Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  ‘And you know how he has served me,’ said Checco. ‘I have lent him so much that he has not the face to ask for more; and how do you think he has rewarded me? Because I have not paid certain dues I owe the Treasury, he sent a sheriff to demand them, and when I said I would not pay them at that moment, he sent for me, and himself asked for the money.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I reminded him of the money he owed me, and he informed me that a private debt had nothing to do with a debt to the State, and said that I must pay or the law should take its course.’

  ‘He must be mad,’ said Matteo.

  ‘He is mad, mad with pride, mad in his extravagance.’

  ‘I tell you,’ said Lodovico, ‘it cannot be endured.’

  ‘And they tell me that he has said my tongue must be silenced,’ added Checco. ‘The other day he was talking to Giuseppe Albicina, and he said “Let Checco beware; he may go too far and find the hand of the master not so gentle as the hand of the friend!”’

  ‘I, too, have heard him say things which sounded like threats,’ said Alessandro.

  ‘We have all heard it,’ added Lodovico. ‘When his temper overcomes him, he cares not what he says, and one discovers then what he and his silent wife have been plotting between them.’

  ‘Now, sir,’ interrupted Checco, speaking to me, ‘you see how things stand: we are on thin ground, and the fire is raging beneath us. You must promise not to seek further quarrel with this countryman of yours, this Ercole Piacentini. He is one of Girolamo’s chiefest favourites, and he would not bear to see him touched; if you happened to kill him, the Count would take the opportunity to have us all arrested, and we should suffer the fate of the Pazzi at Florence. Will you promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ I answered, smiling, ‘to defer my satisfaction to a fitter opportunity.’

  ‘Now, gentlemen,’ said Checco, ‘we can separate.’

  We bade one another Good-night; Alessandro, as he was going, said to Matteo, ‘You must bring your friend to my sister to-morrow; she will be glad to see you both.’

  We said we should be enchanted, and Alessandro and Lodovico Pansecchi left us.

  Matteo looked at Checco meditatively.

  ‘Cousin,’ he said, ‘all this looks very like conspiracy.’

  Checco started.

  ‘I cannot help it, if the people are dissatisfied with Girolamo.’

  ‘But you?’ pursued Matteo. ‘I imagine you do not greatly care whether the people are taxed or no. You knew the taxes would have to come on again sooner or later.’

  ‘Has he not insulted me by sending a sheriff to demand his dues?’

  ‘Is there nothing further than that?’ asked Matteo, looking at his cousin steadily.

  Checco lifted his eyes and gazed back into Matteo’s.

  ‘Yes,’ he said at last; ‘eight years ago I was Girolamo’s equal, now I am his servant. I was his friend, he loved me like a brother — and then his wife came, the daughter of Francesco Sforza, the bastard — and gradually he has lifted himself up from me. He has been cold and reserved; he begins to show himself master; and now I am nothing more than a citizen among citizens — the first, but not the equal of the master.’

  Checco kept silence for a moment, and in his quietness I could see the violence of his emotion.

  ‘This concerns you as well as me, Matteo. You are an Orsi, and the Orsi are not made to be servants. I will be no man’s servant. When I think of this man — this bastard of a pope — treating me as beneath him, by God! I cannot breathe. I could roll on the floor and tear my hair with rage. Do you know that the Orsi have been great and rich for three hundred years? The Medici pale before them, for they are burghers and we have been always noble. We expelled the Ordelaffi because they wished to give us a bastard boy to rule over us, and shall we accept this Riario? I swear I will not endure it.’

  ‘Well said!’ said Matteo.

  ‘Girolamo shall go as the Ordelaffi went. By God! I swear it.’

  I looked at Matteo, and I saw that suddenly a passion had caught hold of him; his face was red, his eyes staring wide, and his voice was hoarse and thick.

  ‘But do not mistake again, Checco,’ he said; ‘we want no foreign rulers. The Orsi must be the only Lords of Forli.’

