got an armful, and that his heart was touched by the +ecstasy; and sang again: “Oh, Barto, Barto! my boot is sadly worn. The +toe is seen,” etc., half-way down the stanzas. Without his knowing it, +and before he had quitted the court, he had sunk into songless gloom, +brooding on the scenes of the night. However free he might be in body, +his imagination was captive to Barto Rizzo. He was no luckier than a +bird, for whom the cage is open that it may feel the more keenly with +its little taste of liberty that it is tied by the leg. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +The importance of the matters extracted from Luigi does not lie on the +surface; it will have to be seen through Barto Rizzo's mind. This man +regarded himself as the mainspring of the conspiracy; specially its +guardian, its wakeful Argus. He had conspired sleeplessly for thirty +years; so long, that having no ideal reserve in his nature, conspiracy +had become his professional occupation,--the wheel which it was his +business to roll. He was above jealousy; he was above vanity. No one +outstripping him cast a bad colour on him; nor did he object to bow to +another as his superior. But he was prepared to suspect every one of +insincerity and of faithlessness; and, being the master of the machinery +of the plots, he was ready, upon a whispered justification, to +despise the orders of his leader, and act by his own light in blunt +disobedience. For it was his belief that while others speculated he knew +all. He knew where the plots had failed; he knew the man who had bent +and doubled. In the patriotic cause, perfect arrangements are +crowned with perfect success, unless there is an imperfection of the +instruments; for the cause is blessed by all superior agencies. Such was +his governing idea. His arrangements had always been perfect; hence the +deduction was a denunciation of some one particular person. He pointed +out the traitor here, the traitor there; and in one or two cases he +did so with a mildness that made those fret at their beards vaguely +who understood his character. Barto Rizzo was, it was said, born in +a village near Forli, in the dominions of the Pope; according to the +rumour, he was the child of a veiled woman and a cowled paternity. If +not an offender against Government, he was at least a wanderer early in +life. None could accuse him of personal ambition. He boasted that he +had served as a common soldier with the Italian contingent furnished +by Eugene to the Moscow campaign; he showed scars of old wounds: brown +spots, and blue spots, and twisted twine of white skin, dotting the +wrist, the neck, the calf, the ankle, and looking up from them, he +slapped them proudly. Nor had he personal animosities of any kind. One +sharp scar, which he called his shoulder knot, he owed to the knife of +a friend, by name Sarpo, who had things ready to betray him, and struck +him, in anticipation of that tremendous moment of surprise and wrath +when the awakened victim frequently is nerved with devil's strength; +but, striking, like a novice, on the bone, the stilet stuck there; and +Barto coolly got him to point the outlet of escape, and walked off, +carrying the blade where the terrified assassin had planted it. This +Sarpo had become a tradesman in Milan--a bookseller and small printer; +and he was unmolested. Barto said of him, that he was as bad as a few +odd persons thought himself to be, and had in him the making of a great +traitor; but, that as Sarpo hated him and had sought to be rid of him +for private reasons only, it was a pity to waste on such a fellow steel +that should serve the Cause. “While I live,” said Barto, “my enemies +have a tolerably active conscience.” + +The absence of personal animosity in him was not due to magnanimity. He +doubted the patriotism of all booksellers. He had been twice betrayed +by women. He never attempted to be revenged on them; but he doubted +the patriotism of all women. “Use them; keep eye on them,” he said. +In Venice he had conspired when he was living there as the clerk of +a notary; in Bologna subsequently while earning his bread as a petty +schoolmaster. His evasions, both of Papal sbirri and the Austrian +polizia, furnished instances of astonishing audacity that made his name +a byword for mastery in the hour of peril. His residence in Milan now, +after seven years of exile in England and Switzerland, was an act of +pointed defiance, incomprehensible to his own party, and only to be +explained by the prevalent belief that the authorities feared to provoke +a collision with the people by laying hands on him. They had only once +made a visitation to his house, and appeared to be satisfied at not +finding him. At that period Austria was simulating benevolence in her +Lombardic provinces, with the half degree of persuasive earnestness +which makes a Government lax in its vigilance, and leaves it simply +open to the charge of effeteness. There were contradictory rumours as +to whether his house had ever been visited by the polizia; but it was a +legible fact that his name was on the window, and it was understood that +he was not without elusive contrivances in the event of the authorities +declaring war against him. + +Of the nature of these contrivances Luigi had just learnt something. He +had heard Barto Rizzo called 'The Miner' and 'The Great Cat,' and he now +comprehended a little of the quality of his employer. He had entered +a very different service from that of the Signor Antonio-Pericles, who +paid him for nothing more than to keep eye on Vittoria, and recount her +goings in and out; for what absolute object he was unaware, but that it +was not for a political one he was certain. “Cursed be the day when the +lust of gold made me open my hand to Barto Rizzo!” he thought; and could +only reflect that life is short and gold is sweet, and that he was in +the claws of the Great Cat. He had met Barto in a wine-shop. He cursed +the habit which led him to call at that shop; the thirst which tempted +him to drink: the ear which had been seduced to listen. Yet as all his +expenses had been paid in advance, and his reward at the instant of +his application for it; and as the signorina and Barto were both good +patriots, and he, Luigi, was a good patriot, what harm could be done to +her? Both she and Barto had stamped their different impressions on +his waxen nature. He reconciled his service to them separately by the +exclamation that they were both good patriots. + +The plot for the rising in Milan city was two months old. It comprised +some of the nobles of the city, and enjoyed the good wishes of the +greater part of them, whose payment of fifty to sixty per cent to the +Government on the revenue of their estates was sufficient reason for +a desire to change masters, positively though they might detest +Republicanism, and dread the shadow of anarchy. These looked hopefully +to Charles Albert. Their motive was to rise, or to countenance a rising, +and summon the ambitious Sardinian monarch with such assurances of +devotion, that a Piedmontese army would be at the gates when the +banner of Austria was in the dust. Among the most active members of the +prospectively insurgent aristocracy of Milan was Count Medole, a young +nobleman of vast wealth and possessed of a reliance on his powers +of mind that induced him to take a prominent part in the opening +deliberations, and speedily necessitated his hire of the friendly +offices of one who could supply him with facts, with suggestions, with +counsel, with fortitude, with everything to strengthen his pretensions +to the leadership, excepting money. He discovered his man in Barto +Rizzo, who quitted the ranks of the republican section to serve him, and +wield a tool for his own party. By the help of Agostino Balderini, Carlo +Ammiani, and others, the aristocratic and the republican sections of +the conspiracy were brought near enough together to permit of a common +action between them, though the maintaining of such harmony demanded an +extreme and tireless delicacy of management. The presence of the Chief, +whom we have seen on the Motterone, was claimed by other cities of +Italy. Unto him solely did Barto Rizzo yield thorough adhesion. He being +absent from Milan, Barto undertook to represent him and carry out his +views. How far he was entitled to do so may be guessed when it is stated +that, on the ground of his general contempt for women, he objected to +the proposition that Vittoria should give the signal. The proposition +was Agostino's. Count Medole, Barto, and Agostino discussed it secretly: +Barto held resolutely against it, until Agostino thrust a sly-handed +letter into his fingers and let him know that previous to any +consultation on the subject he had gained the consent of his Chief. +Barto then fell silent. He despatched his new spy, Luigi, to the +Motterone, more for the purpose of giving him a schooling on the +expedition, and on his return from it, and so getting hand and brain +and soul service out of him. He expected no such a report of Vittoria's +indiscretion as Luigi had spiced with his one foolish lie. That she +should tell the relatives of an Austrian officer that Milan was soon to +be a dangerous place for them;--and that she should write it on paper +and leave it for the officer to read,--left her, according to Barto's +reading of her, open to the alternative charges of imbecility or of +treachery. Her letter to the English lady, the Austrian officer's +sister, was an exaggeration of the offence, but lent it more the look +of heedless folly. The point was to obtain sight of her letter to the +Austrian officer himself. Barto was baffled during a course of anxious +days that led closely up to the fifteenth. She had written no letter. +Lieutenant Pierson, the officer in question, had ridden into the city +once from Verona, and had called upon Antonio-Pericles to extract her +address from him; the Greek had denied that she was in Milan. Luigi +could tell no more. He described the officer's personal appearance, +by saying that he was a recognizable Englishman in Austrian dragoon +uniform;--white tunic, white helmet, brown moustache;--ay! and eh! and +oh! and ah! coming frequently from his mouth; that he stood square while +speaking, and seemed to like his own smile; an extraordinary touch of +portraiture, or else a scoff at insular self-satisfaction; at any rate, +it commended itself to the memory. Barto dismissed him, telling him to +be daily in attendance on the English lady. + +Barto Rizzo's respect for the Chief was at war with his intense +conviction that a blow should be struck at Vittoria even upon the narrow +information which he possessed. Twice betrayed, his dreams and haunting +thoughts cried “Shall a woman betray you thrice?” In his imagination +he stood identified with Italy: the betrayal of one meant that of +both. Falling into a deep reflection, Barto counted over his hours of +conspiracy: he counted the Chief's; comparing the two sets of figures he +discovered, that as he had suspected, he was the elder in the patriotic +work therefore, if he bowed his head to the Chief, it was a voluntary +act, a form of respect, and not the surrendering of his judgement. He +was on the spot: the Chief was absent. Barto reasoned that the Chief +could have had no experience of women, seeing that he was ready to trust +in them. “Do I trust to my pigeon, my sling-stone?” he said jovially to +the thickbrowed, splendidly ruddy young woman, who was his wife; “do I +trust her? Not half a morsel of her!” This young woman, a peasant woman +of remarkable personal attractions, served him with the fidelity of a +fascinated animal, and the dumbness of a wooden vessel. She could have +hanged him, had it pleased her. She had all his secrets: but it was not +vain speaking on Barto Rizzo's part; he was master of her will; and on +the occasions when he showed that he did not trust her, he was careful +at the same time to shock and subdue her senses. Her report of Vittoria +was, that she went to the house of the Signora, Laura Piaveni, widow of +the latest heroic son of Milan, and to that of the maestro Rocco Ricci; +to no other. It was also Luigi's report. + +“She's true enough,” the woman said, evidently permitting herself to +entertain an opinion; a sign that she required fresh schooling. + +“So are you,” said Barto, and eyed her in a way that made her ask, “Now, +what's for me to do?” + +He thought awhile. + +“You will see the colonel. Tell him to come in corporal's uniform. +What's the little wretch twisting her body for? Shan't I embrace her +presently if she's obedient? Send to the polizia. You believe your +husband is in the city, and will visit you in disguise at the corporal's +hour. They seize him. They also examine the house up to the point where +we seal it. Your object is to learn whether the Austrians are moving +men upon Milan. If they are-I learn something. When the house has been +examined, our court here will have rest for a good month ahead; and +it suits me not to be disturbed. Do this, and we will have a red-wine +evening in the house, shut up alone, my snake! my pepper-flower!” + +It happened that Luigi was entering the court to keep an appointment +with Barto when he saw a handful of the polizia burst into the house and +drag out a soldier, who was in the uniform, as he guessed it to be, of +the Prohaska regiment. The soldier struggled and offered money to +them. Luigi could not help shouting, “You fools! don't you see he's an +officer?” Two of them took their captive aside. The rest made a search +through the house. While they were doing so Luigi saw Barto Rizzo's +face at the windows of the house opposite. He clamoured at the door, but +Barto was denied to him there. When the polizia had gone from the court, +he was admitted and allowed to look into every room. Not finding him, he +said, “Barto Rizzo does not keep his appointments, then!” The same words +were repeated in his ear when he had left the court, and was in +the street running parallel with it. “Barto Rizzo does not keep his +appointments, then!” It was Barto who smacked him on the back, and spoke +out his own name with brown-faced laughter in the bustling street. Luigi +was so impressed by his cunning and his recklessness that he at once +told him more than he wished to tell:--The Austrian officer was with his +sister, and had written to the signorina, and Luigi had delivered the +letter; but the signorina was at the maestro's, Rocco Ricci's, and there +was no answer: the officer was leaving for Verona in the morning. After +telling so much, Luigi drew back, feeling that he had given Barto his +full measure and owed to the signorina what remained. + +Barto probably read nothing of the mind of his spy, but understood that +it was a moment for distrust of him. Vittoria and her mother lodged at +the house of one Zotti, a confectioner, dwelling between the Duomo and +La Scala. Luigi, at Barto's bidding, left word with Zotti that he would +call for the signorina's answer to a certain letter about sunrise. “I +promised my Rosellina, my poppyheaded sipper, a red-wine evening, or I +would hold this fellow under my eye till the light comes,” thought Barto +misgivingly, and let him go. Luigi slouched about the English lady's +hotel. At nightfall her brother came forth. Luigi directed him to be +in the square of the Duomo by sunrise, and slipped from his hold; the +officer ran after him some distance. “She can't say I was false to her +now,” said Luigi, dancing with nervous ecstasy. At sunrise Barto Rizzo +was standing under the shadow of the Duomo. Luigi passed him and went +to Zotti's house, where the letter was placed in his hand, and the +door shut in his face. Barto rushed to him, but Luigi, with a vixenish +countenance, standing like a humped cat, hissed, “Would you destroy my +reputation and have it seen that I deliver up letters, under the noses +of the writers, to the wrong persons?--ha! pestilence!” He ran, Barto +following him. They were crossed by the officer on horseback, who +challenged Luigi to give up the letter, which was very plainly being +thrust from his hand into his breast. The officer found it no difficult +matter to catch him and pluck the letter from him; he opened it, reading +it on the jog of the saddle as he cantered off. Luigi turned in a terror +of expostulation to ward Barto's wrath. Barto looked at him hard, while +he noted the matter down on the tablet of an ivory book. All he +said was, “I have that letter!” stamping the assertion with an oath. +Half-an-hour later Luigi saw Barto in the saddle, tight-legged about a +rusty beast, evidently bound for the South-eastern gate, his brows set +like a black wind. “Blessings on his going!” thought Luigi, and sang one +of his street-songs:--“O lemons, lemons, what a taste you leave in the +mouth! I desire you, I love you, but when I suck you, I'm all caught +up in a bundle and turn to water, like a wry-faced fountain. Why not be +satisfied by a sniff at the blossoms? There's gratification. Why did you +grow up from the precious little sweet chuck that you were, Marietta? +Lemons, O lemons! such a thing as a decent appetite is not known after +sucking at you.” + +His natural horror of a resolute man, more than fear (of which he had no +recollection in the sunny Piazza), made him shiver and gave his tongue +an acid taste at the prospect of ever meeting Barto Rizzo again. There +was the prospect also that he might never meet him again. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +IN VERONA + +The lieutenant read these lines, as he clattered through the quiet +streets toward the Porta Tosa: + +'DEAR FRIEND,--I am glad that you remind me of our old affection, for +it assures me that yours is not dead. I cannot consent to see you yet. I +would rather that we should not meet. + +'I thought I would sign my name here, and say, “God bless you, Wilfrid; +go!” + +'Oh! why have you done this thing! I must write on. It seems like my +past life laughing at me, that my old friend should have come here in +Italy, to wear the detestable uniform. How can we be friends when we +must act as enemies? We shall soon be in arms, one against the other. +I pity you, for you have chosen a falling side; and when you are beaten +back, you can have no pride in your country, as we Italians have; no +delight, no love. They will call you a mercenary soldier. I remember +that I used to have the fear of your joining our enemies, when we were +in England, but it seemed too much for my reason. + +'You are with a band of butchers. If I could see you and tell you the +story of Giacomo Piaveni, and some other things, I believe you would +break your sword instantly. + +'There is time. Come to Milan on the fifteenth. You will see me then. I +appear at La Scala. Promise me, if you hear me, that you will do exactly +what I make you feel it right to do. Ah, you will not, though thousands +will! But step aside to me, when the curtain falls, and remain--oh, dear +friend! I write in honour to you; we have sworn to free the city and the +country--remain among us: break your sword, tear off your uniform; we +are so strong that we are irresistible. I know what a hero you can be on +the field: then, why not in the true cause? I do not understand that +you should waste your bravery under that ugly flag, bloody and past +forgiveness. + +'I shall be glad to have news of you all, and of England. The bearer of +this is a trusty messenger, and will continue to call at the hotel. A. +is offended that I do not allow my messenger to give my address; but I +must not only be hidden, I must have peace, and forget you all until I +have done my task. Addio. We have both changed names. I am the same. Can +I think that you are? Addio, dear friend. + + 'VITTORIA.' + + +Lieutenant Pierson read again and again the letter of her whom he had +loved in England, to get new lights from it, as lovers do when they have +lost the power to take single impressions. He was the bearer of a verbal +despatch from the commandant in Milan to the Marshal in Verona. At that +period great favour was shown to Englishmen in the Austrian service, and +the lieutenant's uncle being a General of distinction, he had a sort of +semi-attachment to the Marshal's staff, and was hurried to and fro, +for the purpose of keeping him out of duelling scrapes, as many of his +friendlier comrades surmised. The right to the distinction of exercising +staff-duties is, of course, only to be gained by stout competitorship in +the Austrian service; but favour may do something for a young man even +in that rigorous school of Arms. He had to turn to Brescia on his way, +and calculated that if luck should put good horses under him, he would +enter Verona gates about sunset. Meantime; there was Vittoria's letter +to occupy him as he went. + +We will leave him to his bronzing ride through the mulberries and the +grapes, and the white and yellow and arid hues of the September plain, +and make acquaintance with some of his comrades of that proud army which +Vittoria thought would stand feebly against the pouring tide of Italian +patriotism. + +The fairest of the cities of the plain had long been a nest of foreign +soldiery. The life of its beauty was not more visible then than now. +Within the walls there are glimpses of it, that belong rather to the +haunting spirit than to the life. Military science has made a mailed +giant of Verona, and a silent one, save upon occasion. Its face grins +of war, like a skeleton of death; the salient image of the skull and +congregating worms was one that Italian lyrists applied naturally to +Verona. + +The old Field-Marshal and chief commander of the Austrian forces in +Lombardy, prompted by the counsels of his sagacious adlatus, the chief +of the staff, was engaged at that period in adding some of those ugly +round walls and flanking bastions to Verona, upon which, when Austria +was thrown back by the first outburst of the insurrection and the +advance of the Piedmontese, she was enabled to plant a sturdy hind-foot, +daring her foes as from a rock of defence. + +A group of officers, of the cavalry, with a few infantry uniforms +skirting them, were sitting in the pleasant cooling evening air, fanned +by the fresh springing breeze, outside one of the Piazza Bra caffes, +close upon the shadow of the great Verona amphitheatre. They were +smoking their attenuated long straw cigars, sipping iced lemonade or +coffee, and talking the common talk of the garrison officers, with +perhaps that additional savour of a robust immorality which a Viennese +social education may give. The rounded ball of the brilliant September +moon hung still aloft, lighting a fathomless sky as well as the fair +earth. It threw solid blackness from the old savage walls almost to a +junction with their indolent outstretched feet. Itinerant street music +twittered along the Piazza; officers walked arm-in-arm; now in moonlight +bright as day, now in a shadow black as night: distant figures twinkled +with the alternation. The light lay like a blade's sharp edge around the +massive circle. Of Italians of a superior rank, Verona sent none to +this resort. Even the melon-seller stopped beneath the arch ending the +Stradone Porta Nuova, as if he had reached a marked limit of his popular +customers. + +This isolation of the rulers of Lombardy had commenced in Milan, but, +owing to particular causes, was not positively defined there as it was +in Verona. War was already rageing between the Veronese ladies and the +officers of Austria. According to the Gallic Terpsichorean code, a +lady who permits herself to make election of her partners and to reject +applicants to the honour of her hand in the dance, when that hand is +disengaged, has no just ground of complaint if a glove should smite her +cheek. The Austrians had to endure this sort of rejection in Ballrooms. +On the promenade their features were forgotten. They bowed to statues. +Now, the officers of Austria who do not belong to a Croat regiment, +or to one drawn from any point of the extreme East of the empire, are +commonly gentlemanly men; and though they can be vindictive after much +irritation, they may claim at least as good a reputation for forbearance +in a conquered country as our officers in India. They are not +ill-humoured, and they are not peevishly arrogant, except upon +provocation. The conduct of the tender Italian dames was vexatious. It +was exasperating to these knights of the slumbering sword to hear their +native waltzes sounding of exquisite Vienna, while their legs stretched +in melancholy inactivity on the Piazza pavement, and their arms +encircled no ductile waists. They tried to despise it more than they +disliked it, called their female foes Amazons, and their male by a less +complimentary title, and so waited for the patriotic epidemic to pass. + +A certain Captain Weisspriess, of the regiment named after a sagacious +monarch whose crown was the sole flourishing blossom of diplomacy, +particularly distinguished himself by insisting that a lady should +remember him in public places. He was famous for skill with his weapons. +He waltzed admirably; erect as under his Field-Marshal's eye. In the +language of his brother officers, he was successful; that is, even +as God Mars when Bellona does not rage. Captain Weisspriess (Johann +Nepomuk, Freiherr von Scheppenhausen) resembled in appearance one in the +Imperial Royal service, a gambling General of Division, for whom +Fame had not yet blown her blast. Rumour declared that they might be +relatives; a little-scrupulous society did not hesitate to mention +how. The captain's moustache was straw-coloured; he wore it beyond the +regulation length and caressed it infinitely. Surmounted by a pair +of hot eyes, wavering in their direction, this grand moustache was a +feature to be forgotten with difficulty, and Weisspriess was doubtless +correct in asserting that his face had endured a slight equal to a +buffet. He stood high and square-shouldered; the flame of the moustache +streamed on either side his face in a splendid curve; his vigilant head +was loftily posted to detect what he chose to construe as insult, +or gather the smiles of approbation, to which, owing to the unerring +judgement of the sex, he was more accustomed. Handsome or not, he +enjoyed the privileges of masculine beauty. + +This captain of a renown to come pretended that a superb Venetian lady +of the Branciani family was bound to make response in public to his +private signals, and publicly to reply to his salutations. He refused to +be as a particle in space floating airily before her invincible aspect. +Meeting her one evening, ere sweet Italy had exiled herself from the +Piazza, he bowed, and stepping to the front of her, bowed pointedly. +She crossed her arms and gazed over him. He called up a thing to her +recollection in resonant speech. Shameful lie, or shameful truth, it was +uttered in the hearing of many of his brother officers, of three Italian +ladies, and of an Italian gentleman, Count Broncini, attending them. The +lady listened calmly. Count Broncini smote him on the face. That evening +the lady's brother arrived from Venice, and claimed his right to defend +her. Captain Weisspriess ran him through the body, and attached a +sinister label to his corpse. This he did not so much from brutality; +the man felt that henceforth while he held his life he was at war with +every Italian gentleman of mettle. Count Broncini was his next victim. +There, for a time, the slaughtering business of the captain stopped. +His brother officers of the better kind would not have excused him at +another season, but the avenger of their irritation and fine vindicator +of the merits of Austrian steel, had a welcome truly warm, when at the +termination of his second duel he strode into mess, or what serves for +an Austrian regimental mess. + +It ensued naturally that there was everywhere in Verona a sharp division +between the Italians of all classes and their conquerors. The great +green-rinded melons were never wheeled into the neighbourhood of the +whitecoats. Damsels were no longer coquettish under the military glance, +but hurried by in couples; and there was much scowling mixed with +derisive servility, throughout the city, hard to be endured without that +hostile state of the spirit which is the military mind's refuge in +such cases. Itinerant musicians, and none but this fry, continued to be +attentive to the dispensers of soldi. + +The Austrian army prides itself upon being a brotherhood. Discipline is +very strict, but all commissioned officers, when off duty, are as free +in their intercourse as big boys. The General accepts a cigar from the +lieutenant, and in return lifts his glass to him. The General takes an +interest in his lieutenant's love-affairs: nor is the latter shy when +he feels it his duty modestly to compliment his superior officer upon a +recent conquest. There is really good fellowship both among the officers +and in the ranks, and it is systematically encouraged. + +The army of Austria was in those days the Austrian Empire. Outside +the army the empire was a jealous congery of intriguing disaffected +nationalities. The same policy which played the various States against +one another in order to reduce all to subserviency to the central Head, +erected a privileged force wherein the sentiment of union was fostered +till it became a nationality of the sword. Nothing more fatal can be +done for a country; but for an army it is a simple measure of wisdom. +Where the password is MARCH, and not DEVELOP, a body of men, to be a +serviceable instrument, must consent to act as one. Hannibal is the +historic example of what a General can accomplish with tribes who are +thus, enrolled in a new citizenship; and (as far as we know of him and +his fortunes) he appears to be an example of the necessity of the fusing +fire of action to congregated aliens in arms. When Austria was fighting +year after year, and being worsted in campaign after campaign, she lost +foot by foot, but she held together soundly; and more than the baptism, +the atmosphere of strife has always been required to give her a healthy +vitality as a centralized empire. She knew it; this (apart from the +famous promptitude of the Hapsburgs) was one secret of her dauntless +readiness to fight. War did the work of a smithy for the iron and steel +holding her together; and but that war costs money, she would have been +an empire distinguished by aggressiveness. The next best medicinal thing +to war is the military occupation of insurgent provinces. The soldiery +soon feel where their home is, and feel the pride of atomies in unitive +power, when they are sneered at, hooted, pelted, stabbed upon a gross +misinterpretation of the slightest of moral offences, shamefully abused +for doing their duty with a considerate sense of it, and too accurately +divided from the inhabitants of the land they hold. In Italy, the +German, the Czech, the Magyar, the Croft, even in general instances the +Italian, clung to the standard for safety, for pay, for glory, and all +became pre-eminently Austrian soldiers; little besides. + +It was against a power thus bound in iron hoops, that Italy, +dismembered, and jealous, and corrupt, with an organization promoted by +passion chiefly, was preparing to rise. In the end, a country true to +itself and determined to claim God's gift to brave men will overmatch a +mere army, however solid its force. But an inspired energy of faith is +demanded of it. The intervening chapters will show pitiable weakness, +and such a schooling of disaster as makes men, looking on the surface +of things, deem the struggle folly. As well, they might say, let yonder +scuffling vagabonds up any of the Veronese side-streets fall upon the +patrol marching like one man, and hope to overcome them! In Vienna there +was often despair: but it never existed in the Austrian camp. Vienna was +frequently double-dealing and time-serving her force in arms was like +a trained man feeling his muscle. Thus, when the Government thought of +temporizing, they issued orders to Generals whose one idea was to strike +the blow of a mallet. + +At this period there was no suspicion of any grand revolt being in +process of development. The abounding dissatisfaction was treated as +nothing more than the Italian disease showing symptoms here and there, +and Vienna counselled measures mildly repressive,--'conciliating,' +it was her pleasure to call them. Her recent commands with respect to +turbulent Venice were the subject of criticism among the circle outside +the Piazza Gaffe. An enforced inactivity of the military legs will +quicken the military wits, it would appear, for some of the younger +officers spoke hotly as to their notion of the method of ruling Venezia. +One had bidden his Herr General to 'look here,' while he stretched forth +his hand and declared that Italians were like women, and wanted--yes, +wanted--(their instinct called for it) a beating, a real beating; as +the emphatic would say in our vernacular, a thundering thrashing, once a +month:-'Or so,' the General added acquiescingly. A thundering thrashing, +once a month or so, to these unruly Italians, because they are like +women! It was a youth who spoke, but none doubted his acquaintance with +women, or cared to suggest that his education in that department of +knowledge was an insufficient guarantee for his fitness to govern +Venezia. Two young dragoon officers had approached during the fervid +allocution, and after the salute to their superior, caught up chairs +and stamped them down, thereupon calling for the loan of anybody's +cigar-case. Where it is that an Austrian officer ordinarily keeps +this instrument so necessary to his comfort, and obnoxious, one would +suppose, to the rigid correctness of his shapely costume, we +cannot easily guess. None can tell even where he stows away his +pocket-handkerchief, or haply his purse. However, these things appear on +demand. Several elongated cigar-cases were thrust forward, and then it +was seen that the attire of the gallant youngsters was in disorder. + +'Did you hunt her to earth?' they were asked. + +The reply trenched on philosophy; and consisted in an inquiry as to who +cared for the whole basketful--of the like description of damsels, being +implied. Immoderate and uproarious laughter burst around them. Both +seemed to have been clawed impartially. Their tightfitting coats bulged +at the breast or opened at the waist, as though buttons were lacking, +and the whiteness of that garment cried aloud for the purification of +pipeclay. Questions flew. The damsel who had been pursued was known as +a pretty girl, the daughter of a blacksmith, and no prolonged resistance +was expected from one of her class. But, as it came out, she had said, +a week past, 'I shall be stabbed if I am seen talking to you'; and +therefore the odd matter was, not that she had, in tripping down the +Piazza with her rogue-eyed cousin from Milan, looked away and declined +all invitation to moderate her pace and to converse, but that, after +doubling down and about lonely streets, the length of which she ran as +swiftly as her feet would carry her, at a corner of the Via Colomba she +allowed herself to be caught--wilfully, beyond a doubt, seeing that she +was not a bit breathed--allowed one quick taste of her lips, and then +shrieked as naturally as a netted bird, and brought a hustling crowd +just at that particular point to her rescue: not less than fifty, and +all men. 'Not a woman among them!' the excited young officer repeated. + +A veteran in similar affairs could see that he had the wish to remain +undisturbed in his bewilderment at the damsel's conduct. Profound +belief in her partiality for him perplexed his recent experience rather +agreeably. Indeed, it was at this epoch an article of faith with the +Austrian military that nothing save terror of their males kept +sweet Italian women from the expression of their preference for the +broad-shouldered, thick-limbed, yellow-haired warriors--the contrast +to themselves which is supposed greatly to inspirit genial Cupid in the +selection from his quiver. + +'What became of her? Did you let her go?' came pestering remarks, too +absurd for replies if they had not been so persistent. + +'Let her go? In the devil's name, how was I to keep my hold of her in +a crowd of fifty of the fellows, all mowing, and hustling, and +elbowing--every rascal stinking right under my nose like the pit?' + +''Hem!' went the General present. 'As long as you did not draw! +Unsheathe, a minute.' + +He motioned for a sight of their naked swords. + +The couple of young officers flushed. + +'Herr General! Pardon!' they remonstrated. + +'No, no. I know how boys talk; I've been one myself. Tutt! You tell the +truth, of course; but the business is for me to know in what! how far! +Your swords, gentlemen.' + +'But, General!' + +'Well? I merely wish to examine the blades.' + +'Do you doubt our words?' + +'Hark at them! Words? Are you lawyers? A soldier deals in acts. I don't +want to know your words, but your deeds, my gallant lads. I want to look +at the blades of your swords, my children. What was the last order? That +on no account were we to provoke, or, if possibly to be avoided, accept +a collision, etc., etc. The soldier in peace is a citizen, etc. No sword +on any account, or for any excuse, to be drawn, etc. You all heard it? +So, good! I receive your denial, my children. In addition, I merely +desire to satisfy curiosity. Did the guard clear a way for you?' + +The answer was affirmative. + +'Your swords!' + +One of them drew, and proffered the handle. + +The other clasped the haft angrily, and with a resolute smack on it, +settled it in the scabbard. + +'Am I a prisoner, General?' + +'Not at all!' + +'Then I decline to surrender my sword.' + +Another General officer happened to be sauntering by. Applauding with +his hands, and choosing the Italian language as the best form of speech +for the enunciation of ironical superlatives, he said: + +'Eccellentemente! most admirable! of a distinguished loftiness of moral +grandeur: “Then I decline,” etc.: you are aware that you are quoting? +“as the drummerboy said to Napoleon.” I think you forgot to add that? It +is the same young soldier who utters these immense things, which we can +hardly get out of our mouths. So the little fellow towers! His moral +greatness is as noisy as his drum. What's wrong?' + +'General Pierson, nothing's wrong,' was replied by several voices; and +some explained that Lieutenant Jenna had been called upon by General +Schoneck to show his sword, and had refused. + +The heroic defender of his sword shouted to the officer with whom +General Pierson had been conversing: 'Here! Weisspriess!' + +'What is it, my dear fellow? Speak, my good Jenna!' + +The explanation was given, and full sympathy elicited from Captain +Weisspriess, while the two Generals likewise whispered and nodded. + +'Did you draw?' the captain inquired, yawning. 'You needn't say it +in quite so many words, if you did. I shall be asked by the General +presently; and owing to that duel pending 'twixt you and his nephew, of +which he is aware, he may put a bad interpretation on your pepperiness.' + +'The devil fetch his nephew!' returned the furious Lieutenant Jenna. 'He +comes back to-night from Milan, and if he doesn't fight me to-morrow, I +post him a coward. Well, about that business! My good Weisspriess, the +fellows had got into a thick crowd all round, and had begun to knead me. +Do you understand me? I felt their knuckles.' + +'Ah, good, good!' said the captain. 'Then, you didn't draw, of course. +What officer of the Imperial service would, under similar circumstances! +That is my reply to the Emperor, if ever I am questioned. To draw would +be to show that an Austrian officer relies on his good sword in +the thick of his enemies; against which, as you know, my Jenna, the +Government have issued an express injunction button. Did you sell it +dear?' + +'A fellow parted with his ear for it.' + +Lieutenant Jenna illustrated a particular cut from a turn of his wrist. + +'That oughtn't to make a noise?' he queried somewhat anxiously. + +'It won't hear one any longer, at all events,' said Captain Weisspriess; +and the two officers entered into the significance of the remark with +enjoyment. + +Meantime General Pierson had concluded an apparently humorous dialogue +with his brother General, and the later, now addressing Lieutenant +Jenna, said: 'Since you prefer surrendering your person rather than your +sword--it is good! Report yourself at the door of my room to-night, at +ten. I suspect that you have been blazing your steel, sir. They say, +'tis as ready to flash out as your temper.' + +Several voices interposed: 'General! what if he did draw!' + +'Silence. You have read the recent order. Orlando may have his +Durindarda bare; but you may not. Grasp that fact. The Government wish +to make Christians of you, my children. One cheek being smitten, what +should you do?' + +'Shall I show you, General?' cried a quick little subaltern. + +'The order, my children, as received a fortnight since from our old +Wien, commands you to offer the other cheek to the smiter.' + +'So that a proper balance may be restored to both sides of the face,' +General Pierson appended. + +'And mark me,' he resumed. 'There may be doubts about the policy of +anything, though I shouldn't counsel you to cherish them: but there's +no mortal doubt about the punishment for this thing.' The General spoke +sternly; and then relaxing the severity of his tone, he said, 'The +desire of the Government is to make an army of Christians.' + +'And a precious way of doing it!' interjected two or three of the +younger officers. They perfectly understood how hateful the Viennese +domination was to their chiefs, and that they would meet sympathy +and tolerance for any extreme of irony, provided that they showed a +disposition to be subordinate. For the bureaucratic order, whatever it +was, had to be obeyed. The army might, and of course did, know best: +nevertheless it was bound to be nothing better than a machine in the +hands of the dull closeted men in Vienna, who judged of difficulties +and plans of action from a calculation of numbers, or from foreign +journals--from heaven knows what! + +General Schoneck and General Pierson walked away laughing, and +the younger officers were left to themselves. Half-a-dozen of them +interlaced arms, striding up toward the Porta Nuova, near which, at the +corner of the Via Trinita, they had the pleasant excitement of beholding +a riderless horse suddenly in mid gallop sink on its knees and roll +over. A crowd came pouring after it, and from the midst the voice of +a comrade hailed them. 'It's Pierson,' cried Lieutenant Jenna. The +officers drew their swords, and hailed the guard from the gates. +Lieutenant Pierson dropped in among their shoulders, dead from want of +breath. They held him up, and finding him sound, thumped his back. The +blade of his sword was red. He coughed with their thumpings, and sang +out to them to cease; the idle mob which had been at his heels drew back +before the guard could come up with them. Lieutenant Pierson gave no +explanation except that he had been attacked near Juliet's tomb on his +way to General Schoneck's quarters. Fellows had stabbed his horse, and +brought him to the ground, and torn the coat off his back. He complained +in bitter mutterings of the loss of a letter therein, during the first +candid moments of his anger: and, as he was known to be engaged to the +Countess Lena von Lenkenstein, it was conjectured by his comrades that +this lady might have had something to do with the ravishment of the +letter. Great laughter surrounded him, and he looked from man to man. +Allowance is naturally made for the irascibility of a brother officer +coming tattered out of the hands of enemies, or Lieutenant Jenna would +have construed his eye's challenge on the spot. As it was, he cried out, +'The letter! the letter! Charge, for the honour of the army, and rescue +the letter!' Others echoed him: 'The letter! the letter! the English +letter!' A foreigner in an army can have as much provocation as he +pleases; if he is anything of a favourite with his superiors, his +fellows will task his forbearance. Wilfrid Pierson glanced at the blade +of his sword, and slowly sheathed it. 'Lieutenant Jenna is a good actor +before a mob,' he said. 'Gentlemen, I rely upon you to make no noise +about that letter; it is a private matter. In an hour or so, if any +officer shall choose to question me concerning it, I will answer him.' + +The last remnants of the mob had withdrawn. The officer in command at +the gates threw a cloak over Wilfrid's shoulders; and taking the arm of +a friend Wilfrid hurried to barracks, and was quickly in a position to +report himself to his General, whose first remark, 'Has the dead horse +been removed?' robbed him of his usual readiness to equivocate. 'When +you are the bearer of a verbal despatch, come straight to quarters, +if you have to come like a fig-tree on the north side of the wall in +Winter,' said General Schoneck, who was joined presently by General +Pierson. + +'What 's this I hear of some letter you have been barking about all +over the city?' the latter asked, after returning his nephew's on-duty +salute. + +Wilfrid replied that it was a letter of his sister's treating of family +matters. + +The two Generals, who were close friends, discussed the attack to which +he had been subjected. Wilfrid had to recount it with circumstance: how, +as he was nearing General Schoneck's quarters at a military trot, six +men headed by a leader had dashed out on him from a narrow side-street, +unhorsed him after a struggle, rifled the saddlebags, and torn the coat +from his back, and had taken the mark of his sword, while a gathering +crowd looked on, hooting. His horse had fled, and he confessed that he +had followed his horse. General Schoneck spoke the name of Countess Lena +suggestively. 'Not a bit,' returned General Pierson; 'the fellow courts +her too hotly. The scoundrels here want a bombardment; that 's where it +lies. A dose of iron pills will make Verona a healthy place. She must +have it.' + +General Schoneck said, 'I hope not,' and laughed at the heat of Irish +blood. He led Wilfrid in to the Marshal, after which Wilfrid was free to +seek Lieutenant Jenna, who had gained the right to a similar freedom by +pledging his honour not to fight within a stipulated term of days. The +next morning Wilfrid was roused by an orderly coming from his uncle, who +placed in his hands a copy of Vittoria's letter: at the end of it his +uncle had written, 'Rather astonishing. Done pretty well; but by a +foreigner. “Affection” spelt with one “f.” An Italian: you will see the +letters are emphatic at “ugly flag”; also “bloody and past forgiveness” + very large; the copyist had a dash of the feelings of a commentator, and +did his (or her) best to add an oath to it. Who the deuce, sir, is this +opera girl calling herself Vittoria? I have a lecture for you. German +women don't forgive diversions during courtship; and if you let this +Countess Lena slip, your chance has gone. I compliment you on your power +of lying; but you must learn to show your right face to me, or the very +handsome feature, your nose, and that useful box, your skull, will +come to grief. The whole business is a mystery. The letter (copy) was +directed to you, brought to me, and opened in a fit of abstraction, +necessary to commanding uncles who are trying to push the fortunes of +young noodles pretending to be related to them. Go to Countess Lena. +Count Paul is with her, from Bologna. Speak to her, and observe her and +him. He knows English--has been attached to the embassy in London; but, +pooh! the hand's Italian. I confess myself puzzled. We shall possibly +have to act on the intimation of the fifteenth, and profess to be +wiser than others. Something is brewing for business. See Countess Lena +boldly, and then come and breakfast with me.' + +Wilfrid read the miserable copy of Vittoria's letter, utterly unable to +resolve anything in his mind, except that he would know among a thousand +the leader of those men who had attacked him, and who bore the mark of +his sword. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE POPE'S MOUTH + +Barto Rizzo had done what he had sworn to do. He had not found it +difficult to outstrip the lieutenant (who had to visit Brescia on his +way) and reach the gates of Verona in advance of him, where he obtained +entrance among a body of grape-gatherers and others descending from the +hills to meet a press of labour in the autumnal plains. With them +he hoped to issue forth unchallenged on the following morning; but +Wilfrid's sword had made lusty play; and, as in the case when the order +has been given that a man shall be spared in life and limb, Barto and +his fellow-assailants suffered by their effort to hold him simply half a +minute powerless. He received a shrewd cut across the head, and lay for +a couple of hours senseless in the wine-shop of one Battista--one of +the many all over Lombardy who had pledged their allegiance to the Great +Cat, thinking him scarcely vulnerable. He read the letter, dizzy with +pain, and with the frankness proper to inflated spirits after loss of +blood, he owned to himself that it was not worth much as a prize. It was +worth the attempt to get possession of it, for anything is worth what +it costs, if it be only as a schooling in resolution, energy, and +devotedness:--regrets are the sole admission of a fruitless business; +they show the bad tree;--so, according to his principle of action, he +deliberated; but he was compelled to admit that Vittoria's letter was +little else than a repetition of her want of discretion when she was on +the Motterone. He admitted it, wrathfully: his efforts to convict this +woman telling him she deserved some punishment; and his suspicions being +unsatisfied, he resolved to keep them hungry upon her, and return to +Milan at once. As to the letter itself, he purposed, since the harm in +it was accomplished, to send it back honourably to the lieutenant, till +finding it blood-stained, he declined to furnish the gratification of +such a sight to any Austrian sword. For that reason, he copied it, while +Battista's wife held double bandages tight round his head: believing +that the letter stood transcribed in a precisely similar hand, he +forwarded it to Lieutenant Pierson, and then sank and swooned. Two days +he lay incapable and let his thoughts dance as they would. Information +was brought to him that the gates were strictly watched, and that troops +were starting for Milan. This was in the dull hour antecedent to the +dawn. 'She is a traitress!' he exclaimed, and leaping from his bed, as +with a brain striking fire, screamed, 'Traitress! traitress!' Battista +and his wife had to fling themselves on him and gag him, guessing him +as mad. He spoke pompously and theatrically; called himself the Eye of +Italy, and said that he must be in Milan, or Milan would perish, because +of the traitress: all with a great sullen air of composure and an odd +distension of the eyelids. When they released him, he smiled and thanked +them, though they knew, that had he chosen, he could have thrown off a +dozen of them, such was his strength. The woman went down on her knees +to him to get his consent that she should dress and bandage his head +afresh. The sound of the regimental bugles drew him from the house, +rather than any immediate settled scheme to watch at the gates. + +Artillery and infantry were in motion before sunrise, from various +points of the city, bearing toward the Palio and Zeno gates, and the +people turned out to see them, for it was a march that looked like the +beginning of things. The soldiers had green twigs in their hats, and +kissed their hands good-humouredly to the gazing crowd, shouting bits of +verses: + +'I'm off! I'm off! Farewell, Mariandl! if I come back a sergeant-major +or a Field-Marshal, don't turn up your nose at me: Swear you will be +faithful all the while; because, when a woman swears, it's a comfort, +somehow: Farewell! Squeeze the cow's udders: I shall be thirsty enough: +You pretty wriggler! don't you know, the first cup of wine and the +last, I shall float your name on it? Luck to the lads we leave behind! +Farewell, Mariandl!' + +The kindly fellows waved their hands and would take no rebuff. The +soldiery of Austria are kindlier than most, until their blood is up. +A Tyrolese regiment passed, singing splendidly in chorus. Songs of +sentiment prevailed, but the traditions of a soldier's experience of the +sex have informed his ballads with strange touches of irony, that help +him to his (so to say) philosophy, which is recklessness. The Tyroler's +'Katchen' here, was a saturnine Giulia, who gave him no response, either +of eye or lip. + +'Little mother, little sister, little sweetheart, 'ade! ade!' My little +sweetheart, your meadow is half-way up the mountain; it's such a green +spot on the eyeballs of a roving boy! and the chapel just above it, I +shall see it as I've seen it a thousand times; and the cloud hangs near +it, and moves to the door and enters, for it is an angel, not a cloud; a +white angel gone in to pray for Katerlein and me: Little mother, little +sister, little sweetheart, 'ade! ade!' Keep single, Katerlein, as long +as you can: as long as you can hold out, keep single: 'ade!'' + +Fifteen hundred men and six guns were counted as they marched on to one +gate. + +Barto Rizzo, with Battista and his wife on each side of him, were among +the spectators. The black cock's feathers of the Tyrolese were still +fluttering up the Corso, when the woman said, 'I 've known the tail of a +regiment get through the gates without having to show paper.' + +Battista thereupon asked Barto whether he would try that chance. The +answer was a vacuous shake of the head, accompanied by an expression +of unutterable mournfulness. 'There's no other way,' pursued Battista, +'unless you jump into the Adige, and swim down half-a-mile under water; +and cats hate water--eh, my comico?' + +He conceived that the sword-cut had rendered Barto imbecile, and pulled +his hat down his forehead, and patted his shoulder, and bade him have +cheer, patronizingly: but women do not so lightly lose their impression +of a notable man. His wife checked him. Barto had shut his eyes, and +hung swaying between them, as in drowsiness or drunkenness. Like his +body, his faith was swaying within him. He felt it borne upon the +reeling brain, and clung to it desperately, calling upon chance to aid +him; for he was weak, incapable of a physical or mental contest, and +this part of his settled creed that human beings alone failed the +patriotic cause as instruments, while circumstances constantly +befriended it--was shocked by present events. The image of Vittoria, +the traitress, floated over the soldiery marching on Milan through her +treachery. Never had an Austrian force seemed to him so terrible. He had +to yield the internal fight, and let his faith sink and be blackened, +in order that his mind might rest supine, according to his remembered +system; for the inspiration which points to the right course does not +come during mental strife, but after it, when faith summons its agencies +undisturbed--if only men will have the faith, and will teach themselves +to know that the inspiration must come, and will counsel them justly. +This was a part of Barto Rizzo's sustaining creed; nor did he lose his +grasp of it in the torment and the darkness of his condition. + +He heard English voices. A carriage had stopped almost in front of him. +A General officer was hat in hand, talking to a lady, who called him +uncle, and said that she had been obliged to decide to quit Verona on +account of her husband, to whom the excessive heat was unendurable. +Her husband, in the same breath, protested that the heat killed him. +He adorned the statement with all kinds of domestic and subterranean +imagery, and laughed faintly, saying that after the fifteenth--on which +night his wife insisted upon going to the Opera at Milan to hear a new +singer and old friend--he should try a week at the Baths of Bormio, and +only drop from the mountains when a proper temperature reigned, he being +something of an invalid. + +'And, uncle, will you be in Milan on the fifteenth?' said the lady; 'and +Wilfrid, too?' + +'Wilfrid will reach Milan as soon as you do, and I shall undoubtedly be +there on the fifteenth,' said the General. + +'I cannot possibly express to you how beautiful I think your army +looks,' said the lady. + +'Fine men, General Pierson, very fine men. I never saw such +marching--equal to our Guards,' her husband remarked. + +The lady named her Milanese hotel as the General waved his plumes, +nodded, and rode off. + +Before the carriage had started, Barto Rizzo dashed up to it; and 'Dear +good English lady,' he addressed her, 'I am the brother of Luigi, who +carries letters for you in Milan--little Luigi!--and I have a mother +dying in Milan; and here I am in Verona, ill, and can't get to her, poor +soul! Will you allow me that I may sit up behind as quiet as a mouse, +and be near one of the lovely English ladies who are so kind to +unfortunate persons, and never deaf to the name of charity? It's my +mother who is dying, poor soul!' + +The lady consulted her husband's face, which presented the total blank +of one who refused to be responsible for an opinion hostile to the +claims of charity, while it was impossible for him to fall in with +foreign habits of familiarity, and accede to extraordinary petitions. +Barto sprang up. 'I shall be your courier, dear lady,' he said, and +commenced his professional career in her service by shouting to the +vetturino to drive on. Wilfrid met them as he was trotting down from +the Porta del Palio, and to him his sister confided her new trouble in +having a strange man attached to her, who might be anything. 'We don't +know the man,' said her husband; and Adela pleaded for him: 'Don't speak +to him harshly, pray, Wilfrid; he says he has a mother dying in Milan.' +Barto kept his head down on his arms and groaned; Adela gave a doleful +little grimace. 'Oh, take the poor beggar,' said Wilfrid; and sang out +to him in Italian: 'Who are you--what are you, my fine fellow?' Barto +groaned louder, and replied in Swiss-French from a smothering depth: 'A +poor man, and the gracious lady's servant till we reach Milan.' + +'I can't wait,' said Wilfrid; 'I start in half-an-hour. It's all right; +you must take him now you've got him, or else pitch him out--one of the +two. If things go on quietly we shall have the Autumn manoeuvres in a +week, and then you may see something of the army.' He rode away. Barto +passed the gates as one of the licenced English family. + +Milan was more strictly guarded than when he had quitted it. He had +anticipated that it would be so, and tamed his spirit to submit to the +slow stages of the carriage, spent a fiery night in Brescia, and entered +the city of action on the noon of the fourteenth. Safe within the walls, +he thanked the English lady, assuring her that her charitable deed would +be remembered aloft. He then turned his steps in the direction of the +Revolutionary post-office. This place was nothing other than a blank +abutment of a corner house that had long been undergoing repair, and +had a great bank of brick and mortar rubbish at its base. A stationary +melonseller and some black fig and vegetable stalls occupied the +triangular space fronting it. The removal of a square piece of +cement showed a recess, where, chiefly during the night, letters and +proclamation papers were deposited, for the accredited postman to +disperse them. Hither, as one would go to a caffe for the news, Barto +Rizzo came in the broad glare of noon, and flinging himself down like a +tired man under the strip of shade, worked with a hand behind him, and +drew out several folded scraps, of which one was addressed to him by his +initials. He opened it and read: + +'Your house is watched. + +'A corporal of the P... ka regiment was seen leaving it this morning in +time for the second bugle. + +'Reply:--where to meet. + +'Spies are doubled, troops coming. + +'The numbers in Verona; who heads them. + +'Look to your wife. + +'Letters are called for every third hour.' + +Barto sneered indolently at this fresh evidence of the small amount of +intelligence which he could ever learn from others. He threw his eyes +all round the vacant space while pencilling in reply:--'V. waits for M., +but in a box' (that is, Verona for Milan). 'We take the key to her. + +'I have no wife, but a little pupil. + +'A Lieutenant Pierson, of the dragoons; Czech white coats, helmets +without plumes; an Englishman, nephew of General Pierson: speaks +crippled Italian; returns from V. to-day. Keep eye on him;--what house, +what hour.' + +Meditating awhile, Barto wrote out Vittoria's name and enclosed it in a +thick black ring. + +Beneath it he wrote + +'The same on all the play-bills. + +'The Fifteenth is cancelled. + +'We meet the day after. + +'At the house of Count M. to-night.' + +He secreted this missive, and wrote Vittoria's name on numbers of slips +to divers addresses, heading them, 'From the Pope's Mouth,' such being +the title of the Revolutionary postoffice, to whatsoever spot it might +in prudence shift. The title was entirely complimentary to his +Holiness. Tangible freedom, as well as airy blessings, were at that time +anticipated, and not without warrant, from the mouth of the successor of +St. Peter. From the Pope's Mouth the clear voice of Italian liberty was +to issue. This sentiment of the period was a natural and a joyful one, +and endowed the popular ebullition with a sense of unity and a stamp of +righteousness that the abstract idea of liberty could not assure to it +before martyrdom. After suffering, after walking in the shades of death +and despair, men of worth and of valour cease to take high personages as +representative objects of worship, even when these (as the good Pope was +then doing) benevolently bless the nation and bid it to have great hope, +with a voice of authority. But, for an extended popular movement a great +name is like a consecrated banner. Proclamations from the Pope's Mouth +exacted reverence, and Barto Rizzo, who despised the Pope (because he +was Pope, doubtless), did not hesitate to make use of him by virtue of +his office. + +Barto lay against the heap of rubbish, waiting for the approach of his +trained lad, Checco, a lanky simpleton, cunning as a pure idiot, who was +doing postman's duty, when a kick, delivered by that youth behind, +sent him bounding round with rage, like a fish in air. The marketplace +resounded with a clapping of hands; for it was here that Checco +came daily to eat figs, and it was known that the 'povero,' the dear +half-witted creature, would not tolerate an intruder in the place where +he stretched his limbs to peel and suck in the gummy morsels twice or +thrice a day. Barto seized and shook him. Checco knocked off his hat; +the bandage about the wound broke and dropped, and Barto put his hand to +his forehead, murmuring: 'What 's come to me that I lose my temper with +a boy--an animal?' + +The excitement all over the triangular space was hushed by an imperious +guttural shout that scattered the groups. Two Austrian officers, +followed by military servants, rode side by side. Dust had whitened +their mustachios, and the heat had laid a brown-red varnish on their +faces. Way was made for them, while Barto stood smoothing his forehead +and staring at Checco. + +'I see the very man!' cried one of the officers quickly. 'Weisspriess, +there's the rascal who headed the attack on me in Verona the other day. +It's the same! + +'Himmel!' returned his companion, scrutinizing the sword-cut, 'if that's +your work on his head, you did it right well, my Pierson! He is very +neatly scored indeed. A clean stroke, manifestly!' + +'But here when I left Milan! at Verona when I entered the North-west +gate there; and the first man I see as I come back is this very brute. +He dogs me everywhere! By the way, there may be two of them.' + +Lieutenant Pierson leaned over his horse's neck, and looked narrowly +at the man Barto Rizzo. He himself was eyed as in retort, and with yet +greater intentness. At first Barto's hand was sweeping the air within +a finger's length of his forehead, like one who fought a giddiness for +steady sight. The mist upon his brain dispersing under the gaze of his +enemy, his eyeballs fixed, and he became a curious picture of passive +malice, his eyes seeming to say: 'It is enough for me to know your +features, and I know them.' Such a look from a civilian is exasperating: +it was scarcely to be endured from an Italian of the plebs. + +'You appear to me to want more,' said the lieutenant audibly to himself; +and he repeated words to the same effect to his companion, in bad +German. + +'Eh? You would promote him to another epaulette?' laughed Captain +Weisspriess. 'Come off. Orders are direct against it. And we're in +Milan--not like being in Verona! And my good fellow! remember your bet; +the dozen of iced Rudesheimer. I want to drink my share, and dream I'm +quartered in Mainz--the only place for an Austrian when he quits Vienna. +Come.' + +'No; but if this is the villain who attacked me, and tore my coat from +my back,' cried Wilfrid, screwing in his saddle. + +'And took your letter took your letter; a particular letter; we have +heard of it,' said Weisspriess. + +The lieutenant exclaimed that he should overhaul and examine the man, +and see whether he thought fit to give him into custody. Weisspriess +laid hand on his bridle. + +'Take my advice, and don't provoke a disturbance in the streets. The +truth is, you Englishmen and Irishmen get us a bad name among these +natives. If this is the man who unhorsed you and maltreated you, and +committed the rape of the letter, I'm afraid you won't get satisfaction +out of him, to judge by his look. I'm really afraid not. Try it if you +like. In any case, if you halt, I am compelled to quit your society, +which is sometimes infinitely diverting. Let me remind you that you bear +despatches. The other day they were verbal ones; you are now carrying +paper.' + +'Are you anxious to teach me my duty, Captain Weisspriess?' + +'If you don't know it. I said I would “remind you.” I can also teach +you, if you need it.' + +'And I can pay you for the instruction, whenever you are disposed to +receive payment.' + +'Settle your outstanding claims, my good Pierson!' + +'When I have fought Jenna?' + +'Oh! you're a Prussian--a Prussian!' Captain Weisspriess laughed. 'A +Prussian, I mean, in your gross way of blurting out everything. I've +marched and messed with Prussians--with oxen.' + +'I am, as you are aware, an Englishman, Captain Weisspriess. I am due to +Lieutenant Jenna for the present. After that you or any one may command +me.' + +'As you please,' said Weisspriess, drawing out one stream of his +moustache. 'In the meantime, thank me for luring you away from the +chances of a street row.' + +Barto Rizzo was left behind, and they rode on to the Duomo. Glancing up +at its pinnacles, Weisspriess said: + +'How splendidly Flatschmann's jagers would pick them off from there, +now, if the dogs were giving trouble in this part of the city!' + +They entered upon a professional discussion of the ways and means of +dealing with a revolutionary movement in the streets of a city like +Milan, and passed on to the Piazza La Scala. Weisspriess stopped before +the Play-bills. 'To-morrow's the fifteenth of the month,' he said. +'Shall I tell you a secret, Pierson? I am to have a private peep at the +new prima donna this night. They say she's charming, and very pert. +“I do not interchange letters with Germans.” Benlomik sent her a neat +little note to the conservatorio--he hadn't seen her only heard of +her, and that was our patriotic reply. She wants taming. I believe I +am called upon for that duty. At least, my friend Antonio-Pericles, who +occasionally assists me with supplies, hints as much to me. You're +an engaged man, or, upon my honour, I wouldn't trust you; but between +ourselves, this Greek--and he's quite right--is trying to get her away +from the set of snuffy vagabonds who are prompting her for mischief, and +don't know how to treat her.' + +While he was speaking Barto Rizzo pushed roughly between them, and with +a black brush painted the circle about Vittoria's name. + +'Do you see that?' said Weisspriess. + +'I see,' Wilfrid retorted, 'that you are ready to meddle with the +reputation of any woman who is likely to be talked about. Don't do it in +my presence.' + +It was natural for Captain Weisspriess to express astonishment at this +outburst, and the accompanying quiver of Wilfrid's lip. + +'Austrian military etiquette, Lieutenant Pierson,' he said, 'precludes +the suspicion that the officers of the Imperial army are subject +to dissension in public. We conduct these affairs upon a different +principle. But I'll tell you what. That fellow's behaviour may be +construed as a more than common stretch of incivility. I'll do you a +service. I'll arrest him, and then you can hear tidings of your precious +letter. We'll have his confession published.' + +Weisspriess drew his sword, and commanded the troopers in attendance to +lay hands on Barto; but the troopers called, and the officer found that +they were surrounded. Weisspriess shrugged dismally. 'The brute must go, +I suppose,' he said. The situation was one of those which were every +now and then occurring in the Lombard towns and cities, when a chance +provocation created a riot that became a revolt or not, according to the +timidity of the ruling powers or the readiness of the disaffected. The +extent and evident regulation of the crowd operated as a warning to the +Imperial officers. Weisspriess sheathed his sword and shouted, 'Way, +there!' Way was made for him; but Wilfrid lingered to scrutinize the +man who, for an unaccountable reason, appeared to be his peculiar enemy. +Barto carelessly threaded the crowd, and Wilfrid, finding it useless to +get out after him, cried, 'Who is he? Tell me the name of that man?' The +question drew a great burst of laughter around him, and exclamations of +'Englishman! Englishman!' He turned where there was a clear way left for +him in the track of his brother officer. + +Comments on the petty disturbance had been all the while passing at the +Caffe La Scala, where sat Agostino Balderini, with, Count Medole and +others, who, if the order for their arrest had been issued, were as safe +in that place as in their own homes. Their policy, indeed, was to show +themselves openly abroad. Agostino was enjoying the smoke of paper +cigarettes, with all prudent regard for the well-being of an inflammable +beard. Perceiving Wilfrid going by, he said, 'An Englishman! I continue +to hope much from his countrymen. I have no right to do so, only they +insist on it. They have promised, and more than once, to sail a fleet +to our assistance across the plains of Lombardy, and I believe they +will--probably in the watery epoch which is to follow Metternich. Behold +my Carlo approaching. The heart of that lad doth so boil the brain of +him, he can scarcely keep the lid on. What is it now? Speak, my son.' + +Carlo Ammiani had to communicate that he had just seen a black circle +to Vittoria's name on two public playbills. His endeavour to ape a +deliberate gravity while he told the tale, roused Agostino's humouristic +ire. + +'Round her name?' said Agostino. + +'Yes; in every bill.' + +'Meaning that she is suspected!' + +'Meaning any damnable thing you like.' + +'It's a device of the enemy.' + +Agostino, glad of the pretext to recur to his habitual luxurious irony, +threw himself back, repeating 'It 's a device of the enemy. Calculate, +my son, that the enemy invariably knows all you intend to do: determine +simply to astonish him with what you do. Intentions have lungs, +Carlo, and depend on the circumambient air, which, if not designedly +treacherous, is communicative. Deeds, I need not remark, are a different +body. It has for many generations been our Italian error to imagine +a positive blood relationship--not to say maternity itself--existing +between intentions and deeds. Nothing of the sort! There is only the +intention of a link to unite them. You perceive? It's much to be famous +for fine intentions, so we won't complain. Indeed, it's not our business +to complain, but Posterity's; for fine intentions are really rich +possessions, but they don't leave grand legacies; that is all. They mean +to possess the future: they are only the voluptuous sons of the present. +It's my belief, Carlino, from observation, apprehension, and other gifts +of my senses, that our paternal government is not unacquainted with our +intention to sing a song in a certain opera. And it may have learnt +our clumsy method of enclosing names publicly, at the bidding of a +non-appointed prosecutor, so to, isolate or extinguish them. Who can +say? Oh, ay! Yes! the machinery that can so easily be made rickety is +to blame; we admit that; but if you will have a conspiracy like a Geneva +watch, you must expect any slight interference with the laws that +govern it to upset the mechanism altogether. Ah-a! look yonder, but +not hastily, my Carlo. Checco is nearing us, and he knows that he has +fellows after him. And if I guess right, he has a burden to deliver to +one of us.' + +Checco came along at his usual pace, and it was quite evident that he +fancied himself under espionage. On two sides of the square a suspicious +figure threaded its way in the line of shade not far behind him. Checco +passed the cafe looking at nothing but the huge hands he rubbed over and +over. The manifest agents of the polizia were nearing when Checco ran +back, and began mouthing as in retort at something that had been spoken +from the cafe as he shot by. He made a gabbling appeal on either side, +and addressed the pair of apparent mouchards, in what, if intelligible, +should have been the language of earnest entreaty. At the first word +which the caffe was guilty of uttering, a fit of exasperation seized +him, and the exciteable creature plucked at his hat and sent it whirling +across the open-air tables right through the doorway. Then, with +a whine, he begged his followers to get his hat back for him. They +complied. + +'We only called “Illustrissimo!”' said Agostino, as one of the men +returned from the interior of the caffe hat in hand. + +'The Signori should have known better--it is an idiot,' the man replied. +He was a novice: in daring to rebuke he betrayed his office. + +Checco snatched his hat from his attentive friend grinning, and was away +in a flash. Thereupon the caffe laughed, and laughed with an abashing +vehemence that disconcerted the spies. They wavered in their choice of +following Checco or not; one went a step forward, one pulled back; the +loiterer hurried to rejoin his comrade, who was now for a retrograde +movement, and standing together they swayed like two imperfectly jolly +fellows, or ballet bandits, each plucking at the other, until at last +the maddening laughter made them break, reciprocate cat-like hisses of +abuse, and escape as they best could--lamentable figures. + +'It says well for Milan that the Tedeschi can scrape up nothing better +from the gutters than rascals the like of those for their service,' +quoth Agostino. 'Eh, Signor Conte?' + +'That enclosure about La Vittoria's name on the bills is correct,' said +the person addressed, in a low tone. He turned and indicated one who +followed from the interior of the caffe. + +'If Barto is to be trusted she is not safe,' the latter remarked. He +produced a paper that had been secreted in Checco's hat. Under the date +and the superscription of the Pope's Mouth, 'LA VITTORIA' stood out in +the ominous heavily-pencilled ring: the initials of Barto Rizzo were in +a corner. Agostino began smoothing his beard. + +'He has discovered that she is not trustworthy,' said Count Medole, +a young man of a premature gravity and partial baldness, who spoke +habitually with a forefinger pressed flat on his long pointed chin. + +'Do you mean to tell me, Count Medole, that you attach importance to a +communication of this sort?' said Carlo, forcing an amazement to conceal +his anger. + +'I do, Count Ammiani,' returned the patrician conspirator. + +'You really listen to a man you despise?' + +'I do not despise him, my friend.' + +'You cannot surely tell us that you allow such a man, on his sole +authority, to blacken the character of the signorina?' + +'I believe that he has not.' + +'Believe? trust him? Then we are all in his hands. What can you mean? +Come to the signorina herself instantly. Agostino, you now conduct +Count Medole to her, and save him from the shame of subscribing to the +monstrous calumny. I beg you to go with our Agostino, Count Medole. It +is time for you--I honour you for the part you have taken; but it is +time to act according to your own better judgement.' + +Count Medole bowed. + +'The filthy rat!' cried Ammiani, panting to let out his wrath. + +'A serviceable dog,' Agostino remarked correctingly. 'Keep true to the +form of animal, Carlo. He has done good service in his time.' + +'You listen to the man?' Carlo said, now thoroughly amazed. + +'An indiscretion is possible to woman, my lad. She may have been +indiscreet in some way I am compelled to admit the existence of +possibilities.' + +'Of all men, you, Agostino! You call her daughter, and profess to love +her.' + +'You forget,' said Agostino sharply. 'The question concerns the country, +not the girl.' He added in an underbreath, 'I think you are professing +that you love her a little too strongly, and scarce give her much help +as an advocate. The matter must be looked into. If Barto shall be found +to have acted without just grounds, I am certain that Count Medole'--he +turned suavely to the nobleman--'will withdraw confidence from him; +and that will be equivalent to a rope's-end for Barto. We shall see him +to-night at your house?' + +'He will be there,' Medole said. + +'But the harm's done; the mischief's done! And what's to follow if you +shall choose to consider this vile idiot justified?' asked Ammiani. + +'She sings, and there is no rising,' said Medole. + +'She is detached from the patriotic battery, for the moment: it will be +better for her not to sing at all,' said Agostino. 'In fact, Barto has +merely given us warning that--and things look like it--the Fifteenth is +likely to be an Austrian feast-day. Your arm, my son. We will join you +to-night, my dear Count. Now, Carlo, I was observing, it appears to me +that the Austrians are not going to be surprised by us, and it affords +me exquisite comfort. Fellows prepared are never more than prepared +for one day and another day; and they are sure to be in a state of lax +preparation after a first and second disappointment. On the contrary, +fellows surprised'--Agostino had recovered his old smile again--'fellows +surprised may be expected to make use of the inspirations pertaining to +genius. Don't you see?' + +'Oh, cruel! I am sick of you all!' Carlo exclaimed. 'Look at her; think +of her, with her pure dream of Italy and her noble devotion. And you +permit a doubt to be cast on her!' + +'Now, is it not true that you have an idea of the country not being +worthy of her?' said Agostino, slyly. 'The Chief, I fancy, did not take +certain facts into his calculation when he pleaded that the conspiratrix +was the sum and completion of the conspirator. You will come to Medole's +to-night, Carlo. You need not be too sweet to him, but beware of +explosiveness. I, a Republican, am nevertheless a practical exponent +of the sacrifices necessary to unity. I accept the local leadership of +Medole--on whom I can never look without thinking of an unfeathered pie; +and I submit to be assisted by the man Barto Rizzo. Do thou likewise, my +son. Let your enamoured sensations follow that duty, and with a breezy +space between. A conspiracy is an epitome of humanity, with a boiling +power beneath it. You're no more than a bit of mechanism--happy if it +goes at all!' + +Agostino said that he would pay a visit to Vittoria in the evening. +Ammiani had determined to hunt out Barto Rizzo and the heads of the +Clubs before he saw her. It was a relief to him to behold in the Piazza +the Englishman who had exchanged cards with him on the Motterone. +Captain Gambier advanced upon a ceremonious bow, saying frankly, in a +more colloquial French than he had employed at their first interview, +that he had to apologize for his conduct, and to request monsieur's +excuse. 'If,' he pursued, 'that lady is the person whom I knew formerly +in England as Mademoiselle Belloni, and is now known as Mademoiselle +Vittoria Campa, may I beg you to inform her that, according to what +I have heard, she is likely to be in some danger to-morrow?' What the +exact nature of the danger was, Captain Gambier could not say. + +Ammiani replied: 'She is in need of all her friends,' and took the +pressure of the Englishman's hand, who would fair have asked more but +for the stately courtesy of the Italian's withdrawing salute. Ammiani +could no longer doubt that Vittoria's implication in the conspiracy was +known. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +LAURA PIAVENI + +After dark on the same day antecedent to the outbreak, Vittoria, with +her faithful Beppo at her heels, left her mother to run and pass one +comforting hour in the society of the Signora Laura Piaveni and her +children. + +There were two daughters of a parasitical Italian nobleman, of whom +one had married the patriot Giacomo Piaveni, and one an Austrian +diplomatist, the Commendatore Graf von Lenkenstein. Count Serabiglione +was traditionally parasitical. His ancestors all had moved in Courts. +The children of the House had illustrious sponsors. The House itself was +a symbolical sunflower constantly turning toward Royalty. Great excuses +are to be made for this, the last male descendant, whose father in +his youth had been an Imperial page, and who had been nursed in the +conception that Italy (or at least Lombardy) was a natural fief of +Austria, allied by instinct and by interest to the holders of the Alps. +Count Serabiglione mixed little with his countrymen,--the statement +might be inversed,--but when, perchance, he was among them, he talked +willingly of the Tedeschi, and voluntarily declared them to be gross, +obstinate, offensive-bears, in short. At such times he would intimate in +any cordial ear that the serpent was probably a match for the bear in +a game of skill, and that the wisdom of the serpent was shown in +his selection of the bear as his master, since, by the ordination of +circumstances, master he must have. The count would speak pityingly of +the poor depraved intellects which admitted the possibility of a coming +Kingdom of Italy united: the lunatics who preached of it he considered a +sort of self-elected targets for appointed files of Tyrolese jagers. +But he was vindictive against him whom he called the professional +doctrinaire, and he had vile names for the man. Acknowledging that +Italy mourned her present woes, he charged this man with the crime +of originating them:--and why? what was his object? He was, the count +declared in answer, a born intriguer, a lover of blood, mad for the +smell of it!--an Old Man of the Mountain; a sheaf of assassins; and +more--the curse of Italy! There should be extradition treaties all over +the world to bring this arch-conspirator to justice. The door of his +conscience had been knocked at by a thousand bleeding ghosts, and +nothing had opened to them. What was Italy in his eyes? A chess-board; +and Italians were the chessmen to this cold player with live flesh. +England nourished the wretch, that she might undermine the peace of the +Continent. + +Count Serabiglione would work himself up in the climax of denunciation, +and then look abroad frankly as one whose spirit had been relieved. +He hated bad men; and it was besides necessary for him to denounce +somebody, and get relief of some kind. Italians edged away from him. He +was beginning to feel that he had no country. The detested title 'Young +Italy' hurried him into fits of wrath. 'I am,' he said, 'one of the Old +Italians, if a distinction is to be made.' He assured his listeners +that he was for his commune, his district, and aired his old-Italian +prejudices delightedly; clapping his hands to the quarrels of Milan and +Brescia; Florence and Siena--haply the feuds of villages--and the common +North-Italian jealousy of the chief city. He had numerous capital tales +to tell of village feuds, their date and origin, the stupid effort +to heal them, and the wider consequent split; saying, 'We have, all +Italians, the tenacity, the unforgiveness, the fervent blood of pure +Hebrews; and a little more gaiety, perhaps; together with a love of fair +things. We can outlive ten races of conquerors.' + +In this fashion he philosophized, or forced a kind of philosophy. But he +had married his daughter to an Austrian, which was what his countrymen +could not overlook, and they made him feel it. Little by little, half +acquiescing, half protesting, and gradually denationalized, the count +was edged out of Italian society, save of the parasitical class, which +he very much despised. He was not a happy man. Success at the Imperial +Court might have comforted him; but a remorseless sensitiveness of his +nature tripped his steps. + +Bitter laughter rang throughout Lombardy when, in spite of his efforts +to save his daughter's husband, Giacomo Piaveni suffered death. No +harder blow had ever befallen the count: it was as good as a public +proclamation that he possessed small influence. To have bent the knee +was not afflicting to this nobleman's conscience: but it was an anguish +to think of having bent the knee for nothing. + +Giacomo Piaveni was a noble Italian of the young blood, son of a General +loved by Eugene. In him the loss of Italy was deplorable. He perished by +treachery at the age of twenty-three years. So splendid was this youth +in appearance, of so sweet a manner with women, and altogether so-gentle +and gallant, that it was a widowhood for women to have known him: and +at his death the hearts of two women who had loved him in rivalry became +bound by a sacred tie of friendship. He, though not of distinguished +birth, had the choice of an almost royal alliance in the first blush +of his manhood. He refused his chance, pleading in excuse to Count +Serabiglione, that he was in love with that nobleman's daughter, Laura; +which it flattered the count to hear, but he had ever after a contempt +for the young man's discretion, and was observed to shrug, with the +smooth sorrowfulness of one who has been a prophet, on the day when +Giacomo was shot. The larger estates of the Piaveni family, then in +Giacomo's hands, were in a famous cheese-making district, producing a +delicious cheese:--'white as lambkins!' the count would ejaculate most +dolefully; and in a rapture of admiration, 'You would say, a marble +quarry when you cut into it.' The theme was afflicting, for all the +estates of Giacomo were for the time forfeit, and the pleasant agitation +produced among his senses by the mention of the cheese reminded him at +the same instant that he had to support a widow with two children. The +Signora Piaveni lived in Milan, and the count her father visited her +twice during the summer months, and wrote to her from his fitful Winter +residences in various capital cities, to report progress in the settled +scheme for the recovery of Giacomo's property, as well for his widow +as for the heirs of his body. 'It is a duty,' Count Serabiglione said +emphatically. 'My daughter can entertain no proposal until her children +are duly established; or would she, who is young and lovely and archly +capricious, continue to decline the very best offers of the Milanese +nobility, and live on one flat in an old quarter of the city, instead of +in a bright and handsome street, musical with equipages, and full of the +shows of life?' + +In conjunction with certain friends of the signora, the count worked +diligently for the immediate restitution of the estates. He was ably +seconded by the young princess of Schyll-Weilingen,--by marriage +countess of Fohrendorf, duchess of Graatli, in central Germany, by which +title she passed,--an Austrian princess; she who had loved Giacomo, and +would have given all for him, and who now loved his widow. The extreme +and painful difficulty was that the Signora Piaveni made no concealment +of her abhorrence of the House of Austria, and hatred of Austrian rule +in Italy. The spirit of her dead husband had come to her from the grave, +and warmed a frame previously indifferent to anything save his personal +merits. It had been covertly communicated to her that if she performed +due submission to the authorities, and lived for six months in good +legal, that is to say, nonpatriotic odour, she might hope to have the +estates. The duchess had obtained this mercy for her, and it was much; +for Giacomo's scheme of revolt had been conceived with a subtlety of +genius, and contrived on a scale sufficient to incense any despotic lord +of such a glorious milch-cow as Lombardy. Unhappily the signora was more +inspired by the remembrance of her husband than by consideration for +her children. She received disaffected persons: she subscribed her money +ostentatiously for notoriously patriotic purposes; and she who, in her +father's Como villa, had been a shy speechless girl, nothing more than +beautiful, had become celebrated for her public letters, and the ardour +of declamation against the foreigner which characterized her style. In +the face of such facts, the estates continued to be withheld from her +governance. Austria could do that: she could wreak her spite against +the woman, but she respected her own law even in a conquered land: the +estates were not confiscated, and not absolutely sequestrated; and, +indeed, money coming from them had been sent to her for the education +of her children. It lay in unopened official envelopes, piled one upon +another, quarterly remittances, horrible as blood of slaughter in her +sight. Count Serabiglione made a point of counting the packets always +within the first five minutes of a visit to his daughter. He said +nothing, but was careful to see to the proper working of the lock of +the cupboard where the precious deposits were kept, and sometimes in +forgetfulness he carried off the key. When his daughter reclaimed it, +she observed, 'Pray believe me quite as anxious as yourself to preserve +these documents.' And the count answered, 'They represent the estates, +and are of legal value, though the amount is small. They represent your +protest, and the admission of your claim. They are priceless.' + +In some degree, also, they compensated him for the expense he was put +to in providing for his daughter's subsistence and that of her children. +For there, at all events, visible before his eyes, was the value of the +money, if not the money expended. He remonstrated with Laura for leaving +it more than necessarily exposed. She replied, + +'My people know what that money means!' implying, of course, that no one +in her house would consequently touch it. Yet it was reserved for the +count to find it gone. + +The discovery was made by the astounded nobleman on the day preceding +Vittoria's appearance at La Scala. His daughter being absent, he had +visited the cupboard merely to satisfy an habitual curiosity. The +cupboard was open, and had evidently been ransacked. He rang up the +domestics, and would have charged them all with having done violence +to the key, but that on reflection he considered this to be a way of +binding faggots together, and he resolved to take them one by one, like +the threading Jesuit that he was, and so get a Judas. Laura's return +saved him from much exercise of his peculiar skill. She, with a cool +'Ebbene!' asked him how long he had expected the money to remain +there. Upon which, enraged, he accused her of devoting the money to the +accursed patriotic cause. And here they came to a curious open division. + +'Be content, my father,' she said; 'the money is my husband's, and is +expended on his behalf.' + +'You waste it among the people who were the cause of his ruin!' her +father retorted. + +'You presume me to have returned it to the Government, possibly?' + +'I charge you with tossing it to your so-called patriots.' + +'Sir, if I have done that, I have done well.' + +'Hear her!' cried the count to the attentive ceiling; and addressing +her with an ironical 'madame,' he begged permission to inquire of her +whether haply she might be the person in the pay of Revolutionists +who was about to appear at La Scala, under the name of the Signorina +Vittoria. 'For you are getting dramatic in your pose, my Laura,' he +added, familiarizing the colder tone of his irony. 'You are beginning to +stand easily in attitudes of defiance to your own father.' + +'That I may practise how to provoke a paternal Government, you mean,' +she rejoined, and was quite a match for him in dialectics. + +The count chanced to allude further to the Signorina Vittoria. + +'Do you know much of that lady?' she asked. + +'As much as is known,' said he. + +They looked at one another; the count thinking, 'I gave to this girl an +excess of brains, in my folly!' + +Compelled to drop his eyes, and vexed by the tacit defeat, he pursued, +'You expect great things from her?' + +'Great,' said his daughter. + +'Well, well,' he murmured acquiescingly, while sounding within himself +for the part to play. 'Well-yes! she may do what you expect.' + +'There is not the slightest doubt of her capacity,' said his daughter, +in a tone of such perfect conviction that the count was immediately and +irresistibly tempted to play the part of sagacious, kindly, tolerant but +foreseeing father; and in this becoming character he exposed the risks +her party ran in trusting anything of weight to a woman. Not that he +decried women. Out of their sphere he did not trust them, and he simply +objected to them when out of their sphere: the last four words being +uttered staccato. + +'But we trust her to do what she has undertaken to do,' said Laura. + +The count brightened prodigiously from his suspicion to a certainty; and +as he was still smiling at the egregious trap his clever but unskilled +daughter had fallen into, he found himself listening incredulously to +her plain additional sentence:--'She has easy command of three octaves.' + +By which the allusion was transformed from politics to Art. Had Laura +reserved this cunning turn a little further, yielding to the natural +temptation to increase the shock of the antithetical battery, she would +have betrayed herself: but it came at the right moment: the count gave +up his arms. He told her that this Signorina Vittoria was suspected. +'Whom will they not suspect!' interjected Laura. He assured her that +if a conspiracy had ripened it must fail. She was to believe that he +abhorred the part of a spy or informer, but he was bound, since she was +reckless, to watch over his daughter; and also bound, that he might +be of service to her, to earn by service to others as much power as +he could reasonably hope to obtain. Laura signified that he argued +excellently well. In a fit of unjustified doubt of her sincerity, he +complained, with a querulous snap: + +'You have your own ideas; you have your own ideas. You think me this and +that. A man must be employed.' + +'And this is to account for your occupation?' she remarked. + +'Employed, I say!' the count reiterated fretfully. He was unmasking to +no purpose, and felt himself as on a slope, having given his adversary +vantage. + +'So that there is no choice for you, do you mean?' + +The count set up a staggering affirmative, but knocked it over with its +natural enemy as soon as his daughter had said, 'Not being for Italy, +you must necessarily be against her:--I admit that to be the position!' + +'No!' he cried; 'no: there is no question of “for” or “against,” as you +are aware. “Italy, and not Revolution”: that is my motto.' + +'Or, in other words, “The impossible,”' said Laura. 'A perfect motto!' + +Again the count looked at her, with the remorseful thought: 'I certainly +gave you too much brains.' + +He smiled: 'If you could only believe it not impossible!' + +'Do you really imagine that “Italy without Revolution” does not mean +“Austria”?' she inquired. + +She had discovered how much he, and therefore his party, suspected, and +now she had reasons for wishing him away. Not daring to show symptoms +of restlessness, she offered him the chance of recovering himself on +the crutches of an explanation. He accepted the assistance, praising +his wits for their sprightly divination, and went through a long-winded +statement of his views for the welfare of Italy, quoting his favourite +Berni frequently, and forcing the occasion for that jolly poet. Laura +gave quiet attention to all, and when he was exhausted at the close, +said meditatively, 'Yes. Well; you are older. It may seem to you that I +shall think as you do when I have had a similar, or the same, length of +experience.' + +This provoking reply caused her father to jump up from his chair and +spin round for his hat. She rose to speed him forth. + +'It may seem to me!' he kept muttering. 'It may seem to me that when a +daughter gets married--addio! she is nothing but her husband.' + +'Ay! ay! if it might be so!' the signora wailed out. + +The count hated tears, considering them a clog to all useful machinery. +He was departing, when through the open window a noise of scuffling in +the street below arrested him. + +'Has it commenced?' he said, starting. + +'What?' asked the signora, coolly; and made him pause. + +'But-but-but!' he answered, and had the grace to spare her ears. The +thought in him was: 'But that I had some faith in my wife, and don't +admire the devil sufficiently, I would accuse him point-blank, for, by +Bacchus! you are as clever as he.' + +It is a point in the education of parents that they should learn +to apprehend humbly the compliment of being outwitted by their own +offspring. + +Count Serabiglione leaned out of the window and saw that his horses were +safe and the coachman handy. There were two separate engagements going +on between angry twisting couples. + +'Is there a habitable town in Italy?' the count exclaimed frenziedly. +First he called to his coachman to drive away, next to wait as if nailed +to the spot. He cursed the revolutionary spirit as the mother of vices. +While he was gazing at the fray, the door behind him opened, as he knew +by the rush of cool air which struck his temples. He fancied that his +daughter was hurrying off in obedience to a signal, and turned upon her +just as Laura was motioning to a female figure in the doorway to retire. + +'Who is this?' said the count. + +A veil was over the strange lady's head. She was excited, and breathed +quickly. The count brought forward a chair to her, and put on his best +court manner. Laura caressed her, whispering, ere she replied: 'The +Signorina Vittoria Romana!--Biancolla!--Benarriva!' and numerous other +names of inventive endearment. But the count was too sharp to be thrown +off the scent. 'Aha!' he said, 'do I see her one evening before the term +appointed?' and bowed profoundly. 'The Signorina Vittoria!' + +She threw up her veil. + +'Success is certain,' he remarked and applauded, holding one hand as a +snuff-box for the fingers of the other to tap on. + +'Signor Conte, you--must not praise me before you have heard me.' + +'To have seen you!' + +'The voice has a wider dominion, Signor Conte.' + +'The fame of the signorina's beauty will soon be far wider. Was Venus a +cantatrice?' + +She blushed, being unable to continue this sort of Mayfly-shooting +dialogue, but her first charming readiness had affected the proficient +social gentleman very pleasantly, and with fascinated eyes he hummed +and buzzed about her like a moth at a lamp. Suddenly his head dived: +'Nothing, nothing, signorina,' he said, brushing delicately at her +dress; 'I thought it might be paint.' He smiled to reassure her, and +then he dived again, murmuring: 'It must be something sticking to the +dress. Pardon me.' With that he went to the bell. 'I will ring up my +daughter's maid. Or Laura--where is Laura?' + +The Signora Piaveni had walked to the window. This antiquated fussiness +of the dilettante little nobleman was sickening to her. + +'Probably you expect to discover a revolutionary symbol in the lines of +the signorina's dress,' she said. + +'A revolutionary symbol!--my dear! my dear!' The count reproved his +daughter. 'Is not our signorina a pure artist, accomplishing easily +three octaves? aha! Three!' and he rubbed his hands. 'But, three good +octaves!' he addressed Vittoria seriously and admonishingly. 'It is a +fortune-millions! It is precisely the very grandest heritage! It is an +army!' + +'I trust that it may be!' said Vittoria, with so deep and earnest a ring +of her voice that the count himself, malicious as his ejaculations +had been, was astonished. At that instant Laura cried from the window: +'These horses will go mad.' + +The exclamation had the desired effect. + +'Eh?--pardon me, signorina,' said the count, moving half-way to the +window, and then askant for his hat. The clatter of the horses' hoofs +sent him dashing through the doorway, at which place his daughter +stood with his hat extended. He thanked and blessed her for the kindly +attention, and in terror lest the signorina should think evil of him +as 'one of the generation of the hasty,' he said, 'Were it anything +but horses! anything but horses! one's horses!--ha!' The audible hoofs +called him off. He kissed the tips of his fingers, and tripped out. + +The signora stepped rapidly to the window, and leaning there, cried +a word to the coachman, who signalled perfect comprehension, and +immediately the count's horses were on their hind-legs, chafing and +pulling to right and left, and the street was tumultuous with them. She +flung down the window, seized Vittoria's cheeks in her two hands, and +pressed the head upon her bosom. 'He will not disturb us again,' she +said, in quite a new tone, sliding her hands from the cheeks to the +shoulders and along the arms to the fingers'-ends, which they clutched +lovingly. 'He is of the old school, friend of my heart! and besides, he +has but two pairs of horses, and one he keeps in Vienna. We live in +the hope that our masters will pay us better! Tell me! you are in good +health? All is well with you? Will they have to put paint on her soft +cheeks to-morrow? Little, if they hold the colour as full as now? My +Sandra! amica! should I have been jealous if Giacomo had known you? On +my soul, I cannot guess! But, you love what he loved. He seems to live +for me when they are talking of Italy, and you send your eyes forward +as if you saw the country free. God help me! how I have been containing +myself for the last hour and a half!' + +The signora dropped in a seat and laughed a languid laugh. + +'The little ones? I will ring for them. Assunta shall bring them down in +their night-gowns if they are undressed; and we will muffle the windows, +for my little man will be wanting his song; and did you not promise him +the great one which is to raise Italy-his mother, from the dead? Do you +remember our little fellow's eyes as he tried to see the picture? I fear +I force him too much, and there's no need-not a bit.' + +The time was exciting, and the signora spoke excitedly. Messing and +Reggio were in arms. South Italy had given the open signal. It was near +upon the hour of the unmasking of the great Lombard conspiracy, and +Vittoria, standing there, was the beacon-light of it. Her presence +filled Laura with transports of exultation; and shy of displaying +it, and of the theme itself, she let her tongue run on, and satisfied +herself by smoothing the hand of the brave girl on her chin, and +plucking with little loving tugs at her skirts. In doing this she +suddenly gave a cry, as if stung. + +'You carry pins,' she said. And inspecting the skirts more closely, 'You +have a careless maid in that creature Giacinta; she lets paper stick to +your dress. What is this?' + +Vittoria turned her head, and gathered up her dress to see. + +'Pinned with the butterfly!' Laura spoke under her breath. + +Vittoria asked what it meant. + +'Nothing--nothing,' said her friend, and rose, pulling her eagerly +toward the lamp. + +A small bronze butterfly secured a square piece of paper with clipped +corners to her dress. Two words were written on it:-- + + 'SEI SOSPETTA.' + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE BRONZE BUTTERFLY + +The two women were facing one another in a painful silence when Carlo +Ammiani was announced to them. He entered with a rapid stride, and +struck his hands together gladly at sight of Vittoria. + +Laura met his salutation by lifting the accusing butterfly attached to +Vittoria's dress. + +'Yes; I expected it,' he said, breathing quick from recent exertion. +'They are kind--they give her a personal warning. Sometimes the dagger +heads the butterfly. I have seen the mark on the Play-bills affixed to +the signorina's name.' + +'What does it mean?' said Laura, speaking huskily, with her head bent +over the bronze insect. 'What can it mean?' she asked again, and looked +up to meet a covert answer. + +'Unpin it.' Vittoria raised her arms as if she felt the thing to be +enveloping her. + +The signora loosened the pin from its hold; but dreading lest she +thereby sacrificed some possible clue to the mystery, she hesitated in +her action, and sent an intolerable shiver of spite through Vittoria's +frame, at whom she gazed in a cold and cruel way, saying, 'Don't +tremble.' And again, 'Is it the doing of that 'garritrice magrezza,' +whom you call 'la Lazzeruola?' Speak. Can you trace it to her hand? Who +put the plague-mark upon you?' + +Vittoria looked steadily away from her. + +'It means just this,' Carlo interposed; 'there! now it 's off; and, +signorina, I entreat you to think nothing of it,--it means that any one +who takes a chief part in the game we play, shall and must provoke +all fools, knaves, and idiots to think and do their worst. They can't +imagine a pure devotion. Yes, I see--“Sei sospetta.” They would write +their 'Sei sospetta' upon St. Catherine in the Wheel. Put it out of your +mind. Pass it.' + +'But they suspect her; and why do they suspect her?' Laura questioned +vehemently. 'I ask, is it a Conservatorio rival, or the brand of one of +the Clubs? She has no answer.' + +'Observe.' Carlo laid the paper under her eyes. + +Three angles were clipped, the fourth was doubled under. He turned it +back and disclosed the initials B. R. 'This also is the work of our +man-devil, as I thought. I begin to think that we shall be eternally +thwarted, until we first clear our Italy of its vermin. Here is a +weazel, a snake, a tiger, in one. They call him the Great Cat. He +fancies himself a patriot,--he is only a conspirator. I denounce him, +but he gets the faith of people, our Agostino among them, I believe. The +energy of this wretch is terrific. He has the vigour of a fasting saint. +Myself--I declare it to you, signora, with shame, I know what it is to +fear this man. He has Satanic blood, and the worst is, that the Chief +trusts him.' + +'Then, so do I,' said Laura. + +'And I,' Vittoria echoed her. + +A sudden squeeze beset her fingers. 