CHAPTER III.
THE Gadfly took lodgings outside the Roman gate, near to which Zita wasboarding. He was evidently somewhat of a sybarite; and, though nothingin the rooms showed any serious extravagance, there was a tendency toluxuriousness in trifles and to a certain fastidious daintiness in thearrangement of everything which surprised Galli and Riccardo. Theyhad expected to find a man who had lived among the wildernesses of theAmazon more simple in his tastes, and wondered at his spotless ties androws of boots, and at the masses of flowers which always stood uponhis writing table. On the whole they got on very well with him. He washospitable and friendly to everyone, especially to the local membersof the Mazzinian party. To this rule Gemma, apparently, formed anexception; he seemed to have taken a dislike to her from the time oftheir first meeting, and in every way avoided her company. On two orthree occasions he was actually rude to her, thus bringing upon himselfMartini's most cordial detestation. There had been no love lost betweenthe two men from the beginning; their temperaments appeared to be tooincompatible for them to feel anything but repugnance for each other. OnMartini's part this was fast developing into hostility.
"I don't care about his not liking me," he said one day to Gemma withan aggrieved air. "I don't like him, for that matter; so there's no harmdone. But I can't stand the way he behaves to you. If it weren't for thescandal it would make in the party first to beg a man to come and thento quarrel with him, I should call him to account for it."
"Let him alone, Cesare; it isn't of any consequence, and after all, it'sas much my fault as his."
"What is your fault?"
"That he dislikes me so. I said a brutal thing to him when we first met,that night at the Grassinis'."
"YOU said a brutal thing? That's hard to believe, Madonna."
"It was unintentional, of course, and I was very sorry. I said somethingabout people laughing at cripples, and he took it personally. It hadnever occurred to me to think of him as a cripple; he is not so badlydeformed."
"Of course not. He has one shoulder higher than the other, and hisleft arm is pretty badly disabled, but he's neither hunchbacked norclubfooted. As for his lameness, it isn't worth talking about."
"Anyway, he shivered all over and changed colour. Of course it washorribly tactless of me, but it's odd he should be so sensitive. Iwonder if he has ever suffered from any cruel jokes of that kind."
"Much more likely to have perpetrated them, I should think. There's asort of internal brutality about that man, under all his fine manners,that is perfectly sickening to me."
"Now, Cesare, that's downright unfair. I don't like him any more thanyou do, but what is the use of making him out worse than he is? Hismanner is a little affected and irritating--I expect he has been toomuch lionized--and the everlasting smart speeches are dreadfully tiring;but I don't believe he means any harm."
"I don't know what he means, but there's something not clean about aman who sneers at everything. It fairly disgusted me the other day atFabrizi's debate to hear the way he cried down the reforms in Rome, justas if he wanted to find a foul motive for everything."
Gemma sighed. "I am afraid I agreed better with him than with you onthat point," she said. "All you good people are so full of the mostdelightful hopes and expectations; you are always ready to think thatif one well-meaning middle-aged gentleman happens to get elected Pope,everything else will come right of itself. He has only got to throw openthe prison doors and give his blessing to everybody all round, and wemay expect the millennium within three months. You never seem able tosee that he can't set things right even if he would. It's the principleof the thing that's wrong, not the behaviour of this man or that."
"What principle? The temporal power of the Pope?"
"Why that in particular? That's merely a part of the general wrong. Thebad principle is that any man should hold over another the power to bindand loose. It's a false relationship to stand in towards one's fellows."
Martini held up his hands. "That will do, Madonna," he said, laughing."I am not going to discuss with you, once you begin talking rankAntinomianism in that fashion. I'm sure your ancestors must have beenEnglish Levellers in the seventeenth century. Besides, what I came roundabout is this MS."
He pulled it out of his pocket.
"Another new pamphlet?"
"A stupid thing this wretched man Rivarez sent in to yesterday'scommittee. I knew we should come to loggerheads with him before long."
"What is the matter with it? Honestly, Cesare, I think you are a littleprejudiced. Rivarez may be unpleasant, but he's not stupid."
"Oh, I don't deny that this is clever enough in its way; but you hadbetter read the thing yourself."
The pamphlet was a skit on the wild enthusiasm over the new Pope withwhich Italy was still ringing. Like all the Gadfly's writing, it wasbitter and vindictive; but, notwithstanding her irritation at thestyle, Gemma could not help recognizing in her heart the justice of thecriticism.
"I quite agree with you that it is detestably malicious," she said,laying down the manuscript. "But the worst thing about it is that it'sall true."
"Gemma!"
"Yes, but it is. The man's a cold-blooded eel, if you like; but he'sgot the truth on his side. There is no use in our trying to persuadeourselves that this doesn't hit the mark--it does!"
"Then do you suggest that we should print it?"
"Ah! that's quite another matter. I certainly don't think we ought toprint it as it stands; it would hurt and alienate everybody and do nogood. But if he would rewrite it and cut out the personal attacks,I think it might be made into a really valuable piece of work. Aspolitical criticism it is very fine. I had no idea he could write sowell. He says things which need saying and which none of us have hadthe courage to say. This passage, where he compares Italy to a tipsyman weeping with tenderness on the neck of the thief who is picking hispocket, is splendidly written."
