A Siren

by Thomas Adolphus Trollope

  CHAPTER V

  "Miserrimus"

  He found the Marchese in a state which really seemed to threaten hislife or his reason. It would scarcely be correct to say of him that hewas depressed, for that phrase is hardly consistent with the feverishcondition of excitement in which he was. There was evidence enough inhis appearance of the presence of deep-seated and torturing misery,especially devastating in the case of men of his race, constituted asthey are with nervous systems of great delicacy, and unendowed with thatrobustness of fibre which enables the more strongly-fashioned scions ofthe northern peoples to stand up against misfortune, and present a boldfront to adversity.

  There is no connection in the minds of this race between the repressionand control of emotion and their ideal of virile dignity. Reticence isimpossible to them. The Italian man, it is true, has been oftendescribed as eminently reticent; and the northern popular conceptionrepresents him as apt to seek the attainment of his object by theconcealment of it. Nor is that representation an erroneous one. But thetwo statements are in no wise inconsistent. The Italian man is bynature, habit, and training an adept at concealing his thoughts; herarely or never seeks to conceal his emotions.

  Whether there were thoughts in the Marchese's mind, which he had no wishor intention to disclose to his visitor, might be a matter ofspeculation to the latter. But he certainly made no attempt to hide themisery which was consuming him. The outward appearance of the man waseloquent enough of the disorder within. He had always been wont to beespecially neat and precise in his dress; clean shaven, and with thatlook of bright freshness on his clear-complexioned and well-roundedcheeks, which is specially suggestive of health, happiness, andwell-to-do prosperity. Now his cheeks were hollow and yellow, and grislystubble of uncared-for beard, covered his deeply-lined jaws. He wasdressed, if dressed it could be called, in a large loose chamberwrapper, the open neck of which, and of the shirt beneath it, allowedthe visitor's eye to mark that the emaciation which a few days of miseryand anxiety had availed to cause, was not confined to his face only.

  But yet more remarkable was the terrible state of nervous restlessnessfrom which he was evidently suffering. He was unable to remain quiet inhis easy chair even while his visitor remained with him. He would everynow and then rise from it without reason, and pace the room for two orthree turns with the uneasy objectless manner of a wild animal confinedto a cage. Again and again he would go to the window, and gaze from it,as though looking for some expected thing or person. He spoke andbehaved as if he had been most anxious for the coming of the lawyer, andyet, now he was there, he seemed scarcely able to command his attentionsufficiently to take interest in the tidings Signor Fortini brought him.

  "Thank God, Signor Marchese, the news I bring is good. Thank God, I amable to express to you my conscientious opinion that the MarcheseLudovico had no more to do with the murder of this unfortunate womanthan I had. And such is now the general opinion throughout the city."

  "Is there anything new? Has any--any--discovery been made?" said theMarchese, and his teeth chattered in his head as he spoke.

  "Nothing that I can quite call a discovery," returned the lawyer; "butsmall circumstances in such a case as this, when carefully put together,form a clue, which rarely fails, when one has enough of them, to lead upto the desired truth."

  "Ah!--small circumstances, as you say--yes--but circumstances--eh?--dothey not often--must we not be very careful--eh?" and the Marchese shookas he spoke, till the lawyer really began to think that he must belabouring under an attack of the same illness that had seized on fatherFabiano.

  "Fortunately, Signor Marchese, the circumstances all point, in thepresent instance, in the direction we would wish. That is," added thelawyer, hastily, "God forbid that I should wish such a crime to bebrought home to any human being, but in the interests of truth andjustice; and of course our first object is that the Marchese Ludovicoshould be cleared."

  "Of course, of course. Why naturally, you know--But--in whatdirection--eh?--do the suspicions--that is, the opinions--you, yourself,Signor Giovacchino--who do you think now could have done the deed?" saidthe Marchese, finishing his sentence with an apparent effort.

  "My notion is," said the lawyer, speaking strongly and distinctly, "thatthe murder was committed by the Venetian girl, Paolina Foscarelli. Youare aware of the circumstances that first directed suspicion towardsher. Alone they are very strong; but some other little matters have comeout. She has now been examined several times; and the account she givesof the hours that passed between the time she left the church of St.Apollinare, and the time when she was first seen afterwards is a verylame and unsatisfactory one. Then, my friend, Signor Logarini, of thepolice, who has been most praiseworthily active in the matter, hasdiscovered that the old friar, who has the charge of the Basilica, andwho is a Venetian, was connected with the parents of this girl, whichrenders it extremely probable that he may wish to screen her; and thatfact, taken in conjunction with the very strong reasons we have to thinkthat the friar has some knowledge of the deed, and his very manifestreluctance to tell what he knows, seems to point in the same direction."

  "The friar at St. Apollinare," said the Marchese, with blue tremblinglips, as he looked keenly into the lawyer's face; "why it is impossiblethat he could know anything about it. The friar--"

  "Impossible? why impossible, Signor Marchese? We know that he was in thePineta much about the time the deed must have been done."

  The Marchese threw himself back in his deep easy chair, and covered hisface with his hand. The lawyer paused, and shook his head as he lookedat him.

  "The friar in the Pineta!" he exclaimed, getting up from his chair aftera minute or two, and taking a few disorderly steps across the room.

  "You see; Signor Giovacchino," he continued, returning to his seat, "Ihave been so shaken by all the misery I have gone through, and all thesleepless nights I have passed, that--that--that I am hardly in a fitstate to appreciate the value of the--the facts you lay before me. Ihave been trying to think--I am afraid--very much afraid for my own partthat no weight is to be attributed to any testimony which may be gotfrom the friar of St. Apollinare."

  "Why so, Signor Marchese?" asked the lawyer, shortly.

