The Patriot Part 41

"Poor fellow!" said Pedraglio. "You hit him too hard."

V. replied that he had touched him with the gentleness of a woman, and pa.s.sing the carbine to Pedraglio, he seized the guard by the collar of his uniform, pulled him to his feet, and made him run his arms through the straps of the _gerla_.

"Go ahead, you fraud!" said he. "March, lazy-bones!"

Up, up, ever upwards they climbed through the thick mist. The hillside was extremely steep, and it was all they could do to find foothold between the clumps of soft gra.s.s. They slipped, they laboured with hands and feet, but they heeded naught, struggling ever upwards for freedom's sake. Up, up, ever upwards, through the thick mist, invisible as spirits, first the false Marianna, then the guard puffing and groaning under the heavy _gerla_, then the false _Scior Zacomo_ promising him a fine view from the top, and from time to time encouraging him with the point of the carbine. The carbine worked miracles. In half an hour the three had reached the crest, from whence the hill slopes down towards Bre, lying only a short distance below the summit. Then, sitting upon the gra.s.s, they let themselves slide rapidly downwards. Presently it began to rain, and the mist grew thinner, and below them, at their feet, they could see the red of the woodlands. _Scior Zacomo's_ venerable top-hat was the first to reach the spot, hurled from above by Pedraglio with a joyful "Hurrah for Italy!" as he himself slid onwards, arm in arm with the guard. At Bre Pedraglio called the whole town together by firing off the carbine in sign of exultation, and then he distributed _anesone triduo_ among the men, and administered it in smaller doses to the girls. He begged the curate to allow him to hang the tail-coat in the church as a votive offering, sat down to eat with the guard, got the priest to preach him a sermon on the duty of pardoning blows in the stomach, and read a verse of the monkish poem to him, which ended thus:

At this point the good priest did exclaim: My views are no longer the same.

After this he had no difficulty in demonstrating to him that if this Padre Lanternone had suddenly changed his opinions, he, the guard, would be fully justified in changing his, and he finally persuaded him to desert. The guard ended by casting aside his uniform and donning the tail-coat, amidst the laughter and applause of all present. The only one who did not join in the laughter was the lawyer. "What may not have happened to poor Maironi?" said he.

Franco did not cross Castello. Upon reaching the little Rovaja chapel he hastened downwards by the path that leads to the fountain at Caslano, reached the narrow lane that goes to Casarico and followed it upwards as far as the last turning just below Castello, where the church of Puria becomes visible beneath its amphitheatre of crags; then he turned into the valley on the right, hastening along a path fit for goats only, climbed upwards once more below the church of Loggio, and reached Villa Maironi without having met any one.

Carlo, the old servant who opened the door for him, nearly fainted with emotion as he kissed Franco's hands. At that moment the doctor was in the sick room. Franco decided to wait until he should come out, and meanwhile took the faithful old man into his confidence, telling that the gendarmes were at his heels. Dr. Aliprandi soon came out, and Franco, who knew him to be a patriot, confided in him also, for he must show himself, and make inquiries about his grandmother. Aliprandi had been called in the night, after the prefect had left for Oria. He had found the Marchesa in a state of nervous excitement, tormented by a terrible fear of death, but exhibiting no symptoms of illness. At present she seemed quite calm. Franco had her informed of his arrival, and was ushered into the room by the maid, who looked at him with obsequious curiosity, and then withdrew.

The half-open shutters of the room where the Marchesa lay, admitted only two slanting streaks of grey light, which did not reach the face, thrown back upon the pillow. On entering Franco could not see that face, but he heard the familiar, sleepy voice saying:

"Is that you, Franco?"

"Yes, grandmother. Good-morning," and he stooped to kiss her. The waxen mask was unruffled, but there was a vague and gloomy expression about the eyes that seemed at once desire and terror. "I am dying, you know, Franco," said the Marchesa. Franco protested, and repeated what the doctor had said to him. His grandmother listened, gazing eagerly at him, trying to read in his eyes if the doctor had really spoken thus. Then she answered:

"It makes no difference. I am quite ready."