'And I trust you,' Laura said to +her. 'But there has been some indiscretion. My child, wait: give no +heed to me, and have no feelings. Carlo, my friend--my husband's +boy--brother-in-arms! let her teach you to be generous. She must have +been indiscreet. Has she friends among the Austrians? I have one, and +it is known, and I am not suspected. But, has she? What have you said or +done that might cause them to suspect you? Speak, Sandra mia.' + +It was difficult for Vittoria to speak upon the theme, which made her +appear as a criminal replying to a charge. At last she said, 'English: +I have no foreign friends but English. I remember nothing that I have +done.--Yes, I have said I thought I might tremble if I was led out to be +shot.' + +'Pish! tush!' Laura checked her. 'They flog women, they do not shoot +them. They shoot men.' + +'That is our better fortune,' said Ammiani. + +'But, Sandra, my sister,' Laura persisted now, in melodious coaxing +tones. 'Can you not help us to guess? I am troubled: I am stung. It is +for your sake I feel it so. Can't you imagine who did it, for instance?' + +'No, signora, I cannot,' Vittoria replied. + +'You can't guess?' + +I cannot help you.' + +'You will not!' said the irritable woman. 'Have you noticed no one +passing near you?' + +'A woman brushed by me as I entered this street. I remember no one else. +And my Beppo seized a man who was spying on me, as he said. That is all +I can remember.' + +Vittoria turned her face to Ammiani. + +'Barto Rizzo has lived in England,' he remarked, half to himself. 'Did +you come across a man called Barto Rizzo there, signorina? I suspect him +to be the author of this.' + +At the name of Barto Rizzo, Laura's eyes widened, awakening a memory in +Ammiani; and her face had a spectral wanness. + +'I must go to my chamber,' she said. 'Talk of it together. I will be +with you soon.' + +She left them. + +Ammiani bent over to Vittoria's ear. 'It was this man who sent the +warning to Giacomo, the signora's husband, which he despised, and which +would have saved him. + +It is the only good thing I know of Barto Rizzo. Pardon her.' + +'I do,' said the girl, now weeping. + +'She has evidently a rooted superstitious faith in these revolutionary +sign-marks. They are contagious to her. She loves you, and believes in +you, and will kneel to you for forgiveness by-and-by. Her misery is a +disease. She thinks now, “If my husband had given heed to the warning!” + +'Yes, I see how her heart works,' said Vittoria. 'You knew her husband, +Signor Carlo?' + +'I knew him. I served under him. He was the brother of my love. I shall +have no other.' + +Vittoria placed her hand for Ammiani to take it. He joined his own to +the fevered touch. The heart of the young man swelled most ungovernably, +but the perils of the morrow were imaged by him, circling her as with a +tragic flame, and he had no word for his passion. + +The door opened, when a noble little boy bounded into the room; followed +by a little girl in pink and white, like a streamer in the steps of +her brother. With shouts, and with arms thrown forward, they flung +themselves upon Vittoria, the boy claiming all her lap, and the girl +struggling for a share of the kingdom. Vittoria kissed them, crying, +'No, no, no, Messer Jack, this is a republic, and not an empire, and you +are to have no rights of “first come”; and Amalia sits on one knee, and +you on one knee, and you sit face to face, and take hands, and swear to +be satisfied.' + +'Then I desire not to be called an English Christian name, and you will +call me Giacomo,' said the boy. + +Vittoria sang, in mountain-notes, 'Giacomo!--Giacomo--Giac-giac-giac.. +como!' + +The children listened, glistening up at her, and in conjunction jumped +and shouted for more. + +'More?' said Vittoria; 'but is the Signor Carlo no friend of ours? and +does he wear a magic ring that makes him invisible?' + +'Let the German girl go to him,' said Giacomo, and strained his throat +to reach at kisses. + +'I am not a German girl,' little Amalia protested, refusing to go to +Carlo Ammiani under that stigma, though a delightful haven of open arms +and knees, and filliping fingers, invited her. + +'She is not a German girl, O Signor Giacomo,' said Vittoria, in the +theatrical manner. + +'She has a German name.' + +'It's not a German name!' the little girl shrieked. + +Giacomo set Amalia to a miauling tune. + +'So, you hate the Duchess of Graatli!' said Vittoria. 'Very well. I +shall remember.' + +The boy declared that he did not hate his mother's friend and sister's +godmother: he rather liked her, he really liked her, he loved her; but +he loathed the name 'Amalia,' and could not understand why the duchess +would be a German. He concluded by miauling 'Amalia' in the triumph of +contempt. + +'Cat, begone!' said Vittoria, promptly setting him down on his feet, and +little Amalia at the same time perceiving that practical sympathy only +required a ring at the bell for it to come out, straightway pulled the +wires within herself, and emitted a doleful wail that gave her sole +possession of Vittoria's bosom, where she was allowed to bring her tears +to an end very comfortingly. Giacomo meanwhile, his body bent in an +arch, plucked at Carlo Ammiani's wrists with savagely playful tugs, and +took a stout boy's lesson in the art of despising what he coveted. He +had only to ask for pardon. Finding it necessary, he came shyly up +to Vittoria, who put Amalia in his way, kissing whom, he was himself +tenderly kissed. + +'But girls should not cry!' Vittoria reproved the little woman. + +'Why do you cry?' asked Amalia simply. + +'See! she has been crying.' Giacomo appropriated the discovery, perforce +of loudness, after the fashion of his sex. + +'Why does our Vittoria cry?' both the children clamoured. + +'Because your mother is such a cruel sister to her,' said Laura, passing +up to them from the doorway. She drew Vittoria's head against her +breast, looked into her eyes, and sat down among them. Vittoria sang +one low-toned soft song, like the voice of evening, before they were +dismissed to their beds. She could not obey Giacomo's demand for a +martial air, and had to plead that she was tired. + +When the children had gone, it was as if a truce had ended. The signora +and Ammiani fell to a brisk counterchange of questions relating to the +mysterious suspicion which had fallen upon Vittoria. Despite Laura's +love for her, she betrayed her invincible feeling that there must be +some grounds for special or temporary distrust. + +'The lives that hang on it knock at me here,' she said, touching under +her throat with fingers set like falling arrows. + +But Ammiani, who moved in the centre of conspiracies, met at their +councils, and knew their heads, and frequently combated their schemes, +was not possessed by the same profound idea of their potential command +of hidden facts and sovereign wisdom. He said, 'We trust too much to one +man. We are compelled to trust him, but we trust too much to him. I mean +this man, this devil, Barto Rizzo. Signora, signora, he must be spoken +of. He has dislocated the plot. He is the fanatic of the revolution, +and we are trusting him as if he had full sway of reason. What is the +consequence? The Chief is absent he is now, as I believe, in Genoa. All +the plan for the rising is accurate; the instruments are ready, and +we are paralyzed. I have been to three houses to-night, and where, two +hours previously, there was union and concert, all are irresolute and +divided. I have hurried off a messenger to the Chief. Until we hear from +him, nothing can be done. I left Ugo Corte storming against us Milanese, +threatening, as usual, to work without us, and have a Bergamasc and +Brescian Republic of his own. Count Medole is for a week's postponement. +Agostino smiles and chuckles, and talks his poetisms.' + +'Until you hear from the Chief, nothing is to be done?' Laura said +passionately. 'Are we to remain in suspense? Impossible! I cannot +bear it. We have plenty of arms in the city. Oh, that we had cannon! +I worship cannon! They are the Gods of battle! But if we surprise the +citadel;--one true shock of alarm makes a mob of an army. I have heard +my husband say so. Let there be no delay. That is my word.' + +'But, signora, do you see that all concert about the signal is lost?' + +'My friend, I see something'; Laura nodded a significant half-meaning +at him. 'And perhaps it will be as well. Go at once. See that another +signal is decided upon. Oh! because we are ready--ready. Inaction now +is uttermost anguish--kills the heart. What number of the white butchers +have we in the city to-night?' + +'They are marching in at every gate. I saw a regiment of Hungarians +coming up the Borgo della Stella. Two fresh squadrons of Uhlans in the +Corso Francesco. In the Piazza d'Armi artillery is encamped.' + +'The better for Brescia, for Bergamo, for Padua, for Venice!' exclaimed +Laura. 'There is a limit to their power. We Milanese can match them. For +days and days I have had a dream lying in my bosom that Milan was soon +to breathe. Go, my brother; go to Barto Rizzo; gather him and Count +Medole, Agostino, and Colonel Corte--to whom I kiss my fingers--gather +them together, and squeeze their brains for the one spark of divine fire +in this darkness which must exist where there are so many thorough men +bent upon a sacred enterprise. And, Carlo,'--Laura checked her nervous +voice, 'don't think I am declaiming to you from one of my “Midnight +Lamps.”' (She spoke of the title of her pamphlets to the Italian +people.) 'You feel among us women very much as Agostino and Colonel +Corte feel when the boy Carlo airs his impetuosities in their presence. +Yes, my fervour makes a philosopher of you. That is human nature. Pity +me, pardon me, and do my bidding.' + +The comparison of Ammiani's present sentiments to those of the elders of +the conspiracy, when his mouth was open in their midst, was severe and +masterful, for the young man rose instantly without a thought in his +head. + +He remarked: 'I will tell them that the signorina does not give the +signal.' + +'Tell them that the name she has chosen shall be Vittoria still; but +say, that she feels a shadow of suspicion to be an injunction upon her +at such a crisis, and she will serve silently and humbly until she is +rightly known, and her time comes. She is willing to appear before them, +and submit to interrogation. She knows her innocence, and knowing that +they work for the good of the country, she, if it is their will, is +content to be blotted out of all participation:--all! She abjures all +for the common welfare. Say that. And say, to-morrow night the rising +must be. Oh! to-morrow night! It is my husband to me.' + +Laura Piaveni crossed her arms upon her bosom. + +Ammiani was moving from them with a downward face, when a bell-note of +Vittoria's voice arrested him. + +'Stay, Signor Carlo; I shall sing to-morrow night.' + +The widow heard her through that thick emotion which had just closed +her' speech with its symbolical sensuous rapture. Divining opposition +fiercely, like a creature thwarted when athirst for the wells, she gave +her a terrible look, and then said cajolingly, as far as absence of +sweetness could make the tones pleasant, 'Yes, you will sing, but you +will not sing that song.' + +'It is that song which I intend to sing, signora.' + +'When it is interdicted?' + +'There is only one whose interdict I can acknowledge.' + +'You will dare to sing in defiance of me?' + +'I dare nothing when I simply do my duty.' + +Ammiani went up to the window, and leaned there, eyeing the lights +leading down to the crowding Piazza. He wished that he were among the +crowd, and might not hear those sharp stinging utterances coming from +Laura, and Vittoria's unwavering replies, less frequent, but firmer, and +gravely solid. Laura spent her energy in taunts, but Vittoria spoke +only of her resolve, and to the point. It was, as his military instincts +framed the simile, like the venomous crackling of skirmishing rifles +before a fortress, that answered slowly with its volume of sound and +sweeping shot. He had the vision of himself pleading to secure her +safety, and in her hearing, on the Motterone, where she had seemed so +simple a damsel, albeit nobly enthusiastic: too fair, too gentle to be +stationed in any corner of the conflict at hand. Partly abased by the +remembrance of his brainless intercessions then, and of the laughter +which had greeted them, and which the signora had recently recalled, it +was nevertheless not all in self-abasement (as the momentary recognition +of a splendid character is commonly with men) that he perceived the +stature of Vittoria's soul. Remembering also what the Chief had spoken +of women, Ammiani thought 'Perhaps he has known one such as she.' The +passion of the young man's heart magnified her image. He did not wonder +to see the signora acknowledge herself worsted in the conflict. + +'She talks like the edge of a sword,' cried Laura, desperately, and +dropped into a chair. 'Take her home, and convince her, if you can, +on the way, Carlo. I go to the Duchess of Graatli to-night. She has a +reception. Take this girl home. She says she will sing: she obeys the +Chief, and none but the Chief. We will not suppose that it is her desire +to shine. She is suspected; she is accused; she is branded; there is no +general faith in her; yet she will hold the torch to-morrow night:--and +what ensues? Some will move, some turn back, some run headlong over to +treachery, some hang irresolute all are for the shambles! The blood is +on her head.' + +'I will excuse myself to you another time,' said Vittoria. 'I love you, +Signora Laura.' + +'You do, you do, or you would not think of excusing yourself to me,' +said Laura. 'But now, go. You have cut me in two. Carlo Ammiani may +succeed where I have failed, and I have used every weapon; enough to +make a mean creature hate me for life and kiss me with transports. Do +your best, Carlo, and let it be your utmost.' + +It remained for Ammiani to assure her that their views were different. + +'The signorina persists in her determination to carry out the programme +indicated by the Chief, and refuses to be diverted from her path by the +false suspicions of subordinates.' He employed a sententious phraseology +instinctively, as men do when they are nervous, as well as when they +justify the cynic's definition of the uses of speech. 'The signorina is, +in my opinion, right. If she draws back, she publicly accepts the blot +upon her name. I speak against my own feelings and my wishes.' + +'Sandra, do you hear?' exclaimed Laura. 'This is a friend's +interpretation of your inconsiderate wilfulness.' + +Vittoria was content to reply, 'The Signor Carlo judges of me +differently.' + +'Go, then, and be fortified by him in this headstrong folly.' Laura +motioned her hand, and laid it on her face. + +Vittoria knelt and enclosed her with her arms, kissing her knees. + +'Beppo waits for me at the house-door,' she said; but Carlo chose not to +hear of this shadow-like Beppo. + +'You have nothing to say for her save that she clears her name by giving +the signal,' Laura burst out on his temperate 'Addio,' and started to +her feet. 'Well, let it be so. Fruitless blood again! A 'rivederla' to +you both. To-night I am in the enemy's camp. They play with open +cards. Amalia tells me all she knows by what she disguises. I may learn +something. Come to me to-morrow. My Sandra, I will kiss you. These +shudderings of mine have no meaning.' + +The signora embraced her, and took Ammiani's salute upon her fingers. + +'Sour fingers!' he said. She leaned her cheek to him, whispering, 'I +could easily be persuaded to betray you.' + +He answered, 'I must have some merit in not betraying myself.' + +'At each elbow!' she laughed. 'You show the thumps of an electric +battery at each elbow, and expect your Goddess of lightnings not to see +that she moves you. Go. You have not sided with me, and I am right, and +I am a woman. By the way, Sandra mia, I would beg the loan of your Beppo +for two hours or less.' + +Vittoria placed Beppo at her disposal. + +'And you run home to bed,' continued Laura. 'Reason comes to you +obstinate people when you are left alone for a time in the dark.' + +She hardly listened to Vittoria's statement that the chief singers in +the new opera were engaged to attend a meeting at eleven at night at the +house of the maestro Rocco Ricci. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE PLOT OF THE SIGNOR ANTONIO + +There was no concealment as to Laura's object in making request for the +services of Beppo. She herself knew it to be obvious that she intended +to probe and cross-examine the man, and in her wilfulness she chose to +be obtuse to opinion. She did not even blush to lean a secret ear above +the stairs that she might judge, by the tones of Vittoria's voice upon +her giving Beppo the order to wait, whether she was at the same time +conveying a hint for guardedness. But Vittoria said not a word: it was +Ammiani who gave the order. 'I am despicable in distrusting her for +a single second,' said Laura. That did not the less encourage her to +question Beppo rigorously forthwith; and as she was not to be deceived +by an Italian's affectation of simplicity, she let him answer two or +three times like a plain fool, and then abruptly accused him of standing +prepared with these answers. Beppo, within his own bosom, immediately +ascribed to his sagacious instinct the mere spirit of opposition and +dislike to serve any one save his own young mistress which had caused +him to irritate the signora and be on his guard. He proffered a candid +admission of the truth of the charge; adding, that he stood likewise +prepared with an unlimited number of statements. 'Questions, illustrious +signora, invariably put me on the defensive, and seem to cry for a +return thrust; and this I account for by the fact that my mother--the +blessed little woman now among the Saints!--was questioned, brows and +heels, by a ferruginously--faced old judge at the momentous period when +she carried me. So that, a question--and I show point; but ask me for a +statement, and, ah, signora!' Beppo delivered a sweep of the arm, as to +indicate the spontaneous flow of his tongue. + +'I think,' said Laura, 'you have been a soldier, and a serving-man.' + +'And a scene-shifter, most noble signora, at La Scala.' + +'You accompanied the Signor Mertyrio to England when he was wounded?' + +'I did.' + +'And there you beheld the Signorina Vittoria, who was then bearing the +name of Emilia Belloni?' + +'Which name she changed on her arrival in Italy, illustrious signora, +for that of Vittoria Campa--“sull' campo dells gloria”--ah! ah!--her own +name being an attraction to the blow-flies in her own country. All this +is true.' + +'It should be a comfort to you! The Signor Mertyrio...' + +Beppo writhed his person at the continuance of the questionings, and +obtaining a pause, he rushed into his statement: 'The Signor Mertyrio +was well, and on the point of visiting Italy, and quitting the +wave-embraced island of fog, of beer, of moist winds, and much money, +and much kindness, where great hearts grew. The signorina corresponded +with him, and with him only.' + +'You know that, and will swear to it?' Laura exclaimed. + +Beppo thereby receiving the cue he had commenced beating for, swore to +its truth profoundly, and straightway directed his statement to prove +that his mistress had not been politically (or amorously, if the +suspicion aimed at her in those softer regions) indiscreet or blameable +in any of her actions. The signorina, he said, never went out from her +abode without the companionship of her meritorious mother and his own +most humble attendance. He, Beppo, had a master and a mistress, the +Signor Mertyrio and the Signorina Vittoria. She saw no foreigners: +though--a curious thing!--he had seen her when the English language was +talked in her neighbourhood; and she had a love for that language: it +made her face play in smiles like an infant's after it has had suck and +is full;--the sort of look you perceive when one is dreaming and hears +music. She did not speak to foreigners. She did not care to go to +foreign cities, but loved Milan, and lived in it free and happy as +an earwig in a ripe apricot. The circumvallation of Milan gave her +elbow-room enough, owing to the absence of forts all round--'which knock +one's funny-bone in Verona, signora.' Beppo presented a pure smile upon +a simple bow for acceptance. 'The air of Milan,' he went on, with less +confidence under Laura's steady gaze, and therefore more forcing of his +candour--'the sweet air of Milan gave her a deep chestful, so that she +could hold her note as long as five lengths of a fiddle-bow:--by the +body of Sant' Ambrogio, it was true!' Beppo stretched out his arm, +and chopped his hand edgeways five testificatory times on the +shoulder-ridge. 'Ay, a hawk might fly from St. Luke's head (on the +Duomo) to the stone on San Primo over Como, while the signorina held +on her note! You listened, you gasped--you thought of a poet in his +dungeon, and suddenly, behold, his chains are struck off!--you +thought of a gold-shelled tortoise making his pilgrimage to a beatific +shrine!--you thought--you knew not what you thought!' + +Here Beppo sank into a short silence of ecstasy, and wakening from it, +as with an ardent liveliness: 'The signora has heard her sing? How to +describe it! Tomorrow night will be a feast for Milan.' + +'You think that the dilettanti of Milan will have a delight to-morrow +night?' said Laura; but seeing that the man's keen ear had caught note +of the ironic reptile under the flower, and unwilling to lose further +time, she interdicted his reply. + +'Beppo, my good friend, you are a complete Italian--you waste +your cleverness. You will gratify me by remembering that I am your +countrywoman. I have already done you a similar favour by allowing you +to air your utmost ingenuity. The reflection that it has been to no +purpose will neither scare you nor instruct you. Of that I am quite +assured. I speak solely to suit the present occasion. Now, don't seek +to elude me. If you are a snake with friends as well as enemies, you are +nothing but a snake. I ask you--you are not compelled to answer, but +I forbid you to lie--has your mistress seen, or conversed and had +correspondence with any one receiving the Tedeschi's gold, man or woman? +Can any one, man or woman, call her a traitress?' + +'Not twice!' thundered Beppo, with a furrowed red forehead. + +There was a noble look about the fellow as he stood with stiff legs in +a posture, frowning--theatrical, but noble also; partly the look of a +Figaro defending his honour in extremity, yet much like a statue of a +French Marshal of the Empire. + +'That will do,' said Laura, rising. She was about to leave him, when +the Duchess of Graatli's chasseur was ushered in, bearing a missive from +Amalia, her friend. She opened it and read:-- + + 'BEST BELOVED,--Am I soon to be reminded bitterly that there is a + river of steel between my heart and me? + + 'Fail not in coming to-night. Your new Bulbul is in danger. The + silly thing must have been reading Roman history. Say not no! It + intoxicates you all. I watch over her for my Laura's sake: a + thousand kisses I shower on you, dark delicious soul that you are! + Are you not my pine-grove leading to the evening star? Come, that + we may consult how to spirit her away during her season of peril. + Gulfs do not close over little female madcaps, my Laura; so we must + not let her take the leap. Enter the salle when you arrive: pass + down it once and return upon your steps; then to my boudoir. My + maid Aennchen will conduct you. Addio. Tell this messenger that + you come. Laura mine, I am for ever thy + + 'AMALIA.' + +Laura signalled to the chasseur that her answer was affirmative. As he +was retiring, his black-plumed hat struck against Beppo, who thrust +him aside and gave the hat a dexterous kick, all the while keeping a +decorous front toward the signora. She stood meditating. The enraged +chasseur mumbled a word or two for Beppo's ear, in execrable Italian, +and went. Beppo then commenced bowing half toward the doorway, and tried +to shoot through, out of sight and away, in a final droop of excessive +servility, but the signora stopped him, telling him to consider himself +her servant until the morning; at which he manifested a surprising +readiness, indicative of nothing short of personal devotion, and +remained for two minutes after she had quitted the room. So much time +having elapsed, he ran bounding down the stairs and found the hall-door +locked, and that he was a prisoner during the signora's pleasure. +The discovery that he was mastered by superior cunning, instead of +disconcerting, quieted him wonderfully; so he put by the resources of +his ingenuity for the next opportunity, and returned stealthily to his +starting-point, where the signora found him awaiting her with composure. +The man was in mortal terror lest he might be held guilty of a trust +betrayed, in leaving his mistress for an hour, even in obedience to her +command, at this crisis: but it was not in his nature to state the case +openly to the signora, whom he knew to be his mistress's friend, or to +think of practising other than shrewd evasion to accomplish his duty and +satisfy his conscience. + +Laura said, without smiling, 'The street-door opens with a key,' and +she placed the key in his hand, also her fan to carry. Once out of the +house, she was sure that he would not forsake his immediate charge of +the fan: she walked on, heavily veiled, confident of his following. The +Duchess of Graatli's house neighboured the Corso Francesco; numerous +carriages were disburdening their freights of fair guests, and now and +then an Austrian officer in full uniform ran up the steps, glittering +under the lamps. 'I go in among them,' thought Laura. It rejoiced her +that she had come on foot. Forgetting Beppo, and her black fan, as no +Italian woman would have done but she who paced in an acute quivering of +the anguish of hopeless remembrances and hopeless thirst of vengeance, +she suffered herself to be conducted in the midst of the guests, and +shuddered like one who has taken a fever-chill as she fulfilled the +duchess's directions; she passed down the length of the saloon, through +a light of visages that were not human to her sensations. + +Meantime Beppo, oppressed by his custody of the fan, and expecting that +most serviceable lady's instrument to be sent for at any minute, stood +among a strange body of semi-feudal retainers below, where he was soon +singled out by the duchess's chasseur, a Styrian, who, masking his fury +under jest, in the South-German manner, endeavoured to lead him up to +an altercation. But Beppo was much too supple to be entrapped. He +apologized for any possible offences that he might have committed, +assuring the chasseur that he considered one hat as good as another, +and some hats better than others: in proof of extreme cordiality, he +accepted the task of repeating the chasseur's name, which was 'Jacob +Baumwalder Feckelwitz,' a tolerable mouthful for an Italian; and it was +with remarkable delicacy that Beppo contrived to take upon himself the +whole ridicule of his vile pronunciation of the unwieldy name. Jacob +Baumwalder Feckelwitz offered him beer to refresh him after the effort. +While Beppo was drinking, he seized the fan. 'Good; good; a thousand +thanks,' said Beppo, relinquishing it; 'convey it aloft, I beseech you.' +He displayed such alacrity and lightness of limb at getting rid of it, +that Jacob thrust it between the buttons of his shirtfront, returning +it to his possession by that aperture. Beppo's head sank. A handful of +black lace and cedarwood chained him to the spot! He entreated the men +in livery to take the fan upstairs and deliver it to the Signora Laura +Piaveni; but they, being advised by Jacob, refused. 'Go yourself,' +said Jacob, laughing, and little prepared to see the victim, on whom he +thought that for another hour at least he had got his great paw firmly, +take him at his word. Beppo sprang into the hall and up the stairs. The +duchess's maid, ivory-faced Aennchen, was flying past him. She saw a +very taking dark countenance making eyes at her, leaned her ear shyly, +and pretending to understand all that was said by the rapid foreign +tongue, acted from the suggestion of the sole thing which she did +understand. Beppo had mentioned the name of the Signora Piaveni. 'This +way,' she indicated with her finger, supposing that of course he wanted +to see the signora very urgently. + +Beppo tried hard to get her to carry the fan; but she lifted her fingers +in a perfect Susannah horror of it, though still bidding him to follow. +Naturally she did not go fast through the dark passages, where the +game of the fan was once more played out, and with accompaniments. The +accompaniments she objected to no further than a fish is agitated in +escaping from the hook; but 'Nein, nein!' in her own language, and 'No, +no!' in his, burst from her lips whenever he attempted to transfer the +fan to her keeping. 'These white women are most wonderful!' thought +Beppo, ready to stagger between perplexity and impatience. + +'There; in there!' said Aennchen, pointing to a light that came +through the folds of a curtain. Beppo kissed her fingers as they tugged +unreluctantly in his clutch, and knew by a little pause that the case +was hopeful for higher privileges. What to do? He had not an instant +to spare; yet he dared not offend a woman's vanity. He gave an ecstatic +pressure of her hand upon his breastbone, to let her be sure she was +adored, albeit not embraced. After this act of prudence he went toward +the curtain, while the fair Austrian soubrette flew on her previous +errand. + +It was enough that Beppo found himself in a dark antechamber for him to +be instantly scrupulous in his footing and breathing. As he touched the +curtain, a door opened on the other side of the interior, and a tender +gabble of fresh feminine voices broke the stillness and ran on like a +brook coming from leaps to a level, and again leaping and making noise +of joy. The Duchess of Graatli had clasped the Signora Laura's two hands +and drawn her to an ottoman, and between kissings and warmer claspings, +was questioning of the little ones, Giacomo and her goddaughter Amalia. + +'When, when did I see you last?' she exclaimed. 'Oh! not since we met +that morning to lay our immortelles upon his tomb. My soul's sister! +kiss me, remembering it. I saw you in the gateway--it seemed to me, +as in a vision, that we had both had one warning to come for him, and +knock, and the door would be opened, and our beloved would come forth! +That was many days back. It is to me like a day locked up forever in a +casket of pearl. Was it not an unstained morning, my own! If I weep, it +is with pleasure. But,' she added with precipitation, 'weeping of any +kind will not do for these eyelids of mine.' And drawing forth a tiny +gold-framed pocket-mirror she perceived convincingly that it would not +do. + +'They will think it is for the absence of my husband,' she said, as only +a woman can say it who deplores nothing so little as that. + +'When does he return from Vienna?' Laura inquired in the fallen voice of +her thoughtfulness. + +'I receive two couriers a week; I know not any more, my Laura. I believe +he is pushing some connubial complaint against me at the Court. We have +been married seventeen months. I submitted to the marriage because I +could get no proper freedom without, and now I am expected to abstain +from the very thing I sacrificed myself to get! Can he hear that in +Vienna?' She snapped her fingers. 'If not, let him come and behold it in +Milan. Besides, he is harmless. The Archduchess is all ears for the very +man of whom he is jealous. This is my reply: You told me to marry: +I obeyed. My heart 's in the earth, and I must have distractions. My +present distraction is De Pyrmont, a good Catholic and a good Austrian +soldier, though a Frenchman. I grieve to say--it's horrible--that it +sometimes tickles me when I reflect that De Pyrmont is keen with the +sword. But remember, Laura, it was not until after our marriage my +husband told me he could have saved Giacomo by the lifting of a finger. +Away with the man!--if it amuses me to punish him, I do so.' + +The duchess kissed Laura's cheek, and continued:--'Now to the point +where we stand enemies! I am for Austria, you are for Italy. Good. But I +am always for Laura. So, there's a river between us and a bridge across +it. My darling, do you know that we are much too strong for you, if you +mean anything serious tomorrow night?' + +'Are you?' Laura said calmly. + +'I know, you see, that something is meant to happen to-morrow night.' + +Laura said, 'Do you?' + +'We have positive evidence of it. More than that: Your Vittoria--but +do you care to have her warned? She will certainly find herself in a +pitfall if she insists on carrying out her design. Tell me, do you +care to have her warned and shielded? A year of fortress-life is not +agreeable, is not beneficial for the voice. Speak, my Laura.' + +Laura looked up in the face of her friend mildly with her large dark +eyes, replying, 'Do you think of sending Major de Pyrmont to her to warn +her?' + +'Are you not wicked?' cried the duchess, feeling that she blushed, and +that Laura had thrown her off the straight road of her interrogation. +'But, play cards with open hands, my darling, to-night. Look:--She is in +danger. I know it; so do you. She will be imprisoned perhaps before she +steps on the boards--who knows? Now, I--are not my very dreams all sworn +in a regiment to serve my Laura?--I have a scheme. Truth, it is +hardly mine. It belongs to the Greek, the Signor Antonio Pericles +Agriolopoulos. It is simply'--the duchess dropped her voice out of +Beppo's hearing--'a scheme to rescue her: speed her away to my chateau +near Meran in Tyrol.' 'Tyrol' was heard by Beppo. In his frenzy at the +loss of the context he indulged in a yawn, and a grimace, and a dance of +disgust all in one; which lost him the next sentence likewise. 'There +we purpose keeping her till all is quiet and her revolutionary fever +has passed. Have you heard of this Signor Antonio? He could buy up the +kingdom of Greece, all Tyrol, half Lombardy. The man has a passion for +your Vittoria; for her voice solely, I believe. He is considered, no +doubt truly, a great connoisseur. He could have a passion for nothing +else, or alas!' (the duchess shook her head with doleful drollery) +'would he insist on written securities and mortgages of my private +property when he lends me money? How different the world is from the +romances, my Laura! But for De Pyrmont, I might fancy my smile was +really incapable of ransoming an empire; I mean an emperor. Speak; the +man is waiting to come; shall I summon him?' + +Laura gave an acquiescent nod. + +By this time Beppo had taken root to the floor. 'I am in the best place +after all,' he said, thinking of the duties of his service. He was +perfectly well acquainted with the features of the Signor Antonio. He +knew that Luigi was the Signor Antonio's spy upon Vittoria, and that no +personal harm was intended toward his mistress; but Beppo's heart was in +the revolt of which Vittoria was to give the signal; so, without a touch +of animosity, determined to thwart him, Beppo waited to hear the Signor +Antonio's scheme. + +The Greek was introduced by Aennchen. She glanced at the signora's lap, +and seeing her still without her fan, her eye shot slyly up with her +shining temple, inspecting the narrow opening in the curtain furtively. +A short hush of preluding ceremonies passed. + +Presently Beppo heard them speaking; he was aghast to find that he +had no comprehension of what they were uttering. 'Oh, accursed French +dialect!' he groaned; discovering the talk to be in that tongue. +The Signor Antonio warmed rapidly from the frigid politeness of his +introductory manner. A consummate acquaintance with French was required +to understand him. He held out the fingers of one hand in regimental +order, and with the others, which alternately screwed his moustache from +its constitutional droop over the corners of his mouth, he touched the +uplifted digits one by one, buzzing over them: flashing his white eyes, +and shrugging in a way sufficient to madden a surreptitious listener +who was aware that a wealth of meaning escaped him and mocked at him. At +times the Signor Antonio pitched a note compounded half of cursing, half +of crying, it seemed: both pathetic and objurgative, as if he whimpered +anathemas and had inexpressible bitter things in his mind. But there +was a remedy! He displayed the specific on a third finger. It was there. +This being done (number three on the fingers), matters might still be +well. So much his electric French and gesticulations plainly asserted. +Beppo strained all his attention for names, in despair at the riddle of +the signs. Names were pillars of light in the dark unintelligible waste. +The signora put a question. It was replied to with the name of the +Maestro Rocco Ricci. Following that, the Signor Antonio accompanied his +voluble delivery with pantomimic action which seemed to indicate the +shutting of a door and an instantaneous galloping of horses--a flight +into air, any-whither. He whipped the visionary steeds with enthusiastic +glee, and appeared to be off skyward like a mad poet, when the signora +again put a question, and at once he struck his hand flat across his +mouth, and sat postured to answer what she pleased with a glare of +polite vexation. She spoke; he echoed her, and the duchess took up the +same phrase. Beppo was assisted by the triangular recurrence of the +words and their partial relationship to Italian to interpret them: +'This night.' Then the signora questioned further. The Greek replied: +'Mademoiselle Irma di Karski.' + +'La Lazzeruola,' she said. + +The Signor Antonio flashed a bit of sarcastic mimicry, as if acquiescing +in the justice of the opprobrious term from the high point of view: but +mademoiselle might pass, she was good enough for the public. + +Beppo heard and saw no more. A tug from behind recalled him to his +situation. He put out his arms and gathered Aennchen all dark in them: +and first kissing her so heartily as to set her trembling on the verge +of a betrayal, before she could collect her wits he struck the fan down +the pretty hollow of her back, between her shoulder-blades, and bounded +away. It was not his intention to rush into the embrace of Jacob +Baumwalder Feckelwitz, but that perambulating chasseur received him in +a semi-darkness where all were shadows, and exclaimed, 'Aennchen!' Beppo +gave an endearing tenderness to the few words of German known to him: +'Gottschaf-donner-dummer!' and slipped from the hold of the astonished +Jacob, sheer under his arm-pit. He was soon in the street, excited +he knew not by what, or for what object. He shuffled the names he +remembered to have just heard--'Rocco Ricci, and 'la Lazzeruola.' Why +did the name of la Lazzeruola come in advance of la Vittoria? And what +was the thing meant by 'this night,' which all three had uttered as in +an agreement?--ay! and the Tyrol! The Tyrol--this night-Rocco Ricci la +Lazzeruola! + +Beppo's legs were carrying him toward the house of the Maestro Rocco +Ricci ere he had arrived at any mental decision upon these imminent +mysteries. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +AT THE MAESTRO'S DOOR + +The house of the Maestro Rocco Ricci turned off the Borgo della Stella. +Carlo Ammiani conducted Vittoria to the maestro's door. They conversed +very little on the way. + +'You are a good swordsman?' she asked him abruptly. + +'I have as much skill as belongs to a perfect intimacy with the weapon,' +he answered. + +'Your father was a soldier, Signor Carlo.' + +'He was a General officer in what he believed to be the army of Italy. +We used to fence together every day for two hours.' + +'I love the fathers who do that,' said Vittoria. + +After such speaking Ammiani was not capable of the attempt to preach +peace and safety to her. He postponed it to the next minute and the +next. + +Vittoria's spirit was in one of those angry knots which are half of the +intellect, half of the will, and are much under the domination of one or +other of the passions in the ascendant. She was resolved to go forward; +she felt justified in going forward; but the divine afflatus of +enthusiasm buoyed her no longer, and she required the support of all +that accuracy of insight and that senseless stubbornness which there +might be in her nature. The feeling that it was she to whom it was given +to lift the torch and plant the standard of Italy, had swept her as +through the strings of a harp. Laura, and the horrible little bronze +butterfly, and the 'Sei sospetta,' now made her duty seem dry and +miserably fleshless, imaging itself to her as if a skeleton had been +told to arise and walk:--say, the thing obeys, and fills a ghastly +distension of men's eyelids for a space, and again lies down, and men +get their breath: but who is the rosier for it? where is the glory of +it? what is the good? This Milan, and Verona, Padua, Vicenza, Brescia, +Venice, Florence, the whole Venetian, Tuscan, and Lombardic lands, down +to far Sicily, and that Rome which always lay under the crown of a dead +sunset in her idea--they too might rise; but she thought of them as +skeletons likewise. Even the shadowy vision of Italy Free had no +bloom on it, and stood fronting the blown trumpets of resurrection +Lazarus-like. + +At these moments young hearts, though full of sap and fire, cannot do +common nursing labour for the little suckling sentiments and hopes, +the dreams, the languors and the energies hanging about them for +nourishment. Vittoria's horizon was within five feet of her. She saw +neither splendid earth nor ancient heaven; nothing save a breach to +be stepped over in defiance of foes and (what was harder to brave) of +friends. Some wayward activity of old associations set her humming a +quaint English tune, by which she was brought to her consciousness. + +'Dear friend,' she said, becoming aware that there might be a more +troubled depth in Ammiani's absence of speech than in her own. + +'Yes?' said he, quickly, as for a sentence to follow. None came, and he +continued, 'The Signora Laura is also your friend.' + +She rejoined coldly, 'I am not thinking of her.' + +Vittoria had tried to utter what might be a word of comfort for him, and +she found she had not a thought or an emotion. Here she differed from +Laura, who, if the mood to heal a favourite's little sore at any season +came upon her, would shower out lively tendernesses and all cajoleries +possible to the tongue of woman. Yet the irritation of action narrowed +Laura more than it did Vittoria; fevered her and distracted her +sympathies. Being herself a plaything at the time, she could easily play +a part for others. Vittoria had not grown, probably never would grow, to +be so plastic off the stage. She was stringing her hand to strike a blow +as men strike, and women when they do that cannot be quite feminine. + +'How dull the streets are,' she remarked. + +'They are, just now,' said Ammiani, thinking of them on the night to +come convulsed with strife, and of her, tossed perhaps like a weed along +the torrent of bloody deluge waters. Her step was so firm, her face so +assured, that he could not fancy she realized any prospect of the sort, +and it filled him with pity and a wretched quailing. + +If I speak now I shall be talking like a coward, he said to himself: +and he was happily too prudent to talk to her in that strain. So he said +nothing of peace and safety. She was almost at liberty to believe that +he approved the wisdom of her resolution. At the maestro's door she +thanked him for his escort, and begged for it further within an hour. +'And do bring me some chocolate.' She struck her teeth together champing +in a pretty hunger for it. 'I have no chocolate in my pocket, and I +hardly know myself.' + +'What will your Signor Antonio say?' + +Vittoria filliped her fingers. 'His rule is over, and he is my slave: I +am not his. I will not eat much; but some some I must have.' + +Ammiani laughed and promised to obtain it. 'That is, if there's any to +be had.' + +'Break open doors to get it for me,' she said, stamping with fun to +inspirit him. + +No sooner was she standing alone, than her elbow was gently plucked at +on the other side: a voice was sibilating: 'S-s-signorina.' She allowed +herself to be drawn out of the light of the open doorway, having no +suspicion and no fear. 'Signorina, here is chocolate.' She beheld two +hands in cup-shape, surcharged with packets of Turin chocolate. + +'Lugi, it is you?' + +The Motterone spy screwed his eyelids to an expression of the shrewdest +secresy. + +'Hist! signorina. Take some. You shall have all, but wait:--by-and-by. +Aha! you look at my eyes as you did on the Monterone, because one +of them takes the shoulder-view; but, the truth is, my father was a +contrabandist, and had his eye in his ear when the frontier guard sent +a bullet through his back, cotton-bags and cutleries, and all! I inherit +from him, and have been wry-eyed ever since. How does that touch a +man's honesty, signorina? Not at all. Don't even suspect that you won't +appreciate Luigi by-and-by. So, you won't ask me a word, signorina, +but up you go to the maestro:--signorina, I swear I am your faithful +servant--up to the maestro, and down first. Come down first not +last:--first. Let the other one come down after you; and you come down +first. Leave her behind, la Lazzeruola; and here, 'Luigi displayed a +black veil, the common head-dress of the Milanese women, and twisted his +fingers round and round on his forehead to personate the horns of the +veil; 'take it, signorina; you know how to wear it. Luigi and the saints +watch over you.' Vittoria found herself left in possession of the veil +and a packet of chocolate. + +'If I am watched over by the saints and Luigi,' she thought, and bit at +the chocolate. + +When the door had closed upon her, Luigi resumed his station near +it, warily casting his glances along the house-fronts, and moving his +springy little legs like a heath-cock alert. They carried him sharp to +an opposite corner of the street at a noise of some one running exposed +to all eyes right down the middle of the road, straight to the house: in +which foolish person he discerned Beppo, all of whose proceedings +Luigi observed and commented on from the safe obscurity under eaves and +starlight, while Beppo was in the light of the lamps. 'You thunder +at the door, my Beppo. You are a fire-balloon: you are going to burn +yourself up with what you carry. You think you can do something, because +you read books and frequent the talking theatres--fourteen syllables +to a word. Mother of heaven! will you never learn anything from natural +intelligence? There you are, in at the door. And now you will disturb +the signorina, and you will do nothing but make la Lazzeruola's ears +lively. Bounce! you are up the stairs. Bounce! you are on the landing. +Thrum! you drum at the door, and they are singing; they don't hear you. +And now you're meek as a mouse. That's it--if you don't hit the mark +when you go like a bullet, you 're stupid as lead. And they call you a +clever fellow! Luigi's day is to come. When all have paid him all round, +they will acknowledge Luigi's worth. You are honest enough, my Beppo; +but you might as well be a countryman. You are the signorina's servant, +but I know the turnings, said the rat to the cavaliere weazel.' + +In a few minutes Beppo stepped from the house, and flung himself with +his back against the lintel of the doorway. + +'That looks like determination to stop on guard,' said Luigi. + +He knew the exact feeling expressed by it, when one has come violently +on an errand and has done no good. + +'A flea, my feathery lad, will set you flying again.' + +As it was imperative in Luigi's schemes that Beppo should be set flying +again, he slipped away stealthily, and sped fast into the neighbouring +Corso, where a light English closed carriage, drawn by a pair of the +island horses, moved at a slow pace. Two men were on the driver's seat, +one of whom Luigi hailed to come down then he laid a strip of paper on +his knee, and after thumping on the side of his nose to get a notion of +English-Italian, he wrote with a pencil, dancing upon one leg all the +while for a balance:-- + + 'Come, Beppo, daughter sake, now, at once, immediate, + Beppo, signor.' + +'That's to the very extremity how the little signora Inglese would +write,' said Luigi; yet cogitating profoundly in a dubitative twinkle +of a second as to whether it might not be the English habit to wind up a +hasty missive with an expediting oath. He had heard the oath of emphasis +in that island: but he decided to let it go as it stood. The man he had +summoned was directed to take it straightway and deliver it to one who +would be found at the house-door of the Maestro Rocco Ricci. + +'Thus, like a drunken sentinel,' said Luigi, folding his arms, crossing +his legs, and leaning back. 'Forward, Matteo, my cherub.' + +'All goes right?' the coachman addressed Luigi. + +'As honey, as butter, as a mulberry leaf with a score of worms on it! +The wine and the bread and the cream-cheeses are inside, my dainty one, +are they? She must not starve, nor must I. Are our hampers fastened out +side? Good. We shall be among the Germans in a day and a night. I +'ve got the route, and I pronounce the name of the chateau very +perfectly--“Schloss Sonnenberg.” Do that if you can.' + +The unpractised Italian coachman declined to attempt it. He and Luigi +compared time by their watches. In three-quarters of an hour he was to +be within hail of the maestro's house. Thither Luigi quietly returned. + +Beppo's place there was vacant. + +'That's better than a draught of Asti,' said Luigi. + +The lighted windows of the maestro's house, and the piano striking +corrective notes, assured him that the special rehearsal was still going +on; and as he might now calculate on two or three minutes to spare, he +threw back his coat-collar, lifted his head, and distended his chest, +apparently to chime in with the singing, but simply to listen to it. +For him, it was imperative that he should act the thing, in order to +apprehend and appreciate it. + +A hurried footing told of the approach of one whom he expected. + +'Luigi!' + +'Here, padrone.' + +'You have the chocolate?' + +'Signor Antonio, I have deposited it in the carriage.' + +'She is in up there?' + +'I beheld her entering.' + +'Good; that is fixed fact.' The Signor Antonio drove at his moustache +right and left. 'I give you, see, Italian money and German money: German +money in paper; and a paper written out by me to explain the value of +the German paper-money. Silence, engine that you are, and not a man! I +am preventive of stupidity, I am? Do I not know that, hein? Am I in +need of the acclamation of you, my friend? On to the Chateau +Sonnenberg:--drive on, drive on, and one who stops you, you drive over +him: the gendarmes in white will peruse this paper, if there is any +question, and will pass you and the cage, bowing; you hear? It is a +pass; the military pass you when you show this paper. My good friend, +Captain Weisspriess, on the staff of General Pierson, gives it, signed, +and it is effectual. But you lose not the paper: put it away with the +paper-money, quite safe. For yourself, this is half your pay--I give +you napoleons; ten. Count. And now--once at the Chateau Sonnenberg, +I repeat, you leave her in charge of two persons, one a woman, at the +gate, and then back--frrrrr....' + +Antonio-Pericles smacked on the flat of his hand, and sounded a rapid +course of wheels. + +'Back, and drop not a crumb upon the road. You have your map. It is, +after Roveredo, straight up the Adige, by Bolzano... say “Botzen.”' + +'“Botz,”' said Luigi, submissively. + +'“Botz”--“Botz”--ass! fool! double idiot! “Botzon!”' Antonio-Pericles +corrected him furiously, exclaiming to the sovereign skies, 'Though I +pay for brains, can I get them! No. But make a fiasco, Luigi, and not a +second ten for you, my friend: and away, out of my sight, show yourself +no more!' + +Luigi humbly said that he was not the instrument of a fiasco. + +Half spurning him, Antonio-Pericles snarled an end both to his advices +and his prophetic disgust of the miserable tools furnished unto masterly +minds upon this earth. He paced forward and back, murmuring in French, +'Mon Dieu! was there ever such a folly as in the head of this girl? It +is her occasion:--Shall I be a Star? Shall I be a Cinder? It is tomorrow +night her moment of Birth! No; she prefers to be extinguished. For what? +For this thing she calls her country. It is infamous. Yes, vile little +cheat! But, do you know Antonio-Pericles? Not yet. I will nourish you, +I will imprison you: I will have you tortured by love, by the very devil +of love, by the red-hot pincers of love, till you scream a music, and +die to melt him with your voice, and kick your country to the gutter, +and know your Italy for a birthplace and a cradle of Song, and no more, +and enough! Bah!' + +Having thus delivered himself of the effervescence of his internal +agitation, he turned sharply round upon Luigi, with a military stamp of +the foot and shout of the man's name. + +'It is love she wants,' Antonio-Pericles resumed his savage soliloquy. +'She wants to be kindled on fire. Too much Government of brain; not +sufficient Insurrection of heart! There it is. There it lies. But, +little fool! you shall find people with arms and shots and cannon +running all up and down your body, firing and crying out “Victory for +Love!” till you are beaten, till you gasp “Love! love! love!” and then +comes a beatific--oh! a heaven and a hell to your voice. I will pay,' +the excited connoisseur pursued more deliberately: 'I will pay half my +fortune to bring this about. I am fortified, for I know such a voice was +sent to be sublime.' He exclaimed in an ecstasy: 'It opens the skies!' +and immediately appended: 'It is destined to suffocate the theatres!' + +Pausing as before a splendid vision: 'Money--let it go like dust! I have +an object. Sandra Belloni--you stupid Vittoria Campa!--I have millions +and the whole Austrian Government to back me, and you to be wilful, +little rebel! I could laugh. It is only Love you want. Your voice is +now in a marble chamber. I will put it in a palace of cedarwood. This +Ammiani I let visit you in the hope that he would touch you. + +Bah! he is a patriot--not a man! He cannot make you wince and pine, and +be cold and be hot, and--Bah! I give a chance to some one else who is +not a patriot. He has done mischief with the inflammable little Anna von +Lenkenstein--I know it. Your proper lovers, you women, are the broad, +the business lovers, and Weisspriess is your man.' + +Antonio-Pericles glanced up at the maestro's windows. 'Hark! it is +her voice,' he said, and drew up his clenched fists with rage, as if +pumping. 'Cold as ice! Not a flaw. She is a lantern with no light in +it--crystal, if you like. Hark now at Irma, the stork-neck. Aie! what +a long way it is from your throat to your head, Mademoiselle Irma! +You were reared upon lemons. The split hair of your mural crown is not +thinner than that voice of yours. It is a mockery to hear you; but you +are good enough for the people, my dear, and you do work, running up and +down that ladder of wires between your throat and your head;--you work, +it is true, you puss! sleek as a puss, bony as a puss, musical as a +puss. But you are good enough for the people. Hola!' + +This exclamation was addressed to a cavalier who was dismounting from +his horse about fifty yards down the street, and who, giving the reins +to a mounted servant, advanced to meet the Signor Antonio. + +'It is you, Herr Captain von Weisspriess!' + +'When he makes an appointment you see him, as a rule, my dear Pericles,' +returned the captain. + +'You are out of uniform--good. We will go up. Remember, you are a +connoisseur, from Bonn--from Berlin--from Leipsic: not of the K.K. army! +Abjure it, or you make no way with this mad thing. You shall see her and +hear her, and judge if she is worth your visit to Schloss Sonnenberg and +a short siege. Good: we go aloft. You bow to the maestro respectfully +twice, as in duty; then a third time, as from a whisper of your soul. +Vanitas, vanitatis! You speak of the 'UT de poitrine.' You remark: +“Albrechtsberger has said---,” and you slap your head and stop. They +think, “He is polite, and will not quote a German authority to us”: and +they think, “He will not continue his quotation; in truth, he scornfully +considers it superfluous to talk of counterpoint to us poor Italians.” + Your Christian name is Johann?--you are Herr Johannes. Look at her well. +I shall not expose you longer than ten minutes to their observation. +Frown meditative; the elbow propped and two fingers in the left cheek; +and walk into the room with a stoop: touch a note of the piano, leaning +your ear to it as in detection of five-fifteenths of a shade of discord. +Frown in trouble as of a tooth. So, when you smile, it is immense praise +to them, and easy for you.' + +The names of the Signor Antonio-Pericles and Herr Johannes were taken up +to the maestro. + +Tormented with curiosity, Luigi saw them enter the house. The face and +the martial or sanguinary reputation of Captain Weisspriess were not +unknown to him. 'What has he to do with this affair?' thought Luigi, and +sauntered down to the captain's servant, who accepted a cigar from him, +but was rendered incorruptible by ignorance of his language. He observed +that the horses were fresh, and were furnished with saddle-bags as for +an expedition. What expedition? To serve as escort to the carriage?--a +nonsensical idea. But the discovery that an idea is nonsensical is not +a satisfactory solution of a difficulty. Luigi squatted on his haunches +beside the doorstep, a little under one of the lower windows of Rocco +Ricci's house. Earlier than he expected, the captain and Signor Antonio +came out; and as soon as the door had closed behind them, the captain +exclaimed, 'I give you my hand on it, my brave Pericles. You have done +me many services, but this is finest of all. She's superb. She's a nice +little wild woman to tame. I shall go to the Sonnenberg immediately. +I have only to tell General Pierson that his nephew is to be prevented +from playing the fool, and I get leave at once, if there's no active +work.' + +'His nephew, Lieutenant Pierson, or Pole--hein?' interposed the Greek. + +'That 's the man. He 's on the Marshal's staff. He 's engaged to the +Countess Lena von Lenkenstein. She has fire enough, my Pericles.' + +'The Countess Anna, you say?' The Greek stretched forward his ear, and +was never so near getting it vigorously cuffed. + +'Deafness is an unpardonable offence, my dear Pericles.' + +Antonio-Pericles sniffed, and assented, 'It is the stupidity of the +ear.' + +'I said, the Countess Lena.' + +'Von Lenkenstein; but I choose to be further deaf.' + +'To the devil, sir. Do you pretend to be angry?' cried Weisspriess. + +'The devil, sir, with your recommendation, is too black for me to visit +him,' Antonio-Pericles rejoined. + +'By heaven, Pericles, for less than what you allow yourself to say, I've +sent men to him howling!' + +They faced one another, pulling at their moustachios. Weisspriess +laughed. + +'You're not a fighting man, Pericles.' + +The Greek nodded affably. 'One is in my way, I have him put out of my +way. It is easiest.' + +'Ah! easiest, is it?' Captain Weisspriess 'frowned meditative' over this +remarkable statement of a system. 'Well, it certainly saves trouble. +Besides, my good Pericles, none but an ass would quarrel with you. I was +observing that General Pierson wants his nephew to marry the Countess +Lena immediately; and if, as you tell me, this girl Belloni, who is +called la Vittoria--the precious little woman!--has such power over him, +it's quite as well, from the General's point of view, that she should +be out of the way at Sonnenberg. I have my footing at the Duchess of +Graath's. I believe she hopes that I shall some day challenge and kill +her husband; and as I am supposed to have saved Major de Pyrmont's +life, I am also an object of present gratitude. Do you imagine that your +little brown-eyed Belloni scented one of her enemies in me?' + +'I know nothing of imagination,' the Signor Antonio observed frigidly. + +'Till we meet!' Captain Weisspriess kissed his fingers, half as up +toward the windows, and half to the Greek. 'Save me from having to teach +love to your Irma!' + +He ran to join his servant. + +Luigi had heard much of the conversation, as well as the last sentence. + +'It shall be to la Irma if it is to anybody,' Luigi muttered. + +'Let Weisspriess--he will not awake love in her--let him kindle hate, +it will do,' said the Signor Antonio. 'She has seen him, and if he meets +her on the route to Meran, she will think it her fascination.' + +Looking at his watch and at the lighted windows, he repeated his special +injunctions to Luigi. 'It is near the time. I go to sleep. I am getting +old: I grow nervous. Ten-twenty in addition, you shall have, if all +is done right. Your weekly pay runs on. Twenty--you shall have thirty! +Thirty napoleons additional!' + +Ten fingers were flashed thrice. + +Luigi gave a jump. 'Padrone, they are mine.' + +'Animal, that shake your belly-bag and brain-box, stand!' cried the +Greek, who desired to see Luigi standing firm that he might inspire +himself with confidence in his integrity. When Luigi's posture had +satisfied him, he turned and went off at great strides. + +'He does pay,' Luigi reflected, seeing that immense virtue in his +patron. 'Yes, he pays; but what is he about? It is this question for +me--“Do I serve my hand? or, Do I serve my heart?” My hand takes the +money, and it is not German money. My heart gives the affection, and the +signorina has my heart. She reached me that cigarette on the Motterone +like the Madonna: it is never to be forgotten! I serve my heart! Now, +Beppo, you may come; come quick for her. I see the carriage, and there +are three stout fellows in it who could trip and muzzle you at a signal +from me before you could count the letters of your father's baptismal +name. Oh! but if the signorina disobeys me and comes out last!--the +Signor Antonio will ask the maestro, who will say, “Yes, la Vittoria was +here with me last of the two”; and I lose my ten, my twenty, my thirty +napoleons.' + +Luigi's chest expanded largely with a melancholy draught of air. + +The carriage meantime had become visible at the head of the street, +where it remained within hearing of a whistle. One of the Milanese hired +vehicles drove up to the maestro's door shortly after, and Luigi +cursed it. His worst fears for the future of the thirty napoleons were +confirmed; the door opened and the Maestro Rocco Ricci, bareheaded and +in his black silk dressing-gown, led out Irma di Karski, by some called +rival to la Vittoria; a tall Slavic damsel, whose laughter was not soft +and smooth, whose cheeks were bright, and whose eyes were deep in the +head and dull. But she had vivacity both of lips and shoulders. The +shoulders were bony; the lips were sharp and red, like winter-berries in +the morning-time. Freshness was not absent from her aspect. The critical +objection was that it seemed a plastered freshness and not true bloom; +or rather it was a savage and a hard, not a sweet freshness. Hence +perhaps the name which distinguished her la Lazzeruola (crab apple). It +was a freshness that did not invite the bite; sour to Italian taste. + +She was apparently in vast delight. 'There will be a perfect inundation +to-morrow night from Prague and Vienna to see me even in so miserable a +part as Michiella,' she said. 'Here I am supposed to be a beginner; I am +no debutante there.' + +'I can believe it, I can believe it,' responded Rocco, bowing for her +speedy departure. + +'You are not satisfied with my singing of Michiella's score! Now, tell +me, kind, good, harsh old master! you think that Miss Vittoria would +sing it better. So do I. And I can sing another part better. You do not +know my capacities.' + +'I am sure there is nothing you would not attempt,' said Rocco, bowing +resignedly. + +'There never was question of my courage.' + +'Yes, but courage, courage! away with your courage!' Rocco was spurred +by his personal grievances against her in a manner to make him forget +his desire to be rid of her. 'Your courage sets you flying at once at +every fioritura and bravura passage, to subdue, not to learn: not to +accomplish, but to conquer it. And the ability, let me say, is not in +proportion to the courage, which is probably too great to be easily +equalled; but you have the opportunity to make your part celebrated +to-morrow night, if, as you tell me, the house is to be packed with +Viennese, and, signorina, you let your hair down.' + +The hair of Irma di Karski was of singular beauty, and so dear to her +that the allusion to the triumphant feature of her person passed off +Rocco's irony in sugar. + +'Addio! I shall astonish you before many hours have gone by,' she +said; and this time they bowed together, and the maestro tripped back +hurriedly, and shut his door. + +Luigi's astonishment eclipsed his chagrin when he beheld the lady step +from her place, bidding the driver move away as if he carried a freight, +and indicating a position for him at the end of the street, with an +imperative sway and deflection of her hand. Luigi heard the clear thin +sound of a key dropped to her from one of the upper windows. She was +quick to seize it; the door opened stealthily to her, and she passed +out of sight without casting a look behind. 'That's a woman going to +discover a secret, if she can,' remarked the observer; meaning that +he considered the sex bad Generals, save when they have occasion to +preserve themselves secret; then they look behind them carefully enough. +The situation was one of stringent torment to a professional and natural +spy. Luigi lost count of minutes in his irritation at the mystery, which +he took as a personal offence. Some suspicion or wariness existed in +the lighted room, for the maestro threw up a window, and inspected the +street to right and left. Apparently satisfied he withdrew his head, and +the window was closed. + +In a little while Vittoria's voice rose audible out of the stillness, +though she restrained its volume. + +Its effect upon Luigi was to make him protest to her, whimpering with +pathos as if she heard and must be melted: 'Signorina! signorina, most +dear! for charity's sake! I am one of you; I am a patriot. Every man to +his trade, but my heart is all with you.' And so on, louder by fits, in +a running murmur, like one having his conscience ransacked, from which +he was diverted by a side-thought of Irma di Karski, la Lazzeruola, +listening, taking poison in at her ears; for Luigi had no hesitation in +ascribing her behaviour to jealousy. 'Does not that note drive through +your bosom, excellent lady? I can fancy the tremble going all down your +legs. You are poisoned with honey. How you hate it! If you only had a +dagger!' + +Vittoria sang but for a short space. Simultaneously with the cessation +of her song Ammiani reached the door, but had scarcely taken his +stand there when, catching sight of Luigi, he crossed the street, and +recognizing him, questioned him sternly as to his business opposite the +maestro's house. Luigi pointed to a female figure emerging. 'See! take +her home,' he said. Ammiani released him and crossed back hurriedly, +when, smiting his forehead, Luigi cried in despair, 'Thirty napoleons +and my professional reputation lost!' He blew a whistle; the carriage +dashed down from the head of the street. While Ammiani was following the +swiftly-stepping figure in wonderment (knowing it could not be Vittoria, +yet supposing it must be, without any clear aim of his wits), the +carriage drew up a little in advance of her; three men--men of bulk and +sinew jumped from it; one threw himself upon Ammiani, the others +grasped the affrighted lady, tightening a veil over her face, and the +carriage-door shut sharp upon her. Ammiani's assailant then fell away: +Luigi flung himself on the box and shouted, 'The signorina is behind +you!' And Ammiani beheld Vittoria standing in alarm, too joyful to know +that it was she. In the spasm of joy he kissed her hands. Before they +could intercommunicate intelligibly the carriage was out of their sight, +going at a gallop along the eastern strada of the circumvallation of the +city. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +AMMIANI THROUGH THE MIDNIGHT + +Ammiani hurried Vittoria out of the street to make safety sure. 'Home,' +she said, ashamed of her excitement, and not daring to speak more words, +lest the heart in her throat should betray itself. He saw what the +fright had done for her. Perhaps also he guessed that she was trying to +conceal her fancied cowardice from him. 'I have kissed her hands,' he +thought, and the memory of it was a song of tenderness in his blood by +the way. + +Vittoria's dwelling-place was near the Duomo, in a narrow thoroughfare +leading from the Duomo to the Piazza of La Scala, where a confectioner +of local fame conferred upon the happier members of the population most +piquant bocconi and tartlets, and offered by placard to give an emotion +to the nobility, the literati, and the epicures of Milan, and to all +foreigners, if the aforesaid would adventure upon a trial of his +art. Meanwhile he let lodgings. It was in the house of this famous +confectioner Zotti that Vittoria and her mother had lived after leaving +England for Italy. As Vittoria came under the fretted shadow of +the cathedral, she perceived her mother standing with Zotti at the +house-door, though the night was far advanced. She laughed, and walked +less hurriedly. Ammiani now asked her if she had been alarmed. 'Not +alarmed,' she said, 'but a little more nervous than I thought I should +be.' + +He was spared from putting any further question by her telling him that +Luigi, the Motterone spy, had in all probability done her a service +in turning one or other f the machinations of the Signor Antonio. 'My +madman,' she called this latter. 'He has got his Irma instead of me. We +shall have to supply her place tomorrow; she is travelling rapidly, and +on my behalf! I think, Signor Carlo, you would do well by going to the +maestro when you leave me, and telling him that Irma has been +caught into the skies. Say, “Jealous that earth should possess such +overpowering loveliness,” or “Attracted in spite of themselves by that +combination of genius and beauty which is found united nowhere but in +Irma, the spirits of heaven determined to rob earth of her Lazzeruola.” + Only tell it to him seriously, for my dear Rocco will have to work with +one of the singers all day, and I ought to be at hand by them to help +her, if I dared stir out. What do you think?' + +Ammiani pronounced his opinion that it would be perilous for her to go +abroad. + +'I shall in truth, I fear, have a difficulty in getting to La Scala +unseen,' she said; 'except that we are cunning people in our house. We +not only practise singing and invent wonderful confectionery, but we +do conjuring tricks. We profess to be able to deceive anybody whom we +please.' + +'Do the dupes enlist in a regiment?' said Ammiani, with an intonation +that professed his readiness to serve as a recruit. His humour striking +with hers, they smiled together in the bright fashion of young people +who can lose themselves in a ray of fancy at any season. + +Vittoria heard her mother's wailful voice. 'Twenty gnats in one,' she +said. + +Ammiani whispered quickly to know whether she had decided for the +morrow. She nodded, and ran up to her mother, who cried: + +'At this hour! And Beppo has been here after you, and he told me I +wrote for him, in Italian, when not a word can I put to paper: I +wouldn't!--and you are threatened by dreadful dangers, he declares. His +behaviour was mad; they are all mad over in this country, I believe. +I have put the last stitch to your dress. There is a letter or two +upstairs for you. Always letters!' + +'My dear good Zotti,' Vittoria turned to the artist in condiments, 'you +must insist upon my mother going to bed at her proper time when I am +out.' + +'Signorina,' rejoined Zotti, a fat little round-headed man, with +vivacious starting brown eyes, 'I have only to tell her to do a thing--I +pull a dog by the collar; be it said with reverence.' + +'However, I am very glad to see you both such good friends.' + +'Yes, signorina, we are good friends till we quarrel again. I regret +to observe to you that the respectable lady is incurably suspicious. Of +me--Zotti! Mother of heaven!' + +'It is you that are suspicious of me, sir,' retorted madame. 'Of me, of +all persons! It's “tell me this, tell me that,” all day with you; and +because I can't answer, you are angry.' + +'Behold! the signora speaks English; we have quarrelled again,' said +Zotti. + +'My mother thinks him a perfect web of plots,' Vittoria explained the +case between them, laughing, to Ammiani; 'and Zotti is persuaded that +she is an inveterate schemer. They are both entirely innocent, only they +are both excessively timid. Out of that it grows.' + +The pair dramatized her outline on the instant: + +'“Did I not see him speak to an English lady, and he will not tell me a +word about it, though she's my own countrywoman?”' + +'“Is it not true that she received two letters this afternoon, and still +does she pretend to be ignorant of what is going on?”' + +'Happily,' said Vittoria, 'my mother is not a widow, or these quarrels +might some day end in a fearful reconciliation.' + +'My child,' her mother whimpered, 'you know what these autumn nights are +in this country; as sure as you live, Emilia, you will catch cold, and +then you're like a shop with shutters up for the dead.' + +At the same time Zotti whispered: 'Signorina, I have kept the minestra +hot for your supper; come in, come in. And, little things, little dainty +bits!--do you live in Zotti's house for nothing? Sweetest delicacies +that make the tongue run a stream!--just notions of a taste--the palate +smacks and forgets; the soul seizes and remembers!' + +'Oh, such seductions!' Vittoria exclaimed. + +'It is,' Zotti pursued his idea, with fingers picturesquely twirling in +a spider-like distension; 'it is like the damned, and they have but a +crumb of a chance of Paradise, and down swoops St. Peter and has them +in the gates fast! You are worthy of all that a man can do for you, +signorina. Let him study, let him work, let him invent,--you are worthy +of all.' + +'I hope I am not too hungry to discriminate! Zotti I see Monte Rosa.' + +'Signorina, you are pleased to say so when you are famishing. It is +because--' the enthusiastic confectioner looked deep and oblique, as one +who combined a remarkable subtlety of insight with profound reflection; +'it is because the lighter you get the higher you mount; up like an +eagle of the peaks! But we'll give that hungry fellow a fall. A dish of +hot minestra shoots him dead. Then, a tart of pistachios and chocolate +and cream--and my head to him who shall reveal to me the flavouring!' + +'When I wake in the morning, I shall have lived a month or two in +Arabia, Zotti. Tell me no more; I will come in,' said Vittoria. + +'Then, signorina, a little crisp filbert--biscuit--a composition! You +crack it, and a surprise! And then, and then my dish; Zotti's dish, +that is not yet christened. Signorina, let Italy rise first; the great +inventor of the dish winked and nodded temperately. 'Let her rise. A +battle or a treaty will do. I have two or three original conceptions, +compositions, that only wait for some brilliant feat of arms, or a +diplomatic triumph, and I send them forth baptized.' + +Vittoria threw large eyes upon Ammiani, and set the underlids humorously +quivering. She kissed her fingers: 'Addio; a rivederla.' He bowed +formally: he was startled to find the golden thread of their +companionship cut with such cruel abruptness. But it was cut; the +door had closed on her. The moment it had closed she passed into his +imagination. By what charm had she allayed the fever of his anxiety? Her +naturalness had perforce given him assurance that peace must surround +one in whom it shone so steadily, and smiling at the thought of Zotti's +repast and her twinkle of subdued humour, he walked away comforted; +which, for a lover in the season of peril means exalted, as in a sudden +conflagration of the dry stock of his intelligence. 'She must have +some great faith in her heart,' he thought, no longer attributing his +exclusion from it to a lover's rivalry, which will show that more than +imagination was on fire within him. For when the soul of a youth can be +heated above common heat, the vices of passion shrivel up and aid the +purer flame. It was well for Ammiani that he did perceive (dimly though +it was perceived) the force of idealistic inspiration by which Vittoria +was supported. He saw it at this one moment, and it struck a light to +light him in many subsequent perplexities; it was something he had never +seen before. He had read Tuscan poetry to her in old Agostino's rooms; +he had spoken of secret preparations for the revolt; he had declaimed +upon Italy,--the poetry was good though the declamation may have been +bad,--but she had always been singularly irresponsive, with a practical +turn for ciphers. A quick reckoning, a sharp display of figures in +Italy's cause, kindled her cheeks and took her breath. Ammiani now +understood that there lay an unspoken depth in her, distinct from her +visible nature. + +He had first an interview with Rocco Ricci, whom he prepared to replace +Irma. + +His way was then to the office of his Journal, where he expected to be +greeted by two members of the Polizia, who would desire him to march +before the central bureau, and exhibit proofs of articles and the items +of news for inspection, for correction haply, and possibly for approval. +There is a partial delight in the contemplated submission to an act of +servitude for the last time. Ammiani stepped in with combative gaiety, +but his stiff glance encountered no enemy. This astonished him. He +turned back into the street and meditated. The Pope's Mouth might, he +thought, hold the key to the riddle. It is not always most comfortable +for a conspirator to find himself unsuspected: he reads the blank +significantly. It looked ill that the authorities should allow anything +whatsoever to be printed on such a morrow: especially ill, if they were +on the alert. The neighbourhood by the Pope's Mouth was desolate under +dark starlight. Ammiani got his fingers into the opening behind the +rubbish of brick, and tore them on six teeth of a saw that had been +fixed therein. Those teeth were as voluble to him as loud tongues. The +Mouth was empty of any shred of paper. They meant that the enemy was +ready to bite, and that the conspiracy had ceased to be active. He +perceived that a stripped ivy-twig, with the leaves scattered around it, +stretched at his feet. That was another and corroborative sign, clearer +to him than printed capitals. The reading of it declared that the Revolt +had collapsed. He wound and unwound his handkerchief about his fingers +mechanically: great curses were in his throat. 'I would start for South +America at dawn, but for her!' he said. The country of Bolivar still had +its attractions for Italian youth. For a certain space Ammiani's soul +was black with passion. He was the son of that fiery Paolo Ammiani who +had cast his glove at Eugene's feet, and bade the viceroy deliver it to +his French master. (The General was preparing to break his sword on his +knee when Eugene rushed up to him and kissed him.) Carlo was of this +blood. Englishmen will hardly forgive him for having tears in his eyes, +but Italians follow the Greek classical prescription for the emotions, +while we take example by the Roman. There is no sneer due from us. He +sobbed. It seemed that a country was lost. + +Ammiani had moved away slowly: he was accidentally the witness of a +curious scene. There came into the irregular triangle, and walking up +to where the fruitstalls stood by day, a woman and a man. The man was an +Austrian soldier. It was an Italian woman by his side. The sight of the +couple was just then like an incestuous horror to Ammiani. She led the +soldier straight up to the Mouth, directing his hand to it, and, what +was far more wonderful, directing it so that he drew forth a packet of +papers from where Ammiani had found none. Ammiani could see the light of +them in his hand. The Austrian snatched an embrace and ran. Ammiani was +moving over to her to seize and denounce the traitress, when he beheld +another figure like an apparition by her side; but this one was not a +whitecoat. Had it risen from the earth? It was earthy, for a cloud of +dust was about it, and the woman gave a stifled scream. 'Barto! Barto!' +she cried, pressing upon her eyelids. A strong husky laugh came from +him. He tapped her shoulder heartily, and his 'Ha! ha!' rang in the +night air. + +'You never trust me,' she whimpered from shaken nerves. + +He called her, 'Brave little woman! rare girl!' + +'But you never trust me!' + +'Do I not lay traps to praise you?' + +'You make a woman try to deceive you.' If she could! If only she could!' + +Ammiani was up with them. + +'You are Barto Rizzo,' he spoke, half leaning over the man in his +impetuosity. + +Barto stole a defensive rearward step. The thin light of dawn had in a +moment divided the extreme starry darkness, and Ammiani, who knew his +face, had not to ask a second time. It was scored by a recent sword-cut. +He glanced at the woman: saw that she was handsome. It was enough; he +knew she must be Barto's wife, and, if not more cunning than Barto, his +accomplice, his instrument, his slave. + +'Five minutes ago I would have sworn you were a traitress he said to +her. + +She was expressionless, as if she had heard nothing; which fact, +considering that she was very handsome, seemed remarkable to the young +man. Youth will not believe that stupidity and beauty can go together. + +'She is the favourite pupil of Bartolommeo Rizzo, Signor Carlo Ammiani,' +quoth Barto, having quite regained his composure. 'She is my pretty +puppet-patriot. I am not in the habit of exhibiting her; but since you +see her, there she is.' + +Barto had fallen into the Southern habit of assuming ease in +quasi-rhetorical sentences, but with wary eyes over them. The peculiar, +contracting, owl-like twinkle defied Ammiani's efforts to penetrate his +look; so he took counsel of his anger, and spoke bluntly. + +'She does your work?' + +'Much of it, Signor Carlo: as the bullet does the work of the rifle.' + +'Beast! was it your wife who pinned the butterfly to the Signorina +Vittoria's dress?' + +'Signor Carlo Ammiani, you are the son of Paolo, the General: you call +me beast? I have dandled you in my arms, my little lad, while the bands +played “There's yet a heart in Italy!” Do you remember it?' Barto sang +out half-a-dozen bars. 'You call me beast? I'm the one man in Milan who +can sing you that.' + +'Beast or man, devil or whatever you are!' cried Ammiani, feeling +nevertheless oddly unnerved, 'you have committed a shameful offence: +you, or the woman, your wife, who serves you, as I see. You have +thwarted the best of plots; you have dared to act in defiance of your +Chief--' + +'Eyes to him!' Barto interposed, touching over his eyeballs. + +'And you have thrown your accursed stupid suspicions on the Signorina +Vittoria. You are a mad fool. If I had the power, I would order you to +be shot at five this morning; and that 's the last rising of the light +you should behold. Why did you do it? Don't turn your hellish eyes in +upon one another, but answer at once! Why did you do it?' + +'The Signorina Vittoria,' returned Barto--his articulation came forth +serpent-like--'she is not a spy, you think. She has been in England: I +have been in England. She writes; I can read. She is a thing of whims. +Shall she hold the goblet of Italy in her hand till it overflows? She +writes love-letters to an English whitecoat. I have read them. Who +bids her write? Her whim! She warns her friends not to enter Milan. +She--whose puppet is she? Not yours; not mine. She is the puppet of an +English Austrian!' + +Barto drew back, for Ammiani was advancing. + +'What is it you mean?' he cried. + +'I mean,' said Ammiani, still moving on him, 'I mean to drag you first +before Count Medole, and next before the signorina; and you shall abjure +your slander in her presence. After that I shall deal with you. Mark me! +I have you: I am swifter on foot, and I am stronger. Come quietly.' + +Barto smiled in grim contempt. + +'Keep your foot fast on that stone, you're a prisoner,' he replied, +and seeing Ammiani coming, 'Net him, my sling-stone! my serpent!' +he signalled to his wife, who threw herself right round Ammiani in a +tortuous twist hard as wire-rope. Stung with irritation, and a sense of +disgrace and ridicule and pitifulness in one, Ammiani, after a struggle, +ceased the attempt to disentwine her arms, and dragged her clinging +to him. He was much struck by hearing her count deliberately, in her +desperation, numbers from somewhere about twenty to one hundred. One +hundred was evidently the number she had to complete, for when she had +reached it she threw her arms apart. Barto was out of sight. Ammiani +waved her on to follow in his steps: he was sick of her presence, and +had the sensations of a shame-faced boy whom a girl has kissed. She went +without uttering a word. + +The dawn had now traversed the length of the streets, and thrown open +the wide spaces of the city. Ammiani found himself singing, 'There's yet +a heart in Italy!' but it was hardly the song of his own heart. He slept +that night on a chair in the private room of his office, preferring not +to go to his mother's house. 'There 's yet a heart in Italy!' was on his +lips when he awoke with scattered sensations, all of which collected +in revulsion against the song. 'There's a very poor heart in Italy!' he +said, while getting his person into decent order; 'it's like the bell in +the lunatic's tower between Venice and the Lido: it beats now and then +for meals: hangs like a carrion-lump in the vulture's beak meanwhile!' + +These and some other similar sentiments, and a heat about the brows +whenever he set them frowning over what Barto had communicated +concerning an English Austrian, assured Ammiani that he had no proper +command of himself: or was, as the doctors would have told him, bilious. +It seemed to him that he must have dreamed of meeting the dark and +subtle Barto Rizzo overnight; on realizing that fact he could not +realize how the man had escaped him, except that when he thought over +it, he breathed deep and shook his shoulders. The mind will, as you +may know, sometimes refuse to work when the sensations are shameful +and astonished. He despatched a messenger with a 'good morrow' to his +mother, and then went to a fencing-saloon that was fitted up in the +house of Count Medole, where, among two or three, there was the ordinary +shrugging talk of the collapse of the projected outbreak, bitter to +hear. Luciano Romara came in, and Ammiani challenged him to small-sword +and broadsword. Both being ireful to boiling point, and mad to strike +at something, they attacked one another furiously, though they were dear +friends, and the helmet-wires and the padding rattled and smoked to the +thumps. For half an hour they held on to it, when, their blood being up, +they flashed upon the men present, including the count, crying shame to +them for letting a woman alone be faithful to her task that night. +The blood forsook Count Medole's cheeks, leaving its dead hue, as when +blotting-paper is laid on running-ink. He deliberately took a pair of +foils, and offering the handle of one to Ammiani, broke the button off +the end of his own, and stood to face an adversary. Ammiani followed the +example: a streak of crimson was on his shirt-sleeve, and his eyes +had got their hard black look, as of the flint-stone, before Romara in +amazement discovered the couple to be at it in all purity of intention, +on the sharp edge of the abyss. He knocked up their weapons and stood +between them, puffing his cigarette leisurely. + +'I fine you both,' he said. + +He touched Ammiani's sword-arm, nodded with satisfaction to find that +there was no hurt, and cried, 'You have an Austrian out on the ground by +this time tomorrow morning. So, according to the decree!' + +'Captain Weisspriess is in the city,' was remarked. + +'There are a dozen on the list,' said little Pietro Cardi, drawing out a +paper. + +'If you are to be doing nothing else to-morrow morning,' added Leone +Rufo, 'we may as well march out the whole dozen.' + +These two were boys under twenty. + +'Shall it be the first hit for Captain Weisspriess?' Count Medole said +this while handing a fresh and fairly-buttoned foil to Ammiani. + +Romara laughed: 'You will require to fence the round of Milan city, my +dear count, to win a claim to Captain Weisspriess. In the first place, I +yield him to no man who does not show himself a better man than I. It's +the point upon which I don't pay compliments.' + +Count Medole bowed. + +'But, if you want occupation,' added Luciano, closing his speech with a +merely interrogative tone. + +'I scarcely want that, as those who know me will tell you,' said Medole, +so humbly, that those who knew him felt that he had risen to his high +seat of intellectual contempt. He could indulge himself, having shown +his courage. + +'Certainly not; if you are devising means of subsistence for the +widows and orphans of the men who will straggle out to be slaughtered +to-night,' said Luciano; 'you have occupation in that case.' + +'I will do my best to provide for them,'--the count persisted in his air +of humility, 'though it is a question with some whether idiots +should live.' He paused effectively, and sucked in a soft smile of +self-approbation at the stroke. Then he pursued: 'We meet the day after +to-morrow. The Pope's Mouth is closed. We meet here at nine in the +morning. The next day at eleven at Farugino's, the barber's, in Monza. +The day following at Camerlata, at eleven likewise. Those who attend +will be made aware of the dispositions for the week, and the day we +shall name for the rising. It is known to you all, that without affixing +a stigma on our new prima-donna, we exclude her from any share in this +business. All the Heads have been warned that we yield this night to +the Austrians. Gentlemen, I cannot be more explicit. I wish that I could +please you better.' + +'Oh, by all means,' said Pietro Cardi: 'but patience is the pestilence; +I shall roam in quest of adventure. Another quiet week is a tremendous +trial.' + +He crossed foils with Leone Rufo, but finding no stop to the drawn +'swish' of the steel, he examined the end of his weapon with a +lengthening visage, for it was buttonless. Ammiani burst into laughter +at the spontaneous boyishness in the faces of the pair of ambitious +lads. They both offered him one of the rapiers upon equal terms. Count +Medole's example of intemperate vanity was spoiling them. + +'You know my opinion,' Ammiani said to the count. 'I told you last +night, and I tell you again to-day, that Barto Rizzo is guilty of gross +misconduct, and that you must plead the same to a sort of excuseable +treason. Count Medole, you cannot wind and unwind a conspiracy like a +watch. Who is the head of this one? It is the man Barto Rizzo. He took +proceedings before he got you to sanction them. You may be the vessel, +but he commands, or at least, he steers it.' + +The count waited undemonstratively until Ammiani had come to an end. +'You speak, my good Ammiani, with an energy that does you credit,' he +said, 'considering that it is not in your own interest, but another +person's. Remember, I can bear to have such a word as treason ascribed +to my acts.' + +Fresh visitors, more or less mixed, in the conspiracy, and generally +willing to leave the management of it to Count Medole, now entered the +saloon. These were Count Rasati, Angelo Dovili, a Piedmontese General, +a Tuscan duke, and one or two aristocratic notabilities and historic +nobodies. They were hostile to the Chief whom Luciano and Carlo revered +and obeyed. The former lit a cigarette, and saying to his friend, 'Do +you breakfast with your mother? I will come too,' slipped his hand on +Ammiani's arm; they walked out indolently together, with the smallest +shade of an appearance of tolerating scorn for those whom they left +behind. + +'Medole has money and rank and influence, and a kind of +I-don't-know-what womanishness, that makes him push like a needle for +the lead, and he will have the lead and when he has got the lead, there +'s the last chapter of him,' said Luciano. 'His point of ambition is the +perch of the weather-cock. Why did he set upon you, my Carlo? I saw the +big V running up your forehead when you faced him. If you had finished +him no great harm would have been done.' + +'I saw him for a short time last night, and spoke to him in my father's +style,' said Carlo. 'The reason was, that he defended Barto Rizzo for +putting the ring about the Signorina Vittoria's name, and causing the +black butterfly to be pinned to her dress.' + +Luciano's brows stood up. + +'If she sings to-night, depend upon it there will be a disturbance,' he +said. 'There may be a rising in spite of Medole and such poor sparks, +who're afraid to drop on powder, and twirl and dance till the wind blows +them out. And mind, the chance rising is commonly the luckiest. If I get +a command I march to the Alps. We must have the passes of the Tyrol. It +seems to me that whoever holds the Alps must ride the Lombard mare. You +spring booted and spurred into the saddle from the Alps.' + +Carlo was hurt by his friend's indifference to the base injury done to +Vittoria. + +'I have told Medole that she will sing to-night in spite of him,' he was +saying, with the intention of bringing round some reproach upon Luciano +for his want of noble sympathy, when the crash of an Austrian regimental +band was heard coming up the Corso. It stirred him to love his friend +with all his warmth. 'At any rate, for my sake, Luciano, you will +respect and uphold her.' + +'Yes, while she's true,' said Luciano, unsatisfactorily. The regiment, +in review uniform, followed by two pieces of artillery, passed by. Then +came a squadron of hussars and one of Uhlans, and another foot regiment, +more artillery, fresh cavalry. + +'Carlo, if three generations of us pour out our blood to fertilize +Italian ground, it's not too much to pay to chase those drilled curs.' +Luciano spoke in vehement undertone. + +'We 'll breakfast and have a look at them in the Piazza d'Armi, and show +that we Milanese are impressed with a proper idea of their power,' said +Carlo, brightening as he felt the correction of his morbid lover's anger +in Luciano's reaching view of their duties as Italian citizens. The +heat and whirl of the hour struck his head, for to-morrow they might be +wrestling with that living engine which had marched past, and surely +all the hate he could muster should be turned upon the outer enemy. He +gained his mother's residence with clearer feelings. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +COUNTESS AMMIANI + +Countess Ammiani was a Venetian lady of a famous House, the name of +which is as a trumpet sounding from the inner pages of the Republic. +Her face was like a leaf torn from an antique volume; the hereditary +features told the story of her days. The face was sallow and fireless; +life had faded like a painted cloth upon the imperishable moulding. +She had neither fire in her eyes nor colour on her skin. The thin close +multitudinous wrinkles ran up accurately ruled from the chin to the +forehead's centre, and touched faintly once or twice beyond, as you +observe the ocean ripples run in threads confused to smoothness within a +space of the grey horizon sky. But the chin was firm, the mouth and nose +were firm, the forehead sat calmly above these shows of decay. It was a +most noble face; a fortress face; strong and massive, and honourable in +ruin, though stripped of every flower. + +This lady in her girlhood had been the one lamb of the family dedicated +to heaven. Paolo, the General, her lover, had wrenched her from that +fate to share with him a life of turbulent sorrows till she should +behold the blood upon his grave. She, like Laura Fiaveni, had bent her +head above a slaughtered husband, but, unlike Laura, Marcellina Ammiani +had not buried her heart with him. Her heart and all her energies had +been his while he lived; from the visage of death it turned to her son. +She had accepted the passion for Italy from Paolo; she shared it with +Carlo. Italian girls of that period had as little passion of their own +as flowers kept out of sunlight have hues. She had given her son to her +country with that intensely apprehensive foresight of a mother's love +which runs quick as Eastern light from the fervour of the devotion to +the remote realization of the hour of the sacrifice, seeing both in one. +Other forms of love, devotion in other bosoms, may be deluded, but hers +will not be. She sees the sunset in the breast of the springing dawn. +Often her son Carlo stood a ghost in her sight. With this haunting +prophetic vision, it was only a mother, who was at the same time a +supremely noble woman, that could feel all human to him notwithstanding. +Her heart beat thick and fast when Carlo and Luciano entered the +morning-room where she sat, and stopped to salute her in turn. + +'Well?' she said without betraying anxiety or playing at carelessness. + +Carlo answered, 'Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die. I think +that's the language of peaceful men.' + +'You are to be peaceful men to-morrow, my Carlo?' + +'The thing is in Count Medole's hands,' said Luciano; 'and he is +constitutionally of our Agostino's opinion that we are bound to wait +till the Gods kick us into action; and, as Agostino says, Medole has +raised himself upon our shoulders so as to be the more susceptible to +their wishes when they blow a gale.' + +He informed her of the momentary thwarting of the conspiracy, and won +Carlo's gratitude by not speaking of the suspicion which had fallen on +Vittoria. + +'Medole,' he said, 'has the principal conduct of the business in Milan, +as you know, countess. Our Chief cannot be everywhere at once; so Medole +undertakes to decide for him here in old Milan. He decided yesterday +afternoon to put off our holiday for what he calls a week. Checco, the +idiot, in whom he confides, gave me the paper signifying the fact at +four o'clock. There was no appeal; for we can get no place of general +meeting under Medole's prudent management. He fears our being swallowed +in a body if we all meet.' + +The news sent her heart sinking in short throbs down to a delicious +rest; but Countess Ammiani disdained to be servile to the pleasure, even +as she had strengthened herself to endure the shocks of pain. It was a +conquered heart that she and every Venetian and Lombard mother had to +carry; one that played its tune according to its nature, shaping no +action, sporting no mask. If you know what is meant by that phrase, a +conquered heart, you will at least respect them whom you call weak women +for having gone through the harshest schooling which this world can show +example of. In such mothers Italy revived. The pangs and the martyrdom +were theirs. Fathers could march to the field or to the grey glacis with +their boys; there was no intoxication of hot blood to cheer those who +sat at home watching the rise and fall of trembling scales which said +life or death for their dearest. Their least shadowy hope could be but a +shrouded contentment in prospect; a shrouded submission in feeling. What +bloom of hope was there when Austria stood like an iron wall, and their +own ones dashing against it were as little feeble waves that left a red +mark and no more? But, duty to their country had become their religion; +sacrifice they accepted as their portion; when the last stern evil +befell them they clad themselves in a veil and walked upon an earth they +had passed from for all purposes save service of hands. Italy revived in +these mothers. Their torture was that of the re-animation of her frame +from the death-trance. + +Carlo and Luciano fell hungrily upon dishes of herb-flavoured cutlets, +and Neapolitan maccaroni, green figs, green and red slices of melon, +chocolate, and a dry red Florentine wine. The countess let them eat, and +then gave her son a letter that been delivered at her door an hour back +by the confectioner Zotti. It proved to be an enclosure of a letter +addressed to Vittoria by the Chief. Genoa was its superscription. From +that place it was forwarded by running relays of volunteer messengers. +There were points of Italy which the Chief could reach four-and-twenty +hours in advance of the Government with all its aids and machinery. +Vittoria had simply put her initials at the foot of the letter. Carlo +read it eagerly and cast it aside. It dealt in ideas and abstract +phraseology; he could get nothing of it between his impatient teeth; +he was reduced to a blank wonder at the reason for her sending it on to +him. It said indeed--and so far it seemed to have a meaning for her: + +'No backward step. We can bear to fall; we cannot afford to draw back.' + +And again: + +'Remember that these uprisings are the manifested pulsations of the +heart of your country, so that none shall say she is a corpse, and +knowing that she lives, none shall say that she deserves not freedom. It +is the protest of her immortal being against her impious violator.' + +Evidently the Chief had heard nothing of the counterstroke of Barto +Rizzo, and of Count Medole's miserable weakness: but how, thought +Carlo, how can a mind like Vittoria's find matter to suit her in such +sentences? He asked himself the question, forgetting that a little time +gone by, while he was aloof from the tumult and dreaming of it, this +airy cloudy language and every symbolism, had been strong sustaining +food, a vital atmosphere, to him. He did not for the moment (though by +degrees he recovered his last night's conception of her) understand that +among the noble order of women there is, when they plunge into strife, +a craving for idealistic truths, which men are apt, under the heat and +hurry of their energies, to put aside as stars that are meant merely for +shining. + +His mother perused the letter--holding it out at arm's length--and laid +it by; Luciano likewise. Countess Ammiani was an aristocrat: the tone +and style of the writing were distasteful to her. She allowed her son's +judgement of the writer to stand for her own, feeling that she could +surrender little prejudices in favour of one who appeared to hate the +Austrians so mortally. On the other hand, she defended Count Medole. +Her soul shrank at the thought of the revolution being yielded up to +theorists and men calling themselves men of the people--a class of men +to whom Paolo her soldier-husband's aversion had always been formidably +pronounced. It was an old and a wearisome task for Carlo to explain +to her that the times were changed and the necessities of the hour +different since the day when his father conspired and fought for +freedom. Yet he could not gainsay her when she urged that the nobles +should be elected to lead, if they consented to lead; for if they did +not lead, were they not excluded from the movement? + +'I fancy you have defined their patriotism,' said Carlo. + +'Nay, my son; but you are one of them.' + +'Indeed, my dearest mother, that is not what they will tell you.' + +'Because you have chosen to throw yourself into the opposite ranks.' + +'You perceive that you divide our camp, madame my mother. For me there +is no natural opposition of ranks. What are we? We are slaves: all are +slaves. While I am a slave, shall I boast that I am of noble birth? +“Proud of a coronet with gems of paste!” some one writes. Save me from +that sort of pride! I am content to take my patent of nobility for good +conduct in the revolution. Then I will be count, or marquis, or duke; +I am not a Republican pure blood;--but not till then. And in the +meantime--' + +'Carlo is composing for his newspaper,' the countess said to Luciano. + +'Those are the leaders who can lead,' the latter replied. 'Give the men +who are born to it the first chance. Old Agostino is right--the people +owe them their vantage ground. But when they have been tried and +they have failed, decapitate them. Medole looks upon revolution as a +description of conjuring trick. He shuffles cards and arranges them for +a solemn performance, but he refuses to cut them if you look too serious +or I look too eager; for that gives him a suspicion that you know what +is going to turn up; and his object is above all things to produce a +surprise.' + +'You are both of you unjust to Count Medole,' said the countess. 'He +imperils more than all of you.' + +'Magnificent estates, it is true; but of head or of heart not quite +so much as some of us,' said Luciano, stroking his thick black pendent +moustache and chin-tuft. 'Ah, pardon me; yes! he does imperil a finer +cock's comb. + +'When he sinks, and his vanity is cut in two, Medole will bleed so as to +flood his Lombard flats. It will be worse than death to him.' + +Carlo said: 'Do you know what our Agostino says of Count Medole?' + +'Oh, for ever Agostino with you young men!' the countess exclaimed. 