  Checco and Matteo stood looking at one another; then the former, shaking himself as if to regain his calmness, turned his back on us and left the room. Matteo strode up and down for a while in thought, and then, turning to me, said, ‘Come.’

  We went out and returned to our hostelry.

  IV

  NEXT day we went to Donna Giulia’s.

  ‘Who is she?’ I asked Matteo, as we walked along.

  ‘A widow!’ he answered shortly.

  ‘Further?’ I asked.

  ‘The scandal of Forli!’

  ‘Most interesting; but how has she gained her reputation?’

  ‘How do I know?’ he answered, laughing; ‘how do women usually gain their reputations? She drove Giovanni dall’ Aste into his grave; her rivals say she poisoned him — but that is a cheerful libel, probably due to Claudia Piacentini.’

  ‘How long has she been a widow?’

  ‘Five or six years.’

  ‘And how has she lived since then?’

  Matteo shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘As widows usually live!’ he answered. ‘For my part, I really cannot see what inducement a woman in that position has to be virtuous. After all, one is only young once, and had better make the best use of one’s youth while it lasts.’

  ‘But has she no relations?’

  ‘Certainly; she has a father and two brothers. But they hear nothing or care nothing. Besides, it may be only scandal after all.’

  ‘You talked as if it were a fact,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, no; I only say that if it is not a fact she is a very foolish woman. Now that she has a bad reputation, it would be idiotic not to live up to it.’

  ‘You speak with some feeling,’ I remarked, laughing.

  ‘Ah,’ answered Matteo, with another shrug of the shoulders, ‘I laid siege to the fort of her virtue — and she sallied and retired, and mined and countermined, advanced and drew back, so that I grew weary and abandoned the attack. Life is not long enough to spend six months in politeness and flattery, and then not be sure of the reward at the end.’

  ‘You have a practical way of looking at things.’

  ‘With me, you know, one woman is very like another. It comes to the same in the end; and after one has kicked about the world for a few years, one arrives at the conclusion that it it does not much matter if they be dark or fair, fat or thin....’

  ‘Did you tell all this to Donna Giulia?’ I asked.

  ‘More or less.’

  ‘What did she think of it?’

  ‘She was cross for a while. She wished she had yielded sooner, when it was too late; it served her right!’

  We had arrived at the house, and were ushered in. Donna Giulia greeted us very politely, gave me a glance, and began talking again to her friends. One could see that the men round her were more or less in love, for they followed every motion with their eyes, disputing her smiles, which she scattered in profusion, now upon one, now upon another.... I saw she delighted in adulation, for the maker of any neat compliment was always rewarded with a softer look and a more charming smile.

  Matteo surpassed the others in the outrageousness of his flattery; I thought she must see that he was laughing at her, but she accepted everything he said quite seriously, and was evidently much pleased.

  ‘Are you not glad to be back in Forli?’ she said to him.

  ‘We all delight to tread the ground you walk on.’

  ‘You have grown very polite during your absence.’

  ‘What other result could have been, when I spent my time thinking of the lovely Giulia.’

  ‘I am afraid you had other thoughts in Naples: they say that there the women are all beautiful.’

  ‘Naples
! My dear lady, I swear that during all the time I have been away I have never seen a face to compare with yours.’

  Her eyes quite shone with pleasure. I turned away, finding the conversation silly. I thought I would do without the pleasant looks of Madonna Giulia, and I decided not to come to her again. Meanwhile, I began talking to one of the other ladies in the room and passed the time agreeably enough.... In a little while Giulia passed me, leaning on the arm of one of her admirers. I saw her glance at me, but I took no notice. Immediately afterwards she came again, hesitating a moment, as if she wished to say something, but passed on without speaking. I thought she was piqued at my inattention to her, and, with a smile, redoubled my attentions to the lady with whom I was talking.

  ‘Messer Filippo!’ Donna Giulia called me, ‘if you are not too engaged, will you speak to me for one moment?’

  I approached her smiling.

  ‘I am anxious to hear of your quarrel with Ercole Piacentini. I have heard quite ten different stories.’

