The Patriot Part 4

It was the duty of Carlotta, the Marchesa's old maid, to take Friend in her arms, and carry him off to bed, as soon as the Rosary was finished.

"He is here, Signora Marchesa," said Carlotta.

But Friend, though indeed he had been there, was somewhere else when she bent down with outstretched hand. That evening old Friend was in good spirits, and determined to play at not being caught. He would tempt Carlotta, and then slip through her fingers, taking refuge under the piano, or under the table, from whence he would peer out at the poor woman with ironical waggings of his tail, while Carlotta's lips said, "Come, come, dear!" and her heart said, "Ugly beast!"

"Friend!" exclaimed the Marchesa. "That will do, Friend! Be good!"

Franco was boiling. The nasty little monster, imbued with his mistress'

arrogance and egotism, paused at his feet, and Franco rolled him roughly towards Carlotta, who grabbed him, and punished him with an angry squeeze, and then carried him off, answering his whines with deceitful words of pity. "What did they do to you, poor Friend? What did they do to you? Tell us all about it!"

The Marchesa made no remarks, nor did her marble countenance betray her feelings. She ordered the footman to tell the prefect of the Caravina, or any one else who might call, that his mistress had retired. Franco started to leave the room behind the servants, but checked himself at once, that he might not appear to be running away. He took a number of the _Imperial and Royal Gazette_ of Milan from the mantel-shelf, and seating himself near his grandmother, began reading while he waited.

"I congratulate you heartily on the good manners and fine sentiments you displayed to us to-day," the sleepy voice began, almost immediately.

"I accept your congratulations," Franco retorted, without raising his eyes from his paper.

"Well done, my dear!" his immovable grandmother replied, and added: "I am glad that young girl had the opportunity of seeing you as you are, because, supposing she may have heard of a certain project, she will now be very glad it is no longer thought of."

"Then we are both satisfied!" said Franco.

"You cannot in the least tell if you are going to be satisfied.

Especially if you still hold the views you once held."

Upon this, Franco put his paper down, and looked his grandmother full in the face.

"What would happen," he said, "if I still held the same views I once held?"

This time he did not speak in a challenging tone, but with quiet seriousness.

"Ah! That is right!" the Marchesa exclaimed. "Let us speak plainly! I hope and believe that a certain event will never take place, but should it take place, do not flatter yourself that there will be anything for you at my death, for I have already arranged matters so that there will be nothing."

"Oh! as to that----" the young man began, with indifference.

"That is the score you would have to settle with me," the Marchesa continued. "Then there would be a score to settle with G.o.d."

"How is that?" Franco questioned. "G.o.d shall come first with me, and you afterwards!"

When the Marchesa was caught in a mistake she always talked straight on as if nothing had happened.

"And it will be a heavy score," said she.

"But it must be settled first!" Franco insisted.

"Because," the formidable old woman continued, "a good Christian is in duty bound to obey his father and his mother, and I represent both your father and your mother."

If the one was obstinate, the other was no less so.

"But G.o.d comes first!" said he.

The Marchesa rang the bell and closed the conversation thus--

"Now we understand each other perfectly."

When Carlotta entered she rose from the sofa, and said, placidly--

"Good-night."

"Good-night," Franco answered, and resumed the _Milan Gazette_.

As soon as his grandmother had left the room he flung the paper aside, clenched his fists, and giving vent to his anger in a sort of furious snort, sprang to his feet, saying aloud--

"Ah! It is better so! Better, better so!" It was better so, he continued to a.s.sure himself mutely. Better never to bring Luisa to this accursed house, better never to oblige her to bear this rule, this arrogance, this voice, this face! Better to live on bread and water, and look to hard work for the rest, rather than to accept anything from his grandmother's hand. Better become a gardener, d---- it! a boatman, or a charcoal burner!

He went up to his room determined to break with all obligations. "A score to settle with G.o.d!" he exclaimed, banging the door behind him. "A score to settle with G.o.d if I marry Luisa! Ah! after all, what do I care? Let them see me, spy upon me, bring her the news. Let them tell her, let them sing it to her in every key. I shall be delighted!"

He dressed himself in feverish haste, knocking against the chairs, and closing the drawers with a bang. In his recklessness he put on a black suit, went noisily downstairs, called the old footman, told him he should be out all night, and, not heeding the half-astonished, half-terrified face of the poor fellow, who was devoted to him, rushed into the street, and was lost in the darkness.

He had been gone two or three minutes when the Marchesa, who was already in bed, sent Carlotta to see who had come running downstairs. Carlotta reported that it was Don Franco, and was at once dispatched again on a second errand. "What did Don Franco want?" This time the answer was, that Don Franco had gone out for a few moments. The "few moments" was added out of kindness by the old servant. The Marchesa told Carlotta to go away, but not to put out the light. "You will return when I ring,"

said she.

It was past midnight when the bell sounded.

The maid hurried to her mistress.

"Is Don Franco still out?"

"Yes, Signora Marchesa."

"Put out the light. Take your knitting and wait in the ante-room. When he returns come and tell me."

Having given these orders, the Marchesa rolled over on her side, turning her face towards the wall, and leaving the amazed and ill-pleased maid to stare at that white, smooth, impenetrable enigma, her night-cap.

CHAPTER III

THE GREAT STEP

That same evening at exactly ten o'clock the engineer Ribera knocked gently twice on the door of Signor Giacomo Puttini's house at Albogasio Superiore. Presently a window above his head was opened, and a little, old, clean-shaven face of "Sior Zacomo" himself appeared in the moonlight.

"Most wors.h.i.+pful engineer, my respects!" said he. "The servant is coming down to let you in."

"That is not necessary," the other answered. "I am not coming up. It is time to start, so you had better join me at once."

Signor Giacomo began to puff and wink hard.