'I +believe he laughs at you.' + +'To be sure he does: he laughs at all. But, what he says of Count Medole +holds the truth of the thing, and may make you easier concerning +the count's estates. He says that Medole is vaccine matter which the +Austrians apply to this generation of Italians to spare us the terrible +disease. They will or they won't deal gently with Medole, by-and-by; +but for the present he will be handled tenderly. He is useful. I wish +I could say that we thought so too. And now,' Carlo stooped to her and +took her hand, 'shall we see you at La Scala to-night?' + +The countess, with her hands lying in his, replied: 'I have received an +intimation from the authorities that my box is wanted.' + +'So you claim your right to occupy it!' + +'That is my very humble protest for personal liberty.' + +'Good: I shall be there, and shall much enjoy an introduction to the +gentleman who disputes it with you. Besides, mother, if the Signorina +Vittoria sings...' + +Countess Ammiani's gaze fixed upon her son with a level steadiness. His +voice threatened to be unequal. All the pleading force of his eyes was +thrown into it, as he said: 'She will sing: and she gives the signal; +that is certain. We may have to rescue her. If I can place her under +your charge, I shall feel that she is safe, and is really protected.' + +The countess looked at Luciano before she answered: + +'Yes, Carlo, whatever I can do. But you know I have not a scrap of +influence.' + +'Let her lie on your bosom, my mother.' + +'Is this to be another Violetta?' + +'Her name is Vittoria,' said Carlo, colouring deeply. A certain Violetta +had been his boy's passion. + +Further distracting Austrian band-music was going by. This time it was +a regiment of Italians in the white and blue uniform. Carlo and Luciano +leaned over the balcony, smoking, and scanned the marching of their +fellow-countrymen in the livery of servitude. + +'They don't step badly,' said one; and the other, with a smile of +melancholy derision, said, 'We are all brothers!' + +Following the Italians came a regiment of Hungarian grenadiers, tall, +swam-faced, and particularly light-limbed men, looking brilliant in the +clean tight military array of Austria. Then a squadron of blue hussars, +and Croat regiment; after which, in the midst of Czech dragoons and +German Uhlans and blue Magyar light horsemen, with General officers and +aides about him, the veteran Austrian Field-Marshal rode, his easy hand +and erect figure and good-humoured smile belying both his age and his +reputation among Italians. Artillery, and some bravely-clad horse of +the Eastern frontier, possibly Serb, wound up the procession. It gleamed +down the length of the Corso in a blinding sunlight; brass helmets and +hussar feathers, white and violet surcoats, green plumes, maroon capes, +bright steel scabbards, bayonet-points,--as gallant a show as some +portentously-magnified summer field, flowing with the wind, might +be; and over all the banner of Austria--the black double-headed eagle +ramping on a yellow ground. This was the flower of iron meaning on such +a field. + +The two young men held their peace. Countess Ammiani had pushed her +chair back into a dark corner of the room, and was sitting there when +they looked back, like a sombre figure of black marble. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +IN THE PIAZZA D'ARMI + +Carlo and Luciano followed the regiments to the Piazza d'Armi, drawn +after them by that irresistible attraction to youths who have as yet +had no shroud of grief woven for them--desire to observe the aspect of a +brilliant foe. + +The Piazza d'Armi was the field of Mars of Milan, and an Austrian review +of arms there used to be a tropical pageant. The place was too narrow +for broad manoeuvres, or for much more than to furnish an inspection +of all arms to the General, and a display (with its meaning) to the +populace. An unusually large concourse of spectators lined the square, +like a black border to a vast bed of flowers, nodding now this way, +now that. Carlo and Luciano passed among the groups, presenting the +perfectly smooth faces of young men of fashion, according to the +universal aristocratic pattern handed down to querulous mortals from +Olympus--the secret of which is to show a triumphant inaction of +the heart and the brain, that are rendered positively subservient to +elegance of limb. They knew the chances were in favour of their being +arrested at any instant. None of the higher members of the Milanese +aristocracy were visible; the people looked sullen. Carlo was attracted +by the tall figure of the Signor Antonio-Pericles, whom he beheld in +converse with the commandant of the citadel, out in the square, among +chatting and laughing General officers. At Carlo's elbow there came a +burst of English tongues; he heard Vittoria's English name spoken with +animation. 'Admire those faces,' he said to Luciano, but the latter was +interchanging quiet recognitions among various heads of the crowd; a +language of the eyelids and the eyebrows. When he did look round he +admired the fair island faces with an Italian's ardour: 'Their women are +splendid!' and he no longer pushed upon Carlo's arm to make way ahead. +In the English group were two sunny-haired girls and a blue-eyed lady +with the famous English curls, full, and rounding richly. This lady +talked of her brother, and pointed him out as he rode down the line in +the Marshal's staff. The young officer indicated presently broke away +and galloped up to her, bending over his horse's neck to join the +conversation. Emilia Belloni's name was mentioned. He stared, and +appeared to insist upon a contrary statement. + +Carlo scrutinized his features. While doing so he was accosted, and +beheld his former adversary of the Motter--one, with whom he had +yesterday shaken hands in the Piazza of La Scala. The ceremony was +cordially renewed. Luciano unlinked his arm from Carlo and left him. + +'It appears that you are mistaken with reference to Mademoiselle +Belloni,' said Captain Gambier. 'We hear on positive authority that she +will not appear at La Scala to-night. It's a disappointment; though, +from what you did me the honour to hint to me, I cannot allow myself to +regret it.' + +Carlo had a passionate inward prompting to trust this Englishman with +the secret. It was a weakness that he checked. When one really takes to +foreigners, there is a peculiar impulse (I speak of the people who are +accessible to impulse) to make brothers of them. He bowed, and said, +'She does not appear?' + +'She has in fact quitted Milan. Not willingly. I would have stopped the +business if I had known anything of it; but she is better out of the +way, and will be carefully looked after, where she is. By this time she +is in the Tyrol.' + +'And where?' asked Carlo, with friendly interest. + +'At a schloss near Meran. Or she will be there in a very few hours. I +feared--I may inform you that we were very good friends in England--I +feared that when she once came to Italy she would get into political +scrapes. I dare say you agree with me that women have nothing to do +with politics. Observe: you see the lady who is speaking to the Austrian +officer?--he is her brother. Like Mademoiselle Belloni he has adopted +a fresh name; it's the name of his uncle, a General Pierson in the +Austrian service. I knew him in England: he has been in our service. +Mademoiselle Belloni lived with his sisters for some years two or three. +As you may suppose, they are all anxious to see her. Shall I introduce +you? They will be glad to know one of her Italian friends.' + +Carlo hesitated; he longed to hear those ladies talk of Vittoria. 'Do +they speak French?' + +'Oh, dear, yes. That is, as we luckless English people speak it. Perhaps +you will more easily pardon their seminary Italian. See there,' Captain +Gambier pointed at some trotting squadrons; 'these Austrians have +certainly a matchless cavalry. The artillery seems good. The infantry +are fine men--very fine men. They have a “woodeny” movement; but that's +in the nature of the case: tremendous discipline alone gives homogeneity +to all those nationalities. Somehow they get beaten. I doubt whether +anything will beat their cavalry.' + +'They are useless in street-fighting,' said Carlo. + +'Oh, street-fighting!' Captain Gambier vented a soldier's disgust at the +notion. 'They're not in Paris. Will you step forward?' + +Just then the tall Greek approached the party of English. The +introduction was delayed. + +He was addressed by the fair lady, in the island tongue, as 'Mr. +Pericles.' She thanked him for his extreme condescension in deigning to +notice them. But whatever his condescension had been, it did not extend +to an admitted acquaintance with the poor speech of the land of fogs. An +exhibition of aching deafness was presented to her so resolutely, that +at last she faltered, 'What! have you forgotten English, Mr. Pericles? +You spoke it the other day.' + +'It is ze language of necessity--of commerce,' he replied. + +'But, surely, Mr. Pericles, you dare not presume to tell me you choose +to be ignorant of it whenever you please?' + +'I do not take grits into ze teeth, madame; no more.' 'But you speak it +perfectly.' + +'Perfect it may be, for ze transactions of commerce. I wish to keep my +teez.' + +'Alas!' said the lady, compelled, 'I must endeavour to swim in French.' + +'At your service, madame,' quoth the Greek, with an immediate doubling +of the length of his body. + +Carlo heard little more than he knew; but the confirmation of what +we know will sometimes instigate us like fresh intelligence, and the +lover's heart was quick to apprehend far more than he knew in one +direction. He divined instantaneously that the English-Austrian +spoken of by Barto Rizzo was the officer sitting on horseback within +half-a-dozen yards of him. The certainty of the thought cramped his +muscles. For the rest, it became clear to him that the attempt of the +millionaire connoisseur to carry off Vittoria had received the tacit +sanction of the Austrian authorities; for reasons quite explicable, Mr. +Pericles, as the English lady called him, distinctly hinted it, while +affirming with vehement self-laudation that his scheme had succeeded for +the vindication of Art. + +'The opera you will hear zis night,' he said, 'will be hissed. You will +hear a chorus of screech-owls to each song of that poor Irma, whom the +Italian people call “crabapple.” Well; she pleases German ears, and if +they can support her, it is well. But la Vittoria--your Belloni--you +will not hear; and why? She has been false to her Art, false! She has +become a little devil in politics. It is a Guy Fawkes femelle! She has +been guilty of the immense crime of ingratitude. She is dismissed to +study, to penitence, and to the society of her old friends, if they will +visit her.' + +'Of course we will,' said the English lady; 'either before or after our +visit to Venice--delicious Venice!' + +'Which you have not seen--hein?' Mr. Pericles snarled; 'and have not +smelt. There is no music in Venice! But you have nothing but street +tinkle-tinkle! A place to live in! mon Dieu!' + +The lady smiled. 'My husband insists upon trying the baths of Bormio, +and then we are to go over a pass for him to try the grape-cure at +Meran. If I can get him to promise me one whole year in Italy, our visit +to Venice may be deferred. Our doctor, monsieur, indicates our route. If +my brother can get leave of absence, we shall go to Bormio and to Meran +with him. He is naturally astonished that Emilia refused to see him; +and she refused to see us too! She wrote a letter, dated from the +Conservatorio to him, he had it in his saddlebag, and was robbed of it +and other precious documents, when the wretched, odious people set upon +him in Verona-poor boy! She said in the letter that she would see him in +a few days after the fifteenth, which is to-day! + +'Ah! a few days after the fifteenth, which is to-day,' Mr. Pericles +repeated. 'I saw you but the day before yesterday, madame, or I could +have brought you together. + +She is now away-off--out of sight--the perfule! Ah false that she is; +speak not of her. You remember her in England. There it was trouble, +trouble; but here, we are a pot on a fire with her; speak not of her. +She has used me ill, madame. I am sick.' + +His violent gesticulation drooped. In a temporary abandonment to +chagrin, he wiped the moisture from his forehead, unwilling or heedless +of the mild ironical mouthing of the ladies, and looked about; for Carlo +had made a movement to retire,--he had heard enough for discomfort. + +'Ah! my dear Ammiani, the youngest editor in Europe! how goes it with +you?' the Greek called out with revived affability. + +Captain Gambier perceived that it was time to present his Italian +acquaintance to the ladies by name, as a friend of Mademoiselle Belloni. + +'My most dear Ammiani,' Antonio-Pericles resumed; he barely attempted +to conceal his acrid delight in casting a mysterious shadow of coming +vexation over the youth; 'I am afraid you will not like the opera +Camilla, or perhaps it is the Camilla you will not like. But, shoulder +arms, march!' (a foot regiment in motion suggested the form of the +recommendation) 'what is not for to-day may be for to-morrow. Let us +wait. I think, my Ammiani, you are to have a lemon and not an orange. +Never mind. Let us wait.' + +Carlo got his forehead into a show of smoothness, and said, 'Suppose, my +dear Signor Antonio, the prophet of dark things were to say to himself, +“Let us wait?”' + +'Hein-it is deep.' Antonio-Pericles affected to sound the sentence, +eye upon earth, as a sparrow spies worm or crumb. 'Permit me,' he +added rapidly; an idea had struck him from his malicious reserve +stores,--'Here is Lieutenant Pierson, of the staff of the Field-Marshal +of Austria, unattached, an old friend of Mademoiselle Emilia +Belloni,--permit me,--here is Count Ammiani, of the Lombardia Milanese +journal, a new friend of the Signorina Vittoria Campa-Mademoiselle +Belloni the Signorina Campa--it is the same person, messieurs; permit me +to introduce you.' + +Antonio-Pericles waved his arm between the two young men. + +Their plain perplexity caused him to dash his fingers down each side of +his moustachios in tugs of enjoyment. + +For Lieutenant Pierson, who displayed a certain readiness to bow, had +caught a sight of the repellent stare on Ammiani's face; a still and +flat look, not aggressive, yet anything but inviting; like a shield. + +Nevertheless, the lieutenant's head produced a stiff nod. Carlo's did +not respond; but he lifted his hat and bowed humbly in retirement to the +ladies. + +Captain Gambier stepped aside with him. + +'Inform Lieutenant Pierson, I beg you,' said Ammiani, 'that I am at his +orders, if he should consider that I have insulted him.' + +'By all means,' said Gambier; 'only, you know, it's impossible for me to +guess what is the matter; and I don't think he knows.' + +Luciano happened to be coming near. Carlo went up to him, and stood +talking for half a minute. He then returned to Captain Gambier, and +said, 'I put myself in the hands of a man of honour. You are aware that +Italian gentlemen are not on terms with Austrian officers. If I am seen +exchanging salutes with any one of them, I offend my countrymen; and +they have enough to bear already.' + +Perceiving that there was more in the background, Gambier simply bowed. +He had heard of Italian gentlemen incurring the suspicion of their +fellows by merely being seen in proximity to an Austrian officer. + +As they were parting, Carlo said to him, with a very direct meaning in +his eyes, 'Go to the opera tonight.' + +'Yes, I suppose so,' the Englishman answered, and digested the look and +the recommendation subsequently. + +Lieutenant Pierson had ridden off. The war-machine was in motion from +end to end: the field of flowers was a streaming flood; regiment by +regiment, the crash of bands went by. Outwardly the Italians conducted +themselves with the air of ordinary heedless citizens, in whose bosoms +the music set no hell-broth boiling. Patrician and plebeian, they were +chiefly boys; though here and there a middle-aged workman cast a look +of intelligence upon Carlo and Luciano, when these two passed along the +crowd. A gloom of hoarded hatred was visible in the mass of faces, ready +to spring fierily. + +Arms were in the city. With hatred to prompt the blow, with arms to +strike, so much dishonour to avenge, we need not wonder that these +youths beheld the bit of liberty in prospect magnified by their mighty +obfuscating ardour, like a lantern in a fog. Reason did not act. They +were in such a state when just to say 'Italia! Italia!' gave them nerve +to match an athlete. So, the parading of Austria, the towering athlete, +failed of its complete lesson of intimidation, and only ruffled the +surface of insurgent hearts. It seemed, and it was, an insult to the +trodden people, who read it as a lesson for cravens: their instinct +commonly hits the bell. They felt that a secure supremacy would not have +paraded itself: so they divined indistinctly that there was weakness +somewhere in the councils of the enemy. When the show had vanished, +their spirits hung pausing, like the hollow air emptied of big sound, +and reacted. Austria had gained little more by her display than the +conscientious satisfaction of the pedagogue who lifts the rod to advise +intending juvenile culprits how richly it can be merited and how poor +will be their future grounds of complaint. + +But before Austria herself had been taught a lesson she conceived that +she had but one man and his feeble instruments, and occasional frenzies, +opposed to her, him whom we saw on the Motterone, which was ceasing to +be true; though it was true that the whole popular movement flowed from +that one man. She observed travelling sparks in the embers of Italy, and +crushed them under her heel, without reflecting that a vital heat must +be gathering where the spots of fire run with such a swiftness. It +was her belief that if she could seize that one man, whom many of the +younger nobles and all the people acknowledged as their Chief--for +he stood then without a rival in his task--she would have the neck of +conspiracy in her angry grasp. Had she caught him, the conspiracy for +Italian freedom would not have crowed for many long seasons; the torch +would have been ready, but not the magazine. He prepared it; it was he +who preached to the Italians that opportunity is a mocking devil when we +look for it to be revealed; or, in other words, wait for chance; as it +is God's angel when it is created within us, the ripe fruit of virtue +and devotion. He cried out to Italians to wait for no inspiration but +their own; that they should never subdue their minds to follow any alien +example; nor let a foreign city of fire be their beacon. Watching over +his Italy; her wrist in his meditative clasp year by year; he stood like +a mystic leech by the couch of a fair and hopeless frame, pledged to +revive it by the inspired assurance, shared by none, that life had not +forsaken it. A body given over to death and vultures-he stood by it in +the desert. Is it a marvel to you that when the carrion-wings swooped +low, and the claws fixed, and the beak plucked and savoured its morsel, +he raised his arm, and urged the half-resuscitated frame to some +vindicating show of existence? Arise! he said, even in what appeared +most fatal hours of darkness. The slack limbs moved; the body rose and +fell. The cost of the effort was the breaking out of innumerable wounds, +old and new; the gain was the display of the miracle that Italy lived. +She tasted her own blood, and herself knew that she lived. + +Then she felt her chains. The time was coming for her to prove, by the +virtues within her, that she was worthy to live, when others of her +sons, subtle and adept, intricate as serpents, bold, unquestioning as +well-bestridden steeds, should grapple and play deep for her in the game +of worldly strife. Now--at this hour of which I speak--when Austrians +marched like a merry flame down Milan streets, and Italians stood like +the burnt-out cinders of the fire-grate, Italy's faint wrist was still +in the clutch of her grave leech, who counted the beating of her pulse +between long pauses, that would have made another think life to be +heaving its last, not beginning. + +The Piazza d'Armi was empty of its glittering show. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE NIGHT OF THE FIFTEENTH + +We quit the Piazza d'Armi. Rumour had its home in Milan. On their way to +the caffe La Scala, Luciano and Carlo (who held together, determined +to be taken together if the arrest should come) heard it said that the +Chief was in Milan. A man passed by and uttered it, going. They stopped +a second man, who was known to them, and he confirmed the rumour. Glad +as sunlight once more, they hurried to Count Medole forgivingly. The +count's servant assured them that his master had left the city for +Monza. 'Is Medole a coward?' cried Luciano, almost in the servant's +hearing. The fleeing of so important a man looked vile, now that they +were sharpened by new eagerness. Forthwith they were off to Agostino, +believing that he would know the truth. They found him in bed. 'Well, +and what?' said Agostino, replying to their laughter. 'I am old; too old +to stride across a day and night, like you giants of youth. I take my +rest when I can, for I must have it.' + +'But, you know, O conscript father,' said Carlo, willing to fall a +little into his mood, 'you know that nothing will be done to-night.' + +'Do I know so much?' Agostino murmured at full length. + +'Do you know that the Chief is in the city?' said Luciano. + +'A man who is lying in bed knows this,' returned Agostino, 'that he +knows less than those who are up, though what he does know he perhaps +digests better. 'Tis you who are the fountains, my boys, while I am the +pool into which you play. Say on.' + +They spoke of the rumour. He smiled at it. They saw at once that the +rumour was false, for the Chief trusted Agostino. + +'Proceed to Barto, the mole,' he said, 'Barto the miner; he is the +father of daylight in the city: of the daylight of knowledge, you +understand, for which men must dig deep. Proceed to him;--if you can +find him.' + +But Carlo brought flame into Agostino's eyes. + +'The accursed beast! he has pinned the black butterfly to the +signorina's dress.' + +Agostino rose on his elbow. He gazed at them. 'We are followers of +a blind mole,' he uttered with an inner voices while still gazing +wrathfully, and then burst out in grief, '“Patria o mea creatrix, patria +o mea genetrix!”' + +'The signorina takes none of his warnings, nor do we. She escaped a plot +last night, and to-night she sings.' + +'She must not,' said Agostino imperiously. + +'She does.' + +'I must stop that.' Agostino jumped out of bed. + +The young men beset him with entreaties to leave the option to her. + +'Fools!' he cried, plunging a rageing leg into his garments. 'Here, +Iris! Mercury! fly to Jupiter and say we are all old men and boys in +Italy, and are ready to accept a few middleaged mortals as Gods, if they +will come and help us. Young fools! Do you know that when you conspire +you are in harness, and yoke-fellows, every one?' + +'Yoked to that Barto Rizzo!' + +'Yes; and the worse horse of the two. Listen, you pair of Nuremberg +puppet-heads! If the Chief were here, I would lie still in my bed. +Medole has stopped the outbreak. Right or wrong, he moves a mass; we are +subordinates--particles. The Chief can't be everywhere. Milan is too hot +for him. Two men are here, concealed--Rinaldo and Angelo Guidascarpi. +The rumour springs from that. They have slain Count Paul Lenkenstein, +and rushed to old Milan for work, with the blood on their swords. Oh, +the tragedy!--when I have time to write it. Let me now go to my girl, to +my daughter! The blood of the Lenkenstein must rust on the steel. Angelo +slew him: Rinaldo gave him the cross to kiss. You shall have the whole +story by-and-by; but this will be a lesson to Germans not to court our +Italian damsels. Lift not that curtain, you Pannonian burglars! Much +do we pardon; but bow and viol meet not, save that they be of one wood; +especially not when signor bow is from yonderside the Rhoetian Alps, and +donzella Viol is a growth of warm Lombardy. Witness to it, Angelo and +Rinaldo Guidascarpi! bravo! You boys there--you stand like two Tyrolese +salad-spoons! I say that my girl, my daughter, shall never help to fire +blank shot. I sent my paternal commands to her yesterday evening. Does +the wanton disobey her father and look up to a pair of rocket-headed +rascals like you? Apes! if she sings that song to-night, the ear of +Italy will be deaf to her for ever after. There's no engine to stir +to-night; all the locks are on it; she will send half-a-dozen milkings +like you to perdition, and there will be a circle of black blood about +her name in the traditions of the insurrection--do you hear? Have I +cherished her for that purpose? to have her dedicated to a brawl!' + +Agostino fumed up and down the room in a confusion of apparel, savouring +his epithets and imaginative peeps while he stormed, to get a relish +out of something, as beseems the poetic temperament. The youths were +silenced by him; Carlo gladly. + +'Troop!' said the old man, affecting to contrast his attire with theirs; +'two graces and a satyr never yet went together, and we'll not frighten +the classic Government of Milan. I go out alone. No, Signor Luciano, I +am not sworn to Count Medole. I see your sneer contain it. Ah! what a +thing is hurry to a mind like mine. It tears up the trees by the roots, +floods the land, darkens utterly my poor quiet universe. I was composing +a pastoral when you came in. Observe what you have done with my “Lovely +Age of Gold!”' + +Agostino's transfigurement from lymphatic poet to fiery man of action, +lasted till his breath was short, when the necessity for taking a deep +draught of air induced him to fall back upon his idle irony. 'Heads, +you illustrious young gentlemen!--heads, not legs and arms, move a +conspiracy. Now, you--think what you will of it--are only legs and arms +in this business. And if you are insubordinate, you present the shocking +fabular spirit of the members of the body in revolt; which is not the +revolt we desire to see. I go to my daughter immediately, and we shall +all have a fat sleep for a week, while the Tedeschi hunt and stew and +exhaust their naughty suspicions. Do you know that the Pope's Mouth is +closed? We made it tell a big lie before it shut tight on its teeth--a +bad omen, I admit; but the idea was rapturously neat. Barto, the +sinner--be sure I throttle him for putting that blot on my swan; only, +not yet, not yet: he's a blind mole, a mad patriot; but, as I say, our +beast Barto drew an Austrian to the Mouth last night, and led the dog +to take a letter out of it, detailing the whole plot of tonight, and +how men will be stationed at the vicolo here, ready to burst out on +the Corso, and at the vicolo there, and elsewhere, all over the city, +carrying fire and sword; a systematic map of the plot. It was addressed +to Count Serabiglione--my boys! my boys! what do you think of it? Bravo! +though Barto is a deadly beast if he--'Agostino paused. 'Yes, he went +too far! too far!' + +'Has he only gone too far, do you say?' + +Carlo spoke sternly. His elder was provoked enough by his deadness of +enthusiasm, and that the boy should dare to stalk on a bare egoistical +lover's sentiment to be critical of him, Agostino, struck him as +monstrous. With the treachery of controlled rage, Agostino drew near +him, and whispered some sentences in his ear. + +Agostino then called him his good Spartan boy for keeping brave +countenance. 'Wait till you comprehend women philosophically. All's +trouble with them till then. At La Scala tonight, my sons! We have +rehearsed the fiasco; the Tedeschi perform it. Off with you, that I may +go out alone!' + +He seemed to think it an indubitable matter that he would find Vittoria +and bend her will. + +Agostino had betrayed his weakness to the young men, who read him with +the keen eyes of a particular disapprobation. He delighted in the dark +web of intrigue, and believed himself to be no ordinary weaver of that +sunless work. It captured his imagination, filling his pride with a +mounting gas. Thus he had become allied to Medole on the one hand, +and to Barto Rizzo on the other. The young men read him shrewdly, but +speaking was useless. + +Before Carlo parted from Luciano, he told him the burden of the whisper, +which had confirmed what he had heard on the Piazzi d'Armi. It was this: +Barto Rizzo, aware that Lieutenant Pierson was the bearer of despatches +from the Archduke in Milan to the marshal, then in Verona, had followed, +and by extraordinary effort reached Verona in advance; had there tricked +and waylaid him, and obtained, instead of despatches, a letter of +recent date, addressed to him by Vittoria, which compromised the +insurrectionary project. + +'If that's the case, my Carlo!' said his friend, and shrugged, and spoke +in a very worldly fashion of the fair sex. + +Carlo shook him off. For the rest of the day he was alone, shut up with +his journalistic pen. The pen traversed seas and continents like an old +hack to whom his master has thrown the reins. Apart from the desperate +perturbation of his soul, he thought of the Guidascarpi, whom he knew, +and was allied to, and of the Lenkensteins, whom he knew likewise, +or had known in the days when Giacomo Piaveni lived, and Bianca von +Lenkenstein, Laura's sister, visited among the people of her country. +Countess Anna and Countess Lena von Lenkenstein were the German beauties +of Milan, lively little women, and sweet. Between himself and Countess +Lena there had been tender dealings about the age when sweetmeats have +lost their attraction, and the charm has to be supplied. She was rich, +passionate for Austria, romantic concerning Italy, a vixen in temper, +but with a pearly light about her temples that kept her picture in his +memory. And besides, during those days when women are bountiful to us +as Goddesses, give they never so little, she had deigned to fondle +hands with him; had set the universe rocking with a visible heave of +her bosom; jingled all the keys of mystery; and had once (as to embalm +herself in his recollection), once had surrendered her lips to him. +Countess Lena would have espoused Ammiani, believing in her power to +make an Austrian out of such Italian material. The Piaveni revolt had +stopped that and all their intercourse by the division of the White +Hand, as it was called; otherwise, the hand of the corpse. Ammiani had +known also Count Paul von Lenkenstein. To his mind, death did not mean +much, however pleasant life might be: his father and his friend had +gone to it gaily; and he himself stood ready for the summons: but the +contemplation of a domestic judicial execution, which the Guidascarpi +seemed to have done upon Count Paul, affrighted him, and put an end +to his temporary capacity for labour. He felt as if a spent shot were +striking on his ribs; it was the unknown sensation of fear. Changeing, +it became pity. 'Horrible deaths these Austrians die!' he said. + +For a while he regarded their lot as the hardest. A shaft of sunlight +like blazing brass warned him that the day dropped. He sent to his +mother's stables, and rode at a gallop round Milan, dining alone in one +of the common hotel gardens, where he was a stranger. A man may have +good nerve to face the scene which he is certain will be enacted, who +shrinks from an hour that is suspended in doubt. He was aware of the +pallor and chill of his looks, and it was no marvel to him when two +sbirri in mufti, foreign to Milan, set their eyes on him as they passed +by to a vacant table on the farther side of the pattering gold-fish +pool, where he sat. He divined that they might be in pursuit of the +Guidascarpi, and alive to read a troubled visage. 'Yet neither Rinaldo +nor Angelo would look as I do now,' he thought, perceiving that these +men were judging by such signs, and had their ideas. Democrat as he +imagined himself to be, he despised with a nobleman's contempt creatures +who were so dead to the character of men of birth as to suppose that +they were pale and remorseful after dealing a righteous blow, and that +they trembled! Ammiani looked at his hand: no force of his will could +arrest its palsy. The Guidascarpi were sons of Bologna. The stupidity +of Italian sbirri is proverbial, or a Milanese cavalier would have been +astonished to conceive himself mistaken for a Bolognese. He beckoned to +the waiter, and said, 'Tell me what place has bred those two fellows on +the other side of the fountain.' After a side-glance of scrutiny, the +reply was, 'Neapolitans.' The waiter was ready to make an additional +remark, but Ammiani nodded and communed with a toothpick. He was sure +that those Neapolitans were recruits of the Bolognese Polizia; on +the track of the Guidascarpi, possibly. As he was not unlike Angelo +Guidascarpi in figure, he became uneasy lest they should blunder 'twixt +him and La Scala; and the notion of any human power stopping him short +of that destination, made Ammiani's hand perfectly firm. He drew on his +gloves, and named the place whither he was going, aloud. 'Excellency,' +said the waiter, while taking up and pretending to reckon the money for +the bill: 'they have asked me whether there are two Counts Ammiani in +Milan.' Carlo's eyebrows started. 'Can they be after me?' he thought, +and said: 'Certainly; there is twice anything in this world, and Milan +is the epitome of it.' + +Acting a part gave him Agostino's catching manner of speech. The waiter, +who knew him now, took this for an order to say 'Yes.' He had evidently +a respect for Ammiani's name: Carlo supposed that he was one of Milan's +fighting men. A sort of answer leading to 'Yes' by a circuit and the +assistance of the hearer, was conveyed to the sbirri. They were true +Neapolitans quick to suspect, irresolute upon their suspicions. He was +soon aware that they were not to be feared more than are the general +race of bunglers, whom the Gods sometimes strangely favour. They +perplexed him: for why were they after him? and what had made them ask +whether he had a brother? He was followed, but not molested, on his way +to La Scala. + +Ammiani's heart was in full play as he looked at the curtain of the +stage. The Night of the Fifteenth had come. For the first few moments +his strong excitement fronting the curtain, amid a great host of hearts +thumping and quivering up in the smaller measures like his own, together +with the predisposing belief that this was to be a night of events, +stopped his consciousness that all had been thwarted; that there +was nothing but plot, plot, counterplot and tangle, disunion, silly +subtlety, jealousy, vanity, a direful congregation of antagonistic +elements; threads all loose, tongues wagging, pressure here, pressure +there, like an uncertain rage in the entrails of the undirected earth, +and no master hand on the spot to fuse and point the intense distracted +forces. + +The curtain, therefore, hung like any common opera-screen; big only with +the fate of the new prima donna. He was robbed even of the certainty +that Vittoria would appear. From the blank aspect of the curtain he +turned to the house, which was crowding fast, and was not like listless +Milan about to criticize an untried voice. The commonly empty boxes +of the aristocracy were full of occupants, and for a wonder the white +uniforms were not in excess, though they were to be seen. The first +person whom Ammiani met was Agostino, who spoke gruffly. Vittoria had +been invisible to him. Neither the maestro, nor the impresario, nor the +waiting-woman had heard of her. Uncertainty was behind the curtain, as +well as in front; but in front it was the uncertainty which is tipped +with expectation, hushing the usual noisy chatter, and setting a +daylight of eyes forward. Ammiani spied about the house, and caught +sight of Laura Piaveni with Colonel Corte by her side. The Lenkensteins +were in the Archduke's box. Antonio-Pericles, and the English lady and +Captain Gambier, were next to them. The appearance of a white uniform in +his mother's box over the stage caused Ammiani to shut up his glass. He +was making his way thither for the purpose of commencing the hostilities +of the night, when Countess Ammiani entered the lobby, and took her +son's arm with a grave face and a trembling touch. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE PRIMA DONNA + +'Whover is in my box is my guest,' said the countess, adding a +convulsive imperative pressure on Carlo's arm, to aid the meaning of her +deep underbreath. She was a woman who rarely exacted obedience, and she +was spontaneously obeyed. No questions could be put, no explanations +given in the crash, and they threaded on amid numerous greetings in a +place where Milanese society had habitually ceased to gather, and found +itself now in assembly with unconcealed sensations of strangeness. A +card lay on the table of the countess's private retiring-room: it bore +the name of General Pierson. She threw off her black lace scarf. +'Angelo Guidascarpi is in Milan,' she said. 'He has killed one of the +Lenkensteins, sword to sword. He came to me an hour after you left; +the sbirri were on his track; he passed for my son. He is now under the +charge of Barto Rizzo, disguised; probably in this house. His brother +is in the city. Keep the cowl on your head as long as possible; if these +hounds see and identify you, there will be mischief.' She said no more, +satisfied that she was understood, but opening the door of the box, +passed in, and returned a stately acknowledgement of the salutations of +two military officers. Carlo likewise bent his head to them; it was like +bending his knee, for in the younger of the two intruders he recognized +Lieutenant Pierson. The countess accepted a vacated seat; the cavity of +her ear accepted the General's apologies. He informed her that he deeply +regretted the intrusion; he was under orders to be present at the +opera, and to be as near the stage as possible, the countess's box being +designated. Her face had the unalterable composure of a painted head +upon an old canvas. The General persisted in tendering excuses. She +replied, 'It is best, when one is too weak to resist, to submit to an +outrage quietly.' General Pierson at once took the position assigned to +him; it was not an agreeable one. Between Carlo and the lieutenant no +attempt at conversation was made. + +The General addressed his nephew in English. 'Did you see the girl +behind the scenes, Wilfrid?' + +The answer was 'No.' + +'Pericles has her fast shut up in the Tyrol: the best habitat for her if +she objects to a whipping. Did you see Irma?' + +'No; she has disappeared too.' + +'Then I suppose we must make up our minds to an opera without head or +tail. As Pat said of the sack of potatoes, “'twould be a mighty fine +beast if it had them.”' + +The officers had taken refuge in their opera-glasses, and spoke while +gazing round the house. + +'If neither this girl nor Irma is going to appear, there is no positive +necessity for my presence here,' said the General, reduced to excuse +himself to himself. 'I'll sit through the first scene and then beat a +retreat. I might be off at once; the affair looks harmless enough only, +you know, when there's nothing to see, you must report that you have +seen it, or your superiors are not satisfied.' + +The lieutenant was less able to cover the irksomeness of his situation +with easy talk. His glance rested on Countess Len a von Lenkenstein, a +quick motion of whose hand made him say that he should go over to her. + +'Very well,' said the General; 'be careful that you give no hint of +this horrible business. They will hear of it when they get home: time +enough!' + +Lieutenant Pierson touched at his sister's box on the way. She was very +excited, asked innumerable things,--whether there was danger? whether he +had a whole regiment at hand to protect peaceable persons? 'Otherwise,' +she said, 'I shall not be able to keep that man (her husband) in Italy +another week. He refused to stir out to-night, though we know that +nothing can happen. Your prima donna celestissima is out of harm's way.' + +'Oh, she is safe,--ze minx'; cried Antonio-Pericles, laughing and +saluting the Duchess of Graatli, who presented herself at the front of +her box. Major de Pyrmont was behind her, and it delighted the Greek +to point them out to the English lady, with a simple intimation of the +character of their relationship, at which her curls shook sadly. + +'Pardon, madame,' said Pericles. 'In Italy, a husband away, ze friend +takes title: it is no more.' + +'It is very disgraceful,' she said. + +'Ze morales, madame, suit ze sun.' + +Captain Gambier left the box with Wilfrid, expressing in one sentence +his desire to fling Pericles over to the pit, and in another his belief +that an English friend, named Merthyr Powys, was in the house. + +'He won't be in the city four-and-twenty hours,' said Wilfrid. + +'Well; you'll keep your tongue silent.' + +'By heavens! Gambier, if you knew the insults we have to submit to! The +temper of angels couldn't stand it. I'm sorry enough for these fellows, +with their confounded country, but it's desperate work to be civil to +them; upon my honour, it is! I wish they would stand up and let us have +it over. We have to bear more from the women than the men.' + +'I leave you to cool,' said Gambier. + +The delayed absence of the maestro from his post at the head of the +orchestra, where the musicians sat awaiting him, seemed to confirm a +rumour that was now circling among the audience, warning all to prepare +for a disappointment. His baton was brought in and laid on the book of +the new overture. When at last he was seen bearing onward through the +music-stands, a low murmur ran round. Rocco paid no heed to it. His +demeanour produced such satisfaction in the breast of Antonio-Pericles +that he rose, and was guilty of the barbarism of clapping his hands. +Meeting Ammiani in the lobby, he said, 'Come, my good friend, you shall +help me to pull Irma through to-night. She is vinegar--we will mix her +with oil. It is only for to-night, to save that poor Rocco's opera.' + +'Irma!' said Ammiani; 'she is by this time in Tyrol. Your Irma will have +some difficulty in showing herself here within sixty hours.' + +'How!' cried Pericles, amazed, and plucking after Carlo to stop him. 'I +bet you--' + +'How much?' + +'I bet you a thousand florins you do not see la Vittoria to-night.' + +'Good. I bet you a thousand florins you do not see Irma.' + +'No Vittoria, I say!' + +'And I say, no Lazzeruola!' + +Agostino, who was pacing the lobby, sent Pericles distraught with the +same tale of the rape of Irma. He rushed to Signora Piaveni's box and +heard it repeated. There he beheld, sitting in the background, an old +English acquaintance, with whom Captain Gambier was conversing. + +'My dear Powys, you have come all the way from England to see your +favourite's first night. You will be shocked, sir. She has neglected +her Art. She is exiled, banished, sent away to study and to compose her +mind.' + +'I think you are mistaken,' said Laura. 'You will see her almost +immediately.' + +'Signora, pardon me; do I not know best?' + +'You may have contrived badly.' + +Pericles blinked and gnawed his moustache as if it were food for +patience. + +'I would wager a milliard of francs,' he muttered. With absolute pathos +he related to Mr. Powys the aberrations of the divinely-gifted voice, +the wreck which Vittoria strove to become, and from which he alone +was striving to rescue her. He used abundant illustrations, coarse and +quaint, and was half hysterical; flashing a white fist and thumping +the long projection of his knee with a wolfish aspect. His grotesque +sincerity was little short of the shedding of tears. + +'And your sister, my dear Powys?' he asked, as one returning to the +consideration of shadows. + +'My sister accompanies me, but not to the opera.' + +'For another campaign--hein?' + +'To winter in Italy, at all events.' + +Carlo Ammiani entered and embraced Merthyr Powys warmly. The Englishman +was at home among Italians: Pericles, feeling that he was not so, and +regarding them all as a community of fever-patients without hospital, +retired. To his mind it was the vilest treason, the grossest +selfishness, to conspire or to wink at the sacrifice of a voice +like Vittoria's to such a temporal matter as this, which they called +patriotism. He looked on it as one might look on the Hindoo drama of a +Suttee. He saw in it just that stupid action of a whole body of fanatics +combined to precipitate the devotion of a precious thing to extinction. +And worse; for life was common, and women and Hindoo widows were common; +but a Vittorian voice was but one in a generation--in a cycle of +years. The religious belief of the connoisseur extended to the devout +conception that her voice was a spiritual endowment, the casting of +which priceless jewel into the bloody ditch of patriots was far more +tragic and lamentable than any disastrous concourse of dedicated lives. +He shook the lobby with his tread, thinking of the great night this +might have been but for Vittoria's madness. The overture was coming to +an end. By tightening his arms across his chest he gained some outward +composure, and fixed his eyes upon the stage. + +While sitting with Laura Piaveni and Merthyr Powys, Ammiani saw the +apparition of Captain Weisspriess in his mother's box. He forgot her +injunction, and hurried to her side, leaving the doors open. His passion +of anger spurned her admonishing grasp of his arm, and with his glove +he smote the Austrian officer on the face. Weisspriess plucked his sword +out; the house rose; there was a moment like that of a wild beast's +show of teeth. It passed: Captain Weisspriess withdrew in obedience to +General Pierson's command. The latter wrote on a slip of paper that two +pieces of artillery should be placed in position, and a squad of men +about the doors: he handed it out to Weisspriess. + +'I hope,' the General said to Carlo, 'we shall be able to arrange things +for you without the interposition of the authorities.' + +Carlo rejoined, 'General, he has the blood of our family on his hands. I +am ready.' + +The General bowed. He glanced at the countess for a sign of maternal +weakness, saw none, and understood that a duel was down in the morrow's +bill of entertainments, as well as a riot possibly before dawn. The +house had revealed its temper in that short outburst, as a quivering of +quick lightning-flame betrays the forehead of the storm. + +Countess Ammiani bade her son make fast the outer door. Her sedate +energies could barely control her agitation. In helping Angelo +Guidascarpi to evade the law, she had imperilled her son and herself. +Many of the Bolognese sbirri were in pursuit of Angelo. Some knew his +person; some did not; but if those two before whom she had identified +Angelo as being her son Carlo chanced now to be in the house, and to +have seen him, and heard his name, the risks were great and various. + +'Do you know that handsome young Count Ammiani?' Countess Lena said to +Wilfrid. 'Perhaps you do not think him handsome? He was for a short time +a play-fellow of mine. He is more passionate than I am, and that does +not say a little; I warn you! Look how excited he is. No wonder. He +is--everybody knows it--he is la Vittoria's lover.' + +Countess Lena uttered that sentence in Italian. The soft tongue sent it +like a coiling serpent through Wilfrid's veins. In English or in German +it would not have possessed the deadly meaning. + +She may have done it purposely, for she and her sister Countess Anna +studied his face. The lifting of the curtain drew all eyes to the stage. + +Rocco Ricci's baton struck for the opening of one of his spirited +choruses; a chorus of villagers, who sing to the burden that Happiness, +the aim of all humanity, has promised to visit the earth this day, that +she may witness the union of the noble lovers, Camillo and Camilla. Then +a shepherd sings a verse, with his hand stretched out to the impending +castle. There lives Count Orso: will he permit their festivities to pass +undisturbed? The puling voice is crushed by the chorus, which protests +that the heavens are above Count Orso. But another villager tells of +Orso's power, and hints at his misdeeds. The chorus rises in reply, +warning all that Count Orso has ears wherever three are congregated; the +villagers break apart and eye one another distrustfully, reuniting +to the song of Happiness before they disperse. Camillo enters solus. +Montini, as Camillo, enjoyed a warm reception; but as he advanced to +deliver his canzone, it was seen that he and Rocco interchanged glances +of desperate resignation. Camillo has had love passages with Michiella, +Count Orso's daughter, and does not hesitate to declare that he dreads +her. The orphan Camilla, who has been reared in yonder castle with her, +as her sister, is in danger during all these last minutes which still +retain her from his arms. + +'If I should never see her--I who, like a poor ghost upon the shores of +the dead river, have been flattered with the thought that she would fall +upon my breast like a ray of the light of Elysium--if I should never see +her more!' The famous tenore threw his whole force into that outcry of +projected despair, and the house was moved by it: there were many in the +house who shared his apprehension of a foul mischance. + +Thenceforward the opera and the Italian audience were as one. All that +was uttered had a meaning, and was sympathetically translated. +Camilla they perceived to be a grave burlesque with a core to it. The +quick-witted Italians caught up the interpretation in a flash. 'Count +Orso' Austria; 'Michiella' is Austria's spirit of intrigue; 'Camillo' is +indolent Italy, amorous Italy, Italy aimless; 'Camilla' is YOUNG ITALY! + +Their eagerness for sight of Vittoria was now red-hot, and when Camillo +exclaimed 'She comes!' many rose from their seats. + +A scrap of paper was handed to Antonio-Pericles from Captain +Weisspriess, saying briefly that he had found Irma in the carriage +instead of the little 'v,' thanked him for the joke, and had brought her +back. Pericles was therefore not surprised when Irma, as Michiella, came +on, breathless, and looking in an excitement of anger; he knew that he +had been tricked. + +Between Camillo and Michiella a scene of some vivacity +ensued--reproaches, threats of calamity, offers of returning endearment +upon her part; a display of courtly scorn upon his. Irma made her voice +claw at her quondam lover very finely; it was a voice with claws, that +entered the hearing sharp-edged, and left it plucking at its repose. +She was applauded relishingly when, after vainly wooing him, she turned +aside and said-- + + 'What change is this in one who like a reed + Bent to my twisting hands? Does he recoil? + Is this the hound whom I have used to feed + With sops of vinegar and sops of oil?' + +Michiella's further communications to the audience make it known that +she has allowed the progress toward the ceremonies of espousal between +Camillo and Camilla, in order, at the last moment, to show her power +over the youth and to plunge the detested Camilla into shame and +wretchedness. + +Camillo retires: Count Orso appears. There is a duet between father and +daughter: she confesses her passion for Camillo, and entreats her father +to stop the ceremony; and here the justice of the feelings of Italians, +even in their heat of blood, was noteworthy. Count Orso says that he +would willingly gratify his daughter, as it would gratify himself, but +that he must respect the law. 'The law is of your own making,' says +Michiella. 'Then, the more must I respect it,' Count Orso replies. + +The audience gave Austria credit for that much in a short murmur. + +Michiella's aside, 'Till anger seizes him I wait!' created laughter; it +came in contrast with an extraordinary pomposity of self-satisfaction +exhibited by Count Orso--the flower-faced, tun-bellied basso, Lebruno. +It was irresistible. He stood swollen out like a morning cock. To make +it further telling, he took off his yellow bonnet with a black-gloved +hand, and thumped the significant colours prominently on his immense +chest--an idea, not of Agostino's, but Lebruno's own; and Agostino +cursed with fury. Both he and Rocco knew that their joint labour would +probably have only one night's display of existence in the Austrian +dominions, but they grudged to Lebruno the chief merit of despatching it +to the Shades. + +The villagers are heard approaching. 'My father!' cries Michiella, +distractedly; 'the hour is near: it will be death to your daughter! +Imprison Camillo: I can bring twenty witnesses to prove that he has +sworn you are illegally the lord of this country. You will rue the +marriage. Do as you once did. Be bold in time. The arrow-head is on the +string-cut the string!' + +'As I once did?' replies Orso with frown terrific, like a black crest. +He turns broadly and receives the chorus of countrymen in paternal +fashion--an admirably acted bit of grave burlesque. + +By this time the German portion of the audience had, by one or other +of the senses, dimly divined that the opera was a shadow of something +concealed--thanks to the buffo-basso Lebruno. Doubtless they would +have seen this before, but that the Austrian censorship had seemed so +absolute a safeguard. + +'My children! all are my children in this my gladsome realm!' Count Orso +says, and marches forth, after receiving the compliment of a choric song +in honour of his paternal government. Michiella follows him. + +Then came the deep suspension of breath. For, as upon the midnight you +count bell-note after bell-note of the toiling hour, and know not in the +darkness whether there shall be one beyond it, so that you hang over +an abysm until Twelve is sounded, audience and actors gazed with equal +expectation at the path winding round from the castle, waiting for the +voice of the new prima donna. + +'Mia madre!' It issued tremblingly faint. None could say who was to +appear. + +Rocco Ricci struck twice with his baton, flung a radiant glance across +his shoulders for all friends, and there was joy in the house. Vittoria +stood before them. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE OPERA OF CAMILLA + +She was dressed like a noble damsel from the hands of Titian. An Italian +audience cannot but be critical in their first glance at a prima donna, +for they are asked to do homage to a queen who is to be taken on her +merits: all that they have heard and have been taught to expect of +her is compared swiftly with the observation of her appearance and +her manner. She is crucially examined to discover defects. There is +no boisterous loyalty at the outset. And as it was now evident that +Vittoria had chosen to impersonate a significant character, her +indications of method were jealously watched for a sign of inequality, +either in her, motion, or the force of her eyes. So silent a reception +might have seemed cruel in any other case; though in all cases the +candidate for laurels must, in common with the criminal, go through the +ordeal of justification. Men do not heartily bow their heads until +they have subjected the aspirant to some personal contest, and find +themselves overmatched. The senses, ready to become so slavish in +adulation and delight, are at the beginning more exacting than the +judgement, more imperious than the will. A figure in amber and pale blue +silk was seen, such as the great Venetian might have sketched from his +windows on a day when the Doge went forth to wed the Adriatic a superb +Italian head, with dark banded hair-braid, and dark strong eyes under +unabashed soft eyelids! She moved as, after long gazing at a painting +of a fair woman, we may have the vision of her moving from the frame. +It was an animated picture of ideal Italia. The sea of heads right up to +the highest walls fronted her glistening, and she was mute as moonrise. +A virgin who loosens a dove from her bosom does it with no greater +effort than Vittoria gave out her voice. The white bird flutters +rapidly; it circles and takes its flight. The voice seemed to be as +little the singer's own. + +The theme was as follows:--Camilla has dreamed overnight that her lost +mother came to her bedside to bless her nuptials. Her mother was folded +in a black shroud, looking formless as death, like very death, save +that death sheds no tears. She wept, without change of voice, or mortal +shuddering, like one whose nature weeps: 'And with the forth-flowing of +her tears the knowledge of her features was revealed to me.' Behold the +Adige, the Mincio, Tiber, and the Po!--such great rivers were the tears +pouring from her eyes. She threw apart the shroud: her breasts and her +limbs were smooth and firm as those of an immortal Goddess: but breasts +and limbs showed the cruel handwriting of base men upon the body of +a martyred saint. The blood from those deep gashes sprang out at +intervals, mingling with her tears. She said: + +'My child! were I a Goddess, my wounds would heal. Were I a Saint, I +should be in Paradise. I am no Goddess, and no Saint: yet I cannot +die. My wounds flow and my tears. My tears flow because of no fleshly +anguish: I pardon my enemies. My blood flows from my body, my tears from +my soul. They flow to wash out my shame. I have to expiate my soul's +shame by my body's shame. Oh! how shall I tell you what it is to walk +among my children unknown of them, though each day I bear the sun abroad +like my beating heart; each night the moon, like a heart with no blood +in it. Sun and moon they see, but not me! They know not their mother. I +cry to God. The answer of our God is this:--“Give to thy children one by +one to drink of thy mingled tears and blood:--then, if there is virtue +in them, they shall revive, thou shaft revive. If virtue is not in them, +they and thou shall continue prostrate, and the ox shall walk over you.” + From heaven's high altar, O Camilla, my child, this silver sacramental +cup was reached to me. Gather my tears in it, fill it with my blood, and +drink.' + +The song had been massive in monotones, almost Gregorian in its severity +up to this point. + +'I took the cup. I looked my mother in the face. I filled the cup from +the flowing of her tears, the flowing of her blood; and I drank!' + +Vittoria sent this last phrase ringing out forcefully. From the +inveterate contralto of the interview, she rose to pure soprano in +describing her own action. 'And I drank,' was given on a descent of the +voice: the last note was in the minor key--it held the ear as if +more must follow: like a wail after a triumph of resolve. It was +a masterpiece of audacious dramatic musical genius addressed with +sagacious cunning and courage to the sympathizing audience present. The +supposed incompleteness kept them listening; the intentness sent that +last falling (as it were, broken) note travelling awakeningly through +their minds. It is the effect of the minor key to stir the hearts of +men with this particular suggestiveness. The house rose, Italians--and +Germans together. Genius, music, and enthusiasm break the line of +nationalities. A rain of nosegays fell about Vittoria; evvivas, bravas, +shouts--all the outcries of delirious men surrounded her. Men and women, +even among the hardened chorus, shook together and sobbed. 'Agostino!' +and 'Rocco!' were called; 'Vittoria!' 'Vittoria!' above all, with +increasing thunder, like a storm rushing down a valley, striking in +broad volume from rock to rock, humming remote, and bursting up again +in the face of the vale. Her name was sung over and over--'Vittoria! +Vittoria!' as if the mouths were enamoured of it. + +'Evviva la Vittoria a d' Italia!' was sung out from the body of the +house. + +An echo replied--'“Italia a il premio della VITTORIA!”' a well-known +saying gloriously adapted, gloriously rescued from disgrace. + +But the object and source of the tremendous frenzy stood like one frozen +by the revelation of the magic the secret of which she has studiously +mastered. A nosegay, the last of the tributary shower, discharged from +a distance, fell at her feet. She gave it unconsciously preference over +the rest, and picked it up. A little paper was fixed in the centre. +She opened it with a mechanical hand, thinking there might be patriotic +orders enclosed for her. It was a cheque for one thousand guineas, drawn +upon an English banker by the hand of Antonio-Pericles Agriolopoulos; +freshly drawn; the ink was only half dried, showing signs of the +dictates of a furious impulse. This dash of solid prose, and its +convincing proof that her Art had been successful, restored Vittoria's +composure, though not her early statuesque simplicity. Rocco gave an +inquiring look to see if she would repeat the song. She shook her head +resolutely. Her opening of the paper in the bouquet had quieted the +general ebullition, and the expression of her wish being seen, the +chorus was permitted to usurp her place. Agostino paced up and down the +lobby, fearful that he had been guilty of leading her to anticlimax. + +He met Antonio-Pericles, and told him so; adding (for now the mask had +been seen through, and was useless any further) that he had not had the +heart to put back that vision of Camilla's mother to a later scene, lest +an interruption should come which would altogether preclude its being +heard. Pericles affected disdain of any success which Vittoria had +yet achieved. 'Wait for Act the Third,' he said; but his irritable +anxiousness to hold intercourse with every one, patriot or critic, +German, English, or Italian, betrayed what agitation of exultation +coursed in his veins. 'Aha!' was his commencement of a greeting; 'was +Antonio-Pericles wrong when he told you that he had a prima donna for +you to amaze all Christendom, and whose notes were safe and firm as the +footing of the angels up and down Jacob's ladder, my friends? Aha!' + +'Do you see that your uncle is signalling to you?' Countess Lena said to +Wilfrid. He answered like a man in a mist, and looked neither at her +nor at the General, who, in default of his obedience to gestures, came +good-humouredly to the box, bringing Captain Weisspriess with him. + +'We 're assisting at a pretty show,' he said. + +'I am in love with her voice,' said Countess Anna. + +'Ay; if it were only a matter of voices, countess.' + +'I think that these good people require a trouncing,' said Captain +Weisspriess. + +'Lieutenant Pierson is not of your opinion,' Countess Anna remarked. +Hearing his own name, Wilfrid turned to them with a weariness well +acted, but insufficiently to a jealous observation, for his eyes were +quick under the carelessly-dropped eyelids, and ranged keenly over the +stage while they were affecting to assist his fluent tongue. + +Countess Lena levelled her opera-glass at Carlo Ammiani, and then placed +the glass in her sister's hand. Wilfrid drank deep of bitterness. 'That +is Vittoria's lover,' he thought; 'the lover of the Emilia who once +loved me!' + +General Pierson may have noticed this by-play: he said to his nephew in +the brief military tone: 'Go out; see that the whole regiment is handy +about the house; station a dozen men, with a serjeant, at each of the +backdoors, and remain below. I very much mistake, or we shall have to +make a capture of this little woman to-night.' + +'How on earth,' he resumed, while Wilfrid rose savagely and went out +with his stiffest bow, 'this opera was permitted to appear, I can't +guess! A child could see through it. The stupidity of our civil +authorities passes my understanding--it's a miracle! We have stringent +orders not to take any initiative, or I would stop the Fraulein Camilla +from uttering another note.' + +'If you did that, I should be angry with you, General,' said Countess +Anna. + +'And I also think the Government cannot do wrong,' Countess Lena joined +in. + +The General contented himself by saying: 'Well, we shall see.' + +Countess Lena talked to Captain Weisspriess in an undertone, referring +to what she called his dispute with Carlo Ammiani. The captain was +extremely playful in rejoinders. + +'You iron man!' she exclaimed. + +'Man of steel would be the better phrase,' her sister whispered. + +'It will be an assassination, if it happens.' + +'No officer can bear with an open insult, Lena.' + +'I shall not sit and see harm done to my old playmate, Anna.' + +'Beware of betraying yourself for one who detests you.' + +A grand duo between Montini and Vittoria silenced all converse. Camilla +tells Camillo of her dream. He pledges his oath to discover her mother, +if alive; if dead, to avenge her. Camilla says she believes her mother +is in the dungeons of Count Orso's castle. The duo tasked Vittoria's +execution of florid passages; it gave evidence of her sound artistic +powers. + +'I was a fool,' thought Antonio-Pericles; 'I flung my bouquet with the +herd. I was a fool! I lost my head!' + +He tapped angrily at the little ink-flask in his coat-pocket. The first +act, after scenes between false Camillo and Michiella, ends with +the marriage of Camillo and Camilla;--a quatuor composed of Montini, +Vittoria, Irma, and Lebruno. Michiella is in despair; Count Orso is +profoundly sonorous with paternity and devotion to the law. He has +restored to Camilla a portion of her mother's sequestrated estates. +A portion of the remainder will be handed over to her when he has +had experience of her husband's good behaviour. The rest he considers +legally his own by right of (Treaties), and by right of possession and +documents his sword. Yonder castle he must keep. It is the key of +all his other territories. Without it, his position will be insecure. +(Allusion to the Austrian argument that the plains of Lombardy are the +strategic defensive lines of the Alps.) + +Agostino, pursued by his terror of anticlimax, ran from the sight of +Vittoria when she was called, after the fall of the curtain. He made his +way to Rocco Ricci (who had given his bow to the public from his +perch), and found the maestro drinking Asti to counteract his natural +excitement. Rocco told Agostino, that up to the last moment, neither he +nor any soul behind the scenes knew Vittoria would be able to appear, +except that she had sent a note to him with a pledge to be in readiness +for the call. Irma had come flying in late, enraged, and in disorder, +praying to take Camilla's part; but Montini refused to act with +the seconda donna as prima donna. They had commenced the opera in +uncertainty whether it could go on beyond the situation where Camilla +presents herself. 'I was prepared to throw up my baton,' said Rocco, +'and publicly to charge the Government with the rape of our prima donna. +Irma I was ready to replace. I could have filled that gap.' He spoke of +Vittoria's triumph. Agostino's face darkened. 'Ha!' said he, 'provided +we don't fall flat, like your Asti with the cork out. I should have +preferred an enthusiasm a trifle more progressive. The notion of +travelling backwards is upon me forcibly, after that tempest of +acclamation.' + +'Or do you think that you have put your best poetry in the first Act?' +Rocco suggested with malice. + +'Not a bit of it!' Agostino repudiated the idea very angrily, and puffed +and puffed. Yet he said, 'I should not be lamenting if the opera were +stopped at once.' + +'No!' cried Rocco; 'let us have our one night. I bargain for that. +Medole has played us false, but we go on. We are victims already, my +Agostino.' + +'But I do stipulate,' said Agostino, 'that my jewel is not to melt +herself in the cup to-night. I must see her. As it is, she is inevitably +down in the list for a week's or a month's incarceration.' + +Antonio-Pericles had this, in his case, singular piece of delicacy, that +he refrained from the attempt to see Vittoria immediately after he +had flung his magnificent bouquet of treasure at her feet. In his +intoxication with the success which he had foreseen and cradled to its +apogee, he was now reckless of any consequences. He felt ready to take +patriotic Italy in his arms, provided that it would succeed as Vittoria +had done, and on the spot. Her singing of the severe phrases of the +opening chant, or hymn, had turned the man, and for a time had put a new +heart in him. The consolation was his also, that he had rewarded it the +most splendidly--as it were, in golden italics of praise; so that +her forgiveness of his disinterested endeavour to transplant her was +certain, and perhaps her future implicit obedience or allegiance bought. +Meeting General Pierson, the latter rallied him. + +'Why, my fine Pericles, your scheme to get this girl out of the way +was capitally concerted. My only fear is that on another occasion the +Government will take another view of it and you.' + +Pericles shrugged. 'The Gods, my dear General, decree. I did my best to +lay a case before them; that is all.' + +'Ah, well! I am of opinion you will not lay many other cases before the +Gods who rule in Milan.' + +'I have helped them to a good opera.' + +'Are you aware that this opera consists entirely of political +allusions?' + +General Pierson spoke offensively, as the urbane Austrian military +permitted themselves to do upon occasion when addressing the conquered +or civilians. + +'To me,' returned Pericles, 'an opera--it is music. I know no more.' + +'You are responsible for it,' said the General, harshly. 'It was taken +upon trust from you.' + +'Brutal Austrians!' Pericles murmured. 'And you do not think much of her +voice, General?' + +'Pretty fair, sir.' + +'What wonder she does not care to open her throat to these swine!' +thought the changed Greek. + +Vittoria's door was shut to Agostino. No voice within gave answer. He +tried the lock of the door, and departed. She sat in a stupor. It was +harder for her to make a second appearance than it was to make the +first, when the shameful suspicion cruelly attached to her had helped to +balance her steps with rebellious pride; and more, the great collected +wave of her ambitious years of girlhood had cast her forward to the +spot, as in a last effort for consummation. Now that she had won the +public voice (love, her heart called it) her eyes looked inward; she +meditated upon what she had to do, and coughed nervously. She frightened +herself with her coughing, and shivered at the prospect of again going +forward in the great nakedness of stagelights and thirsting eyes. And, +moreover, she was not strengthened by the character of the music and the +poetry of the second Act:--a knowledge of its somewhat inferior quality +may possibly have been at the root of Agostino's dread of an anticlimax. +The seconda donna had the chief part in it--notably an aria (Rocco had +given it to her in compassion) that suited Irma's pure shrieks and the +tragic skeleton she could be. Vittoria knew how low she was sinking when +she found her soul in the shallows of a sort of jealousy of Irma. For a +little space she lost all intimacy with herself; she looked at her face +in the glass and swallowed water, thinking that she had strained a dream +and confused her brain with it. The silence of her solitary room coming +upon the blaze of light the colour and clamour of the house, and the +strange remembrance of the recent impersonation of an ideal character, +smote her with the sense of her having fallen from a mighty eminence, +and that she lay in the dust. All those incense-breathing flowers heaped +on her table seemed poisonous, and reproached her as a delusion. She sat +crouching alone till her tirewomen called; horrible talkative things! +her own familiar maid Giacinta being the worst to bear with. + +Now, Michiella, by making love to Leonardo, Camillo's associate, +discovers that Camillo is conspiring against her father. She utters to +Leonardo very pleasant promises indeed, if he will betray his friend. +Leonardo, a wavering baritono, complains that love should ask for +any return save in the coin of the empire of love. He is seduced, and +invokes a malediction upon his head should he accomplish what he has +sworn to perform. Camilla reposes perfect confidence in this wretch, and +brings her more doubtful husband to be of her mind. + +Camillo and Camilla agree to wear the mask of a dissipated couple. +They throw their mansion open; dicing, betting, intriguing, revellings, +maskings, commence. Michiella is courted ardently by Camillo; Camilla +trifles with Leonardo and with Count Orso alternately. Jealous again +of Camilla, Michiella warns and threatens Leonardo; but she becomes +Camillo's dupe, partly from returning love, partly from desire for +vengeance on her rival. Camilla persuades Orso to discard Michiella. The +infatuated count waxes as the personification of portentous burlesque; +he is having everything his own way. The acting throughout--owing to +the real gravity of the vast basso Lebruno's burlesque, and Vittoria's +archness--was that of high comedy with a lurid background. Vittoria +showed an enchanting spirit of humour. She sang one bewitching barcarole +that set the house in rocking motion. There was such melancholy in her +heart that she cast herself into all the flippancy with abandonment. +The Act was weak in too distinctly revealing the finger of the poetic +political squib at a point here and there. The temptation to do it of +an Agostino, who had no other outlet, had been irresistible, and he sat +moaning over his artistic depravity, now that it stared him in the face. +Applause scarcely consoled him, and it was with humiliation of mind that +he acknowledged his debt to the music and the singers, and how little +they owed to him. + +Now Camillo is pleased to receive the ardent passion of his wife, and +the masking suits his taste, but it is the vice of his character that +he cannot act to any degree subordinately in concert; he insists upon +positive headship!--(allusion to an Italian weakness for sovereignties; +it passed unobserved, and chuckled bitterly over his excess of +subtlety). Camillo cannot leave the scheming to her. He pursues +Michiella to subdue her with blandishments. Reproaches cease upon her +part. There is a duo between them. They exchange the silver keys, which +express absolute intimacy, and give mutual freedom of access. Camillo +can now secrete his followers in the castle; Michiella can enter +Camilla's blue-room, and ravage her caskets for treasonable +correspondence. Artfully she bids him reflect on what she is forfeiting +for him; and so helps him to put aside the thought of that which he also +may be imperilling. + +Irma's shrill crescendos and octave-leaps, assisted by her peculiar +attitudes of strangulation, came out well in this scene. The murmurs +concerning the sour privileges to be granted by a Lazzeruola were +inaudible. But there has been a witness to the stipulation. The +ever-shifting baritono, from behind a pillar, has joined in with an +aside phrase here and there. Leonardo discovers that his fealty to +Camilla is reviving. He determines to watch over her. Camillo now tosses +a perfumed handkerchief under his nose, and inhales the coxcombical +incense of the idea that he will do all without Camilla's aid, to +surprise her; thereby teaching her to know him to be somewhat a hero. +She has played her part so thoroughly that he can choose to fancy her +a giddy person; he remarks upon the frequent instances of girls who in +their girlhood were wild dreamers becoming after marriage wild wives. +His followers assemble, that he may take advantage of the exchanged +key of silver. He is moved to seek one embrace of Camilla before the +conflict:--she is beautiful! There was never such beauty as hers! He +goes to her in the fittest preparation for the pangs of jealousy. But he +has not been foremost in practising the uses of silver keys. Michiella, +having first arranged with her father to be before Camillo's doors at a +certain hour with men-at-arms, is in Camilla's private chamber, with her +hand upon a pregnant box of ebony wood, when she is startled by a noise, +and slips into concealment. Leonardo bursts through the casement window. +Camilla then appears. Leonardo stretches the tips of his fingers out to +her; on his knees confesses his guilt and warns her. Camillo comes in. +Thrusting herself before him, Michiella points to the stricken couple +'See! it is to show you this that I am here.' Behold occasion for a +grand quatuor! + +While confessing his guilt to Camilla, Leonardo has excused it by an +emphatic delineation of Michiella's magic sway over him. (Leonardo, in +fact, is your small modern Italian Machiavelli, overmatched in cunning, +for the reason that he is always at a last moment the victim of his +poor bit of heart or honesty: he is devoid of the inspiration of great +patriotic aims.) If Michiella (Austrian intrigue) has any love, it is +for such a tool. She cannot afford to lose him. She pleads for him; and, +as Camilla is silent on his account, the cynical magnanimity of Camillo +is predisposed to spare a fangless snake. Michiella withdraws him from +the naked sword to the back of the stage. The terrible repudiation scene +ensues, in which Camillo casts off his wife. If it was a puzzle to one +Italian half of the audience, the other comprehended it perfectly, and +with rapture. It was thus that YOUNG ITALY had too often been treated +by the compromising, merely discontented, dallying aristocracy. Camilla +cries to him, 'Have faith in me! have faith in me! have faith in me!' +That is the sole answer to his accusations, his threats of eternal +loathing, and generally blustering sublimities. She cannot defend +herself; she only knows her innocence. He is inexorable, being the +guilty one of the two. Turning from him with crossed arms, Camilla +sings: + +'Mother! it is my fate that I should know Thy miseries, and in thy +footprints go. Grief treads the starry places of the earth: In thy long +track I feel who gave me birth. I am alone; a wife without a lord; My +home is with the stranger--home abhorr'd!--But that I trust to meet thy +spirit there. Mother of Sorrows! joy thou canst not share: So let me +wander in among the tombs, Among the cypresses and the withered blooms. +Thy soul is with dead suns: there let me be; A silent thing that shares +thy veil with thee.' + +The wonderful viol-like trembling of the contralto tones thrilled +through the house. It was the highest homage to Vittoria that no longer +any shouts arose nothing but a prolonged murmur, as when one tells +another a tale of deep emotion, and all exclamations, all ulterior +thoughts, all gathered tenderness of sensibility, are reserved for the +close, are seen heaping for the close, like waters above a dam. +The flattery of beholding a great assembly of human creatures bound +glittering in wizard subservience to the voice of one soul, belongs to +the artist, and is the cantatrice's glory, pre-eminent over whatever +poor glory this world gives. She felt it, but she felt it as something +apart. Within her was the struggle of Italy calling to Italy: Italy's +shame, her sadness, her tortures, her quenchless hope, and the view of +Freedom. It sent her blood about her body in rebellious volumes. Once it +completely strangled her notes. She dropped the ball of her chin in her +throat; paused without ceremony; and recovered herself. Vittoria had too +severe an artistic instinct to court reality; and as much as she could +she from that moment corrected the underlinings of Agostino's libretto. + +On the other hand, Irma fell into all his traps, and painted her +Austrian heart with a prodigal waste of colour and frank energy: + + 'Now Leonardo is my tool: + Camilla is my slave: + And she I hate goes forth to cool + Her rage beyond the wave. + Joy! joy! + Paid am I in full coin for my caressing; + I take, but give nought, ere the priestly blessing.' + +A subtle distinction. She insists upon her reverence for the priestly +(papistical) blessing, while she confides her determination to have +it dispensed with in Camilla's case. Irma's known sympathies with the +Austrian uniform seasoned the ludicrousness of many of the double-edged +verses which she sang or declaimed in recitative. The irony of +applauding her vehemently was irresistible. + +Camilla is charged with conspiracy, and proved guilty by her own +admission. + +The Act ends with the entry of Count Orso and his force; conspirators +overawed; Camilla repudiated; Count Orso imperially just; Leonardo +chagrined; Camillo pardoned; Michiella triumphant. Camillo sacrifices +his wife for safety. He holds her estates; and therefore Count Orso, +whose respect for law causes him to have a keen eye for matrimonial +alliances, is now paternally willing, and even anxious to bestow +Michiella upon him when the Pontifical divorce can be obtained; so that +the long-coveted fruitful acres may be in the family. The chorus sings +a song of praise to Hymen, the 'builder of great Houses.' Camilla goes +forth into exile. The word was not spoken, but the mention of 'bread of +strangers, strange faces, cold climes,' said sufficient. + +'It is a question whether we ought to sit still and see a firebrand +flashed in our faces,' General Pierson remarked as the curtain fell. He +was talking to Major de Pyrmont outside the Duchess of Graatli's box. +Two General officers joined them, and presently Count Serabiglione, with +his courtly semi-ironical smile, on whom they straightway turned their +backs. The insult was happily unseen, and the count caressed his shaven +chin and smiled himself onward. The point for the officers to decide +was, whether they dared offend an enthusiastic house--the fiery core +of the population of Milan--by putting a stop to the opera before worse +should come. + +Their own views were entirely military; but they were paralyzed by the +recent pseudo-liberalistic despatches from Vienna; and agreed, with +some malice in their shrugs, that the odium might as well be left on the +shoulders of the bureau which had examined the libretto. In fact, they +saw that there would be rank peril in attempting to arrest the course of +things within the walls of the house. + +'The temper this people is changeing oddly,' said General Pierson. Major +de Pyrmont listened awhile to what they had to say, and returned to the +duchess. Amalia wrote these lines to Laura:--'If she sings that song she +is to be seized on the wings of the stage. I order my carriage to be in +readiness to take her whither she should have gone last night. Do you +contrive only her escape from the house. Georges de P. will aid you. I +adore the naughty rebel!' + +Major de Pyrmont delivered the missive at Laura's box. He went down to +the duchess's chasseur, and gave him certain commands and money for a +journey. Looking about, he beheld Wilfrid, who implored him to take his +place for two minutes. De Pyrmont laughed. 'She is superb, my friend. +Come up with me. I am going behind the scenes. The unfortunate +impresario is a ruined man; let us both condole with him. It is possible +that he has children, and children like bread.' + +Wilfrid was linking his arm to De Pyrmont's, when, with a vivid +recollection of old times, he glanced at his uniform with Vittoria's +eyes. 'She would spit at me!' he muttered, and dropped behind. + +Up in her room Vittoria held council with Rocco, Agostino, and the +impresario, Salvolo, who was partly their dupe. Salvolo had laid a +freshly-written injunction from General Pierson before her, bidding +him to exclude the chief solo parts from the Third Act, and to bring +it speedily to a termination. His case was, that he had been ready +to forfeit much if a rising followed; but that simply to beard the +authorities was madness. He stated his case by no means as a pleader, +although the impression made on him by the prima donna's success caused +his urgency to be civil. + +'Strike out what you please,' said Vittoria. + +Agostino smote her with a forefinger. 'Rogue! you deserve an imperial +crown. You have been educated for monarchy. You are ready enough to +dispense with what you don't care for, and what is not your own.' + +Much of the time was lost by Agostino's dispute with Salvolo. They +haggled and wrangled laughingly over this and that printed aria, but +it was a deplorable deception of the unhappy man; and with Vittoria's +stronger resolve to sing the incendiary song, the more necessary it was +for her to have her soul clear of deceit. She said, 'Signor Salvolo, +you have been very kind to me, and I would do nothing to hurt your +interests. I suppose you must suffer for being an Italian, like the rest +of us. The song I mean to sing is not written or printed. What is in +the book cannot harm you, for the censorship has passed it; and surely +I alone am responsible for singing what is not in the book--I and the +maestro. He supports me. We have both taken precautions' (she smiled) +'to secure our property. If you are despoiled, we will share with you. +And believe, oh! in God's name, believe that you will not suffer to no +purpose!' + +Salvolo started from her in a horror of amazement. He declared that he +had been miserably deceived and entrapped. He threatened to send the +company to their homes forthwith. 'Dare to!' said Agostino; and to judge +by the temper of the house, it was only too certain, that if he did so, +La Scala would be a wrecked tenement in the eye of morning. But Agostino +backed his entreaty to her to abjure that song; Rocco gave way, and +half shyly requested her to think of prudence. She remembered Laura, and +Carlo, and her poor little frightened foreign mother. Her intense +ideal conception of her duty sank and danced within her brain as the +pilot-star dances on the bows of a tossing vessel. All were against her, +as the tempest is against the ship. Even light above (by which I would +image that which she could appeal to pleading in behalf of the wisdom +of her obstinate will) was dyed black in the sweeping obscuration; she +failed to recollect a sentence that was to be said to vindicate her +settled course. Her sole idea was her holding her country by an unseen +thread, and of the everlasting welfare of Italy being jeopardized if she +relaxed her hold. Simple obstinacy of will sustained her. + +You mariners batten down the hatchways when the heavens are dark and +seas are angry. Vittoria, with the same faith in her instinct, shut the +avenues to her senses--would see nothing, hear nothing. The impresario's +figure of despair touched her later. Giacinta drove him forth in the act +of smiting his forehead with both hands. She did the same for Agostino +and Rocco, who were not demonstrative. + +They knew that by this time the agents of the Government were in all +probability ransacking their rooms, and confiscating their goods. + +'Is your piano hired?' quoth the former. + +'No,' said the latter, 'are your slippers?' + +They went their separate ways, laughing. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE THIRD ACT + +The libretto of the Third Act was steeped in the sentiment of Young +Italy. I wish that I could pipe to your mind's hearing any notion of the +fine music of Rocco Ricci, and touch you to feel the revelations which +were in this new voice. Rocco and Vittoria gave the verses a life that +cannot belong to them now; yet, as they contain much of the vital spirit +of the revolt, they may assist you to some idea of the faith animating +its heads, and may serve to justify this history. + +Rocco's music in the opera of Camilla had been sprung from a fresh +Italian well; neither the elegiac-melodious, nor the sensuous-lyrical, +nor the joyous buffo; it was severe as an old masterpiece, with veins +of buoyant liveliness threading it, and with sufficient distinctness of +melody to enrapture those who like to suck the sugarplums of sound. +He would indeed have favoured the public with more sweet things, but +Vittoria, for whom the opera was composed, and who had been at his +elbow, was young, and stern in her devotion to an ideal of classical +music that should elevate and never stoop to seduce or to flatter +thoughtless hearers. Her taste had directed as her voice had inspired +the opera. Her voice belonged to the order of the simply great voices, +and was a royal voice among them. Pure without attenuation, passionate +without contortion, when once heard it exacted absolute confidence. +On this night her theme and her impersonation were adventitious +introductions, but there were passages when her artistic pre-eminence +and the sovereign fulness and fire of her singing struck a note of +grateful remembered delight. This is what the great voice does for us. +It rarely astonishes our ears. It illumines our souls, as you see +the lightning make the unintelligible craving darkness leap into long +mountain ridges, and twisting vales, and spires of cities, and inner +recesses of light within light, rose-like, toward a central core of +violet heat. + +At the rising of the curtain the knights of the plains, Rudolfo, +Romualdo, Arnoldo, and others, who were conspiring to overthrow Count +Orso at the time when Camillo's folly ruined all, assemble to deplore +Camilla's banishment, and show, bereft of her, their helplessness +and indecision. They utter contempt of Camillo, who is this day to be +Pontifically divorced from his wife to espouse the detested Michiella. +His taste is not admired. + +They pass off. Camillo appears. He is, as he knows, little better than +a pensioner in Count Orso's household. He holds his lands on sufferance. +His faculties are paralyzed. He is on the first smooth shoulder-slope +of the cataract. He knows that not only was his jealousy of his wife +groundless, but it was forced by a spleenful pride. What is there to +do? Nothing, save resignedly to prepare for his divorce from the +conspiratrix Camilla and espousals with Michiella. The cup is bitter, +and his song is mournful. He does the rarest thing a man will do in such +a predicament--he acknowledges that he is going to get his deserts. The +faithfulness and purity of Camilla have struck his inner consciousness. +He knows not where she may be. He has secretly sent messengers in all +directions to seek her, and recover her, and obtain her pardon: in vain. +It is as well, perhaps, that he should never see her more. Accursed, he +has cast off his sweetest friend. The craven heart could never beat in +unison with hers. + +'She is in the darkness: I am in the light. I am a blot upon the light; +she is light in the darkness.' + +Montini poured this out with so fine a sentiment that the impatience +of the house for sight of its heroine was quieted. But Irma and Lebruno +came forward barely under tolerance. + +'We might as well be thumping a tambourine,' said Lebruno, during a +caress. Irma bit her underlip with mortification. Their notes fell flat +as bullets against a wall. + +This circumstance aroused the ire of Antonio-Pericles against the +libretto and revolutionists. 'I perceive,' he said, grinning savagely, +'it has come to be a concert, not an opera; it is a musical harangue in +the marketplace. Illusion goes: it is politics here!' + +Carlo Ammiani was sitting with his mother and Luciano breathlessly +awaiting the entrance of Vittoria. The inner box-door was rudely shaken: +beneath it a slip of paper had been thrust. He read a warning to him +to quit the house instantly. Luciano and his mother both counselled his +departure. The detestable initials 'B. R.,' and the one word 'Sbirri,' +revealed who had warned, and what was the danger. His friend's advice +and the commands of his mother failed to move him. 'When I have seen her +safe; not before,' he said. + +Countess Ammiani addressed Luciano: 'This is a young man's love for a +woman.' + +'The woman is worth it,' Luciano replied. + +'No woman is worth the sacrifice of a mother and of a relative.' + +'Dearest countess,' said Luciano, 'look at the pit; it's a cauldron. +We shall get him out presently, have no fear: there will soon be hubbub +enough to let Lucifer escape unseen. If nothing is done to-night, he +and I will be off to the Lago di Garda to-morrow morning, and fish and +shoot, and talk with Catullus.' + +The countess gazed on her son with sorrowful sternness. His eyes had +taken that bright glazed look which is an indication of frozen brain and +turbulent heart--madness that sane men enamoured can be struck by. She +knew there was no appeal to it. + +A very dull continuous sound, like that of an angry swarm, or more like +a rapid mufed thrumming of wires, was heard. The audience had caught +view of a brown-coated soldier at one of the wings. The curious Croat +had merely gratified a desire to have a glance at the semicircle of +crowded heads; he withdrew his own, but not before he had awakened the +wild beast in the throng. Yet a little while and the roar of the beasts +would have burst out. It was thought that Vittoria had been seized +or interdicted from appearing. Conspirators--the knights of the +plains--meet: Rudolfos, Romualdos, Arnoldos, and others,--so that you +know Camilla is not idle. She comes on in the great scene which closes +the opera. + +It is the banqueting hall of the castle. The Pontifical divorce is +spread upon the table. Courtly friends, guards, and a choric bridal +company, form a circle. + +'I have obtained it,' says Count Orso: 'but at a cost.' + +Leonardo, wavering eternally, lets us know that it is weighted with a +proviso: IF Camilla shall not present herself within a certain term, +this being the last day of it. Camillo comes forward. Too late, he has +perceived his faults and weakness. He has cast his beloved from his arms +to clasp them on despair. The choric bridal company gives intervening +strophes. Cavaliers enter. 'Look at them well,' says Leonardo. They +are the knights of the plains. 'They have come to mock me,' Camillo +exclaims, and avoids them. + +Leonardo, Michiella, and Camillo now sing a trio that is tricuspidato, +or a three-pointed manner of declaring their divergent sentiments in +harmony. The fast-gathering cavaliers lend masculine character to +the choric refrains at every interval. Leonardo plucks Michiella +entreatingly by the arm. She spurns him. He has served her; she needs +him no more; but she will recommend him in other quarters, and bids +him to seek them. 'I will give thee a collar for thy neck, marked +“Faithful.” It is the utmost I can do for thy species.' Leonardo thinks +that he is insulted, but there is a vestige of doubt in him still. 'She +is so fair! she dissembles so magnificently ever!' She has previously +told him that she is acting a part, as Camilla did. Irma had shed all +her hair from a golden circlet about her temples, barbarian-wise. Some +Hunnish grandeur pertained to her appearance, and partly excused the +infatuated wretch who shivered at her disdain and exulted over her +beauty and artfulness. + +In the midst of the chorus there is one veiled figure and one voice +distinguishable. This voice outlives the rest at every strophe, and +contrives to add a supplemental antiphonic phrase that recalls in turn +the favourite melodies of the opera. Camillo hears it, but takes it as +a delusion of impassioned memory and a mere theme for the recurring +melodious utterance of his regrets. Michiella hears it. She chimes with +the third notes of Camillo's solo to inform us of her suspicions that +they have a serpent among them. Leonardo hears it. The trio is formed. +Count Orso, without hearing it, makes a quatuor by inviting the bridal +couple to go through the necessary formalities. The chorus changes its +measure to one of hymeneals. The unknown voice closes it ominously with +three bars in the minor key. Michiella stalks close around the rank +singers like an enraged daughter of Attila. Stopping in front of the +veiled figure, she says: 'Why is it thou wearest the black veil at my +nuptials?' + +'Because my time of mourning is not yet ended.' + +'Thou standest the shadow in my happiness.' + +'The bright sun will have its shadow.' + +'I desire that all rejoice this day.' + +'My hour of rejoicing approaches.' + +'Wilt thou unveil?' + +'Dost thou ask to look the storm in the face?' + +'Wilt thou unveil?' + +'Art thou hungry for the lightning?' + +'I bid thee unveil, woman!' + +Michiella's ringing shriek of command produces no response. + +'It is she!' cries Michiella, from a contracted bosom; smiting it with +clenched hands. + +'Swift to the signatures. O rival! what bitterness hast thou come hither +to taste.' + +Camilla sings aside: 'If yet my husband loves me and is true.' + +Count Orso exclaims: 'Let trumpets sound for the commencement of the +festivities. The lord of his country may slumber while his people dance +and drink!' + +Trumpets flourish. Witnesses are called about the table. Camillo, pen +in hand, prepares for the supreme act. Leonardo at one wing watches +the eagerness of Michiella. The chorus chants to a muted measure of +suspense, while Camillo dips pen in ink. + +'She is away from me: she scorns me: she is lost to me. Life without +honour is the life of swine. Union without love is the yoke of savage +beasts. O me miserable! Can the heavens themselves plumb the depth of my +degradation?' + +Count Orso permits a half-tone of paternal severity to point his kindly +hint that time is passing. When he was young, he says, in the broad +and benevolently frisky manner, he would have signed ere the eye of the +maiden twinkled her affirmative, or the goose had shed its quill. + +Camillo still trifles. Then he dashes the pen to earth. + +'Never! I have but one wife. Our marriage is irrevocable. The +dishonoured man is the everlasting outcast. What are earthly possessions +to me, if within myself shame faces me? Let all go. Though I have lost +Camilla, I will be worthy of her. Not a pen no pen; it is the sword that +I must write with. Strike, O count! I am here: I stand alone. By the +edge of this sword, I swear that never deed of mine shall rob Camilla of +her heritage; though I die the death, she shall not weep for a craven!' + +The multitude break away from Camilla--veiled no more, but radiant; +fresh as a star that issues through corrupting vapours, and with her +voice at a starry pitch in its clear ascendency: + + 'Tear up the insufferable scroll!-- + O thou, my lover and my soul! + It is the Sword that reunites; + The Pen that our perdition writes.' + +She is folded in her husband's arms. + +Michiella fronts them, horrid of aspect:-- + + 'Accurst divorced one! dost thou dare + To lie in shameless fondness there? + Abandoned! on thy lying brow + Thy name shall be imprinted now.' + +Camilla parts from her husband's embrace: + + 'My name is one I do not fear; + 'Tis one that thou wouldst shrink to hear. + Go, cool thy penitential fires, + Thou creature, foul with base desires!' + + CAMILLO (facing Count Orso). + + 'The choice is thine!' + + COUNT ORSO (draws). + + 'The choice is made!' + + CHORUS (narrowing its circle). + + 'Familiar is that naked blade. + Of others, of himself, the fate + How swift 'tis Provocation's mate!' + + MICHIELLA (torn with jealous rage). + + 'Yea; I could smite her on the face. + Father, first read the thing's disgrace. + I grudge them, honourable death. + Put poison in their latest breath!' + + ORSO (his left arm extended). + + 'You twain are sundered: hear with awe + The judgement of the Source of Law.' + + CAMILLA (smiling confidently). + + 'Not such, when I was at the Source, + It said to me;--but take thy course.' + + ORSO (astounded). + + 'Thither thy steps were bent?' + + MICHIELLA (spurning verbal controversy). + + 'She feigns! + A thousand swords are in my veins. + Friends! soldiers I strike them down, the pair!' + + CAMILLO (on guard, clasping his wife). + + ''Tis well! I cry, to all we share. + Yea, life or death, 'tis well! 'tis well!' + + MICHIELLA (stamps her foot). + + 'My heart 's a vessel tossed on hell!' + + LEONARDO (aside). + + 'Not in glad nuptials ends the day.' + + ORSO (to Camilla). + + 'What is thy purpose with us?--say!' + + CAMILLA (lowly). + 'Unto my Father I have crossed + For tidings of my Mother lost.' + + ORSO. + 'Thy mother dead!' + + CAMILLA. + 'She lives!' + + MICHIELLA. + 'Thou liest! + The tablets of the tomb defiest! + The Fates denounce, the Furies chase + The wretch who lies in Reason's face.' + + CAMILLA. + 'Fly, then; for we are match'd to try + Which is the idiot, thou or I' + + MICHIELLA. + Graceless Camilla!' + + ORSO + 'Senseless girl! + I cherished thee a precious pearl, + And almost owned thee child of mine.' + + CAMILLA. + 'Thou kept'st me like a gem, to shine, + Careless that I of blood am made; + No longer be the end delay'd. + 'Tis time to prove I have a heart-- + Forth from these walls of mine depart! + The ghosts within them are disturb'd + Go forth, and let thy wrath be curb'd, + For I am strong: Camillo's truth + Has arm'd the visions of our youth. + Our union by the Head Supreme + Is blest: our severance was the dream. + We who have drunk of blood and tears, + Knew nothing of a mortal's fears. + Life is as Death until the strife + In our just cause makes Death as Life.' + + ORSO + ''Tis madness?' + + LEONARDO. + 'Is it madness?' + + CAMILLA. + 'Men! + 'Tis Reason, but beyond your ken. + There lives a light that none can view + Whose thoughts are brutish:--seen by few, + The few have therefore light divine + Their visions are God's legions!--sign, + I give you; for we stand alone, + And you are frozen to the bone. + Your palsied hands refuse their swords. + A sharper edge is in my words, + A deadlier wound is in my cry. + Yea, tho' you slay us, do we die? + In forcing us to bear the worst, + You made of us Immortals first. + Away! and trouble not my sight.' + + Chorus of Cavaliers: RUDOLFO, ROMUALDO, ARNOLDO, and others. + + 'She moves us with an angel's might. + What if his host outnumber ours! + 'Tis heaven that gives victorious powers.' + + [They draw their steel. ORSO, simulating gratitude for their + devotion to him, addresses them as to pacify their friendly ardour.] + + MICHIELLA to LEONARDO (supplicating). + 'Ever my friend I shall I appeal + In vain to see thy flashing steel?' + + LEONARDO (finally resolved). + 'Traitress! pray, rather, it may rest, + Or its first home will be thy breast.' + + Chorus of Bridal Company. + 'The flowers from bright Aurora's head + We pluck'd to strew a happy bed, + Shall they be dipp'd in blood ere night? + Woe to the nuptials! woe the sight!' + +Rudolfo, Romualdo, Arnoldo, and the others, advance toward Camillo. +Michiella calls to them encouragingly that it were well for the deed to +be done by their hands. They bid Camillo to direct their lifted swords +upon his enemies. Leonardo joins them. Count Orso, after a burst of +upbraidings, accepts Camillo's offer of peace, and gives his bond to +quit the castle. Michiella, gazing savagely at Camilla, entreats her for +an utterance of her triumphant scorn. She assures Camilla that she knows +her feelings accurately. + +'Now you think that I am overwhelmed; that I shall have a restless +night, and lie, after all my crying's over, with my hair spread out +on my pillow, on either side my face, like green moss of a withered +waterfall: you think you will bestow a little serpent of a gift from +my stolen treasures to comfort me. You will comfort me with a lock of +Camillo's hair, that I may have it on my breast to-night, and dream, and +wail, and writhe, and curse the air I breathe, and clasp the abominable +emptiness like a thousand Camillos. Speak!' + +The dagger is seen gleaming up Michiella's wrist; she steps on in a bony +triangle, faced for mischief: a savage Hunnish woman, with the hair of a +Goddess--the figure of a cat taking to its forepaws. Close upon Camilla +she towers in her whole height, and crying thrice, swift as the assassin +trebles his blow, 'Speak,' to Camilla, who is fronting her mildly, she +raises her arm, and the stilet flashes into Camilla's bosom. + + 'Die then, and outrage me no more.' + +Camilla staggers to her husband. Camillo receives her falling. +Michiella, seized by Leonardo, presents a stiffened shape of vengeance +with fierce white eyes and dagger aloft. There are many shouts, and +there is silence. + + CAMILLA, supported by CAMILLO. + 'If this is death, it is not hard to bear. + Your handkerchief drinks up my blood so fast + It seems to love it. Threads of my own hair + Are woven in it. 'Tis the one I cast + That midnight from my window, when you stood + Alone, and heaven seemed to love you so! + I did not think to wet it with my blood + When next I tossed it to my love below.' + + CAMILLO (cherishing her). + 'Camilla, pity! say you will not die. + Your voice is like a soul lost in the sky.' + + CAMILLA. + + 'I know not if my soul has flown; I know + My body is a weight I cannot raise: + My voice between them issues, and + I go Upon a journey of uncounted days. + Forgetfulness is like a closing sea; + But you are very bright above me still. + My life I give as it was given to me + I enter on a darkness wide and chill.' + + CAMILLO. + 'O noble heart! a million fires consume + The hateful hand that sends you to your doom.' + + CAMILLA. + 'There is an end to joy: there is no end + To striving; therefore ever let us strive + In purity that shall the toil befriend, + And keep our poor mortality alive. + I hang upon the boundaries like light + Along the hills when downward goes the day + I feel the silent creeping up of night. + For you, my husband, lies a flaming way.' + + CAMILLO. + 'I lose your eyes: I lose your voice: 'tis faint. + Ah, Christ! see the fallen eyelids of a saint.' + + CAMILLA. + 'Our life is but a little holding, lent + To do a mighty labour: we are one + With heaven and the stars when it is spent + To serve God's aim: else die we with the sun.' + +She sinks. Camillo droops his head above her. + +The house was hushed as at a veritable death-scene. It was more like a +cathedral service than an operatic pageant. Agostino had done his best +to put the heart of the creed of his Chief into these last verses. +Rocco's music floated them in solemn measures, and Vittoria had been +careful to articulate throughout the sacred monotony so that their full +meaning should be taken. + +In the printed book of the libretto a chorus of cavaliers, followed by +one harmless verse of Camilla's adieux to them, and to her husband and +life, concluded the opera. + +'Let her stop at that--it's enough!--and she shall be untouched,' said +General Pierson to Antonio-Pericles. + +'I have information, as you know, that an extremely impudent song is +coming.' + +The General saw Wilfrid hanging about the lobby, in flagrant +disobedience to orders. Rebuking his nephew with a frown, he commanded +the lieutenant to make his way round to the stage and see that the +curtain was dropped according to the printed book. + +'Off, mon Dieu! off!' Pericles speeded him; adding in English, 'Shall +she taste prison-damp, zat voice is killed.' + +The chorus of cavaliers was a lamentation: the keynote being despair: +ordinary libretto verses. + +Camilla's eyes unclose. She struggles to be lifted, and, raised on +Camillo's arm, she sings as if with the last pulsation of her voice, +softly resonant in its rich contralto. She pardons Michiella. She tells +Count Orso that when he has extinguished his appetite for dominion, +he will enjoy an unknown pleasure in the friendship of his neighbours. +Repeating that her mother lives, and will some day kneel by her +daughter's grave--not mournfully, but in beatitude--she utters her adieu +to all. + +At the moment of her doing so, Montini whispered in Vittoria's ear. +She looked up and beheld the downward curl of the curtain. There was +confusion at the wings: Croats were visible to the audience. Carlo +Ammiani and Luciano Romara jumped on the stage; a dozen of the noble +youths of Milan streamed across the boards to either wing, and caught +the curtain descending. The whole house had risen insurgent with cries +of 'Vittoria.' The curtain-ropes were in the hands of the Croats, but +Carlo, Luciano, and their fellows held the curtain aloft at arm's length +at each side of her. She was seen, and she sang, and the house listened. + +The Italians present, one and all, rose up reverently and murmured the +refrain. Many of the aristocracy would, doubtless, have preferred that +this public declaration of the plain enigma should not have rung forth +to carry them on the popular current; and some might have sympathized +with the insane grin which distorted the features of Antonio-Pericles, +when he beheld illusion wantonly destroyed, and the opera reduced to be +a mere vehicle for a fulmination of politics. But the general enthusiasm +was too tremendous to permit of individual protestations. To sit, when +the nation was standing, was to be a German. Nor, indeed, was there an +Italian in the house who would willingly have consented to see Vittoria +silenced, now that she had chosen to defy the Tedeschi from the boards +of La Scala. The fascination of her voice extended even over the German +division of the audience. They, with the Italians, said: 'Hear her! hear +her!' The curtain was agitated at the wings, but in the centre it was +kept above Vittoria's head by the uplifted arms of the twelve young +men:-- + + 'I cannot count the years, + That you will drink, like me, + The cup of blood and tears, + Ere she to you appears:-- + Italia, Italia shall be free!' + +So the great name was out, and its enemies had heard it. + + 'You dedicate your lives + To her, and you will be + The food on which she thrives, + Till her great day arrives + Italia, Italia shall be free! + + 'She asks you but for faith! + Your faith in her takes she + As draughts of heaven's breath, + Amid defeat and death:-- + Italia, Italia shall be free!' + +The prima donna was not acting exhaustion when sinking lower in +Montini's arms. Her bosom rose and sank quickly, and she gave the +terminating verse:-- + + 'I enter the black boat + Upon the wide grey sea, + Where all her set suns float; + Thence hear my voice remote + Italia, Italia shall be free!' + +The curtain dropped. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +WILFRID COMES FORWARD + +An order for the immediate arrest of Vittoria was brought round to the +stage at the fall of the curtain by Captain Weisspriess, and delivered +by him on the stage to the officer commanding, a pothered lieutenant of +Croats, whose first proceeding was dictated by the military instinct to +get his men in line, and who was utterly devoid of any subsequent idea. +The thunder of the house on the other side of the curtain was enough to +disconcert a youngster such as he was; nor have the subalterns of +Croat regiments a very signal reputation for efficiency in the Austrian +Service. Vittoria stood among her supporters apart; pale, and 'only very +thirsty,' as she told the enthusiastic youths who pressed near her, and +implored her to have no fear. Carlo was on her right hand; Luciano +on her left. They kept her from going off to her room. Montini was +despatched to fetch her maid Giacinta with cloak and hood for her +mistress. The young lieutenant of Croats drew his sword, but hesitated. +Weisspriess, Wilfrid, and Major de Pyrmont were at one wing, between the +Italian gentlemen and the soldiery. The operatic company had fallen into +the background, or stood crowding the side places of exit. Vittoria's +name was being shouted with that angry, sea-like, horrid monotony +of iteration which is more suggestive of menacing impatience and the +positive will of the people, than varied, sharp, imperative calls. The +people had got the lion in their throats. One shriek from her would +bring them, like a torrent, on the boards, as the officers well knew; +and every second's delay in executing the orders of the General added to +the difficulty of their position. The lieutenant of Croats strode up +to Weisspriess and Wilfrid, who were discussing a plan of action +vehemently; while, amid hubbub and argument, De Pyrmont studied +Vittoria's features through his opera-glass, with an admirable simple +languor. + +Wilfrid turned back to him, and De Pyrmont, without altering the level +of his glass, said, 'She's as cool as a lemon-ice. That girl will be a +mother of heroes. To have volcanic fire and the mastery of her nerves at +the same time, is something prodigious. She is magnificent. Take a peep +at her. I suspect that the rascal at her right is seizing his occasion +to plant a trifle or so in her memory--the animal! It's just the moment, +and he knows it.' + +De Pyrmont looked at Wilfrid's face. + +'Have I hit you anywhere accidentally?' he asked, for the face had grown +dead-white. + +'Be my friend, for heaven's sake!' was the choking answer. 'Save her! +Get her away! She is an old acquaintance of mine--of mine, in England. +Do; or I shall have to break my sword.' + +'You know her? and you don't go over to her?' said De Pyrmont. + +'I--yes, she knows me.' + +'Then, why not present yourself?' + +'Get her away. Talk Weisspriess down. He is for seizing her at all +hazards. It 's madness to provoke a conflict. Just listen to the house! +I may be broken, but save her I will. De Pyrmont, on my honour, I will +stand by you for ever if you will help me to get her away.' + +'To suggest my need in the hour of your own is not a bad notion,' said +the cool Frenchman. 'What plan have you?' + +Wilfrid struck his forehead miserably. + +'Stop Lieutenant Zettlisch. Don't let him go up to her. Don't--' + +De Pyrmont beheld in astonishment that a speechlessness such as affects +condemned wretches in the supreme last minutes of existence had come +upon the Englishman. + +'I'm afraid yours is a bad case,' he said; 'and the worst of it is, it's +just the case women have no compassion for. Here comes a parlementaire +from the opposite camp. Let's hear him.' + +It was Luciano Romara. He stood before them to request that the curtain +should be raised. The officers debated together, and deemed it prudent +to yield consent. + +Luciano stipulated further that the soldiers were to be withdrawn. + +'On one wing, or on both wings?' said Captain Weisspriess, twinkling +eyes oblique. + +'Out of the house,' said Luciano. + +The officers laughed. + +'You must confess,' said De Pyrmont, affably, 'that though the drum does +issue command to the horse, it scarcely thinks of doing so after a rent +in the skin has shown its emptiness. Can you suppose that we are +likely to run when we see you empty-handed? These things are matters of +calculation.' + +'It is for you to calculate correctly,' said Luciano. + +As he spoke, a first surge of the exasperated house broke upon the stage +and smote the curtain, which burst into white zigzags, as it were a +breast stricken with panic. + +Giacinta came running in to her mistress, and cloaked and hooded her +hurriedly. + +Enamoured; impassioned, Ammiani murmured in Vittoria's ear: 'My own +soul!' + +She replied: 'My lover!' + +So their first love-speech was interchanged with Italian simplicity, and +made a divine circle about them in the storm. + +Luciano returned to his party to inform them that they held the key of +the emergency. + +'Stick fast,' he said. 'None of you move. Whoever takes the first step +takes the false step; I see that.' + +'We have no arms, Luciano.' + +'We have the people behind us.' + +There was a fiercer tempest in the body of the house, and, on a +sudden, silence. Men who had invaded the stage joined the Italian guard +surrounding Vittoria, telling that the lights had been extinguished; +and then came the muffled uproar of universal confusion. Some were for +handing her down into the orchestra, and getting her out through the +general vomitorium, but Carlo and Luciano held her firmly by them. The +theatre was a rageing darkness; and there was barely a light on the +stage. 'Santa Maria!' cried Giacinta, 'how dreadful that steel does +look in the dark! I wish our sweet boys would cry louder.' Her mistress, +almost laughing, bade her keep close, and be still. 'Oh! this must be +like being at sea,' the poor creature whined, stopping her ears and +shutting her eyes. Vittoria was in a thick gathering of her defenders; +she could just hear that a parley was going on between Luciano and the +Austrians. Luciano made his way back to her. 'Quick!' he said; 'nothing +cows a mob like darkness. One of these officers tells me he knows you, +and gives his word of honour--he's an Englishman--to conduct you out: +come.' + +Vittoria placed her hands in Carlo's one instant. Luciano cleared a +space for them. She heard a low English voice. + +'You do not recognize me? There is no time to lose. You had another name +once, and I have had the honour to call you by it.' + +'Are you an Austrian?' she exclaimed, and Carlo felt that she was +shrinking back. + +'I am the Wilfrid Pole whom you knew. You are entrusted to my charge; I +have sworn to conduct you to the doors in safety, whatever it may cost +me.' + +Vittoria looked at him mournfully. Her eyes filled with tears. 'The +night is spoiled for me!' she murmured. + +'Emilia!' + +'That is not my name.' + +'I know you by no other. Have mercy on me. I would do anything in the +world to serve you.' + +Major de Pyrmont came up to him and touched his arm. He said briefly: +'We shall have a collision, to a certainty, unless the people hear from +one of her set that she is out of the house.' + +Wilfrid requested her to confide her hand to him. + +'My hand is engaged,' she said. + +Bowing ceremoniously, Wilfrid passed on, and Vittoria, with Carlo +and Luciano and her maid Giacinta, followed between files of bayonets +through the dusky passages, and downstairs into the night air. + +Vittoria spoke in Carlo's ear: 'I have been unkind to him. I had a great +affection for him in England.' + +'Thank him; thank him,' said Carlo. + +She quitted her lover's side and went up to Wilfrid with a shyly +extended hand. A carriage was drawn up by the kerbstone; the doors of +it were open. She had barely made a word intelligible; when Major de +Pyrmont pointed to some officers approaching. 'Get her out of the +way while there's time,' he said in French to Luciano. 'This is her +carriage. Swiftly, gentlemen, or she's lost.' + +Giacinta read his meaning by signs, and caught her mistress by +the sleeve, using force. She and Major de Pyrmont placed Vittoria, +bewildered, in the carriage; De Pyrmont shut the door, and signalled to +the coachman. Vittoria thrust her head out for a last look at her lover, +and beheld him with the arms of dark-clothed men upon him. La Scala +was pouring forth its occupants in struggling roaring shoals from every +door. Her outcry returned to her deadened in the rapid rolling of the +carriage across the lighted Piazza. Giacinta had to hold her down with +all her might. Great clamour was for one moment heard by them, and then +a rushing voicelessness. Giacinta screamed to the coachman till she was +exhausted. Vittoria sank shuddering on the lap of her maid, hiding her +face that she might plunge out of recollection. + +The lightnings shot across her brain, but wrote no legible thing; the +scenes of the opera lost their outlines as in a white heat of fire. +She tried to weep, and vainly asked her heart for tears, that this dry +dreadful blind misery of mere sensation might be washed out of her, and +leave her mind clear to grapple with evil; and then, as the lurid breaks +come in a storm-driven night sky, she had the picture of her lover in +the hands of enemies, and of Wilfrid in the white uniform; the torment +of her living passion, the mockery of her passion by-gone. Recollection, +when it came back, overwhelmed her; she swayed from recollection to +oblivion, and was like a caged wild thing. Giacinta had to be as a +mother with her. The poor trembling girl, who had begun to perceive that +the carriage was bearing them to some unknown destination, tore open the +bands of her corset and drew her mistress's head against the full +warmth of her bosom, rocked her, and moaned over her, mixing comfort and +lamentation in one offering, and so contrived to draw the tears out from +her, a storm of tears; not fitfully hysterical, but tears that poured a +black veil over the eyeballs, and fell steadily streaming. Once subdued +by the weakness, Vittoria's nature melted; she shook piteously with +weeping; she remembered Laura's words, and thought of what she had done, +in terror and remorse, and tried to ask if the people would be fighting +now, but could not. Laura seemed to stand before her like a Fury +stretching her finger at the dear brave men whom she had hurled upon +the bayonets and the guns. It was an unendurable anguish. Giacinta +was compelled to let her cry, and had to reflect upon their present +situation unaided. They had passed the city gates. Voices on the +coachman's box had given German pass-words. She would have screamed then +had not the carriage seemed to her a sanctuary from such creatures as +foreign soldiers, whitecoats; so she cowered on. They were in the starry +open country, on the high-road between the vine-hung mulberry trees. She +held the precious head of her mistress, praying the Saints that strength +would soon come to her to talk of their plight, or chatter a little +comfortingly at least; and but for the singular sweetness which it +shot thrilling to her woman's heart, she would have been fretted when +Vittoria, after one long-drawn wavering sob, turned her lips to the +bared warm breast, and put a little kiss upon it, and slept. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +FIRST HOURS OF THE FLIGHT + +Vittoria slept on like an outworn child, while Giacinta nodded over her, +and started, and wondered what embowelled mountain they might be passing +through, so cold was the air and thick the darkness; and wondered +more at the old face of dawn, which appeared to know nothing of her +agitation. But morning was better than night, and she ceased counting +over her sins forward and backward; adding comments on them, excusing +some and admitting the turpitude of others, with 'Oh! I was naughty, +padre mio! I was naughty--she huddled them all into one of memory's +spare sacks, and tied the neck of it, that they should keep safe for her +father-confessor. At such times, after a tumult of the blood, women have +tender delight in one another's beauty. Giacinta doted on the marble +cheek, upturned on her lap, with the black unbound locks slipping across +it; the braid of the coronal of hair loosening; the chance flitting +movement of the pearly little dimple that lay at the edge of the bow of +the joined lips, like the cradling hollow of a dream. At whiles it would +twitch; yet the dear eyelids continued sealed. + +Looking at shut eyelids when you love the eyes beneath, is more or less +a teazing mystery that draws down your mouth to kiss them. Their lashes +seem to answer you in some way with infantine provocation; and fine +eyelashes upon a face bent sideways, suggest a kind of internal smiling. +Giacinta looked till she could bear it no longer; she kissed the cheek, +and crooned over it, gladdened by a sense of jealous possession when she +thought of the adored thing her mistress had been overnight. One of her +hugs awoke Vittoria, who said, 'Shut my window, mother,' and slept +again fast. Giacinta saw that they were nearer to the mountains. +Mountain-shadows were thrown out, and long lank shadows of cypresses +that climbed up reddish-yellow undulations, told of the sun coming. +The sun threw a blaze of light into the carriage. He shone like a good +friend, and helped Giacinta think, as she had already been disposed to +imagine, that the machinery by which they had been caught out of Milan +was amicable magic after all, and not to be screamed at. The sound +medicine of sleep and sunlight was restoring livelier colour to her +mistress. Giacinta hushed her now, but Vittoria's eyes opened, and +settled on her, full of repose. + +'What are you thinking about?' she asked. + +'Signorina, my own, I was thinking whether those people I see on the +hill-sides are as fond of coffee as I am.' + +Vittoria sat up and tumbled questions out headlong, pressing her eyes +and gathering her senses; she shook with a few convulsions, but shed no +tears. It was rather the discomfort of their position than any vestige +of alarm which prompted Giacinta to project her head and interrogate +the coachman and chasseur. She drew back, saying, 'Holy Virgin! they are +Germans. We are to stop in half-an-hour.' With that she put her hands to +use in arranging and smoothing Vittoria's hair and dress--the dress of +Camilla--of which triumphant heroine Vittoria felt herself an odd little +ghost now. She changed her seat that she might look back on Milan. A +letter was spied fastened with a pin to one of the cushions. She opened +it, and read in pencil writing: + +'Go quietly. You have done all that you could do for good or for ill. +The carriage will take you to a safe place, where you will soon see your +friends and hear the news. Wait till you reach Meran. You will see +a friend from England. Avoid the lion's jaw a second time. Here you +compromise everybody. Submit, or your friends will take you for a mad +girl. Be satisfied. It is an Austrian who rescues you. Think yourself +no longer appointed to put match to powder. Drown yourself if a second +frenzy comes. I feel I could still love your body if the obstinate soul +were out of it. You know who it is that writes. I might sign “Michiella” + to this: I have a sympathy with her anger at the provoking Camilla. +Addio! From La Scala.' + +The lines read as if Laura were uttering them. Wrapping her cloak across +the silken opera garb, Vittoria leaned back passively until the carriage +stopped at a village inn, where Giacinta made speedy arrangements to +satisfy as far as possible her mistress's queer predilection for bathing +her whole person daily in cold water. The household service of the inn +recovered from the effort to assist her sufficiently to produce hot +coffee and sweet bread, and new green-streaked stracchino, the cheese of +the district, which was the morning meal of the fugitives. Giacinta, who +had never been so thirsty in her life, became intemperately refreshed, +and was seized by the fatal desire to do something: to do what she could +not tell; but chancing to see that her mistress had silken slippers on +her feet, she protested loudly that stouter foot-gear should be obtained +for her, and ran out to circulate inquiries concerning a shoemaker who +might have a pair of country overshoes for sale. She returned to say +that the coachman and his comrade, the German chasseur, were drinking +and watering their horses, and were not going to start until after a +rest of two hours, and that she proposed to walk to a small Bergamasc +town within a couple of miles of the village, where the shoes could be +obtained, and perhaps a stuff to replace the silken dress. Receiving +consent, Giacinta whispered, 'A man outside wishes to speak to you, +signorina. Don't be frightened. He pounced on me at the end of the +village, and had as little breath to speak as a boy in love. He was +behind us all last night on the carriage. He mentioned you by name. He +is quite commonly dressed, but he's a gallant gentleman, and exactly +like our Signor Carlo. My dearest lady, he'll be company for you while I +am absent. May I beckon him to come into the room?' + +Vittoria supposed at once that this was a smoothing of the way for +the entrance of her lover and her joy. She stood up, letting all her +strength go that he might the more justly take her and cherish her. But +it was not Carlo who entered. So dead fell her broken hope that her face +was repellent with the effort she made to support herself. He said, 'I +address the Signorina Vittoria. I am a relative of Countess Ammiani. My +name is Angelo Guidascarpi. Last night I was evading the sbirri in this +disguise by the private door of La Scala, from which I expected Carlo to +come forth. I saw him seized in mistake for me. I jumped up on the +empty box-seat behind your carriage. Before we entered the village I let +myself down. If I am seen and recognized, I am lost, and great evil will +befall Countess Ammiani and her son; but if they are unable to confront +Carlo and me, my escape ensures his safety! + +'What can I do?' said Vittoria. + +He replied, 'Shall I answer you by telling you what I have done?' + +'You need not, signore! + +'Enough that I want to keep a sword fresh for my country. I am at your +mercy, signorina; and I am without anxiety. I heard the chasseur saying +at the door of La Scala that he had the night-pass for the city gates +and orders for the Tyrol. Once in Tyrol I leap into Switzerland. I +should have remained in Milan, but nothing will be done there yet, and +quiet cities are not homes for me.' + +Vittoria began to admit the existence of his likeness to her lover, +though it seemed to her a guilty weakness that she should see it. + +'Will nothing be done in Milan?' was her first eager question. + +'Nothing, signorina, or I should be there, and safe!' + +'What, signore, do you require me to help you in?' + +'Say that I am your servant.' + +'And take you with me?' + +'Such is my petition.' + +'Is the case very urgent?' + +'Hardly more, as regards myself, than a sword lost to Italy if I am +discovered. But, signorina, from what Countess Ammiani has told me, +I believe that you will some day be my relative likewise. Therefore I +appeal not only to a charitable lady, but to one of my own family.' + +Vittoria reddened. 'All that I can do I will do.' + +Angelo had to assure her that Carlo's release was certain the moment his +identity was established. She breathed gladly, saying, 'I wonder at it +all very much. I do not know where they are carrying me, but I think I +am in friendly hands. I owe you a duty. You will permit me to call you +Beppo till our journey ends.' + +They were attracted to the windows by a noise of a horseman drawing rein +under it, whose imperious shout for the innkeeper betrayed the soldier's +habit of exacting prompt obedience from civilians, though there was no +military character in his attire. The innkeeper and his wife came out +to the summons, and then both made way for the chasseur in attendance on +Vittoria. With this man the cavalier conversed. + +'Have you had food?' said Vittoria. 'I have some money that will serve +for both of us three days. Go, and eat and drink. Pay for us both.' + +She gave him her purse. He received it with a grave servitorial bow, and +retired. + +Soon after the chasseur brought up a message. Herr Johannes requested +that he might have the honour of presenting his homage to her: it was +imperative that he should see her. She nodded. Her first glance at Herr +Johannes assured her of his being one of the officers whom she had seen +on the stage last night, and she prepared to act her part. Herr Johannes +desired her to recall to mind his introduction to her by the Signor +Antonio-Pericles at the house of the maestro Rocco Ricci. 'It is true; +pardon me,' said Vittoria. + +He informed her that she had surpassed herself at the opera; so much +so that he and many other Germans had been completely conquered by her. +Hearing, he said, that she was to be pursued, he took horse and galloped +all night on the road toward Schloss Sonnenberg, whither, as it had been +whispered to him, she was flying, in order to counsel her to lie 'perdu' +for a short space, and subsequently to conduct her to the schloss of +the amiable duchess. Vittoria thanked him, but stated humbly that she +preferred to travel alone. He declared that it was impossible: that she +was precious to the world of Art, and must on no account be allowed +to run into peril. Vittoria tried to assert her will; she found it +unstrung. She thought besides that this disguised officer, with the +ill-looking eyes running into one, might easily, since he had heard her, +be a devotee of her voice; and it flattered her yet more to imagine him +as a capture from the enemy--a vanquished subservient Austrian. She had +seen him come on horseback; he had evidently followed her; and he knew +what she now understood must be her destination. + +Moreover, Laura had underlined 'it is an Austrian who rescues you.' This +man perchance was the Austrian. His precise manner of speech demanded an +extreme repugnance, if it was to be resisted; Vittoria's reliance upon +her own natural fortitude was much too secure for her to encourage the +physical revulsions which certain hard faces of men create in the hearts +of young women. + +'Was all quiet in Milan?' she asked. + +'Quiet as a pillow,' he said. + +'And will continue to be?' + +'Not a doubt of it.' + +'Why is there not a doubt of it, signore?' + +'You beat us Germans on one field. On the other you have no chance. But +you must lose no time. The Croats are on your track. I have ordered out +the carriage.' + +The mention of the Croats struck her fugitive senses with a panic. + +'I must wait for my maid,' she said, attempting to deliberate. + +'Ha! you have a maid: of course you have! Where is your maid?' + +'She ought to have returned by this time. If not, she is on the road.' + +'On the road? Good; we will pick up the maid on the road. We have not a +minute to spare. Lady, I am your obsequious servant. Hasten out, I beg +of you. I was taught at my school that minutes are not to be wasted. +Those Croats have been drinking and what not on the way, or they would +have been here before this. You can't rely on Italian innkeepers to +conceal you.' + +'Signore, are you a man of honour?' + +'Illustrious lady, I am.' + +She listened simply to the response without giving heed to the +prodigality of gesture. The necessity for flight now that Milan was +announced as lying quiet, had become her sole thought. Angelo was +standing by the carriage. + +'What man is this?' said Herr Johannes, frowning. + +'He is my servant,' said Vittoria. + +'My dear good lady, you told me your servant was a maid. This will never +do. We can't have him.' + +'Excuse me, signore, I never travel without him.' + +'Travel! This is not a case of travelling, but running; and when you +run, if you are in earnest about it, you must fling away your baggage +and arms.' + +Herr Johannes tossed out his moustache to right and left, and stamped +his foot. He insisted that the man should be left behind. + +'Off, sir! back to Milan, or elsewhere,' he cried. + +'Beppo, mount on the box,' said Vittoria. + +Her command was instantly obeyed. Herr Johannes looked her in the face. +'You are very decided, my dear lady.' He seemed to have lost his +own decision, but handing Vittoria in, he drew a long cigar from his +breastpocket, lit it, and mounted beside the coachman. The chasseur had +disappeared. + +Vittoria entreated that a general look-out should be kept for Giacinta. +The road was straight up an ascent, and she had no fear that her maid +would not be seen. Presently there was a view of the violet domes of a +city. 'Is it Bergamo?--is it Brescia?' she longed to ask, thinking of +her Bergamasc and Brescian friends, and of those two places famous for +the bravery of their sons: one being especially dear to her, as the +birthplace of a genius of melody, whose blood was in her veins. 'Did +he look on these mulberry trees?--did he look on these green-grassed +valleys?--did he hear these falling waters?' she asked herself, and +closed her spirit with reverential thoughts of him and with his music. +She saw sadly that they were turning from the city. A little ball of +paper was shot into her lap. She opened it and read: 'An officer of the +cavalry.--Beppo.' She put her hand out of the window to signify that +she was awake to the situation. Her anxiety, however, began to fret. No +sight of Giacinta was to be had in any direction. Her mistress commenced +chiding the absent garrulous creature, and did so until she pitied her, +when she accused herself of cowardice, for she was incapable of calling +out to the coachman to stop. The rapid motion subdued such energy as +remained to her, and she willingly allowed her hurried feelings to rest +on the faces of rocks impending over long ravines, and of perched +old castles and white villas and sub-Alpine herds. She burst from the +fascination as from a dream, but only to fall into it again, reproaching +her weakness, and saying, 'What a thing am I!' When she did make her +voice heard by Herr Johannes and the coachman, she was nervous and +ashamed, and met the equivocating pacification of the reply with an +assent half-way, though she was far from comprehending the consolation +she supposed that it was meant to convey. She put out her hand to +communicate with Beppo. Another ball of pencilled writing answered to +it. She read: 'Keep watch on this Austrian. Your maid is two hours +in the rear. Refuse to be separated from me. My life is at your +service.--Beppo.' + +Vittoria made her final effort to get a resolve of some sort; ending it +with a compassionate exclamation over poor Giacinta. The girl could soon +find her way back to Milan. On the other hand, the farther from Milan, +the less the danger to Carlo's relative, in whom she now perceived a +stronger likeness to her lover. She sank back in the carriage and closed +her eyes. Though she smiled at the vanity of forcing sleep in this way, +sleep came. Her healthy frame seized its natural medicine to rebuild her +after the fever of recent days. + +She slept till the rocks were purple, and rose-purple mists were in +the valleys. The stopping of the carriage aroused her. They were at the +threshold of a large wayside hostelry, fronting a slope of forest and a +plunging brook. Whitecoats in all attitudes leaned about the door; she +beheld the inner court full of them. Herr Johannes was ready to hand her +to the ground. He said: 'You have nothing to fear. These fellows are on +the march to Cremona. Perhaps it will be better if you are served up in +your chamber. You will be called early in the morning.' + +She thanked him, and felt grateful. 'Beppo, look to yourself,' she said, +and ran to her retirement. + +'I fancy that 's about all that you are fit for,' Herr Johannes +remarked, with his eyes on the impersonator of Beppo, who bore the +scrutiny carelessly, and after seeing that Vittoria had left nothing +on the carriage-seats, directed his steps to the kitchen, as became his +functions. Herr Johannes beckoned to a Tyrolese maid-servant, of whom +Beppo had asked his way. She gave her name as Katchen. + +'Katchen, Katchen, my sweet chuck,' said Herr Johannes, 'here are ten +florins for you, in silver, if you will get me the handkerchief of that +man: you have just stretched your finger out for him.' + +According to the common Austrian reckoning of them, Herr Johannes had +adopted the right method for ensuring the devotion of the maidens of +Tyrol. She responded with an amazed gulp of her mouth and a grimace of +acquiescence. Ten florins in silver shortened the migratory term of the +mountain girl by full three months. Herr Johannes asked her the hour +when the officers in command had supper, and deferred his own meal till +that time. Katchen set about earning her money. With any common Beppo it +would have been easy enough--simple barter for a harmless kiss. But this +Beppo appeared inaccessible; he was so courtly and so reserved; nor is +a maiden of Tyrol a particularly skilled seductress. The supper of the +officers was smoking on the table when Herr Johannes presented himself +among them, and very soon the inn was shaken with an uproar of greeting. +Katchen found Beppo listening at the door of the salle. She clapped her +hands upon him to drag him away. + +'What right have you to be leaning your head there?' she said, and +threatened to make his proceedings known. Beppo had no jewel to give, +little money to spare. He had just heard Herr Johannes welcomed among +the officers by a name that half paralyzed him. 'You shall have anything +you ask of me if you will find me out in a couple of hours,' he +said. Katchen nodded truce for that period, and saw her home in the +Oberinnthal still nearer--twelve mountain goats and a cow her undisputed +property. She found him out, though he had strayed through the court +of the inn, and down a hanging garden to the borders of a torrent +that drenched the air and sounded awfully in the dark ravine below. He +embraced her very mildly. 'One scream and you go,' he said; she felt the +saving hold of her feet plucked from her, with all the sinking horror, +and bit her under lip, as if keeping in the scream with bare stitches. +When he released her she was perfectly mastered. 'You do play tricks,' +she said, and quaked. + +'I play no tricks. Tell me at what hour these soldiers march.' + +'At two in the morning.' + +'Don't be afraid, silly child: you're safe if you obey me. At what time +has our carriage been ordered?' + +'At four.' + +'Now swear to do this:--rouse my mistress at a quarter past two: bring +her down to me.' + +'Yes, yes,' said Kitchen, eagerly: 'give me your handkerchief, and she +will follow me. I do swear; that I do; by big St. Christopher! who's +painted on the walls of our house at home.' + +Beppo handed her sweet silver, which played a lively tune for her +temporarily--vanished cow and goats. Peering at her features in the +starlight, he let her take the handkerchief from his pocket. + +'Oh! what have you got in there?' she said. + +He laid his finger across her mouth, bidding her return to the house. + +'Dear heaven!' Katchen went in murmuring; 'would I have gone out to that +soft-looking young man if I had known he was a devil.' + +Angelo Guidascarpi was aware that an officer without responsibility +never sleeps faster than when his brothers-in-arms have to be obedient +to the reveillee. At two in the morning the bugle rang out: many lighted +cigars were flashing among the dark passages of the inn; the whitecoats +were disposed in marching order; hot coffee was hastily swallowed; the +last stragglers from the stables, the outhouses, the court, and the +straw beds under roofs of rock, had gathered to the main body. The march +set forward. A pair of officers sent a shout up to the drowsy windows, +'Good luck to you, Weisspriess!' Angelo descended from the concealment +of the opposite trees, where he had stationed himself to watch the +departure. The inn was like a sleeper who has turned over. He made +Katchen bring him bread and slices of meat and a flask of wine, which +things found a place in his pockets: and paying for his mistress and +himself, he awaited Vittoria's foot on the stairs. When Vittoria came +she asked no questions, but said to Katchen, 'You may kiss me'; +and Kitchen began crying; she believed that they were lovers daring +everything for love. + +'You have a clear start of an hour and a half. Leave the high-road then, +and turn left through the forest and ask for Bormio. If you reach Tyrol, +and come to Silz, tell people that you know Katchen Giesslinger, and +they will be kind to you.' + +So saying, she let them out into the black-eyed starlight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +ADVENTURES OF VITTORIA AND ANGELO + +Nothing was distinguishable for the flying couple save the high-road +winding under rock and forest, and here and there a coursing water in +the depths of the ravines, that showed like a vein in black marble. +They walked swiftly, keeping brisk ears for sound of hoof or foot behind +them. Angelo promised her that she should rest after the morning light +had come; but she assured him that she could bear fatigue, and her firm +cheerfulness lent his heart vigour. At times they were hooded with the +darkness, which came on them as if, as benighted children fancy, their +faces were about to meet the shaggy breast of the forest. Rising up to +lighter air, they had sight of distant twinklings: it might be city, or +autumn weed, or fires of the woodmen, or beacon fires: they glimmered +like eyelets to the mystery of the vast unseen land. Innumerable brooks +went talking to the night: torrents in seasons of rain, childish voices +now, with endless involutions of a song of three notes and a sort of +unnoted clanging chorus, as if a little one sang and would sing on +through the thumping of a tambourine and bells. Vittoria had these +fancies: Angelo had none. He walked like a hunted man whose life is at +stake. + +'If we reach a village soon we may get some conveyance,' he said. + +'I would rather walk than drive,' said Vittoria; 'it keeps me from +thinking! + +'There is the dawn, signorina! + +Vittoria frightened him by taking a seat upon a bench of rock; while +it was still dark about them, she drew off Camilla's silken shoes and +stockings, and stood on bare feet. + +'You fancied I was tired,' she said. 'No, I am thrifty; and I want to +save as much of my finery as I can. I can go very well on naked feet. +These shoes are no protection; they would be worn out in half-a-day, and +spoilt for decent wearing in another hour.' + +The sight of fair feet upon hard earth troubled Angelo; he excused +himself for calling her out to endure hardship; but she said, 'I trust +you entirely.' She looked up at the first thin wave of colour while +walking. + +'You do not know me,' said he. + +'You are the Countess Ammiani's nephew.' + +'I have, as I had the honour to tell you yesterday, the blood of your +lover in my veins.' + +'Do not speak of him now, I pray,' said Vittoria; 'I want my strength! + +'Signorina, the man we have left behind us is his enemy;--mine. I would +rather see you dead than alive in his hands. Do you fear death?' + +'Sometimes; when I am half awake,' she confessed. 'I dislike thinking of +it.' + +He asked her curiously: 'Have you never seen it?' + +'Death?' said she, and changed a shudder to a smile; 'I died last +night.' + +Angelo smiled with her. 'I saw you die! + +'It seems a hundred years ago.' + +'Or half-a-dozen minutes. The heart counts everything' + +'Was I very much liked by the people, Signor Angelo?' + +'They love you.' + +'I have done them no good.' + +'Every possible good. And now, mine is the duty to protect you.' + +'And yesterday we were strangers! Signor Angelo, you spoke of sbirri. +There is no rising in Bologna. Why are they after you? You look too +gentle to give them cause.' + +'Do I look gentle? But what I carry is no burden. Who that saw you last +night would know you for Camilla? You will hear of my deeds, and judge. +We shall soon have men upon the road; you must be hidden. See, there: +there are our colours in the sky. Austria cannot wipe them out. Since I +was a boy I have always slept in a bed facing East, to keep that truth +before my eyes. Black and yellow drop to the earth: green, white, and +red mount to heaven. If more of my countrymen saw these meanings!--but +they are learning to. My tutor called them Germanisms. If so, I have +stolen a jewel from my enemy.' + +Vittoria mentioned the Chief. + +'Yes,' said Angelo; 'he has taught us to read God's handwriting. I +revere him. It's odd; I always fancy I hear his voice from a dungeon, +and seeing him looking at one light. He has a fault: he does not +comprehend the feelings of a nobleman. Do you think he has made a +convert of our Carlo in that? Never! High blood is ineradicable.' + +'I am not of high blood,' said Vittoria. + +'Countess Ammiani overlooks it. And besides, low blood may be elevated +without the intervention of a miracle. You have a noble heart, +signorina. It may be the will of God that you should perpetuate our +race. All of us save Carlo Ammiani seem to be falling.' + +Vittoria bent her head, distressed by a broad beam of sunlight. The +country undulating to the plain lay under them, the great Alps above, +and much covert on all sides. They entered a forest pathway, following +chance for safety. The dark leafage and low green roofing tasted +sweeter to their senses than clear air and sky. Dark woods are home +to fugitives, and here there was soft footing, a surrounding +gentleness,--grass, and moss with dead leaves peacefully flat on it. The +birds were not timorous, and when a lizard or a snake slipped away from +her feet, it was amusing to Vittoria and did not hurt her tenderness to +see that they were feared. Threading on beneath the trees, they wound by +a valley's incline, where tumbled stones blocked the course of a green +water, and filled the lonely place with one onward voice. When the sun +stood over the valley they sat beneath a chestnut tree in a semicircle +of orange rock to eat the food which Angelo had procured at the inn. He +poured out wine for her in the hollow of a stone, deep as an egg-shell, +whereat she sipped, smiling at simple contrivances; but no smile crossed +the face of Angelo. He ate and drank to sustain his strength, as a +weapon is sharpened; and having done, he gathered up what was left, and +lay at her feet with his eyes fixed upon an old grey stone. She, too, +sat brooding. The endless babble and noise of the water had hardened +the sense of its being a life in that solitude. The floating of a hawk +overhead scarce had the character of an animated thing. Angelo turned +round to look at her, and looking upward as he lay, his sight was +smitten by spots of blood upon one of her torn white feet, that was but +half-nestled in the folds of her dress. Bending his head down, like +a bird beaking at prey, he kissed the foot passionately. Vittoria's +eyelids ran up; a chord seemed to snap within her ears: she stole the +shamed foot into concealment, and throbbed, but not fearfully, +for Angelo's forehead was on the earth. Clumps of grass, and sharp +flint-dust stuck between his fists, which were thrust out stiff on +either side of him. She heard him groan heavily. When he raised his +face, it was white as madness. Her womanly nature did not shrink from +caressing it with a touch of soothing hands. + +She chanced to say, 'I am your sister.' + +'No, by God! you are not my sister,' cried the young man. 'She died +without a stain of blood; a lily from head to foot, and went into the +vault so. Our mother will see that. She will kiss the girl in heaven +and see that.' He rose, crying louder: 'Are there echoes here?' But his +voice beat against the rocks undoubted. + +She saw that a frenzy had seized him. He looked with eyes drained of +human objects; standing square, with stiff half-dropped arms, and an +intense melody of wretchedness in his voice. + +'Rinaldo, Rinaldo!' he shouted: 'Clelia!--no answer from man or ghost. +She is dead. We two said to her die! and she died. Therefore she +is silent, for the dead have not a word. Oh! Milan, Milan! accursed +betraying city! I should have found my work in you if you had kept +faith. Now here am I, talking to the strangled throat of this place, and +can get no answer. Where am I? The world is hollow: the miserable shell! +They lied. Battle and slaughter they promised me, and enemies like ripe +maize for the reaping-hook. I would have had them in thick to my hands. +I would have washed my hands at night, and eaten and drunk and slept, +and sung again to work in the morning. They promised me a sword and +a sea to plunge it in, and our mother Italy to bless me. I would have +toiled: I would have done good in my life. I would have bathed my +soul in our colours. I would have had our flag about my body for a +winding-sheet, and the fighting angels of God to unroll me. Now here am +I, and my own pale mother trying at every turn to get in front of me. +Have her away! It's a ghost, I know. She will be touching the strength +out of me. She is not the mother I love and I serve. Go: cherish your +daughter, you dead woman!' + +Angelo reeled. 'A spot of blood has sent me mad,' he said, and caught +for a darkness to cross his sight, and fell and lay flat. + +Vittoria looked around her; her courage was needed in that long silence. + +She adopted his language: 'Our mother Italy is waiting for us. We must +travel on, and not be weary. Angelo, my friend, lend me your help over +these stones.' + +He rose quietly. She laid her elbow on his hand; thus supported she left +a place that seemed to shudder. All the heavy day they walked almost +silently; she not daring to probe his anguish with a question; and he +calm and vacant as the hour following thunder. But, of her safety by his +side she had no longer a doubt. She let him gather weeds and grasses, +and bind them across her feet, and perform friendly services, sure +that nothing earthly could cause such a mental tempest to recur. The +considerate observation which at all seasons belongs to true courage +told her that it was not madness afflicting Angelo. + +Near nightfall they came upon a forester's hut, where they were welcomed +by an old man and a little girl, who gave them milk and black bread, and +straw to rest on. Angelo slept in the outer air. When Vittoria awoke she +had the fancy that she had taken one long dive downward in a well; +and on touching the bottom found her head above the surface. While her +surprise was wearing off, she beheld the woodman's little girl at her +feet holding up one end of her cloak, and peeping underneath, overcome +by amazement at the flashing richness of the dress of the heroine +Camilla. Entering into the state of her mind spontaneously, Vittoria +sought to induce the child to kiss her; but quite vainly. The child's +reverence for the dress allowed her only to be within reach of the hem +of it, so as to delight her curiosity. Vittoria smiled when, as she sat +up, the child fell back against the wall; and as she rose to her feet, +the child scampered from the room. 'My poor Camilla! you can charm +somebody, yet,' she said, limping; her visage like a broken water with +the pain of her feet. 'If the bell rings for Camilla now, what sort +of an entry will she make?' Vittoria treated her physical weakness and +ailments with this spirit of humour. 'They may say that Michiella has +bewitched you, my Camilla. I think your voice would sound as if it were +dragging its feet after it just as a stork flies. O my Camilla! don't +I wish I could do the same, and be ungraceful and at ease! A moan is +married to every note of your treble, my Camilla, like December and May. +Keep me from shrieking!' + +The pangs shooting from her feet were scarce bearable, but the +repression of them helped her to meet Angelo with a freer mind than, +after the interval of separation, she would have had. The old woodman +was cooking a queer composition of flour and milk sprinkled with salt +for them. Angelo cut a stout cloth to encase each of her feet, and bound +them in it. He was more cheerful than she had ever seen him, and now +first spoke of their destination. His design was to conduct her near +to Bormio, there to engage a couple of men in her service who would +accompany her to Meran, by the Val di Sole, while he crossed the Stelvio +alone, and turning leftward in the Tyrolese valley, tried the passage +into Switzerland. + +Bormio, if, when they quitted the forest, a conveyance could be +obtained, was no more than a short day's distance, according to the old +woodman's directions. Vittoria induced the little girl to sit upon her +knee, and sang to her, but greatly unspirited the charm of her dress. +The sun was rising as they bade adieu to the hut. + +About mid-day they quitted the shelter of forest trees and stood on +broken ground, without a path to guide them. Vittoria did her best to +laugh at her mishaps in walking, and compared herself to a Capuchin +pilgrim; but she was unused to going bareheaded and shoeless, and though +she held on bravely, the strong beams of the sun and the stony ways +warped her strength. She had to check fancies drawn from Arabian tales, +concerning the help sometimes given by genii of the air and enchanted +birds, that were so incessant and vivid that she found herself sulking +at the loneliness and helplessness of the visible sky, and feared that +her brain was losing its hold of things. Angelo led her to a half-shaded +hollow, where they finished the remainder of yesterday's meat and wine. +She set her eyes upon a gold-green lizard by a stone and slept. + +'The quantity of sleep I require is unmeasured,' she said, a minute +afterwards, according to her reckoning of time, and expected to see +the lizard still by the stone. Angelo was near her; the sky was full of +colours, and the earth of shadows. + +'Another day gone!' she exclaimed in wonderment, thinking that the days +of human creatures had grown to be as rapid and (save toward the one +end) as meaningless as the gaspings of a fish on dry land. He told her +that he had explored the country as far as he had dared to stray from +her. He had seen no habitation along the heights. The vale was too +distant for strangers to reach it before nightfall. 'We can make a +little way on,' said Vittoria, and the trouble of walking began again. +He entreated her more than once to have no fear. 'What can I fear?' she +asked. His voice sank penitently: 'You can rely on me fully when there +is anything to do for you.' + +'I am sure of that,' she replied, knowing his allusion to be to his +frenzy of yesterday. In truth, no woman could have had a gentler +companion. + +On the topmost ridge of the heights, looking over an interminable gulf +of darkness they saw the lights of the vale. 'A bird might find his +perch there, but I think there is no chance for us,' said Vittoria. 'The +moment we move forward to them the lights will fly back. It is their way +of behaving.' + +Angelo glanced round desperately. Farther on along the ridge his eye +caught sight of a low smouldering fire. When he reached it he had a +great disappointment. A fire in the darkness gives hopes that men will +be at hand. Here there was not any human society. The fire crouched on +its ashes. It was on a little circular eminence of mossed rock; black +sticks, and brushwood, and dry fern, and split logs, pitchy to the +touch, lay about; in the centre of them the fire coiled sullenly among +its ashes, with a long eye like a serpent's. + +'Could you sleep here?' said Angelo. + +'Anywhere!' Vittoria sighed with droll dolefulness. + +'I can promise to keep you warm, signorina.' + +'I will not ask for more till to-morrow, my friend.' + +She laid herself down sideways, curling up her feet, with her cheek on +the palm of her hand. + +Angelo knelt and coaxed the fire, whose appetite, like that which is +said to be ours, was fed by eating, for after the red jaws had taken +half-a-dozen sticks, it sang out for more, and sent up flame leaping +after flame and thick smoke. Vittoria watched the scene through a thin +division of her eyelids; the fire, the black abyss of country, the +stars, and the sentinel figure. She dozed on the edge of sleep, unable +to yield herself to it wholly. She believed that she was dreaming when +by-and-by many voices filled her ears. The fire was sounding like an +angry sea, and the voices were like the shore, more intelligible, but +confused in shriller clamour. She was awakened by Angelo, who knelt on +one knee and took her outlying hand; then she saw that men surrounded +them, some of whom were hurling the lighted logs about, some trampling +down the outer rim of flames. They looked devilish to a first awakening +glance. He told her that the men were friendly; they were good Italians. +This had been the beacon arranged for the night of the Fifteenth, when +no run of signals was seen from Milan; and yesterday afternoon it +had been in mockery partially consumed. 'We have aroused the country, +signorina, and brought these poor fellows out of their beds. They +supposed that Milan must be up and at work. I have explained everything +to them.' + +Vittoria had rather to receive their excuses than to proffer her own. +They were mostly youths dressed like the better class of peasantry. They +laughed at the incident, stating how glad they would have been to behold +the heights all across the lakes ablaze and promising action for the +morrow. One square-shouldered fellow raised her lightly from the ground. +She felt herself to be a creature for whom circumstance was busily +plotting, so that it was useless to exert her mind in thought. The long +procession sank down the darkness, leaving the low red fire to die out +behind them. + +Next morning she awoke in a warm bed, possessed by odd images of flames +that stood up like crowing cocks, and cowered like hens above the brood. +She was in the house of one of their new friends, and she could hear +Angelo talking in the adjoining room. A conveyance was ready to take her +on to Bormio. A woman came to her to tell her this, appearing to have +a dull desire to get her gone. She was a draggled woman, with a face of +slothful anguish, like one of the inner spectres of a guilty man. She +said that her husband was willing to drive the lady to Bormio for a sum +that was to be paid at once into his wife's hand; and little enough +it was which poor persons could ever look for from your patriots and +disturbers who seduced orderly men from their labour, and made widows +and ruined households. This was a new Italian language to Vittoria, +and when the woman went on giving instances of households ruined by a +husband's vile infatuation about his country, she did not attempt to +defend the reckless lord, but dressed quickly that she might leave the +house as soon as she could. Her stock of money barely satisfied the +woman's demand. The woman seized it, and secreted it in her girdle. +When they had passed into the sitting-room, her husband, who was sitting +conversing with Angelo, stretched out his hand and knocked the girdle. + +'That's our trick,' he said. 'I guessed so. Fund up, our little Maria of +the dirty fingers'-ends! We accept no money from true patriots. Grub in +other ground, my dear!' + +The woman stretched her throat awry, and set up a howl like a dog; but +her claws came out when he seized her. + +'Would you disgrace me, old fowl?' + +'Lorenzo, may you rot like a pumpkin!' + +The connubial reciprocities were sharp until the money lay on the table, +when the woman began whining so miserably that Vittoria's sensitive +nerves danced on her face, and at her authoritative interposition, +Lorenzo very reluctantly permitted his wife to take what he chose to +reckon a fair portion of the money, and also of his contempt. She seemed +to be licking the money up, she bent over it so greedily. + +'Poor wretch!' he observed; 'she was born on a hired bed.' + +Vittoria felt that the recollection of this woman would haunt her. It +was inconceivable to her that a handsome young man like Lorenzo should +ever have wedded the unsweet creature, who was like a crawling image of +decay; but he, as if to account for his taste, said that they had been +of a common age once, when he married her; now she had grown old. He +repeated that she 'was born on a hired bed.' They saw nothing further of +her. + +Vittoria's desire was to get to Meran speedily, that she might see +her friends, and have tidings of her lover and the city. Those baffled +beacon-flames on the heights had become an irritating indicative vision: +she thirsted for the history. Lorenzo offered to conduct her over the +Tonale Pass into the Val di Sole, or up the Val Furva, by the pass of +the Corno dei Tre Signori, into the Val del Monte to Pejo, thence by +Cles, or by Bolzano, to Meran. But she required shoeing and refitting; +and for other reasons also, she determined to go on to Bormio. She +supposed that Angelo had little money, and that in a place such as +Bormio sounded to her ears she might possibly obtain the change for +the great money-order which the triumph of her singing had won from +Antonio-Pericles. In spite of Angelo's appeals to her to hurry on to +the end of her journey without tempting chance by a single pause, she +resolved to go to Bormio. Lorenzo privately assured her that there were +bankers in Bormio. Many bankers, he said, came there from Milan, and +that fact she thought sufficient for her purpose. The wanderers parted +regretfully. A little chapel, on a hillock off the road, shaded by +chestnuts, was pointed out to Lorenzo where to bring a letter for +Angelo. Vittoria begged Angelo to wait till he heard from her; and then, +with mutual wavings of hands, she was driven out of his sight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS + +After parting from Vittoria, Angelo made his way to an inn, where he ate +and drank like a man of the fields, and slept with the power of one from +noon till after morning. The innkeeper came up to his room, and, finding +him awake, asked him if he was disposed to take a second holiday in +bed. Angelo jumped up; as he did so, his stiletto slipped from under his +pillow and flashed. + +'That's a pretty bit of steel,' said the innkeeper, but could not get a +word out of him. It was plain to Angelo that this fellow had suspicions. +Angelo had been careful to tie up his clothes in a bundle; there was +nothing for the innkeeper to see, save a young man in bed, who had a +terrible weapon near his hand, and a look in his eyes of wary indolence +that counselled prudent dealings. He went out, and returned a second and +a third time, talking more and more confusedly and fretfully; but as he +was again going to leave, 'No, no,' said Angelo, determined to give him +a lesson, 'I have taken a liking to your company. Here, come here; I +will show you a trick. I learnt it from the Servians when I was three +feet high. Look; I lie quite still, you observe. Try to get on the other +side of that door and the point of this blade shall scratch you through +it.' + +Angelo laid the blue stilet up his wrist, and slightly curled his arm. +'Try,' he repeated, but the innkeeper had stopped short in his movement +to the door. 'Well, then, stay where you are,' said Angelo, 'and look; +I'll be as good as my word. There's the point I shall strike.' With that +he gave the peculiar Servian jerk of the muscles, from the wrist up to +the arm, and the blade quivered on the mark. The innkeeper fell back in +admiring horror. 'Now fetch it to me,' said Angelo, putting both +hands carelessly under his head. The innkeeper tugged at the blade. +'Illustrious signore, I am afraid of breaking it,' he almost whimpered; +'it seems alive, does it not?' + +'Like a hawk on a small bird,' said Angelo; 'that's the beauty of those +blades. They kill, and put you to as little pain as a shot; and it 's +better than a shot in your breast--there's something to show for it. +Send up your wife or your daughter to take orders about my breakfast. It +'s the breakfast of five mountaineers; and don't “Illustrious signore” + me, sir, either in my hearing or out of it. Leave the knife sticking.' + +The innkeeper sidled out with a dumb salute. 'I can count on his +discretion for a couple of hours,' Angelo said to himself. He knew +the effect of an exhibition of physical dexterity and strength upon +a coward. The landlord's daughter came and received his orders for +breakfast. Angelo inquired whether they had been visited by Germans of +late. The girl told him that a German chasseur with a couple of soldiers +had called them up last night. + +'Wouldn't it have been a pity if they had dragged me out and shot me?' +said Angelo. + +'But they were after a lady,' she explained; 'they have gone on to +Bormio, and expect to catch her there or in the mountains.' + +'Better there than in the mountains, my dear; don't you think so?' + +The girl said that she would not like to meet those fellows among the +mountains. + +'Suppose you were among the mountains, and those fellows came up with +you; wouldn't you clap your hands to see me jumping down right in front +of you all?' said Angelo. + +'Yes, I should,' she admitted. 'What is one man, though!' + +'Something, if he feeds like five. Quick! I must eat. Have you a lover?' + +'Yes.' + +'Fancy you are waiting on him.' + +'He's only a middling lover, signore. He lives at Cles, over Val Pejo, +in Val di Non, a long way, and courts me twice a year, when he comes +over to do carpentering. He cuts very pretty Madonnas. He is a German.' + +'Ha! you kneel to the Madonna, and give your lips to a German? Go.' + +'But I don't like him much, signore; it's my father who wishes me to +have him; he can make money.' + +Angelo motioned to her to be gone, saying to himself, 'That father of +hers would betray the Saints for a handful of florins.' + +He dressed, and wrenched his knife from the door. Hearing the clatter +of a horse at the porch, he stopped as he was descending the stairs. +A German voice said, 'Sure enough, my jolly landlord, she's there, in +Worms--your Bormio. Found her at the big hotel: spoke not a syllable; +stole away, stole away. One chopin of wine! I'm off on four legs to the +captain. Those lads who are after her by Roveredo and Trent have bad +noses. “Poor nose--empty belly.” Says the captain, “I stick at the point +of the cross-roads.” Says I, “Herr Captain, I'm back to you first of the +lot.” My business is to find the runaway lady-pretty Fraulein! pretty +Fraulein! lai-ai! There's money on her servant, too; he's a disguised +Excellency--a handsome boy; but he has cut himself loose, and he go +hang. Two birds for the pride of the thing; one for satisfaction--I 'm +satisfied. I've killed chamois in my time. Jacob, I am; Baumwalder, I +am; Feckelwitz, likewise; and the very devil for following a track. Ach! +the wine is good. You know the song? + + “He who drinks wine, he may cry with a will, + Fortune is mine, may she stick to me still.” + +I give it you in German--the language of song! my own, my native +'lai-ai-lai-ai-la-la-lai-ai-i-ie!' + + “While stars still sit + On mountain tops, + I take my gun, + Kiss little one + On mother's breast. + Ai-iu-e! + + “My pipe is lit, + I climb the slopes, + I meet the dawn + A little one + On mother's breast. + Ai-aie: ta-ta-tai: iu-iu-iu-e!” + +Another chopin, my jolly landlord. What's that you're mumbling? About +the servant of my runaway young lady? He go hang! What----?' + +Angelo struck his foot heavily on the stairs; the innkeeper coughed and +ran back, bowing to his guest. The chasseur cried, 'I 'll drink farther +on-wine between gaps!' A coin chinked on the steps in accompaniment +to the chasseur's departing gallop. 'Beast of a Tedesco,' the landlord +exclaimed as he picked up the money; 'they do the reckoning--not we. If +I had served him with the worth of this, I should have had the bottle at +my head. What a country ours is! We're ridden over, ridden over!' +Angelo compelled the landlord to sit with him while he ate like five +mountaineers. He left mere bones on the table. 'It's wonderful,' said +the innkeeper; 'you can't know what fear is.' + +'I think I don't,' Angelo replied; 'you do; cowards have to serve every +party in turn. Up, and follow at my heels till I dismiss you. You know +the pass into the Val Pejo and the Val di Sole.' The innkeeper stood +entrenched behind a sturdy negative. Angelo eased him to submission +by telling him that he only wanted the way to be pointed out. 'Bring +tobacco; you're going to have an idle day,' said Angelo: 'I pay you when +we separate.' He was deaf to entreaties and refusals, and began to +look mad about the eyes; his poor coward plied him with expostulations, +offered his wife, his daughter, half the village, for the service: he +had to follow, but would take no cigars. Angelo made his daughter fetch +bread and cigars, and put a handful in his pocket, upon which, after +two hours of inactivity at the foot of the little chapel, where Angelo +waited for the coming of Vittoria's messenger, the innkeeper was glad +to close his fist. About noon Lorenzo came, and at once acted a play of +eyes for Angelo to perceive his distrust of the man and a multitude of +bad things about him he was reluctant, notwithstanding Angelo's ready +nod, to bring out a letter; and frowned again, for emphasis to the +expressive comedy. The letter said: + +'I have fallen upon English friends. They lend me money. Fly to Lugano +by the help of these notes: I inclose them, and will not ask pardon +for it. The Valtellina is dangerous; the Stelvio we know to be watched. +Retrace your way, and then try the Engadine. I should stop on a breaking +bridge if I thought my companion, my Carlo's cousin, was near capture. +I am well taken care of: one of my dearest friends, a captain in the +English army, bears me company across. I have a maid from one of the +villages, a willing girl. We ride up to the mountains; to-morrow we +cross the pass; there is a glacier. Val di Non sounds Italian, but I +am going into the enemy's land. You see I am well guarded. My immediate +anxiety concerns you; for what will our Carlo ask of me? Lose not one +moment. Away, and do not detain Lorenzo. He has orders to meet us up +high in the mountain this evening. He is the best of servants but +I always meet the best everywhere--that is, in Italy. Leaving it, I +grieve. No news from Milan, except of great confusion there. I judge by +the quiet of my sleep that we have come to no harm there. + + 'Your faithfullest + + 'VITTORIA.' + +Lorenzo and the innkeeper had arrived at an altercation before Angelo +finished reading. Angelo checked it, and told Lorenzo to make speed: he +sent no message. + +'My humanity,' Angelo then addressed his craven associate, 'counsels me +that it's better to drag you some distance on than to kill you. You 're +a man of intelligence, and you know why I have to consider the matter. I +give you guide's pay up to the glacier, and ten florins buon'mano. Would +you rather earn it with the blood of a countryman? I can't let that +tongue of yours be on the high-road of running Tedeschi: you know it. + +'Illustrious signore, obedience oils necessity,' quoth the innkeeper. +'If we had but a few more of my cigars!' + +'Step on,' said Angelo sternly. + +They walked till dark and they were in keen air. A hut full of recent +grass-cuttings, on the border of a sloping wood, sheltered them. The +innkeeper moaned for food at night and in the morning, and Angelo +tossed him pieces of bread. Beyond the wood they came upon bare crag and +commenced a sharper ascent, reached the height, and roused an eagle. +The great bird went up with a sharp yelp, hanging over them with knotted +claws. Its shadow stretched across sweeps of fresh snow. The innkeeper +sent a mocking yelp after the eagle. + +'Up here, one forgets one is a father--what's more, a husband,' he said, +striking a finger on the side of his nose. + +'And a cur, a traitor, carrion,' said Angelo. + +'Ah, signore, one might know you were a noble. You can't understand +our troubles, who carry a house on our heads, and have to fill mouths +agape.' + +'Speak when you have better to say,' Angelo replied. + +'Padrone, one would really like to have your good opinion; and I'm lean +as a wolf for a morsel of flesh. I could part with my buon'mano for a +sight of red meat--oh! red meat dripping.' + +'If,' cried Angelo, bringing his eyebrows down black on the man, 'if I +knew that you had ever in your life betrayed one of us look below; there +you should lie to be pecked and gnawed at.' + +'Ah, Jacopo Cruchi, what an end for you when you are full of good +meanings!' the innkeeper moaned. 'I see your ribs, my poor soul!' + +Angelo quitted him. The tremendous excitement of the Alpine solitudes +was like a stringent wine to his surcharged spirit. He was one to whom +life and death had become as the yes and no of ordinary men: not more +than a turning to the right or to the left. It surprised him that this +fellow, knowing his own cowardice and his conscience, should consent to +live, and care to eat to live. + +When he returned to his companion, he found the fellow drinking from +the flask of an Austrian soldier. Another whitecoat was lying near. They +pressed Angelo to drink, and began to play lubberly pranks. One clapped +hands, while another rammed the flask at the reluctant mouth, till +Angelo tripped him and made him a subject for derision; whereupon they +were all good friends. Musket on shoulder, the soldiers descended, +blowing at their finger-nails and puffing at their tobacco--lauter +kaiserlicher (rank Imperial), as with a sad enforcement of resignation +they had, while lighting, characterized the universally detested +Government issue of the leaf. + +'They are after her,' said Jacopo, and he shot out his thumb and twisted +an eyelid. His looks became insolent, and he added: 'I let them go on; +but now, for my part, I must tell you, my worthy gentleman, I've had +enough of it. You go your way, I go mine. Pay me, and we part. With the +utmost reverence, I quit you. Climbing mountains at my time of life is +out of all reason. If you want companions, I 'll signal to that pair of +Tedeschi; they're within hail. Would you like it? Say the word, if you +would--hey!' + +Angelo smiled at the visible effect of the liquor. + +'Barto Rizzo would be the man to take you in hand,' he remarked. + +The innkeeper flung his head back to ejaculate, and murmured, 'Barto +Rizzo! defend me from him! Why, he levies contribution upon us in the +Valtellina for the good of Milan; and if we don't pay, we're all of us +down in a black book. Disobey, and it's worse than swearing you won't +pay taxes to the legitimate--perdition to it!--Government. Do you know +Barto Rizzo, padrone? You don't know him, I hope? I'm sure you wouldn't +know such a fellow.' + +'I am his favourite pupil,' said Angelo. + +'I'd have sworn it,' groaned the innkeeper, and cursed the day and hour +when Angelo crossed his threshold. That done, he begged permission to +be allowed to return, crying with tears of entreaty for mercy: 'Barto +Rizzo's pupils are always out upon bloody business!' Angelo told him +that he had now an opportunity of earning the approval of Barto Rizzo, +and then said, 'On,' and they went in the track of the two whitecoats; +the innkeeper murmuring all the while that he wanted the approval of +Barto Rizzo as little as his enmity; he wanted neither frost nor fire. +The glacier being traversed, they skirted a young stream, and arrived at +an inn, where they found the soldiers regaling. Jacopo was informed by +them that the lady whom they were pursuing had not passed. They pushed +their wine for Angelo to drink: he declined, saying that he had sworn +not to drink before he had shot the chamois with the white cross on his +back. + +'Come: we're two to one,' they said, 'and drink you shall this time!' + +'Two to two,' returned Angelo: 'here is my Jacopo, and if he doesn't +count for one, I won't call him father-in-law, and the fellow living at +Cles may have his daughter without fighting for her.' + +'Right so,' said one of the soldiers, 'and you don't speak bad German +already.' + +'Haven't I served in the ranks?' said Angelo, giving a bugle-call of the +reveille of the cavalry. + +He got on with them so well that they related the object of their +expedition, which was, to catch a runaway young rebel lady and hold her +fast down at Cles for the great captain--'unser tuchtiger Hauptmann.' + +'Hadn't she a servant, a sort of rascal?' Angelo inquired. + +'Right so; she had: but the doe's the buck in this chase.' + +Angelo tossed them cigars. The valley was like a tumbled mountain, thick +with crags and eminences, through which the river worked strenuously, +sinuous in foam, hurrying at the turns. Angelo watched all the ways from +a distant height till set of sun. He saw another couple of soldiers meet +those two at the inn, and then one pair went up toward the vale-head. +It seemed as if Vittoria had disconcerted them by having chosen another +route. + +'Padrone,' said Jacopo to him abruptly, when they descended to find a +resting-place, 'you are, I speak humbly, so like the devil that I must +enter into a stipulation with you, before I continue in your company, +and take the worst at once. This is going to be the second night of my +sleeping away from my wife: I merely mention it. I pinch her, and she +beats me, and we are equal. But if you think of making me fight, I tell +you I won't. If there was a furnace behind me, I should fall into it +rather than run against a bayonet. I 've heard say that the nerves are +in the front part of us, and that's where I feel the shock. Now we're +on a plain footing. Say that I'm not to fight. I'll be your servant till +you release me, but say I 'm not to fight; padrone, say that.' + +'I can't say that: I'll say I won't make you fight,' Angelo pacified him +by replying. From this moment Jacopo followed him less like a graceless +dog pulled by his chain. In fact, with the sense of prospective +security, he tasted a luxurious amazement in being moved about by a +superior will, wafted from his inn, and paid for witnessing strange +incidents. Angelo took care that he was fed well at the place where +they slept, but himself ate nothing. Early after dawn they mounted the +heights above the road. It was about noon that Angelo discerned a party +coming from the pass on foot, consisting of two women and three men. +They rested an hour at the village where he had slept overnight; the +muskets were a quarter of a mile to the rear of them. When they started +afresh, one of the muskets was discharged, and while the echoes were +rolling away, a reply to it sounded in the front. Angelo, from his post +of observation, could see that Vittoria and her party were marching +between two guards, and that she herself must have perceived both the +front and rearward couple. Yet she and her party held on their course at +an even pace. For a time he kept them clearly in view; but it was tough +work along the slopes of crag: presently Jacopo slipped and went down. +'Ah, padrone,' he said: 'I'm done for; leave me.' + +'Not though I should have to haul you on my back,' replied Angelo. 'If I +do leave you, I must cut out your tongue.' + +'Rather than that, I'd go on a sprained ankle,' said Jacopo, and he +strove manfully to conquer pain; limping and exclaiming, 'Oh, my little +village! Oh, my little inn! When can a man say that he has finished +running about the world! The moment he sits, in comes the devil.' + +Angelo was obliged to lead him down to the open way, upon which they +made slow progress. + +'The noble gentleman might let me return--he might trust me now,' Jacopo +whimpered. + +'The devil trusts nobody,' said Angelo. + +'Ah, padrone! there's a crucifix. Let me kneel by that.' + +Angelo indulged him. Jacopo knelt by the wayside and prayed for an easy +ankle and a snoring pillow and no wakeners. After this he was refreshed. +The sun sank; the darkness spread around; the air grew icy. 'Does the +Blessed Virgin ever consider what patriots have to endure?' Jacopo +muttered to himself, and aroused a rare laugh from Angelo, who seized +him under the arm, half-lifting him on. At the inn where they rested, he +bathed and bandaged the foot. + +'I can't help feeling a kindness to you for it,' said Jacopo. + +'I can't afford to leave you behind,' Angelo accounted for his +attention. + +'Padrone, we've been understanding one another all along by our thumbs. +It's that old inn of mine--the taxes! we have to sell our souls to pay +the taxes. There's the tongue of the thing. I wouldn't betray you; I +wouldn't.' + +'I'll try you,' said Angelo, and put him to proof next day, when the +soldiers stopped them as they were driving in a cart, and Jacopo swore +to them that Angelo was his intended son-in-law. + +There was evidently an unusual activity among the gendarmerie of the +lower valley, the Val di Non; for Jacopo had to repeat his fable more +than once, and Angelo thought it prudent not to make inquiries about +travellers. In this valley they were again in summer heat. Summer +splendours robed the broken ground. The Val di Non lies toward the +sun, banked by the Val di Sole, like the southern lizard under a stone. +Chestnut forest and shoulder over shoulder of vineyard, and meadows of +marvellous emerald, with here and there central partly-wooded crags, +peaked with castle-ruins, and ancestral castles that are still warm +homes, and villages dropped among them, and a river bounding and rushing +eagerly through the rich enclosure, form the scene, beneath that Italian +sun which turns everything to gold. There is a fair breadth to the vale: +it enjoys a great oval of sky: the falls of shade are dispersed, dot the +hollow range, and are not at noontide a broad curtain passing over from +right to left. The sun reigns and also governs in the Val di Non. + +'The grape has his full benefit here, padrone,' said Jacopo. + +But the place was too populous, and too much subjected to the +general eye, to please Angelo. At Cles they were compelled to bear +an inspection, and a little comedy occurred. Jacopo, after exhibiting +Angelo as his son-in-law, seeing doubts on the soldiers' faces, +mentioned the name of the German suitor for his daughter's hand--the +carpenter, Johann Spellmann, to whose workshop he requested to be taken. +Johann, being one of the odd Germans in the valley, was well known: he +was carving wood astride a stool, and stopped his whistling to listen +to the soldiers, who took the first word out of Jacopo's mouth, and were +convinced, by Johann's droop of the chin, that the tale had some truth +in it; and more when Johann yelled at the Valtelline innkeeper to know +why, then, he had come to him, if he was prepared to play him false. One +of the soldiers said bluntly, that as Angelo's appearance answered to +the portrait of a man for whom they were on the lookout, they would, +if their countryman liked, take him and give him a dose of marching and +imprisonment. + +'Ach! that won't make my little Rosetta love me better,' cried Johann, +who commenced taking up a string of reproaches against women, and +pitched his carving-blade and tools abroad in the wood-dust. + +'Well, now, it 's queer you don't want to fight this lad,' said Jacopo; +'he's come to square it with you that way, if you think best.' + +Johann spared a remark between his vehement imprecations against the +sex to say that he was ready to fight; but his idea of vengeance was +directed upon the abstract conception of a faithless womankind. Angelo, +by reason of his detestation of Germans, temporarily threw himself into +the part he was playing to the extent of despising him. Johann admitted +to Jacopo that intervals of six months' duration in a courtship were +wide jumps for Love to take. + +'Yes; amor! amor!' he exclaimed with extreme dejection; 'I could wait. +Well! since you've brought the young man, we'll have it out.' + +He stepped before Angelo with bare fists. Jacopo had to interpose. The +soldiers backed Johann, who now said to Angelo, 'Since you've come for +it, we'll have it out.' + +Jacopo had great difficulty in bringing him to see that it was a matter +to talk over. Johann swore he would not talk about it, and was ready to +fight a dozen Italians, man up man down. + +'Bare-fisted?' screamed Jacopo. + +'Hey! the old way! Give him knuckles, and break his back, my boy!' cried +the soldiers; 'none of their steel this side of the mountain.' + +Johann waited for Angelo to lift his hands; and to instigate his +reluctant adversary, thumped his chest; but Angelo did not move. The +soldiers roared. + +'If she has you, she shall have a dolly,' said Johann, now heated with +the prospect of presenting that sort of husband to his little Rosetta. +At this juncture Jacopo threw himself between them. + +'It shall be a real fight,' he said; 'my daughter can't make up her +mind, and she shall have the best man. Leave me to arrange it all +fairly; and you come here in a couple of hours, my children,' he +addressed the soldiers, who unwillingly quitted the scene where there +was a certainty of fun, on the assurance of there being a livelier scene +to come. + +When they had turned their heels on the shop, Jacopo made a face at +Johann; Johann swung round upon Angelo, and met a smile. Then followed +explanations. + +'What's that you say? She's true--she's true?' exclaimed the astounded +lover. + +'True enough, but a girl at an inn wants hotter courting,' said Jacopo. +'His Excellency here is after his own sweetheart.' + +Johann huzzaed, hugged at Angelo's hands, and gave a lusty filial tap to +Jacopo on the shoulder. Bread and grapes and Tyrolese wine were placed +for them, and Johann's mother soon produced a salad, eggs, and fowl; +and then and there declared her willingness to receive Rosetta into the +household, 'if she would swear at the outset never to have 'heimweh' +(home-longing); as people--men and women, both--always did when they +took a new home across a mountain.' + +'She won't--will she?' Johann inquired with a dubious sparkle. + +'Not she,' said Jacopo. + +After the meal he drew Johann aside. They returned to Angelo, and Johann +beckoned him to leave the house by a back way, leading up a slope of +garden into high vine-poles. He said that he had seen a party pass +out of Cles from the inn early, in a light car, on for Meran. The +gendarmerie were busy on the road: a mounted officer had dashed up to +the inn an hour later, and had followed them: it was the talk of the +village. + +'Padrone, you dismiss me now,' said Jacopo. + +'I pay you, but don't dismiss you,' said Angelo, and handed him a +bank-note. + +'I stick to you, padrone, till you do dismiss me,' Jacopo sighed. + +Johann offered to conduct them as far as the Monte Pallade pass, and +they started, avoiding the high road, which was enviably broad and +solid. Within view of a village under climbing woods, they discerned an +open car, flanked by bayonets, returning to Cles. Angelo rushed ahead +of them down the declivity, and stood full in the road to meet the +procession. A girl sat in the car, who hung her head, weeping; Lorenzo +was beside her; an Englishman on foot gave employment to a pair of +soldiers to get him along. As they came near at marching pace, Lorenzo +yawned and raised his hand to his cheek, keeping the thumb pointed +behind him. Including the girl, there were four prisoners: Vittoria was +absent. The Englishman, as he was being propelled forward, addressed +Angelo in French, asking him whether he could bear to see an unoffending +foreigner treated with wanton violation of law. The soldiers bellowed at +their captive, and Angelo sent a stupid shrug after him. They rounded a +bend of the road. Angelo tightened the buckle at his waist. + +'Now I trust you,' he said to Jacopo. 'Follow the length of five miles +over the pass: if you don't see me then, you have your liberty, tongue +and all.' + +With that he doubled his arms and set forth at a steady run, leaving +his companions to speculate on his powers of endurance. They did so +complacently enough, until Jacopo backed him for a distance and Johann +betted against him, when behold them at intervals taking a sharp trot to +keep him in view. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +THE DUEL IN THE PASS + +Meanwhile Captain Weisspriess had not been idle. Standing at a blunt +angle of the ways converging upon Vittoria's presumed destination, he +had roused up the gendarmerie along the routes to Meran by Trent on one +side, and Bormio on the other; and he soon came to the conclusion that +she had rejected the valley of the Adige for the Valtelline, whence he +supposed that she would be tempted either to cross the Stelvio or one of +the passes into Southernmost Tyrol. He was led to think that she would +certainly bear upon Switzerland, by a course of reasoning connected +with Angelo Guidascarpi, who, fleeing under the cross of blood, might +be calculated on to push for the mountains of the Republic; and he might +judging by the hazards--conduct the lady thither, to enjoy the fruits of +crime and love in security. The captain, when he had discovered Angelo's +crest and name on the betraying handkerchief, had no doubts concerning +the nature of their intimacy, and he was spurred by a new and thrice +eager desire to capture the couple--the criminal for the purposes of +justice, and the other because he had pledged his notable reputation +in the chase of her. The conscience of this man's vanity was extremely +active. He had engaged to conquer the stubborn girl, and he thought it +possible that he might take a mistress from the patriot ranks, with a +loud ha! ha! at revolutionists, and some triumph over his comrades. And +besides, he was the favourite of Countess Anna of Lenkenstein, who yet +refused to bring her estates to him; she dared to trifle; she also was a +woman who required rude lessons. Weisspriess, a poor soldier bearing +the heritage of lusty appetites, had an eye on his fortune, and served +neither Mars alone nor Venus. Countess Anna was to be among that +company assembled at the Castle of Sonnenberg in Meran; and if, while +introducing Vittoria there with a discreet and exciting reserve, he at +the same time handed over the assassin of Count Paul, a fine harvest of +praise and various pleasant forms of female passion were to be looked +for--a rich vista of a month's intrigue; at the end of it possibly his +wealthy lady, thoroughly tamed, for a wife, and redoubled triumph over +his comrades. Without these successes, what availed the fame of the +keenest swordsman in the Austrian army?--The feast as well as the plumes +of vanity offered rewards for the able exercise of his wits. + +He remained at the sub-Alpine inn until his servant Wilhelm (for whom he +had despatched the duchess's chasseur, then in attendance on Vittoria) +arrived from Milan, bringing his uniform. The chasseur was directed on +the Bormio line, with orders that he should cause the arrest of +Vittoria only in the case of her being on the extreme limit of the Swiss +frontier. Keeping his communications alert, Weisspriess bore that way +to meet him. Fortune smiled on his strategy. Jacob Baumwalder +Feckelwitz--full of wine, and discharging hurrahs along the road--met +him on the bridge over the roaring Oglio, just out of Edolo, and gave +him news of the fugitives. 'Both of them were at the big hotel in +Bormio,' said Jacob; 'and I set up a report that the Stelvio was +watched; and so it is.' He added that he thought they were going to +separate; he had heard something to that effect; he believed that the +young lady was bent upon crossing one of the passes to Meran. Last night +it had devolved on him to kiss away the tears of the young lady's maid, +a Valtelline peasant-girl, who deplored the idea of an expedition over +the mountains, and had, with the usual cat-like tendencies of these +Italian minxes, torn his cheek in return for his assiduities. Jacob +displayed the pretty scratch obtained in the Herr Captain's service, and +got his money for having sighted Vittoria and seen double. Weisspriess +decided in his mind that Angelo had now separated from her (or rather, +she from him) for safety. He thought it very probable that she would +likewise fly to Switzerland. Yet, knowing that there was the attraction +of many friends for her at Meran, he conceived that he should act more +prudently by throwing himself on that line, and he sped Jacob Baumwalder +along the Valtelline by Val Viola, up to Ponte in the Engadine, with +orders to seize her if he could see her, and have her conveyed to Cles, +in Tyrol. Vittoria being only by the gentlest interpretation of her +conduct not under interdict, an unscrupulous Imperial officer might +in those military times venture to employ the gendarmerie for his own +purposes, if he could but give a plausible colour of devotion to the +Imperial interests. + +The chasseur sped lamentingly back, and Weisspriess, taking a guide from +the skirting hamlet above Edolo, quitted the Val Camonica, climbed +the Tonale, and reached Vermiglio in the branch valley of that name, +scientifically observing the features of the country as he went. +At Vermiglio he encountered a brother officer of one of his former +regiments, a fat major on a tour of inspection, who happened to be a +week behind news of the army, and detained him on the pretext of helping +him on his car--a mockery that drove Weisspriess to the perpetual +reply, 'You are my superior officer,' which reduced the major to ask him +whether he had been degraded a step. As usual, Weisspriess was pushed to +assert his haughtiness, backed by the shadow of his sword. 'I am a man +with a family,' said the major, modestly. 'Then I shall call you +my superior officer while they allow you to remain so,' returned +Weisspriess, who scorned a married soldier. + +'I aspired to the Staff once myself,' said the major. 'Unfortunately, I +grew in girth--the wrong way for ambition. I digest, I assimilate with +a fatal ease. Stout men are doomed to the obscurer paths. You may quote +Napoleon as a contrary instance. I maintain positively that his day was +over, his sun was eclipsed, when his valet had to loosen the buckles of +his waistcoat and breech. Now, what do you say?' + +'I say,' Weisspriess replied, 'that if there's a further depreciation of +the paper currency, we shall none of us have much chance of digesting or +assimilating either--if I know at all what those processes mean.' + +'Our good Lombard cow is not half squeezed enough,' observed the major, +confidentially in tone. 'When she makes a noise--quick! the pail at +her udders and work away; that's my advice. What's the verse?--our +Zwitterwitz's, I mean; the Viennese poet:-- + + “Her milk is good-the Lombard cow; + Let her be noisy when she pleases + But if she kicks the pail, I vow, + We'll make her used to sharper squeezes: + We'll write her mighty deeds in CHEESES: + (That is, if she yields milk enow).” + +'Capital! capital!' the major applauded his quotation, and went on to +speak of 'that Zwitterwitz' as having served in a border regiment, after +creating certain Court scandal, and of his carrying off a Wallach lady +from her lord and selling her to a Turk, and turning Turk himself and +keeping a harem. Five years later he reappeared in Vienna with a volume +of what he called 'Black Eagle Poems,' and regained possession of his +barony. 'So far, so good,' said the major; 'but when he applied for his +old commission in the army--that was rather too cool.' + +Weisspriess muttered intelligibly, 'I've heard the remark, that you +can't listen to a man five minutes without getting something out of +him.' + +'I don't know; it may be,' said the major, imagining that Weisspriess +demanded some stronger flavours of gossip in his talk. 'There's no stir +in these valleys. They arrested, somewhere close on Trent yesterday +afternoon, a fellow calling himself Beppo, the servant of an Italian +woman--a dancer, I fancy. They're on the lookout for her too, I'm told; +though what sort of capers she can be cutting in Tyrol, I can't even +guess.' + +The major's car was journeying leisurely toward Cles. 'Whip that brute!' +Weisspriess sang out to the driver, and begging the major's pardon, +requested to know whither he was bound. The major informed him that +he hoped to sup in Trent. 'Good heaven! not at this pace,' Weisspriess +shouted. But the pace was barely accelerated, and he concealed his +reasons for invoking speed. They were late in arriving at Trent, where +Weisspriess cast eye on the imprisoned wretch, who declared piteously +that he was the trusted and innocent servant of the Signorina Vittoria, +and had been visiting all the castles of Meran in search of her. The +captain's man Wilhelm had been the one to pounce on poor Beppo while the +latter was wandering disconsolately. Leaving him to howl, Weisspriess +procured the loan of a horse from a colonel of cavalry at the Buon +Consiglio barracks, and mounted an hour before dawn, followed by +Wilhelm. He reached Cles in time to learn that Vittoria and her party +had passed through it a little in advance of him. Breakfasting there, he +enjoyed the first truly calm cigar of many days. Gendarmes whom he had +met near the place came in at his heels. They said that the party would +positively be arrested, or not allowed to cross the Monte Pallade. +The passes to Meran and Botzen, and the road to Trent, were strictly +guarded. Weisspriess hurried them forward with particular orders that +they should take into custody the whole of the party, excepting the +lady; her, if arrested with the others, they were to release: her maid +and the three men were to be marched back to Cles, and there kept fast. + +The game was now his own: he surveyed its pretty intricate moves as on +a map. The character of Herr Johannes he entirely discarded: an Imperial +officer in his uniform, sword in belt, could scarcely continue that +meek performance. 'But I may admire music, and entreat her to give me +a particular note, if she has it,' said the captain, hanging in +contemplation over a coming scene, like a quivering hawk about to close +its wings. His heart beat thick; which astonished him: hitherto it had +never made that sort of movement. + +From Cles he despatched a letter to the fair chatelaine at Meran, +telling her that by dainty and skilful management of the paces, he was +bringing on the intractable heroine of the Fifteenth, and was to +be expected in about two or three days. The letter was entrusted to +Wilhelm, who took the borrowed horse back to Trent. + +Weisspriess was on the mule-track a mile above the last village +ascending to the pass, when he observed the party of prisoners, and +climbed up into covert. As they went by he discerned but one person in +female garments; the necessity to crouch for obscurity prevented him +from examining them separately. He counted three men and beheld one of +them between gendarmes. 'That must be my villain,' he said. + +It was clear that Vittoria had chosen to go forward alone. The captain +praised her spirit, and now pushed ahead with hunter's strides. He +passed an inn, closed and tenantless: behind him lay the Val di Non; +in front the darker valley of the Adige: where was the prey? A storm of +rage set in upon him with the fear that he had been befooled. He lit a +cigar, to assume ease of aspect, whatever the circumstances might +be, and gain some inward serenity by the outer reflection of it--not +altogether without success. 'My lady must be a doughty walker,' he +thought; 'at this rate she will be in the Ultenthal before sunset.' A +wooded height ranged on his left as he descended rapidly. Coming to a +roll of grass dotted with grey rock, he climbed it, and mounting one +of the boulders, beheld at a distance of half-a-dozen stone-throws +downward, the figure of a woman holding her hand cup-shape to a wayside +fall of water. The path by which she was going rounded the height he +stood on. He sprang over the rocks, catching up his clattering steel +scabbard; and plunging through tinted leafage and green underwood, +steadied his heels on a sloping bank, and came down on the path with +stones and earth and brambles, in time to appear as a seated pedestrian +when Vittoria turned the bend of the mountain way. + +Gracefully withdrawing the cigar from his mouth, and touching his breast +with turned-in fingers, he accosted her with a comical operatic effort +at her high notes + + 'Italia!' + +She gathered her arms on her bosom and looked swiftly round: then at the +apparition of her enemy. + +It is but an ironical form of respect that you offer to the prey you +have been hotly chasing and have caught. Weisspriess conceived that +he had good reasons for addressing her in the tone best suited to his +character: he spoke with a ridiculous mincing suavity: + +'My pretty sweet! are you not tired? We have not seen one another for +days! Can you have forgotten the enthusiastic Herr Johannes? You have +been in pleasant company, no doubt; but I have been all--all alone. +Think of that! What an exceedingly fortunate chance this is! I was +smoking dolefully, and imagining anything but such a rapture.--No, no, +mademoiselle, be mannerly.' The captain blocked her passage. 'You must +not leave me while I am speaking. A good governess would have taught you +that in the nursery. I am afraid you had an inattentive governess, who +did not impress upon you the duty of recognizing friends when you meet +them! Ha! you were educated in England, I have heard. Shake hands. It +is our custom--I think a better one--to kiss on the right cheek and the +left, but we will shake hands.' + +'In God's name, sir, let me go on,' Vittoria could just gather voice to +utter. + +'But,' cried the delighted captain, 'you address me in the tones of a +basso profundo! It is absurd. Do you suppose that I am to be deceived +by your artifice?--rogue that you are! Don't I know you are a woman? a +sweet, an ecstatic, a darling little woman!' + +He laughed. She shivered to hear the solitary echoes. There was +sunlight on the farthest Adige walls, but damp shade already filled the +East-facing hollows. + +'I beg you very earnestly, to let me go on,' said Vittoria. + +'With equal earnestness, I beg you to let me accompany you,' he replied. +'I mean no offence, mademoiselle; but I have sworn that I and no one but +I shall conduct you to the Castle of Sonnenberg, where you will meet the +Lenkenstein ladies, with whom I have the honour to be acquainted. You +see, you have nothing to fear if you play no foolish pranks, like a +kicking filly in the pasture.' + +'If it is your pleasure,' she said gravely; but he obtruded the bow of +an arm. She drew back. Her first blank despair at sight of the trap she +had fallen into, was clearing before her natural high courage. + +'My little lady! my precious prima donna! do you refuse the most +trifling aid from me? It's because I'm a German.' + +'There are many noble gentlemen who are Germans,' said Vittoria. + +'It 's because I'm a German; I know it is. But, don't you see, Germany +invades Italy, and keeps hold of her? Providence decrees it so--ask the +priests! You are a delicious Italian damsel, and you will take the arm +of a German.' + +Vittoria raised her face. 'Do you mean that I am your prisoner?' + +'You did not look braver at La Scala'; the captain bowed to her. + +'Ah, I forgot,' said she; 'you saw me there. If, signore, you will do me +the favour to conduct me to the nearest inn, I will sing to you.' + +'It is precisely my desire, signorina. + +You are not married to that man Guidascarpi, I presume? No, no: you are +merely his... friend. May I have the felicity of hearing you call me +your friend? Why, you tremble! are you afraid of me?' + +'To tell the truth, you talk too much to please me,' said Vittoria. + +The captain praised her frankness, and he liked it. The trembling of her +frame still fascinated his eyes, but her courage and the absence of all +womanly play and cowering about her manner impressed him seriously. He +stood looking at her, biting his moustache, and trying to provoke her to +smile. + +'Conduct you to the nearest inn; yes,' he said, as if musing. 'To +the nearest inn, where you will sing to me; sing to me. It is not an +objectionable scheme. The inns will not be choice: but the society will +be exquisite. Say first, I am your sworn cavalier?' + +'It does not become me to say that,' she replied, feigning a demure +sincerity, on the verge of her patience. + +'You allow me to say it?' + +She gave him a look of fire and passed him; whereat, following her, +he clapped hands, and affected to regard the movement as part of an +operatic scena. 'It is now time to draw your dagger,' he said. 'You have +one, I'm certain.' + +'Anything but touch me!' cried Vittoria, turning on him. 'I know that I +am safe. You shall teaze me, if it amuses you.' + +'Am I not, now, the object of your detestation?' + +'You are near being so.' + +'You see! You put on no disguise; why should I?' + +This remark struck her with force. + +'My temper is foolish,' she said softly. 'I have always been used to +kindness.' + +He vowed that she had no comprehension of kindness; otherwise would she +continue defiant of him? She denied that she was defiant: upon which he +accused the hand in her bosom of clutching a dagger. She cast the dagger +at his feet. It was nobly done, and he was not insensible to the courage +and inspiration of the act; for it checked a little example of a trial +of strength that he had thought of exhibiting to an armed damsel. + +'Shall I pick it up for you?' he said. + +'You will oblige me,' was her answer; but she could not control a +convulsion of her underlip that her defensive instinct told her was best +hidden. + +'Of course, you know you are safe,' he repeated her previous words, +while examining the silver handle of the dagger. 'Safe? certainly! +Here is C. A. to V.... A. neatly engraved: a gift; so that the young +gentleman may be sure the young lady will defend herself from lions +and tigers and wild boars, if ever she goes through forests and over +mountain passes. I will not obtrude my curiosity, but who is V.... A.?' + +The dagger was Carlo's gift to her; the engraver, by singular +misadventure, had put a capital letter for the concluding letter of her +name instead of little a; she remembered the blush on Carlo's face when +she had drawn his attention to the error, and her own blush when she had +guessed its meaning. + +'It spells my name,' she said. + +'Your assumed name of Vittoria. And who is C. A.?' + +'Those are the initials of Count Carlo Ammiani.' + +'Another lover?' + +'He is my sole lover. He is my betrothed. Oh, good God!' she threw her +eyes up to heaven; 'how long am I to endure the torture of this man in +my pathway? Go, sir, or let me go on. You are intolerable. It 's the +spirit of a tiger. I have no fear of you.' + +'Nay, nay,' said Weisspriess, 'I asked the question because I am under +an obligation to run Count Carlo Ammiani through the body, and felt +at once that I should regret the necessity. As to your not fearing me, +really, far from wishing to hurt you--' + +Vittoria had caught sight of a white face framed in the autumnal forest +above her head. So keen was the glad expression of her face, that +Weisspriess looked up. + +'Come, Angelo, come to me;' she said confidently. + +Weisspriess plucked his sword out, and called to him imperiously to +descend. + +Beckoned downward by white hand and flashing blade, Angelo steadied his +feet and hands among drooping chestnut boughs, and bounded to Vittoria's +side. + +'Now march on,' Weisspriess waved his sword; 'you are my prisoners.' + +'You,' retorted Angelo; 'I know you; you are a man marked out for one of +us. I bid you turn back, if you care for your body's safety.' + +'Angelo Guidascarpi, I also know you. Assassin! you double murderer! +Defy me, and I slay you in the sight of your paramour.' + +'Captain Weisspriess, what you have spoken merits death. I implore of my +Maker that I may not have to kill you.' + +'Fool! you are unarmed.' + +Angelo took his stilet in his fist. + +'I have warned you, Captain Weisspriess. Here I stand. I dare you to +advance.' + +'You pronounce my name abominably,' said the captain, dropping his +sword's point. 'If you think of resisting me, let us have no women +looking on.' He waved his left hand at Vittoria. + +Angelo urged her to go. 'Step on for our Carlo's sake.' But it was +asking too much of her. + +'Can you fight this man?' she asked. + +'I can fight him and kill him.' + +'I will not step on,' she said. 'Must you fight him?' + +'There is no choice.' Vittoria walked to a distance at once. + +Angelo directed the captain's eyes to where, lower in the pass, there +was a level plot of meadow. + +Weisspriess nodded. 'The odds are in my favour, so you shall choose the +ground.' + +All three went silently to the meadow. + +It was a circle of green on a projecting shoulder of the mountain, +bounded by woods that sank toward the now shadowy South-flowing +Adige vale, whose Western heights were gathering red colour above a +strongly-marked brown line. Vittoria stood at the border of the wood, +leaving the two men to their work. She knew when speech was useless. + +Captain Weisspriess paced behind Angelo until the latter stopped short, +saying, 'Here!' + +'Wherever you please,' Weisspriess responded. 'The ground is of more +importance to you than to me.' + +They faced mutually; one felt the point of his stilet, the other the +temper of his sword. + +'Killing you, Angelo Guidascarpi, is the killing of a dog. But there +are such things as mad dogs. This is not a duel. It is a righteous +execution, since you force me to it: I shall deserve your thanks for +saving you from the hangman. I think you have heard that I can use my +weapon. There's death on this point for you. Make your peace with your +Maker.' + +Weisspriess spoke sternly. He delayed the lifting of his sword that the +bloody soul might pray. + +Angelo said, 'You are a good soldier: you are a bad priest. Come on.' + +A nod of magnanimous resignation to the duties of his office was the +captain's signal of readiness. He knew exactly the method of fighting +which Angelo must adopt, and he saw that his adversary was supple, and +sinewy, and very keen of eye. But, what can well compensate for even one +additional inch of steel? A superior weapon wielded by a trained wrist +in perfect coolness means victory, by every reasonable reckoning. In the +present instance, it meant nothing other than an execution, as he had +said. His contemplation of his own actual share in the performance +was nevertheless unpleasant; and it was but half willingly that he +straightened out his sword and then doubled his arm. He lessened the +odds in his favour considerably by his too accurate estimation of them. +He was also a little unmanned by the thought that a woman was to see him +using his advantage; but she stood firm in her distant corner, refusing +to be waved out of sight. Weisspriess had again to assure himself that +it was not a duel, but the enforced execution of a criminal who would +not surrender, and who was in his way. Fronting a creature that would +vainly assail him, and temporarily escape impalement by bounding and +springing, dodging and backing, now here now there, like a dangling +bob-cherry, his military gorge rose with a sickness of disgust. He had +to remember as vividly as he could realize it, that this man's life +was forfeited, and that the slaughter of him was a worthy service to +Countess Anna; also, that there were present reasons for desiring to be +quit of him. He gave Angelo two thrusts, and bled him. The skill which +warded off the more vicious one aroused his admiration. + +'Pardon my blundering,' he said; 'I have never engaged a saltimbanque +before.' + +They recommenced. Weisspriess began to weigh the sagacity of his +opponent's choice of open ground, where he could lengthen the discourse +of steel by retreating and retreating, and swinging easily to right or +to left. In the narrow track the sword would have transfixed him after +a single feint. He was amused. Much of the cat was in his combative +nature. An idea of disabling or dismembering Angelo, and forwarding +him to Meran, caused him to trifle further with the edge of the blade. +Angelo took a cut, and turned it on his arm; free of the deadly point, +he rushed in and delivered a stab; but Weisspriess saved his breast. +Quick, they resumed their former positions. + +'I am really so unused to this game!' said Weisspriess, apologetically. + +He was pale: his unsteady breathing, and a deflection of his dripping +sword-wrist, belied his coolness. Angelo plunged full on him, dropped, +and again reached his right arm; they hung, getting blood for blood, +with blazing interpenetrating eyes; a ghastly work of dark hands at half +lock thrusting, and savage eyes reading the fiery pages of the book of +hell. At last the Austrian got loose from the lock and hurled him off. + +'That bout was hotter,' he remarked; and kept his sword-point out on the +whole length of the arm: he would have scorned another for so miserable +a form either of attack or defence. + +Vittoria beheld Angelo circling round the point, which met him +everywhere; like the minute hand of a clock about to sound his hour, she +thought. + +He let fall both his arms, as if beaten, which brought on the attack: by +sheer evasion he got away from the sword's lunge, and essayed a second +trial of the bite of steel at close quarters; but the Austrian backed +and kept him to the point, darting short alluring thrusts, thinking +to tempt him on, or to wind him, and then to have him. Weisspriess was +chilled by a more curious revulsion from this sort of engagement than he +at first experienced. He had become nervously incapable of those proper +niceties of sword-play which, without any indecent hacking or maiming, +should have stretched Angelo, neatly slain, on the mat of green, before +he had a chance. Even now the sight of the man was distressing to an +honourable duellist. Angelo was scored with blood-marks. Feeling that he +dared not offer another chance to a fellow so desperately close-dealing, +Weisspriess thrust fiercely, but delayed his fatal stroke. Angelo +stooped and pulled up a handful of grass and soft earth in his left +hand. + +'We have been longer about it than I expected,' said Weisspriess. + +Angelo tightened his fingers about the stringy grasstuft; he stood like +a dreamer, leaning over to the sword; suddenly he sprang on it, received +the point right in his side, sprang on it again, and seized it in his +hand, and tossed it up, and threw it square out in time to burst within +guard and strike his stilet below the Austrian's collar-bone. The blade +took a glut of blood, as when the wolf tears quick at dripping flesh. It +was at a moment when Weisspriess was courteously bantering him with the +question whether he was ready, meaning that the affirmative should open +the gates of death to him. + +The stilet struck thrice. Weisspriess tottered, and hung his jaw like a +man at a spectre: amazement was on his features. + +'Remember Broncini and young Branciani!' + +Angelo spoke no other words throughout the combat. + +Weisspriess threw himself forward on a feeble lunge of his sword, and +let the point sink in the ground, as a palsied cripple supports his +frame, swayed, and called to Angelo to come on, and try another +stroke, another--one more! He fell in a lump: his look of amazement was +surmounted by a strong frown. + +His enemy was hanging above him panting out of wide nostrils, like a +hunter's horse above the long-tongued quarry, when Vittoria came to +them. + +She reached her strength to the wounded man to turn his face to heaven. + +He moaned, 'Finish me'; and, as he lay with his back to earth, +'Good-evening to the old army!' + +A vision of leaping tumbrils, and long marching columns about to deploy, +passed before his eyelids: he thought he had fallen on the battle-field, +and heard a drum beat furiously in the back of his head; and on streamed +the cavalry, wonderfully caught away to such a distance that the figures +were all diminutive, and the regimental colours swam in smoke, and the +enemy danced a plume here and there out of the sea, while his mother and +a forgotten Viennese girl gazed at him with exactly the same unfamiliar +countenance, and refused to hear that they were unintelligible in +the roaring of guns and floods and hurrahs, and the thumping of the +tremendous big drum behind his head--'somewhere in the middle of the +earth': he tried to explain the locality of that terrible drumming noise +to them, and Vittoria conceived him to be delirious; but he knew that he +was sensible; he knew her and Angelo and the mountain-pass, and that he +had a cigar-case in his pocket worked in embroidery of crimson, blue, +and gold, by the hands of Countess Anna. He said distinctly that he +desired the cigar-case to be delivered to Countess Anna at the Castle of +Sonnenberg, and rejoiced on being assured that his wish was comprehended +and should be fulfilled; but the marvel was, that his mother should +still refuse to give him wine, and suppose him to be a boy: and when +he was so thirsty and dry-lipped that though Mina was bending over him, +just fresh from Mariazell, he had not the heart to kiss her or lift an +arm to her!