  ‘I am surprised that the insolence of an ill-bred fellow should rouse such interest.’

  ‘We must talk of something in Forli. The only thing I hear for certain is that he insulted you, and you were prevented from getting satisfaction.’

  ‘That will come later.’

  She lowered her voice and took my arm.

  ‘But my brother tells me that Checco d’Orsi has made you promise to do nothing.’

  ‘I shall get my revenge — having to wait for it will only make it sweeter.’

  Then, supposing she had nothing further to say to me, I stood still, as if expecting her to leave me. She looked up suddenly.

  ‘Am I incommoding you?’ she said.

  ‘How could you!’ I replied gallantly.

  ‘I thought you wanted to get rid of me.’

  ‘How can such an idea have entered your head? Do you not see that all men lie humble at your feet, attentive to every word and gesture?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered, ‘but not you!’

  Of course I protested.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I saw very well that you avoided me. When you came in here — you hardly came near me.’

  ‘I did not think you would notice my inattention.’

  ‘Certainly I noticed it; I was afraid I had offended you. I could not think how.’

  ‘My dear lady, you have certainly done nothing to offend me.’

  ‘Then, why do you avoid me?’ she asked petulantly.

  ‘Really,’ I said, ‘I don’t. Perhaps in my modesty I thought it would be a matter of indifference to you whether I was at your side or not. I am sorry I have annoyed you.’

  ‘I don’t like people not to like me,’ she said in a plaintive way.

  ‘But why should you think I do not like you? Indeed, without flattery, I can assure you that I think you one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen.’

  A faint blush came over her cheeks, and a smile broke out on her lips; she looked up at me with a pretty reproachful air.

  ‘Then, why don’t you let me see it more plainly?’

  I smiled, and, looking into her eyes, was struck by their velvet softness. I almost thought she was as charming as she was beautiful.

  ‘Do you really wish to know?’ I said, in reply to her question.

  ‘Do tell me!’ she said, faintly pressing my arm.

  ‘I thought you had so many admirers that you could well do without me.’

  ‘But, you see,’ she answered charmingly, ‘I cannot!’

  ‘And then I have a certain dislike to losing myself in a crowd. I did not wish to share your smiles with twenty others.’

  ‘And would you for that refuse them altogether?’

  ‘I have always avoided the woman who is the object of general admiration. I think I am too proud to struggle for favours; I would rather dispense with them.’

  ‘But, then, supposing the lady wishes to favour you especially, you do not give her the opportunity.’

  ‘That is so rare,’ I replied, ‘that it is not worth while breaking the rule.’

  ‘But it may happen.’

  I shrugged my shoulders. She paused a moment, and then said, —

  ‘You do like me, then, after all?’

  I saw a slight trembling of the lip, perhaps the eyes were a little moist. I felt sorry for what I had done.

  ‘I fear I have given you pain,’ I said.

  ‘You have a little,’ she replied.

  ‘I am sorry. I thought you did not care.’

  ‘I like people to love me and be pleased with me.’

  ‘I do both!’

  ‘Then you must show it,’ she replied, a smile breaking through the beginning of tears.

  I really had been brutal, and I was very sorry that I had caused a cloud to gather over her sunshiny nature. She was indeed very sweet and charming.

  ‘Well, we are good friends now, aren’t we?’ she said.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And you’ll come and see me often?’

  ‘As often as you will allow me to,’ I answered. She gave me her hand to kiss, and a bright, happy smile lit up her face.

  ‘A rivederci!’ she said.

  We went home, and Matteo found waiting for him a message from Checco, bidding him leave the inn and take up his quarters with me at the Palazzo Orsi. On arriving, we found Checco excitedly walking up and down a long corridor lined with statues and pictures.

  ‘I am glad you have come,’ he said to Matteo, taking his hand and nodding. ‘You must stay here; we must all keep together now, for anything may happen.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Matteo.

  ‘The catastrophe nearly came to-day.’