From the changed expression on her face and in her voice Franco understood perfectly that she was quite ready to live twenty years longer. "I am sorry for your bereavement," said she, "and I forgive you."

Franco had not expected words of pardon from her. He had believed it was for him to bring forgiveness, not to receive it. Comforted and rea.s.sured, the Marchesa of every day was gradually reappearing beneath the Marchesa of an hour. She was willing to purchase peace of mind, but she was like the sordid miser who, having yielded to the temptation of gratifying some desire, allowed the price of his enjoyment to escape painfully from between his tightly-clasped fingers, trying the while to keep back as much as possible behind his nails. At another time Franco's wrath would have burst forth, he would have rejected that forgiveness angrily, but now, with his sweet Maria in his heart, he could not feel thus. He had however noticed that his grandmother had proffered her forgiveness to him alone. This was too much; he could not pa.s.s this over.

"My wife, my wife's uncle, and I myself have suffered much beside this last bereavement," said he, "and now we have lost our only comfort.

Uncle Ribera I leave out of the question; you, I myself, all must bow before him, but if my wife and I have sinned against you, let us make forgiveness mutual."

This was a bitter pill, but the Marchesa swallowed it in silence.

Although she no longer saw death at her bedside, her heart still trembled with the terror inspired by the apparition, and by certain words the prefect had spoken on hearing her confession. "I shall make a will," she said, "and I wish you to know that the whole Maironi property will go to you."

Ah, Marchesa, Marchesa! Poor, icy creature! Did she believe she could purchase peace at this price? In this the prefect also had blundered, for it was he who had advised her to make this declaration to her grandson, kind, honest man that he was, but entirely without tact, and incapable of understanding Franco's lofty soul. The idea that she might think he had been prompted by sordid motives to come to her, was intolerable to Franco. "No, no!" he exclaimed, quivering, and fearing his hot temper would get the better of him after all. "No, no! Don't leave me anything. It will be quite enough if you will allow the interest on my own money to be paid at Oria. Grandmother, you must leave the Maironi property to the Ospitale Maggiore. I fear my ancestors did very wrong to keep it."

His grandmother had not time to answer, for there came a knock at the door. The prefect entered, and offering as an excuse that he would tire the invalid, persuaded Franco to say good-bye. "You must make haste,"

said he, when they were outside. "You have done more than your duty here. Too many people are now aware of your presence, and the gendarmes may appear at any moment. I have arranged everything with Aliprandi. He considers a consultation necessary for the Marchesa, and will take the Villa Maironi gondola and go to Lugano for a doctor. The two boatmen will be Carlo and yourself. There are those oil-cloth cloaks with hoods.

Put on one of those and remain in the stern. Now we must shave off that pointed beard of yours, and then with the hood drawn over your head, no one will possibly be able to recognise you. You will be perfectly safe.

Perhaps you may not even be obliged to put in at the customs-house. At any rate, they will not recognise you. If there is any talking to be done, Carlo can do it."

The idea was good. The Marchesa's gondola was always looked upon by the agents of Austria with the greatest respect; as if it were carrying an egg of the double-headed eagle. Even when returning from Lugano it was made to stop at the customs-house simply _pro forma_.

It was past eight o'clock when the gondola left the boathouse. From the lofty summits the mist had descended upon the lake, and it was raining.

Sad, sad day! Sad, sad journey! Neither Franco, the servant, nor Aliprandi spoke a word. They pa.s.sed S. Mamette and Casarico, and then, amidst the mist beyond the olives of Maine, the white walls of Maria's resting-place appeared. Franco's eyes filled with tears. "No, dear," he thought; "no, love; no, my life, you are not there; and I thank my G.o.d, who tells me not to believe this horrid thing!" A few strokes more and there was the little house of happy days, of bitter hours, of misfortune; there was the window of the room where Luisa was giving herself up to black grief, the loggia where, henceforth, poor old Uncle Piero would spend his days alone, that just man who was going down to the grave in silence, in tribulation, in weariness. Franco longed to know what had happened after his departure; if the police had worried Uncle Piero and Luisa. In vain he strained his eyes: no living being was to be seen either on the terrace, in the little garden, or at the windows of the loggia. All was silent, all was calm. He stopped rowing, searching for some sign of life. Dr. Aliprandi opened the door of the _felze_[S] and begged him to resume his rowing, begged him not betray himself. At that moment Leu came to the parapet of the little garden, with a jug in her hand; she glanced at the gondola and then entered the loggia. Uncle Piero must be in the loggia, and they were taking him the customary gla.s.s of milk, so probably nothing had happened. Franco once more began to row, and Dr. Aliprandi closed the door. They glided past the little garden, past the other houses of Oria, and the gondola turned towards the landing-stage of the customs-house.