--His horse was off with him-whither?--He was going down with +a company of infantry in the Gulf of Venice: cards were in his hands, +visible, though he could not feel them, and as the vessel settled for +the black plunge, the cards flushed all honours, and his mother shook +her head at him: he sank, and heard Mina sighing all the length of the +water to the bottom, which grated and gave him two horrid shocks of +pain: and he cried for a doctor, and admitted that his horse had managed +to throw him; but wine was the cure, brandy was the cure, or water, +water! Water was sprinkled on his forehead and put to his lips. + +He thanked Vittoria by name, and imagined himself that General, serving +under old Wurmser, of whom the tale is told that being shot and lying +grievously wounded on the harsh Rivoli ground, he obtained the help of +a French officer in as bad case as himself, to moisten his black tongue +and write a short testamentary document with his blood, and for a way of +returning thanks to the Frenchman, he put down among others, the name +of his friendly enemy's widow; whereupon both resigned their hearts to +death; but the Austrian survived to find the sad widow and espouse her. + +His mutterings were full of gratitude, showing a vividly transient +impression to what was about him, that vanished in a narrow-headed +flight through clouds into lands of memory. It pained him, he said, that +he could not offer her marriage; but he requested that when his chin +was shaved his moustache should be brushed up out of the way of the +clippers, for he and all his family were conspicuous for the immense +amount of life which they had in them, and his father had lain +six-and-thirty hours bleeding on the field of Wagram, and had yet +survived to beget a race as hearty as himself:--'Old Austria! thou grand +old Austria!' + +The smile was proud, though faint, which accompanied the apostrophe, +addressed either to his country or to his father's personification +of it; it was inexpressibly pathetic to Vittoria, who understood his +'Oesterreich,' and saw the weak and helpless bleeding man, with his +eyeballs working under the lids, and the palms of his hands stretched +out open-weak as a corpse, but conquering death. + +The arrival of Jacopo and Johann furnished help to carry him onward to +the nearest place of shelter. Angelo would not quit her side until he +had given money and directions to both the trembling fellows, together +with his name, that they might declare the author of the deed at once +if questioned. He then bowed to Vittoria slightly and fled. They did not +speak. + +The last sunbeams burned full crimson on the heights of the Adige +mountains as Vittoria followed the two pale men who bore the wounded +officer between them at a slow pace for the nearest village in the +descent of the pass. + +Angelo watched them out of sight. The far-off red rocks spun round his +eyeballs; the meadow was a whirling thread of green; the brown earth +heaved up to him. He felt that he was diving, and had the thought that +there was but water enough to moisten his red hands when his senses left +him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +A NEW ORDEAL + +The old city of Meran faces Southward to the yellow hills of Italy, +across a broad vale, between two mountain-walls and torrent-waters. With +one hand it takes the bounding green Passeyr, and with the other the +brown-rolling Adige, and plunges them together in roaring foam under +the shadow of the Western wall. It stands on the spur of a lower central +eminence crowned by a grey castle, and the sun has it from every +aspect. The shape of a swan in water may describe its position, for the +Vintschgau and the stony Passeyrthal make a strong curve on two sides +as they descend upon it with their rivers, and the bosom of the city +projects, while the head appears bending gracefully backward. Many +castles are in view of it; the loud and tameless Passeyr girdles it with +an emerald cincture; there is a sea of arched vineyard foliage at his +feet. + +Vittoria reached the Castle of Sonnenberg about noon, and found +empty courts and open doors. She sat in the hall like a supplicant, +disregarded by the German domestics, who beheld a travel-stained +humble-faced young Italian woman, and supposed that their duty was done +in permitting her to rest; but the duchess's maid Aennchen happening to +come by, questioned her in moderately intelligible Italian, and hearing +her name gave a cry, and said that all the company were out hunting, +shooting, and riding, in the vale below or the mountain above. “Ah, +dearest lady, what a fright we have all been in about you! Signora +Piaveni has not slept a wink, and the English gentleman has made great +excursions every day to find you. This morning the soldier Wilhelm +arrived with news that his master was bringing you on.” + +Vittoria heard that Laura and her sister and the duchess had gone down +to Meran. Countess Lena von Lenkenstein was riding to see her betrothed +shoot on a neighbouring estate. Countess Anna had disappeared early, +none knew where. Both these ladies, and their sister-in-law, were in +mourning for the terrible death of their brother, Count Paul Aennchen +repeated what she knew of the tale concerning him. + +The desire to see Laura first, and be embraced and counselled by her, +and lie awhile in her arms to get a breath of home, made Vittoria refuse +to go up to her chamber, and notwithstanding Aennchen's persuasions, she +left the castle, and went out and sat in the shaded cart-track. On the +winding ascent she saw a lady in a black riding habit, leading her horse +and talking to a soldier, who seemed to be receiving orders from her, +and presently saluted and turned his steps downward. The lady came on, +and passed her without a glance. After entering the courtyard, where +she left her horse, she reappeared, and stood hesitating, but came up to +Vittoria and said bluntly, in Italian: + +“Are you the signorina Campa, or Belloni, who is expected here?” + +The Austrian character and colouring of her features told Vittoria that +this must be the Countess Anna or her sister. + +“I think I have been expected,” she replied. + +“You come alone?” + +“I am alone.” + +“I am Countess Anna von Lenkenstein; one of the guests of the castle.” + +“My message is to the Countess Anna.” + +“You have a message?” + +Vittoria lifted the embroidered cigar-case. Countess Anna snatched it +from her hand. + +“What does this mean? Is it insolence? Have the kindness, if you please, +not to address me in enigmas. Do you”--Anna was deadly pale as she +turned the cigarcase from side to side--“do you imagine that I smoke, +'par hasard?'” She tried to laugh off her intemperate manner of speech; +the laugh broke at sight of a blood-mark on one corner of the case; she +started and said earnestly, “I beg you to let me hear what the meaning +of this may be?” + +“He lies in the Ultenthal, wounded; and his wish was that I should +deliver it to you.” Vittoria spoke as gently as the harsh tidings would +allow. + +“Wounded? My God! my God!” Anna cried in her own language. “Wounded?-in +the breast, then! He carried it in his breast. Wounded by what? by +what?” + +“I can tell you no more.” + +“Wounded by whom?” + +“It was an honourable duel.” + +“Are you afraid to tell me he has been assassinated?” + +“It was an honourable duel.” + +“None could match him with the sword.” + +“His enemy had nothing but a dagger.” + +“Who was his enemy?” + +“It is no secret, but I must leave him to say.” + +“You were a witness of the fight?” + +“I saw it all.” + +“The man was one of your party! + +“Ah!” exclaimed Vittoria, “lose no time with me, Countess Anna, go to +him at once, for though he lived when I left him, he was bleeding; I +cannot say that he was not dying, and he has not a friend near.” + +Anna murmured like one overborne by calamity. “My brother struck down +one day--he the next!” She covered her face a moment, and unclosed it to +explain that she wept for her brother, who had been murdered, stabbed in +Bologna. + +“Was it Count Ammiani who did this?” she asked passionately. + +Vittoria shook her head; she was divining a dreadful thing in relation +to the death of Count Paul. + +“It was not?” said Anna. “They had a misunderstanding, I know. But you +tell me the man fought with a dagger. It could not be Count Ammiani. +The dagger is an assassin's weapon, and there are men of honour in Italy +still.” + +She called to a servant in the castle-yard, and sent him down with +orders to stop the soldier Wilhelm. + +“We heard this morning that you were coming, and we thought it curious,” + she observed; and called again for her horse to be saddled. “How far is +this place where he is lying? I have no knowledge of the Ultenthal. +Has he a doctor attending him? When was he wounded? It is but common +humanity to see that he is attended by an efficient doctor. My nerves +are unstrung by the recent blow to our family; that is why--Oh, my +father! my holy father!” she turned to a grey priest's head that was +rising up the ascent, “I thank God for you! Lena is away riding; she +weeps constantly when she is within four walls. Come in and give me +tears, if you can; I am half mad for the want of them. Tears first; +teach me patience after.” + +The old priest fanned his face with his curled hat, and raised one hand +as he uttered a gentle chiding in reproof of curbless human sorrow. Anna +said to Vittoria, coldly, “I thank you for your message:” she walked +into the castle by his side, and said to him there: “The woman you +saw outside has a guilty conscience. You will spend your time more +profitably with her than with me. I am past all religious duties at this +moment. You know, father, that I can open my heart. Probe this Italian +woman; search her through and through. I believe her to be blood-stained +and abominable. She hates us. She has sworn an oath against us. She is +malignant.” + +It was not long before Anna issued forth and rode down to the vale. The +priest beckoned to Vittoria from the gates. He really supposed her to +have come to him with a burdened spirit. + +“My daughter,” he addressed her. The chapter on human error was opened: +“We are all of one family--all of us erring children--all of us bound +to abnegate hatred: by love alone are we saved. Behold the Image of +Love--the Virgin and Child. Alas! and has it been visible to man these +more than eighteen hundred years, and humankind are still blind to it? +Are their ways the ways of comfort and blessedness? Their ways are the +ways of blood; paths to eternal misery among howling fiends. Why have +they not chosen the sweet ways of peace, which are strewn with flowers, +which flow with milk?”--The priest spread his hand open for Vittoria's, +which she gave to his keeping, and he enclosed it softly, smoothing it +with his palms, and retaining it as a worldly oyster between spiritual +shells. “Why, my daughter, why, but because we do not bow to that Image +daily, nightly, hourly, momently! We do not worship it that its seed +may be sown in us. We do not cling to it, that in return it may cling to +us.” + +He spoke with that sensuous resource of rich feeling which the +contemplation of the Image does inspire. And Vittoria was not led +reluctantly into the oratory of the castle to pray with him; but she +refused to confess. Thereupon followed a soft discussion that was as +near being acerb as nails are near velvet paws. + +Vittoria perceived his drift, and also the dear good heart of the old +man, who meant no harm to her, and believed that he was making use of +his professional weapons for her ultimate good. The inquisitions and +the kindness went musically together; she responded to the kindness, but +rebutted the inquisitions; at which he permitted a shade of discontent +to traverse his features, and asked her with immense tenderness whether +she had not much on her mind; she expressing melodious gratitude for +his endeavours to give her comfort. He could not forbear directing an +admonishment to her stubborn spirit, and was obliged, for the sake +of impressiveness, to speak it harshly; until he saw, that without +sweetness of manner and unction of speech, he left her untouched; so he +was driven back to the form of address better suited to his nature and +habits; the end of which was that both were cooing. + +Vittoria was ashamed to tell herself how much she liked him and his +ghostly brethren, whose preaching was always of peace, while the world +was full of lurid hatred, strife, and division. She begged the baffled +old man to keep her hand in his. He talked in Latinized Italian, +and only appeared to miss the exact meaning of her replies when his +examination of the state of her soul was resumed. They sat in the soft +colour of the consecrated place like two who were shut away from earth. +Often he thought that her tears were about to start and bring her low; +for she sighed heavily; at the mere indication of the displacement of +her hand, she looked at him eagerly, as if entreating him not to let it +drop. + +“You are a German, father?” she said. + +“I am of German birth, my daughter.” + +“That makes it better. Remain beside me. The silence is sweet music.” + +The silence was broken at intervals by his murmur of a call for +patience! patience! + +This strange scene concluded with the entry of the duchess, who retired +partly as soon as she saw them. Vittoria smiled to the old man, and left +him: the duchess gave her a hushed welcome, and took her place. Vittoria +was soon in Laura's arms, where, after a storm of grief, she related the +events of the journey following her flight from Milan. Laura interrupted +her but once to exclaim, “Angelo Guidascarpi!” Vittoria then heard from +her briefly that Milan was quiet, Carlo Ammiani in prison. It had been +for tidings of her lover that she had hastened over the mountains to +Meran. She craved for all that could be told of him, but Laura repeated, +as in a stupefaction, “Angelo Guidascarpi!” She answered Vittoria's +question by saying, “You could not have had so fatal a companion.” + +“I could not have had so devoted a protector.” + +“There is such a thing as an evil star. We are all under it at present, +to some degree; but he has been under it from his birth. My Sandra, my +beloved, I think I have pardoned you, if I ever pardon anyone! I doubt +it; but it is certain that I love you. You have seen Countess Anna, or I +would have told you to rest and get over your fatigue. The Lenkensteins +are here--my poor sister among them. You must show yourself. I was +provident enough to call at your mother's for a box of your clothes +before I ran out of wretched Milan.” + +Further, the signora stated that Carlo might have to remain in prison. +She made no attempt to give dark or fair colour to the misery of the +situation; telling Vittoria to lie on her bed and sleep, if sleep could +be persuaded to visit her, she went out to consult with the duchess. +Vittoria lay like a dead body on the bed, counting the throbs of her +heart. It helped her to fall into a state of insensibility. When she +awoke, the room was dark; she felt that some one had put a silken +cushion across her limbs. The noise of a storm traversing the vale rang +through the castle, and in the desolation of her soul, that stealthy act +of kindness wrought in her till she almost fashioned a vow upon her lips +that she would leave the world to toss its wrecks, and dedicate her life +to God. + +For, O heaven! of what avail is human effort? She thought of the Chief, +whose life was stainless, but who stood proscribed because his aim was +too high to be attained within compass of a mortal's years. His error +seemed that he had ever aimed at all. He seemed less wise than the +old priest of the oratory. She could not disentangle him from her own +profound humiliation and sense of fallen power. Her lover's imprisonment +accused her of some monstrous culpability, which she felt unrepentingly, +not as we feel a truth, but as we submit to a terrible force of +pressure. + +The morning light made her realize Carlo's fate, to whom it would +penetrate through a hideous barred loophole--a defaced and dreadful +beam. She asked herself why she had fled from Milan. It must have been +some cowardly instinct that had prompted her to fly. “Coward, coward! +thing of vanity! you, a mere woman!” she cried out, and succeeded +in despising herself sufficiently to think it possible that she had +deserved to forfeit her lover's esteem. + +It was still early when the duchess's maid came to her, bringing word +that her mistress would be glad to visit her. From the duchess Vittoria +heard of the charge against Angelo. Respecting Captain Weisspriess, +Amalia said that she had perceived his object in wishing to bring the +great cantatrice to the castle; and that it was a well-devised audacious +scheme to subdue Countess Anna:--“We Austrians also can be jealous. +The difference between us is, that it makes us tender, and you Italians +savage.” She asked pointedly for an affirmative, that Vittoria was +glad to reply with, when she said: “Captain Weisspriess was perfectly +respectful to you?” She spoke comforting words of Carlo Ammiani, whom +she hoped to see released as soon as the excitement had subsided. +The chief comfort she gave was by saying that he had been originally +arrested in mistake for his cousin Angelo. + +“I will confide what is now my difficulty here frankly to you,” said the +duchess. “The Lenkensteins are my guests; I thought it better to bring +them here. Angelo Guidascarpi has slain their brother--a base deed! It +does not affect you in my eyes; you can understand that in theirs it +does. Your being present--Laura has told me everything--at the duel, +or fight, between that young man and Captain Weisspriess, will make you +appear as his accomplice--at least, to Anna it will; she is the most +unreasoning, the most implacable of women. She returned from the +Ultenthal last night, and goes there this morning, which is a sign +that Captain Weisspriess lives. I should be sorry if we lost so good +an officer. As she is going to take Father Bernardus with her, it is +possible that the wound is serious. Do you know you have mystified +the worthy man exceedingly? What tempted you to inform him that your +conscience was heavily burdened, at the same time that you refused to +confess?” + +“Surely he has been deluded about me,” said Vittoria. + +“I do but tell you his state of mind in regard to you,” the duchess +pursued. “Under all the circumstances, this is what I have to ask: you +are my Laura's guest, therefore the guest of my heart. There is another +one here, an Englishman, a Mr. Powys; and also Lieutenant Pierson, whom, +naughty rebel that you are, you have been the means of bringing into +disgrace; naturally you would wish to see them: but my request is, that +you should keep to these rooms for two or three days: the Lenkensteins +will then be gone. They can hardly reproach me for retaining an invalid. +If you go down among them, it will be a cruel meeting.” + +Vittoria thankfully consented to the arrangement. They agreed to act in +accordance with it. + +The signora was a late riser. The duchess had come on a second visit to +Vittoria when Laura joined them, and hearing of the arrangement, spurned +the notion of playing craven before the Lenkensteins, who, she said, +might think as it pleased them to think, but were never to suppose that +there was any fear of confronting them. “And now, at this very moment, +when they have their triumph, and are laughing over Viennese squibs at +her, she has an idea of hiding her head--she hangs out the white flag! +It can't be. We go or we stay; but if we stay, the truth is that we are +too poor to allow our enemies to think poorly of us. You, Amalia, are +victorious, and you may snap your fingers at opinion. It is a luxury +we cannot afford. Besides, I wish her to see my sister and make +acquaintance with the Austrianized-Italian--such a wonder as is nowhere +to be seen out of the Serabiglione and in the Lenkenstein family. +Marriage is, indeed, a tremendous transformation. Bianca was once +declared to be very like me.” + +The brow-beaten duchess replied to the outburst that she had considered +it right to propose the scheme for Vittoria's seclusion on account of +the Guidascarpi. + +“Even if that were a good reason, there are better on the other side,” + said Laura; adding, with many little backward tosses of the head, “That +story has to be related in full before I denounce Angelo and Rinaldo.” + +“It cannot be denied that they are assassins,” returned the duchess. + +“It cannot be denied that they have killed one man or more. For you, +Justice drops from the bough: we have to climb and risk our necks for +it. Angelo stood to defend my darling here. Shall she be ashamed of +him?” + +“You will never persuade me to tolerate assassination,” said the duchess +colouring. + +“Never, never; I shall never persuade you; never persuade--never attempt +to persuade any foreigner that we can be driven to extremes where their +laws do not apply to us--are not good for us--goad a subjected people +till their madness is pardonable. Nor shall I dream of persuading you +that Angelo did right in defending her from that man.” + +“I maintain that there are laws applicable to all human creatures,” said +the duchess. “You astonish me when you speak compassionately of such a +criminal.” + +“No; not of such a criminal, of such an unfortunate youth, and my +countryman, when every hand is turned against him, and all tongues are +reviling him. But let Angelo pass; I pray to heaven he may escape. All +who are worth anything in our country are strained in every fibre, +and it's my trick to be half in love with anyone of them when he is +persecuted. I fancy he is worth more than the others, and is simply +luckless. You must make allowances for us, Amalia--pity captive Judah!” + +“I think, my Laura, you will never be satisfied till I have ceased to +be Babylonian,” said the duchess, smiling and fondling Vittoria, to whom +she said, “Am I not a complaisant German?” + +Vittoria replied gently, “If they were like you!” + +“Yes, if they were like the duchess,” said Laura, “nothing would be left +for us then but to hate ourselves. Fortunately, we deal with brutes.” + +She was quite pitiless in prompting Vittoria to hasten down, and +marvelled at the evident reluctance in doing this slight duty, of one +whose courage she had recently seen rise so high. Vittoria was equally +amazed by her want of sympathy, which was positive coldness, and her +disregard for the sentiments of her hostess. She dressed hesitatingly, +responding with forlorn eyes to Laura's imperious “Come.” When at last +she was ready to descend, Laura took her dawn, full of battle. The +duchess had gone in advance to keep the peace. + +The ladies of the Lenkenstein family were standing at one window of the +morning room conversing. Apart from them, Merthyr Powys and Wilfrid were +examining one of the cumbrous antique arms ranged along the wall. The +former of these old English friends stepped up to Vittoria quickly and +kissed her forehead. Wilfrid hung behind him; he made a poor show of +indifference, stammered English and reddened; remembering that he was +under observation he recovered wonderfully, and asked, like a patron, +“How is the voice?” which would have been foolish enough to Vittoria's +more attentive hearing. She thanked him for the service he had rendered +her at La Scala. Countess Lena, who looked hard at both, saw nothing to +waken one jealous throb. + +“Bianca, you expressed a wish to give a salute to my eldest daughter,” + said Laura. + +The Countess of Lenkenstein turned her head. “Have I done so?” + +“It is my duty to introduce her,” interposed the duchess, and conducted +the ceremony with a show of its embracing these ladies, neither one of +whom changed her cold gaze. + +Careful that no pause should follow, she commenced chatting to the +ladies and gentlemen alternately, keeping Vittoria under her peculiar +charge. Merthyr alone seconded her efforts to weave the web of converse, +which is an armistice if not a treaty on these occasions. + +“Have you any fresh caricatures from Vienna?” Laura continued to address +her sister. + +“None have reached me,” said the neutral countess. + +“Have they finished laughing?” + +“I cannot tell.” + +“At any rate, we sing still,” Laura smiled to Vittoria. “You shall hear +us after breakfast. I regret excessively that you were not in Milan on +the Fifteenth. We will make amends to you as much as possible. You shall +hear us after breakfast. You will sing to please my sister, Sandra mia, +will you not?” + +Vittoria shook her head. Like those who have become passive, she read +faces--the duchess's imploring looks thrown from time to time to +the Lenkenstein ladies, Wilfrid's oppressed forehead, the resolute +neutrality of the countess--and she was not only incapable of seconding +Laura's aggressive war, but shrank from the involvement and sickened at +the indelicacy. Anna's eyes were fixed on her and filled her with dread +lest she should be resolving to demand a private interview. + +“You refuse to sing?” said Laura; and under her breath, “When I bid you +not, you insist!” + +“Can she possibly sing before she grows accustomed to the air of the +place?” said the duchess. + +Merthyr gravely prescribed a week's diet on grapes antecedent to the +issuing of a note. “Have you never heard what a sustained grape-diet +will do for the bullfinches?” + +“Never,” exclaimed the duchess. “Is that the secret of their German +education?” + +“Apparently, for we cannot raise them to the same pitch of perfection in +England.” + +“I will try it upon mine. Every morning they shall have two big +bunches.” + +“Fresh plucked, and with the first sunlight on them. Be careful of the +rules.” + +Wilfrid remarked, “To make them exhibit the results, you withdraw the +benefit suddenly, of course?” + +“We imitate the general run of Fortune's gifts as much as we can,” said +Merthyr. + +“That is the training for little shrill parrots: we have none in Italy,” + Laura sighed, mock dolefully; “I fear the system would fail among us.” + +“It certainly would not build Como villas,” said Lena. + +Laura cast sharp eyes on her pretty face. + +“It is adapted for caged voices that are required to chirrup to tickle +the ears of boors.” + +Anna said to the duchess: “I hope your little birds are all well this +morning.” + +“Come to them presently with me and let our ears be tickled,” the +duchess laughed in answer; and the spiked dialogue broke, not to revive. + +The duchess had observed the constant direction of Anna's eyes upon +Vittoria during the repast, and looked an interrogation at Anna, who +replied to it firmly. “I must be present,” the duchess whispered. She +drew Vittoria away by the hand, telling Merthyr Powys that it was unkind +to him, but that he should be permitted to claim his fair friend from +noon to the dinner-bell. + +Laura and Bianca were discussing the same subject as the one for which +Anna desired an interview with Vittoria. It was to know the conditions +and cause of the duel between Angelo Guidascarpi and Captain +Weisspriess, and whither Angelo had fled. “In other words, you cry for +vengeance under the name of justice,” Laura phrased it, and put up a +prayer for Angelo's escape. + +The countess rebuked her. “It is men like Angelo who are a scandal to +Italy.” + +“Proclaimed so; but by what title are they judged?” Laura retorted. “I +have heard that his duel with Count Paul was fair, and that the grounds +for it were just. Deplore it; but to condemn an Italian gentleman +without hearing his personal vindication, is infamous; nay, it is +Austrian. I know next to nothing of the story. Countess Ammiani has +assured me that the brothers have a clear defence--not from your Vienna +point of view: Italy and Vienna are different sides of the shield.” + +Vittoria spoke most humbly before Anna; her sole irritating remark was, +that even if she were aware of the direction of Angelo's flight, she +would not betray him. + +The duchess did her utmost to induce her to see that he was a criminal, +outlawed from common charity. “These Italians are really like the Jews,” + she said to Anna; “they appear to me to hold together by a bond of race: +you cannot get them to understand that any act can be infamous when one +of their blood is guilty of it.” + +Anna thought gloomily: “Then, why do you ally yourself to them?” + +The duchess, with Anna, Lena, and Wilfrid, drove to the Ultenthal. +Vittoria and Merthyr had a long afternoon of companionship. She had been +shyer in meeting him than in meeting Wilfrid, whom she had once loved. +The tie between herself and Wilfrid was broken; but Merthyr had remained +true to his passionless affection, which ennobled him to her so that her +heart fluttered, though she was heavily depressed. He relieved her by +letting her perceive that Carlo Ammiani's merits were not unknown to +him. Merthyr smiled at Carlo for abjuring his patrician birth. He said: +“Count Ammiani will be cured in time of those little roughnesses of his +adopted Republicanism. You must help to cure him. Women are never so +foolish as men in these things.” + +When Merthyr had spoken thus, she felt that she might dare to press +his hand. Sharing friendship with this steadfast nature and brotherly +gentleman; who was in the ripe manhood of his years; who loved Italy and +never despaired; who gave great affection, and took uncomplainingly the +possible return for it;--seemed like entering on a great plain open to +boundless heaven. She thought that friendship was sweeter than love. +Merthyr soon left the castle to meet his sister at Coire. Laura and +Vittoria drove some distance up the Vintschgau, on the way to the +Engadine, with him. He affected not to be downcast by the failure of the +last attempt at a rising in Milan. “Keep true to your Art; and don't let +it be subservient to anything,” he said, and his final injunction to her +was that she should get a German master and practise rigidly. + +Vittoria could only look at Laura in reply. + +“He is for us, but not of us,” said Laura, as she kissed her fingers to +him. + +“If he had told me to weep and pray,” Vittoria murmured, “I think I +should by-and-by lift up my head.” + +“By-and-by! By-and-by I think I see a convent for me,” said Laura. + +Their faces drooped. + +Vittoria cried: “Ah! did he mean that my singing at La Scala was below +the mark?” + +At this, Laura's laughter came out in a volume. “And that excellent +Father Bernardus thinks he is gaining a convert!” she said. + +Vittoria's depression was real, though her strong vitality appeared to +mock it. Letters from Milan, enclosed to the duchess, spoke of Carlo +Ammiani's imprisonment as a matter that might be indefinitely prolonged. +His mother had been subjected to an examination; she had not hesitated +to confess that she had received her nephew in her house, but it could +not be established against her that it was not Carlo whom she had passed +off to the sbirri as her son. Countess Ammiani wrote to Laura, telling +her she scarcely hoped that Carlo would obtain his liberty save upon the +arrest of Angelo:--“Therefore, what I most desire, I dare not pray for!” + That line of intense tragic grief haunted Vittoria like a veiled head +thrusting itself across the sunlight. Countess Ammiani added that she +must give her son what news she could gather;--“Concerning you,” said +Laura, interpreting the sentence: “Bitter days do this good, they make +a proud woman abjure the traditions of her caste.” A guarded answer +was addressed, according to the countess's directions, to Sarpo the +bookseller, in Milan. For purposes of such a nature, Barto Rizzo turned +the uneasy craven to account. + +It happened that one of the maids at Sonnenberg was about to marry a +peasant, of Meran, part proprietor of a vineyard, and the nuptials were +to be celebrated at the castle. Among those who thronged the courtyard +on the afternoon of the ceremony, Vittoria beheld her faithful Beppo, +who related the story of his pursuit of her, and the perfidy of +Luigi;--a story so lengthy, that his voluble tongue running at full +speed could barely give the outlines of it. He informed her, likewise, +that he had been sent for, while lying in Trent, by Captain Weisspriess, +whom he had seen at an inn of the Ultenthal, weak but improving. Beppo +was the captain's propitiatory offering to Vittoria. Meanwhile the +ladies sat on a terrace, overlooking the court, where a stout fellow +in broad green braces and blue breeches lay half across a wooden table, +thrumming a zither, which set the groups in motion. The zither is a +melancholy little instrument; in range of expression it is to the harp +what the winchat is to the thrush; or to the violin, what that bird is +to the nightingale; yet few instruments are so exciting: here and there +along these mountain valleys you may hear a Tyrolese maid set her voice +to its plaintive thin tones; but when the strings are swept madly +there is mad dancing; it catches at the nerves. “Andreas! Andreas!” the +dancers shouted to encourage the player. Some danced with vine-poles; +partners broke and wandered at will, taking fresh partners, and +occasionally huddling in confusion, when the poles were levelled and +tilted at them, and they dispersed. Beppo, dancing mightily to recover +the use of his legs, met his acquaintance Jacob Baumwalder Feckelwitz, +and the pair devoted themselves to a rivalry of capers; jump, stamp, +shuffle, leg aloft, arms in air, yell and shriek: all took hands around +them and streamed, tramping the measure, and the vine-poles guarded +the ring. Then Andreas raised the song: “Our Lady is gracious,” and +immediately the whole assemblage were singing praise to the Lady of the +castle. Following which, wine being brought to Andreas, he drank to +his lady, to his lady's guests, to the bride, to the bridegroom, to +everybody. He was now ready to improvize, and dashed thumb and finger on +the zither, tossing up his face, swarthy-flushed: “There was a steinbock +with a beard.” Half-a-dozen voices repeated it, as to proclaim the +theme. + +“Alas! a beard indeed, for there is no end to this animal. I know him;” + said the duchess dolefully. + + “There was a steinbock with a beard; + Of no gun was he afeard + Piff-paff left of him: piff-paff right of him + Piff-paff everywhere, where you get a sight of him.” + +The steinbock led through the whole course of a mountaineer's emotions +and experiences, with piff-paff continually left of him and right of him +and nothing hitting him. The mountaineer is perplexed; an able man, a +dead shot, who must undo the puzzle or lose faith in his skill, is a +tremendous pursuer, and the mountaineer follows the steinbock ever. A +'sennderin' at a 'sennhutchen' tells him that she admitted the steinbock +last night, and her curled hair frizzled under the steinbock's eyes. The +case is only too clear: my goodness! the steinbock is the--“Der Teu!...” + said Andreas, with a comic stop of horror, the rhyme falling cleverly to +“ai.” Henceforth the mountaineer becomes transformed into a champion +of humanity, hunting the wicked bearded steinbock in all corners; +especially through the cabinet of those dark men who decree the taxes +detested in Tyrol. + +The song had as yet but fairly commenced, when a break in the +'piff-paff' chorus warned Andreas that he was losing influence, women +and men were handing on a paper and bending their heads over it; their +responses hushed altogether, or were ludicrously inefficient. + +“I really believe the poor brute has come to a Christian finish--this +Ahasuerus of steinbocks!” said the duchess. + +The transition to silence was so extraordinary and abrupt, that she +called to her chasseur to know the meaning of it. Feckelwitz fetched +the paper and handed it up. It exhibited a cross done in blood under the +word 'Meran,' and bearing that day's date. One glance at it told Laura +what it meant. The bride in the court below was shedding tears: +the bridegroom was lighting his pipe and consoling her; women were +chattering, men shrugging. Some said they had seen an old grey-haired +hag (hexe) stand at the gates and fling down a piece of paper. A little +boy whose imagination was alive with the tale of the steinbock, declared +that her face was awful, and that she had only the use of one foot. A +man patted him on the shoulder, and gave him a gulp of wine, saying with +his shrewdest air: “One may laugh at the devil once too often, though!” + and that sentiment was echoed; the women suggested in addition the +possibility of the bride Lisa having something on her conscience, +seeing that she had lived in a castle two years and more. The potential +persuasions of Father Bernardus were required to get the bride to +go away to her husband's roof that evening: when she did make her +departure, the superstitious peasantry were not a merry party that +followed at her heels. + +At the break-up of the festivities Wilfrid received an intimation that +his sister had arrived in Meran from Bormio. He went down to see her, +and returned at a late hour. The ladies had gone to rest. He wrote a few +underlined words, entreating Vittoria to grant an immediate interview +in the library of the castle. The missive was entrusted to Aennchen. +Vittoria came in alarm. + +“My sister is perfectly well,” said Wilfrid. “She has heard that +Captain Gambier has been arrested in the mountains; she had some fears +concerning you, which I quieted. What I have to tell you, does not +relate to her. The man Angelo Guidascarpi is in Meran. I wish you to let +the signora know that if he is not carried out of the city before sunset +to-morrow, I must positively inform the superior officer of the district +of his presence there.” + +This was their first private interview. Vittoria (for she knew him) had +acceded to it, much fearing that it would lead to her having to put on +her sex's armour. To collect her wits, she asked tremblingly how Wilfrid +had chanced to see Angelo. An old Italian woman, he said, had accosted +him at the foot of the mountain, and hearing that he was truly an +Englishman--“I am out of my uniform,” Wilfrid remarked with intentional +bitterness--had conducted him to the house of an Italian in the city, +where Angelo Guidascarpi was lying. + +“Ill?” said Vittoria. + +“Just recovering. After that duel, or whatever it may be called with +Weisspriess, he lay all night out on the mountains. He managed to get +the help of a couple of fellows, who led him at dusk into Meran, saw an +Italian name over a shop, and--I will say for them that the rascals hold +together. There he is, at all events.” + +“Would you denounce a sick man, Wilfrid?” + +“I certainly cannot forget my duty upon every point” + +“You are changed!” + +“Changed! Am I the only one who is changed?” + +“He must have supposed that it would be Merthyr. I remember speaking of +Merthyr to him as our unchangeable friend. I told him Merthyr would be +here.” + +“Instead of Merthyr, he had the misfortune to see your changeable +friend, if you will have it so.” + +“But how can it be your duty to denounce him, Wilfrid. You have quitted +that army.” + +“Have I? I have forfeited my rank, perhaps.” + +“And Angelo is not guilty of a military offence.” + +“He has slain one of a family that I am bound to respect.” + +“Certainly, certainly,” said Vittoria hurriedly. + +Her forehead showed distress of mind; she wanted Laura's counsel. + +“Wilfrid, do you know the whole story?” + +“I know that he inveigled Count Paul to his house and slew him; either +he or his brother, or both.” + +“I have been with him for days, Wilfrid. I believe that he would do no +dishonourable thing. He is related----“. + +“He is the cousin of Count Ammiani.” + +“Ah! would you plunge us in misery?” + +“How?” + +“Count Ammiani is my lover.” + +She uttered it unblushingly, and with tender eyes fixed on him. + +“Your lover!” he exclaimed, with vile emphasis. + +“He will be my husband,” she murmured, while the mounting hot colour +burned at her temples. + +“Changed--who is changed?” he said, in a vehement underneath. “For that +reason I am to be false to her who does me the honour to care for me!” + +“I would not have you false to her in thought or deed.” + +“You ask me to spare this man on account of his relationship to your +lover, and though he has murdered the brother of the lady whom I esteem. +What on earth is the meaning of the petition? Really, you amaze me.” + +“I appeal to your generosity, Wilfrid, I am Emilia.” + +“Are you?” + +She gave him her hand. He took it, and felt at once the limit of all +that he might claim. Dropping the hand, he said: + +“Will nothing less than my ruin satisfy you? Since that night at La +Scala, I am in disgrace with my uncle; I expect at any moment to hear +that I am cashiered from the army, if not a prisoner. What is it that +you ask of me now? To conspire with you in shielding the man who has +done a mortal injury to the family of which I am almost one. Your reason +must perceive that you ask too much. I would willingly assist you in +sparing the feelings of Count Ammiani; and, believe me, gratitude is +the last thing I require to stimulate my services. You ask too much; you +must see that you ask too much.” + +“I do,” said Vittoria. “Good-night, Wilfrid.” + +He was startled to find her going, and lost his equable voice in +trying to detain her. She sought relief in Laura's bosom, to whom she +recapitulated the interview. + +“Is it possible,” Laura said, looking at her intently, “that you do not +recognize the folly of telling this Lieutenant Pierson that you were +pleading to him on behalf of your lover? Could anything be so monstrous, +when one can see that he is malleable to the twist of your little +finger? Are you only half a woman, that you have no consciousness of +your power? Probably you can allow yourself--enviable privilege!--to +suppose that he called you down at this late hour simply to inform you +that he is compelled to do something which will cause you unhappiness! +I repeat, it is an enviable privilege. Now, when the real occasion has +come for you to serve us, you have not a single weapon--except these +tears, which you are wasting on my lap. Be sure that if he denounces +Angelo, Angelo's life cries out against you. You have but to quicken +your brain to save him. Did he expose his life for you or not? I knew +that he was in Meran,” the signora continued sadly. “The paper which +frightened the silly peasants, revealed to me that he was there, +needing help. I told you Angelo was under an evil star. I thought my day +to-morrow would be a day of scheming. The task has become easy, if you +will.” + +“Be merciful; the task is dreadful,” said Vittoria. + +“The task is simple. You have an instrument ready to your hands. You +can do just what you like with him--make an Italian of him; make him +renounce his engagement to this pert little Lena of Lenkenstein, break +his sword, play Arlecchino, do what you please. He is not required for +any outrageous performance. A week, and Angelo will have recovered his +strength; you likewise may resume the statuesque demeanour which you +have been exhibiting here. For the space of one week you are asked for +some natural exercise of your wits and compliancy. Hitherto what have +you accomplished, pray?” Laura struck spitefully at Vittoria's +degraded estimation of her worth as measured by events. “You have done +nothing--worse than nothing. It gives me horrors to find it necessary to +entreat you to look your duty in the face and do it, that even three +or four Italian hearts--Carlo among them--may thank you. Not Carlo, you +say?” (Vittoria had sobbed, “No, not Carlo.”) “How little you know men! +How little do you think how the obligations of the hour should affect +a creature deserving life! Do you fancy that Carlo wishes you to be for +ever reading the line of a copy-book and shaping your conduct by it? +Our Italian girls do this; he despises them. Listen to me; do not I +know what is meant by the truth of love? I pass through fire, and keep +constant to it; but you have some vile Romance of Chivalry in your head; +a modern sculptor's figure, 'MEDITATION;' that is the sort of bride you +would give him in the stirring days of Italy. Do you think it is only +a statue that can be true? Perceive--will you not--that this Lieutenant +Pierson is your enemy. He tells you as much; surely the challenge is +fair? Defeat him as you best can. Angelo shall not be abandoned.” + +“O me! it is unendurable; you are merciless,” said Vittoria, shuddering. + +She saw the vile figure of herself aping smirks and tender meanings to +her old lover. It was a picture that she dared not let her mind rest +on: how then could she personate it? All through her life she had been +frank; as a young woman, she was clear of soul; she felt that her, +simplicity was already soiled by the bare comprehension of the +abominable course indicated by Laura. Degradation seemed to have been a +thing up to this moment only dreamed of; but now that it was demanded of +her to play coquette and trick her womanhood with false allurements, +she knew the sentiment of utter ruin; she was ashamed. No word is more +lightly spoken than shame. Vittoria's early devotion to her Art, and +subsequently to her Italy, had carried her through the term when she +would otherwise have showed the natural mild attack of the disease. +It came on her now in a rush, penetrating every chamber of her heart, +overwhelming her; she could see no distinction between being ever so +little false and altogether despicable. She had loathings of her body +and her life. With grovelling difficulty of speech she endeavoured +to convey the sense of her repugnance to Laura, who leaned her ear, +wondering at such bluntness of wit in a woman, and said, “Are you quite +deficient in the craft of your sex, child? You can, and you will, guard +yourself ten times better when your aim is simply to subject him.” But +this was not reason to a spirit writhing in the serpent-coil of fiery +blushes. + +Vittoria said, “I shall pity him so.” + +She meant she would pity Wilfrid in deluding him. It was a taint of the +hypocrisy which comes with shame. + +The signora retorted: “I can't follow the action of your mind a bit.” + +Pity being a form of tenderness, Laura supposed that she would +intuitively hate the man who compelled her to do what she abhorred. + +They spent the greater portion of the night in this debate. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE ESCAPE OF ANGELO + +Vittoria knew better than Laura that the task was easy; she had but to +override her aversion to the show of trifling with a dead passion; and +when she thought of Angelo lying helpless in the swarm of enemies, and +that Wilfrid could consent to use his tragic advantage to force her to +silly love-play, his selfishness wrought its reflection, so that she +became sufficiently unjust to forget her marvellous personal influence +over him. Even her tenacious sentiment concerning his white uniform was +clouded. She very soon ceased to be shamefaced in her own fancy. At dawn +she stood at her window looking across the valley of Meran, and felt the +whole scene in a song of her heart, with the faintest recollection of +her having passed through a tempest overnight. The warm Southern glow +of the enfoliaged valley recalled her living Italy, and Italy her voice. +She grew wakefully glad: it was her nature, not her mind, that had +twisted in the convulsions of last night's horror of shame. The chirp +of healthy blood in full-flowing veins dispersed it; and as a tropical +atmosphere is cleared by the hurricane, she lost her depression and went +down among her enemies possessed by an inner delight, that was again of +her nature, not of her mind. She took her gladness for a happy sign that +she had power to rise buoyant above circumstances; and though aware that +she was getting to see things in harsh outlines, she was unconscious of +her haggard imagination. + +The Lenkensteins had projected to escape the blandishments of Vienna by +residing during the winter in Venice, where Wilfrid and his sister were +to be the guests of the countess:--a pleasant prospect that was dashed +out by an official visit from Colonel Zofel of the Meran garrison, +through whom it was known that Lieutenant Pierson, while enjoying his +full liberty to investigate the charms of the neighbourhood, might not +extend his excursions beyond a pedestrian day's limit;--he was, in fact, +under surveillance. The colonel formally exacted his word of honour that +he would not attempt to pass the bounds, and explained to the duchess +that the injunction was favourable to the lieutenant, as implying +that he must be ready at any moment to receive the order to join his +regiment. Wilfrid bowed with a proper soldierly submission. Respecting +the criminal whom his men were pursuing, Colonel Zofel said that he was +sparing no efforts to come on his traces; he supposed, from what he +had heard in the Ultenthal, that Guidascarpi was on his back somewhere +within a short range of Meran. Vittoria strained her ears to the +colonel's German; she fancied his communication to be that he suspected +Angelo's presence in Meran. + +The official part of his visit being terminated, the colonel addressed +some questions to the duchess concerning the night of the famous +Fifteenth at La Scala. He was an amateur, and spoke with enthusiasm of +the reports of the new prima donna. The duchess perceived that he was +asking for an introduction to the heroine of the night, and graciously +said that perhaps that very prima donna would make amends, to him for +his absence on the occasion. Vittoria checked a movement of revolt in +her frame. She cast an involuntary look at Wilfrid. “Now it begins,” + she thought, and went to the piano: she had previously refused to +sing. Wilfrid had to bend his head over his betrothed and listen to her +whisperings. He did so, carelessly swaying his hand to the measure of +the aria, with an increasing bitter comparison of the two voices. +Lena persisted in talking; she was indignant at his abandonment of +the journey to Venice; she reproached him as feeble, inconsiderate, +indifferent. Then for an instant she would pause to hear the voice, and +renew her assault. “We ought to be thankful that she is not singing +a song of death and destruction to us! The archduchess is coming to +Venice. If you are presented to her and please her, and get the writs +of naturalization prepared, you will be one of us completely, and your +fortune is made. If you stay here--why should you stay? It is nothing +but your uncle's caprice. I am too angry to care for music. If you stay, +you will earn my contempt. I will not be buried another week in such a +place. I am tired of weeping. We all go to Venice: Captain Weisspriess +follows us. We are to have endless Balls, an opera, a Court there--with +whom am I to dance, pray, when I am out of mourning? Am I to sit and +govern my feet under a chair, and gaze like an imbecile nun? It is too +preposterous. I am betrothed to you; I wish, I wish to behave like a +betrothed. The archduchess herself will laugh to see me chained to a +chair. I shall have to reply a thousand times to 'Where is he?' What can +I answer? 'Wouldn't come,' will be the only true reply.” + +During this tirade, Vittoria was singing one of her old songs, well +known to Wilfrid, which brought the vision of a foaming weir, and +moonlight between the branches of a great cedar-tree, and the lost love +of his heart sitting by his side in the noising stillness. He was sure +that she could be singing it for no one but for him. The leap taken by +his spirit from this time to that, was shorter than from the past back +to the present. + +“You do not applaud,” said Lena, when the song had ceased. + +He murmured: “I never do, in drawing-rooms.” + +“A cantatrice expects it everywhere; these creatures live on it.” + +“I'll tell her, if you like, what we thought of it, when I take her down +to my sister, presently.” + +“Are you not to take me down?” + +“The etiquette is to hand her up to you.” + +“No, no!” Lena insisted, in abhorrence of etiquette; but Wilfrid said +pointedly that his sister's feelings must be spared. “Her husband is an +animal: he is a millionaire city-of-London merchant; conceive him! +He has drunk himself gouty on Port wine, and here he is for the +grape-cure.” + +“Ah! in that England of yours, women marry for wealth,” said Lena. + +“Yes, in your Austria they have a better motive” he interpreted her +sentiment. + +“Say, in our Austria.” + +“In our Austria, certainly.” + +“And with our holy religion?” + +“It is not yet mine.” + +“It will be?” She put the question eagerly. + +Wilfrid hesitated, and by his adept hesitation succeeded in throwing her +off the jealous scent. + +“Say that it will be, my Wilfrid!” + +“You must give me time” + +“This subject always makes you cold.” + +“My own Lena!” + +“Can I be, if we are doomed to be parted when we die?” + +There is small space for compunction in a man's heart when he is in +Wilfrid's state, burning with the revival of what seemed to him a +superhuman attachment. He had no design to break his acknowledged +bondage to Countess Lena, and answered her tender speech almost as +tenderly. + +It never occurred to him, as he was walking down to Meran with Vittoria, +that she could suppose him to be bartering to help rescue the life of a +wretched man in return for soft confidential looks of entreaty; nor did +he reflect, that when cast on him, they might mean no more than the +wish to move him for a charitable purpose. The completeness of her +fascination was shown by his reading her entirely by his own emotions, +so that a lowly-uttered word, or a wavering unwilling glance, made him +think that she was subdued by the charm of the old days. + +“Is it here?” she said, stopping under the first Italian name she saw in +the arcade of shops. + +“How on earth have you guessed it?” he asked, astonished. + +She told him to wait at the end of the arcade, and passed in. When she +joined him again, she was downcast. They went straight to Adela's hotel, +where the one thing which gave her animation was the hearing that Mr. +Sedley had met an English doctor there, and had placed himself in his +hands. Adela dressed splendidly for her presentation to the duchess. +Having done so, she noticed Vittoria's depressed countenance and +difficult breathing. She commanded her to see the doctor. Vittoria +consented, and made use of him. She could tell Laura confidently at +night that Wilfrid would not betray Angelo, though she had not spoken +one direct word to him on the subject. + +Wilfrid was peculiarly adept in the idle game he played. One who is +intent upon an evil end is open to expose his plan. But he had none in +view; he lived for the luxurious sensation of being near the woman who +fascinated him, and who was now positively abashed when by his side. +Adela suggested to him faintly--she believed it was her spontaneous +idea--that he might be making his countess jealous. He assured her that +the fancy sprang from scenes which she remembered, and that she could +have no idea of the pride of a highborn Austrian girl, who was incapable +of conceiving jealousy of a person below her class. Adela replied +that it was not his manner so much as Emilia's which might arouse the +suspicion; but she immediately affected to appreciate the sentiments +of a highborn Austrian girl toward a cantatrice, whose gifts we regard +simply as an aristocratic entertainment. Wilfrid induced his sister to +relate Vittoria's early history to Countess Lena; and himself almost +wondered, when he heard it in bare words, at that haunting vision of the +glory of Vittoria at La Scala--where, as he remembered, he would have +run against destruction to cling to her lips. Adela was at first alarmed +by the concentrated wrathfulness which she discovered in the bosom of +Countess Anna, who, as their intimacy waxed, spoke of the intruding +opera siren in terms hardly proper even to married women; but it seemed +right, as being possibly aristocratic. Lena was much more tolerant. +“I have just the same enthusiasm for soldiers that my Wilfrid has for +singers,” she said; and it afforded Adela exquisite pleasure to hear +her tell how that she had originally heard of the 'eccentric young +Englishman,' General Pierson's nephew, as a Lustspiel--a comedy; and of +his feats on horseback, and his duels, and his--“he was very wicked +over here, you know;” Lena laughed. She assumed the privileges of her +four-and-twenty years and her rank. Her marriage was to take place in +the Spring. She announced it with the simplicity of an independent woman +of the world, adding, “That is, if my Wilfrid will oblige me by not +plunging into further disgrace with the General.” + +“No; you will not marry a man who is under a cloud,” Anna subjoined. + +“Certainly not a soldier,” said Lena. “What it was exactly that he +did at La Scala, I don't know, and don't care to know, but he was then +ignorant that she had touched the hand of that Guidascarpi. I decide by +this--he was valiant; he defied everybody: therefore I forgive him. He +is not in disgrace with me. I will reinstate him.” + +“You have your own way of being romantic,” said Anna. “A soldier who +forgets his duty is in my opinion only a brave fool.” + +“It seems to me that a great many gallant officers are fond of fine +voices,” Lena retorted. + +“No doubt it is a fashion among them,” said Anna. + +Adela recoiled with astonishment when she began to see the light in +which the sisters regarded Vittoria; and she was loyal enough to hint +and protest on her friend's behalf. The sisters called her a very good +soul. “It may not be in England as over here,” said Anna. “We have to +submit to these little social scourges.” + +Lena whispered to Adela, “An angry woman will think the worst. I have no +doubt of my Wilfrid. If I had!--” + +Her eyes flashed. Fire was not wanting in her. + +The difficulties which tasked the amiable duchess to preserve an outward +show of peace among the antagonistic elements she gathered together were +increased by the arrival at the castle of Count Lenkenstein, Bianca's +husband, and head of the family, from Bologna. He was a tall and courtly +man, who had one face for his friends and another for the reverse party; +which is to say, that his manners could be bad. Count Lenkenstein was +accompanied by Count Serabiglione, who brought Laura's children with +their Roman nurse, Assunta. Laura kissed her little ones, and sent them +out of her sight. Vittoria found her home in their play and prattle. +She needed a refuge, for Count Lenkenstein was singularly brutal in +his bearing toward her. He let her know that he had come to Meran to +superintend the hunt for the assassin, Angelo Guidascarpi. He attempted +to exact her promise in precise speech that she would be on the spot +to testify against Angelo when that foul villain should be caught. He +objected openly to Laura's children going about with her. Bitter talk +on every starting subject was exchanged across the duchess's table. +She herself was in disgrace on Laura's account, and had to practise +an overflowing sweetness, with no one to second her efforts. The two +noblemen spoke in accord on the bubble revolution. The strong hand--ay, +the strong hand! The strong hand disposes of vermin. Laura listened +to them, pallid with silent torture. “Since the rascals have taken +to assassination, we know that we have them at the dregs,” said Count +Lenkenstein. “A cord round the throats of a few scores of them, and the +country will learn the virtue of docility.” + +Laura whispered to her sister: “Have you espoused a hangman?” + +Such dropping of deadly shells in a quiet society went near to +scattering it violently; but the union was necessitous. Count +Lenkenstein desired to confront Vittoria with Angelo; Laura would not +quit her side, and Amalia would not expel her friend. Count Lenkenstein +complained roughly of Laura's conduct; nor did Laura escape her father's +reproof. “Sir, you are privileged to say what you will to me,” she +responded, with the humility which exasperated him. + +“Yes, you bend, you bend, that you may be stiff-necked when it suits +you,” he snapped her short. + +“Surely that is the text of the sermon you preach to our Italy!” + +“A little more, as you are running on now, madame, and our Italy will be +froth on the lips. You see, she is ruined.” + +“Chi lo fa, lo sa,” hummed Laura; “but I would avoid quoting you as that +authority.” + +“After your last miserable fiasco, my dear!” + +“It was another of our school exercises. We had not been good boys +and girls. We had learnt our lesson imperfectly. We have received our +punishment, and we mean to do better next time.” + +“Behave seasonably, fittingly; be less of a wasp; school your tongue.” + +“Bianca is a pattern to me, I am aware,” said Laura. + +“She is a good wife.” + +“I am a poor widow.” + +“She is a good daughter.” + +“I am a wicked rebel.” + +“And you are scheming at something now,” said the little nobleman, +sagacious so far; but he was too eager to read the verification of the +tentative remark in her face, and she perceived that it was a guess +founded on her show of spirit. + +“Scheming to contain my temper, which is much tried,” she said. “But I +suppose it supports me. I can always keep up against hostility.” + +“You provoke it; you provoke it.” + +“My instinct, then, divines my medicine.” + +“Exactly, my dear; your personal instinct. That instigates you all. And +none are so easily conciliated as these Austrians. Conciliate them, and +you have them.” Count Serabiglione diverged into a repetition of his +theory of the policy and mission of superior intelligences, as regarded +his system for dealing with the Austrians. + +Nurse Assunta's jealousy was worked upon to separate the children from +Vittoria. They ran down with her no more to meet the vast bowls of +grapes in the morning and feather their hats with vine leaves. Deprived +of her darlings, the loneliness of her days made her look to Wilfrid +for commiseration. Father Bernardus was too continually exhortative, and +fenced too much to “hit the eyeball of her conscience,” as he phrased +it, to afford her repose. Wilfrid could tell himself that he had already +done much for her; for if what he had done were known, his career, +social and military, was ended. This idea being accompanied by a sense +of security delighted him; he was accustomed to inquire of Angelo's +condition, and praise the British doctor who was attending him +gratuitously. “I wish I could get him out of the way,” he said, and +frowned as in a mental struggle. Vittoria heard him repeat his “I wish!” + It heightened greatly her conception of the sacrifice he would be making +on her behalf and charity's. She spoke with a reverential tenderness, +such as it was hard to suppose a woman capable of addressing to other +than the man who moved her soul. The words she uttered were pure thanks; +it was the tone which sent them winged and shaking seed. She had spoken +partly to prompt his activity, but her self-respect had been sustained +by his avoidance of the dreaded old themes, and that grateful feeling +made her voice musically rich. + +“I dare not go to him, but the doctor tells me the fever has left him, +Wilfrid; his wounds are healing; but he is bandaged from head to +foot. The sword pierced his side twice, and his arms and hands are cut +horribly. He cannot yet walk. If he is discovered he is lost. Count +Lenkenstein has declared that he will stay at the castle till he has him +his prisoner. The soldiers are all round us. They know that Angelo is +in the ring. They have traced him all over from the Valtellina to this +Ultenthal, and only cannot guess where he is in the lion's jaw. I rise +in the morning, thinking, 'Is this to be the black day?' He is sure to +be caught.” + +“If I could hit on a plan,” said Wilfrid, figuring as though he had a +diorama of impossible schemes revolving before his eyes. + +“I could believe in the actual whispering of an angel if you did. It was +to guard me that Angelo put himself in peril.” + +“Then,” said Wilfrid, “I am his debtor. I owe him as much as my life is +worth.” + +“Think, think,” she urged; and promised affection, devotion, veneration, +vague things, that were too like his own sentiments to prompt him +pointedly. Yet he so pledged himself to her by word, and prepared his +own mind to conceive the act of service, that (as he did not reflect) +circumstance might at any moment plunge him into a gulf. Conduct of this +sort is a challenge sure to be answered. + +One morning Vittoria was gladdened by a letter from Rocco Ricci, who had +fled to Turin. He told her that the king had promised to give her a warm +welcome in his capital, where her name was famous. She consulted with +Laura, and they resolved to go as soon as Angelo could stand on his +feet. Turin was cold--Italy, but it was Italy; and from Turin the +Italian army was to flow, like the Mincio from the Garda lake. “And +there, too, is a stage,” Vittoria thought, in a suddenly revived thirst +for the stage and a field for work. She determined to run down to Meran +and see Angelo. Laura walked a little way with her, till Wilfrid, alert +for these occasions, joined them. On the commencement of the zig-zag +below, there were soldiers, the sight of whom was not confusing. +Military messengers frequently came up to the castle where Count +Lenkenstein, assisted by Count Serabiglione, examined their depositions, +the Italian in the manner of a winding lawyer, the German of a gruff +judge. Half-way down the zig-zag Vittoria cast a preconcerted signal +back to Laura. The soldiers had a pair of prisoners between their ranks; +Vittoria recognized the men who had carried Captain Weisspriess from the +ground where the duel was fought. A quick divination told her that they +held Angelo's life on their tongues. They must have found him in the +mountain-pass while hurrying to their homes, and it was they who had +led him to Meran. On the Passeyr bridge, she turned and said to Wilfrid, +“Help me now. Send instantly the doctor in a carriage to the place where +he is lying.” + +Wilfrid was intent on her flushed beauty and the half-compressed quiver +of her lip. + +She quitted him and hurried to Angelo. Her joy broke out in a cry of +thankfulness at sight of Angelo; he had risen from his bed; he could +stand, and he smiled. + +“That Jacopo is just now the nearest link to me,” he said, when she +related her having seen the two men guarded by soldiers; he felt +helpless, and spoke in resignation. She followed his eye about the room +till it rested on the stilet. This she handed to him. “If they think of +having me alive!” he said softly. The Italian and his wife who had given +him shelter and nursed him came in, and approved his going, though they +did not complain of what they might chance to have incurred. He offered +them his purse, and they took it. Minutes of grievous expectation went +by; Vittoria could endure them no longer; she ran out to the hotel, +near which, in the shade of a poplar, Wilfrid was smoking quietly. +He informed her that his sister and the doctor had driven out to meet +Captain Gambier; his brother-in-law was alone upstairs. Her look of +amazement touched him more shrewdly than scorn, and he said, “What on +earth can I do?” + +“Order out a carriage. Send your brother-in-law in it. If you tell him +'for your health,' he will go.” + +“On my honour, I don't know where those three words would not send him,” + said Wilfrid; but he did not move, and was for protesting that he +really could not guess what was the matter, and the ground for all this +urgency. + +Vittoria compelled her angry lips to speak out her suspicions +explicitly, whereupon he glanced at the sun-glare in a meditation, +occasionally blinking his eyes. She thought, “Oh, heaven! can he be +waiting for me to coax him?” It was the truth, though it would have been +strange to him to have heard it. She grew sure that it was the truth; +never had she despised living creature so utterly as when she murmured, +“My best friend! my brother! my noble Wilfrid! my old beloved! help me +now, without loss of a minute.” + +It caused his breath to come and go unevenly. + +“Repeat that--once, only once,” he said. + +She looked at him with the sorrowful earnestness which, as its meaning +was shut from him, was so sweet. + +“You will repeat it by-and-by?--another time? Trust me to do my +utmost. Old beloved! What is the meaning of 'old beloved'? One word in +explanation. If it means anything, I would die for you! Emilia, do you +hear?--die for you! To me you are nothing old or by-gone, whatever I +may be to you. To me--yes, I will order the carriage you are the +Emilia--listen! listen! Ah! you have shut your ears against me. I am +bound in all seeming, but I--you drive me mad; you know your power. +Speak one word, that I may feel--that I may be convinced,... or not a +single word; I will obey you without. I have said that you command my +life.” + +In a block of carriages on the bridge, Vittoria perceived a lifted hand. +It was Laura's; Beppo was in attendance on her. Laura drove up and said: +“You guessed right; where is he?” The communications between them were +more indicated than spoken. Beppo had heard Jacopo confess to his having +conducted a wounded Italian gentleman into Meran. “That means that the +houses will be searched within an hour,” said Laura; “my brother-in-law +Bear is radiant.” She mimicked the Lenkenstein physiognomy spontaneously +in the run of her speech. “If Angelo can help himself ever so little, he +has a fair start.” A look was cast on Wilfrid; Vittoria nodded--Wilfrid +was entrapped. + +“Englishmen we can trust,” said Laura, and requested him to step into +her carriage. He glanced round the open space. Beppo did the same, and +beheld the chasseur Jacob Baumwalder Feckelwitz crossing the bridge on +foot, but he said nothing. Wilfrid was on the step of the carriage, for +what positive object neither he nor the others knew, when his sister and +the doctor joined them. Captain Gambier was still missing. + +“He would have done anything for us,” Vittoria said in Wilfrid's +hearing. + +“Tell us what plan you have,” the latter replied fretfully. + +She whispered: “Persuade Adela to make her husband drive out. The doctor +will go too, and Beppo. They shall take Angelo. Our carriage will follow +empty, and bring Mr. Sedley back.” + +Wilfrid cast his eyes up in the air, at the monstrous impudence of the +project. “A storm is coming on,” he suggested, to divert her reading of +his grimace; but she was speaking to the doctor, who readily answered +her aloud: “If you are certain of what you say.” The remark incited +Wilfrid to be no subordinate in devotion; handing Adela from the +carriage, while the doctor ran up to Mr. Sedley, he drew her away. Laura +and Vittoria watched the motion of their eyes and lips. + +“Will he tell her the purpose?” said Laura. + +Vittoria smiled nervously: “He is fibbing.” + +Marking the energy expended by Wilfrid in this art, the wiser woman +said: “Be on your guard the next two minutes he gets you alone.” + +“You see his devotion.” + +“Does he see his compensation? But he must help us at any hazard.” + +Adela broke away from her brother twice, and each time he fixed her +to the spot more imperiously. At last she ran into the hotel; she was +crying. “A bad economy of tears,” said Laura, commenting on the dumb +scene, to soothe her savage impatience. “In another twenty minutes we +shall have the city gates locked.” + +They heard a window thrown up; Mr. Sedley's head came out, and peered at +the sky. Wilfrid said to Vittoria: “I can do nothing beyond what I have +done, I fear.” + +She thought it was a petition for thanks, but Laura knew better; she +said: “I see Count Lenkenstein on his way to the barracks.” + +Wilfrid bowed: “I may be able to serve you in that quarter.” + +He retired: whereupon Laura inquired how her friend could reasonably +suppose that a man would ever endure being thanked in public. + +“I shall never understand and never care to understand them,” said +Vittoria. + +“It is a knowledge that is forced on us, my dear. May heaven make the +minds of our enemies stupid for the next five hours!--Apropos of what +I was saying, women and men are in two hostile camps. We have a sort +of general armistice and everlasting strife of individuals--Ah!” she +clapped hands on her knees, “here comes your doctor; I could fancy I see +a pointed light on his head. Men of science, my Sandra, are always the +humanest.” + +The chill air of wind preceding thunder was driving round the head of +the vale, and Mr. Sedley, wrapped in furs, and feebly remonstrating with +his medical adviser, stepped into his carriage. The doctor followed him, +giving a grave recognition of Vittoria's gaze. Both gentlemen raised +their hats to the ladies, who alighted as soon as they had gone in the +direction of the Vintschgau road. + +“One has only to furnish you with money, my Beppo,” said Vittoria, +complimenting his quick apprehensiveness. “Buy bread and cakes at one of +the shops, and buy wine. You will find me where you can, when you +have seen him safe. I have no idea of where my home will be. Perhaps +England.” + +“Italy, Italy! faint heart,” said Laura. + +Furnished with money, Beppo rolled away gaily. + +The doubt was in Laura whether an Englishman's wits were to be relied on +in such an emergency; but she admitted that the doctor had looked full +enough of serious meaning, and that the Englishman named Merthyr Powys +was keen and ready. They sat a long half-hour, that thumped itself +out like an alarm-bell, under the poplars, by the clamouring Passeyr, +watching the roll and spring of the waters, and the radiant foam, while +band-music played to a great company of visitors, and sounds of thunder +drew near. Over the mountains above the Adige, the leaden fingers of +an advance of the thunder-cloud pushed slowly, and on a sudden a mighty +gale sat heaped blank on the mountain-top and blew. Down went the heads +of the poplars, the river staggered in its leap, the vale was shuddering +grey. It was like the transformation in a fairy tale; Beauty had taken +her old cloak about her, and bent to calamity. The poplars streamed +their length sideways, and in the pauses of the strenuous wind nodded +and dashed wildly and white over the dead black water, that waxed in +foam and hissed, showing its teeth like a beast enraged. Laura +and Vittoria joined hands and struggled for shelter. The tent of a +travelling circus from the South, newly-pitched on a grassplot near the +river, was caught up and whirled in the air and flung in the face of +a marching guard of soldiery, whom it swathed and bore sheer to earth, +while on them and around them a line of poplars fell flat, the wind +whistling over them. Laura directed Vittoria's eyes to the sight. “See,” + she said, and her face was set hard with cold and excitement, so that +she looked a witch in the uproar; “would you not say the devil is loose +now Angelo is abroad?” Thunder and lightning possessed the vale, and +then a vertical rain. At the first gleam of sunlight, Laura and Vittoria +walked up to the Laubengasse--the street of the arcades, where they +made purchases of numerous needless articles, not daring to enter the +Italian's shop. A woman at a fruitstall opposite to it told them that no +carriage could have driven up there. During their great perplexity, mud +and rain-stained soldiers, the same whom they had seen borne to earth by +the flying curtain, marched before the shop; the shop and the house were +searched; the Italian and his old liming wife were carried away. + +“Tell me now, that storm was not Angelo's friend!” Laura muttered. + +“Can he have escaped?” said Vittoria. + +“He is 'on horseback.'” Laura quoted the Italian proverb to signify that +he had flown; how, she could not say, and none could inform her. The joy +of their hearts rose in one fountain. + +“I shall feel better blood in my body from this moment,” Laura said; and +Vittoria, “Oh! we can be strong, if we only resolve.” + +“You want to sing?” + +“I do.” + +“I shall find pleasure in your voice now.” + +“The wicked voice!” + +“Yes, the very wicked voice! But I shall be glad to hear it. You can +sing to-night, and drown those Lenkensteins.” + +“If my Carlo could hear me!” + +“Ah!” sighed the signora, musing. “He is in prison now. I remember him, +the dearest little lad, fencing with my husband for exercise after they +had been writing all day. When Giacomo was imprisoned, Carlo sat outside +the prison walls till it was time for him to enter; his chin and upper +lip were smooth as a girl's. Giacomo said to him, 'May you always have +the power of going out, or not have a wife waiting for you.' Here they +come.” (She spoke of tears.) “It's because I am joyful. The channel for +them has grown so dry that they prick and sting. Oh, Sandra! it would be +pleasant to me if we might both be buried for seven days, and have one +long howl of weakness together. A little bite of satisfaction makes +me so tired. I believe there's something very bad for us in our always +being at war, and never, never gaining ground. Just one spark of triumph +intoxicates us. Look at all those people pouring out again. They are +the children of fair weather. I hope the state of their health does not +trouble them too much. Vienna sends consumptive patients here. If you +regard them attentively, you will observe that they have an anxious air. +Their constitutions are not sound; they fear they may die.” + +Laura's irony was unforced; it was no more than a subtle discord +naturally struck from the scene by a soul in contrast with it. + +They beheld the riding forth of troopers and a knot of officers hotly +conversing together. At another point the duchess and the Lenkenstein +ladies, Count Lenkenstein, Count Serabiglione, and Wilfrid paced up and +down, waiting for music. Laura left the public places and crossed an +upper bridge over the Passeyr, near the castle, by which route she +skirted vines and dropped over sloping meadows to some shaded boulders +where the Passeyr found a sandy bay, and leaped in transparent green, +and whitened and swung twisting in a long smooth body down a narrow +chasm, and noised below. The thundering torrent stilled their +sensations: and the water, making battle against great blocks of +porphyry and granite, caught their thoughts. So strong was the +impression of it on Vittoria's mind, that for hours after, every image +she conceived seemed proper to the inrush and outpour; the elbowing, the +tossing, the foaming, the burst on stones, and silvery bubbles under and +silvery canopy above, the chattering and huzzaing; all working on to the +one-toned fall beneath the rainbow on the castle-rock. + +Next day, the chasseur Jacob Baumwalder Feckelwitz deposed in full +company at Sonnenberg, that, obeying Count Serabiglione's instructions, +he had gone down to the city, and had there seen Lieutenant Pierson with +the ladies in front of the hotel; he had followed the English carriage, +which took up a man who was standing ready on crutches at the corner +of the Laubengasse, and drove rapidly out of the North-western gate, +leading to Schlanders and Mals and the Engadine. He had witnessed the +transfer of the crippled man from one carriage to another, and had +raised shouts and given hue and cry, but the intervention of the storm +had stopped his pursuit. + +He was proceeding to say what his suppositions were. Count Lenkenstein +lifted his finger for Wilfrid to follow him out of the room. Count +Serabiglione went at their heels. Then Count Lenkenstein sent for his +wife, whom Anna and Lena accompanied. + +“How many persons are you going to ruin in the course of your crusade, +my dear?” the duchess said to Laura. + +“Dearest, I am penitent when I succeed,” said Laura. + +“If that young man has been assisting you, he is irretrievably ruined.” + +“I am truly sorry for him.” + +“As for me, the lectures I shall get in Vienna are terrible to think +of. This is the consequence of being the friend of both parties, and a +peace-maker.” + +Count Serabiglione returned alone from the scene at the examination, +rubbing his hands and nodding affably to his daughter. He maliciously +declined to gratify the monster of feminine curiosity in the lump, and +doled out the scene piecemeal. He might state, he observed, that it was +he who had lured Beppo to listen at the door during the examination +of the prisoners; and who had then planted a spy on him--following +the dictation of precepts exceedingly old. “We are generally beaten, +duchess; I admit it; and yet we generally contrive to show the brain. As +I say, wed brains to brute force!--but my Laura prefers to bring about +a contest instead of an union, so that somebody is certain to be struck, +and”--the count spread out his arms and bowed his head--“deserves the +blow.” He informed them that Count Lenkenstein had ordered Lieutenant +Pierson down to Meran, and that the lieutenant might expect to be +cashiered within five days. “What does it matter?” he addressed +Vittoria. “It is but a shuffling of victims; Lieutenant Pierson in the +place of Guidascarpi! I do not object.” + +Count Lenkenstein withdrew his wife and sisters from Sonnenberg +instantly. He sent an angry message of adieu to the duchess, informing +her that he alone was responsible for the behaviour of the ladies of his +family. The poor duchess wept. “This means that I shall be summoned to +Vienna for a scolding, and have to meet my husband,” she said to Laura, +who permitted herself to be fondled, and barely veiled her exultation in +her apology for the mischief she had done. An hour after the departure +of the Lenkensteins, the castle was again officially visited by Colonel +Zofel. Vittoria and Laura received an order to quit the district of +Meran before sunset. The two firebrands dropped no tears. “I really am +sorry for others when I succeed,” said Laura, trying to look sad upon +her friend. + +“No; the heart is eaten out of you both by excitement,” said the +duchess. + +Her tender parting, “Love me,” in the ear of Vittoria, melted one heart +of the two. + +Count Serabiglione continued to be buoyed up by his own and his +daughter's recent display of a superior intellectual dexterity until the +carriage was at the door and Laura presented her cheek to him. He +said, “You will know me a wise man when I am off the table.” His +gesticulations expressed “Ruin, headlong ruin!” He asked her how she +could expect him to be for ever repairing her follies. He was going +to Vienna; how could he dare to mention her name there? Not even in a +trifle would she consent to be subordinate to authority. Laura checked +her replies--the surrendering, of a noble Italian life to the Austrians +was such a trifle! She begged only that a poor wanderer might depart +with a father's blessing. The count refused to give it; he waved her +off in a fury of reproof; and so got smoothly over the fatal moment +when money, or the promise of money, is commonly extracted from parental +sources, as Laura explained his odd behaviour to her companion. The +carriage-door being closed, he regained his courtly composure; his fury +was displaced by a chiding finger, which he presently kissed. Father. +Bernardus was on the steps beside the duchess, and his blessing had not +been withheld from Vittoria, though he half confessed to her that she +was a mystery in his mind, and would always be one. + +“He can understand robust hostility,” Laura said, when Vittoria recalled +the look of his benevolent forehead and drooping eyelids; “but robust +ductility does astonish him. He has not meddled with me; yet I am the +one of the two who would be fair prey for an enterprising spiritual +father, as the destined roan of heaven will find out some day.” + +She bent and smote her lap. “How little they know us, my darling! They +take fever for strength, and calmness for submission. Here is the world +before us, and I feel that such a man, were he to pounce on me now, +might snap me up and lock me in a praying-box with small difficulty. And +I am the inveterate rebel! What is it nourishes you and keeps you always +aiming straight when you are alone? Once in Turin, I shall feel that I +am myself. Out of Italy I have a terrible craving for peace. It seems +here as if I must lean down to him, my beloved, who has left me.” + +Vittoria was in alarm lest Wilfrid should accost her while she drove +from gate to gate of the city. They passed under the archway of the gate +leading up to Schloss Tyrol, and along the road bordered by vines. An +old peasant woman stopped them with the signal of a letter in her hand. +“Here it is,” said Laura, and Vittoria could not help smiling at her +shrewd anticipation of it. + +“May I follow?” + +Nothing more than that was written. + +But the bearer of the missive had been provided with a lead pencil to +obtain the immediate reply. + +“An admirable piece of foresight!” Laura's honest exclamation burst +forth. + +Vittoria had to look in Laura's face before she could gather her will +to do the cruel thing which was least cruel. She wrote firmly:--“Never +follow me.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR--THE TOBACCO-RIOTS--RINALDO +GUIDASCARPI + +Anna von Lenkenstein was one who could wait for vengeance. 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR + +COUNT KARL LENKENSTEIN--THE STORY OF THE GUIDASCARPI--THE VICTORY OF THE +VOLUNTEERS + +The smoke of a pistol-shot thinned away while there was yet silence. + +“It is a saving of six charges of Austrian ammunition,” said Pericles. + +Vittoria stared at the scene, losing faith in her eyesight. She could in +fact see no distinct thing beyond what appeared as an illuminated copper +medallion, held at a great distance from her, with a dead man and a +towering female figure stamped on it. + +The events following were like a rush of water on her senses. There was +fighting up the street of the village, and a struggle in the space +where Rinaldo had fallen; successive yellowish shots under the rising +moonlight, cries from Italian lips, quick words of command from German +in Italian, and one sturdy bull's roar of a voice that called across +the tumult to the Austro-Italian soldiery, “Venite fratelli!--come, +brothers, come under our banner!” She heard “Rinaldo!” called. + +This was a second attack of the volunteers for the rescue of their +captured comrades. They fought more desperately than on the hill outside +the village: they fought with steel. Shot enfiladed them; yet they bore +forward in a scattered body up to that spot where Rinaldo lay, shouting +for him. There they turned,--they fled. + +Then there was a perfect stillness, succeeding the strife as quickly, +Vittoria thought, as a breath yielded succeeds a breath taken. + +She accused the heavens of injustice. + +Pericles, prostrate on the floor, moaned that he was wounded. She said, +“Bleed to death!” + +“It is my soul, it is my soul is wounded for you, Sandra.” + +“Dreadful craven man!” she muttered. + +“When my soul is shaking for your safety, Sandra Belloni!” Pericles +turned his ear up. “For myself--not; it is for you, for you.” + +Assured of the cessation of arms by delicious silence he jumped to his +feet. + +“Ah! brutes to fight. It is 'immonde;' it is unnatural!” + +He tapped his finger on the walls for marks of shot, and discovered a +shot-hole in the wood-work, that had passed an arm's length above +her head, into which he thrust his finger in an intense speculative +meditation, shifting eyes from it to her, and throwing them aloft. + +He was summoned to the presence of Count Karl, with whom he found +Captain Weisspriess, Wilfrid, and officers of jagers and the Italian +battalion. Barto Rizzo's wife was in a corner of the room. Weisspriess +met him with a very civil greeting, and introduced him to Count Karl, +who begged him to thank Vittoria for the aid she had afforded to General +Schoneck's emissary in crossing the Piedmontese lines. He spoke in +Italian. He agreed to conduct Pericles to a point on the route of his +march, where Pericles and his precious prima donna--“our very good +friend,” he said, jovially--could escape the risk of unpleasant mishaps, +and arrive at Trent and cities of peace by easy stages. He was marching +for the neighbourhood of Vicenza. + +A little before dawn Vittoria came down to the carriage. Count Karl +stood at the door to hand her in. He was young and handsome, with a soft +flowing blonde moustache and pleasant eyes, a contrast to his brother +Count Lenkenstein. He repeated his thanks to her, which Pericles had not +delivered; he informed her that she was by no means a prisoner, and was +simply under the guardianship of friends--“though perhaps, signorina, +you will not esteem this gentleman to be one of your friends.” He +pointed to Weisspriess. The officer bowed, but kept aloof. Vittoria +perceived a singular change in him: he had become pale and sedate. “Poor +fellow! he has had his dose,” Count Karl said. “He is, I beg to assure +you, one of your most vehement admirers.” + +A piece of her property that flushed her with recollections, yet made +her grateful, was presently handed to her, though not in her old +enemy's presence, by a soldier. It was the silver-hilted dagger, +Carlo's precious gift, of which Weisspriess had taken possession in +the mountain-pass over the vale of Meran, when he fought the duel +with Angelo. Whether intended as a peace-offering, or as a simple +restitution, it helped Vittoria to believe that Weisspriess was no +longer the man he had been. + +The march was ready, but Barto Rizzo's wife refused to move a foot. The +officers consulted. She, was brought before them. The soldiers swore +with jesting oaths that she had been carefully searched for weapons, and +only wanted a whipping. “She must have it,” said Weisspriess. Vittoria +entreated that she might have a place beside her in the carriage. “It is +more than I would have asked of you; but if you are not afraid of her,” + said Count Karl, with an apologetic shrug. + +Her heart beat fast when she found herself alone with the terrible +woman. + +Till then she had never seen a tragic face. Compared with this tawny +colourlessness, this evil brow, this shut mouth, Laura, even on the +battle-field, looked harmless. It was like the face of a dead savage. +The eyeballs were full on Vittoria, as if they dashed at an obstacle, +not embraced an image. In proportion as they seemed to widen about her, +Vittoria shrank. The whole woman was blood to her gaze. + +When she was capable of speaking, she said entreatingly: + +“I knew his brother.” + +Not a sign of life was given in reply. + +Companionship with this ghost of broad daylight made the flattering +Tyrolese feathers at both windows a welcome sight. + +Precautions had been taken to bind the woman's arms. Vittoria offered to +loosen the cords, but she dared not touch her without a mark of assent. + +“I know Angelo Guidascarpi, Rinaldo's brother,” she spoke again. + +The woman's nostrils bent inward, as when the breath we draw is keen as +a sword to the heart. Vittoria was compelled to look away from her. + +At the mid-day halt Count Karl deigned to justify to her his intended +execution of Rinaldo--the accomplice in the slaying of his brother Count +Paula. He was evidently eager to obtain her good opinion of the Austrian +military. “But for this miserable spirit of hatred against us,” he said, +“I should have espoused an Italian lady;” and he asked, “Why not? For +that matter, in all but blood we Lenkensteins are half Italian, except +when Italy menaces the empire. Can you blame us for then drawing the +sword in earnest?” + +He proffered his version of the death of Count Paul. She kept her own +silent in her bosom. + +Clelia Guidascarpi, according to his statement, had first been slain by +her brothers. Vittoria believed that Clelia had voluntarily submitted to +death and died by her own hand. She was betrothed to an Italian nobleman +of Bologna, the friend of the brothers. They had arranged the marriage; +she accepted the betrothal. “She loved my brother, poor thing!” said +Count Karl. “She concealed it, and naturally. How could she take a +couple of wolves into her confidence? If she had told the pair of +ruffians that she was plighted to an Austrian, they would have quieted +her at an earlier period. A woman! a girl--signorina! The intolerable +cowardice amazes me. It amazes me that you or anyone can uphold the +character of such brutes. And when she was dead they lured my brother to +the house and slew him; fell upon him with daggers, stretched him at the +foot of her coffin, and then--what then?--ran! ran for their lives. One +has gone to his account. We shall come across the other. He is among +that volunteer party which attacked us yesterday. The body was carried +off by them; it is sufficient testimony that Angelo Guidascarpi is +in the neighbourhood. I should be hunting him now but that I am under +orders to march South-east.” + +The story, as Vittoria knew it, had a different, though yet a dreadful, +colour. + +“I could have hanged Rinaldo,” Count Karl said further. “I suppose the +rascals feared I should use my right, and that is why they sent their +mad baggage of a woman to spare any damage to the family pride. If I +had been a man to enjoy vengeance, the rope would have swung for him. In +spite of provocation, I shall simply shoot the other; I pledge my word +to it. They shall be paid in coin. I demand no interest.” + +Weisspriess prudently avoided her. Wilfrid held aloof. She sat in garden +shade till the bugle sounded. Tyrolese and Italian soldiers were gibing +at her haggard companion when she entered the carriage. Fronting this +dumb creature once more, Vittoria thought of the story of the brothers. +She felt herself reading it from the very page. The woman looked that +evil star incarnate which Laura said they were born under. + +This is in brief the story of the Guidascarpi. + +They were the offspring of a Bolognese noble house, neither wealthy +nor poor. In her early womanhood, Clelia was left to the care of her +brothers. She declined the guardianship of Countess Ammiani because of +her love for them; and the three, with their passion of hatred to the +Austrians inherited from father and mother, schemed in concert to throw +off the Austrian yoke. Clelia had soft features of no great mark; by her +colouring she was beautiful, being dark along the eyebrows, with dark +eyes, and a surpassing richness of Venetian hair. Bologna and Venice +were married in her aspect. Her brothers conceived her to possess such +force of mind that they held no secrets from her. They did not know that +the heart of their sister was struggling with an image of Power when she +uttered hatred of it. She was in truth a woman of a soft heart, with a +most impressionable imagination. + +There were many suitors for the hand of Clelia Guidascarpi, though her +dowry was not the portion of a fat estate. Her old nurse counselled +the brothers that they should consent to her taking a husband. They +fulfilled this duty as one that must be done, and she became sorrowfully +the betrothed of a nobleman of Bologna; from which hour she had no +cheerfulness. The brothers quitted Bologna for Venice, where there was +the bed of a conspiracy. On their return they were shaken by rumours of +their sister's misconduct. An Austrian name was allied to hers in +busy mouths. A lady, their distant relative, whose fame was light, had +withdrawn her from the silent house, and made display of her. Since she +had seen more than an Italian girl should see, the brothers proposed to +the nobleman her betrothed to break the treaty; but he was of a mind to +hurry on the marriage, and recollecting now that she was but a woman, +the brothers fixed a day for her espousals, tenderly, without reproach. +She had the choice of taking the vows or surrendering her hand. Her old +nurse prayed for the day of her espousals to come with a quicker step. + +One night she surprised Count Paul Lenkenstein at Clelia's window. +Rinaldo was in the garden below. He moved to the shadow of a cypress, +and was seen moving by the old nurse. The lover took the single kiss he +had come for, was led through the chamber, and passed unchallenged +into the street. Clelia sat between locked doors and darkened windows, +feeling colder to the brothers she had been reared with than to all +other men upon the earth. They sent for her after a lapse of hours. Her +old nurse was kneeling at their feet. Rinaldo asked for the name of her +lover. She answered with it. Angelo said, “It will be better for you +to die: but if you cannot do so easy a thing as that, prepare widow's +garments.” They forced her to write three words to Count Paul, calling +him to her window at midnight. Rinaldo fetched a priest: Angelo laid out +two swords. An hour before the midnight, Clelia's old nurse raised the +house with her cries. Clelia was stretched dead in her chamber. The +brothers kissed her in turn, and sat, one at her head, one at her feet. +At midnight her lover stood among them. He was gravely saluted, and +bidden to look upon the dead body. Angelo said to him, “Had she lived +you should have wedded her hand. She is gone of her own free choice, and +one of us follows her.” With the sweat of anguish on his forehead, +Count Paul drew sword. The window was barred; six male domestics of the +household held high lights in the chamber; the priest knelt beside one +corpse, awaiting the other. + +Vittoria's imagination could not go beyond that scene, but she looked +out on the brother of the slain youth with great pity, and with a +strange curiosity. The example given by Clelia of the possible love +of an Italian girl for the white uniform, set her thinking whether so +monstrous a fact could ever be doubled in this world. “Could it happen +to me?” she asked herself, and smiled, as she half-fashioned the words +on her lips, “It is a pretty uniform.” + +Her reverie was broken by a hiss of “Traitress!” from the woman +opposite. + +She coloured guiltily, tried to speak, and sat trembling. A divination +of intense hatred had perhaps read the thought within her breast: or it +was a mere outburst of hate. The woman's face was like the wearing away +of smoke from a spot whence shot has issued. Vittoria walked for the +remainder of the day. That fearful companion oppressed her. She felt +that one who followed armies should be cast in such a frame, and now +desired with all her heart to render full obedience to Carlo, and abide +in Brescia, or even in Milan--a city she thought of shyly. + +The march was hurried to the slopes of the Vicentino, for enemies were +thick in this district. Pericles refused to quit the soldiers, though +Count Karl used persuasion. The young nobleman said to Vittoria, “Be +on your guard when you meet my sister Anna. I tell you, we can be as +revengeful as any of you: but you will exonerate me. I do my duty; I +seek to do no more.” + +At an inn that they reached toward evening she saw the innkeeper shoot a +little ball of paper at an Italian corporal, who put his foot on it and +picked it up. The soldier subsequently passed through the ranks of his +comrades, gathering winks and grins. They were to have rested at the +inn, but Count Karl was warned by scouts, which was sufficient to make +Pericles cling to him in avoidance of the volunteers, of whom mainly he +was in terror. He looked ague-stricken. He would not listen to her, or +to reason in any shape. “I am on the sea--shall I trust a boat? I stick +to a ship,” he said. The soldiers marched till midnight. It was arranged +that the carriage should strike off for Schio at dawn. The soldiers +bivouacked on the slope of one of the low undulations falling to the +Vicentino plain. Vittoria spread her cloak, and lay under bare sky, not +suffering the woman to be ejected from the carriage. Hitherto Luigi had +avoided her. Under pretence of doubling Count Karl's cloak as a pillow +for her head, he whispered, “If the signorina hears shots let her lie on +the ground flat as a sheet.” The peacefulness surrounding her precluded +alarm. There was brilliant moonlight, and the host of stars, all dim; +and first they beckoned her up to come away from trouble, and then, +through long gazing, she had the fancy that they bent and swam about +her, making her feel that she lay in the hollows of a warm hushed sea. +She wished for her lover. + +Men and officers were lying at a stone's-throw distant. The Tyrolese +had lit a fire for cooking purposes, by which four of them stood, and, +lifting hands, sang one of their mountain songs, that seemed to her to +spring like clear water into air, and fall wavering as a feather falls, +or the light about a stone in water. It lulled her to a half-sleep, +during which she fancied hearing a broad imitation of a cat's-call from +the mountains, that was answered out of the camp, and a talk of officers +arose in connection with the response, and subsided. The carriage was +in the shadows of the fire. In a little while Luigi and the driver began +putting the horses to, and she saw Count Karl and Weisspriess go up +to Luigi, who declared loudly that it was time. The woman inside was +aroused. Weisspriess helped to drag her out. Luigi kept making much +noise, and apologized for it by saying that he desired to awaken +his master, who was stretched in a secure circle among the Tyrolese. +Presently Vittoria beheld the woman's arms thrown out free; the next +minute they were around the body of Weisspriess, and a shrewd cry issued +from Count Karl. Shots rang from the outposts; the Tyrolese sprang to +arms; “Sandra!” was shouted by Pericles; and once more she heard the +'Venite fratelli!' of the bull's voice, and a stream of volunteers +dashed at the Tyrolese with sword and dagger and bayonet. The +Austro-Italians stood in a crescent line--the ominous form of incipient +military insubordination. Their officers stormed at them, and called for +Count Karl and for Weisspriess. The latter replied like a man stifling, +but Count Karl's voice was silent. + +“Weisspriess! here, to me!” the captain sang out in Italian. + +“Ammiani! here, to me!” was replied. + +Vittoria struck her hands together in electrical gladness at her lover's +voice and name. It rang most cheerfully. Her home was in the conflict +where her lover fought, and she muttered with ecstasy, “We have met! +we have met!” The sound of the keen steel, so exciting to dream of, +paralyzed her nerves in a way that powder, more terrible for a woman's +imagination, would not have done, and she could only feebly advance. It +was a spacious moonlight, but the moonlight appeared to have got of a +brassy hue to her eyes, though the sparkle of the steel was white; and +she felt too, and wondered at it, that the cries and the noise went to +her throat, as if threatening to choke her. Very soon she found herself +standing there, watching for the issue of the strife, almost as dead as +a weight in scales, incapable of clear vision. + +Matched against the Tyrolese alone, the volunteers had an equal fight +in point of numbers, and the advantage of possessing a leader; for Count +Karl was down, and Weisspriess was still entangled in the woman's arms. +When at last Wilfrid got him free, the unsupported Tyrolese were giving +ground before Carlo Ammiani and his followers. These fought with stern +fury, keeping close up to their enemy, rarely shouting. They presented +something like the line of a classic bow, with its arrow-head; while the +Tyrolese were huddled in groups, and clubbed at them, and fell back for +space, and ultimately crashed upon their betraying brothers in arms, +swinging rifles and flying. The Austro-Italians rang out a Viva for +Italy, and let them fly: they were swept from the scene. + +Vittoria heard her lover addressing his followers. Then he and Angelo +stood over Count Karl, whom she had forgotten. Angelo ran up to her, but +gave place the moment Carlo came; and Carlo drew her by the hand swiftly +to an obscure bend of the rolling ground, and stuck his sword in the +earth, and there put his arms round her and held her fast. + +“Obey me now,” were his first words. + +“Yes,” she answered. + +He was harsh of eye and tongue, not like the gentle youth she had been +torn from at the door of La Scala. + +“Return; make your way to Brescia. My mother is in Brescia. Milan is +hateful. I throw myself into Vicenza. Can I trust you to obey?” + +“Carlo, what evil have you heard of me?” + +“I listen to no tales.” + +“Let me follow you to Vicenza and be your handmaid, my beloved.” + +“Say that you obey.” + +“I have said it.” + +He seemed to shut her in his heart, so closely was she enfolded. + +“Since La Scala,” she murmured; and he bent his lips to her ear, +whispering, “Not one thought of another woman! and never till I die.” + +“And I only of you, Carlo, and for you, my lover, my lover!” + +“You love me absolutely?” + +“I belong to you.” + +“I could be a coward and pray for life to live to hear you say it.” + +“I feel I breathe another life when you are away from me.” + +“You belong to me; you are my own?” + +“You take my voice, beloved.” + +“And when I claim you, I am to have you?” + +“Am I not in your hands?” + +“The very instant I make my claim you will say yes?” + +“I shall not have strength for more than to nod.” + +Carlo shuddered at the delicious image of her weakness. + +“My Sandra! Vittoria, my soul! my bride!” + +“O my Carlo! Do you go to Vicenza? And did you know I was among these +people?” + +“You will hear everything from little Leone Rufo, who is wounded and +accompanies you to Brescia. Speak of nothing. Speak my name, and look at +me. I deserve two minutes of blessedness.” + +“Ah! my dearest, if I am sweet to you, you might have many!” + +“No; they begin to hum a reproach at me already, for I must be marching. +Vicenza will soon bubble on a fire, I suspect. Comfort my mother; she +wants a young heart at her elbow. If she is alone, she feeds on every +rumour; other women scatter in emotions what poisons her. And when my +bride is with her, I am between them.” + +“Yes, Carlo, I will go,” said Vittoria, seeing her duty at last through +tenderness. + +Carlo sprang from her side to meet Angelo, with whom he exchanged some +quick words. The bugle was sounding, and Barto Rizzo audible. Luigi came +to, her, ruefully announcing that the volunteers had sacked the carriage +behaved worse than the Austrians; and that his padrone, the signor +Antonio-Pericles, was off like a gossamer. Angelo induced her to remain +on the spot where she stood till the carriage was seen on the Schio +road, when he led her to it, saying that Carlo had serious work to do. +Count Karl Lenkenstein was lying in the carriage, supported by Wilfrid +and by young Leone Rufo, who sat laughing, with one eye under a +cross-bandage and an arm slung in a handkerchief. Vittoria desired to +wait that she might see her lover once more; but Angelo entreated her +that she should depart, too earnestly to leave her in doubt of there +being good reason for it and for her lover's absence. He pointed to +Wilfrid: “Barto Rizzo captured this man; Carlo has released him. Take +him with you to attend on his superior officer.” She drew Angelo's +observation to the first morning colours over the peaks. He looked up, +and she knew that he remembered that morning of their flight from the +inn. Perhaps he then had the image of his brother in his mind, for the +colours seemed to be plucking at his heart, and he said, “I have lost +him.” + +“God help you, my friend!” said Vittoria, her throat choking. + +Angelo pointed at the insensible nobleman: “These live. I do not grudge +him his breath or his chances; but why should these men take so much +killing? Weisspriess has risen, as though I struck the blow of a babe. +But we one shot does for us! Nevertheless, signorina,” Angelo smiled +firmly, “I complain of nothing while we march forward.” + +He kissed his hand to her, and turned back to his troop. The carriage +was soon under the shadows of the mountains. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +EPISODES OF THE REVOLT AND THE WAR THE DEEDS OF BARTO RIZZO--THE MEETING +AT ROVEREDO + +At Schio there was no medical attendance to be obtained for Count Karl, +and he begged so piteously to be taken on to Roveredo, that, on his +promising to give Leone Rufo a pass, Vittoria decided to work her way +round to Brescia by the Alpine route. She supposed Pericles to have gone +off among the Tyrolese, and wished in her heart that Wilfrid had gone +likewise, for he continued to wear that look of sad stupefaction which +was the harshest reproach to her. Leone was unconquerably gay in spite +of his wounds. He narrated the doings of the volunteers, with proud +eulogies of Carlo Ammiani's gallant leadership; but the devices of Barto +Rizzo appeared to have struck his imagination most. “He is positively a +cat--a great cat,” Leone said. “He can run a day; he can fast a week; +he can climb a house; he can drop from a crag; and he never lets go his +hold. If he says a thing to his wife, she goes true as a bullet to the +mark. The two make a complete piece of artillery. We are all for Barto, +though our captain Carlo is often enraged with him. But there's no +getting on without him. We have found that.” + +Rinaldo and Angelo Guidascarpi and Barto Rizzo had done many daring +feats. They had first, heading about a couple of dozen out of a force +of sixty, endeavoured to surprise the fortress Rocca d'Anfo in Lake +Idro--an insane enterprise that touched on success, and would have been +an achievement had all the men who followed them been made of the same +desperate stuff. Beaten off, they escaped up the Val di Ledro, and +secretly entered Trent, where they hoped to spread revolt, but the +Austrian commandant knew what a quantity of dry wood was in the city, +and stamped his heel on sparks. A revolt was prepared notwithstanding +the proclamation of imprisonment and death. Barto undertook to lead +a troop against the Buon Consiglio barracks, while Angelo and +Rinaldo cleared the ramparts. It chanced, whether from treachery or +extra-vigilance was unknown, that the troops paid domiciliary visits an +hour before the intended outbreak, and the three were left to accomplish +their task alone. They remained in the city several days, hunted from +house to house, and finally they were brought to bay at night on the +roof of a palace where the Lenkenstein ladies were residing. Barto +took his dagger between his teeth and dropped to the balcony of Lena's +chamber. The brothers soon after found the rooftrap opened to them, and +Lena and Anna conducted them to the postern-door. There Angelo asked +whom they had to thank. The terrified ladies gave their name; upon +hearing which, Rinaldo turned and said that he would pay for a +charitable deed to the extent of his power, and would not meanly allow +them to befriend persons who were to continue strangers to them. He gave +the name of Guidascarpi, and relieved his brother, as well as himself, +of a load of obligation, for the ladies raised wild screams on the +instant. In falling from the walls to the road, Rinaldo hurt his foot. +Barto lifted him on his back, and journeyed with him so till at the +appointed place he met his wife, who dressed the foot, and led them +out of the line of pursuit, herself bending under the beloved load. Her +adoration of Rinaldo was deep as a mother's, pure as a virgin's, fiery +as a saint's. Leone Rufo dwelt on it the more fervidly from seeing +Vittoria's expression of astonishment. The woman led them to a cave in +the rocks, where she had stored provision and sat two days expecting the +signal from Trent. They saw numerous bands of soldiers set out along the +valleys--merry men whom it was Barto's pleasure to beguile by shouts, as +a relief for his parched weariness upon the baking rock. Accident made +it an indiscretion. A glass was levelled at them by a mounted officer, +and they had quickly to be moving. Angelo knew the voice of Weisspriess +in the word of command to the soldiers, and the call to him to +surrender. Weisspriess followed them across the mountain track, +keeping at their heels, though they doubled and adopted all possible +contrivances to shake him off. He was joined by Count Karl Lenkenstein +on the day when Carlo Ammiani encountered them, with the rear of +Colonel Corte's band marching for Vicenza. In the collision between +the Austrians and the volunteers, Rinaldo was taken fighting upon his +knee-cap. Leone cursed the disabled foot which had carried the hero in +action, to cast him at the mercy of his enemies; but recollection of +that sight of Rinaldo fighting far ahead and alone, half-down-like a +scuttled ship, stood like a flower in the lad's memory. The volunteers +devoted themselves to liberate or avenge him. It was then that Barto +Rizzo sent his wife upon her mission. Leone assured Vittoria that Angelo +was aware of its nature, and approved it--hoped that the same might +be done for himself. He shook his head when she asked if Count Ammiani +approved it likewise. + +“Signorina, Count Ammiani has a grudge against Barto, though he can't +help making use of him. Our captain Carlo is too much of a mere soldier. +He would have allowed Rinaldo to be strung up, and Barto does not owe +him obedience in those things.” + +“But why did this Barto Rizzo employ a woman's hand?” + +“The woman was capable. No man could have got permission to move freely +among the rascal Austrians, even in the character of a deserter. She +did, and she saved him from the shame of execution. And besides, it was +her punishment. You are astonished? Barto Rizzo punishes royally. He +never forgives, and he never persecutes; he waits for his opportunity. +That woman disobeyed him once--once only; but once was enough. +It occurred in Milan, I believe. She released an Austrian, or did +something--I don't know the story exactly--and Barto said to her, 'Now +you can wash out your crime and send your boy to heaven unspotted, with +one blow.' I saw her set out to do it. She was all teeth and eyes, like +a frightened horse; she walked like a Muse in a garden.” + +Vittoria discovered that her presence among the Austrians had been known +to Carlo. Leone alluded slightly to Barto Rizzo's confirmed suspicion +of her, saying that it was his weakness to be suspicious of women. The +volunteers, however, were all in her favour, and had jeered at Barto on +his declaring that she might, in proof of her willingness to serve the +cause, have used her voice for the purpose of subjugating the wavering +Austro-Italians, who wanted as much coaxing as women. Count Karl had +been struck to earth by Barto Rizzo. “Not with his boasted neatness, I +imagine,” Leone said. In fact, the dagger had grazed an ivory portrait +of a fair Italian head wreathed with violets in Count Karl's breast. + +Vittoria recognized the features of Violetta d'Isorella as the original +of the portrait. + +They arrived at Roveredo late in the evening. The wounded man again +entreated Vittoria to remain by him till a messenger should bring one +of his sisters from Trent. “See,” she said to Leone, “how I give grounds +for suspicion of me; I nurse an enemy.” + +“Here is a case where Barto is distinctly to blame,” the lad replied. +“The poor fellow must want nursing, for he can't smoke.” + +Anna von Lenkenstein came from Trent to her brother's summons. Vittoria +was by his bedside, and the sufferer had fallen asleep with his head +upon her arm. Anna looked upon this scene with more hateful amazement +than her dull eyelids could express. She beckoned imperiously for her +to come away, but Vittoria would not allow him to be disturbed, and Anna +sat and faced her. The sleep was long. The eyes of the two women met +from time to time, and Vittoria thought that Barto Rizzo's wife, though +more terrible, was pleasanter to behold, and less brutal, than Anna. +The moment her brother stirred, Anna repeated her imperious gesture, +murmuring, “Away! out of my sight!” With great delicacy of touch she +drew the arm from the pillow and thrust it back, and then motioning in +an undisguised horror, said, “Go.” Vittoria rose to go. + +“Is it my Lena?” came from Karl's faint lips. + +“It is your Anna.” + +“I should have known,” he moaned. + +Vittoria left them. + +Some hours later, Countess Lena appeared, bringing a Trentino doctor. +She said when she beheld Vittoria, “Are you our evil genius, then?” + Vittoria felt that she must necessarily wear that aspect to them. + +Still greater was Lena's amazement when she looked on Wilfrid. She +passed him without a sign. + +Vittoria had to submit to an interview with both sisters before her +departure. Apart from her distress on their behalf, they had always +seemed as very weak, flippant young women to her, and she could have +smiled in her heart when Anna pointed to a day of retribution in the +future. + +“I shall not seek to have you assassinated,” Anna said; “do not suppose +that I mean the knife or the pistol. But your day will come, and I can +wait for it. You murdered my brother Paul: you have tried to murder +my brother Karl. I wish you to leave this place convinced of one +thing:--you shall be repaid for it.” + +There was no direct allusion either to Weisspriess or to Wilfrid. + +Lena spoke of the army. “You think our cause is ruined because we have +insurrection on all sides of us: you do not know our army. We can fight +the Hungarians with one hand, and you Italians with the other--with a +little finger. On what spot have we given way? We have to weep, it is +true; but tears do not testify to defeat; and already I am inclined to +pity those fools who have taken part against us. Some have experienced +the fruits of their folly.” + +This was the nearest approach to a hint at Wilfrid's misconduct. + +Lena handed Leone's pass to Vittoria, and drawing out a little pocket +almanac, said, “You proceed to Milan, I presume. I do not love your +society; mademoiselle Belloni or Campa: yet I do not mind making an +appointment--the doctor says a month will set my brother on his feet +again,--I will make an appointment to meet you in Milan or Como, or +anywhere in your present territories, during the month of August. That +affords time for a short siege and two pitched battles.” + +She appeared to be expecting a retort. + +Vittoria replied, “I could beg one thing on my knees of you, Countess +Lena.” + +“And that is--?” Lena threw her head up superbly. + +“Pardon my old friend the service he did me through friendship.” + +The sisters interchanged looks. Lena flushed angrily. + +Anna said, “The person to whom you allude is here.” + +“He is attending on your brother.” + +“Did he help this last assassin to escape, perchance?” + +Vittoria sickened at the cruel irony, and felt that she had perhaps done +ill in beginning to plead for Wilfrid. + +“He is here; let him speak for himself: but listen to him, Countess +Lena.” + +“A dishonourable man had better be dumb,” interposed Anna. + +“Ah! it is I who have offended you.” + +“Is that his excuse?” + +Vittoria kept her eyes on the fiercer sister, who now declined to speak. + +“I will not excuse my own deeds; perhaps I cannot. We Italians are in a +hurricane; I cannot reflect. It may be that I do not act more thinkingly +than a wild beast.” + +“You have spoken it,” Anna exclaimed. + +“Countess Lena, he fights in your ranks as a common soldier. He +encounters more than a common soldier's risks.” + +“The man is brave,--we knew that,” said Anna. + +“He is more than brave, he is devoted. He fights against us, without +hope of reward from you. Have I utterly ruined him?” + +“I imagine that you may regard it as a fact that you have utterly ruined +him,” said Anna, moving to break up the parting interview. Lena turned +to follow her. + +“Ladies, if it is I who have hardened your hearts, I am more guilty than +I thought.” Vittoria said no more. She knew that she had been speaking +badly, or ineffectually, by a haunting flatness of sound, as of +an unstrung instrument, in her ears: she was herself unstrung and +dispirited, while the recollection of Anna's voice was like a sombre +conquering monotony on a low chord, with which she felt insufficient to +compete. + +Leone was waiting in the carriage to drive to the ferry across the +Adige. There was news in Roveredo of the king's advance upon Rivoli; +and Leone sat trying to lift and straighten out his wounded arm, with +grimaces of laughter at the pain of the effort, which resolutely refused +to acknowledge him to be an able combatant. At the carriage-door Wilfrid +bowed once over Vittoria's hand. + +“You see that,” Anna remarked to her sister. + +“I should have despised him if he had acted indifference,” replied Lena. + +She would have suspected him--that was what her heart meant; the artful +show of indifference had deceived her once. The anger within her +drew its springs much more fully from his refusal to respond to her +affection, when she had in a fit of feminine weakness abased herself +before him on the night of the Milanese revolt, than from the +recollection of their days together in Meran. She had nothing of her +sister's unforgivingness. And she was besides keenly curious to discover +the nature of the charm Vittoria threw on him, and not on him solely. +Vittoria left Wilfrid to better chances than she supposed. “Continue +fighting with your army,” she said, when they parted. The deeper shade +which traversed his features told her that, if she pleased, her sway +might still be active; but she had no emotion to spare for sentimental +regrets. She asked herself whether a woman who has cast her lot in +scenes of strife does not lose much of her womanhood and something of +her truth; and while her imagination remained depressed, her answer +was sad. In that mood she pitied Wilfrid with a reckless sense of her +inability to repay him for the harm she had done him. The tragedies +written in fresh blood all about her, together with that ever-present +image of the fate of Italy hanging in the balance, drew her away from +personal reflections. She felt as one in a war-chariot, who has not time +to cast more than a glance on the fallen. At the place where the ferry +is, she was rejoiced by hearing positive news of the proximity of the +Royal army. There were none to tell her that Charles Albert had here +made his worst move by leaving Vicenza to the operations of the enemy, +that he might become master of a point worthless when Vicenza fell into +the enemy's hands. The old Austrian Field-Marshal had eluded him at +Mantua on that very night when Vittoria had seen his troops in motion. +The daring Austrian flank-march on Vicenza, behind the fortresses of the +Quadrilateral, was the capital stroke of the campaign. But the presence +of a Piedmontese vanguard at Rivoli flushed the Adige with confidence, +and Vittoria went on her way sharing the people's delight. She reached +Brescia to hear that Vicenza had fallen. The city was like a landscape +smitten black by the thunder-cloud. Vittoria found Countess Ammiani at +her husband's tomb, stiff, colourless, lifeless as a monument attached +to the tomb. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +CLOSE OF THE LOMBARD CAMPAIGN--VITTORIA'S PERPLEXITY + +The fall of Vicenza turned a tide that had overflowed its barriers with +force enough to roll it to the Adriatic. From that day it was as if a +violent wind blew East over Lombardy; flood and wind breaking here +and there a tree, bowing everything before them. City, fortress, and +battle-field resisted as the eddy whirls. Venice kept her brave colours +streaming aloft in a mighty grasp despite the storm, but between Venice +and Milan there was this unutterable devastation,--so sudden a change, +so complete a reversal of the shield, that the Lombards were at first +incredulous even in their agony, and set their faces against it as at a +monstrous eclipse, as though the heavens were taking false oath of its +being night when it was day. From Vicenza and Rivoli, to Sommacampagna, +and across Monte Godio to Custozza, to Volta on the right of the Mincio, +up to the gates of Milan, the line of fire travelled, with a fantastic +overbearing swiftness that, upon the map, looks like the zig-zag +elbowing of a field-rocket. Vicenza fell on the 11th of June; the +Austrians entered Milan on the 6th of August. Within that short time the +Lombards were struck to the dust. + +Countess Ammiani quitted Brescia for Bergamo before the worst had +happened; when nothing but the king's retreat upon the Lombard capital, +after the good fight at Volta, was known. According to the king's +proclamation the Piedmontese army was to defend Milan, and hope was not +dead. Vittoria succeeded in repressing all useless signs of grief in +the presence of the venerable lady, who herself showed none, but simply +recommended her accepted daughter to pray daily. “I can neither confess +nor pray,” Vittoria said to the priest, a comfortable, irritable +ecclesiastic, long attached to the family, and little able to deal with +this rebel before Providence, that would not let her swollen spirit +be bled. Yet she admitted to him that the countess possessed resources +which she could find nowhere; and she saw the full beauty of such +inimitable grave endurance. Vittoria's foolish trick of thinking for +herself made her believe, nevertheless, that the countess suffered +more than she betrayed, was less consoled than her spiritual comforter +imagined. She continued obstinate and unrepentant, saying, “If my +punishment is to come, it will at least bring experience with it, and I +shall know why I am punished. The misery now is that I do not know, and +do not see, the justice of the sentence.” + +Countess Ammiani thought better of her case than the priest did; or +she was more indulgent, or half indifferent. This girl was Carlo's +choice;--a strange choice, but the times were strange, and the girl was +robust. The channels of her own and her husband's house were drying on +all sides; the house wanted resuscitating. There was promise that the +girl would bear children of strong blood. Countess Ammiani would not for +one moment have allowed the spiritual welfare of the children to hang +in dubitation, awaiting their experience of life; but a certain +satisfaction was shown in her faint smile when her confessor lamented +over Vittoria's proud stony state of moral revolt. She said to her +accepted daughter, “I shall expect you to be prepared to espouse my son +as soon as I have him by my side;” nor did Vittoria's silent bowing of +her face assure her that strict obedience was implied. Precise words--“I +will,” and “I will not fail”--were exacted. The countess showed some +emotion after Vittoria had spoken. “Now, may God end this war quickly, +if it is to go against us,” she exclaimed, trembling in her chair +visibly a half-minute, with dropped eyelids and lips moving. + +Carlo had sent word that he would join his mother as early as he was +disengaged from active service, and meantime requested her to proceed to +a villa on Lago Maggiore. Vittoria obtained permission from the countess +to order the route of the carriage through Milan, where she wished to +take up her mother and her maid Giacinta. For other reasons she would +have avoided the city. The thought of entering it was painful with the +shrewdest pain. Dante's profoundly human line seemed branded on the +forehead of Milan. + +The morning was dark when they drove through the streets of Bergamo. +Passing one of the open places, Vittoria beheld a great concourse of +volunteer youth and citizens, all of them listening to the voice of one +who stood a few steps above them holding a banner. She gave an outcry +of bitter joy. It was the Chief. On one side of him was Agostino, in the +midst of memorable heads that were unknown to her. The countess refused +to stay, though Vittoria strained her hands together in extreme entreaty +that she might for a few moments hear what the others were hearing. “I +speak for my son, and I forbid it,” Countess Ammiani said. Vittoria fell +back and closed her eyes to cherish the vision. All those faces raised +to the one speaker under the dark sky were beautiful. He had breathed +some new glory of hope in them, making them shine beneath the overcast +heavens, as when the sun breaks from an evening cloud and flushes the +stems of a company of pine-trees. + +Along the road to Milan she kept imagining his utterance until her heart +rose with music. A delicious stream of music, thin as poor tears, passed +through her frame, like a life reviving. She reached Milan in a mood to +bear the idea of temporary defeat. Music had forsaken her so long that +celestial reassurance seemed to return with it. + +Her mother was at Zotti's, very querulous, but determined not to +leave the house and the few people she knew. She had, as she told her +daughter, fretted so much on her account that she hardly knew whether +she was glad to see her. Tea, of course, she had given up all thoughts +of; but now coffee was rising, and the boasted sweet bread of Lombardy +was something to look at! She trusted that Emilia would soon think of +singing no more, and letting people rest: she might sing when she wanted +money. A letter recently received from Mr. Pericles said that Italy was +her child's ruin, and she hoped Emilia was ready to do as he advised, +and hurry to England, where singing did not upset people, and people +lived like real Christians, not----Vittoria flapped her hand, and +would not hear of the unchristian crimes of the South. As regarded the +expected defence of Milan, the little woman said, that if it brought on +a bombardment, she would call it unpardonable wickedness, and only hoped +that her daughter would repent. + +Zotti stood by, interpreting the English to himself by tones. “The +amiable donnina is not of our persuasion,” he observed. “She remains +dissatisfied with patriotic Milan. I have exhibited to her my dabs of +bread through all the processes of making and baking. It is in vain. She +rejects analogy. She is wilful as a principessina: 'Tis so! 'tis not so! +'tis my will! be silent, thou! Signora, I have been treated in that way +by your excellent mother.” + +“Zotti has not been paid for three weeks, and he certainly has not +mentioned it or looked it, I will say, Emilia.” + +“Zotti has had something to think of during the last three weeks,” said +Vittoria, touching him kindly on the arm. + +The confectioner lifted his fingers and his big brown eyes after them, +expressive of the unutterable thoughts. He informed her that he had laid +in a stock of flour, in the expectation that Carlo Alberto would defend +the city: The Milanese were ready to aid him, though some, as Zotti +confessed, had ceased to effervesce; and a great number who were +perfectly ready to fight regarded his tardy appeal to Italian patriotism +very coldly. Zotti set out in person to discover Giacinta. The girl +could hardly fetch her breath when she saw her mistress. She was in +Laura's service, and said that Laura had brought a wounded Englishman +from the field of Custozza. Vittoria hurried to Laura, with whom she +found Merthyr, blue-white as a corpse, having been shot through the +body. His sister was in one of the Lombard hamlets, unaware of his fall; +Beppo had been sent to her. + +They noticed one another's embrowned complexions, but embraced silently. +“Twice widowed!” Laura said when they sat together. Laura hushed all +speaking of the war or allusion to a single incident of the miserable +campaign, beyond the bare recital of Vittoria's adventures; yet when +Vicenza by chance was mentioned, she burst out: “They are not cities, +they are living shrieks. They have been made impious for ever. Burn them +to ashes, that they may not breathe foul upon heaven!” She had clung to +the skirts of the army as far as the field of Custozza. “He,” she said, +pointing to the room where Merthyr lay,--“he groans less than the others +I have nursed. Generally, when they looked at me, they appeared obliged +to recollect that it was not I who had hurt them. Poor souls! some ended +in great torment. 'I think of them as the happiest; for pain is a cloak +that wraps you about, and I remember one middle-aged man who died softly +at Custozza, and said, 'Beaten!' To take that thought as your travelling +companion into the gulf, must be worse than dying of agony; at least, I +think so.” + +Vittoria was too well used to Laura's way of meeting disaster to expect +from her other than this ironical fortitude, in which the fortitude +leaned so much upon the irony. What really astonished her was the +conception Laura had taken of the might of Austria. Laura did not +directly speak of it, but shadowed it in allusive hints, much as if +she had in her mind the image of an iron roller going over a field of +flowers--hateful, imminent, irresistible. She felt as a leaf that has +been flying before the gale. + +Merthyr's wound was severe: Vittoria could not leave him. Her resolution +to stay in Milan brought her into collision with Countess Ammiani, when +the countess reminded her of her promise, sedately informing her that +she was no longer her own mistress, and had a primary duty to fulfil. +She offered to wait three days, or until the safety of the wounded man +was medically certified to. It was incomprehensible to her that Vittoria +should reject her terms; and though it was true that she would not have +listened to a reason, she was indignant at not hearing one given in +mitigation of the offence. She set out alone on her journey, deeply +hurt. The reason was a feminine sentiment, and Vittoria was naturally +unable to speak it. She shrank with pathetic horror from the thought of +Merthyr's rising from his couch to find her a married woman, and desired +most earnestly that her marriage should be witnessed by him. Young women +will know how to reconcile the opposition of the sentiment. Had Merthyr +been only slightly wounded, and sound enough to seem to be able to bear +a bitter shock, she would not have allowed her personal feelings to +cause chagrin to the noble lady. The sight of her dear steadfast friend +prostrate in the cause of Italy, and who, if he lived to rise again, +might not have his natural strength to bear the thought of her loss with +his old brave firmness, made it impossible for her to act decisively in +one direct line of conduct. + +Countess Ammiani wrote brief letters from Luino and Pallanza on Lago +Maggiore. She said that Carlo was in the Como mountains; he would expect +to find his bride, and would accuse his mother; “but his mother will be +spared those reproaches,” she added, “if the last shot fired kills, as +it generally does, the bravest and the dearest.” + +“If it should!”--the thought rose on a quick breath in Vittoria's bosom, +and the sentiment which held her away dispersed like a feeble smoke, and +showed her another view of her features. She wept with longing for love +and dependence. She was sick of personal freedom, tired of the exercise +of her will, only too eager to give herself to her beloved. The +blessedness of marriage, of peace and dependence, came on her +imagination like a soft breeze from a hidden garden, like sleep. But +this very longing created the resistance to it in the depths of her +soul. 'There was a light as of reviving life, or of pain comforted, when +it was she who was sitting by Merthyr's side, and when at times she saw +the hopeless effort of his hand to reach to hers, or during the long +still hours she laid her head on his pillow, and knew that he breathed +gratefully. The sweetness of helping him, and of making his breathing +pleasant to him, closed much of the world which lay beyond her windows +to her thoughts, and surprised her with an unknown emotion, so strange +to her that when it first swept up her veins she had the fancy of her +having been touched by a supernatural hand, and heard a flying accord of +instruments. She was praying before she knew what prayer was. A crucifix +hung over Merthyr's head. She had looked on it many times, and looked on +it still, without seeing more than the old sorrow. In the night it was +dim. She found herself trying to read the features of the thorn-crowned +Head in the solitary night. She and it were alone with a life that +was faint above the engulphing darkness. She prayed for the life, and +trembled, and shed tears, and would have checked them; they seemed to +be bearing away her little remaining strength. The tears streamed. No +answer was given to her question, “Why do I weep?” She wept when Merthyr +had passed the danger, as she had wept when the hours went by, with +shrouded visages; and though she felt the difference m the springs of +her tears, she thought them but a simple form of weakness showing shade +and light. + +These tears were a vanward wave of the sea to follow; the rising of her +voice to heaven was no more than a twitter of the earliest dawn before +the coming of her soul's outcry. + +“I have had a weeping fit,” she thought, and resolved to remember it +tenderly, as being associated with her friend's recovery, and a singular +masterful power absolutely to look on the Austrians marching up the +streets of Milan, and not to feel the surging hatred, or the nerveless +despair, which she had supposed must be her alternatives. + +It is a mean image to say that the entry of the Austrians into the +reconquered city was like a river of oil permeating a lake of vinegar, +but it presents the fact in every sense. They demanded nothing more than +submission, and placed a gentle foot upon the fallen enemy; and wherever +they appeared they were isolated. The deepest wrath of the city was, +nevertheless, not directed against them, but against Carlo Alberto, +who had pledged his honour to defend it, and had forsaken it. Vittoria +committed a public indiscretion on the day when the king left Milan to +its fate: word whereof was conveyed to Carlo Ammiani, and he wrote to +her. + +“It is right that I should tell you what I have heard,” the letter said. +“I have heard that my bride drove up to the crowned traitor, after he +had unmasked himself, and when he was quitting the Greppi palace, and +that she kissed his hand before the people--poor bleeding people of +Milan! This is what I hear in the Val d'Intelvi:--that she despised +the misery and just anger of the people, and, by virtue of her name and +mine, obtained a way for him. How can she have acted so as to give a +colour to this infamous scandal? True or false, it does not affect my +love for her. Still, my dearest, what shall I say? You keep me divided +in two halves. My heart is out of me; and if I had a will, I think I +should be harsh with you. You are absent from my mother at a time when +we are about to strike another blow. Go to her. It is kindness; it is +charity: I do not say duty. I remember that I did write harshly to you +from Brescia. Then our march was so clear in view that a little thing +ruffled me. Was it a little thing? But to applaud the Traitor now! To +uphold him who has spilt our blood only to hand the country over to the +old gaolers! He lent us his army like a Jew, for huge interest. Can +you not read him? If not, cease, I implore you, to think at all for +yourself. + +“Is this a lover's letter? I know that my beloved will see the love in +it. To me your acts are fair and good as the chronicle of a saint. I +find you creating suspicion--almost justifying it in others, and putting +your name in the mouth of a madman who denounces you. I shall not speak +more of him. Remember that my faith in you is unchangeable, and I pray +you to have the same in me. + +“I sent you a greeting from the Chief. He marched in the ranks from +Bergamo. I saw him on the line of march strip off his coat to shelter a +young lad from the heavy rain. He is not discouraged; none are who have +been near him. + +“Angelo is here, and so is our Agostino; and I assure you he loads and +fires a carbine much more deliberately than he composes a sonnet. I am +afraid that your adored Antonio-Pericles fared badly among our fellows, +but I could gather no particulars. + +“Oh! the bright two minutes when I held you right in my heart. That spot +on the Vicentino is alone unclouded. If I live I will have that bit of +ground. I will make a temple of it. I could reach it blindfolded.” + +A townsman of Milan brought this letter to Vittoria. She despatched +Luigi with her reply, which met the charge in a straightforward +affirmative. + +“I was driving to Zotti's by the Greppi palace, when I saw the king come +forth, and the people hooted him. I stood up, and petitioned to kiss his +hand. The people knew me. They did not hoot any more for some time. + +“So that you have heard the truth, and you must judge me by it. I cannot +even add that I am sorry, though I strive to wish that I had not been +present. I might wish it really, if I did not feel it to be a cowardly +wish. + +“Oh, my Carlo! my lover! my husband! you would not have me go against +my nature? I have seen the king upon the battle-field. He has deigned to +speak to me of Italy and our freedom. I have seen him facing our enemy; +and to see him hooted by the people, and in misfortune and with sad +eyes!--he looked sad and nothing else--and besides, I am sure I know +the king. I mean that I understand him. I am half ashamed to write so +boldly, even to you. I say to myself you should know me, at least; and +if I am guilty of a piece of vanity, you should know that also. Carlo +Alberto is quite unlike other men. He worships success as, much; but +they are not, as he is, so much bettered by adversity. Indeed I do +not believe that he has exact intentions of any sort, or ever had the +intention to betray us, or has done so in reality, that is, meaningly, +of his own will. Count Medole and his party did, as you know, offer +Lombardy to him; and Venice gave herself--brave, noble Venice! Oh! if we +two were there--Venice has England's sea-spirit. But, did we not flatter +the king? And ask yourself, my Carlo, could a king move in such +an enterprise as a common person? Ought we not to be in union with +Sardinia? How can we be if we reject her king? Is it not the only +positive army that, we can look to--I mean regular army? Should we not; +make some excuses for one who is not in our position? + +“I feel that I push my questions like waves that fall and cannot get +beyond--they crave so for answers agreeing to them. This should make +me doubt myself, perhaps; but they crowd again, and seem so conclusive +until I have written them down. I am unworthy to struggle with your +intellect; but I say to myself, how unworthy of you I should be if I +did not use my own, such as it is! The poor king; had to conclude an +armistice to save his little kingdom. Perhaps we ought to think of that +sternly. My heart is; filled with pity. + +“It cannot but be right that you should know the worst; of me. I call +you my husband, and tremble to be permitted to lean my head on your +bosom for hours, my sweet lover! And yet my cowardice, if I had let the +king go by without a reverential greeting from me, in his adversity, +would have rendered me insufferable to myself. You are hearing me, and +I am compelled to say, that rather than behave so basely I would forfeit +your love, and be widowed till death should offer us for God to join us. +Does your face change to me? + +“Dearest, and I say it when the thought of you sets me almost swooning. +I find my hands clasped, and I am muttering I know not what, and I am +blushing. The ground seems to rock; I can barely breathe; my heart is +like a bird caught in the hands of a cruel boy: it will not rest. I fear +everything. I hear a whisper, 'Delay not an instant!' and it is like +a furnace; 'Hasten to him! Speed!' and I seem to totter forward and +drop--I think I have lost you--I am like one dead. + +“I remain here to nurse our dear friend Merthyr. For that reason I am +absent from your mother. It is her desire that we should be married. + +“Soon, soon, my own soul! + +“I seem to be hanging on a tree for you, swayed by such a teazing wind. + +“Oh, soon! or I feel that I shall hate any vestige of will that I have +in this head of mine. Not in the heart--it is not there! + +“And sometimes I am burning to sing. The voice leaps to my lips; it is +quite like a thing that lives apart--my prisoner. + +“It is true, Laura is here with Merthyr. + +“Could you come at once?--not here, but to Pallanza? We shall both make +our mother happy. This she wishes, this she lives for, this consoles +her--and oh, this gives me peace! Yes, Merthyr is recovering! I can +leave him without the dread I had; and Laura confesses to the feminine +sentiment, if her funny jealousy of a rival nurse is really simply +feminine. She will be glad of our resolve, I am sure. And then you will +order all my actions; and I shall be certain that they are such as I +would proudly call mine; and I shall be shut away from the world. +Yes; let it be so! Addio. I reserve all sweet names for you. Addio. In +Pallanza:--no not Pallanza--Paradise! + +“Hush! and do not smile at me:--it was not my will, I discover, but my +want of will, that distracted me. + +“See my last signature of--not Vittoria; for I may sign that again and +still be Emilia Alessandra Ammiani. + + “SANDRA BELLONI” + +The letter was sealed; Luigi bore it away, and a brief letter to +Countess Ammiani, in Pallanza, as well. + +Vittoria was relieved of her anxiety concerning Merthyr by the arrival +of Georgiana, who had been compelled to make her way round by Piacenza +and Turin, where she had left Gambier, with Beppo in attendance on him. +Georgiana at once assumed all the duties of head-nurse, and the more +resolutely because of her brother's evident moral weakness in sighing +for the hand of a fickle girl to smooth his pillow. “When he is stronger +you can sit beside him a little,” she said to Vittoria, who surrendered +her post without a struggle, and rarely saw him, though Laura told her +that his frequent exclamation was her name, accompanied by a soft look +at his sister--“which would have stirred my heart like poor old Milan +last March,” Laura added, with a lift of her shoulders. + +Georgiana's icy manner appeared infinitely strange to Vittoria when +she heard from Merthyr that his sister had become engaged to Captain +Gambier. + +“Nothing softens these women,” said Laura, putting Georgiana in a class. + +“I wish you could try the effect of your winning Merthyr,” Vittoria +suggested. + +“I remember that when I went to my husband, I likewise wanted every +woman of my acquaintance to be married.” Laura sighed deeply. “What +is this poor withered body of mine now? It feels like an old volcano, +cindery, with fire somewhere:--a charming bride! My dear, if I live till +my children make me a grandmother, I shall look on the love of men and +women as a toy that I have played with. A new husband? I must be dragged +through the Circles of Dante before I can conceive it, and then I should +loathe the stranger.” + +News came that the volunteers were crushed. It was time for Vittoria +to start for Pallanza, and she thought of her leave-taking; a final +leave-taking, in one sense, to the friends who had cared too much for +her. Laura delicately drew Georgiana aside in the sick-room, which she +would not quit, and alluded to the necessity for Vittoria's departure +without stating exactly wherefore: but Georgiana was a Welshwoman. +Partly to show her accurate power of guessing, and chiefly that she +might reprove Laura's insulting whisper, which outraged and irritated +her as much as if “Oh! your poor brother!” had been exclaimed, she made +display of Merthyr's manly coldness by saying aloud, “You mean, that +she is going to her marriage.” Laura turned her face to Merthyr. He had +striven to rise on his elbow, and had dropped flat in his helplessness. +Big tears were rolling down his cheeks. His articulation failed him, +beyond a reiterated “No, no,” pitiful to hear, and he broke into +childish sobs. Georgiana hurried Laura from the room. By-and-by the +doctor was promptly summoned, and it was Georgiana herself, miserably +humbled, who obtained Vittoria's sworn consent to keep the life in +Merthyr by lingering yet awhile. + +Meantime Luigi brought a letter from Pallanza in Carlo's handwriting. +This was the burden of it: + +“I am here, and you are absent. Hasten!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +A FRESH ENTANGLEMENT + +The Lenkenstein ladies returned to Milan proudly in the path of the +army which they had followed along the city walls on the black March +midnight. The ladies of the Austrian aristocracy generally had to be +exiles from Vienna, and were glad to flock together even in an alien +city. Anna and Lena were aware of Vittoria's residence in Milan, through +the interchange of visits between the Countess of Lenkenstein and her +sister Signora Piaveni. They heard also of Vittoria's prospective and +approaching marriage to Count Ammiani. The Duchess of Graatli, who had +forborne a visit to her unhappy friends, lest her Austrian face should +wound their sensitiveness, was in company with the Lenkensteins one day, +when Irma di Karski called on them. Irma had come from Lago +Maggiore, where she had left her patron, as she was pleased to term +Antonio-Pericles. She was full of chatter of that most worthy man's +deplorable experiences of Vittoria's behaviour to him during the war, +and of many things besides. According to her account, Vittoria had +enticed him from place to place with promises that the next day, and the +next day, and the day after, she would be ready to keep her engagement +to go to London, and at last she had given him the slip and left him to +be plucked like a pullet by a horde of volunteer banditti, out of whose +hands Antonio-Pericles-“one of our richest millionaires in Europe, +certainly our richest amateur,” said Irma--escaped in fit outward +condition for the garden of Eden. + +Count Karl was lying on the sofa, and went into endless invalid's +laughter at the picture presented by Irma of the 'wild man' wanderings +of poor infatuated Pericles, which was exaggerated, though not +intentionally, for Irma repeated the words and gestures of Pericles in +the recital of his tribulations. Being of a somewhat similar physical +organization, she did it very laughably. Irma declared that Pericles was +cured of his infatuation. He had got to Turin, intending to quit Italy +for ever, when--“he met me,” said Irma modestly. + +“And heard that the war was at an end,” Count Karl added. + +“And he has taken the superb Villa Ricciardi, on Lago Maggiore, where he +will have a troupe of singers, and perform operas, in which I believe +I may possibly act as prima donna. The truth is, I would do anything to +prevent him from leaving the country.” + +But Irma had more to say; with “I bear no malice,” she commenced it. The +story she had heard was that Count Ammiani, after plighting himself to +a certain signorina, known as Vittoria Campa, had received tidings that +she was one of those persons who bring discredit on Irma's profession. +“Gifted by nature, I can acknowledge,” said Irma; “but devoured by +vanity--a perfect slave to the appetite for praise; ready to forfeit +anything for flattery! Poor signor Antonio-Pericles!--he knows her.” And +now Count Ammiani, persuaded to reason by his mother, had given her up. +There was nothing more positive, for Irma had seen him in the society of +Countess Violetta d'Isorella. + +Anna and Lena glanced at their brother Karl. + +“I should not allude to what is not notorious,” Irma pursued. “They +are always together. My dear Antonio-Pericles is most amusing in his +expressions of delight at it. For my part, though she served me an evil +turn once,--you will hardly believe, ladies, that in her jealousy of me +she was guilty of the most shameful machinations to get me out of the +way on the night of the first performance of Camilla,--but, for my part, +I bear no malice. The creature is an inveterate rebel, and I dislike her +for that, I do confess.” + +“The signorina Vittoria Campa is my particular and very dear friend,” + said the duchess. + +“She is not the less an inveterate rebel,” said Anna. + +Count Karl gave a long-drawn sigh. “Alas, that she should have brought +discredit on Fraulein di Karski's profession!” + +The duchess hurried straightway to Laura, with whom was Count +Serabiglione, reviewing the present posture of affairs from the +condescending altitudes of one that has foretold it. Laura and Amalia +embraced and went apart. During their absence Vittoria came down to +the count and listened to a familiar illustration of his theory of the +relations which should exist between Italy and Austria, derived from the +friendship of those two women. + +“What I wish you to see, signorina, is that such an alliance is +possible; and, if we supply the brains, as we do, is by no means likely +to be degrading. These bears are absolutely on their knees to us for +good fellowship. You have influence, you have amazing wit, you have +unparalleled beauty, and, let me say it with the utmost sadness, you +have now had experience. Why will you not recognize facts? Italian +unity! I have exposed the fatuity--who listens? Italian freedom! I do +not attempt to reason with my daughter. She is pricked by an envenomed +fly of Satan. Yet, behold her and the duchess! It is the very union I +preach; and I am, I declare to you, signorina, in great danger. I feel +it, but I persist. I am in danger” (Count Serabiglione bowed his head +low) “of the transcendent sin of scorn of my species.” + +The little nobleman swayed deploringly in his chair. “Nothing is so +perilous for a soul's salvation as that. The one sane among madmen! The +one whose reason is left to him among thousands who have forsaken it! I +beg you to realize the idea. The Emperor, as I am given to understand, +is about to make public admission of my services. I shall be all the +more hated. Yet it is a considerable gain. I do not deny that I esteem +it as a promotion for my services. I shall not be the first martyr in +this world, signorina.” + +Count Serabiglione produced a martyr's smile. + +“The profits of my expected posts will be,” he was saying, with a +reckoning eye cast upward into his cranium for accuracy, when Laura +returned, and Vittoria ran out to the duchess. Amalia repeated Irma's +tattle. A curious little twitching of the brows at Violetta d'Isorella's +name marked the reception of it. + +“She is most lovely,” Vittoria said. + +“And absolutely reckless.” + +“She is an old friend of Count Ammiani's.” + +“And you have an old friend here. But the old friend of a young woman--I +need not say further than that it is different.” + +The duchess used the privilege of her affection, and urged Vittoria not +to trifle with her lover's impatience. + +Admitted to the chamber where Merthyr lay, she was enabled to make +allowance for her irresolution. The face of the wounded man was like a +lake-water taking light from Vittoria's presence. + +“This may go on for weeks,” she said to Laura. + +Three days later, Vittoria received an order from the Government to quit +the city within a prescribed number of hours, and her brain was racked +to discover why Laura appeared so little indignant at the barbarous +act of despotism. Laura undertook to break the bad news to Merthyr. The +parting was as quiet and cheerful as, in the opposite degree, Vittoria +had thought it would be melancholy and regretful. “What a Government!” + Merthyr said, and told her to let him hear of any changes. “All changes +that please my friends please me.” + +Vittoria kissed his forehead with one grateful murmur of farewell to the +bravest heart she had ever known. The going to her happiness seemed more +like going to something fatal until she reached the Lago Maggiore. There +she saw September beauty, and felt as if the splendour encircling her +were her bridal decoration. But no bridegroom stood to greet her on +the terrace-steps between the potted orange and citron-trees. Countess +Ammiani extended kind hands to her at arms' length. + +“You have come,” she said. “I hope that it is not too late.” + +Vittoria was a week without sight of her lover: nor did Countess Ammiani +attempt to explain her words, or speak of other than common daily +things. In body and soul Vittoria had taken a chill. The silent blame +resting on her in this house called up her pride, so that she would not +ask any questions; and when Carlo came, she wanted warmth to melt her. +Their meeting was that of two passionless creatures. Carlo kissed her +loyally, and courteously inquired after her health and the health of +friends in Milan, and then he rallied his mother. Agostino had arrived +with him, and the old man, being in one of his soft moods, unvexed by +his conceits, Vittoria had some comfort from him of a dull kind. She +heard Carlo telling his mother that he must go in the morning. Agostino +replied to her quick look at him, “I stay;” and it seemed like a little +saved from the wreck, for she knew that she could speak to Agostino as +she could not to the countess. When his mother prepared to retire, +Carlo walked over to his bride, and repeated rapidly and brightly his +inquiries after friends in Milan. She, with a pure response to his +natural-unnatural manner, spoke of Merthyr Powys chiefly: to which +he said several times, “Dear fellow!” and added, “I shall always love +Englishmen for his sake.” + +This gave her one throb. “I could not leave him, Carlo.” + +“Certainly not, certainly not,” said Carlo. “I should have been happy to +wait on him myself. I was busy; I am still. I dare say you have guessed +that I have a new journal in my head: the Pallanza Iris is to be +the name of it;--to be printed in three colours, to advocate three +principles, in three styles. The Legitimists, the Moderates, and the +Republicans are to proclaim themselves in its columns in prose, poetry, +and hotch-potch. Once an editor, always an editor. The authorities +suspect that something of the sort is about to be planted, so I can only +make occasional visits here:--therefore, as you will believe,”--Carlo +let his voice fall--“I have good reason to hate them still. They may +cease to persecute me soon.” + +He insisted upon lighting his mother to her room. Vittoria and Agostino +sat talking of the Chief and the minor events of the war--of Luciano, +Marco, Giulio, and Ugo Corte--till the conviction fastened on them +that Carlo would not return, when Agostino stood up and said, yawning +wearily, “I'll talk further to you, my child, tomorrow.” + +She begged that it might be now. + +“No; to-morrow,” said he. + +“Now, now!” she reiterated, and brought down a reproof from his +fore-finger. + +“The poetic definition of 'now' is that it is a small boat, my daughter, +in which the female heart is constantly pushing out to sea and sinking. +'To-morrow' is an island in the deeps, where grain grows. When I land +you there, I will talk to you.” + +She knew that he went to join Carlo after he had quitted her. + +Agostino was true to his promise next day. He brought her nearer to what +she had to face, though he did not help her vision much. Carlo had gone +before sunrise. + +They sat on the terrace above the lake, screened from the sunlight by +thick myrtle bushes. Agostino smoked his loosely-rolled cigarettes, and +Vittoria sipped chocolate and looked upward to the summit of Motterone, +with many thoughts and images in her mind. + +He commenced by giving her a love-message from Carlo. “Hold fast to it +that he means it: conduct is never a straight index where the heart's +involved,” said the chuckling old man; “or it is not in times like ours. +You have been in the wrong, and your having a good excuse will not help +you before the deciding fates. Woman that you are! did you not think +that because we were beaten we were going to rest for a very long while, +and that your Carlo of yesterday was going to be your Carlo of to-day?” + +Vittoria tacitly confessed to it. + +“Ay,” he pursued, “when you wrote to him in the Val d'Intelvi, you +supposed you had only to say, 'I am ready,' which was then the case. You +made your summer and left the fruits to hang, and now you are astounded +that seasons pass and fruits drop. You should have come to this place, +if but for a pair of days, and so have fixed one matter in the chapter. +This is how the chapter has run on. I see I talk to a stunned head; you +are thinking that Carlo's love for you can't have changed: and it has +not, but occasion has gone and times have changed. Now listen. The +countess desired the marriage. Carlo could not go to you in Milan with +the sword in his hand. Therefore you had to come to him. He waited for +you, perhaps for his own preposterous lover's sake as much as to make +his mother's heart easy. If she loses him she loses everything, unless +he leaves a wife to her care and the hope that her House will not be +extinct, which is possibly not much more the weakness of old aristocracy +than of human nature. + +“Meantime, his brothers in arms had broken up and entered Piedmont, +and he remained waiting for you still. You are thinking that he had +not waited a month. But if four months finished Lombardy, less than one +month is quite sufficient to do the same for us little beings. He met +the Countess d'Isorella here. You have to thank her for seeing him at +all, so don't wrinkle your forehead yet. Luciano Romara is drilling +his men in Piedmont; Angelo Guidascarpi has gone there. Carlo was +considering it his duty to join Luciano, when he met this lady, and she +has apparently succeeded in altering his plans. Luciano and his band +will go to Rome. Carlo fancies that another blow will be struck for +Lombardy. This lady should know; the point is, whether she can be +trusted. She persists in declaring that Carlo's duty is to remain, +and--I cannot tell how, for I am as a child among women--she has +persuaded him of her sincerity. Favour me now with your clearest +understanding, and deliver it from feminine sensations of any +description for just two minutes.” + +Agostino threw away the end of a cigarette and looked for firmness in +Vittoria's eyes. + +“This Countess d'Isorella is opposed to Carlo's marriage at present. She +says that she is betraying the king's secrets, and has no reliance on +a woman. As a woman you will pardon her, for it is the language of your +sex. You are also denounced by Barto Rizzo, a madman--he went mad as +fire, and had to be chained at Varese. In some way or other Countess +d'Isorella got possession of him; she has managed to subdue him. A +sword-cut he received once in Verona has undoubtedly affected his brain, +or caused it to be affected under strong excitement. He is at her villa, +and she says--perhaps with some truth--that Carlo would in several ways +lose his influence by his immediate marriage with you. The reason must +have weight; otherwise he would fulfil his mother's principal request, +and be at the bidding of his own desire. There; I hope I have spoken +plainly.” + +Agostino puffed a sigh of relief at the conclusion of his task. + +Vittoria had been too strenuously engaged in defending the steadiness of +her own eyes to notice the shadow of an assumption of frankness in his. + +She said that she understood. + +She got away to her room like an insect carrying a load thrice its own +size. All that she could really gather from Agostino's words was, that +she felt herself rocking in a tower, and that Violetta d'Isorella was +beautiful. She had striven hard to listen to him with her wits alone, +and her sensations subsequently revenged themselves in this fashion. The +tower rocked and struck a bell that she discovered to be her betraying +voice uttering cries of pain. She was for hours incapable of meeting +Agostino again. His delicate intuition took the harshness off the +meeting. He led her even to examine her state of mind, and to discern +the fancies from the feelings by which she was agitated. He said +shrewdly and bluntly, “You can master pain, but not doubt. If you show +a sign of unhappiness, remember that I shall know you doubt both what I +have told you, and Carlo as well.” + +Vittoria fenced: “But is there such a thing as happiness?” + +“I should imagine so,” said Agostino, touching her cheek, “and +slipperiness likewise. There's patience at any rate; only you must dig +for it. You arrive at nothing, but the eternal digging constitutes the +object gained. I recollect when I was a raw lad, full of ambition, in +love, and without a franc in my pockets, one night in Paris, I found +myself looking up at a street lamp; there was a moth in it. He couldn't +get out, so he had very little to trouble his conscience. I think he was +near happiness: he ought to have been happy. My luck was not so good, or +you wouldn't see me still alive, my dear.” + +Vittoria sighed for a plainer speaker. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +ON LAGO MAGGIORE + +Carlo's hours were passed chiefly across the lake, in the Piedmontese +valleys. When at Pallanza he was restless, and he shunned the two or +three minutes of privacy with his betrothed which the rigorous Italian +laws besetting courtship might have allowed him to take. He had +perpetually the look of a man starting from wine. It was evident that he +and Countess d'Isorella continued to hold close communication, for she +came regularly to the villa to meet him. On these occasions Countess +Ammiani accorded her one ceremonious interview, and straightway locked +herself in her room. Violetta's grace of ease and vivacity soared too +high to be subject to any hostile judgement of her character. She seemed +to rely entirely on the force of her beauty, and to care little for +those who did not acknowledge it. She accepted public compliments quite +royally, nor was Agostino backward in offering them. “And you have +a voice, you know,” he sometimes said aside to Vittoria; but she had +forgotten how easily she could swallow great praise of her voice; she +had almost forgotten her voice. Her delight was to hang her head above +inverted mountains in the lake, and dream that she was just something +better than the poorest of human creatures. She could not avoid putting +her mind in competition with this brilliant woman's, and feeling +eclipsed; and her weakness became pitiable. But Countess d'Isorella +mentioned once that Pericles was at the Villa Ricciardi, projecting +magnificent operatic entertainments. The reviving of a passion to sing +possessed Vittoria like a thirst for freedom, and instantly confused all +the reflected images within her, as the fury of a sudden wind from the +high Alps scourges the glassy surface of the lake. She begged Countess +Ammiani's permission that she might propose to Pericles to sing in his +private operatic company, in any part, at the shortest notice. + +“You wish to leave me?” said the countess, and resolutely conceived it. + +Speaking to her son on this subject, she thought it necessary to make +some excuse for a singer's instinct, who really did not live save on the +stage. It amused Carlo; he knew when his mother was really angry with +persons she tried to shield from the anger of others; and her not seeing +the wrong on his side in his behaviour to his betrothed was laughable. +Nevertheless she had divined the case more correctly than he: the +lover was hurt. After what he had endured, he supposed, with all his +forgiveness, that he had an illimitable claim upon his bride's patience. +He told his another to speak to her openly. + +“Why not you, my Carlo?” said the countess. + +“Because, mother, if I speak to her, I shall end by throwing out my arms +and calling for the priest.” + +“I would clap hands to that.” + +“We will see; it may be soon or late, but it can't be now.” + +“How much am I to tell her, Carlo?” + +“Enough to keep her from fretting.” + +The countess then asked herself how much she knew. Her habit of +receiving her son's word and will as supreme kept her ignorant of +anything beyond the outline of his plans; and being told to speak openly +of them to another, she discovered that her acquiescing imagination +supplied the chief part of her knowledge. She was ashamed also to have +it thought, even by Carlo, that she had not gathered every detail of his +occupation, so that she could not argue against him, and had to submit +to see her dearest wishes lightly swept aside. + +“I beg you to tell me what you think of Countess d'Isorella; not the +afterthought,” she said to Vittoria. + +“She is beautiful, dear Countess Ammiani.” + +“Call me mother now and then. Yes; she is beautiful. She has a bad +name.” + +“Envy must have given it, I think.” + +“Of course she provokes envy. But I say that her name is bad, as envy +could not make it. She is a woman who goes on missions, and carries +a husband into society like a passport. You have only thought of her +beauty?” + +“I can see nothing else,” said Vittoria, whose torture at the sight of +the beauty was appeased by her disingenuous pleading on its behalf. + +“In my time Beauty was a sinner,” the countess resumed. “My confessor +has filled my ears with warnings that it is a net to the soul, a weapon +for devils. May the saints of Paradise make bare the beauty of this +woman. She has persuaded Carlo that she is serving the country. You have +let him lie here alone in a fruitless bed, silly girl. He stayed for you +while his comrades called him to Vercelli, where they are assembled. +The man whom he salutes as his Chief gave him word to go there. They +are bound for Rome. Ah me! Rome is a great name, but Lombardy is Carlo's +natal home, and Lombardy bleeds. You were absent--how long you were +absent! If you could know the heaviness of those days of his waiting for +you. And it was I who kept him here! I must have omitted a prayer, for +he would have been at Vercelli now with Luciano and Emilio, and you +might have gone to him; but he met this woman, who has convinced him +that Piedmont will make a Winter march, and that his marriage must be +delayed.” The countess raised her face and drooped her hands from the +wrists, exclaiming, “If I have lately omitted one prayer, enlighten me, +blessed heaven! I am blind; I cannot see for my son; I am quite blind. I +do not love the woman; therefore I doubt myself. You, my daughter, tell +me your thought of her, tell me what you think. Young eyes observe; +young heads are sometimes shrewd in guessing.” + +Vittoria said, after a pause, “I will believe her to be true, if she +supports the king.” It was hardly truthful speaking on her part. + +“How can Carlo have been persuaded!” the countess sighed. + +“By me?” Victoria asked herself, and for a moment she was exulting. + +She spoke from that emotion when it had ceased to animate her. + +“Carlo was angry with the king. He echoed Agostino, but Agostino does +not sting as he did, and Carlo cannot avoid seeing what the king has +sacrificed. Perhaps the Countess d'Isorella has shown him promises of +fresh aid in the king's handwriting. Suffering has made Carlo Alberto +one with the Republicans, if he had other ambitions once. And Carlo +dedicates his blood to Lombardy: he does rightly. Dear countess--my +mother! I have made him wait for me; I will be patient in waiting for +him. I know that Countess d'Isorella is intimate with the king. There +is a man named Barto Rizzo, who thinks me a guilty traitress, and she +is making use of this man. That must be her reason for prohibiting +the marriage. She cannot be false if she is capable of uniting extreme +revolutionary agents and the king in one plot, I think; I do not know.” + Vittoria concluded her perfect expression of confidence with this +atoning doubtfulness. + +Countess Ammiani obtained her consent that she would not quit her side. + +After Violetta had gone, Carlo, though he shunned secret interviews, +addressed his betrothed as one who was not strange to his occupation +and the trial his heart was undergoing. She could not doubt that she was +beloved, in spite of the colourlessness and tonelessness of a love that +appealed to her intellect. He showed her a letter he had received from +Laura, laughing at its abuse of Countess d'Isorella, and the sarcasms +levelled at himself. + +In this letter Laura said that she was engaged in something besides +nursing. + +Carlo pointed his finger to the sentence, and remarked, “I must have +your promise--a word from you is enough--that you will not meddle with +any intrigue.” + +Vittoria gave the promise, half trusting it to bring the lost bloom of +their love to him; but he received it as a plain matter of necessity. +Certain of his love, she wondered painfully that it should continue so +barren of music. + +“Why am I to pledge myself that I will be useless?” she asked. “You +mean, my Carlo, that I am to sit still, and watch, and wait.” + +He answered, “I will tell you this much: I can be struck vitally through +you. In the game I am playing, I am able to defend myself. If you enter +it, distraction begins. Stay with my mother.” + +“Am I to know nothing?” + +“Everything--in good time.” + +“I might--might I not help you, my Carlo?” + +“Yes; and nobly too. And I show you the way.” + +Agostino and Carlo made an expedition to Turin. Before he went, Carlo +took her in his arms. + +“Is it coming?” she said, shutting her eyelids like a child expecting +the report of firearms. + +He pressed his lips to the closed eyes. “Not yet; but are you growing +timid?” + +His voice seemed to reprove her. + +She could have told him that keeping her in the dark among unknown +terrors ruined her courage; but the minutes were too precious, his touch +too sweet. In eyes and hands he had become her lover again. The blissful +minutes rolled away like waves that keep the sunshine out at sea. + +Her solitude in the villa was beguiled by the arrival of the score of an +operatic scena, entitled “HAGAR,” by Rocco Ricci, which she fancied that +either Carlo or her dear old master had sent, and she devoured it. She +thought it written expressly for her. With HAGAR she communed during +the long hours, and sang herself on to the verge of an imagined desert +beyond the mountain-shadowed lake and the last view of her beloved +Motterone. Hagar's face of tears in the Brerawas known to her; and Hagar +in her 'Addio' gave the living voice to that dumb one. Vittoria revelled +in the delicious vocal misery. She expanded with the sorrow of poor +Hagar, whose tears refreshed her, and parted her from her recent +narrowing self-consciousness. The great green mountain fronted her +like a living presence. Motterone supplied the place of the robust and +venerable patriarch, whom she reproached, and worshipped, but with a +fathomless burdensome sense of cruel injustice, deeper than the tears or +the voice which spoke of it: a feeling of subjected love that was like +a mother's giving suck to a detested child. Countess Ammiani saw the +abrupt alteration of her step and look with a dim surprise. “What do +you conceal from me?” she asked, and supplied the answer by charitably +attributing it to news that the signora Piaveni was coming. + +When Laura came, the countess thanked her, saying, “I am a wretched +companion for this boiling head.” + +Laura soon proved to her that she had been the best, for after very few +hours Vittoria was looking like the Hagar on the canvas. + +A woman such as Violetta d'Isorella was of the sort from which Laura +shrank with all her feminine power of loathing; but she spoke of her +with some effort at personal tolerance until she heard of Violetta's +stipulation for the deferring of Carlo's marriage, and contrived to +guess that Carlo was reserved and unfamiliar with his betrothed. Then +she cried out, “Fool that he is! Is it ever possible to come to the end +of the folly of men? She has inflamed his vanity. She met him when you +were holding him waiting, and no doubt she commenced with lamentations +over the country, followed by a sigh, a fixed look, a cheerful air, and +the assurance to him that she knew it--uttered as if through the keyhole +of the royal cabinet--she knew that Sardinia would break the Salasco +armistice in a mouth:--if only, if the king could be sure of support +from the youth of Lombardy.” + +“Do you suspect the unhappy king?” Vittoria interposed. + +“Grasp your colours tight,” said Laura, nodding sarcastic approbation of +such fidelity, and smiling slightly. “There has been no mention of the +king. Countess d'Isorella is a spy and a tool of the Jesuits, taking +pay from all parties--Austria as well, I would swear. Their object is +to paralyze the march on Rome, and she has won Carlo for them. I am told +that Barto Rizzo is another of her conquests. Thus she has a madman and +a fool, and what may not be done with a madman and a fool? However, I +have set a watch on her. She must have inflamed Carlo's vanity. He has +it, just as they all have. There's trickery: I would rather behold the +boy charging at the head of a column than putting faith in this base +creature. She must have simulated well,” Laura went on talking to +herself. + +“What trickery?” said Vittoria. + +“He was in love with the woman when he was a lad,” Laura replied, and +pertinently to Vittoria's feelings. This threw the moist shade across +her features. + +Beppo in Turin and Luigi on the lake were the watch set on Countess +d'Isorella; they were useless except to fortify Laura's suspicions. The +Duchess of Graatli wrote mere gossip from Milan. She mentioned that Anna +of Lenkenstein had visited with her the tomb of her brother Count +Paul at Bologna, and had returned in double mourning; and that Madame +Sedley--“the sister of our poor ruined Pierson”--had obtained grace, +for herself at least, from Anna, by casting herself at Anna's feet,--and +that they were now friends. + +Vittoria felt ashamed of Adela. + +When Carlo returned, the signora attacked him boldly with all her +weapons; reproached him; said, “Would my husband have treated me in such +a manner?” Carlo twisted his moustache and stroked his young beard +for patience. They passed from room to balcony and terrace, and Laura +brought him back into company without cessation of her fire of questions +and sarcasms, saying, “No, no; we will speak of these things publicly.” + She appealed alternately to Agostino, Vittoria, and Countess Ammiani for +support, and as she certainly spoke sense, Carlo was reduced to gloom +and silence. Laura then paused. “Surely you have punished your bride +enough?” she said; and more softly, “Brother of my Giacomo! you are +under an evil spell.” + +Carlo started up in anger. Bending to Vittoria, he offered her his hand +to lead her out, They went together. + +“A good sign,” said the countess. + +“A bad sign!” Laura sighed. “If he had taken me out for explanation! But +tell me, my Agostino, are you the woman's dupe?” + +“I have been,” Agostino admitted frankly. + +“You did really put faith in her?” + +“She condescends to be so excessively charming.” + +“You could not advance a better reason.” + +“It is one of our best; perhaps our very best, where your sex is +concerned, signora.” + +“You are her dupe no more?” + +“No more. Oh, dear no!” + +“You understand her now, do you?” + +“For the very reason, signora, that I have been her dupe. That is, I am +beginning to understand her. I am not yet in possession of the key.” + +“Not yet in possession!” said Laura contemptuously; “but, never mind. +Now for Carlo.” + +“Now for Carlo. He declares that he never has been deceived by her.” + +“He is perilously vain,” sighed the signora. + +“Seriously”--Agostino drew out the length of his beard--“I do not +suppose that he has been--boys, you know, are so acute. He fancies he +can make her of service, and he shows some skill.” + +“The skill of a fish to get into the net!” + +“My dearest signora, you do not allow for the times. I +remember”--Agostino peered upward through his eyelashes in a way that +he had--“I remember seeing in a meadow a gossamer running away with a +spider-thread. It was against all calculation. But, observe: there were +exterior agencies at work: a stout wind blew. The ordinary reckoning +is based on calms. Without the operation of disturbing elements, the +spider-thread would have gently detained the gossamer.” + +“Is that meant for my son?” Countess Ammiani asked slowly, with +incredulous emphasis. + +Agostino and Laura, laughing in their hearts at the mother's mysterious +veneration for Carlo, had to explain that 'gossamer' was a poetic, +generic term, to embrace the lighter qualities of masculine youth. + +A woman's figure passed swiftly by the window, which led Laura to +suppose that the couple outside had parted. She ran forth, calling to +one of them, but they came hand in hand, declaring that they had seen +neither woman nor man. “And I am happy,” Vittoria whispered. She looked +happy, pale though she was. + +“It is only my dreadful longing for rest which makes me pale,” she said +to Laura, when they were alone. “Carlo has proved to me that he is wiser +than I am.” + +“A proof that you love Carlo, perhaps,” Laura rejoined. + +“Dearest, he speaks more gently of the king.” + +“It may be cunning, or it may be carelessness.” + +“Will nothing satisfy you, wilful sceptic? He is quite alive to the +Countess d'Isorella's character. He told me how she dazzled him once.” + +“Not how she has entangled him now?” + +“It is not true. He told me what I should like to dream over without +talking any more to anybody. Ah, what a delight! to have known him, as +you did, when he was a boy. Can one who knew him then mean harm to him? +I am not capable of imagining it. No; he will not abandon poor broken +Lombardy, and he is right; and it is my duty to sit and wait. No shadow +shall come between us. He has said it, and I have said it. We have but +one thing to fear, which is contemptible to fear; so I am at peace.” + +“Love-sick,” was Laura's mental comment. Yet when Carlo explained his +position to her next day, she was milder in her condemnation of him, and +even admitted that a man must be guided by such brains as he possesses. +He had conceived that his mother had a right to claim one month from +him at the close of the war; he said this reddening. Laura nodded. He +confessed that he was irritated when he met the Countess d'Isorella, +with whom, to his astonishment, he found Barto Rizzo. She had picked him +up, weak from a paroxysm, on the high-road to Milan. “And she tamed the +brute,” said Carlo, in admiration of her ability; “she saw that he was +plot-mad, and she set him at work on a stupendous plot; agents running +nowhere, and scribblings concentring in her work-basket. You smile at +me, as if I were a similar patient, signora. But I am my own agent. I +have personally seen all my men in Turin and elsewhere. Violetta has not +one grain of love for her country; but she can be made to serve it. As +for me, I have gone too far to think of turning aside and drilling with +Luciano. He may yet be diverted from Rome, to strike another blow for +Lombardy. The Chief, I know, has some religious sentiment about Rome. So +might I have; it is the Head of Italy. Let us raise the body first. And +we have been beaten here. Great Gods! we will have another fight for it +on the same spot, and quickly. Besides, I cannot face Luciano and tell +him why I was away from him in the dark hour. How can I tell him that I +was lingering to bear a bride to the altar? while he and the rest--poor +fellows! Hard enough to have to mention it to you, signora!” + +She understood his boyish sense of shame. Making smooth allowances for a +feeling natural to his youth and the circumstances, she said, “I am your +sister, for you were my husband's brother in arms, Carlo. We two speak +heart to heart: I sometimes fancy you have that voice: you hurt me with +it more than you know; gladden me too! My Carlo, I wish to hear why +Countess d'Isorella objects to your marriage.” + +“She does not object.” + +“An answer that begins by quibbling is not propitious. She opposes it.” + +“For this reason: you have not forgotten the bronze butterfly?” + +“I see more clearly,” said Laura, with a start. + +“There appears to be no cure for the brute's mad suspicion of her,” + Carlo pursued: “and he is powerful among the Milanese. If my darling +takes my name, he can damage much of my influence, and--you know what +there is to be dreaded from a fanatic.” + +Laura nodded, as if in full agreement with him, and said, after +meditating a minute, “What sort of a lover is this!” + +She added a little laugh to the singular interjection. + +“Yes, I have also thought of a secret marriage,” said Carlo, stung by +her penetrating instinct so that he was enabled to read the meaning in +her mind. + +“The best way, when you are afflicted by a dilemma of such a character, +my Carlo,” the signora looked at him, “is to take a chess-table and +make your moves on it. 'King--my duty;' 'Queen--my passion;' 'Bishop--my +social obligation;' 'Knight--my what-you-will and my round-the-corner +wishes.' Then, if you find that queen may be gratified without +endangering king, and so forth, why, you may follow your inclinations; +and if not, not. My Carlo, you are either enviably cool, or you are an +enviable hypocrite.” + +“The matter is not quite so easily settled as that,” said Carlo. + +On the whole, though against her preconception, Laura thought him an +honest lover, and not the player of a double game. She saw that Vittoria +should have been with him in the critical hour of defeat, when his +passions were down, and heaven knows what weakness of our common +manhood, that was partly pride, partly love-craving, made his nature +waxen to every impression; a season, as Laura knew, when the mistress of +a loyal lover should not withhold herself from him. A nature tender like +Carlo's, and he bearing an enamoured heart, could not, as Luciano Romara +had done, pass instantly from defeat to drill. And vain as Carlo was +(the vanity being most intricate and subtle, like a nervous fluid), he +was very open to the belief that he could diplomatize as well as fight, +and lead a movement yet better than follow it. Even so the signora tried +to read his case. + +They were all, excepting Countess Ammiani (“who will never, I fear, do +me this honour,” Violetta wrote, and the countess said, “Never,” and +quoted a proverb), about to pass three or four days at the villa of +Countess d'Isorella. Before they set out, Vittoria received a portentous +envelope containing a long scroll, that was headed “YOUR CRIMES,” + and detailing a lest of her offences against the country, from the +revelation of the plot in her first letter to Wilfrid, to services +rendered to the enemy during the war, up to the departure of Charles +Albert out of forsaken Milan. + +“B. R.” was the undisguised signature at the end of the scroll. + +Things of this description restored her old war-spirit to Vittoria. +She handed the scroll to Laura; Laura, in great alarm, passed it on to +Carlo. He sent for Angelo Guidascarpi in haste, for Carlo read it as +an ante-dated justificatory document to some mischievous design, and +he desired that hands as sure as his own, and yet more vigilant eyes, +should keep watch over his betrothed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +VIOLETTA D'ISORELLA + +The villa inhabited by Countess d'Isorella was on the water's +edge, within clear view of the projecting Villa Ricciardi, in that +darkly-wooded region of the lake which leads up to the Italian-Swiss +canton. + +Violetta received here an envoy from Anna of Lenkenstein, direct out of +Milan: an English lady, calling herself Mrs. Sedley, and a particular +friend of Countess Anna. At the first glance Violetta saw that her +visitor had the pretension to match her arts against her own; so, to +sound her thoroughly, she offered her the hospitalities of the villa +for a day or more. The invitation was accepted. Much to Violetta's +astonishment, the lady betrayed no anxiety to state the exact terms +of her mission: she appeared, on the contrary, to have an unbounded +satisfaction in the society of her hostess, and prattled of herself and +Antonio-Pericles, and her old affection for Vittoria, with the wiliest +simplicity, only requiring to be assured at times that she spoke +intelligible Italian and exquisite French. Violetta supposed her to feel +that she commanded the situation. Patient study of this woman +revealed to Violetta the amazing fact that she was dealing with a +born bourgeoise, who, not devoid of petty acuteness, was unaffectedly +enjoying her noble small-talk, and the prospect of a footing in Italian +high society. Violetta smiled at the comedy she had been playing in, +scarcely reproaching herself for not having imagined it. She proceeded +to the point of business without further delay. + +Adela Sedley had nothing but a verbal message to deliver. The Countess +Anna of Lenkenstein offered, on her word of honour as a noblewoman, +to make over the quarter of her estate and patrimony to the Countess +d'Isorella, if the latter should succeed in thwarting--something. + +Forced to speak plainly, Adela confessed she thought she knew the nature +of that something. + +To preclude its being named, Violetta then diverged from the subject. + +“We will go round to your friend the signor Antonio-Pericles at Villa +Ricciardi,” she said. “You will see that he treats me familiarly, but he +is not a lover of mine. I suspect your 'something' has something to do +with the Jesuits.” + +Adela Sedley replied to the penultimate sentence: “It would not surprise +me, indeed, to hear of any number of adorers.” + +“I have the usual retinue, possibly,” said Violetta. + +“Dear countess, I could be one of them myself!” Adela burst out with +tentative boldness. + +“Then, kiss me.” + +And behold, they interchanged that unsweet feminine performance. + +Adela's lips were unlocked by it. + +“How many would envy me, dear Countess d'Isorella!” + +She really conceived that she was driving into Violetta's heart by the +great high-road of feminine vanity. Violetta permitted her to think as +she liked. + +“Your countrywomen, madame, do not make large allowances for beauty, I +hear.” + +“None at all. But they are so stiff! so frigid! I know one, a Miss Ford, +now in Italy, who would not let me have a male friend, and a character, +in conjunction.” + +“You are acquainted with Count Karl Lenkenstein?” + +Adela blushingly acknowledged it. + +“The whisper goes that I was once admired by him,” said Violetta. + +“And by Count Ammiani.” + +“By count? by milord? by prince? by king?” + +“By all who have good taste.” + +“Was it jealousy, then, that made Countess Anna hate me?” + +“She could not--or she cannot now.” + +“Because I have not taken possession of her brother.” + +“I could not--may I say it?--I could not understand his infatuation +until Countess Anna showed me the portrait of Italy's most beautiful +living woman. She told me to look at the last of the Borgia family.” + +Violetta laughed out clear music. “And now you see her?” + +“She said that it had saved her brother's life. It has a star and a +scratch on the left cheek from a dagger. He wore it on his heart, and an +assassin struck him there: a true romance. Countess Anna said to me that +it had saved one brother, and that it should help to avenge the other. +She has not spoken to me of Jesuits.” + +“Nothing at all of the Jesuits?” said Violetta carelessly. “Perhaps she +wishes to use my endeavours to get the Salaseo armistice prolonged, and +tempts me, knowing I am a prodigal. Austria is victorious, you know, but +she wants peace. Is that the case? I do not press you to answer.” + +Adela replied hesitatingly: “Are you aware, countess, whether there +is any truth in the report that Countess Lena has a passion for Count +Ammiani?” + +“Ah, then,” said Violetta, “Countess Lena's sister would naturally wish +to prevent his contemplated marriage! We may have read the riddle at +last. Are you discreet? If you are, you will let it be known that I had +the honour of becoming intimate with you in Turin--say, at the Court. We +shall meet frequently there during winter, I trust, if you care to make +a comparison of the Italian with the Austrian and the English nobility.” + +An eloquent “Oh!” escaped from Adela's bosom. She had certainly not +expected to win her way with this estimable Italian titled lady thus +rapidly. Violetta had managed her so well that she was no longer sure +whether she did know the exact nature of her mission, the words of which +she had faithfully transmitted as having been alone confided to her. It +was with chagrin that she saw Pericles put his fore-finger on a salient +dimple of the countess's cheek when he welcomed them. He puffed and +blew like one working simultaneously at bugle and big drum on hearing +an allusion to Victoria. The mention of the name of that abominable +traitress was interdicted at Villa Ricciardi, he said; she had dragged +him at two armies' tails to find his right senses at last: Pericles +was cured of his passion for her at last. He had been mad, but he was +cured--and so forth, in the old strain. His preparations for a private +operatic performance diverted him from these fierce incriminations, +and he tripped busily from spot to spot, conducting the ladies over the +tumbled lower floors of the spacious villa, and calling their admiration +on the desolation of the scene. Then they went up to the maestro's room. +Pericles became deeply considerate for the master's privacy. “He is my +slave; the man has ruined himself for la Vittoria; but I respect the +impersonation of art,” he said under his breath to the ladies as they +stood at the door; “hark!” The piano was touched, and the voice of +Irma di Karski broke out in a shrill crescendo. Rocco Ricci within gave +tongue to the vehement damnatory dance of Pericles outside. Rocco +struck his piano again encouragingly for a second attempt, but Irma +was sobbing. She was heard to say: “This is the fifteenth time you have +pulled me down in one morning. You hate me; you do; you hate me.” Rocco +ran his fingers across the keys, and again struck the octave for Irma. +Pericles wiped his forehead, when, impenitent and unteachable, she took +the notes in the manner of a cock. He thumped at the door violently and +entered. + +“Excellent! horrid! brava! abominable! beautiful! My Irma, you have +reached the skies. You ascend like a firework, and crown yourself at the +top. No more to-day; but descend at your leisure, my dear, and we will +try to mount again by-and-by, and not so fast, if you please. Ha! +your voice is a racehorse. You will learn to ride him with temper and +judgement, and you will go. Not so, my Rocco? Irma, you want repose, my +dear. One thing I guarantee to you--you will please the public. It is a +minor thing that you should please me.” + +Countess d'Isorella led Irma away, and had to bear with many fits of +weeping, and to assent to the force of all the charges of vindictive +conspiracy and inveterate malice with which the jealous creature +assailed Vittoria's name. The countess then claimed her ear for +half-a-minute. + +“Have you had any news of Countess Anna lately?” + +Irma had not; she admitted it despondently. “There is such a vile +conspiracy against me in Italy--and Italy is a poor singer's fame--that +I should be tempted to do anything. And I detest la Vittoria. She has +such a hold on this Antonio-Pericles, I don't see how I can hurt her, +unless I meet her and fly at her throat.” + +“You naturally detest her,” said the countess. “Repeat Countess Anna's +proposal to you.” + +“It was insulting--she offered me money.” + +“That you should persuade me to assist you in preventing la Vittoria's +marriage to Count Ammiani?” + +“Dear lady, you know I did not try to persuade you.” + +“You knew that you would not succeed, my Irma. But Count Ammiani will +not marry her; so you will have a right to claim some reward. I do not +think that la Vittoria is quite idle. Look out for yourself, my child. +If you take to plotting, remember it is a game of two.” + +“If she thwarts me in one single step, I will let loose that madman on +her,” said Irma, trembling. + +“You mean the signor Antonio-Pericles?” + +“No; I mean that furious man I saw at your villa, dear countess.” + +“Ah! Barto Rizzo. A very furious man. He bellowed when he heard her +name, I remember. You must not do it. But, for Count Ammiani's sake, I +desire to see his marriage postponed, at least.” + +“Where is she?” Irma inquired. + +The countess shrugged. “Even though I knew, I could not prudently tell +you in your present excited state.” + +She went to Pericles for a loan of money. Pericles remarked that there +was not much of it in Turin. “But, countess, you whirl the gold-pieces +like dust from your wheels; and a spy, my good soul, a lovely secret +emissary, she will be getting underpaid if she allows herself to want +money. There is your beauty; it is ripe, but it is fresh, and it is +extraordinary. Yes; there is your beauty.” Before she could obtain +a promise of the money, Violetta had to submit to be stripped to her +character, which was hard; but on the other hand, Pericles exacted no +interest on his money, and it was not often that he exacted a return of +it in coin. Under these circumstances, ladies in need of money can find +it in their hearts to pardon mere brutality of phrase. Pericles +promised to send it to the countess on one condition; which condition +he cancelled, saying dejectedly, “I do not care to know where she is. I +will not know.” + +“She has the score of Hagar, wherever she is,” said Violetta, “and when +she hears that you have done the scene without her aid, you will have +stuck a dagger in her bosom.” + +“Not,” Pericles cried in despair, “not if she should hear Irma's Hagar! +To the desert with Irma. It is the place for a crab-apple. Bravo, +Abraham! you were wise.” + +Pericles added that Montini was hourly expected, and that there was to +be a rehearsal in the evening. + +When she had driven home, Violetta found Barto Rizzo's accusatory +paper laid on her writing-desk. She gathered the contents in a careless +glance, and walked into the garden alone, to look for Carlo. + +He was leaning on the balustrade of the terrace, near the water-gate, +looking into the deep clear lake-water. Violetta placed herself beside +him without a greeting. + +“You are watching fish for coolness, my Carlo?” + +“Yes,” he said, and did not turn to her face. + +“You were very angry when you arrived?” + +She waited for his reply. + +“Why do you not speak, Carlino?” + +“I am watching fish for coolness,” he said. + +“Meantime,” said Violetta, “I am scorched.” + +He looked up, and led her to an arch of shade, where he sat quite +silent. + +“Can anything be more vexing than this?” she was reduced to exclaim. + +“Ah!” said he, “you would like the catalogue to be written out for you +in a big bold hand, possibly, with a terrific initials at the end of the +page.” + +“Carlo, you have done worse than that. When I saw you first here, what +crimes did you not accuse me of? what names did you not scatter on my +head? and what things did I not, confess to? I bore the unkindness, +for you were beaten, and you wanted a victim. And, my dear friend, +considering that I am after all a woman, my forbearance has subsequently +been still greater.” + +“How?” he asked. Her half-pathetic candour melted him. + +“You must, have a lively memory for the uses of forgetfulness, Carlo, +When you had scourged me well, you thought it proper to raise me up and +give me comfort. I was wicked for serving the king, and therefore the +country, as a spy; but I was to persevere, and cancel my iniquities by +betraying those whom I served to you. That was your instructive precept. +Have I done it or not? Answer, too have I done it for any payment beyond +your approbation? I persuaded you to hope for Lombardy, and without any +vaunting of my own patriotism. You have seen and spoken to the men +I directed you to visit. If their heads master yours, I shall be +reprobated for it, I know surely; but I am confident as yet that you can +match them. In another month I expect to see the king over the Ticino +once more, and Carlo in Brescia with his comrades. You try to penetrate +my eyes. That's foolish; I can make them glass. Read me by what I say +and what I do. I do not entreat you to trust me; I merely beg that you +will trust your own judgement of me by what I have helped you to do +hitherto. You and I, my dear boy, have had some trifling together. Admit +that another woman would have refused to surrender you as I did when +your unruly Vittoria was at last induced to come to you from Milan. Or, +another woman would have had her revenge on discovering that she had +been a puppet of soft eyes and a lover's quarrel with his mistress. +Instead of which, I let you go. I am opposed to the marriage, it's true; +and you know why.” + +Carlo had listened to Violetta, measuring the false and the true in this +recapitulation of her conduct with cool accuracy until she alluded to +their personal relations. Thereat his brows darkened. + +“We had I some trifling together,” he said, musingly. + +“Is it going to be denied in these sweeter days?” Violetta reddened. + +“The phrase is elastic. Suppose my bride were to hear it?” + +“It was addressed to your ears, Carlo.” + +“It cuts two ways. Will you tell me when it was that I last had the +happiness of saluting you, lip to lip?” + +“In Brescia--before I had espoused an imbecile--two nights before my +marriage--near the fountain of the Greek girl with a pitcher.” + +Pride and anger nerved the reply. It was uttered in a rapid low +breath. Coming altogether unexpectedly, it created an intense momentary +revulsion of his feelings by conjuring up his boyish love in a scene +more living than the sunlight. + +He lifted her hand to his mouth. He was Italian enough, though a lover, +to feel that she deserved more. She had reddened deliciously, and +therewith hung a dewy rosy moisture on her underlids. Raising her eyes, +she looked like a cut orange to a thirsty lip. He kissed her, saying, +“Pardon.” + +“Keep it secret, you mean?” she retorted. “Yes, I pardon that wish of +yours. I can pardon much to my beauty.” + +She stood up as majestically as she had spoken. + +“You know, my Violetta, that I am madly in love.” + +“I have learnt it.” + +“You know it:--what else would?... If I were not lost in love, could I +see you as I do and let Brescia be the final chapter?” + +Violetta sighed. “I should have preferred its being so rather than this +superfluous additional line to announce an end, like a foolish staff on +the edge of a cliff. You thought that you were saluting a leper, or a +saint?” + +“Neither. If ever we can talk together again, as we have done,” Carlo +said gloomily, “I will tell you what I think of myself.” + +“No, but Richelieu might have behaved.... Ah! perhaps not quite in the +same way,” she corrected her flowing apology for him. “But then, he was +a Frenchman. He could be flighty without losing his head. Dear Italian +Carlo! Yes, in the teeth of Barto Rizzo, and for the sake of the +country, marry her at once. It will be the best thing for you; really +the best. You want to know from me the whereabout of Barto Rizzo. He may +be in the mountain over Stresa, or in Milan. He also has thrown off my +yoke, such as it was! I do assure you, Carlo, I have no command over +him: but, mind, I half doat on the wretch. No man made me desperately +in love with myself before he saw me, when I stopped his raving in the +middle of the road with one look of my face. There was foam on his beard +and round his eyes; the poor wretch took out his handkerchief, and he +sobbed. I don't know how many luckless creatures he had killed on his +way; but when I took him into my carriage--king, emperor, orator on +stilts, minister of police not one has flattered me as he did, by just +gazing at me. Beauty can do as much as music, my Carlo.” + +Carlo thanked heaven that Violetta had no passion in her nature. She had +none: merely a leaning toward evil, a light sense of shame, a desire +for money, and in her heart a contempt for the principles she did not +possess, but which, apart from the intervention of other influences, +could occasionally sway her actions. Friendship, or rather the shadowy +recovery of a past attachment that had been more than friendship, +inclined her now and then to serve a master who failed distinctly to +represent her interests; and when she met Carlo after the close of the +war, she had really set to work in hearty kindliness to rescue him from +what she termed “shipwreck with that disastrous Republican crew.” He had +obtained greater ascendency over her than she liked; yet she would have +forgiven it, as well as her consequent slight deviation from direct +allegiance to her masters in various cities, but for Carlo's commanding +personal coolness. She who had tamed a madman by her beauty, was +outraged, and not unnaturally, by the indifference of a former lover. + +Later in the day, Laura and Vittoria, with Agostino, reached the villa; +and Adela put her lips to Vittoria's ear, whispering: “Naughty! when +are you to lose your liberty to turn men's heads?” and then she heaved +a sigh with Wilfrid's name. She had formed the acquaintance of Countess +d'Isorella in Turin, she said, and satisfactorily repeated her lesson, +but with a blush. She was little more than a shade to Vittoria, who +wondered what she had to live for. After the early evening dinner, when +sunlight and the colours of the sun were beyond the western mountains, +they pushed out on the lake. A moon was overhead, seeming to drop lower +on them as she filled with light. + +Agostino and Vittoria fell upon their theme of discord, as usual--the +King of Sardinia. + +“We near the vesper hour, my daughter,” said Agostino; “you would +provoke me to argumentation in heaven itself. I am for peace. I remember +looking down on two cats with arched backs in the solitary arena of the +Verona amphitheatre. We men, my Carlo, will not, in the decay of time, +so conduct ourselves.” + +Vittoria looked on Laura and thought of the cannon-sounding hours, whose +echoes rolled over their slaughtered hope. The sun fell, the moon shone, +and the sun would rise again, but Italy lay face to earth. They had seen +her together before the enemy. That recollection was a joy that stood, +though the winds beat at it, and the torrents. She loved her friend's +worn eyelids and softly-shut mouth; the after-glow of battle seemed on +them; the silence of the field of carnage under heaven;--and the patient +turning of Laura's eyes this way and that to speakers upon common +things, covered the despair of her heart as with a soldier's cloak. + +Laura met the tender study of Vittoria's look, and smiled. + +They neared the Villa Ricciardi, and heard singing. The villa was +lighted profusely, so that it made a little mock-sunset on the lake. + +“Irma!” said Vittoria, astonished at the ring of a well-known voice that +shot up in firework fashion, as Pericles had said of it. Incredulous, +she listened till she was sure; and then glanced hurried questions at +all eyes. Violetta laughed, saying, “You have the score of Rocco Ricci's +Hagar.” + +The boat drew under the blazing windows, and half guessing, half +hearing, Vittoria understood that Pericles was giving an entertainment +here, and had abjured her. She was not insensible to the slight. This +feeling, joined to her long unsatisfied craving to sing, led her to be +intolerant of Irma's style, and visibly vexed her. + +Violetta whispered: “He declares that your voice is cracked: show him! +Burst out with the 'Addio' of Hagar. May she not, Carlo? Don't you +permit the poor soul to sing? She cannot contain herself.” + +Carlo, Adela, Agostino, and Violetta prompted her, and, catching a pause +in the villa, she sang the opening notes of Hagar's 'Addio' with her old +glorious fulness of tone and perfect utterance. + +The first who called her name was Rocco Ricci, but Pericles was the +first to rush out and hang over the boat. “Witch! traitress! +infernal ghost! heart of ice!” and in English “humbug!” and in French +“coquin!”:--these were a few of the titles he poured on her. Rocco Ricci +and Montini kissed hands to her, begging her to come to them. She was +very willing outwardly, and in her heart most eager; but Carlo bade +the rowers push off. Then it was pitiful to hear the shout of abject +supplication from Pericles. He implored Count Ammiani's pardon, +Vittoria's pardon, for telling her what she was; and as the boat drew +farther away, he offered her sums of money to enter the villa and sing +the score of Hagar. He offered to bear the blame of her bad behaviour to +him, said he would forget it and stamp it out; that he would pay for +the provisioning of a regiment of volunteers for a whole month; that +he would present her marriage trousseau to her--yes, and let her marry. +“Sandra! my dear! my dear!” he cried, and stretched over the parapet +speechless, like a puppet slain. + +So strongly did she comprehend the sincerity of his passion for +her voice that she could or would see nothing extravagant in this +demonstration, which excited unrestrained laughter in every key from her +companions in the boat. When the boat was about a hundred yards from the +shore, and in full moonlight, she sang the great “Addio” of Hagar. At +the close of it, she had to feel for her lover's hand blindly. No one +spoke, either at the Villa Ricciardi, or about her. Her voice possessed +the mountain-shadowed lake. + +The rowers pulled lustily home through chill air. + +Luigi and Beppo were at the villa, both charged with news from Milan. +Beppo claiming the right to speak first, which Luigi granted with a +magnificent sweep of his hand, related that Captain Weisspriess, of +the garrison, had wounded Count Medole in a duel severely. He brought a +letter to Vittoria from Merthyr, in which Merthyr urged her to prevent +Count Ammiani's visiting Milan for any purpose whatever, and said that +he was coming to be present at, her marriage. She was reading this while +Luigi delivered his burden; which was, that in a subsequent duel, the +slaughtering captain had killed little Leone Rufo, the gay and gallant +boy, Carlo's comrade, and her friend. + +Luigi laughed scornfully at his rival, and had edged away--out of sight +before he could be asked who had sent him. Beppo ignominiously confessed +that he had not heard of this second duel. At midnight he was on +horseback, bound for Milan, with a challenge to the captain from Carlo, +who had a jealous fear that Luciano at Vercelli might have outstripped +him. Carlo requested the captain to guarantee him an hour's immunity in +the city on a stated day, or to name any spot on the borders of +Piedmont for the meeting. The challenge was sent with Countess Ammiani's +approbation and Laura's. Vittoria submitted. + +That done, Carlo gave up his heart to his bride. A fight in prospect was +the hope of wholesome work after his late indecision and double +play. They laughed at themselves, accused hotly, and humbly excused +themselves, praying for mutual pardon. + +She had behaved badly in disobeying his mandate from Brescia. + +Yes, but had he not been over-imperious? + +True; still she should have remembered her promise in the Vicentino. + +She did indeed; but how could she quit her wounded friend Merthyr? + +Perhaps not: then, why had she sent word to him from Milan that she +would be at Pallanza? + +This question knocked at a sealed chamber. She was silent, and Carlo had +to brood over something as well. He gave her hints of his foolish pique, +his wrath and bitter baffled desire for her when, coming to Pallanza, he +came to an empty house. But he could not help her to see, for he did +not himself feel, that he had been spurred by silly passions, pique, and +wrath, to plunge instantly into new political