  We both looked at him with astonishment, not comprehending. Checco stood still abruptly.

  ‘He tried to arrest me to-day — Girolamo!’ Then, speaking very quickly, as if labouring under great excitement, ‘I had to go to the Palace on business. I found him in the audience chamber, and we began to talk certain matters over, and I grew rather heated. Suddenly I noticed that the place had emptied itself. I stopped in the midst of my sentence and looked up at Girolamo. I saw he was not attending to me; his eyes were fixed on the door.’

  Checco was silent, and drops of perspiration were standing on his forehead.

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ we both said eagerly.

  ‘The door opened, and the Master of the Guard walked in. “By God!” I thought, “I’m trapped!” “I have been waiting for you, Andrea,” said Girolamo. Then he turned to me, and said, “Come into the Room of the Nymphs, Checco. I have some papers there to show you.” He took hold of my arm. I loosed myself. “I pray you, excuse me,” I said, “I have some very urgent business.” I walked to the door. Andrea glanced at his master, and I thought he was going to bar my way; I think he was waiting for some sign, but before it came I had seen through the open door Paolo Bruni, and I called out, “Paolo, Paolo, wait for me. I want to talk to you urgently.” Then I knew I was safe; he dared not touch me; and I turned round and said again, “I pray you, excuse me; my business with Paolo is a matter of life or death.” I brushed past Andrea and got out. By Heaven! how I breathed when I found myself in the piazza!’

  ‘But are you sure he meant to arrest you?’ said Matteo.

  ‘Certain; what else?’

  ‘Andrea might have come in by accident. There may have been nothing in it at all.’

  ‘I was not deceived,’ answered Checco, earnestly. ‘Their looks betrayed them — Andrea’s questioning glance. I know he wants to kill me.’

  ‘But would he dare seize you in cold blood?’

  ‘He cares for nothing when he has an object in view. Besides, when he had me in his power, what could have been done? I know Girolamo too well. There would have been a mock trial, and I should have been condemned. Or else he would have me strangled in my cell, and when I had gone you would have been helpless — my father is too old, and there would have been no leader to the party but you — and what co
uld you do alone?’

  We all remained silent for a while, then Checco broke out.

  ‘I know he wants to rid himself of me. He has threatened before, but has never gone so far as this.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ said Matteo; ‘things are becoming grave.’

  ‘It is not so much for myself I care; but what would happen to my children? My father is safe — he is so old and helpless that they would never think of touching him — but my boys? Caterina would throw them into prison without a scruple.’

  ‘Well,’ said Matteo, ‘what will you do?’

  ‘What can I do?’ he answered. ‘I have been racking my brains, and I see no way of safety. I can wear a coat of mail to preserve me from the stray knife of an assassin, but that will not help me against a troop of soldiers. I can leave Forli, but that is to abandon everything.’

  ‘No, you must not leave Forli — anything but that!’

  ‘What can I do? What can I do?’ he stamped his foot on the ground as if almost in desperation.

  ‘One thing,’ said Matteo, ‘you must not go about alone — always with at least two friends.’

  ‘Yes, I have thought of that. But how will it all turn out; it cannot last. What can I do?’

  He turned to me.

  ‘What do you think?’ he said. ‘He means to kill me.’

  ‘Why not anticipate him?’ I answered quietly.

  They both started up with a cry.

  ‘Kill him!’

  ‘Assassination! I dare not, I dare not,’ said Checco, very excitedly. ‘I will do all I can by fair means, but assassination—’

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘It seems a matter of self-preservation,’ I said.

  ‘No, no; I won’t speak of it! I won’t think of it.’ He began again to walk excitedly up and down the room. ‘I won’t think of it, I tell you. I could not.’

  Neither Matteo nor I spoke.

  ‘Why don’t you speak?’ he said to Matteo, impatiently.

  ‘I am thinking,’ he answered.

  ‘Not of that; I forbid you to think of that. I will not have it.’ Then, after a pause, abruptly, as if he were angry with us and with himself, ‘Leave me!’