Bianconi, sitting under an umbrella and fis.h.i.+ng for tench, spied the gondola, and, dropping his pole, came forward to pay his respects to the Marchesa. But he found Dr. Aliprandi instead, who so upset him by his alarming account of the lady that he felt called upon to summon his Peppina and impart the news to her; and Peppina, poor woman, was obliged to act a little comedy of affliction under her Carlascia's umbrella.

Both husband and wife exhorted Aliprandi to make haste, to return quickly. The big mastiff gave him permission to cross directly from Gandria to Cressogno on the way back. Then the doctor turned to Franco, and gave the order to proceed. Franco had listened to the conversation standing motionless, his hands clasping his oar, and hoping to hear something about his friends or his family. But no word was breathed concerning either police, arrests, or flights, and Casa Ribera might have been in China. The gondola backed slowly away from the landing-stage, turned its prow towards Gandria, gliding ever further and further away until it had slipped across the frontier, and vanished in the mist.

On reaching the Lugano sh.o.r.e, Dr. Aliprandi opened the door, and called Franco into the little cabin. Their acquaintance was only slight, but they embraced like brothers. "When the cannonading begins I shall be there also," Aliprandi said.

They must say good-bye here, and Franco must go ash.o.r.e first and alone, for Lugano was full of spies and the doctor must also be cautious.

Besides, Aliprandi was in no hurry. He was more anxious to find a boatman than a physician. Franco drew his hood over his eyes, stepped ash.o.r.e and went directly to the Albergo della Corona.

Some hours later, when the gondola had started homewards, he went out in search of some one from Valsolda who might give him news, and directed his steps towards the Fontana pharmacy. Under the arcades he met his two friends, who had just left the pharmacy. They fell upon his neck, and wept with emotion. They also had been in search of news, and at the pharmacy they had heard that Franco had been arrested. What joy to find him here, and to feel they were standing on free soil!

FOOTNOTES:

[Q] _Gerla_: a basket the peasants both in Switzerland and in North Italy carry fastened upon their backs. [_Translator's note._]

[R] _Anesone triduo_: a sort of very coa.r.s.e and very strong anisette.

[_Translator's note._]

[S] _Felze_: the cover which is placed upon gondolas in winter or in bad weather. It forms a tiny cabin. [_Translator's note._]

Part III

CHAPTER I

THE SAGE SPEAKS

No less than three springs had come and gone since the autumn of 1855 without bringing to the banks of the Ticino that mustering of armies and of banners that the Italians had expected. In February, 1859, all were convinced that a fourth spring could not pa.s.s thus. Great events, duly pre-announced by a splendid comet, were approaching. The old world was quivering and creaking inwardly, as does a frozen river on the eve of a thaw. That deadly cold and awful silence which had lasted ten years, was about to disappear, to be swept away amidst the clamour of strife and destruction, by new currents, warm and brilliant. Carlascia was playing the braggart, and would talk to his guards (who made no comments) of an impending military expedition to Turin. Signor Puttini had never entirely recovered from the shock he had received on that memorable morning; and the lawyer's treachery, the tragic end of the top-hat, the comic end of the tail-coat, had deeply affected him, and he had lost all respect for patriots. Dr. Aliprandi was already in Piedmont. A veteran subaltern of the army of Napoleon, who lived in Puria, was secretly furbis.h.i.+ng up his old uniform, with the intention of presenting himself before the French Emperor when he should enter Italy. Whenever Intrioni, the curate of Castello, met Don Giuseppe Costabarbieri, he would remind him of a certain rhyme of 1796 which he, Don Giuseppe, had gone about repeating in 1848, but which he had soon hidden away again.