intrigue; and that some of +his worst faults had become mixed up with his devotion to his country. +Had he taken Violetta for an ally in all purity of heart? The kiss he +had laid on the woman's sweet lips had shaken his absolute belief +in that. He tried to set his brain travelling backward, in order to +contemplate accurately the point of his original weakness. It being +almost too severe a task for any young head, Carlo deemed it sufficient +that he should say--and this he felt--that he was unworthy of his +beloved. + +Could Vittoria listen to such stuff? She might have kissed him to stop +the flow of it, but kissings were rare between them; so rare, that when +they had put mouth to mouth, a little quivering spire of flame, dim at +the base, stood to mark the spot in their memories. She moved her hand, +as to throw aside such talk. Unfretful in blood, chaste and keen, she at +least knew the foolishness of the common form of lovers' trifling when +there is a burning love to keep under, and Carlo saw that she did, and +adored her for this highest proof of the passion of her love. + +“In three days you will be mine, if I do not hear from Milan? within +five, if I do?” he said. + +Vittoria gave him the whole beauty of her face a divine minute, and +bowed it assenting. Carlo then led her to his mother, before whom he +embraced her for the comfort of his mother's heart. They decided that +there should be no whisper of the marriage until the couple were one. +Vittoria obtained the countess's permission to write for Merthyr to +attend her at the altar. She had seen Weisspriess fall in combat, and +she had perfect faith in her lover's right hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +ANNA OF LENKENSTEIN + +Captain Weisspriess replied to Carlo Ammiani promptly, naming Camerlata +by Como, as the place where he would meet him. + +He stated at the end of some temperate formal lines, that he had given +Count Ammiani the preference over half-a-dozen competitors for the +honour of measuring swords with him; but that his adversary must not +expect him to be always ready to instruct the young gentlemen of the +Lombardo-Venetian province in the arts of fence; and therefore he begged +to observe, that his encounter with Count Ammiani would be the last +occasion upon which he should hold himself bound to accept a challenge +from Count Ammiani's countrymen. + +It was quite possible, the captain said, drawing a familiar illustration +from the gaming-table, to break the stoutest Bank in the world by a +perpetual multiplication of your bets, and he was modest enough to +remember that he was but one man against some thousands, to contend with +all of whom would be exhausting. + +Consequently the captain desired Count Ammiani to proclaim to his +countrymen that the series of challenges must terminate; and he +requested him to advertize the same in a Milanese, a Turin, and a +Neapolitan journal. + +“I am not a butcher,” he concluded. “The task you inflict upon me is +scarcely bearable. Call it by what name you will, it is having ten shots +to one, which was generally considered an equivalent to murder. My sword +is due to you, Count Ammiani; and, as I know you to be an honourable +nobleman, I would rather you were fighting in Venice, though your cause +is hopeless, than standing up to match yourself against me. Let me add, +that I deeply respect the lady who is engaged to be united to you, and +would not willingly cross steel either with her lover or her husband. I +shall be at Camerlata at the time appointed. If I do not find you there, +I shall understand that you have done me the honour to take my humble +advice, and have gone where your courage may at least appear to have +done better service. I shall sheathe my sword and say no more about it.” + +All of this, save the concluding paragraph, was written under the eyes +of Countess Anna of Lenkenstein. + +He carried it to his quarters, where he appended the as he deemed +it--conciliatory passage: after which he handed it to Beppo, in a square +of the barracks, with a buon'mano that Beppo received bowing, and +tossed to an old decorated regimental dog of many wounds and a veteran's +gravity. For this offence a Styrian grenadier seized him by the +shoulders, lifting him off his feet and swinging him easily, while the +dog arose from his contemplation of the coin and swayed an expectant +tail. The Styrian had dashed Beppo to earth before Weisspriess could +interpose, and the dog had got him by the throat. In the struggle Beppo +tore off the dog's medal for distinguished conduct on the field of +battle. He restored it as soon as he was free, and won unanimous +plaudits from officers and soldiers for his kindly thoughtfulness and +the pretty manner with which he dropped on one knee, and assuaged the +growls, and attached the medal to the old dog's neck. Weisspriess walked +away. Beppo then challenged his Styrian to fight. The case was laid +before a couple of sergeants, who shook their heads on hearing his +condition to be that of a serving-man, the Styrian was ready to waive +considerations of superiority; but the “judge” pronounced their veto. A +soldier in the Imperial Royal service, though he was merely a private in +the ranks, could not accept a challenge from civilians below the rank +of notary, secretary, hotel- or inn-keeper, and suchlike: servants and +tradesmen he must seek to punish in some other way; and they also had +their appeal to his commanding officer. So went the decision of the +military tribunal, until the Styrian, having contrived to make Beppo +understand, by the agency of a single Italian verb, that he wanted a +blow, Beppo spun about and delivered a stinging smack on the Styrian's +cheek; which altered the view of the case, for, under peculiar +circumstances--supposing that he did not choose to cut him down--a +soldier might condescend to challenge his civilian inferiors: “in +our regiment,” said the sergeants, meaning that they had relaxed the +stringency of their laws. + +Beppo met his Styrian outside the city walls, and laid him flat. He +declined to fight a second; but it was represented to him, by the aid +of an interpreter, that the officers of the garrison were subjected to +successive challenges, and that the first trial of his skill might have +been nothing finer than luck; and besides, his adversary had a right +to call a champion. “We all do it,” the soldiers assured him. “Now your +blood's up you're ready for a dozen of us;” which was less true of +a constitution that was quicker in expending its heat. He stood out +against a young fellow almost as limber as himself, much taller, and +longer in the reach, by whom he was quickly disabled with cuts on thigh +and head. Seeing this easy victory over him, the soldiers, previously +quite civil, cursed him for having got the better of their fallen +comrade, and went off discussing how he had done the trick, leaving him +to lie there. A peasant carried him to a small suburban inn, where +he remained several days oppressed horribly by a sense that he had +forgotten something. When he recollected what it was, he entrusted the +captain's letter to his landlady;--a good woman, but she chanced to +have a scamp of a husband, who snatched it from her and took it to his +market. Beppo supposed the letter to be on its Way to Pallauza, when it +was in General Schoneck's official desk; and soon after the breath of a +scandalous rumour began to circulate. + +Captain Weisspriess had gone down to Camerlata, accompanied by a Colonel +Volpo, of an Austro-Italian regiment, and by Lieutenant Jenna. At +Camerlata a spectacled officer, Major Nagen, joined them. Weisspriess +was the less pleased with his company on hearing that he had come to +witness the meeting, in obedience to an express command of a person +who was interested in it. Jenna was the captain's friend: Volpo was +seconding him for the purpose of getting Count Ammiani to listen to +reason from the mouth of a countryman. There could be no doubt in the +captain's mind that this Major Nagen was Countess Anna's spy as well +as his rival, and he tried to be rid of him; but in addition to +the shortness of sight which was Nagen's plea for pushing his thin +transparent nose into every corner, he enjoyed at will an intermittent +deafness, and could hear anything without knowing of it. Brother +officers said of Major Nagen that he was occasionally equally senseless +in the nose, which had been tweaked without disturbing the repose of his +features. He waited half-an-hour on the ground after the appointed time, +and then hurried to Milan. Weisspriess waited an hour. Satisfied that +Count Ammiani was not coming, he exacted from Volpo and from Jenna their +word of honour as Austrian officers that they would forbear-to cast any +slur on the courage of his adversary, and would be so discreet on the +subject as to imply that the duel was a drawn affair. They pledged +themselves accordingly. “There's Nagen, it's true,” said Weisspriess, +as a man will say and feel that he has done his best to prevent a thing +inevitable. + +Milan, and some of the journals of Milan, soon had Carlo Ammiani's name +up for challenging Weisspriess and failing to keep his appointment. It +grew to be discussed as a tremendous event. The captain received fifteen +challenges within two days; among these a second one from Luciano +Romara, whom he was beginning to have a strong desire to encounter. He +repressed it, as quondam drunkards fight off the whisper of their lips +for liquor. “No more blood,” was his constant inward cry. He wanted +peace; but as he also wanted Countess Anna of Lenkenstein and her +estates, it may possibly be remarked of him that what he wanted he did +not want to pay for. + +At this period Wilfrid had resumed the Austrian uniform as a common +soldier in the ranks of the Kinsky regiment. General Schoneck had +obtained the privilege for him from the Marshal, General Pierson +refusing to lift a finger on his behalf. Nevertheless the uncle was not +sorry to hear the tale of his nephew's exploits during the campaign, or +of the eccentric intrepidity of the white umbrella; and both to please +him, and to intercede for Wilfrid, the tatter's old comrades recited +his deeds as a part of the treasured familiar history of the army in its +late arduous struggle. + +General Pierson was chiefly anxious to know whether Countess Lena would +be willing to give her hand to Wilfrid in the event of his restoration +to his antecedent position in the army. He found her extremely excited +about Carlo Ammiani, her old playmate, and once her dear friend. She +would not speak of Wilfrid at all. To appease the chivalrous little +woman, General Pierson hinted that his nephew, being under the +protection of General Schoneck, might get some intelligence from +that officer. Lena pretended to reject the notion of her coming into +communication with Wilfrid for any earthly purpose. She said to herself, +however, that her object was pre-eminently unselfish; and as the General +pointedly refused to serve her in a matter that concerned an Italian +nobleman, she sent directions to Wilfrid to go before General Schoeneck +the moment he was off duty, and ask his assistance, in her name, to +elucidate the mystery of Count Ammiani's behaviour. The answer was a +transmission of Captain Weisspriess's letter to Carlo. Lena caused +the fact of this letter having missed its way to be circulated in the +journals, and then she carried it triumphantly to her sister, saying: + +“There! I knew these reports were abase calumny.” + +“Reports, to what effect?” said Anna. + +“That Carlo Ammiani had slunk from a combat with your duellist.” + +“Oh! I knew that myself,” Anna remarked. + +“You were the loudest in proclaiming it.” + +“Because I intend to ruin him.” + +“Carlo Ammiani? What has he done to you?” + +Anna's eyes had fallen on the additional lines of the letter which she +had not dictated. She frowned and exclaimed: + +“What is this? Does the man play me false? Read those lines, Lena, and +tell me, does the man mean to fight in earnest who can dare to write +them? He advises Ammiani to go to Venice. It's treason, if it is not +cowardice. And see here--he has the audacity to say that he deeply +respects the lady Ammiani is going to marry. Is Ammiani going to marry +her? I think not.” + +Anna dashed the letter to the floor. + +“But I will make use of what's within my reach,” she said, picking it +up. + +“Carlo Ammiani will marry her, I presume,” said Lena. + +“Not before he has met Captain Weisspriess, who, by the way, has +obtained his majority. And, Lena, my dear, write to inform him that we +wish to offer him our congratulations. He will be a General officer in +good time.” + +“Perhaps you forget that Count Ammiani is a perfect swordsman, Anna.” + +“Weisspriess remembers it for me, perhaps;--is that your idea, Lena?” + +“He might do so profitably. You have thrown him on two swords.” + +“Merely to provoke the third. He is invincible. If he were not, where +would his use be?” + +“Oh, how I loathe revenge!” cried Lena. + +“You cannot love!” her sister retorted. “That woman calling herself +Vittoria Campa shall suffer. She has injured and defied me. How was it +that she behaved to us at Meran? She is mixed up with assassins; she is +insolent--a dark-minded slut; and she catches stupid men. My brother, my +country, and this weak Weisspriess, as I saw him lying in the Ultenthal, +cry out against her. I have no sleep. I am not revengeful. Say it, say +it, all of you! but I am not. I am not unforgiving. I worship justice, +and a black deed haunts me. Let the wicked be contrite and washed in +tears, and I think I can pardon them. But I will have them on their +knees. I hate that woman Vittoria more than I hate Angelo Guidascarpi. +Look, Lena. If both were begging for life to me, I would send him to the +gallows and her to her bedchamber; and all because I worship justice, +and believe it to be the weapon of the good and pious. You have a baby's +heart; so has Karl. He declines to second Weisspriess; he will have +nothing to do with duelling; he would behold his sisters mocked in the +streets and pass on. He talks of Paul's death like a priest. Priests +are worthy men; a great resource! Give me a priests lap when I need it. +Shall I be condemned to go to the priest and leave that woman singing? +If I did, I might well say the world's a snare, a sham, a pitfall, a +horror! It's what I don't think in any degree. It's what you think, +though. Yes, whenever you are vexed you think it. So do the priests, and +so do all who will not exert themselves to chastise. I, on the contrary, +know that the world is not made up of nonsense. Write to Weisspriess +immediately; I must have him here in an hour.” + +Weisspriess, on visiting the ladies to receive their congratulations, +was unprepared for the sight of his letter to Carlo Ammiani, which Anna +thrust before him after he had saluted her, bidding him read it aloud. +He perused it in silence. He was beginning to be afraid of his mistress. + +“I called you Austria once, for you were always ready,” Anna said, and +withdrew from him, that the sung of her words might take effect. + +“God knows, I have endeavoured to earn the title in my humble way,” + Weisspriess appealed to Lena. + +“Yes, Major Weisspriess, you have,” she said. “Be Austria still, and +forbear toward these people as much as you can. To beat them is enough, +in my mind. I am rejoiced that you have not met Count Ammiani, for if +you had, two friends of mine, equally dear and equally skilful, would +have held their lives at one another's mercy.” + +“Equally!” said Weisspriess, and pulled out the length of his moustache. + +“Equally courageous,” Lena corrected herself. “I never distrusted Count +Ammiani's courage, nor could distrust yours.” + +“Equally dear!” Weisspriess tried to direct a concentrated gaze on her. + +Lena evaded an answer by speaking of the rumour of Count Ammiani's +marriage. + +Weisspriess was thinking with all the sagacious penetration of the +military mind, that perhaps this sister was trying to tell him that she +would be willing to usurp the piece of the other in his affections; and +if so, why should she not? + +“I may cherish the idea that I am dear to you, Countess Lena?” + +“When you are formally betrothed to my sister, you will know you are +very dear to me, Major Weisspriess.” + +“But,” said he, perceiving his error, “how many persons am I to call out +before she will consent to a formal betrothal?” + +Lena was half smiling at the little tentative bit of sentiment she had +so easily turned aside. Her advice to him was to refuse to fight, seeing +that he had done sufficient for glory and his good name. + +He mentioned Major Nagen as a rival. + +Upon this she said: “Hear me one minute. I was in my sister's bed-room +on the first night when she knew of your lying wounded in the Ultenthal. +She told you just now that she called you Austria. She adores our +Austria in you. The thought that you had been vanquished seemed like our +Austria vanquished, and she is so strong for Austria that it is really +out of her power to fancy you as defeated without suspecting foul play. +So when she makes you fight, she thinks you safe. Many are to go down +because you have gone down. Do you not see? And now, Major Weisspriess, +I need not expose my sister to you any more, I hope, or depreciate Major +Nagen for your satisfaction.” + +Weisspriess had no other interview with Anna for several days. She +shunned him openly. Her carriage moved off when he advanced to meet her +at the parade, or review of arms; and she did not scruple to speak in +public with Major Nagen, in the manner of those who have begun to speak +together in private. The offender received his punishment gracefully, +as men will who have been taught that it flatters them. He refused every +challenge. From Carlo Ammiani there came not a word. + +It would have been a deadly lull to any fiery temperament engaged in +plotting to destroy a victim, but Anna had the patience of hatred--that +absolute malignity which can measure its exultation rather by the +gathering of its power to harm than by striking. She could lay it aside, +or sink it to the bottom of her emotions, at will, when circumstances +appeared against it. And she could do this without fretful regrets, +without looking to the future. The spirit of her hatred extracted its +own nourishment from things, like an organized creature. When foiled +she became passive, and she enjoyed--forced herself compliantly to +enjoy--her redoubled energy of hatred voluptuously, if ever a turn in +events made wreck of her scheming. She hated Vittoria for many reasons, +all of them vague within her bosom because the source of them was +indefinite and lay in the fact of her having come into collision with an +opposing nature, whose rivalry was no visible rivalry, whose triumph +was an ignorance of scorn--a woman who attracted all men, who scattered +injuries with insolent artlessness, who never appealed to forgiveness, +and was a low-born woman daring to be proud. By repute Anna was +implacable, but she had, and knew she had, the capacity for magnanimity +of a certain kind; and her knowledge of the existence of this +unsuspected fund within her justified in some degree her reckless +efforts to pull her enemy down on her knees. It seemed doubly right that +she should force Vittoria to penitence, as being good for the woman, and +an end that exonerated her own private sins committed to effect it. + +Yet she did not look clearly forward to the day of Vittoria's imploring +for mercy. She had too many vexations to endure: she was an insufficient +schemer, and was too frequently thwarted to enjoy that ulterior +prospect. Her only servile instruments were Major Nagen, and Irma, who +came to her from the Villa Ricciardi, hot to do her rival any deadly +injury; but though willing to attempt much, these were apparently able +to perform little more than the menial work of vengeance. Major Nagen +wrote in the name of Weisspriess to Count Ammiani, appointing a second +meeting at Como, and stating that he would be at the villa of the +Duchess of Graatli there. Weisspriess was unsuspectingly taken down to +the place by Anna and Lena. There was a gathering of such guests as the +duchess alone among her countrywomen could assemble, under the patronage +of the conciliatory Government, and the duchess projected to give a +series of brilliant entertainments in the saloons of the Union, as +she named her house-roof. Count Serabiglione arrived, as did numerous +Moderates and priest-party men, Milanese garrison officers and others. +Laura Piaveni travelled with Countess d'Isorella and the happy Adela +Sedley, from Lago Maggiore. + +Laura came, as she cruelly told her friend, for the purpose of making +Victoria's excuses to the duchess. “Why can she not come herself?” + Amalia persisted in asking, and began to be afflicted with womanly +curiosity. Laura would do nothing but shrug and smile, and repeat +her message. A little after sunset, when the saloons were lighted, +Weisspriess, sitting by his Countess Anna's side, had a slip of paper +placed in his hands by one of the domestics. He quitted his post +frowning with astonishment, and muttered once, “My appointment!” Laura +noticed that Anna's heavy eyelids lifted to shoot an expressive glance +at Violetta d'Isorella. She said: “Can that have been anything hostile, +do you suppose?” and glanced slyly at her friend. + +“No, no,” said Amalia; “the misunderstanding is explained, and Major +Weisspriess is just as ready as Count Ammiani to listen to reason. +Besides, Count Ammiani is not so unfriendly but that if he came so near +he would come up to me, surely.” + +Laura brought Amalia's observation to bear upon Anna and Violetta by +turning pointedly from one to the other as she said: “As for reason, +perhaps you have chosen the word. If Count Ammiani attended an +appointment this time, he would be unreasonable.” + +A startled “Why?”--leaped from Anna's lips. She reddened at her +impulsive clumsiness. + +Laura raised her shoulders slightly: “Do you not know?” The expression +of her face reproved Violetta, as for remissness in transmitting secret +intelligence. “You can answer why, countess,” she addressed the +latter, eager to exercise her native love of conflict with this +doubtfully-faithful countrywoman;--the Austrian could feel that she had +beaten her on the essential point, and afford to give her any number of +dialectical victories. + +“I really cannot answer why,” Violetta said; “unless Count Ammiani is, +as I venture to hope, better employed.” + +“But the answer is charming and perfect,” said Laura. + +“Enigmatical answers are declared to be so when they come from us +women,” the duchess remarked; “but then, I fancy, women must not be the +hearers, or they will confess that they are just as much bewildered and +irritated as I am. Do speak out, my dearest. How is he better employed?” + +Laura passed her eyes around the group of ladies. “If any hero of yours +had won the woman he loves, he would be right in thinking it folly to be +bound by the invitation to fight, or feast, or what you will, within a +space of three months or so; do you not agree with me?” + +The different emotions on many visages made the scene curious. + +“Count Ammiani has married her!” exclaimed the duchess. + +“My old friend Carlo is really married!” said Lena. + +Anna stared at Violetta. + +The duchess, recovering from her wonder, confirmed the news by saying +that she now knew why M. Powys had left Milan in haste, three or four +days previously, as she was aware that the bride had always wished him +to be present at the ceremony of her marriage. + +“Signora, may I ask you, were you present?” Violetta addressed Laura. + +“I will answer most honestly that I was not,” said Laura. + +“The marriage was a secret one; perhaps?” + +“Even for friends, you see.” + +“Necessarily, no doubt,” Lena said, with an idea of easing her sister's +stupefaction by a sarcasm foreign to her sentiments. + +Adela Sedley, later in exactly comprehending what had been spoken, +glanced about for some one who would not be unsympathetic to her +exclamation, and suddenly beheld her brother entering the room with +Weisspriess. “Wilfrid! Wilfrid! do you know she is married?” + +“So they tell me,” Wilfrid replied, while making his bow to the duchess. +He was much broken in appearance, but wore his usual collected manner. +Who had told him of the marriage? A person downstairs, he said; not +Count Ammiani; not signor Balderini; no one whom he saw present, no one +whom he knew. + +“A very mysterious person,” said the duchess. + +“Then it's true after all,” cried Laura. “I did but guess it.” She +assured Violetta that she had only guessed it. + +“Does Major Weisspriess know it to be true?” The question came from +Anna. + +Weisspriess coolly verified it, on the faith of a common servant's +communication. + +The ladies could see that some fresh piece of mystery lay between him +and Wilfrid. + +“With whom have you had an interview, and what have you heard?” asked +Lena, vexed by Wilfrid's pallid cheeks. + +Both men stammered and protested, out of conceit, and were as foolish as +men are when pushed to play at mutual concealment. + +The duchess's chasseur, Jacob Baumwalder Feckelwitz, stepped up to his +mistress and whispered discreetly. She gazed straight at Laura. After +hesitation she shook her head, and the chasseur retired. Amalia then +came to the rescue of the unhappy military wits that were standing a +cross-fire of sturdy interrogation. + +“Do you not perceive what it is?” she said to Anna. “Major Weisspriess +meets Private Pierson at the door of my house, and forgets that he is +well-born and my guest. I may be revolutionary, but I declare that in +plain clothes Private Pierson is the equal of Major Weisspriess. If +bravery made men equals, who would be Herr Pierson's superior? Ire has +done me the honour, at a sacrifice of his pride, I am sure, to come here +and meet his sister, and rejoice me with his society. Major Weisspriess, +if I understand the case correctly, you are greatly to blame.” + +“I beg to assert,” Weisspriess was saying as the duchess turned her +shoulder on him. + +“There is really no foundation,” Wilfrid began, with similar simplicity. + +“What will sharpen the wits of these soldiers!” the duchess murmured +dolefully to Laura. + +“But Major Weisspriess was called out of his room by a message--was that +from Private Pierson?” said Anna. + +“Assuredly; I should presume so,” the duchess answered for them. + +“Ay; undoubtedly,” Weisspriess supported her. + +“Then,” Laura smiled encouragement to Wilfrid, “you know nothing of +Count Ammiani's marriage after all?” + +Wilfrid launched his reply on a sharp repression of his breath, “Nothing +whatever.” + +“And the common servant's communication was not made to you?” Anna +interrogated Weisspriess. + +“I simply followed in the track of Pierson,” said that officer, masking +his retreat from the position with a duck of his head and a smile, tooth +on lip. + +“How could you ever suppose, child, that a common servant would be +sent to deliver such tidings? and to Major Weisspriess!” the duchess +interposed. + +This broke up the Court of inquiry. + +Weisspriess shortly after took his leave, on the plea that he wished to +prove his friendliness by accompanying Private Pierson, who had to be on +duty early next day in Milan. Amalia had seen him breaking from Anna +in extreme irritation, and he had only to pledge his word that he was +really bound for Milan to satisfy her. “I believe you to be at heart +humane,” she said meaningly. + +“Duchess, you may be sure that I would not kill an enemy save on the +point of my sword,” he answered her. + +“You are a gallant man,” said Amalia, and pride was in her face as she +looked on him. + +She willingly consented to Wilfrid's sudden departure, as it was evident +that some shot had hit him hard. + +On turning to Laura, the duchess beheld an aspect of such shrewd disgust +that she was provoked to exclaim: “What on earth is the matter now?” + +Laura would favour her with no explanation until they were alone in the +duchess's boudoir, when she said that to call Weisspriess a gallant man +was an instance of unblushing adulation of brutal strength: “Gallant for +slaying a boy? Gallant because he has force of wrist?” + +“Yes; gallant;--an honour to his countrymen: and an example to some of +yours,” Amalia rejoined. + +“See,” cried Laura, “to what a degeneracy your excess of national +sentiment reduces you!” + +While she was flowing on, the duchess leaned a hand across her shoulder, +and smiling kindly, said she would not allow her to utter words that she +would have to eat. “You saw my chasseur step up to me this evening, my +Laura? Well, not to torment you, he wished to sound an alarm cry after +Angelo Guidascarpi. I believe my conjecture is correct, that Angelo +Guidascarpi was seen by Major Weisspriess below, and allowed to pass +free. Have you no remark to make?” + +“None,” said Laura. + +“You cannot admit that he behaved like a gallant man?” Laura sighed +deeply. “Perhaps it was well for you to encourage him!” + +The mystery of Angelo's interview with Weisspriess was cleared the +next night, when in the midst of a ball-room's din, Aennchen, Amalia's +favourite maid, brought a letter to Laura from Countess Ammiani. These +were the contents: + +“DEAREST SIGNORA, + +“You now learn a new and blessed thing. God make the marriage fruitful! +I have daughter as well as son. Our Carlo still hesitated, for hearing +of the disgraceful rumours in Milan, he fancied a duty lay there for him +to do. Another menace came to my daughter from the madman Barto Rizzo. +God can use madmen to bring about the heavenly designs. We decided that +Carlo's name should cover her. My son was like a man who has awakened +up. M. Powys was our good genius. He told her that he had promised you +to bring it about. He, and Angelo, and myself, were the witnesses. So +much before heaven! I crossed the lake with them to Stress. I was her +tirewoman, with Giacinta, to whom I will give a husband for the tears of +joy she dropped upon the bed. Blessed be it! I placed my daughter in my +Carlo's arms. Both kissed their mother at parting. + +“This is something fixed. I had great fears during the war. You do not +yet know what it is to have a sonless son in peril. Terror and remorse +haunted me for having sent the last Ammiani out to those fields, +unattached to posterity. + +“An envelope from Milan arrived on the morning of his nuptials. It was +intercepted by me. The German made a second appointment at Como. Angelo +undertook to assist me in saving my son's honour. So my Carlo had +nothing to disturb his day. Pray with me, Laura Piaveni, that the day +and the night of it may prove fresh springs of a river that shall pass +our name through the happier mornings of Italy! I commend you to God, my +dear, and am your friend, + + “MARCCELLINA, COUNTESS AMMIANI. + +“P.S. Countess Alessandra will be my daughter's name.” + +The letter was read and re-read before the sweeter burden it contained +would allow Laura to understand that Countess Ammiani had violated a +seal and kept a second hostile appointment hidden from her son. + +“Amalia, you detest me,” she said, when they had left the guests for a +short space, and the duchess had perused the letter, “but acknowledge +Angelo Guidascarpi's devotion. He came here in the midst of you Germans, +at the risk of his life, to offer battle for his cousin.” + +The duchess, however, had much more to say for the magnanimity of Major +Weisspriess, who, if he saw him, had spared him; she compelled Laura to +confess that Weisspriess must have behaved with some nobleness, which +Laura did, humming and I 'brumming,' and hinting at the experience he +had gained of Angelo's skill. Her naughtiness provoked first, and then +affected Amalia; in this mood the duchess had the habit of putting on a +grand air of pitying sadness. Laura knew it well, and never could make +head against it. She wavered, as a stray floating thing detached from an +eddy whirls and passes on the flood. Close on Amalia's bosom she sobbed +out: “Yes; you Austrians have good qualities some: many! but you choose +to think us mean because we can't readily admit them when we are under +your heels. Just see me; what a crumb feeds me! I am crying with delight +at a marriage!” + +The duchess clasped her fondly. + +“It's not often one gets you so humble, my Laura.” + +“I am crying with delight at a marriage! Amalia, look at me: you would +suppose it a mighty triumph. A marriage! two little lovers lying cheek +to cheek! and me blessing heaven for its goodness! and there may be dead +men unburied still on the accursed Custozza hill-top!” + +Amalia let her weep. The soft affection which the duchess bore to her +was informed with a slight touch of envy of a complexion that could be +torn with tears one minute, and the next be fit to show in public. +No other thing made her regard her friend as a southern--that is, a +foreign-woman. + +“Be patient,” Laura said. + +“Cry; you need not be restrained,” said Amalia. + +“You sighed.” + +“No!” + +“A sort of sigh. My fit's over. Carlo's marriage is too surprising and +delicious. I shall be laughing presently. I hinted at his marriage--I +thought it among the list of possible things, no more--to see if that +crystal pool, called Violetta d'Isorella, could be discoloured by +stirring. Did you watch her face? I don't know what she wanted with +Carlo, for she's cold as poison--a female trifler; one of those women +whom I, and I have a chaste body, despise as worse than wantons; but +she certainly did not want him to be married. It seems like a +victory--though we're beaten. You have beaten us, my dear!” + +“My darling! it is your husband kisses you,” said Amalia, kissing +Laura's forehead from a full heart. + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +THROUGH THE WINTER + +Weisspriess and Wilfrid made their way toward Milan together, silently +smoking, after one attempt at conversation, which touched on Vittoria's +marriage; but when they reached Monza the officer slapped his degraded +brother in arms upon the shoulder, and asked him whether he had any +inclination to crave permission to serve in Hungary. For his own part, +Weisspriess said that he should quit Italy at once; he had here to +skewer the poor devils, one or two weekly, or to play the mightily +generous; in short, to do things unsoldierly; and he was desirous of +getting away from the country. General Schoneck was at Monza, and might +arrange the matter for them both. Promotion was to be looked for in +Hungary; the application would please the General; one battle would +restore the lieutenant's star to Wilfrid's collar. Wilfrid, who had been +offended by his companion's previous brooding silence, nodded briefly, +and they stopped at Monza, where they saw General Schoneck in the +morning, and Wilfrid being by extraordinary favour in civilian's dress +during his leave of absence, they were jointly invited to the General's +table at noon, though not to meet any other officer. General Schoneck +agreed with Weisspriess that Hungary would be a better field for +Wilfrid; said he would do his utmost to serve them in the manner they +wished, and dismissed them after the second cigar. They strolled about +the city, glad for reasons of their own to be out of Milan as long as +the leave permitted. At night, when they were passing a palace in one +of the dark streets, a feather, accompanied by a sharp sibilation from +above, dropped on Wilfrid's face. Weisspriess held the feather up, and +judged by its length that it was an eagle's, and therefore belonging to +the Hungarian Hussar regiment stationed in Milan. “The bird's aloft,” he +remarked. His voice aroused a noise of feet that was instantly still. +He sent a glance at the doorways, where he thought he discerned men. +Fetching a whistle in with his breath, he unsheathed his sword, and +seeing that Wilfrid had no weapon, he pushed him to a gate of the +palace-court that had just cautiously turned a hinge. Wilfrid found his +hand taken by a woman's hand inside. The gate closed behind him. He was +led up to an apartment where, by the light of a darkly-veiled lamp, +he beheld a young Hungarian officer and a lady clinging to his neck, +praying him not to go forth. Her Italian speech revealed how matters +stood in this house. The officer accosted Wilfrid: “But you are not one +of us!” He repeated it to the lady: “You see, the man is not one of us!” + +She assured him that she had seen the uniform when she dropped the +feather, and wept protesting it. + +“Louis, Louis! why did you come to-night! why did I make you come! You +will be slain. I had my warning, but I was mad.” + +The officer hushed her with a quick squeeze of her inter-twisted +fingers. + +“Are you the man to take a sword and be at my back, sir?” he said; +and resumed in a manner less contemptuous toward the civil costume: “I +request it for the sole purpose of quieting this lady's fears.” + +Wilfrid explained who and what he was. On hearing that he was General +Pierson's nephew the officer laughed cheerfully, and lifted the veil +from the lamp, by which Wilfrid knew him to be Colonel Prince Radocky, +a most gallant and the handsomest cavalier in the Imperial service. +Radocky laughed again when he was told of Weisspriess keeping guard +below. + +“Aha! we are three, and can fight like a pyramid.” + +He flourished his hand above the lady's head, and called for a sword. +The lady affected to search for one while he stalked up and down in +the jaunty fashion of a Magyar horseman; but the sword was not to be +discovered without his assistance, and he was led away in search of it. +The moment he was alone Wilfrid burst into tears. He could bear anything +better than the sight of fondling lovers. When they rejoined him, +Radocky had evidently yielded some point; he stammered and worked his +underlip on his moustache. The lady undertook to speak for him. Happily +for her, she said, Wilfrid would not compromise her; and taking her +lover's hand, she added with Italian mixture of wit and grace: “Happily +for me, too, he does. The house is surrounded by enemies; it is a reign +of terror for women. I am dead, if they slay him; but if they recognize +him, I am lost.” + +Wilfrid readily leaped to her conclusion. He offered his opera-hat and +civil mantle to Radocky, who departed in them, leaving his military +cloak in exchange. During breathless seconds the lady hung kneeling at +the window. When the gate opened there was a noise as of feet preparing +to rush; Weisspriess uttered an astonished cry, but addressed Radocky as +“my Pierson!” lustily and frequently; and was heard putting a number of +meaningless questions, laughing and rallying Pierson till the two passed +out of hearing unmolested. The lady then kissed a Cross passionately, +and shivered Wilfrid's manhood by asking him whether he knew what love +was. She went on: + +“Never, never love a married woman! It's a past practice. Never! Thrust +a spike in the palm of your hands drink scalding oil, rather than do +that.” + +“The Prince Radocky is now safe,” Wilfrid said. + +“Yes, he is safe; and he is there, and I am here: and I cannot follow +him; and when will he come to me?” + +The tones were lamentable. She struck her forehead, after she had mutely +thrust her hand to right and left to show the space separating her from +her lover. + +Her voice changed when she accepted Wilfrid's adieux, to whose fate in +the deadly street she appeared quite indifferent, though she gave him +one or two prudent directions, and expressed a hope that she might be of +service to him. + +He was set upon as soon as he emerged from the gateway; the cavalry +cloak was torn from his back, and but for the chance circumstance of his +swearing in English, he would have come to harm. A chill went through +his blood on hearing one of his assailants speak the name of Barto +Rizzo. The English oath stopped an arm that flashed a dagger half its +length. Wilfrid obeyed a command to declare his name, his country, +and his rank. “It's not the prince! it's not the Hungarian!” went many +whispers; and he was drawn away by a man who requested him to deliver +his reasons for entering the palace, and who appeared satisfied by +Wilfrid's ready mixture of invention and fact. But the cloak! Wilfrid +stated boldly that the cloak was taken by him from the Duchess of +Graatli's at Como; that he had seen a tall Hussar officer slip it off +his shoulders; that he had wanted a cloak, and had appropriated it. +He had entered the gate of the palace because of a woman's hand that +plucked at the skirts of this very cloak. + +“I saw you enter,” said the man; “do that no more. We will not have +the blood of Italy contaminated--do you hear? While that half-Austrian +Medole is tip-toeing 'twixt Milan and Turin, we watch over his honour, +to set an example to our women and your officers. You have outwitted us +to-night. Off with you!” + +Wilfrid was twirled and pushed through the crowd till he got free of +them. He understood very well that they were magnanimous rascals who +could let an accomplice go, though they would have driven steel into the +principal. + +Nothing came of this adventure for some time. Wilfrid's reflections +(apart from the horrible hard truth of Vittoria's marriage, against +which he dashed his heart perpetually, almost asking for anguish) had +leisure to examine the singularity of his feeling a commencement of +pride in the clasping of his musket;--he who on the first day of his +degradation had planned schemes to stick the bayonet-point between his +breast-bones: he thought as well of the queer woman's way in Countess +Medole's adjuration to him that he should never love a married +woman;--in her speaking, as it seemed, on his behalf, when it was but an +outcry of her own acute wound. Did he love a married woman? He wanted +to see one married woman for the last time; to throw a frightful look on +her; to be sublime in scorn of her; perhaps to love her all the better +for the cruel pain, in the expectation of being consoled. While doing +duty as a military machine, these were the pictures in his mind; and +so well did his routine drudgery enable him to bear them, that when +he heard from General Schoneck that the term of his degradation was to +continue in Italy, and from his sister that General Pierson refused +to speak of him or hear of him until he had regained his gold +shoulder-strap, he revolted her with an ejaculation of gladness, and +swore brutally that he desired to have no advancement; nothing but sleep +and drill; and, he added conscientiously, Havannah cigars. “He has +grown to be like a common soldier,” Adela said to herself with an +amazed contemplation of the family tie. Still, she worked on his behalf, +having, as every woman has, too strong an instinct as to what is natural +to us to believe completely in any eccentric assertion. She carried the +tale of his grief and trials and his romantic devotion to the Imperial +flag, daily to Countess Lena; persisting, though she could not win a +responsive look from Lena's face. + +One day on the review-ground, Wilfrid beheld Prince Radocky bending from +his saddle in conversation with Weisspriess. The prince galloped up to +General Pierson, and stretched his hand to where Wilfrid was posted +as marker to a wheeling column, kept the hand stretched out, and spoke +furiously, and followed the General till he was ordered to head his +regiment. Wilfrid began to hug his musket less desperately. Little +presents--feminine he knew by the perfumes floating round them,--gloves +and cigars, fine handkerchiefs, and silks for wear, came to his +barracks. He pretended to accuse his sister of sending them. She in +honest delight accused Lena. Lena then accused herself of not having +done so. + +It was winter: Vittoria had been seen in Milan. Both Lena and Wilfrid +spontaneously guessed her to be the guilty one. He made a funeral pyre +of the gifts and gave his sister the ashes, supposing that she had +guessed with the same spirited intuition. It suited Adela to relate this +lover's performance to Lena. “He did well!” Lena said, and kissed Adela +for the first time. Adela was the bearer of friendly messages to the +poor private in the ranks. From her and from little Jenna, Wilfrid heard +that he was unforgotten by Countess Lena, and new hopes mingled with +gratitude caused him to regard his situation seriously. He confessed to +his sister that the filthy fellows, his comrades, were all but too much +for him, and asked her to kiss him, that he might feel he was not one +of them. But he would not send a message in reply to Lena. “That is also +well!” Lena said. Her brother Karl was a favourite with General Pierson. +She proposed that Adela and herself should go to Count Karl, and urge +him to use his influence with the General. This, however, Adela was +disinclined to do; she could not apparently say why. When Lena went to +him, she was astonished to hear that he knew every stage of her advance +up to the point of pardoning her erratic lover; and even knew as much +as that Wilfrid's dejected countenance on the night when Vittoria's +marriage was published in the saloon of the duchess on Lake Como, had +given her fresh offence. He told her that many powerful advocates were +doing their best for the down-fallen officer, who, if he were shot, or +killed, would still be gazetted an officer. “A nice comfort!” said Lena, +and there was a rallying exchange of banter between them, out of +which she drew the curious discovery that Karl had one of his strong +admirations for the English lady. “Surely!” she said to herself; “I +thought they were all so cold.” And cold enough the English lady seemed +when Lena led to the theme. “Do I admire your brother, Countess Lena? +Oh! yes;--in his uniform exceedingly.” + +Milan was now full. Wilfrid had heard from Adela that Count Ammiani +and his bride were in the city and were strictly watched. Why did not +conspirators like these two take advantage of the amnesty? Why were they +not in Rome? Their Chief was in Rome; their friends were in Rome. Why +were they here? A report, coming from Countess d'Isorella, said that +they had quarrelled with their friends, and were living for love alone. +As she visited the Lenkensteins--high Austrians--some believed her; and +as Count Ammiani and his bride had visited the Duchess of Graatli, it +was thought possible. Adela had refused to see Vittoria; she did not +even know the house where Count Ammiani dwelt; so Wilfrid was reduced +to find it for himself. Every hour when off duty the miserable +sentimentalist wandered in that direction, nursing the pangs of a +delicious tragedy of emotions; he was like a drunkard going to his +draught. As soon as he had reached the head of the Corso, he wheeled +and marched away from it with a lofty head, internally grinning at his +abject folly, and marvelling at the stiff figure of an Austrian common +soldier which flashed by the windows as he passed. He who can unite +prudence and madness, sagacity and stupidity, is the true buffoon; nor, +vindictive as were his sensations, was Wilfrid unaware of the contrast +of Vittoria's soul to his own, that was now made up of antics. He could +not endure the tones of cathedral music; but he had at times to kneel +and listen to it, and be overcome. + +On a night in the month of February, a servant out of livery addressed +him at the barrack-gates, requesting him to go at once to a certain +hotel, where his sister was staying. He went, and found there, not his +sister, but Countess Medole. She smiled at his confusion. Both she and +the prince, she said, had spared no effort to get him reinstated in +his rank; but his uncle continually opposed the endeavours of all his +friends to serve him. This interview was dictated by the prince's wish, +so that he might know them to be a not ungrateful couple. Wilfrid's +embarrassment in standing before a lady in private soldier's uniform, +enabled him with very peculiar dignity to declare that his present +degradation, from the General's point of view, was a just punishment, +and he did not crave to have it abated. She remarked that it must end +soon. He made a dim allusion to the littleness of humanity. She laughed. +“It's the language of an unfortunate lover,” she said, and straightway, +in some undistinguished sentence, brought the name of Countess +Alessandra Ammiani tingling to his ears. She feared that she could +not be of service to him there; “at least, not just yet,” the lady +astonished him by remarking. “I might help you to see her. If you take +my advice you will wait patiently. You know us well enough to understand +what patience will do. She is supposed to have married for love. Whether +she did or not, you must allow a young married woman two years' grace.” + +The effect of speech like this, and more in a similar strain of frank +corruptness, was to cleanse Wilfrid's mind, and nerve his heart, and he +denied that he had any desire to meet the Countess Ammiani, unless he +could perform a service that would be agreeable to her. + +The lady shrugged. “Well, that is one way. She has enemies, of course.” + +Wilfrid begged for their names. + +“Who are they not?” she replied. “Chiefly women, it is true.” + +He begged most earnestly for their names; he would have pleaded +eloquently, but dreaded that the intonation of one in his low garb might +be taken for a whine; yet he ventured to say that if the countess did +imagine herself indebted to him in a small degree, the mention of two +or three of the names of Countess Alessandra Ammiani's enemies would +satisfy him. + +“Countess Lena von Lenkenstein, Countess Violetta d'Isorella, signorina +Irma di Karski.” + +She spoke the names out like a sum that she was paying down in gold +pieces, and immediately rang the bell for her servant and carriage, +as if she had now acquitted her debt. Wilfrid bowed himself forth. A +resolution of the best kind, quite unconnected with his interests or his +love, urged him on straight to the house of the Lenkensteins, where he +sent up his name to Countess Lena. After a delay of many minutes, Count +Lenkenstein accompanied by General Pierson came down, both evidently +affecting not to see him. The General barely acknowledged his salute. + +“Hey! Kinsky!” the count turned in the doorway to address him by +the title of his regiment; “here; show me the house inhabited by the +Countess d'Isorella during the revolt.” + +Wilfrid followed them to the end of the street, pointing his finger to +the house, and saluted. + +“An Englishman did me the favour--from pure eccentricity, of course--to +save my life on that exact spot, General,” said the count. “Your +countrymen usually take the other side; therefore I mention it.” + +As Wilfrid was directing his steps to barracks (the little stir to +his pride superinduced by these remarks having demoralized him), Count +Lenkenstein shouted: “Are you off duty?” Wilfrid had nearly replied that +he was, but just mastered himself in time. “No, indeed!” said the count, +“when you have sent up your name to a lady.” This time General Pierson +put two fingers formally to his cap, and smiled grimly at the private's +rigid figure of attention. If Wilfrid's form of pride had consented +to let him take delight in the fact, he would have seen at once that +prosperity was ready to shine on him. He nursed the vexations much too +tenderly to give prosperity a welcome; and even when along with Lena, +and convinced of her attachment, and glad of it, he persisted in driving +at the subject which had brought him to her house; so that the veil +of opening commonplaces, pleasant to a couple in their position, was +plucked aside. His business was to ask her why she was the enemy of +Countess Alessandra Ammiani, and to entreat her that she should not seek +to harm that lady. He put it in a set speech. Lena felt that it ought to +have come last, not in advance of their reconciliation. “I will answer +you,” she said. “I am not the Countess Alessandra Ammiani's enemy.” + +He asked her: “Could you be her friend?” + +“Does a woman who has a husband want a friend?” + +“I could reply, countess, in the case of a man who has a bride.” + +By dint of a sweet suggestion here and there, love-making crossed the +topic. It appeared that General Pierson had finally been attacked, on +the question of his resistance to every endeavour to restore Wilfrid to +his rank, by Count Lenkenstein, and had barely spoken the words--that if +Wilfrid came to Countess Lena of his own free-will, unprompted, to beg +her forgiveness, he would help to reinstate him, when Wilfrid's name was +brought up by the chasseur. All had laughed, “Even I,” Lena confessed. +And then the couple had a pleasant petitish wrangle;--he was requested +to avow that he had came solely, or principally, to beg forgiveness of +her, who had such heaps to forgive. No; on his honour, he had come for +the purpose previously stated, and on the spur of his hearing that she +was Countess Alessandra Ammiani's deadly enemy. “Could you believe that +I was?” said Lena; “why should I be?” and he coloured like a lad, which +sign of an ingenuousness supposed to belong to her set, made Lena bold +to take the upper hand. She frankly accused herself of jealousy, though +she did not say of whom. She almost admitted that when the time for +reflection came, she should rejoice at his having sought her to plead +for his friend rather than for her forgiveness. In the end, but with +a drooping pause of her bright swift look at Wilfrid, she promised to +assist him in defeating any machinations against Vittoria's happiness, +and to keep him informed of Countess d'Isorella's movements. Wilfrid +noticed the withdrawing fire of the look. “By heaven! she doubts me +still,” he ejaculated inwardly. + +These half-comic little people have their place in the history of higher +natures and darker destinies. Wilfrid met Pericles, from whom he heard +that Vittoria, with her husband's consent, had pledged herself to sing +publicly. “It is for ze Lombard widows,” Pericles apologized on her +behalf; “but, do you see, I only want a beginning. She thaerst for ze +stage; and it is, after marriage, a good sign. Oh! you shall hear, my +friend; marriage have done her no hurt--ze contrary! You shall hear +Hymen--Cupids--not a cold machine; it is an organ alaif! She has privily +sung to her Pericles, and ser, and if I wake not very late on Judgement. +Day, I shall zen hear--but why should I talk poetry to you, to make you +laugh? I have a divin' passion for zat woman. Do I not give her to a +husband, and say, Be happy! onnly sing! Be kissed! be hugged! only give +Pericles your voice. By Saint Alexandre! it is to say to ze heavens, +Move on your way, so long as you drop rain on us r--you smile--you look +kind.” + +Pericles accompanied him into a caffe, the picture of an enamoured happy +man. He waived aside contemptuously all mention of Vittoria's having +enemies. She had them when, as a virgin, she had no sense. As a woman, +she had none, for she now had sense. Had she not brought her husband to +be sensible, so that they moved together in Milanese society, instead +of stupidly fighting at Rome? so that what he could not take to +himself--the marvellous voice--he let bless the multitude! “She is the +Beethoven of singers,” Pericles concluded. Wilfrid thought so on the +night when she sang to succour the Lombard widows. It was at a concert, +richly thronged; ostentatiously thronged with Austrian uniforms. +He fancied that he could not bear to look on her. He left the house +thinking that to hear her and see her and feel that she was one upon the +earth, made life less of a burden. + +This evening was rendered remarkable by a man's calling out, “You are a +traitress!” while Vittoria stood before the seats. She became pale, and +her eyelids closed. No thinness was subsequently heard in her voice. +The man was caught as he strove to burst through the crowd at the +entrance-door, and proved to be a petty bookseller of Milan, by name +Sarpo, known as an orderly citizen. When taken he was inflamed with +liquor. Next day the man was handed from the civil to the military +authorities, he having confessed to the existence of a plot in the city. +Pericles came fuming to Wilfrid's quarters. Wilfrid gathered from him +that Sarpo's general confession had been retracted: it was too foolish +to snare the credulity of Austrian officials. Sarpo stated that he had +fabricated the story of a plot, in order to escape the persecutions of a +terrible man, and find safety in prison lodgings vender Government. The +short confinement for a civic offence was not his idea of safety; he +desired to be sheltered by Austrian soldiers and a fortress, and said +that his torments were insupportable while Barto Rizzo was at large. +This infamous Republican had latterly been living in his house, eating +his bread, and threatening death to him unless he obeyed every command. +Sarpo had undertaken his last mission for the purpose of supplying his +lack of resolution to release himself from his horrible servitude by any +other means; not from personal animosity toward the Countess Alessandra +Ammiani, known as la Vittoria. When seized, fear had urged him to +escape. Such was his second story. The points seemed irreconcilable +to those who were not in the habit of taking human nature into their +calculations of a possible course of conduct; even Wilfrid, though he +was aware that Barto Rizzo hated Vittoria inveterately, imagined Sarpo's +first lie to have necessarily fathered a second. But the second story +was true: and the something like lover's wrath with which the outrage +to Vittoria fired Pericles, prompted him to act on it as truth. He +told Wilfrid that he should summon Barto Rizzo to his presence. As +the Government was unable to exhibit so much power, Wilfrid looked +sarcastic; whereupon Pericles threw up his chin crying: “Oh! you shall +know my resources. Now, my friend, one bit of paper, and a messenger, +and zen home to my house, to Tokay and cigarettes, and wait to see.” + He remarked after pencilling a few lines, “Countess d'Isorella is her +enemy? hein!” + +“Why, you wouldn't listen to me when I told you,” said Wilfrid. + +“No,” Pericles replied while writing and humming over his pencil; “my +ear is a pelican-pouch, my friend; it--and Irma is her enemy also?--it +takes and keeps, but does not swallow till it wants. I shall hear you, +and I shall hear my Sandra Vittoria, and I shall not know you have +spoken, when by-and-by I tinkle, tinkle, a bell of my brain, and your +word walks in,--'quite well?'--'very well! '--sit down'--'if it is +ze same to you, I prefer to stand'--'good; zen I examine you.' +My motto:--'Time opens ze gates: my system: 'it is your doctor of +regiment's system when your twelve, fifteen, forty recruits strip to +him:--'Ah! you, my man, have varicose vein: no soldier in our regiment, +you!' So on. Perhaps I am not intelligible; but, hear zis. I speak not +often of my money; but I say--it is in your ear--a man of millions, he +is a king!” The Greek jumped up and folded a couple of notes. “I will +not have her disturbed. Let her sing now and awhile to Pericles and his +public: and to ze Londoners, wiz your permission, Count Ammiani, one +saison. I ask no more, and I am satisfied, and I endow your oldest +child, signor Conte--it is said! For its mama was a good girl, a brave +girl; she troubled Pericles, because he is an intellect; but he forgives +when he sees sincerity--rare zing! Sincerity and genius: it may be zey +are as man and wife in a bosom. He forgives; it is not onnly voice he +craves, but a soul, and Sandra, your countess, she has a soul--I am not +a Turk. I say, it is a woman in whom a girl I did see a soul! A woman +when she is married, she is part of ze man; but a soul, it is for ever +alone, apart, confounded wiz nobody! For it I followed Sandra, your +countess. It was a sublime devotion of a dog. Her voice tsrilled, her +soul possessed me, Your countess is my Sandra still. I shall be pleased +if child-bearing trouble her not more zan a very little; but, enfin! she +is married, and you and I, my friend Wilfrid, we must accept ze decree, +and say, no harm to her out of ze way of nature, by Saint Nicolas! or +any what saint you choose for your invocation. Come along. And speed my +letters by one of your militaires at once off. Are Pericles' millions +gold of bad mint? If so, he is an incapable. He presumes it is not so. +Come along; we will drink to her in essence of Tokay. You shall witness +two scenes. Away!” + +Wilfrid was barely to be roused from his fit of brooding into which +Pericles had thrown him. He sent the letters, and begged to be left to +sleep. The image of Vittoria seen through this man's mind was new, and +brought a new round of torments. “The devil take you,” he cried when +Pericles plucked at his arm, “I've sent the letters; isn't that enough?” + He was bitterly jealous of the Greek's philosophic review of the +conditions of Vittoria's marriage; for when he had come away from the +concert, not a thought of her being a wife had clouded his resignation +to the fact. He went with Pericles, nevertheless, and was compelled to +acknowledge the kindling powers of the essence of Tokay. “Where do you +get this stuff?” he asked several times. Pericles chattered of England, +and Hagar's 'Addio,' and 'Camilla.' What cabinet operas would he not +give! What entertainments! Could an emperor offer such festivities to +his subjects? Was a Field Review equal to Vittoria's voice? He stung +Wilfrid's ears by insisting on the mellowed depth, the soft human +warmth, which marriage had lent to the voice. At a late hour his valet +announced Countess d'Isorella. “Did I not say so?” cried Pericles, and +corrected himself: “No, I did not say so; it was a surprise to you, my +friend. You shall see; you shall hear. Now you shall see what a friend +Pericles can be when a person satisfy him.” He pushed Wilfrid into his +dressing-room, and immediately received the countess with an outburst +of brutal invectives--pulling her up and down the ranked regiment of +her misdeeds, as it were. She tried dignity, tried anger, she affected +amazement, she petitioned for the heads of his accusations, and, as +nothing stopped him, she turned to go. Pericles laughed when she +had left the room. Irma di Karski was announced the next minute, and +Countess d'Isorella re-appeared beside her. Irma had a similar greeting. +“I am lost,” she exclaimed. “Yes, you are lost,” said Pericles; “a word +from me, and the back of the public is humped at you--ha! contessa, +you touched Mdlle. Irma's hand? She is to be on her guard, and never to +think she is lost till down she goes? You are a more experienced woman! +I tell you I will have no nonsense. I am Countess Alessandra Ammiani's +friend. You two, you women, are her enemies. I will ruin you both. You +would prevent her singing in public places--you, Countess d'Isorella, +because you do not forgive her marriage to Count Ammiani; you, Irma, +to spite her for her voice. You would hiss her out of hearing, you two +miserable creatures. Not another soldo for you! Not one! and to-morrow, +countess, I will see my lawyer. Irma, begone, and shriek to your +wardrobe! Countess d'Isorella, I have the extreme honour.” + +Wilfrid marvelled to hear this titled and lovely woman speaking almost +in tones of humility in reply to such outrageous insolence. She craved +a private interview. Irma was temporarily expelled, and then Violetta +stooped to ask what the Greek's reason for his behaviour could be. She +admitted that it was in his power to ruin her, as far as money went. +“Perhaps a little farther,” said Pericles; “say two steps. If one is +on a precipice, two steps count for something.” But, what had she done? +Pericles refused to declare it. This set her guessing with a charming +naivete. Pericles called Irma back to assist her in the task, and +quitted them that they might consult together and hit upon the right +thing. His object was to send his valet for Luigi Saracco. He had +seen that no truth could be extracted from these women, save forcibly. +Unaware that he had gone out, Wilfrid listened long enough to hear +Irma say, between sobs: “Oh! I shall throw myself upon his mercy. Oh, +Countess d'Isorella, why did you lead me to think of vengeance! I am +lost! He knows everything. Oh, what is it to me whether she lives with +her husband! Let them go on plotting. I am not the Government. I am sure +I don't much dislike her. Yes, I hate her, but why should I hurt myself? +She will wear those jewels on her forehead; she will wear that necklace +with the big amethysts, and pretend she's humble because she doesn't +carry earrings, when her ears have never been pierced! I am lost! Yes, +you may say, lookup! I am only a poor singer, and he can ruin me. Oh! +Countess d'Isorella, oh! what a fearful punishment. If Countess Anna +should betray Count Ammiani to-night, nothing, nothing, will save me. +I will confess. Let us both be beforehand with her--or you, it does not +matter for a noble lady.” + +“Hush!” said Violetta. “What dreadful fool is this I sit with? You may +have done what you think of doing already.” + +She walked to the staircase door, and to that of the suite. An +honourable sentiment, conjoined to the knowledge that he had heard +sufficient, induced Wilfrid to pass on into the sleeping apartment a +moment or so before Violetta took this precaution. The potent liquor of +Pericles had deprived him of consecutive ideas; he sat nursing a thunder +in his head, imagining it to be profound thought, till Pericles flung +the door open. Violetta and Irma had departed. “Behold! I have it; ze +address of your rogue Barto Rizzo,” said Pericles, in the manner of one +whose triumph is absolutely due to his own shrewdness. “Are two women a +match for me? Now, my friend, you shall see. Barto Rizzo is too clever +for zis government, which cannot catch him. I catch him, and I teach him +he may touch politics--it is not for him to touch Art. What! to hound +men to interrupt her while she sings in public places? What next! But +I knew my Countess d'Isorella could help me, and so I sent for her to +confront Irma, and dare to say she knew not Barto's dwelling--and why? I +will tell you a secret. A long-flattered woman, my friend, she has had, +you will think, enough of it; no! she is like avarice. If it is worship +of swine, she cannot refuse it. Barto Rizzo worships her; so it is a +deduction--she knows his abode--I act upon that, and I arrive at my end. +I now send him to ze devil.” + +Barto Rizzo, after having evaded the polizia of the city during a +three months' steady chase, was effectually captured on the doorstep of +Vittoria's house in the Corso Francesco, by gendarmes whom Pericles had +set on his track. A day later Vittoria was stabbed at about the same +hour, on the same spot. A woman dealt the blow. Vittoria was returning +from an afternoon drive with Laura Piaveni and the children. She saw a +woman seated on the steps as beggarwomen sit, face in lap. Anxious to +shield her from the lacquey, she sent the two little ones up to her with +small bits of money. But, as the woman would not lift her head, she and +Laura prepared to pass her, Laura coming last. The blow, like all such +unexpected incidents, had the effect of lightning on those present; +the woman might have escaped, but after she had struck she sat down +impassive as a cat by the hearth, with a round-eyed stare. + +The news that Vittoria had been assassinated traversed the city. Carlo +was in Turin, Merthyr in Rome. Pericles was one of the first who reached +the house; he was coming out when Wilfrid and the Duchess of Graatli +drove up; and he accused the Countess d'Isorella flatly of having +instigated the murder. He was frantic. They supposed that she must have +succumbed to the wound. The duchess sent for Laura. There was a press +of carriages and soft-humming people in the street; many women and +men sobbing. Wilfrid had to wait an hour for the duchess, who brought +comfort when she came. Her first words were reassuring. “Ah!” she said, +“did I not do well to make you drive here with me instead of with Lena? +Those eyes of yours would be unpardonable to her. Yes, indeed; though a +corpse were lying in this house; but Countess Alessandra is safe. I have +seen her. I have held her hand.” + +Wilfrid kissed the duchess's hand passionately. + +What she had said of Lena was true: Lena could only be generous upon the +after-thought; and when the duchess drove Wilfrid back to her, he had +to submit to hear scorn: and indignation against all Italians, who +were denounced as cut-throats, and worse and worse and worse, males +and females alike. This way grounded on her sympathy for Vittoria. But +Wilfrid now felt toward the Italians through his remembrance of that +devoted soul's love of them, and with one direct look he bade his +betrothed good-bye, and they parted. + +It was in the early days of March that Merthyr, then among the +Republicans of Rome, heard from Laura Piaveni. Two letters reached him, +one telling of the attempted assassination, and a second explaining +circumstances connected with it. The first summoned him to Milan; the +other left it to his option to make the journey. He started, carrying +kind messages from the Chief to Vittoria, and from Luciano Ramara the +offer of a renewal of old friendship to Count Ammiani. His political +object was to persuade the Lombard youth to turn their whole strength +upon Rome. The desire of his heart was again to see her, who had been so +nearly lost to all eyes for ever. + +Laura's first letter stated brief facts. “She was stabbed this +afternoon, at half-past two, on the steps of her house, by a woman +called the wife of Barto Rizzo. She caught her hands up under her throat +when she saw the dagger. Her right arm was penetrated just above the +wrist, and half-an-inch in the left breast, close to the centre bone. +She behaved firmly. The assassin only struck once. No visible danger; +but you should come, if you have no serious work.” + +“Happily,” ran the subsequent letter, of two days' later date, “the +assassin was a woman, and one effort exhausts a woman; she struck +only once, and became idiotic. Sandra has no fever. She had her wits +ready--where were mine?--when she received the wound. While I had her in +my arms, she gave orders that the woman should be driven out of the city +in her carriage. The Greek, her mad musical adorer, accuses Countess +d'Isorella. Carlo has seen this person--returns convinced of her +innocence. That is not an accepted proof; but we have one. It seems that +Rizzo (Sandra was secret about it and about one or two other things) +sent to her commanding her to appoint an hour detestable style! I can +see it now; I fear these conspiracies no longer:--she did appoint an +hour; and was awaiting him when the gendarmes sprang on the man at her +door. + +“He had evaded them several weeks, so we are to fancy that his wife +charged Countess Alessandra with the betrayal. This appears a reasonable +and simple way of accounting for the deed. So I only partly give credit +to it. But it may be true. + +“The wound has not produced a shock to her system--very, very +fortunately. On the whole, a better thing could not have happened. +Should I be more explicit? Yes, to you; for you are not of those who see +too much in what is barely said. The wound, then, my dear good friend, +has healed another wound, of which I knew nothing. Bergamasc and +Brescian friends of her husband's, have imagined that she interrupted or +diverted his studies. He also discovered that she had an opinion of her +own, and sometimes he consulted it; but alas! they are lovers, and he +knew not when love listened, or she when love spoke; and there was grave +business to be done meanwhile. Can you kindly allow that the case was +open to a little confusion? I know that you will. He had to hear many +violent reproaches from his fellow-students. These have ceased. I send +this letter on the chance of the first being lost on the road; and it +will supplement the first pleasantly to you in any event. She lies here +in the room where I write, propped on high pillows, the right arm bound +up, and says: 'Tell Merthyr I prayed to be in Rome with my husband, +and him, and the Chief. Tell him I love my friend. Tell him I think he +deserves to be in Rome. Tell him--' Enter Countess Ammiani to reprove +her for endangering the hopes of the house by fatiguing herself. Sandra +sends a blush at me, and I smile, and the countess kisses her. I send +you a literal transcript of one short scene, so that you may feel at +home with us. + +“There is a place called Venice, and there is a place called Rome, and +both places are pretty places and famous places; and there is a thing +called the fashion; and these pretty places and famous places set the +fashion: and there is a place called Milan, and a place called Bergamo, +and a place called Brescia, and they all want to follow the fashion, for +they are giddy-pated baggages. What is the fashion, mama? The fashion, +my dear, is &c. &c. &c.:--Extract of lecture to my little daughter, +Amalia, who says she forgets you; but Giacomo sends his manly love. Oh, +good God! should I have blood in my lips when I kissed him, if I knew +that he was old enough to go out with a sword in his hand a week hence? +I seem every day to be growing more and more all mother. This month in +front of us is full of thunder. Addio!” + +When Merthyr stood in sight of Milan an army was issuing from the gates. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE INTERVIEW + +Merthyr saw Laura first. He thought that Vittoria must be lying on her +couch: but Laura simply figured her arm in a sling, and signified, more +than said, that Vittoria was well and taking the air. She then begged +hungrily for news of Rome, and again of Rome, and sat with her hands +clasped in her lap to listen. She mentioned Venice in a short breath of +praise, as if her spirit could not repose there. Rome, its hospitals, +its municipal arrangements, the names of the triumvirs, the prospects of +the city, the edicts, the aspects of the streets, the popularity of +the Government, the number of volunteers ranked under the magical +Republic--of these things Merthyr talked, at her continual instigation, +till, stopping abruptly, he asked her if she wished to divert him from +any painful subject. “No, no!” she cried, “it's only that I want to feel +an anchor. We are all adrift. Sandra is in perfect health. Our bodies, +dear Merthyr, are enjoying the perfection of comfort. Nothing is done +here except to keep us from boiling over.” + +“Why does not Count Ammiani come to Rome?” said Merthyr. + +“Why are we not all in Rome? Yes, why! why! We should make a carnival of +our own if we were.” + +“She would have escaped that horrible knife,” Merthyr sighed. + +“Yes, she would have escaped that horrible knife. But see the difference +between Milan and Rome, my friend! It was a blessed knife here. It has +given her husband back to her; it has destroyed the intrigues against +her. It seems to have been sent--I was kneeling in the cathedral this +morning, and had the very image crossing my eyes--from the saints of +heaven to cut the black knot. Perhaps it may be the means of sending us +to Rome.” + +Laura paused, and, looking at him, said, “It is so utterly impossible +for us women to comprehend love without folly in a man; the trait by +which we recognize it! Merthyr, you dear Englishman, you shall know +everything. Do we not think a tisane a weak washy drink, when we are +strong? But we learn, when we lie with our chins up, and our ten toes +like stopped organ-pipes--as Sandra says--we learn then that it means +fresh health and activity, and is better than rivers of your fiery +wines. You love her, do you not?” + +The question came with great simplicity. + +“If I can give a proof of it, I am ready to answer,” said Merthyr, in +some surprise. + +“Your whole life is the proof of it. The women of your country are +intolerable to me, Merthyr: but I do see the worth of the men. Sandra +has taught me. She can think of you, talk of you, kiss the vision of +you, and still be a faithful woman in our bondage of flesh; and to us +you know what a bondage it is: How can that be? I should have asked, if +I had not seen it. Dearest, she loves her husband, and she loves you. +She has two husbands, and she turns to the husband of her spirit when +that, or any, dagger strikes her bosom. Carlo has an unripe mind. They +have been married but a little more than four months; and he reveres +her and loves her.”.... Laura's voice dragged. “Multiply the months by +thousands, we shall not make those two lives one. It is the curse of +man's education in Italy? He can see that she has wits and courage. He +will not consent to make use of them. You know her: she is not one to +talk of these things. She, who has both heart and judgement--she is +merely a little boat tied to a big ship. Such is their marriage. She +cannot influence him. She is not allowed to advise him. And she is the +one who should lead the way. And--if she did, we should now be within +sight of the City.” + +Laura took his hand. She found it moist, though his face was calm and +his chest heaved regularly. An impish form of the pity women feel for us +at times moved her to say, “Your skin is as bronzed as it was last +year. Sandra spoke of it. She compared it to a young vine-leaf. I wonder +whether girls have really an admonition of what is good for them while +they are going their ways like destined machines?” + +“Almost all men are of flesh and blood,” said Merthyr softly. + +“I spoke of girls.” + +“I speak of men.” + +“Blunt--witted that I am! Of course you did. But do not imagine that she +is not happy with her husband. They are united firmly.” + +“The better for her, and him, and me,” said Merthyr. + +Laura twisted an end of her scarf with fretful fingers. “Carlo Albert +has crossed the Ticino?” + +“Is about to do so,” Merthyr rejoined. + +“Will Rome hold on if he is defeated?” + +“Rome has nothing to fear on that side.” + +“But you do not speak hopefully of Rome.” + +“I suppose I am thinking of other matters.” + +“You confess it!” + +The random conversation wearied him. His foot tapped the floor. + +“Why do you say that?” he asked. + +“Verily, for no other reason than that I have a wicked curiosity, and +that you come from Rome,” said Laura, now perfectly frank, and believing +that she had explained her enigmatical talk, if she had not furnished an +excuse for it. Merthyr came from the City which was now encircled by +an irradiating halo in her imagination, and a fit of spontaneous +inexplicable feminine tenderness being upon her at the moment of their +meeting, she found herself on a sudden prompted to touch and probe and +brood voluptuously over an unfortunate lover's feelings, supposing that +they existed. For the glory of Rome was on him, and she was at the same +time angry with Carlo Ammiani. It was the form of passion her dedicated +widowhood could still be subject to in its youth; the sole one. By this +chance Merthyr learnt what nothing else would have told him. + +Her tale of the attempted assassination was related with palpable +indifference. She stated the facts. “The woman seemed to gasp while +she had her hand up; she struck with no force; and she has since been +inanimate, I hear. The doctor says that a spasm of the heart seized her +when she was about to strike. It has been shaken--I am not sure that he +does not say displaced, or unseated--by some one of her black tempers. +She shot Rinaldo Guidascarpi dead. Perhaps it was that. I am informed +that she worshipped the poor boy, and has been like a trapped she-wolf +since she did it. In some way she associated our darling with Rinaldo's +death, like the brute she is. The ostensible ground for her futile +bit of devilishness was that she fancied Sandra to have betrayed Barto +Rizzo, her husband, into the hands of the polizia. He wrote to the +Countess Alessandra--such a letter!--a curiosity!--he must see her and +cross-examine her to satisfy himself that she was a true patriot, &c. +You know the style: we neither of us like it. Sandra was waiting to +receive him when they pounced on him by the door. Next day the woman +struck at her. Decidedly a handsome woman. She is the exact contrast +to the Countess Violetta in face, in everything. Heart-disease will +certainly never affect that pretty spy! But, mark,” pursued +Laura, warming, “when Carlo arrived, tears, penitence, heaps of +self-accusations: he had been unkind to her even on Lake Orta, where +they passed their golden month; he had neglected her at Turin; he had +spoken angry words in Milan; in fact, he had misused his treasure, and +begged pardon;--'If you please, my poor bleeding angel, I am sorry. But +do not, I entreat, distract me with petitions of any sort, though I will +perform anything earthly to satisfy you. Be a good little boat in the +wake of the big ship. I will look over at you, and chirrup now and +then to you, my dearest, when I am not engaged in piloting +extraordinary.'--Very well; I do not mean to sneer at the unhappy boy, +Merthyr; I love him; he was my husband's brother in arms; the sweetest +lad ever seen. He is in the season of faults. He must command; he must +be a chief; he fancies he can intrigue poor thing! It will pass. And so +will the hour to be forward to Rome. But I call your attention to this: +when he heard of the dagger--I have it from Colonel Corte, who was with +him at the time in Turin--he cried out Violetta d'Isorella's name. +Why? After he had buried his head an hour on Sandra's pillow, he went +straight to Countess d'Isorella, and was absent till night. The woman is +hideous to me. No; don't conceive that I think her Sandra's rival. She +is too jealous. She has him in some web. If she has not ruined him, she +will. She was under my eyes the night she heard of his marriage: I saw +how she will look at seventy! Here is Carlo at the head of a plot she +has prepared for him; and he has Angelo Guidascarpi, and Ugo Corte, +Marco Sana, Giulio Bandinelli, and about fifty others. They have all +been kept away from Rome by that detestable -----, you object to hear +bad names cast on women, Merthyr. Hear Agostino! The poor old man comes +daily to this house to persuade Carlo to lead his band to Rome. It is +so clearly Rome--Rome, where all his comrades are; where the chief stand +must be made by the side of Italy's Chief. Worst sign of all, it has +been hinted semi-officially to Carlo that he may upon application +be permitted to re-issue his journal. Does not that show that the +Government wishes to blindfold him, and keep him here, and knows his +plans?” + +Laura started up as the door opened, and Vittoria appeared leaning upon +Carlo's arm. Countess Ammiani, Countess d'Isorella, and Pericles were +behind them. Laura's children followed. + +When Merthyr rose, Vittoria was smiling in Carlo's face at something +that had been spoken. She was pale, and her arm was in a sling, but +there was no appearance of her being unnerved. Merthyr waited for her +recognition of him. She turned her eyes from Carlo slowly. The soft +dull smile in them died out as it were with a throb, and then her head +drooped on one shoulder, and she sank to the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +THE SHADOW ON CONSPIRACY + +Merthyr left the house at Laura's whispered suggestion. He was agitated +beyond control, for Vittoria had fallen with her eyes fixed on him; and +at times the picture of his beloved, her husband, and Countess Ammiani, +and the children bending over her still body, swam before him like a +dark altar-piece floating in incense, so lost was he to the reality of +that scene. He did not hear Beppo, his old servant, at his heels. After +a while he walked calmly, and Beppo came up beside him. Merthyr shook +his hand. + +“Ah, signor Mertyrio! ah, padrone!” said Beppo. + +Merthyr directed his observation to a regiment of Austrians marching +down the Corso Venezia to the Ticinese gate. + +“Yes, they are ready enough for us,” Beppo remarked. “Perhaps Carlo +Alberto will beat them this time. If he does, viva to him! If they beat +him, down goes another Venetian pyramid. The Countess Alessandra--” + Beppo's speech failed. + +“What of your mistress?” said Merthyr. + +“When she dies, my dear master, there's no one for me but the Madonna to +serve.” + +“Why should she die, silly fellow?” + +“Because she never cries.” + +Merthyr was on the point of saying, “Why should she cry?” His heart was +too full, and he shrank from inquisitive shadows of the thing known to +him. + +“Sit down at this caffe with me,” he said. “It's fine weather for March. +The troops will camp comfortably. Those Hungarians never require tents. +Did you see much sacking of villages last year?” + +“Padrone, the Imperial command is always to spare the villages.” + +“That's humane.” + +“Padrone, yes; if policy is humanity.” + +“It's humanity not carried quite as far as we should wish it.” + +Beppo shrugged and said: “It won't leave much upon the conscience if we +kill them.” + +“Do you expect a rising?” said Merthyr. + +“If the Ticino overflows, it will flood Milan,” was the answer. + +“And your occupation now is to watch the height of the water?” + +“My occupation, padrone? I am not on the watch-tower.” Beppo winked, +adding: “I have my occupation.” He threw off the effort or pretence to +be discreet. “Master of my soul! this is my occupation. I drink coffee, +but I do not smoke, because I have to kiss a pretty girl, who means to +object to the smell of the smoke. Via! I know her! At five she draws me +into the house.” + +“Are you relating your amours to me, rascal?” Merthyr interposed. + +“Padrone, at five precisely she draws me into the house. She is a German +girl. Pardon me if I make no war on women. Her name is Aennchen, which +one is able to say if one grimaces;--why not? It makes her laugh; and +German girls are amiable when one can make them laugh. 'Tis so that they +begin to melt. Behold the difference of races! I must kiss her to melt +her, and then have a quarrel. I could have it after the first, or the +fiftieth with an Italian girl; but my task will be excessively difficult +with a German girl, if I am compelled to allow myself to favour her with +one happy solicitation for a kiss, to commence with. We shall see. It +is, as my abstention from tobacco declares, an anticipated catastrophe.” + +“Long-worded, long-winded, obscure, affirmatizing by negatives, +confessing by implication!--where's the beginning and end of you, and +what's your meaning?” said Merthyr, who talked to him as one may talk to +an Italian servant. + +“The contessa, my mistress, has enemies. Padrone, I devote myself to her +service.” + +“By making love to a lady's maid?” + +“Padrone, a rat is not born to find his way up the grand staircase. She +has enemies. One of them was the sublime Barto Rizzo--admirable--though +I must hate him. He said to his wife: 'If a thing happens to me, stab to +the heart the Countess Alessandra Ammiani.'” + +“Inform me how you know that?” said Merthyr. + +Beppo pointed to his head, and Merthyr smiled. To imagine, invent, and +believe, were spontaneous with Beppo when has practical sagacity was not +on the stretch. He glanced at the caffe clock. + +“Padrone, at eleven to-night shall I see you here? At eleven I shall +come like a charged cannon. I have business. I have seen my mistress's +blood! I will tell you: this German girl lets me know that some one +detests my mistress. Who? I am off to discover. But who is the damned +creature? I must coo and kiss, while my toes are dancing on hot plates, +to find her out. Who is she? If she were half Milan...” + +His hands waved in outline the remainder of the speech, and he rose, but +sat again. He had caught sight of the spy, Luigi Saracco, addressing the +signor Antonio-Pericles in his carriage. Pericles drove on. The horses +presently turned, and he saluted Merthyr. + +“She has but one friend in Milan: it is myself,” was his introductory +remark. “My poor child! my dear Powys, she is the best--'I cannot sing +to you to-day, dear Pericles'--she said that after she had opened her +eyes; after the first mist, you know. She is the best child upon earth. +I could wish she were a devil, my Powys. Such a voice should be in an +iron body. But she has immense health. The doctor, who is also mine, +feels her pulse. He assures me it goes as Time himself, and Time, my +friend, you know, has the intention of going a great way. She is good: +she is too good. She makes a baby of Pericles, to whom what is woman? +Have I not the sex in my pocket? Her husband, he is a fool, ser.” + Pericles broke thundering into a sentence of English, fell in love with +it, and resumed in the same tongue: “I--it is I zat am her guard, her +safety. Her husband--oh! she must marry a young man, little donkey zat +she is! We accept it as a destiny, my Powys. And he plays false to her. +Good; I do not object. But, imagine in your own mind, my Powys--instead +of passion, of rage, of tempest, she is frozen wiz a repose. Do you, +hein? sink it will come out,”--Pericles eyed Merthyr with a subtle +smile askew,--“I have sot so;--it will come out when she is one day in +a terrible scene ... Mon Dieu! it was a terrible scene for me when I +looked on ze clout zat washed ze blood of ze terrible assassination. So +goes out a voice, possibly! Divine, you say? We are a machine. Now, +you behold, she has faints. It may happen at my concert where she sings +to-morrow night. You saw me in my carriage speaking to a man. He is my +spy--my dog wiz a nose. I have set him upon a woman. If zat woman has a +plot for to-morrow night to spoil my concert, she shall not know +where she shall wake to-morrow morning after. Ha! here is military +music--twenty sossand doors jam on horrid hinge; and right, left, +right, left, to it, confound! like dolls all wiz one face. Look at +your soldiers, Powys. Put zem on a stage, and you see all background +people--a bawling chorus. It shows to you how superior it is--a stage +to life! Hark to such music! I cannot stand it; I am driven away; I am +violent; I rage.” + +Pericles howled the name of his place of residence, with an offer of +lodgings in it, and was carried off writhing his body as he passed a +fine military marching band. + +The figure of old Agostino Balderini stood in front of Merthyr. +They exchanged greetings. At the mention of Rome, Agostino frowned +impatiently. He spoke of Vittoria in two or three short exclamations, +and was about to speak of Carlo, but checked his tongue. “Judge for +yourself. Come, and see, and approve, if you can. Will you come? There's +a meeting; there's to be a resolution. Question--Shall we second the +King of Sardinia, Piedmont, and Savoy? If so, let us set this pumpkin, +called Milan, on its legs. I shall be an attentive listener like you, my +friend. I speak no more.” + +Merthyr went with him to the house of a carpenter, where in one of the +uppermost chambers communicating with the roof, Ugo Corte, Marco Sana, +Giulio Bandinelli, and others, sat waiting for the arrival of Carlo +Ammiani; when he came Carlo had to bear with the looks of mastiffs for +being late. He shook Merthyr's hand hurriedly, and as soon as the door +was fastened, began to speak. His first sentence brought a grunt of +derision from Ugo Corte. It declared that there was no hope of a rising +in Milan. Carlo swung round upon the Bergamasc. “Observe our leader,” + Agostino whispered to Merthyr; “it would be kindness to give him a +duel.” More than one tumult of outcries had to be stilled before Merthyr +gathered any notion of the designs of the persons present. Bergamasc +sneered at Brescian, and both united in contempt of the Milanese, who, +having a burden on their minds, appealed at once to their individual +willingness to use the sword in vindication of Milan against its +traducers. By a great effort, Carlo got some self-mastery. He admitted, +colouring horribly, that Brescia and Bergamo were ready, and Milan was +not; therefore those noble cities (he read excerpts from letters showing +their readiness) were to take the lead, and thither on the morrow-night +he would go, let the tidings from the king's army be what they might. + +Merthyr quitted the place rather impressed by his eloquence, but +unfavourably by his feverish look. Countess d'Isorella had been referred +to as one who served the cause ably and faithfully. In alluding to +her, Carlo bit his lip; he did not proceed until surrounding murmurs of +satisfaction encouraged him to continue a sort of formal eulogy of the +lady, which proved to be a defence against foregone charges, for Corte +retracted an accusation, and said that he had no fault to find with the +countess. A proposal to join the enterprise was put to Merthyr, but his +engagement with the Chief in Rome saved him from hearing much of the +marvellous facilities of the plot. “I should have wished to see you +to-night,” Carlo said as they were parting. Merthyr named his hotel. +Carlo nodded. “My wife is still slightly feeble,” he said. + +“I regret it,” Merthyr rejoined. + +“She is not ill.” + +“No, it cannot be want of courage,” Merthyr spoke at random. + +“Yes, that's true,” said Carlo, as vacantly. “You will see her while I +am travelling.” + +“I hope to find the Countess Alessandra well enough to receive me.” + +“Always; always,” said Carlo, wishing apparently to say more. Merthyr +waited an instant, but Carlo broke into a conventional smile of adieu. + +“While he is travelling,” Merthyr repeated to Agostino, who had stood by +during the brief dialogue, and led the way to the Corso. + +“He did not say how far!” was the old man's ejaculation. + +“But, good heaven! if you think he's on an unfortunate errand, why don't +you stop him, advise him?” Merthyr broke out. + +“Advise him! stop him! my friend. I would advise him, if I had the +patience of angels; stop him, if I had the power of Lucifer. Did you not +see that he shunned speaking to me? I have been such a perpetual dish of +vinegar under his nose for the last month, that the poor fellow sniffs +when I draw near. He must go his way. He leads a torrent that must sweep +him on. Corte, Sana, and the rest would be in Rome now, but for him. So +should I. Your Agostino, however, is not of Bergamo, or of Brescia; he +is not a madman; simply a poor rheumatic Piedmontese, who discerns the +point where a united Italy may fix its standard. I would start for Rome +to-morrow, if I could leave her--my soul's child!” Agostino raised his +hand: “I do love the woman, Countess Alessandra Ammiani. I say, she is a +peerless woman. Is she not?” + +“There is none like her,” said Merthyr. + +“A peerless woman, recognized and sacrificed! I cannot leave her. If the +Government here would lay hands on Carlo and do their worst at once, I +would be off. They are too wary. I believe that they are luring him to +his ruin. I can give no proofs, but I judge by the best evidence. What +avails my telling him? I lose my temper the moment I begin to speak. A +curst witch beguiles the handsome idiot--poor darling lad that he is! +She has him--can I tell you how? She has got him--got him fast!--The +nature of the chains are doubtless innocent, if those which a woman +throws round us be ever distinguishable. He loves his wife--he is not a +monster.” + +“He appears desperately feverish,” said Merthyr. + +“Did you not notice it? Yes, like a man pushed by his destiny out of the +path. He is ashamed to hesitate; he cannot turn back. Ahead of him he +sees a gulf. That army of Carlo Alberto may do something under its Pole. +Prophecy is too easy. I say no more. We may have Lombardy open; and if +so, my poor boy's vanity will be crowned: he will only have the king and +his army against him then.” + +Discoursing in this wise, they reached the caffe where Beppo had +appointed to meet his old master, and sat amid here and there a +whitecoat, and many nods and whispers over such news as the privileged +journals and the official gazette afforded. + +Beppo's destination was to the Duchess of Graatli's palace. Nearing it, +he perceived Luigi endeavouring to gain a passage beside the burly form +of Jacob Baumwalder Feckelwitz, who presently seized him and hurled him +into the road. As Beppo was sidling up the courtway, Jacob sprang back; +Luigi made a rush; Jacob caught them both, but they wriggled out of his +clutch, and Luigi, being the fearfuller, ran the farthest. While he was +out of hearing, Beppo told Jacob to keep watch upon Luigi, as the bearer +of an amorous letter from a signor of quality to Aennchen, the which he +himself desired to obtain sight of; “for the wench has caused me +three sleepless nights,” he confessed frankly. Jacob affected not to +understand. Luigi and Beppo now leaned against the wall on either side +of him and baited him till he shook with rage. + +“He is the lord of the duchess, his mistress--what a lucky fellow!” + said Luigi. “When he's dog at the gates no one can approach her. When he +isn't, you can fancy what!”--“He's only a mechanical contrivance; he's +not a man,” said Beppo. “He's the principal flea-catcher of the palace,” + said Luigi--“here he is all day, and at night the devil knows where he +hunts.”--Luigi hopped in a half-circle round the exacerbated Jacob, and +finally provoked an assault that gave an opening to Beppo. They all +ran in, Luigi last. Jacob chased Beppo up the stairs, lost him, and +remembered what he had said of the letter borne by Luigi, for whom +he determined to lie in waiting. “Better two in there than one,” he +thought. The two courted his Aennchen openly; but Luigi, as the bearer +of an amorous letter from the signor of quality, who could be no other +than signor Antonio-Pericles, was the one to be intercepted. Like other +jealous lovers, Jacob wanted to read Aennchen's answer, to be cured of +his fatal passion for the maiden, and on this he set the entire force of +his mind. + +Running up by different staircases, Beppo and Luigi came upon Aennchen +nearly at the same time. She turned a cold face on Beppo, and requested +Luigi to follow her. Astonished to see him in such favour, Beppo was +ready to provoke the quarrel before the kiss when she returned; but +she said that she had obeyed her mistress's orders, and was obeying the +duchess in refusing to speak of them, or of anything relating to them. +She had promised him an interview in that little room leading into the +duchess's boudoir. He pressed her to conduct him. “Ah; then it's not for +me you come,” she said. Beppo had calculated that the kiss would open +his way to the room, and the quarrel disembarrass him of his pretty +companion when there. “You have come to listen to conversation again,” + said Aennchen. “Ach! the fool a woman is to think that you Italians have +any idea except self-interest when you, when you... talk nonsense to +us. Go away, if you please. Good-evening.” She dropped a curtsey with a +surly coquetry, charming of its kind. Beppo protested that the room +was dear to him because there first he had known for one blissful +half-second the sweetness of her mouth. + +“Who told you that persons who don't like your mistress are going to +talk in there?” said Aennchen. + +“You,” said Beppo. + +Aennchen drew up in triumph: “And now will you pretend that you didn't +come up here to go in there to listen to what they say?” + +Beppo clapped hands at her cleverness in trapping him. “Hush,” said all +her limbs and features, belying the previous formal “good-evening.” + He refused to be silent, thinking it a way of getting to the little +antechamber. “Then, I tell you, downstairs you go,” said Aennchen +stiffly. + +“Is it decided?” Beppo asked. “Then, good-evening. You detestable +German girls can't love. One step--a smile: another step--a kiss. You +tit-for-tat minx! Have you no notion of the sacredness of the sentiments +which inspires me to petition that the place for our interview should be +there where I tasted ecstatic joy for the space of a flash of lightning? +I will go; but it is there that I will go, and I will await you there, +signorina Aennchen. Yes, laugh at me! laugh at me!” + +“No; really, I don't laugh at you, signor Beppo,” said Aennchen, +protesting in denial of what she was doing. “This way.” + +“No, it's that way,” said Beppo. + +“It's through here.” She opened a door. “The duchess has a reception +to-night, and you can't go round. Ach! you would not betray me?” + +“Not if it were the duchess herself,” said Beppo; “he would refuse to +satisfy man's natural vanity, in such a case.” + +Eager to advance to the little antechamber, he allowed Aennchen to wait +behind him. He heard the door shut and a lock turn, and he was in the +dark, and alone, left to take counsel of his fingers' ends. + +“She was born to it,” Beppo remarked, to extenuate his outwitted +cunning, when he found each door of the room fast against him. + +On the following night Vittoria was to sing at a concert in the Duchess +of Graatli's great saloon, and the duchess had humoured Pericles by +consenting to his preposterous request that his spy should have an +opportunity of hearing Countess d'Isorella and Irma di Karski in private +conversation together, to discover whether there was any plot of any +sort to vex the evening's entertainment; as the jealous spite of those +two women, Pericles said, was equal to any devilry on earth. It happened +that Countess d'Isorella did not come. Luigi, in despair,--was the +hearer of a quick question and answer dialogue, in the obscure German +tongue, between Anna von Lenkenstein and Irma di Karski; but a happy +peep between the hanging curtains gave him sight of a letter passing +from Anna's hands to Irma's. Anna quitted her. Irma, was looking at the +superscription of the letter, an the act of passing in her steps, when +Luigi tore the curtains apart, and sprang on her arm like a cat. Before +her shrieks could bring succour, Luigi was bounding across the court +with the letter in his possession. A dreadful hug awaited him; his +pockets were ransacked, and he was pitched aching into the street. Jacob +Baumwalder Feckelwitz went straightway under a gas-lamp, where he read +the address of the letter to Countess d'Isorella. He doubted; he had +a half-desire to tear the letter open. But a rumour of the attack upon +Irma had spread among the domestics and Jacob prudently went up to his +mistress. The duchess was sitting with Laura. She received the letter, +eyed: it all over, and held it to a candle. + +Laura's head was bent in dark meditation. The sudden increase of light +aroused her, and she asked, “What is that?” + +“A letter from Countess Anna to Countess d'Isorella,” said the duchess. + +“Burnt!” Laura screamed. + +“It's only fair,” the duchess remarked. + +“From her to that woman! It may be priceless. Stop! Let me see what +remains. Amalia! are you mad? Oh! you false friend. I would have +sacrificed my right hand to see it.” + +“Try and love me still,” said the duchess, letting her take one unburnt +corner, and crumble the black tissuey fragments to smut in her hands. + +There was no writing; the unburnt corner of the letter was a blank. + +Laura fooled the wretched ashes between her palms. “Good-night,” she +said. “Your face will be of this colour to me, my dear, for long.” + +“I cannot behave disgracefully, even to keep your love, my beloved,” + said the duchess. + +“You cannot betray a German, you mean,” Laura retorted. “You could let a +spy into the house.” + +“That was a childish matter--merely to satisfy a whim.” + +“I say you could let a spy into the house. Who is to know where the +scruples of you women begin? I would have given my jewels, my head, my +husband's sword, for a sight of that letter. I swear that it concerns +us. Yes, us. You are a false friend. Fish-blooded creature! may it be a +year before I look on you again. Hide among your miserable set!” + +“Judge me when you are cooler, dearest,” said the duchess, seeking to +detain the impetuous sister of her affection by the sweeping skirts; but +Laura spurned her touch, and went from her. + +Irma drove to Countess d'Isorella's. Violetta was abed, and lay fair +and placid as a Titian Venus, while Irma sputtered out her tale, with +intermittent sobs. She rose upon her elbow, and planting it in her +pillow, took half-a-dozen puffs of a cigarette, and then requested Irma +to ring for her maid. “Do nothing till you see me again,” she said; +“and take my advice: always get to bed before midnight, or you'll have +unmanageable wrinkles in a couple of years. If you had been in bed at a +prudent hour to-night, this scandal would not have occurred.” + +“How can I be in bed? How could I help it?” moaned Irma, replying to the +abstract rule, and the perplexing illustration of its force. + +Violetta dismissed her. “After all, my wish is to save my poor +Amaranto,” she mused. “I am only doing now what I should have been doing +in the daylight; and if I can't stop him, the Government must; and they +will. Whatever the letter contained, I can anticipate it. He knows my +profession and my necessities. I must have money. Why not from the rich +German woman whom he jilted?” + +She attributed Anna's apparent passion of revenge to a secret passion of +unrequited love. What else was implied by her willingness to part with +land and money for the key to his machinations? + +Violetta would have understood a revenge directed against Angelo +Guidascarpi, as the slayer of Anna's brother. But of him Anna had only +inquired once, and carelessly, whether he was in Milan. Anna's mystical +semi-patriotism--prompted by her hatred of Vittoria, hatred of Carlo as +Angelo's cousin and protector, hatred of the Italy which held the three, +who never took the name Tedesco on their tongues without loathing--was +perfectly hidden from this shrewd head. + +Some extra patrols were in the streets. As she stepped into the +carriage, a man rushed up, speaking hoarsely and inarticulately, and +jumped in beside her. She had discerned Barto Rizzo in time to give +directions to her footman, before she was addressed by a body of +gendarmes in pursuit, whom she mystified by entreating them to enter +her house and search it through, if they supposed that any evil-doer +had taken advantage of the open door. They informed her that a man had +escaped from the civil prison. “Poor creature!” said the countess, with +womanly pity; “but you must see that he is not in my house. How could +three of you let one escape?” She drove off laughing at their vehement +assertion that he would not have escaped from them. Barto Rizzo made her +conduct him to Countess Ammiani's gates. + +Violetta was frightened by his eyes when she tried to persuade him in +her best coaxing manner to avoid Count Ammiani. In fact she apprehended +that he would be very much in her way. She had no time for chagrin at +her loss of power over him, though she was sensible of vexation. Barto +folded his arms and sat with his head in his chest, silent, till they +reached the' gates, when he said in French, “Madame, I am a nameless +person in your train. Gabble!” he added, when the countess advised him +not to enter; nor would he allow her to precede him by more than one +step. Violetta sent up her name. The man had shaken her nerves. “At +least, remember that your appearance should be decent,” she said, +catching sight of blood on his hands, and torn garments. “I expect, +madame,” he replied, “I shall not have time to wash before I am +laid out. My time is short. I want tobacco. The washing can be done +by-and-by, but not the smoking.” + +They were ushered up to the reception-room, where Countess Ammiani, +Vittoria, and Carlo sat, awaiting the visitor whose unexpected name, +cast in their midst at so troubled a season, had clothed her with some +of the midnight's terrors. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII + +THE LAST MEETING IN MILAN + +Barto Rizzo had silence about him without having to ask for it, when he +followed Violetta into Countess Ammiani's saloon of reception. Carlo was +leaning over his mother's chair, holding Vittoria's wrist across it, +and so enclosing her, while both young faces were raised to the bowed +forehead of the countess. They stood up. Violetta broke through the +formal superlatives of an Italian greeting. “Speak to me alone,” she +murmured for Carlo's ear and glancing at Barto: “Here is a madman; a +mild one, I trust.” She contrived to show that she was not responsible +for his intrusion. Countess Ammiani gathered Vittoria in her arms; Carlo +stepped a pace before them. Terror was on the venerable lady's face, +wrath on her son's. As he fronted Barto, he motioned a finger to the +curtain hangings, and Violetta, quick at reading signs, found his bare +sword there. “But you will not want it,” she remarked, handing the hilt +to him, and softly eyeing the impression of her warm touch on the steel +as it passed. + +“Carlo, thou son of Paolo! Countess Marcellina, wife of a true patriot! +stand aside, both of you. It is between the Countess Alessandra and +myself,” so the man commenced, with his usual pomp of interjection. +“Swords and big eyes,--are they things to stop me?” Barto laughed +scornfully. He had spoken in the full roll of his voice, and the sword +was hard back for the thrust. + +Vittoria disengaged herself from the countess. “Speak to me,” she said, +dismayed by the look of what seemed an exaltation of madness in Barto's +visage, but firm as far as the trembling of her limbs would let her be. + +He dropped to her feet and kissed them. + +“Emilia Alessandra Belloni! Vittoria! Countess Alessandra Ammiani! pity +me. Hear this:--I hated you as the devil is hated. Yesterday I woke +up in prison to hear that I must adore you. God of all the pits of +punishment! was there ever one like this? I had to change heads.” + +It was the language of a distorted mind, and lamentable to hear when a +sob shattered his voice. + +“Am I mad?” he asked piteously, clasping his temples. + +“You are as we are, if you weep,” said Vittoria, to sooth him. + +“Then I have been mad!” he cried, starting. “I knew you a wicked +virgin--signora contessa, confess to me, marriage has changed you. Has +it not changed you? In the name of the Father of the Saints, help me out +of it:--my brain reels backwards. You were false, but marriage--It acts +in this way with you women; yes, that we know--you were married, and you +said, 'Now let us be faithful.' Did you not say that? I am forgiving, +though none think it. You have only to confess. If you will not,--oh!” + He smote his face, groaning. + +Carlo spoke a stern word in an undertone; counselling him to be gone. + +“If you will not--what was she to do?” Barto cut the question to +interrogate his strayed wits. “Look at me, Countess Alessandra. I was in +the prison. I heard that my Rosellina had a tight heart. She cried +for her master, poor heathen, and I sprang out of the walls to her. +There--there--she lay like a breathing board; a woman with a body like a +coffin half alive; not an eye to show; nothing but a body and a whisper. +She perished righteously, for she disobeyed. She acted without my +orders: she dared to think! She will be damned, for she would have +vengeance before she went. She glorified you over me--over Barto Rizzo. +Oh! she shocked my soul. But she is dead, and I am her slave. Every word +was of you. Take another head, Barto Rizzo your old one was mad: she +said that to my soul. She died blessing you above me. I saw the last bit +of life go up from her mouth blessing you. It's heard by this time in +heaven, and it's written. Then I have had two years of madness. If she +is right, I was wrong; I was a devil of hell. I know there's an eye +given to dying creatures, and she looked with it, and she said, the soul +of Rinaldo Guidascarpi, her angel, was glorifying you; and she thanked +the sticking of her heart, when she tried to stab you, poor fool!” + +Carlo interrupted: “Now go; you have said enough.” + +“No, let him speak,” said Vittoria. She supposed that Barto was going to +say that he had not given the order for her assassination. “You do not +wish me dead, signore?” + +“Nothing that is not standing in my way, signora contessa,” said Barto; +and his features blazed with a smile of happy self-justification. “I +have killed a sentinel this night: Providence placed him there. I wish +for no death, but I punish, and--ah! the cursed sight of the woman who +calls me mad for two years. She thrusts a bar of iron in an engine at +work, and says, Work on! work on! Were you not a traitress? Countess +Alessandra, were you not once a traitress? Oh! confess it; save my head. +Reflect, dear lady! it's cruel to make a man of a saintly sincerity +look back--I count the months--seventeen months! to look back seventeen +months, and see that his tongue was a clapper,--his will, his eyes, +his ears, all about him, everything, stirred like a pot on the fire. I +traced you. I saw your treachery. I said--I, I am her Day of Judgement. +She shall look on me and perish, struck down by her own treachery. +Were my senses false to me? I had lived in virtuous fidelity to +my principles. None can accuse me. Why were my senses false, if my +principles were true? I said you were a traitress. I saw it from the +first. I had the divine contempt for women. My distrust of a woman was +the eye of this brain, and I said--Follow her, dog her, find her out! I +proved her false; but her devilish cunning deceived every other man +in the world. Oh! let me bellow, for it's me she proves the mass of +corruption! Tomorrow I die, and if I am mad now, what sort of a curse is +that? + +“Now to-morrow is an hour--a laugh! But if I've not been shot from a +true bow--if I've been a sham for two years--if my name, and nature, +bones, brains, were all false things hunting a shadow, Countess +Alessandra, see the misery of Barto Rizzo! Look at those two years, and +say that I had my head. Answer me, as you love your husband: are you +heart and soul with him in the fresh fight for Lombardy?” He said +this with a look penetrating and malignant, and then by a sudden flash +pitifully entreating. + +Carlo feared to provoke, revolted from the thought of slaying him. “Yes, +yes,” he interposed, “my wife is heart and soul in it. Go.” + +Barto looked from him to her with the eyes of a dog that awaits an +order. + +Victoria gathered her strength, and said: “I am not.” + +“It is her answer!” Barto roared, and from deep dejection his whole +countenance radiated. “She says it--she might give the lie to a saint! I +was never mad. I saw the spot, and put my finger on it, and not a madman +can do that. My two years are my own. Mad now, for, see! + +“I worship the creature. She is not heart and soul in it. She is not in +it at all. She is a little woman, a lovely thing, a toy, a cantatrice. +Joy to the big heart of Barto Rizzo! I am for Brescia!” + +He flung his arm like a banner, and ran out. + +Carlo laid his sword on a table. Vittoria's head was on his mother's +bosom. + +The hour was too full of imminent grief for either of the three to +regard this scene as other than a gross intrusion ended. + +“Why did you deny my words?” Carlo said coldly. + +“I could not lie to make him wretched,” she replied in a low murmur. + +“Do you know what that 'I am for Brescia' means? He goes to stir the +city before a soul is ready.” + +“I warned you that I should speak the truth of myself to-night, +dearest.” + +“You should discern between speaking truth to a madman, and to a man.” + +Vittoria did not lift her eyes, and Carlo beckoned to Violetta, with +whom he left the room. + +“He is angry,” Countess Ammiani murmured. “My child, you cannot +deal with men in a fever unless you learn to dissemble; and there is +exemption for doing it, both in plain sense, and in our religion. If I +could arrest him, I would speak boldly. It is, alas! vain to dream of +that; and it is therefore an unkindness to cause him irritation. +Carlo has given way to you by allowing you to be here when his friends +assemble. He knows your intention to speak. He has done more than would +have been permitted by my husband to me, though I too was well-beloved.” + +Vittoria continued silent that her head might be cherished where it lay. +She was roused from a stupor by hearing new voices. Laura's lips came +pressing to her cheek. Colonel Corte, Agostino, Marco Sana, and Angelo +Guidascarpi, saluted her. Angelo she kissed. + +“That lady should be abed and asleep,” Corte was heard to say. + +The remark passed without notice. Angelo talked apart with Vittoria. He +had seen the dying of the woman whose hand had been checked in the act +of striking by the very passion of animal hatred which raised it. He +spoke of her affectionately, attesting to the fact that Barto Rizzo had +not prompted her guilt. Vittoria moaned at a short outline that he gave +of the last minutes between those two, in which her name was dreadfully +and fatally, incomprehensibly prominent. + +All were waiting impatiently for Carlo's return. + +When he appeared he informed his mother that the Countess d'Isorella +would remain in the house that night, and his mother passed out to her +abhorred guest, who, for the time at least, could not be doing further +mischief. + +It was a meeting for the final disposition of things before the +outbreak. Carlo had begun to speak when Corte drew his attention to the +fact that ladies were present, at which Carlo put out his hand as if +introducing them, and went on speaking. + +“Your wife is here,” said Corte. + +“My wife and signora Piaveni,” Carlo rejoined. “I have consented to my +wife's particular wish to be present.” + +“The signora Piaveni's opinions are known: your wife's are not.” + +“Countess Alessandra shares mine,” said Laura, rather tremulously. + +Countess Ammiani at the same time returned and took Vittoria's hand and +pressed it with force. Carlo looked at them both. + +“I have to ask your excuses, gentlemen. My wife, my mother, and signora +Piaveni, have served the cause we worship sufficiently to claim a +right--I am sorry to use such phrases; you understand my meaning. Permit +them to remain. I have to tell you that Barto Rizzo has been here: he +has started for Brescia. I should have had to kill him to stop him--a +measure that I did not undertake.” + +“Being your duty!” remarked Corte. + +Agostino corrected him with a sarcasm. + +“I cannot allow the presence of ladies to exclude a comment on manifest +indifference,” said Corte. “Pass on to the details, if you have any.” + +“The details are these,” Carlo resumed, too proud to show a shade +of self-command; “my cousin Angelo leaves Milan before morning. You, +Colonel Corte, will be in Bergamo at noon to-morrow. Marco and Angelo +will await my coming in Brescia, where we shall find Giulio and the +rest. I join them at five on the following afternoon, and my arrival +signals the revolt. We have decided that the news from the king's army +is good.” + +A perceptible shudder in Vittoria's frame at this concluding sentence +caught Corte's eye. + +“Are you dissatisfied with that arrangement?” he addressed her boldly. + +“I am, Colonel Corte,” she replied. So simple was the answering tone of +her voice that Corte had not a word. + +“It is my husband who is going,” Vittoria spoke on steadily; “him I am +prepared to sacrifice, as I am myself. If he thinks it right to throw +himself into Brescia, nothing is left for me but to thank him for having +done me the honour to consult me. His will is firm. I trust to God +that he is wise. I look on him now as one of many brave men whose lives +belong to Italy, and if they all are misdirected and perish, we have no +more; we are lost. The king is on the Ticino; the Chief is in Rome. I +desire to entreat you to take counsel before you act in anticipation of +the king's fortune. I see that it is a crushed life in Lombardy. In Rome +there is one who can lead and govern. He has suffered and is calm. +He calls to you to strengthen his hands. My prayer to you is to take +counsel. I know the hour is late; but it is not too late for wisdom. +Forgive me if I am not speaking humbly. Brescia is but Brescia; Rome +is Italy. I have understood little of my country until these last days, +though I have both talked and sung of her glories. I know that a deep +duty binds you to Bergamo and to Brescia--poor Milan we must not think +of. You are not personally pledged to Rome: yet Rome may have the +greatest claims on you. The heart of our country is beginning to beat +there. Colonel Corte! signor Marco! my Agostino! my cousin Angelo! it is +not a woman asking for the safety of her husband, but one of the blood +of Italy who begs to offer you her voice, without seeking to disturb +your judgement.” + +She ceased. + +“Without seeking to disturb their judgement!” cried Laura. “Why not, +when the judgement is in error?” + +To Laura's fiery temperament Vittoria's speech had been feebleness. +She was insensible to that which the men felt conveyed to them by the +absence of emotion in the language of a woman so sorrowfully placed. +“Wait,” she said, “wait for the news from Carlo Alberto, if you +determine to play at swords and guns in narrow streets.” She spoke long +and vehemently, using irony, coarse and fine, with the eloquence which +was her gift. In conclusion she apostrophized Colonel Corte as one who +had loved him might have done. He was indeed that figure of indomitable +strength to which her spirit, exhausted by intensity of passion, clung +more than to any other on earth, though she did not love him, scarcely +liked him. + +Corte asked her curiously--for she had surprised and vexed his softer +side--why she distinguished him with such remarkable phrases only to +declare her contempt for him. + +“It's the flag whipping the flag-pole,” murmured Agostino; and he now +spoke briefly in support of the expedition to Rome; or at least in +favour of delay until the King of Sardinia had gained a battle. While he +was speaking, Merthyr entered the room, and behind him a messenger who +brought word that Bergamo had risen. + +The men drew hurriedly together, and Countess Ammiani, Vittoria and +Laura stood ready to leave them. + +“You will give me, five minutes?” Vittoria whispered to her husband, and +he nodded. + +“Merthyr,” she said, passing him, “can I have your word that you will +not go from me?” + +Merthyr gave her his word after he had looked on her face. + +“Send to me every two hours, that I may know you are near,” she added; +“do not fear waking me. Or, no, dear friend; why should I have any +concealment from you? Be not a moment absent, if you would not have me +fall to the ground a second time: follow me.” + +Even as he hesitated, for he had urgent stuff to communicate to Carlo, +he could see a dreadful whiteness rising on her face, darkening the +circles of her eyes. + +“It's life or death, my dearest, and I am bound to live,” she said. Her +voice sprang up from tears. + +Merthyr turned and tried in vain to get a hearing among the excited, +voluble men. They shook his hand, patted his shoulder, and counselled +him to leave them. He obtained Carlo's promise that he would not quit +the house without granting him an interview; after which he passed out +to Vittoria, where Countess Ammiani and Laura sat weeping by the door. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV + +THE WIFE AND THE HUSBAND + +When they were alone Merthyr said: “I cannot give many minutes, not much +time. I have to speak to your husband.” + +She answered: “Give me many minutes--much time. All other speaking is +vain here.” + +“It concerns his safety.” + +“It will not save him.” + +“But I have evidence that he is betrayed. His plans are known; a trap is +set for him. If he moves, he walks into a pit.” + +“You would talk reason, Merthyr,” Vittoria sighed. “Talk it to me. I can +listen; I thirst for it. I beat at the bars of a cage all day. When I +saw you this afternoon, I looked on another life. It was too sudden, +and I swooned. That was my only show of weakness. Since then you are the +only strength I feel.” + +“Have they all become Barto Rizzos?” Merthyr exclaimed. + +“Beloved, I will open my mind to you,” said Vittoria. “I am cowardly, +and I thought I had such courage! Tonight a poor mad creature has been +here, who has oppressed me, I cannot say how long, with real fear--that +I only understand now that I know the little ground I had for it. I am +even pleased that one like Barto Rizzo should see me in a better light. +I find the thought smiling in my heart when every other thing is utterly +dark there. You have heard that Carlo goes to Brescia. When I was +married, I lost sight of Italy, and everything but happiness. I suffer +as I deserve for it now. I could have turned my husband from this black +path; I preferred to dream and sing. I would not see--it was my pride +that would not let me see his error. My cowardice would not let me wound +him with a single suggestion. You say that he is betrayed. Then he is +betrayed by the woman who has never been unintelligible to me. We were +in Turin surrounded by intrigues, and there I thanked her so much for +leaving me the days with my husband by Lake Orta that I did not seek to +open his eyes to her. We came to Milan, and here I have been thanking +her for the happy days in Turin. Carlo is no longer to blame if he will +not listen to me. I have helped to teach him that I am no better than +any of these Italian women whom he despises. I spoke to him as his wife +should do, at last. He feigned to think me jealous, and I too remember +the words of the reproach, as if they had a meaning. Ah, my friend! +I would say of nothing that it is impossible, except this task of +recovering lost ground with one who is young. Experience of trouble has +made me older than he. When he accused me of jealousy, I could mention +Countess d'Isorella's name no more. I confess to that. Yet I knew my +husband feigned. I knew that he could not conceive the idea of jealousy +existing in me, as little as I could imagine unfaithfulness in him. But +my lips would not take her name! Wretched cowardice cannot go farther. +I spoke of Rome. As often as I spoke, that name was enough to shake +me off: he had but to utter it, and I became dumb. He did it to obtain +peace; for no other cause. So, by degrees, I have learnt the fatal +truth. He has trusted her, for she is very skilful; distrusting her, +for she is treacherous. He has, therefore, believed excessively in his +ability to make use of her, and to counteract her baseness. I saw his +error from the first; and I went on dreaming and singing; and now this +night has come!” + +Vittoria shadowed her eyes. + +“I will go to him at once,” said Merthyr. + +“Yes; I am relieved. Go, dear friend,” she sobbed; “you have given me +tears, as I hoped. You will not turn him; had it been possible, could I +have kept you from him so long? I know that you will not turn him from +his purpose, for I know what a weight it is that presses him forward in +that path. Do not imagine our love to be broken. He will convince you +that it is not. He has the nature of an angel. He permitted me to speak +before these men to-night--feeble thing that I am! It was a last effort. +I might as well have tried to push a rock.” + +She rose at a noise of voices in the hall below. + +“They are going, Merthyr. See him now. There may be help in heaven; if +one could think it! If help were given to this country--if help were +only visible! The want of it makes us all without faith.” + +“Hush! you may hear good news from Carlo Alberto in a few hours,” said +Merthyr. + +“Ask Laura; she has witnessed how he can be shattered,” Vittoria replied +bitterly. + +Merthyr pressed her fingers. He was met by Carlo on the stairs. + +“Quick!” Carlo said; “I have scarce a minute to spare. I have my adieux +to make, and the tears have set in already. First, a request: you +will promise to remain beside my wife; she will want more than her own +strength.” + +Such a request, coming from an Italian husband, was so great a proof of +the noble character of his love and his knowledge of the woman he loved, +that Merthyr took him in his arms and kissed him. + +“Get it over quickly, dear good fellow,” Carlo murmured; “you have +something to tell me. Whatever it is, it's air; but I'll listen.” + +They passed into a vacant room. “You know you are betrayed,” Merthyr +began. + +“Not exactly that,” said Carlo, humming carelessly. + +“Positively and absolutely. The Countess d'Isorella has sold your +secrets.” + +“I commend her to the profit she has made by it.” + +“Do you play with your life?” + +Carlo was about to answer in the tone he had assumed for the interview. +He checked the laugh on his lips. + +“She must have some regard for my life, such as it's worth, since, to +tell you the truth, she is in the house now, and came here to give me +fair warning.” + +“Then, you trust her.” + +“I? Not a single woman in the world!--that is, for a conspiracy.” + +It was an utterly fatuous piece of speech. Merthyr allowed it to slip, +and studied him to see where he was vulnerable. + +“She is in the house, you say. Will you cause her to come before me?” + +“Curiously,” said Carlo, “I kept her for some purpose of the sort. Will +I? and have a scandal now? Oh! no. Let her sleep.” + +Whether he spoke from noble-mindedness or indifference, Merthyr could +not guess. + +“I have a message from your friend Luciano. He sends you his love, in +case he should be shot the first, and says that when Lombardy is free he +hopes you will not forget old comrades who are in Rome.” + +“Forget him! I would to God I could sit and talk of him for hours. +Luciano! Luciano! He has no wife.” + +Carlo spoke on hoarsely. “Tell me what authority you have for charging +Countess d'Isorella with... with whatever it may be.” + +“A conversation between Countess Anna of Lenkenstein and a Major Nagen, +in the Duchess of Graatli's house, was overheard by our Beppo. +They spoke German. The rascal had a German sweetheart with him. She +imprisoned him for some trespass, and had come stealing in to rescue +him, when those two entered the room. Countess Anna detailed to Nagen +the course of your recent plotting. She named the hour this morning when +you are to start for Brescia. She stated what force you have, what arms +you expect; she named you all.” + +“Nagen--Nagen,” Carlo repeated; “the man's unknown to me.” + +“It's sufficient that he is an Austrian officer.” + +“Quite. She hates me, and she has reason, for she's aware that I mean to +fight her lover, and choose my time. The blood of my friends is on that +man's head.” + +“I will finish what I have to say,” pursued Merthyr. “When Beppo had +related as much as he could make out from his sweetheart's translation, +I went straight to the duchess. She is an Austrian, and a good and +reasonable woman. She informed me that a letter addressed by Countess +Anna to Countess d'Isorella fell into her hands this night. She burnt it +unopened. I leave it to you to consider whether you have been betrayed +and who has betrayed you. The secret was bought. Beppo himself caught +the words, 'from a mercenary Italian.' The duchess tells me that +Countess Anna is in the habit of alluding to Countess d'Isorella in +those terms.” + +Carlo stretched his arms like a man who cannot hide the yawning fit. + +“I promised my wife five minutes, though we have had the worst of the +parting over. Perhaps you will wait for me; I may have a word to say.” + +He was absent for little more than the space named. When he returned, he +was careful to hide his face. He locked the door, and leading Merthyr to +an inner room, laid his watch on the table, and said: “Now, friend, +you will see that I have nothing to shrink from, for I am going to do +execution upon myself, and before him whom I would, above all other +men, have think well of me. My wife supposes that I am pledged to this +Brescian business because I am insanely patriotic. If I might join +Luciano tomorrow I would shout like a boy. I would be content to serve +as the lowest in the ranks, if I might be with you all under the Chief. +Rome crowns him, and Brescia is my bloody ditch, and it is deserved! +When I was a little younger--I am a boy still, no doubt--I had the +honour to be distinguished by a handsome woman; and when I grew a little +older, I discovered by chance that she had wit. The lady is the Countess +Violetta d'Isorella. It is a grief to me to know that she is sordid: +it hurts my vanity the more. Perhaps: you begin to perceive that vanity +governs me. The signora Laura has not expressed her opinion on this +subject with any reserve, but to Violetta belongs the merit of having +seen it without waiting for the signs. First--it is a small matter, but +you are English--let me assure you that my wife has had no rival. I have +taunted her with jealousy when I knew that it was neither in her nature +to feel it, nor in mine to give reason for it. No man who has a spark of +his Maker in him could be unfaithful to such a woman. When Lombardy was +crushed, we were in the dust. I fancy we none of us knew how miserably +we had fallen--we, as men. The purest--I dare say, the bravest--marched +to Rome. God bless my Luciano there! But I, sir, I, my friend, I, +Merthyr, I said proudly that I would not abandon a beaten country: and I +was admired for my devotion. The dear old poet, Agostino, praised me. +It stopped his epigrams--during a certain time, at least. Colonel Corte +admired me. Marco Sana, Giulio Bandinelli admired me. Vast numbers +admired me. I need not add that I admired myself. I plunged into +intrigues with princes, and priests, and republicans. A clever woman was +at my elbow. In the midst of all this, my marriage: I had seven weeks of +peace; and then I saw what I was. You feel that you are tired, when you +want to go another way and you feel that you have been mad when you want +to undo your work. But I could not break the chains I had wrought, for +I was a chief of followers. The men had come from exile, or they +had refused to join the Roman enterprise:--they, in fact, had bound +themselves to me; and that means, I was irrevocably bound to them. I had +an insult to wipe out: I refrained from doing it, sincerely, I may tell +you, on the ground that this admired life of mine was precious. I will +heap no more clumsy irony on it: I can pity it. Do you see now how I +stand? I know that I cannot rely on the king's luck or on the skill of +his generals, or on the power of his army, or on the spirit in Lombardy: +neither on men nor on angels. But I cannot draw back. I have set going +a machine that's merciless. From the day it began working, every moment +has added to its force. Do not judge me by your English eyes: other +lands, other habits; other habits, other thoughts. And besides, if +honour said nothing, simple humanity would preserve me from leaving my +band to perish like a flock of sheep.” + +He uttered this with a profound conviction of his quality as leader, +that escaped the lurid play of self-inspection which characterized what +he had previously spoken, and served singularly in bearing witness to +the truth of his charge against himself. + +“Useless!” he said, waving his hand at anticipated remonstrances. +“Look with the eyes of my country; not with your own, my friend. I am +disgraced if I do not go out. My friends are disgraced if I do not head +them in. Brescia--sacrificed!--murdered!--how can I say what? Can I live +under disgrace or remorse? The king stakes on his army; I on the king. +Whether he fights and wins, or fights and loses, I go out. I have +promised my men--promised them success, I believe!--God forgive me! Did +you ever see a fated man before? None had plotted against me. I have +woven my own web, and that's the fatal thing. I have a wife, the +sweetest woman of her time. Goodnight to her! our parting is over.” + +He glanced at his watch. “Perhaps she will be at the door below. Her +heart beats like mine just now. You wish to say that you think me +betrayed, and therefore I may draw back? Did you not hear that Bergamo +has risen? The Brescians are up too by this time. Gallant Brescians! +they never belie the proverb in their honour; and to die among them +would be sweet if I had all my manhood about me. You would have me +making a scene with Violetta.” + +“Set the woman face to face with me!” cried Merthyr, sighting a gleam of +hope. + +Carlo smiled. “Can she bear my burden though she be ten times guilty? +Let her sleep. I have her here harmless for the night. The Brescians are +up:--that's an hour that has struck, and there's no calling it to move +a step in the rear. Brescia under the big Eastern hill which throws +a cloak on it at sunrise! Brescia is always the eagle that looks over +Lombardy! And Bergamo! you know the terraces of Bergamo. Aren't they +like a morning sky? Dying there is not death; it's flying into the dawn. +You Romans envy us. Come, confess it; you envy us. You have no Alps, +no crimson hills, nothing but old walls to look on while you fight. +Farewell, Merthyr Powys. I hear my servant's foot outside. My horse is +awaiting me saddled, a mile from the city. Perhaps I shall see my wife +again at the door below, or in heaven. Addio! Kiss Luciano for me. Tell +him that I knew myself as well as he did, before the end came. Enrico, +Emilio, and the others--tell them I love them. I doubt if there will +ever be but a ghost of me to fight beside them in Rome. And there's no +honour, Merthyr, in a ghost's fighting, because he's shotproof; so I +won't say what the valiant disembodied 'I' may do by-and-by.” + +He held his hands out, with the light soft smile of one who asks +forgiveness for flippant speech, and concluded firmly: “I have talked +enough, and you are the man of sense I thought you; for to give me +advice is childish when no power on earth could make me follow it. +Addio! Kiss me.” + +They embraced. Merthyr said no more than that he would place messengers +on the road to Brescia to carry news of the king's army. His voice was +thick, and when Carlo laughed at him, his sensations strangely reversed +their situations. + +There were two cloaked figures at different points in the descent of +the stairs. These rose severally at Carlo's approach, took him to their +bosoms, and kissed him in silence. They were his mother and Laura. A +third crouched by the door of the courtyard, which was his wife. + +Merthyr kept aloof until the heavy door rolled a long dull sound. +Vittoria's head was shawled over. She stood where her husband had left +her, groping for him with one hand, that closed tremblingly hard on +Merthyr when he touched it. Not a word was uttered in the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV + +SHOWS MANY PATHS CONVERGING TO THE END + +Until daylight Merthyr sat by himself, trying to realize the progressive +steps of the destiny which seemed like a visible hand upon Count +Ammiani, that he might know it to be nothing else than Carlo's work. He +sat in darkness in the room where Carlo had spoken, thinking of him +as living and dead. The brilliant life in Carlo protested against a +possible fatal tendency in his acts so irrevocable as to plunge him to +destruction when his head was clear, his blood cool, and a choice lay +open to him. That brilliant young life, that fine face, the tones of +Carlo's voice, swept about Merthyr, accusing him of stupid fatalism. +Grief stopped his answer to the charge; but in his wise mind he knew +Carlo to have surveyed things justly; and that the Fates are within +us. Those which are the forces of the outer world are as shadows to +the power we have created within us. He felt this because it was his +gathered wisdom. Human compassion, and love for the unhappy youth, +crushed it in his heart, and he marvelled how he could have been +paralyzed when he had a chance of interceding. Can a man stay a torrent? +But a noble and fair young life in peril will not allow our philosophy +to liken it to things of nature. The downward course of a fall that +takes many waters till it rushes irresistibly is not the course of any +life. Yet it is true that our destiny is of our own weaving. Carlo's +involvements cast him into extreme peril, almost certain death, unless +he abjured his honour, dearer than a life made precious by love. Merthyr +saw that it was not vanity, but honour; for Carlo stood pledged to lead +a forlorn enterprise, the ripeness of his own scheming. In the imminent +hour Carlo had recognized his position as Merthyr with the wisdom of +years looked on it. That was what had paralyzed the older man, though +he could not subsequently trace the cause. Thinking of the beauty of +the youth, husband of the woman who was to his soul utterly an angel, +Merthyr sat in the anguish of self-accusation, believing that some +remonstrance, some inspired word, might have turned him, and half +dreading to sound his own heart, as if an evil knowledge of his nature +haunted it. + +He rose up at last with a cry. The door opened, and Giacinta, Vittoria's +maid, appeared, bearing a lamp. She had been sitting outside, waiting +to hear him stir before she intruded. He touched her cheek kindly, and +thought that one could do little better than die, if need were, in the +service of such a people. She said that her mistress was kneeling. She +wished to make coffee for him, and Merthyr let her do it, knowing the +comfort there is to a woman in the ministering occupation of her hands. +It was soon daylight. Beppo had not come back to the house. + +“No one has left the house?” Merthyr asked. + +“Not since--” she answered convulsively. + +“The Countess d'Isorella is here?” + +“Yes, signore.” + +“Asleep?” he put the question mournfully, in remembrance of Carlo's “Let +her sleep!” + +“Yes, signore; like the first night after confession.” + +“She resides, I think, in the Corso Venezia. When she awakens, let her +know that I request to have the honour of conducting her.” + +“Yes, signore. Her carriage is still at the gates. The countess's horses +are accustomed to stand.” + +Merthyr knew this for a hint against his leaving, as well as against the +lady's character. + +“Let your mistress be assured that I shall on no account be long absent +at any time.” + +“Signore, I shall do so,” said Giacinta. + +She brought him word soon after, that Countess d'Isorella was stirring. +Merthyr met Violetta on the stairs. + +“Can it be true?” she accosted him first. + +“Count Ammiani has left for Brescia,” he replied. + +“In spite of my warning?” + +Merthyr gave space for her to pass into the room. She appeared +undecided, saying that she had a dismal apprehension of her not having +dismissed her coachman overnight. + +“In spite of my warning,” she murmured again, “he has really gone? +Surely I cannot have slept more than three hours.” + +“It was Count Ammiani's wish that you should enjoy your full sleep +undisturbed in his house,” said Merthyr, “As regards your warning to +him, he has left Milan perfectly convinced of the gravity of a warning +that comes from you.” + +Violetta shrugged lightly. “Then all we have to do is to pray for the +success of Carlo Alberto.” + +“Oh! pardon me, countess,” Merthyr rejoined, “prayers may be useful, but +you at least have something to do besides.” + +His eyes caught hers firmly as they were letting a wild look of +interrogation fall on him, and he continued with perfect courtesy, “You +will accompany me to see Countess Anna of Lenkenstein. You have great +influence, madame. It is not Count Ammiani's request; for, as I informed +you, it was his wish that you should enjoy your repose. The request is +mine, because his life is dear to me. Nagen, I think, is the name of the +Austrian officer who has started for Brescia.” + +She had in self-defence to express surprise while he spoke, which +compelled her to meet his mastering sight and submit to a struggle +of vision sufficient to show him that he had hit a sort of guilty +consciousness. Otherwise she was not discomposed, and with marvellous +sagacity she accepted the forbearance he assumed, not affecting +innocence to challenge it, as silly criminals always do when they are +exposed, but answering quite in the tone of innocence, and so throwing +the burden by an appearance of mutual consent on some unnamed third +person. + +“Certainly; let us go to Countess Anna of Lenkenstein, if you think fit. +I have to rely on your judgement. I quite abjure my own. If I have to +plead for anything, I am going before a woman, remember.” + +“I do not forget it,” said Merthyr. + +“The expedition to Brescia may be unfortunate,” she resumed hurriedly; +“I wish it had not been undertaken. At any rate, it rescues Count +Ammiani from an expedition to Rome, and his slavish devotion to that +priest-hating man whom he calls, or called, his Chief. At Brescia he is +not outraging the head of our religion. That is a gain.” + +“A gain for him in the next world?” said Merthyr. “I believe that +Countess Anna of Lenkenstein is also a fervent Catholic; is she not?” + +“I trust so.” + +“On behalf of her peace of mind, I trust so, too. In that case, she also +must be a sound sleeper.” + +“We shall have to awaken her. What excuse--what am I to say to her?” + +“I beg you to wait for the occasion, Countess d'Isorella. The words will +come.” + +Violetta bit her lip. She had consented to this extraordinary step in +an amazement. As she contemplated it now, it seemed worse than a partial +confession and an appeal to his generosity. She broke out in pity for +her horses, in dread of her coachman, declaring that it was impossible +for her to give him the order to drive her anywhere but home. + +“With your permission, countess, I will undertake to give him the +order,” said Merthyr. + +“But have you no compassion, signor Powys? and you are an Englishman! I +thought that Englishmen were excessively compassionate with horses.” + +“They have been known to kill them in the service of their friends, +nevertheless.” + +“Well!”--Violetta had recourse to the expression of her shoulders--“and +I am really to see Countess Anna?” + +“In my presence.” + +“Oh! that cannot be. Pardon me; it is impossible. She will decline the +scene. I say it with the utmost sincerity: I know that she will refuse.” + +“Then, countess,” Merthyr's face grew hard, “if I am not to be in your +company to prompt you, allow me to instruct you beforehand.” + +Violetta looked at him eagerly, as one looks for tidings, with an +involuntary beseeching quiver of the strained eyelids. + +“No irony!” she said, fearing horribly that he was about to throw off +the mask of irony. + +This desperate effort of her wits at the crisis succeeded. + +Merthyr, not knowing what design he had, hopeless of any definite end in +tormenting the woman, and never having it in his mind merely to punish, +was diverted by the exclamation to speak ironically. “You can tell +Countess Anna that it is only her temporal sovereign who is attacked, +and that therefore--” he could not continue. + +“Some affection?” he murmured, in intense grief. + +His manly forbearance touched her whose moral wit was too blunt to +apprehend the contempt in it. + +“Much affection--much!” Violetta exclaimed. “I have a deep affection for +Count Ammiani; an old friendship. Believe me! believe me! I came here +last night to save him. Anything on earth that I can do, I will do--on +my honour; and do not smile at that--I have never pledged it without +fulfilling the oath. I will not sleep while I can aid in preserving him. +He shall know that I am not the base person he has conceived me to be. +You, signor Powys, are not a man to paint all women black that are a +little less than celestial--are you? I am told it is a trick with your +countrymen; and they have a poet who knew us! I entreat you to +confide in me. I am at present quite unaware that Count Ammiani runs +particular--I mean personal danger. He is in danger, of course; everyone +can see it. But, on my honour--and never in my life have I spoken so +earnestly, my friends would hardly recognize me--I declare to you on my +faith as a Christian lady, I am ignorant of any plot against him. I +can take a Cross and kiss it, like a peasant, and swear to you by the +Madonna that I know nothing of it.” + +She corrected her ardour, half-exulting in finding herself carried so +far and so swimmingly on a tide of truth, half wondering whether the +flowering beauty of her face in excitement had struck his sensibility. +He was cold and speculative. + +“Ah!” she said, “if I were to ask my compatriots to put faith in a +woman's pure friendship for a man, I should know the answer; but you, +signor Powys, who have shown us that a man is capable of the purest +friendship for a woman, should believe me.” + +He led her down to the gates, where her coachman sat muffled in a +three-quarter sleep. The word was given to drive to her own house; +rejoiced by which she called his attention deploringly to the condition +of her horses, requesting him to say whether he could imagine them the +best English, and confessing with regret, that she killed three sets +a year--loved them well, notwithstanding. Merthyr saw enough of her to +feel that she was one of the weak creatures who are strong through our +greater weakness; and, either by intuition or quick wit, too lively +and too subtle to be caught by simple suspicion. She even divined that +reflection might tell him she had evaded him by an artifice--a piece +of gross cajolery; and said, laughing: “Concerning friendship, I could +offer it to a boy, like Carlo Ammiani; not to you, signor Powys. I know +that I must check a youth, and I am on my guard. I should be eternally +tormented to discover whether your armour was proof.” + +“I dare say that a lady who had those torments would soon be able to +make them mine,” said Merthyr. + +“You could not pay a fairer compliment to some one else,” she remarked. +In truth, the candid personal avowal seemed to her to hold up Vittoria's +sacred honour in a crystal, and the more she thought of it, the more she +respected him, for his shrewd intelligence, if not for his sincerity; +but on the whole she fancied him a loyal friend, not solely a clever +maker of phrases; and she was pleased with herself for thinking such a +matter possible, in spite of her education. + +“I do most solemnly hope that you may not have to sustain Countess +Alessandra under any affliction whatsoever,” she said at parting. + +Violetta had escaped an exposure--a rank and naked accusation of +her character and deeds. She feared nothing but that, being quite +indifferent to opinion; a woman who would not have thought it +preternaturally sad to have to walk as a penitent in the streets, with +the provision of a very thick veil to cover her. She had escaped, but +the moment she felt herself free, she was surprised by a sharp twinge of +remorse. She summoned her maid to undress her, and smelt her favourite +perfume, and lay in her bed, to complete her period of rest, closing +her eyes there with a child's faith in pillows. Flying lights and +blood-blotches rushed within a span of her forehead. She met this +symptom promptly with a medical receipt; yet she had no sleep; nor +would coffee give her sleep. She shrank from opium as deleterious to the +constitution, and her mind settled on music as the remedy. + +Some time after her craving for it had commenced, an Austrian foot +regiment, marching to the drum, passed under her windows. The fife is a +merry instrument; fife and drum colour the images of battle gaily; but +the dull ringing Austrian step-drum, beating unaccompanied, strikes +the mind with the real nature of battles, as the salt smell of powder +strikes it, and more in horror, more as a child's imagination realizes +bloodshed, where the scene is a rolling heaven, black and red on +all sides, with pitiable men moving up to the mouth of butchery, the +insufferable flashes, the dark illumination of red, red of black, like a +vision of the shadows Life and Death in a shadow-fight over the dear men +still living. Sensitive minds may be excited by a small stimulant to see +such pictures. This regimental drum is like a song of the flat-headed +savage in man. It has no rise or fall, but leads to the bloody business +with an unvarying note, and a savage's dance in the middle of the +rhythm. Violetta listened to it until her heart quickened with alarm +lest she should be going to have a fever. She thought of Carlo Ammiani, +and of the name of Nagen; she had seen him at the Lenkensteins. Her +instant supposition was that Anna had perhaps paid heavily for the +secret of Carlo's movements an purpose to place Major Nagen on the +Brescian high-road to capture him. Capture meant a long imprisonment, if +not execution. Partly for the sake of getting peace of mind--for she was +shocked by her temporary inability to command repose--but with some hope +of convincing Carlo that she strove to be of use to him, she sent for +the spy Luigi, and at a cost of two hundred and twenty Austrian florins, +obtained his promise upon oath to follow Count Ammiani into Brescia, if +necessary, and deliver to him a letter she had written, wherein Nagen's +name was mentioned, and Carlo was advised to avoid personal risks; the +letter hinted that he might have incurred a private enmity, and he had +better keep among his friends. She knew the writing of this letter to +be the foolishest thing she had ever done. Two hundred and twenty +florins--the man originally stipulated to have three hundred--was a +large sum to pay for postage. However, sacrifices must now and then be +made for friendship, and for sleep. When she had paid half the money, +her mind was relieved, and she had the slumber which preserves beauty. +Luigi was to be paid the other half on his return. “He may never +return,” she thought, while graciously dismissing him. The deduction by +mental arithmetic of the two hundred and twenty, or the one hundred and +ten florins, from the large amount Countess Anna was bound to pay her +in turn, annoyed her, though she knew it was a trifle. For this lady, +Milan, Turin, and Paris sighed deeply. + +When he had left Violetta at her house in the Corso, Merthyr walked +briskly for exercise, knowing that he would have need of his health and +strength. He wanted a sight of Alps to wash out the image of the woman +from his mind, and passed the old Marshal's habitation fronting the +Gardens, wishing that he stood in the field against the fine old +warrior, for whom he had a liking. Near the walls he discovered Beppo +sitting pensively with his head between his two fists. Beppo had not +seen Count Ammiani, but he had seen Barto Rizzo, and pointing to the +walls, said that Barto had dropped down there. He had met him hurrying +in the Corso Francesco. Barto took him to the house of Sarpo, the +bookseller, who possessed a small printing-press. Beppo described +vividly, with his usual vivacity of illustration, the stupefaction of +the man at the apparition of his tormentor, whom he thought fast in +prison; and how Barto had compelled him to print a proclamation to the +Piedmontese, Lombards, and Venetians, setting forth that a battle had +been fought South of the Ticino, and that Carlo Alberto was advancing +on Milan, signed with the name of the Piedmontese Pole in command of the +king's army. A second, framed as an order of the day, spoke of victory +and the planting of the green, white and red banner on the Adige, and +forward to the Isonzo. + +“I can hear nothing of Carlo Alberto's victory,” Beppo said; “no one has +heard of it. Barto told us how the battle was fought, and the name of +the young lieutenant who discovered the enemy's flank march, and got the +artillery down on him, and pounded him so that--signore, it's amazing! +I'm ready to cry, and laugh, and howl!--fifteen thousand men capitulated +in a heap!” + +“Don't you know you've been listening to a madman?” said Merthyr, +irritated, and thoroughly angered to see Beppo's opposition to that +view. + +“Signore, Barto described the whole battle. It began at five o'clock in +the morning.” + +“When it was dark!” + +“Yes; when it was dark. He said so. And we sent up rockets, and caught +the enemy coming on, and the cavalry of Alessandria fell upon two +batteries of field guns and carried them off, and Colonel Romboni was +shot in his back, and cries he, 'Best give up the ghost if you're hit in +the rear. Evviva l'Italia!'” + +“A Piedmontese colonel, you fool! he would have shouted 'Viva Carlo +Alberto!'” said Merthyr, now critically disgusted with the tale, and +refusing to hear more. Two hours later, he despatched Beppo to Carlo +in Brescia, warning him that for some insane purpose these two +proclamations had been printed by Barto Rizzo, and that they were false. + +It was early on the morning of a second day, before sunrise, when +Vittoria sent for Merthyr to conduct her to the cathedral. “There has +been a battle,” she said. Her lips hardly joined to frame the syllables +in speech. Merthyr refrained from asking where she had heard of the +battle. As soon as the Duomo doors were open, he led her in and left her +standing shrinking under the great vault with her neck fearfully drawn +on her shoulders, as one sees birds under thunder. He thought that she +was losing courage. Choosing to go out on the steps rather than look +on her, he was struck by the sight of two horsemen, who proved to be +Austrian officers, rattling at racing speed past the Duomo up the Corso. +The sight of them made it seem possible that a battle had been fought. +As soon as he was free, Merthyr went to the Duchess of Graatli, from +whom he had the news of Novara. The officers he had seen were Prince +Radocky and Lieutenant Wilfrid Pierson, the old Marshal's emissaries of +victory. They had made a bet on the bloody field about reaching Milan +first, and the duchess affected to be full of the humour of this bet +in order to conceal her exultation. The Lenkensteins called on her; the +Countess of Lenkenstein, Anna, and Lena; and they were less considerate, +and drew their joy openly from the source of his misery--a dreadful +house for Merthyr to remain in; but he hoped to see Wilfrid, having +heard the duchess rally Lena concerning the deeds of the white umbrella, +which, Lena said, was pierced with balls, and had been preserved for +her. “The dear foolish fellow insisted on marching right into the midst +of the enemy with his absurd white umbrella; and wherever there was +danger the men were seen following it. Prince Radocky told me the +whole army was laughing. How he escaped death was a miracle!” She spoke +unaffectedly of her admiration for the owner, and as Wilfrid came in she +gave him brilliant eyes. He shook Merthyr's hand without looking at +him. The ladies would talk of nothing but the battle, so he went up to +Merthyr, and under pretext of an eager desire for English news, drew him +away. + +“Her husband was not there? not at Novara, I mean?” he said. + +“He's at Brescia,” said Merthyr. + +“Well, thank goodness he didn't stand in those ranks!” + +Wilfrid murmured, puffing thoughtfully over the picture they presented +to his memory. + +Merthyr then tried to hint to him that he had a sort of dull suspicion +of Carlo's being in personal danger, but of what kind he could not say. +He mentioned Weisspriess by name; and Nagen; and Countess Anna. Wilfrid +said, “I'll find out if there's anything, only don't be fancying it. The +man's in a bad hole at Brescia. Weisspriess, I believe, is at Verona. +He's an honourable fellow. The utmost he would do would be to demand +a duel; and I'm sure he's heartily sick of that work. Besides, he and +Countess Anna have quarrelled. Meet me;--by the way, you and I mustn't +be seen meeting, I suppose. The duchess is neutral ground. Come here +to-night. And don't talk of me, but say that a friend asks how she is, +and hopes--the best things you can say for me. I must go up to their +confounded chatter again. Tell her there's no fear, none whatever. +You all hate us, naturally; but you know that Austrian officers are +gentlemen. Don't speak my name to her just yet. Unless, of course, she +should happen to allude to me, which is unlikely. I had a dismal idea +that her husband was at Novara.” + +The tender-hearted duchess sent a message to Vittoria, bidding her not +to forget that she had promised her at Meran to 'love her always.' + +“And tell her,” she said to Merthyr, “that I do not think I shall +have my rooms open for the concert to-morrow night. I prefer to let +Antonio-Pericles go mad. She will not surely consider that she is bound +by her promise to him? He drags poor Irma from place to place to make +sure the miserable child is not plotting to destroy his concert, as that +man Sarpo did. Irma is half dead, and hasn't the courage to offend him. +She declares she depends upon him for her English reputation. She has +already caught a violent cold, and her sneezing is frightful. I have +never seen so abject a creature. I have no compassion at the sight of +her.” + +That night Merthyr heard from Wilfrid that a plot against Carlo Ammiani +did exist. He repeated things he had heard pass between Countess +d'Isorella and Irma in the chamber of Pericles before the late battle. +Modestly confessing that he was 'for some reasons' in high favour with +Countess Lena, he added that after a long struggle he had brought her +to confess that her sister had sworn to have Countess Alessandra Ammiani +begging at her feet. + +By mutual consent they went to consult the duchess. She repelled the +notion of Austrian women conspiring. “An Austrian noble lady--do you +think it possible that she would act secretly to serve a private hatred? +Surely I may ask you, for my sake, to think better of us?” + +Merthyr showed her an opening to his ground by suggesting that Anna's +antipathy to Victoria might spring more from a patriotic than a private +source. + +“Oh! I will certainly make inquiries, if only to save Anna's reputation +with her enemies,” the duchess answered rather proudly. + +It would have been a Novara to Pericles if Vittoria had refused to sing. +He held the pecuniarily-embarrassed duchess sufficiently in his power to +command a concert at her house; his argument to those who pressed him +to spare Vittoria in a season of grief running seriously, with visible +contempt of their intellects, thus: “A great voice is an ocean. You +cannot drain it with forty dozen opera-hats. It is something found--an +addition to the wealth of this life. Shall we not enjoy what we find? +You do not wear out a picture by looking at it; likewise you do not wear +out a voice by listening to it. A bird has wings;--here is a voice. +Why were they given? I should say, to go into the air. Ah; but not if +grandmother is ill. What is a grandmother to the wings and the voice? If +to sing would kill,--yes, then let the puny thing be silent! But Sandra +Belloni has a soul that has not a husband--except her Art. Her body is +husbanded; but her soul is above her body. You would treat it as below. +Art is her soul's husband! Besides, I have her promise. She is a girl +who will go up to a loaded gun's muzzle if she gives her word. And +besides, her husband may be shot to-morrow. So, all she sings now is +clear gain.” + +Vittoria sent word to him that she would sing. + +In the meantime a change had come upon Countess Anna. Weisspriess, her +hero, appeared at her brother's house, fresh from the field of Novara, +whither he had hurried from Verona on a bare pretext, that was a +breach of military discipline requiring friendly interposition in +high quarters. Unable to obtain an audience with Count Lenkenstein, +he remained in the hall, hoping for things which he affected to care +nothing for; and so it chanced that he saw Lena, who was mindful that +her sister had suffered much from passive jealousy when Wilfrid returned +from the glorious field, and led him to Anna, that she also might +rejoice in a hero. Weisspriess did not refrain from declaring on the way +that he would rather charge against a battery. Some time after, Anna lay +in Lena's arms, sobbing out one of the wildest confessions ever made by +woman:--she adored Weisspriess; she hated Nagen; but was miserably bound +to the man she hated. “Oh! now I know what love is.” She repeated this +with transparent enjoyment of the opposing sensations by whose shock the +knowledge was revealed to her. + +“How can you be bound to Major Nagan?” asked Lena. + +“Oh! why? except that I have been possessed by devils.” + +Anna moaned. “Living among these Italians has distempered my blood.” She +exclaimed that she was lost. + +“In what way can you be lost?” said Lena. + +“I have squandered more than half that I possess. I am almost a beggar. +I am no longer the wealthy Countess Anna. I am much poorer than anyone +of us.” + +“But Major Weisspriess is a man of honour, and if he loves you--” + +“Yes; he loves me! he loves me! or would he come to me after I have +sent him against a dozen swords? But he is poor; he must, must marry a +wealthy woman. I used to hate him because I thought he had his eye on +money. I love him for it now. He deserves wealth; he is a matchless +hero. He is more than the first swordsman of our army; he is a knightly +man. Oh my soul Johann!” She very soon fell to raving. Lena was implored +by her to give her hand to Weisspriess in reward for his heroism--“For +you are rich,” Anna said; “you will not have to go to him feeling that +you have made him face death a dozen times for your sake, and that you +thank him and reward him by being a whimpering beggar in his arms. +Do, dearest! Will you? Will you, to please me, marry Johann? He is not +unworthy of you.” And more of this hysterical hypocrisy, which brought +on fits of weeping. “I have lived among these savages till I have ceased +to be human--forgotten everything but my religion,” she said. “I wanted +Weisspriess to show them that they dared not stand up against a man of +us, and to tame the snarling curs. He did. He is brave. He did as much +as a man could do, but I was unappeasable. They seem to have bitten me +till I had a devouring hunger to humiliate them. Lena, will you believe +that I have no hate for Carlo Ammiani or the woman he has married? None! +and yet, what have I done!” Anna smote her forehead. “They are nothing +but little dots on a field for me. I don't care whether they live or +die. It's like a thing done in sleep.” + +“I want to know what you have done,” said Lena caressingly. + +“You at least will try to reward our truest hero, and make up to him for +your sister's unkindness, will you not?” Anna replied with a cajolery +wonderfully like a sincere expression of her wishes. “He will be a good +husband.. He has proved it by having been so faithful a--a lover. So you +may be sure of him. And when he is yours, do not let him fight again, +Lena, for I have a sickening presentiment that his next duel is his +last.” + +“Tell me,” Lena entreated her, “pray tell me what horrible thing you +have done to prevent your marrying him.” + +“With their pride and their laughter,” Anna made answer; “the fools! +were they to sting us perpetually and not suffer for it? That woman, the +Countess Alessandra, as she's now called--have you forgotten that she +helped our Paul's assassin to escape? was she not eternally plotting +against Austria? And I say that I love Austria. I love my country; I +plot for my country. She and her husband plot, and I plot to thwart +them. I have ruined myself in doing it. Oh, my heart! why has it +commenced beating again? Why did Weisspriess come here? He offended me. +He refused to do my orders, and left me empty-handed, and if he suffers +too,” Anna relieved a hard look with a smile of melancholy, “I hope he +will not; I cannot say more.” + +“And I'm to console him if he does?” said Lena. + +“At least, I shall be out of the way,” said Anna. “I have still money +enough to make me welcome in a convent.” + +“I am to marry him?” Lena persisted, and half induced Anna to act a +feeble part, composed of sobs and kisses and full confession of her +plight. Anna broke from her in time to leave what she had stated of +herself vague and self-justificatory, so that she kept her pride, and +could forgive, as she was ready to do even so far as to ask forgiveness +in turn, when with her awakened enamoured heart she heard Vittoria sing +at the concert of Pericles. Countess Alessandra's divine gift, which she +would not withhold, though in a misery of apprehension; her grave eyes, +which none could accuse of coldness, though they showed no emotion; +her simple noble manner that seemed to lift her up among the forces +threatening her; these expressions of a superior soul moved Anna under +the influence of the incomparable voice to pass over envious contrasts, +and feel the voice and the nature were one in that bosom. Could it be +the same as the accursed woman who had stood before her at Meran? She +could hardly frame the question, but she had the thought sufficiently +firmly to save her dignity; she was affected by very strong emotion +when Vittoria's singing ended, and nothing but the revival of the +recollection of her old contempt preserved her from an impetuous desire +to take the singer by the hand and have all clear between them; for they +were now of equal rank to tolerating eyes. “But she has no religious +warmth!” Anna reflected with a glow of satisfaction. The concert was +broken up by Laura Piaveni. She said out loud that the presence of Major +Weisspriess was intolerable to the Countess Alessandra. It happened +that Weisspriess entered the room while Laura sat studying the effect +produced by her countrywoman's voice on the thick eyelids of Austrian +Anna; and Laura, seeing their enemy ready to weep in acknowledgment of +their power, scorned the power which could never win freedom, and broke +up the sitting, citing the offence of the presence of Weisspriess for +a pretext. The incident threw Anna back upon her old vindictiveness. +It caused an unpleasant commotion in the duchess's saloon. Count +Serabiglione was present, and ran round to Weisspriess, apologizing for +his daughter's behaviour. “Do you think I can't deal with your women as +well as your men, you ass?” said Weisspriess, enraged by the scandal of +the scene. He was overheard by Count Karl Lenkenstein, who took him to +task sharply for his rough speech; but Anna supported her lover, and +they joined hands publicly. Anna went home prostrated with despair. +“What conscience is in me that I should wish one of my Kaiser's officers +killed?” she cried enigmatically to Lena. “But I must have freedom. Oh! +to be free. I am chained to my enemy, and God blesses that woman. He +makes her weep, but he blesses her, for her body is free, and mine,--the +thought of mine sets flames creeping up my limbs as if I were tied to +the stake. Losing a husband you love--what is that to taking a husband +you hate?” Still Lena could get no plain confession from her, for Anna +clung to self-justification, and felt it abandoning her, and her soul +fluttering in a black gulf when she opened her month to disburden +herself. + +There came tidings of the bombardment of Brescia one of the historic +deeds of infamy. Many officers of the Imperial army perceived the shame +which it cast upon their colours, even in those intemperate hours, +and Karl Lenkenstein assumed the liberty of private friendship to go +complaining to the old Marshal, who was too true a soldier to condemn +a soldier in action, however strong his disapproval of proceedings. +The liberty assumed by Karl was excessive; he spoke out in the midst of +General officers as if his views were shared by them and the Marshal; +and his error was soon corrected; one after another reproached +him, until the Marshal, pitying his condition, sent him into his +writing-closet, where he lectured the youth on military discipline. +It chanced that there followed between them a question upon what the +General in command at Brescia would do with his prisoners; and hearing +that they were subject to the rigours of a court-martial, and if +adjudged guilty, would forthwith summarily be shot, Karl ventured to ask +grace for Vittoria's husband. He succeeded finally in obtaining his kind +old Chief's promise that Count Ammiani should be tried in Milan, and as +the bearer of a paper to that effect, he called on his sisters to get +them or Wilfrid to convey word to Vittoria of her husband's probable +safety. He found Anna in a swoon, and Lena and the duchess bending +over her. The duchess's chasseur Jacob Baumwalder Feckelwitz had been +returning from Moran, when on the Brescian high-road he met the spy +Luigi, and acting promptly under the idea that Luigi was always a +pestilential conductor of detestable correspondence, he attacked him, +overthrew him, and ransacked him, and bore the fruit of his sagacious +exertions to his mistress in Milan; it was Violetta d'Isorella's letter +to Carlo Ammiani. “I have read it,” the duchess said; “contrary to any +habits when letters are not addressed to me. I bring it open to your +sister Anna. She catches sight of one or two names and falls down in the +state in which you see her.” + +“Leave her to me,” said Karl. + +He succeeded in extracting from Anna hints of the fact that she had +paid a large sum of her own money to Countess d'Isorella for secrets +connected with the Bergamasc and Brescian rising. “We were under a +mutual oath to be silent, but if one has broken it the other cannot; so +I confess it to you, dearest good brother. I did this for my country at +my personal sacrifice.” + +Karl believed that he had a sister magnificent in soul. She was glad to +have deluded him, but she could not endure his praises, which painted to +her imagination all that she might have been if she had not dashed her +patriotism with the low cravings of vengeance, making herself like some +abhorrent mediaeval grotesque, composed of eagle and reptile. She was +most eager in entreating him to save Count Ammiani's life. Carlo, she +said, was their enemy, but he had been their friend, and she declared +with singular earnestness that she should never again sleep or hold up +her head, if he were slain or captured. + +“My Anna is justified by me in everything she has done,” Karl said to +the duchess. + +“In that case,” the duchess replied, “I have only to differ with her to +feel your sword's point at my breast.” + +“I should certainly challenge the man who doubted her,” said Karl. + +The duchess laughed with a scornful melancholy. + +On the steps of the door where his horse stood saddled, he met Wilfrid, +and from this promised brother-in-law received matter for the challenge. +Wilfrid excitedly accused Anna of the guilt of a conspiracy to cause +the destruction of Count Ammiani. In the heat of his admiration for his +sister, Karl struck him on the cheek with his glove, and called him a +name by which he had passed during the days of his disgrace, signifying +one who plays with two parties. Lena's maid heard them arrange to meet +within an hour, and she having been a witness of the altercation, ran to +her mistress in advance of Wilfrid, and so worked on Lena's terrors on +behalf of her betrothed and her brother, that Lena, dropped at Anna's +feet telling her all that she had gathered and guessed in verification +of Wilfrid's charge, and imploring her to confess the truth. Anna, +though she saw her concealment pierced, could not voluntarily forego +her brother's expressed admiration of her, and clung to the tatters of +secresy. After a brief horrid hesitation, she chose to face Wilfrid. +This interview began with lively recriminations, and was resulting +in nothing--for Anna refused to be shaken by his statement that the +Countess d'Isorella had betrayed her, and perceived that she was +listening to suspicions only--when, to give his accusation force, +Wilfrid said that Brescia had surrendered and that Count Ammiani had +escaped. + +“And I thank God for it!” Anna exclaimed, and with straight frowning +eyes demanded the refutation of her sincerity. + +“Count Ammiani and his men have five hours' grace ahead of Major Nagen +and half a regiment,” said Wilfrid. + +At this she gasped; she had risen her breath to deny or defy, and hung +on the top of it without a voice. + +“Tell us--say, but do say--confess that you know Nagen to be a name of +mischief,” Lena prayed her. + +“I will say anything to prevent my brother from running into danger,” + Anna rejoined. + +“She is most foully accused by one whom we permitted to aspire to be of +our own family,” said Karl. + +“Yet you, Karl, have always been the first to declare her revengeful,” + Lena turned to him. + +“Help, Karl, help me,” said Anna. + +“Yes!” cried her sister; “there you stand, and ask for help, meanest of +women! Do you think these men are not in earnest? Karl is to help you, +and you will not speak a word to save him from a grave before night, or +me from a lover all of blood.” + +“Am I to be the sacrifice?” said Anna. + +“Whatever you call it, Wilfrid has spoken truth of you, and to none but +members of our family; and he had a right to say it, and you are bound +now to acknowledge it.” + +“I acknowledge that I love and serve my country, Lena.” + +“Not with a pure heart: you can't forgive. Insult or a wrong makes a +madwoman of you. Confess, Anna! You know well that you can't kneel to +a priest's ear, for you've stopped your conscience. You have pledged +yourself to misery to satisfy a spite, and you have not the courage to +ask for--” Lena broke her speech like one whose wits have been kindled. +“Yes, Karl,” she resumed; “Anna begged you to help her. You will. Take +her aside and save her from being miserable forever. You do mean to +fight my Wilfrid?” + +“I am certainly determined to bring him to repentance leaving him the +option of the way,” said Karl. + +Lena took her sullen sister by the arm. + +“Anna, will you let these two men go--to slaughter? Look at them; they +are both our brothers. One is dearer than a brother to me, and, oh God! +I have known what it is to half-lose him. You to lose a lover and +have to go bound by a wretched oath to be the wife of a detestable +short-sighted husband! Oh, what an abominable folly!” + +This epithet, 'short-sighted,' curiously forced in by Lena, was like a +shock of the very image of Nagen's needle features thrust against Anna's +eyes; the spasm of revulsion in her frame was too quick for her habitual +self-control. + +At that juncture Weisspriess opened the door, and Anna's eyes met his. + +“You don't spare me,” she murmured to Lena. + +Her voice trembled, and Wilfrid bent his head near her, pressing her +hand, and said, “Not only I, but Countess Alessandra Ammiani exonerates +you from blame. As she loves her country, you love yours. My words +to Karl were an exaggeration of what I know and think. Only tell me +this;--if Nagen captures Count Ammiani, how is he likely to deal with +him?” + +“How can I inform you?” Anna replied coldly; but she reflected in a +fire of terror. She had given Nagen the prompting of a hundred angry +exclamations in the days of her fever of hatred; she had nevertheless +forgotten their parting words; that is, she had forgotten her mood when +he started for Brescia, and the nature of the last instructions she had +given him. Revolting from the thought of execution being done upon Count +Ammiani, as one quickly springing out of fever dreams, all her white +face went into hard little lines, like the withered snow which +wears away in frost. “Yes,” she said; and again, “Yes,” to something +Weisspriess whispered in her ear, she knew not clearly what. Weisspriess +told Wilfrid that he would wait below. As he quitted the room, the +duchess entered, and went up to Anna. “My good soul,” she said, “you +have, I trust, listened to Major Weisspriess. Oh, Anna! you wanted +revenge. Now take it, as becomes a high-born woman; and let your enemy +come to your feet, and don't spurn her when she is there. Must I inform +you that I have been to Countess d'Isorella myself with a man who can +compel her to speak? But Anna von Lenkenstein is not base like that +Italian. Let them think of you as they will, I believe you to have a +great heart. I am sure you will not allow personal sentiment to sully +your devotion to our country. Show them that our Austrian faces can be +bright; and meet her whom you call your enemy; you cannot fly. You +must see her, or you betray yourself. The poor creature's husband is in +danger of capture or death.” + +While the duchess's stern under-breath ran on hurriedly, convincing Anna +that she had, with no further warning, to fall back upon her uttermost +strength--the name of Countess Alessandra Ammiani was called at the +door. Instinctively the others left a path between Vittoria and Anna. It +was one of the moments when the adoption of a decisive course says more +in vindication of conduct than long speeches. Anna felt that she was +on her trial. For the first time since she had looked on this woman she +noticed the soft splendour of Vittoria's eyes, and the harmony of her +whole figure; nor was the black dress of protesting Italian mourning +any longer offensive in her sight, but on a sudden pitiful, for Anna +thought: “It may at this very hour be for her husband, and she not +knowing it.” And with that she had a vision under her eyelids of Nagen +like a shadowy devil in pursuit of men flying, and striking herself and +Vittoria worse than dead in one blow levelled at Carlo Ammiani. A sense +of supernatural horror chilled her blood when she considered again, +facing her enemy, that their mutual happiness was by her own act +involved in the fate of one life. She stepped farther than the half-way +to greet her visitor, whose hands she took. Before a word was uttered +between them, she turned to her brother, and with a clear voice said: + +“Karl, the Countess Alessandra's husband, our old, friend Carlo Ammiani, +may need succour in his flight. Try to cross it; or better, get among +those who are pursuing him; and don't delay one minute. You understand +me.” + +Count Karl bowed his head, bitterly humbled. + +Anna's eyes seemed to interrogate Vittoria, “Can I do, more?” but her +own heart answered her. + +Inveterate when following up her passion for vengeance, she was +fanatical in responding to the suggestions of remorse. + +“Stay; I will despatch Major Weisspriess in my own name,” she said. +“He is a trusty messenger, and he knows those mountains. Whoever is the +officer broken for aiding Count Ammiani's escape, he shall be rewarded +by me to the best of my ability. Countess Alessandra, I have anticipated +your petition; I hope you may not have to reproach me. Remember that my +country was in pieces when you and I declared war. You will not suffer +without my suffering tenfold. Perhaps some day you will do me the favour +to sing to me, when there is no chance of interruption. At present it is +cruel to detain you.” + +Vittoria said simply: “I thank you, Countess Anna.” + +She was led out by Count Karl to where Merthyr awaited her. All wondered +at the briefness of a scene that had unexpectedly brought the crisis +to many emotions and passions, as the broken waters of the sea beat +together and make here or there the wave which is topmost. Anna's grand +initiative hung in their memories like the throbbing of a pulse, so +hotly their sensations swarmed about it, and so intensely it embraced +and led what all were desiring. The duchess kissed Anna, saying: + +“That is a noble heart to which you have become reconciled. Though you +should never be friends, as I am with one of them, you will esteem her. +Do not suppose her to be cold. She is the mother of an unborn little +one, and for that little one's sake she follows out every duty; she +checks every passion in her bosom. She will spare no sacrifice to save +her husband, but she has brought her mind to look at the worst, for fear +that a shock should destroy her motherly guard.” + +“Really, duchess,” Anna replied, “these are things for married women to +hear;” and she provoked some contempt of her conventional delicacy, at +the same time that in her imagination the image of Vittoria struggling +to preserve this burden of motherhood against a tragic mischance, +completely humiliated and overwhelmed her, as if nature had also come to +add to her mortifications. + +“I am ready to confess everything I have done, and to be known for what +I am,” she said. + +“Confess no more than is necessary, but do everything you can; that's +wisest,” returned the duchess. + +“Ah; you mean that you have nothing to learn.” Anna shuddered. + +“I mean that you are likely to run into the other extreme of +disfavouring yourself just now, my child. And,” continued the duchess, +“you have behaved so splendidly that I won't think ill of you.” + +Before the day darkened, Wilfrid obtained, through Prince Radocky's +influence, an order addressed to Major Nagen for the surrender of +prisoners into his hands. He and Count Karl started for the Val Camonica +on the chance of intercepting the pursuit. These were not much wiser +than their guesses and their apprehensions made them; but Weisspriess +started on the like errand after an interview with Anna, and he had +drawn sufficient intelligence out of sobs, and broken sentences, and +torture of her spirit, to understand that if Count Ammiani fell alive or +dead into Nagen's hands, Nagen by Anna's scrupulous oath, had a claim on +her person and her fortune: and he knew Nagen to be a gambler. As he +was now by promotion of service Nagen's superior officer, and a near +relative of the Brescian commandant, who would be induced to justify his +steps, his object was to reach and arbitrarily place himself over Nagen, +as if upon a special mission, and to get the lead of the expedition. For +that purpose he struck somewhat higher above the Swiss borders than +Karl and Wilfrid, and gained a district in the mountains above the +vale, perfectly familiar to him. Obeying directions forwarded to her +by Wilfrid, Vittoria left Milan for the Val Camonica no later than the +evening; Laura was with her in the carriage; Merthyr took horse after +them as soon as he had succeeded in persuading Countess Ammiani to +pardon her daughter's last act of wilfulness, and believe that, during +the agitation of unnumbered doubts, she ran less peril in the wilds +where her husband fled, than in her home. + +“I will trust to her idolatrously, as you do,” Countess Ammiani said; +“and perhaps she has already proved to me that I may.” + +Merthyr saw Agostino while riding out of Milan, and was seen by him; +but the old man walked onward, looking moodily on the stones, and merely +waved his hand behind. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI + +THE LAST + +There is hard winter overhead in the mountains when Italian Spring +walks the mountain-sides with flowers, and hangs deep valley-walls with +flowers half fruit; the sources of the rivers above are set about with +fangs of ice, while the full flat stream runs to a rose of sunlight. +High among the mists and snows were the fugitives of Brescia, and +those who for love or pity struggled to save them wandered through the +blooming vales, sometimes hearing that they had crossed the frontier +into freedom, and as often that they were scattered low in death and +captivity. Austria here, Switzerland yonder, and but one depth between +to bound across and win calm breathing. But mountain might call to +mountain, peak shine to peak; a girdle of steel drove the hunted men +back to frosty heights and clouds, the shifting bosom of snows and +lightnings. They saw nothing of hands stretched out to succour. They saw +a sun that did not warm them, a home of exile inaccessible, crags like +an earth gone to skeleton in hungry air; and below, the land of +their birth, beautiful, and sown everywhere for them with torture and +captivity, or death, the sweetest. Fifteen men numbered the escape from +Brescia. They fought their way twice through passes of the mountains, +and might easily, in their first dash Northward from the South-facing +hills, have crossed to the Valtelline and Engadine, but that in their +insanity of anguish they meditated another blow, and were readier to +march into the plains with the tricolour than to follow any course of +flight. When the sun was no longer in their blood they thought of reason +and of rest; they voted the expedition to Switzerland, that so they +should get round to Rome, and descended from the crags of the Tonale, +under which they were drawn to an ambush, suffering three of their party +killed, and each man bloody with wounds. The mountain befriended them, +and gave them safety, as truth is given by a bitter friend. Among icy +crags and mists, where the touch of life grows dull as the nail of a +fore-finger, the features of the mountain were stamped on them, and with +hunger they lost pride, and with solitude laughter; with endless fleeing +they lost the aim of flight; some became desperate, a few craven. +Companionship was broken before they parted in three bodies, commanded +severally by Colonel Corte, Carlo Ammiani, and Barto Rizzo. Corte +reached the plains, masked by the devotion of Carlo's band, who lured +the soldiery to a point and drew a chase, while Corte passed the +line and pushed on for Switzerland. Carlo told off his cousin Angelo +Guidascarpi in the list of those following Corte; but when he fled up +to the snows again, he beheld Angelo spectral as the vapour on a jut +of rock awaiting him. Barto Rizzo had chosen his own way, none knew +whither. Carlo, Angelo, Marco Sana, and a sharply-wounded Brescian lad, +conceived the scheme of traversing the South Tyrol mountain-range toward +Friuli, whence Venice, the still-breathing republic, might possibly be +gained. They carried the boy in turn till his arms drooped long down, +and when they knew the soul was out of him they buried him in snow, and +thought him happy. It was then that Marco Sana took his death for an +omen, and decided them to turn their heads once more for Switzerland; +telling them that the boy, whom he last had carried, uttered “Rome” with +the flying breath. Angelo said that Sana would get to Rome; and Carlo, +smiling on Angelo, said they were to die twins though they had been born +only cousins. The language they had fallen upon was mystical, scarce +intelligible to other than themselves. On a clear morning, with the +Swiss peaks in sight, they were condemned by want of food to quit their +fastness for the valley. + +Vittoria read the faces of the mornings as human creatures base tried +to gather the sum of their destinies off changing surfaces, fair not +meaning fair, nor black black, but either the mask upon the secret +of God's terrible will; and to learn it and submit, was the spiritual +burden of her motherhood, that the child leaping with her heart +might live. Not to hope blindly, in the exceeding anxiousness of her +passionate love, nor blindly to fear; not to bet her soul fly out among +the twisting chances; not to sap her great maternal duty by affecting +false stoical serenity:--to nurse her soul's strength, and suckle her +womanly weakness with the tsars which are poison--when repressed; to +be at peace with a disastrous world for the sake of the dependent life +unborn; lay such pure efforts she clung to God. Soft dreams of sacred +nuptial tenderness, tragic images, wild pity, were like phantoms +encircling her, plucking at her as she went, lest they were beneath her +feet, and she kept them from lodging between her breasts. The thought +that her husband, though he should have perished, was not a life lost +if their child lived, sustained her powerfully. It seemed to whisper at +times almost as it were Carlo's ghost breathing in her ears: “On thee!” + On her the further duty devolved; and she trod down hope, lest it should +build her up and bring a shock to surprise her fortitude; she put back +alarm. + +The mountains and the valleys scarce had names for her understanding; +they were but a scene where the will of her Maker was at work. Rarely +has a soul been so subjected to its own force. She certainly had the +image of God in her mind. + +Yet when her ayes lingered on any mountain gorge, the fate of her +husband sang within it a strange chant, ending in a key that rang +sounding through all her being, and seemed to question heaven. This +music framed itself; it was still when she looked at the shrouded +mountain-tops. A shadow meting sunlight on the long green slopes aroused +it, and it hummed above the tumbling hasty foam, and penetrated hanging +depths of foliage, sad-hued rock-clefts, dark green ravines; it became +convulsed where the mountain threw forward in a rushing upward line +against the sky, there to be severed at the head by cloud. It was silent +among the vines. + +Most painfully did human voices affect her when she had this music; +speech was a scourge to her sense of hearing, and touch distressed her: +an edge of purple flame would then unfold the vision of things to +her eyes. She had lost memory; and if by hazard unawares one idea was +projected by some sudden tumult of her enslaved emotions beyond known +and visible circumstances, her intelligence darkened with am oppressive +dread like that of zealots of the guilt of impiety. + +Thus destitute, her eye took innumerable pictures sharp as on a +brass-plate: torrents, goat-tracks winding up red earth, rocks veiled +with water, cottage and children, strings of villagers mounting to the +church, one woman kneeling before a wayside cross, her basket at +her back, and her child gazing idly by; perched hamlets, rolling +pasture-fields, the vast mountain lines. She asked all that she saw, +“Does he live?” but the life was out of everything, and these shows +told of no life, neither of joy nor of grief. She could only distantly +connect the appearance of the white-coated soldiery with the source of +her trouble. They were no more than figures on a screen that hid the +flashing of the sword which renders dumb. She had charity for one who +was footsore and sat cherishing his ankle by a village spring, and she +fed him, and not until he was far behind, thought that he might have +seen the white face of her husband. + +Accurate tidings could not be obtained, though the whole course of the +vale was full of stories of escapes, conflicts, and captures. Merthyr +learnt positively that some fugitives had passed the cordon. He came +across Wilfrid and Count Karl, who both verified it in the most sanguine +manner. They knew, however, that Major Nagen continued in the mountains. +Riding by a bend of the road, Merthyr beheld a man playing among +children, with one hand and his head down apparently for concealment at +his approach. It proved to be Beppo. The man believed that Count Ammiani +had fled to Switzerland. Barto Rizzo, he said, was in the mountains +still, and Beppo invoked damnation on him, as the author of those lying +proclamations which had ruined Brescia. He had got out of the city later +than the others and was seeking to evade the outposts, that he might +join his master--“that is, my captain, for I have only one master;” he +corrected the slip of his tongue appealingly to Merthyr. His left hand +was being continually plucked at by the children while he talked, and +after Merthyr had dispersed them with a shower of small coin, he showed +the hand, saying, glad of eye, that it had taken a sword-cut intended +for Count Ammiani. Merthyr sent him back to mount the carriage, +enjoining him severely not to speak. + +When Carlo and his companions descended from the mountains, they entered +a village where there was an inn recognized by Angelo as the abode of +Jacopo Cruchi. He there revived Carlo's animosity toward Weisspriess +by telling the tale of the passage to Meran, and his good reasons for +determining to keep guard over the Countess Alessandra all the way. +Subsequently Angelo went to Jacopo for food. This he procured, but he +was compelled to leave the man behind, and unpaid. It was dark when he +left the inn; he had some difficulty in evading a flock of whitecoats, +and his retreat from the village was still on the Austrian side. +Somewhat about midnight Merthyr reached the inn, heralding the carriage. +As Jacopo caught sight of Vittoria's face, he fell with his shoulders +straightened against the wall, and cried out loudly that he had betrayed +no one, and mentioned Major Weisspriess by name as having held the point +of his sword at him and extracted nothing better than a wave of the +hand and a lie; in other words, that the fugitives had retired to the +Tyrolese mountains, and that he had shammed ignorance of who they were. +Merthyr read at a glance that Jacopo had the large swallow and calm +digestion for bribes, and getting the fellow alone he laid money in +view, out of which, by doubling the sum to make Jacopo correct his first +statement, and then by threatening to withdraw it altogether, he gained +knowledge of the fact that Angelo Guidascarpi had recently visited the +inn, and had started from it South-eastward, and that Major Weisspriess +was following on his track. He wrote a line of strong entreaty to +Weisspriess, lest that officer should perchance relapse into anger +at the taunts of prisoners abhorring him with the hatred of Carlo and +Angelo. At the same time he gave Beppo a considerable supply of money, +and then sent him off, armed as far as possible to speed Count Ammiani +safe across the borders, if a fugitive; or if a prisoner, to ensure the +best which could be hoped for him from an adversary become generous. +That evening Vittoria lay with her head on Laura's lap, and the pearly +little crescent of her ear in moonlight by the window. So fair and young +and still she looked that Merthyr feared for her, and thought of sending +her back to Countess Ammiani. + +Her first question with the lifting of her eyelids was if he had ceased +to trust to her courage. + +“No,” said Merthyr; “there are bounds to human strength; that is all.” + +She answered: “There would be to mine--if I had not more than human +strength beside me. I bow my head, dearest; it is that. I feel that I +cannot break down as long as I know what is passing. Does my husband +live?” + +“Yes, he lives,” said Merthyr; and she gave him her hand, and went to +her bed. + +He learnt from Laura that when Beppo mounted the carriage in silence, a +fit of ungovernable wild trembling had come on her, broken at intervals +by a cry that something was concealed. Laura could give no advice; +she looked on Merthyr and Vittoria as two that had an incomprehensible +knowledge of the power of one another's natures, and the fiery creature +remained passive in perplexity of minds as soft an attendant as a +suffering woman could have: + +Merthyr did not sleep, and in the morning Vittoria said to him, “You +want to be active, my friend. Go, and we will wait for you here. I know +that I am never deceived by you, and when I see you I know that the +truth speaks and bids me be worthy of it Go up there,” she pointed with +shut eyes at the mountains; “leave me to pray for greater strength. I am +among Italians at this inn; and shall spend money here; the poor people +love it.” She smiled a little, showing a glimpse of her old charitable +humour. + +Merthyr counselled Laura that in case of evil tidings during his absence +she should reject her feminine ideas of expediency, and believe that she +was speaking to a brave soul firmly rooted in the wisdom of heaven. + +“Tell her?--she will die,” said Laura, shuddering. + +“Get tears from her,” Merthyr rejoined; “but hide nothing from her for +a single instant; keep her in daylight. For God's sake, keep her in +daylight.” + +“It's too sharp a task for me.” She repeated that she was incapable of +it. + +“Ah,” said he, “look at your Italy, how she weeps! and she has cause. +She would die in her grief, if she had no faith for what is to come. I +dare say it is not, save in the hearts of one or two, a conscious faith, +but it's real divine strength; and Alessandra Ammiani has it. Do as I +bid you. I return in two days.” + +Without understanding him, Laura promised that she would do her utmost +to obey, and he left her muttering to herself as if she were schooling +her lips to speak reluctant words. He started for the mountains with +gladdened limbs, taking a guide, who gave his name as Lorenzo, and +talked of having been 'out' in the previous year. “I am a patriot, +signore! and not only in opposition to my beast of a wife, I assure you: +a downright patriot, I mean.” Merthyr was tempted to discharge him at +first, but controlled his English antipathy to babblers, and discovered +him to be a serviceable fellow. Toward nightfall they heard shots up +a rock-strewn combe of the lower slopes; desultory shots indicating +rifle-firing at long range. Darkness made them seek shelter in a +pine-hut; starting from which at dawn, Lorenzo ran beating about like a +dog over the place where the shots had sounded on the foregoing day; he +found a stone spotted with blood. Not far from the stone lay a military +glove that bore brown-crimson finger-ends. They were striking off to +a dairy-but for fresh milk, when out of a crevice of rock overhung +by shrubs a man's voice called, and Merthyr climbing up from perch to +perch, saw Marco Sana lying at half length, shot through hand and +leg. From him Merthyr learnt that Carlo and Angelo had fled higher up; +yesterday they had been attacked by coming who tried to lure there to +surrender by coming forward at the head of his men and offering safety, +and “other gabble,” said Marco. He offered a fair shot at his heart, +too, while he stood below a rock that Marco pointed at gloomily as a +hope gone for ever; but Carlo would not allow advantage to be taken of +even the treacherous simulation of chivalry, and only permitted firing +after he had returned to his men. “I was hit here and here,” said Marco, +touching his wounds, as men can hardly avoid doing when speaking of the +fresh wound. Merthyr got him on his feet, put money in his pocket, and +led him off the big stones painfully. “They give no quarter,” Marco +assured him, and reasoned that it must be so, for they had not taken +him prisoner, though they saw him fall, and ran by or in view of him in +pursuit of Carlo. By this Merthyr was convinced that Weisspriess +meant well. He left his guide in charge of Marco to help him into the +Engadine. Greatly to his astonishment, Lorenzo tossed the back of his +hand at the offer of money. “There shall be this difference between me +and my wife,” he remarked; “and besides, gracious signore, serving my +countrymen for nothing, that's for love, and the Tedeschi can't punish +me for it, so it's one way of cheating them, the wolves!” Merthyr shook +his hand and said, “Instead of my servant, be my friend;” and Lorenzo +made no feeble mouth, but answered, “Signore, it is much to my honour,” + and so they went different ways. + +Left to himself Merthyr set step vigorously upward. Information from +herdsmen told him that he was an hour off the foot of one of the passes. +He begged them to tell any hunted men who might come within hail that a +friend ran seeking them. Farther up, while thinking of the fine nature +of that Lorenzo, and the many men like him who could not by the very +existence of nobility in their bosoms suffer their country to go through +another generation of servitude, his heart bounded immensely, for he +heard a shout and his name, and he beheld two figures on a rock near the +gorge where the mountain opened to its heights. But they were not Carlo +and Angelo. They were Wilfrid and Count Karl, the latter of whom had +discerned him through a telescope. They had good news to revive him, +however: good at least in the main. Nagen had captured Carlo and Angelo, +they believed; but they had left Weisspriess near on Nagen's detachment, +and they furnished sound military reasons to show why, if Weisspriess +favoured the escape, they should not be present. They supposed that they +were not half-a-mile from the scene in the pass where Nagen was being +forcibly deposed from his authority: Merthyr borrowed Count Karl's +glass, and went as they directed him round a bluff of the descending +hills, that faced the vale, much like a blown and beaten sea-cliff. +Wilfrid and Karl were so certain of Count Ammiani's safety, that their +only thought was to get under good cover before nightfall, and +haply into good quarters, where the three proper requirements of the +soldier-meat, wine, and tobacco--might be furnished to them. After an +imperative caution that they should not present themselves before the +Countess Alessandra, Merthyr sped quickly over the broken ground. How +gaily the two young men cheered to him as he hurried on! He met a sort +of pedlar turning the bluntfaced mountain-spur, and this man said, “Yes, +sure enough, prisoners had been taken,” and he was not aware of harm +having been done to them; he fancied there was a quarrel between two +captains. His plan being always to avoid the military, he had slunk +round and away from them as fast as might be. An Austrian common +soldier, a good-humoured German, distressed by a fall that had hurt +his knee-cap, sat within the gorge, which was very wide at the mouth. +Merthyr questioned him, and he, while mending one of his gathered +cigar-ends, pointed to a meadow near the beaten track, some distance up +the rocks. Whitecoats stood thick on it. Merthyr lifted his telescope +and perceived an eager air about the men, though they stood ranged in +careless order. He began to mount forthwith, but amazed by a sudden +ringing of shot, he stopped, asking himself in horror whether it could +be an execution. The shots and the noise increased, until the confusion +of a positive mellay reigned above. The fall of the meadow swept to +a bold crag right over the pathway, and with a projection that seen +sideways made a vulture's head and beak of it. There rolled a corpse +down the precipitous wave of green grass on to the crag, where it +lodged, face to the sky; sword dangled from swordknot at one wrist, +heels and arms were in the air, and the body caught midway hung poised +and motionless. The firing deadened. Then Merthyr drawing nearer beneath +the crag, saw one who had life in him slipping down toward the body, +and knew the man for Beppo. Beppo knocked his hands together and groaned +miserably, but flung himself astride the beak of the crag, and took +the body in his arms, sprang down with it, and lay stunned at Merthyr's +feet. Merthyr looked on the face of Carlo Ammiani. + + + + +EPILOGUE + +No uncontested version of the tragedy of Count Ammiani's death passed +current in Milan during many years. With time it became disconnected +from passion, and took form in a plain narrative. He and Angelo +were captured by Major Nagen, and were, as the soldiers of the force +subsequently let it be known, roughly threatened with what he termed +I 'Brescian short credit.' The appearance of Major Weisspriess and +his claim to the command created a violent discussion between the two +officers. For Nagen, by all military rules, could well contest it. But +Weisspriess had any body of the men of the army under his charm, and +seeing the ascendency he gained with them over an unpopular officer, +he dared the stroke for the charitable object he had in view. Having +established his command, in spite of Nagen's wrathful protests and +menaces, he spoke to the prisoners, telling Carlo that for his wife's +sake he should be spared, and Angelo that he must expect the fate of a +murderer. His address to them was deliberate, and quite courteous: he +expressed himself sorry that a gallant gentleman like Angelo Guidascarpi +should merit a bloody grave, but so it was. At the same time he +entreated Count Ammiani to rely on his determination to save him. Major +Nagen did not stand far removed from them. Carlo turned to him and +repeated the words of Weisspriess; nor could Angelo restrain his +cousin's vehement renunciation of hope and life in doing this. He +accused Weisspriess of a long evasion of a brave man's obligation to +repair an injury, charged him with cowardice, and requested Major Nagen, +as a man of honour, to drag his brother officer to the duel. Nagen then +said that Major Weisspriess was his superior, adding that his gallant +brother officer had only of late objected to vindicate his reputation +with his sword. Stung finally beyond the control of an irritable temper, +Weisspriess walked out of sight of the soldiery with Carlo, to whom, at +a special formal request from Weisspriess, Nagen handed his sword. Again +he begged Count Ammiani to abstain from fighting; yea, to strike him and +disable him, and fly, rather--than provoke the skill of his right hand. +Carlo demanded his cousin's freedom. It was denied to him, and Carlo +claimed his privilege. The witnesses of the duel were Jenna and another +young subaltern: both declared it fair according to the laws of honour, +when their stupefaction on beholding the proud swordsman of the army +stretched lifeless on the brown leaves of the past year left them with +power to speak. Thus did Carlo slay his old enemy who would have served +as his friend. A shout of rescue was heard before Carlo had yielded up +his weapon. Four haggard and desperate men, headed by Barto Rizzo, burst +from an ambush on the guard encircling Angelo. There, with one thought +of saving his doomed cousin and comrade, Carlo rushed, and not one +Italian survived the fight. + +An unarmed spectator upon the meadow-borders, Beppo, had but obscure +glimpses of scenes shifting like a sky in advance of hurricane winds. + +Merthyr delivered the burden of death to Vittoria. Her soul had crossed +the darkness of the river of death in that quiet agony preceding the +revelation of her Maker's will, and she drew her dead husband to her +bosom and kissed him on the eyes and the forehead, not as one who had +quite gone away from her, but as one who lay upon another shore whither +she would come. The manful friend, ever by her side, saved her by his +absolute trust in her fortitude to bear the burden of the great sorrow +undeceived, and to walk with it to its last resting-place on earth +unobstructed. Clear knowledge of her, the issue of reverent love, +enabled him to read her unequalled strength of nature, and to rely +on her fidelity to her highest mortal duty in a conflict with extreme +despair. She lived through it as her Italy had lived through the hours +which brought her face to face with her dearest in death; and she also +on the day, ten years later, when an Emperor and a King stood beneath +the vault of the grand Duomo, and the organ and a peal of voices +rendered thanks to heaven for liberty, could show the fruit of her +devotion in the dark-eyed boy, Carlo Merthyr Ammiani, standing between +Merthyr and her, with old blind Agostino's hands upon his head. And then +once more, and but for once, her voice was heard in Milan. + + + ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + + A common age once, when he married her; now she had grown old + A fortress face; strong and massive, and honourable in ruin + Agostino was enjoying the smoke of paper cigarettes + An angry woman will think the worst + Anguish to think of having bent the knee for nothing + Art of despising what he coveted + As the Lord decided, so it would end! “Oh, delicious creed!” + Be on your guard the next two minutes he gets you alone + But is there such a thing as happiness + By our manner of loving we are known + Compliment of being outwitted by their own offspring + Conduct is never a straight index where the heart's involved + Confess no more than is necessary, but do everything you can + Critical in their first glance at a prima donna + Deep as a mother's, pure as a virgin's, fiery as a saint's + Defiance of foes and (what was harder to brave) of friends + Do I serve my hand? or, Do I serve my heart? + English antipathy to babblers + Every church of the city lent its iron tongue to the peal + Fast growing to be an eccentric by profession + Foolish trick of thinking for herself + Forgetfulness is like a closing sea + Fortitude leaned so much upon the irony + Good nerve to face the scene which he is certain will be enacted + Government of brain; not sufficient Insurrection of heart + Grand air of pitying sadness + Had taken refuge in their opera-glasses + Hated tears, considering them a clog to all useful machinery + He is in the season of faults + He is inexorable, being the guilty one of the two + He postponed it to the next minute and the next + Her singing struck a note of grateful remembered delight + I always respected her; I never liked her + I hope I am not too hungry to discriminate + I know nothing of imagination + Impossible for us women to comprehend love without folly in man + In Italy, a husband away, ze friend takes title + Intentions are really rich possessions + Ironical fortitude + It rarely astonishes our ears It illumines our souls + Italians were like women, and wanted--a real beating + Longing for love and dependence + Love of men and women as a toy that I have played with + Madness that sane men enamoured can be struck by + Morales, madame, suit ze sun + Necessary for him to denounce somebody + Never, never love a married woman + No intoxication of hot blood to cheer those who sat at home + No word is more lightly spoken than shame + Not to be feared more than are the general race of bunglers + O heaven! of what avail is human effort? + Obedience oils necessity + Our life is but a little holding, lent To do a mighty labour + Pain is a cloak that wraps you about + Patience is the pestilence + People who can lose themselves in a ray of fancy at any season + Profound belief in her partiality for him + Question with some whether idiots should live + Rarely exacted obedience, and she was spontaneously obeyed + She thought that friendship was sweeter than love + She was sick of personal freedom + Simple obstinacy of will sustained her + Speech was a scourge to her sense of hearing + Taint of the hypocrisy which comes with shame + The devil trusts nobody + The divine afflatus of enthusiasm buoyed her no longer + They take fever for strength, and calmness for submission + Too weak to resist, to submit to an outrage quietly + Too well used to defeat to believe readily in victory + Was born on a hired bed + Watch, and wait + We are good friends till we quarrel again + We can bear to fall; we cannot afford to draw back + Went into endless invalid's laughter + Who shrinks from an hour that is suspended in doubt + Whole body of fanatics combined to precipitate the devotion + Why should these men take so much killing? + Will not admit the existence of a virtue in an opposite opinion + Women and men are in two hostile camps + You can master pain, but not doubt + Youth will not believe that stupidity and beauty can go together + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Vittoria, Complete, by George Meredith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VITTORIA, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 4443-0.txt or 4443-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/4/4443/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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