  "I know the old man very well. I have often talked with him. He is notin his right mind: certainly not in such a state of mind as wouldjustify the magistrates in paying any attention to his statements," saidthe Marchese, in a more decided manner than he had before spoken.

  "I spoke with the old man at some length the other day, and I cannot saythat that was my impression at all. In my opinion he was quite enough inhis senses to know how to withhold the information which, I suspect, hecould give us if he would. May I ask, Signor Marchese, how long it issince you have spoken with him?"

  "Oh! a long time. How could I speak to him, you know. I do not supposehe often comes into the city. And it is ever so long--a year ormore--since I was out at St. Apollinare; as far as I can remember," saidthe Marchese, with a rapid sidelong glance at the lawyer; "but I amconvinced the old man is not in his right mind," he added, not withoutsome vehemence; "and it is dangerous to put any faith, or to build atall upon anything that such a person may say. Why, he is always seeingvisions; and what is such an one's account worth of anything he mayfancy himself to have seen."

  "Well, Signor Marchese, the tribunal will form its own opinion upon thatpoint. For my own part, I cannot help feeling glad of any scrap ofevidence which tends to corroborate the opinion that the MarcheseLudovico has been erroneously and precipitately accused."

  "Of course, Signor Giovacchino, of course. A chi lo dite! And I am trulyobliged to you for coming to me with the news you have given me. But youcan understand, perhaps--in part, Signor Giovacchino, in part--notaltogether--what I have gone through in these days. My mind has beenshaken--sadly shaken, amico mio. I shall never recover it--never," saidthe Marchese, letting his head fall on his bosom.

  "Nay, Signor Marchese. I would fain hope it is not so bad as all that.Le
t this business of the trial be over, and the Marchese Ludovico, as Idoubt not, entirely cleared and absolved, and all will yet go well. Therest is matter of sorrow which time may be trusted to heal."

  "The trial! Ay, the trial. When--eh?--when is it likely to come off,Signor Giovacchino. Yes, as you say, it would be a good thing if thatwere over," said the Marchese, with a manner that indicated a high stateof nervous irritability.

  "It won't be long; there is little or no hope of any further light beingthrown on the matter; some day next week, I should say; I don't thinkthey will be longer than that; and the sooner the better--only, that Iam afraid you may find the ordeal a disagreeable one."

  "Who? I? Why should I--? That is, of course, on Ludovico's account--"

  "Excuse me, Signor Marchese; but you must feel, surely, that it will beabsolutely necessary for you to be present in court."

  "I? I be present? Why, don't you see that I am unable to leave mychamber--shall probably never leave it again; how can I be present incourt? It is out of the question."

  "Your lordship will pardon me, Signor Marchese, if I point out to youthat it is quite indispensable that you should appear in court on theoccasion of the trial," returned the lawyer, firmly. "Your own excellentjudgment, and sense of what is fitting and due to your own position,will, I am sure, put this matter in an unmistakeable light before you.Think a little what the inferences, the remarks, the suggestions wouldbe to which your absence on such an occasion would give rise; not tomention that it can hardly be doubted that the tribunal will think itnecessary to examine your lordship respecting certain points--"

  "Me? What can I tell? What can it be necessary to examine me for? I knowabsolutely nothing; it is impossible that I should know anything of thematter; besides, I am too ill to leave my chamber."

  "Of course, if Tomosarchi were, after visiting you by direction of thetribunal, to certify that you were not in a fit state--"

  "I won't see Tomosarchi; no testimony can be needed to the fact that Iam in no condition to leave the house; I tell you, Signor Fortini, Iwill not see him; I cannot see anybody."

  "I fear, Signor Marchese, that it would be impossible in any other wayto avoid complying with the request of the tribunal for your presence.Besides that, it would be far better, in every point of view, that youshould show yourself in the court. The fact of your absence on such anoccasion could not but be unpleasantly remarked on," urged the lawyer.

  "Why? What can I be wanted for? What can I tell them? It is very evidentthat I am, and must needs be, utterly ignorant of the whole matter,"returned the Marchese.

  "There are various points on which the magistrates will, doubtless, wishfor the information which your lordship can give them, although you mayhave no means of throwing any light on the main facts of theassassination. They will wish, for instance, to ask respecting thecircumstances of the Marchese Ludovico's expedition to the Pineta. Thepolice, you must remember, Signor Marchese, are already aware that youwere cognizant of the Marchese Ludovico's intention of taking La Lallito the Pineta. That has been ascertained from the admission of the ConteLeandro--"

  "A thousand curses on the Conte Leandro," exclaimed the Marchese.

  "His figure in the matter is a deplorable one, truly; but you canunderstand, Signor Marchese, that the court will desire to ask somequestions of you on this head--nothing that you can have any difficultyin answering or any objection to answer; but I am sure you will see, onconsideration, that it would have a very bad effect for your lordship toshow the least desire to avoid being present."

  "It will be most distasteful to me--very painful, indeed--I don't thinkit ought to be required of me under all the circumstances," pleaded theunhappy man.

  "Unpleasant it will be, doubtless; the whole affair has not been apleasant one for anybody concerned in it, Signor Marchese--for any onein Ravenna, I may say. But you may depend upon it that it will be thewish of the court and of everybody present to make it as little painfulto you as possible. And it is my very serious and very urgent advice toyou to make the necessary exertion, and not to express to any one eitherthe intention or the wish to absent yourself."

  And then the lawyer took his leave--not surprised that the Marchese,broken down and in the state in which he saw him, should feel it verydisagreeable to face his fellow citizens on the occasion of the trial;but, perhaps, having some other thoughts in his mind besides those heexpressed as to the ill effect likely to be produced by any refusal ofthe Marchese to make his appearance in the court.