The mighty Ulans Came here from Hungary, But the Frenchman's arms Made them all promptly flee!

Don Giuseppe, greatly alarmed, would cry: "Hus.h.!.+ Hus.h.!.+"

Meanwhile the violets continued to grow as peacefully on the slopes of Valsolda as if nothing were happening. On the evening of the twentieth of February, Luisa carried a bunch to the cemetery. She was still in mourning. Pallid and emaciated, her eyes had become larger, and there were many silver threads in her hair. She seemed to have grown twenty years older since her bereavement. Upon leaving the cemetery she turned towards Albogasio, and joined some women from Oria, who were going to recite the Rosary in the parish church. She no longer seemed the same dark phantom that had laid the violets on Maria's grave. She talked calmly, almost gaily, first with one, then with another of the women; inquired after a sick animal, praised and caressed a little girl who was going to the Rosary with her grandmother, and told her to sit very still in church, as her Maria had always done. She said this and mentioned Maria very quietly, but the women shuddered and were filled with astonishment, for Luisa herself never went to church now. She asked one of the girls if the young men were going to act a play as usual, and if her brother was to take part. Upon receiving an answer in the affirmative she offered to help with the costumes. She left the others on the church-place of the Annunciata, and as she went down the Calcinera alone her face once more resumed its spectral appearance.

She was on her way to Casarico to see the Gilardonis, who had been married three years. The professor's happiness and his adoration of Ester would deserve to be told in verse! Uncle Piero said of him that he had grown feeble-minded. Ester feared he might become ridiculous, and would not allow him to a.s.sume certain ecstatic poses before her when there was anyone present. The only person in whose presence she did not insist upon the observance of this rule was Luisa. But Gilardoni always showed the greatest deference for Luisa; to him she was still a superhuman being; to his respect for the woman herself had been added his respect for her grief, and in her presence his behaviour was always most circ.u.mspect. Luisa had been going to Casa Gilardoni almost every evening for about two years now, and if anything could have troubled the couple's happiness it would have been these visits.

Indeed, their motive was a strange one, and one repugnant to Ester, but Ester's affection for her friend, and her pity for her bereavement, were so great, while her heart was so full of remorse for not having looked after Maria more carefully on that terrible day, that she did not dare to resolutely oppose her wishes, or dissuade her husband from gratifying them. She expressed her disapproval to Luisa, and begged her at least to maintain secrecy concerning the nightly doings in the professor's study, but she went no further. The professor, on the contrary, would have enjoyed these seances had it not been for his wife's disapproval. It was already dark when Luisa rang the bell at the little door of Casa Gilardoni. Ester herself opened it. Luisa did not return her greeting, which she felt was full of embarra.s.sment. She simply looked at her, but when they reached the little parlour on the ground-floor where Ester was in the habit of spending her evenings, she embraced her so pa.s.sionately that Ester burst into tears. "Have patience with me!" Luisa said. "It is all that is left me!" Ester tried to comfort her, telling her that happier times were coming for her; that she and Franco would soon be reunited. In a few months Lombardy would be free, and Franco would come home. And then--and then--so many things might happen! Perhaps Maria might return! Luisa started violently and caught her friend's hands.

"No!" she cried. "Do not say such things! Never! Never! I am all hers! I belong to Maria alone!" Ester could not answer, for at that point the smiling professor came bustling into the room.

He saw that his wife's eyes were wet with tears and that Luisa was greatly excited. He greeted her very quietly and sat down in silence beside Ester, in the belief that they had been discussing the usual subject, which was so painful to his wife. She would have liked to send him away and resume her conversation with Luisa, but did not venture to do so. Luisa was shuddering at that spectre of future danger which would sometimes stand vaguely outlined before her mind's eye, but which she had always banished with horror, never pausing to examine it, and which now, evoked by her friend's words, rose before her, naked and distinct.

After a long and painful silence Ester sighed, and said in a low voice:

"You may go if you like. Go, both of you."