The Patriot Part 28

On the morning of the seventh of January, shortly after ten o'clock, Uncle Piero sent for Franco.

The uncle was still in bed. He was in the habit of rising late, because his room could not be heated, and for the sake of economy he did not wish the fire in the little salon lighted too early. However, the cold did not prevent his sitting up in bed and reading, half his chest and both arms outside the covers.

"_Ciao!_ Good-morning!" said he, as Franco entered.

From the tone of his greeting, from the expression of the fine face, serious in its kindliness, Franco understood that Uncle Piero was about to say something unusual.

In fact, the uncle pointed to the chair beside his bed, and uttered the most solemn of his exordiums--

"Sit you down!"

Franco sat down.

"So you are leaving to-morrow?"

"Yes, uncle."

"Good!"

It would seem that in uttering that "Good!" the uncle's heart came into his mouth, for the word filled his cheeks, and came out full and ringing.

"So far," the old man continued, "you have never heard me--let us say--either approve or disapprove of your plan. Perhaps I did not feel quite sure you would carry it out. But now----"

Franco stretched out both hands to him. "Now," Uncle Piero went on, pressing those hands in his own, "seeing you are firm in your resolve, I say to you: Your resolve is good. We are in need, go; work, work is a great thing! May G.o.d help you to begin well, and then help you to persevere, which is a far more difficult thing. There!"

Franco would have kissed his hands, but he was quick to withdraw them.

"Let them alone! Let them alone!" And he once more began to speak.

"Now listen. It is quite possible we may never meet again." Franco protested. "Yes, yes, yes!" the old man exclaimed, withdrawing his soul from his eyes and voice. "Those are all fine things, things that must be said. But let them go!"

The eyes once more resumed their kindly and serious light, and the voice its grave tone.

"It is quite possible we shall never meet again. After all, I put it to you, what good am I now in this world? It would be far better for you if I took my departure. Perhaps your grandmother resents my having taken you in; perhaps, if I were gone, it would be easier for her to accept a reconciliation. Therefore, supposing we never meet again, I beg you to make some overtures to her as soon as I am dead, if things have not already been arranged."

Franco rose and embraced his uncle with tears in his eyes.

"I have made no will," Uncle Piero continued, "and I shall not make one.

What little I have belongs to Luisa; no will is necessary. I commend Cia to your care. Do not let her want for a bed and a crust of bread. As to my funeral, three priests will suffice to sing my _requiem_ with true feeling; our own priest, Intrioni, and the Prefect of Caravina. There is no necessity of having five, who will sing it for love of the candles and the white wine. Leave the question of my clothes to Luisa, she will know what to do with them. You yourself will keep my repeater to remind you of me. I should like to leave Maria a keepsake, but what shall it be? I might give her a piece of my gold chain. If you have a little medallion or a crucifix you may attach it to my chain and hang it round her neck. And now, Amen!"

Franco was in tears. It was a great shock to hear the uncle speak of his death thus calmly, as if it had been some matter of business which must be arranged judiciously and honestly; the uncle who, when conversing with his friends, seemed so deeply attached to life that he would often say: "If one could only avoid that inevitable breakdown!!"

"Ah! Now tell me," said Uncle Piero, "what sort of work do you expect to find?"

"T. writes that at first I am to go into a newspaper office in Turin.

Perhaps I shall find something better later on. If I don't earn enough to live on in the office, and nothing else turns up, I shall come back.

Therefore all this must be kept perfectly secret--at least, for a time."

Uncle Piero was incredulous concerning the possibility of secrecy. "And how about the letters?" he inquired.

As to letters, it had been arranged that Franco should address his to the postoffice at Lugano, and Ismaele would take those from the family to Lugano, and bring back his. And what should they tell their friends?

They had already said that Franco was going to Milan, on the eighth, on business, and would be absent perhaps a month, perhaps longer.

"It is not the most agreeable thing in the world to have to throw dust in people's eyes," the uncle said. "But however...! I am going to embrace you now, Franco, for I know you are leaving early to-morrow morning, and we shall hardly be alone together to-day. Good-bye, then.

Once more, remember all my injunctions, and don't forget me. Oh, one thing more! You are going to Turin. As a government official I always did what I could to be of service to my country. I never conspired, and I would not conspire even now, but I have always loved my country. And so, salute the tricolour for me. Good-bye, my dear boy!"

Then Uncle Piero opened his arms.

"You shall come to Piedmont also, uncle," Franco said, as he rose from that embrace, greatly moved. "If I can only manage to earn money enough I shall send for you all."

"Ah no, my dear boy! I am too old, I shall not make another move."

"Very well, then. I myself will come next spring, with two hundred thousand of my friends."

"That's it! Two hundred thousand pumpkins! A fine idea! Fine hopes!--Oh!

here is Signorina Missipip."

Signorina Missipip--thus the family called Maria in happy moments--came in, dignified and serious. "Good-morning, uncle. Will you say 'Missipip' for me?"

Her father lifted her up and placed her on Uncle Piero's bed. Smiling the old man drew her towards him, and set her across his legs.

"Come here, miss. Did you sleep well? And did the doll sleep well, and the mule also? The mule was not there? So much the better. Yes, yes! I am coming to 'Missipip.' Am I not to have a kiss first? Only one? Then I shall have to say:

Proud shade of the river Of Missipip, Don't play you are bashful, But of kisses give three."

Maria listened as if hearing the lines for the first time, then she burst out laughing, and began to jump and clap her hands, while her uncle laughed with her.

"Papa," said she, suddenly becoming serious. "Why are you crying? Have you been naughty?"

They expected many friends would call that day, many who had promised to come and say good-bye to Franco before his departure for Milan. Luisa performed the miracle of lighting the stove in Siberia, as Uncle Piero called the hall, and at one time Donna Ester, the two Pauls from Loggio, Paolin and Paolon, and Professor Gilardoni were all there together. Then presently Signora Peppina arrived, most unexpectedly, for she had never been to see them since the search. "Oh, my dear _Sura_ Luisa! Oh, my dear Don Franco! Is it true you are really going away?" Paolin began to s.h.i.+ft uneasily on his chair, for he feared Signora Peppina had been sent by her husband to see who had and who had not rallied round the suspected man, in this house that was under the ban. He longed to go away at once with his Paolon, but Paolon was more dense. "How shall I manage now, with this idiot, who doesn't understand anything?" thought Paolin, and without looking at Paolon he said to him, in an undertone: "Let us go, _Paol_, let us go!" It did indeed take Paolon some time to get it through his head, but finally he arose and went out with Paolin, getting his lesson on the stairs.

Franco had the same thought as Paolin, and greeted Signora Peppina coldly. The poor woman could have wept, for she dearly loved his wife, and held Franco himself in great esteem, but she understood his aversion, and in her heart excused it. Franco was relieved when Veronica came to call him.

He was wanted in the kitchen garden. He went there and found Signor Giacomo Puttini and Don Giuseppe Costabarbieri, who had come to say good-bye, but having been informed by Paolin and Paolon of the presence of Signora Peppina, they did not wish her to see them. Even the soil of the kitchen-garden scorched their feet. While the little lean hero was puffing and parrying Franco's invitation to go up to the house, the little fat hero was rolling his head and his small eyes like a good-natured blackbird, looking from the hills to the lake, almost from a habit of suspicion. He caught sight of a boat coming from Porlezza.

Who knows? Might it not be bringing the Imperial and Royal Commissary?

Although the boat was still at some distance, he immediately began to cast about for an excuse for going away, and determined to take Puttini to call upon the Receiver, as they would be sure of not finding Signora Peppina at home.

Having lavished many hasty and muttered compliments on Franco, the two old hares trotted off, with bowed heads, leaving Franco in the kitchen-garden. Meanwhile the boat Don Giuseppe had seen had come rapidly forward, and was now pa.s.sing in front of the garden, at some distance from the sh.o.r.e. It contained a lady and a gentleman. The gentleman rose and saluted Franco in a loud voice: "How are you, Don Franco? Long life to you!" The lady waved her handkerchief. The Pasottis! Franco saluted with his hat.

The Pasottis in Valsolda in January! Why had they come? And that greeting! Pasotti salute him thus? Pasotti, who had never been near them since the search? What did all this mean? Franco, greatly perplexed, went up to the house and told the news. All were amazed, and most of all Signora Peppina. "How? Do you really mean it? The Signor Controller of all men! And Signora Barborin also, poor little woman!" The event was excitedly discussed. Some thought one thing, some another. In about five minutes Pasotti came noisily in, dragging Signora Barborin behind him.

She was laden with shawls and bundles and half dead with the cold. The poor creature could only keep repeating: "Two hours in the boat! Two hours in the boat!"

"Whatever brought you to Valsolda in this weather, _Sura_ Pasotti?"

Peppina screamed at her. "Oh, gracious! She don't understand anything, poor little woman!" And though Luisa and Ester shouted the same question in her ear, and though she opened her mouth wide, the poor deaf woman could not understand, and continued to answer at random: "Have I had my dinner? If I will dine here?" At last Pasotti came to the rescue, and told them that he and his wife had been called away by urgent business in October, and the last was.h.i.+ng had been left undone. His wife had been worrying him for some time about that blessed was.h.i.+ng, and finally he had made up his mind to satisfy her by coming. Then Donna Ester turned to Signora Pasotti, going through the pantomime of was.h.i.+ng.

Barborin glanced at her husband, who had his eyes fixed upon her, and answered: "Yes, yes. The was.h.i.+ng! The was.h.i.+ng!" That glance, the order she read in the Controller's eyes, made Luisa suspect a mystery underlying all this. This mystery and the inexplicable effusiveness of Pasotti suggested another suspicion to her. What if they had come on her account and Franco's? What if the Professor's trip to Lodi had something to do with bringing about this unexpected visit? She would have liked to consult the Professor and beg him to remain until the Pasottis had left, but then, how could she speak to him without Franco's noticing it?

Meanwhile Donna Ester was saying good-bye, and Gilardoni was graciously permitted to escort her home.