"Gemma! The very worst bit in the whole thing! I hate that ill-naturedyelping at everything and everybody!"
"So do I; but that's not the point. Rivarez has a very disagreeablestyle, and as a human being he is not attractive; but when he says thatwe have made ourselves drunk with processions and embracing and shoutingabout love and reconciliation, and that the Jesuits and Sanfedists arethe people who will profit by it all, he's right a thousand times. Iwish I could have been at the committee yesterday. What decision did youfinally arrive at?"
"What I have come here about: to ask you to go and talk it over with himand persuade him to soften the thing."
"Me? But I hardly know the man; and besides that, he detests me. Whyshould I go, of all people?"
"Simply because there's no one else to do it to-day. Besides, youare more reasonable than the rest of us, and won't get into uselessarguments and quarrel with him, as we should."
"I shan't do that, certainly. Well, I will go if you like, though I havenot much hope of success."
"I am sure you will be able to manage him if you try. Yes, and tell himthat the committee all admired the thing from a literary point of view.That will put him into a good humour, and it's perfectly true, too."
*****
The Gadfly was sitting beside a table covered with flowers and ferns,staring absently at the floor, with an open letter on his knee. A shaggycollie dog, lying on a rug at his feet, raised its head and growled asGemma knocked at the open door, and the Gadfly rose hastily and bowedin a stiff, ceremonious way. His face had suddenly grown hard andexpressionless.
"You are too kind," he said in his most chilling manner. "If you had letme know that you wanted to speak to me I would have called on you."
Seeing that he evidently wished her at the end of the earth, Gemmahastened to state her business. He bowed again and placed a chair forher.
"The committee wished me to call upon you," she began, "because therehas been a certain difference of opinion about your pamphlet."
"So I expected." He smiled and sat down opposite to her, drawing a largevase of chrysanthemum
s between his face and the light.
"Most of the members agreed that, however much they may admire thepamphlet as a literary composition, they do not think that in itspresent form it is quite suitable for publication. They fear that thevehemence of its tone may give offence, and alienate persons whose helpand support are valuable to the party."
He pulled a chrysanthemum from the vase and began slowly pluckingoff one white petal after another. As her eyes happened to catch themovement of the slim right hand dropping the petals, one by one, anuncomfortable sensation came over Gemma, as though she had somewhereseen that gesture before.
"As a literary composition," he remarked in his soft, cold voice, "it isutterly worthless, and could be admired only by persons who know nothingabout literature. As for its giving offence, that is the very thing Iintended it to do."
"That I quite understand. The question is whether you may not succeed ingiving offence to the wrong people."
He shrugged his shoulders and put a torn-off petal between his teeth. "Ithink you are mistaken," he said. "The question is: For what purposedid your committee invite me to come here? I understood, to expose andridicule the Jesuits. I fulfil my obligation to the best of my ability."
"And I can assure you that no one has any doubt as to either the abilityor the good-will. What the committee fears is that the liberal party maytake offence, and also that the town workmen may withdraw theirmoral support. You may have meant the pamphlet for an attack upon theSanfedists: but many readers will construe it as an attack upon theChurch and the new Pope; and this, as a matter of political tactics, thecommittee does not consider desirable."
"I begin to understand. So long as I keep to the particular set ofclerical gentlemen with whom the party is just now on bad terms, Imay speak sooth if the fancy takes me; but directly I touch upon thecommittee's own pet priests--'truth's a dog must to kennel; he must bewhipped out, when the--Holy Father may stand by the fire and-----' Yes,the fool was right; I'd rather be any kind of a thing than a fool. Ofcourse I must bow to the committee's decision, but I continue tothink that it has pared its wit o' both sides and left--M-mon-signorM-m-montan-n-nelli in the middle."
"Montanelli?" Gemma repeated. "I don't understand you. Do you mean theBishop of Brisighella?"
"Yes; the new Pope has just created him a Cardinal, you know. I have aletter about him here. Would you care to hear it? The writer is a friendof mine on the other side of the frontier."
"The Papal frontier?"
"Yes. This is what he writes----" He took up the letter which had beenin his hand when she entered, and read aloud, suddenly beginning tostammer violently:
"'Y-o-you will s-s-s-soon have the p-pleasure of m-m-meeting one of ourw-w-worst enemies, C-cardinal Lorenzo M-montan-n-nelli, the B-b-bishopof Brisig-g-hella. He int-t----'"
He broke off, paused a moment, and began again, very slowly and drawlinginsufferably, but no longer stammering:
"'He intends to visit Tuscany during the coming month on a mission ofreconciliation. He will preach first in Florence, where he will stay forabout three weeks; then will go on to Siena and Pisa, and return to theRomagna by Pistoja. He ostensibly belongs to the liberal party in theChurch, and is a personal friend of the Pope and Cardinal Feretti. UnderGregory he was out of favour, and was kept out of sight in a littlehole in the Apennines. Now he has come suddenly to the front. Really,of course, he is as much pulled by Jesuit wires as any Sanfedist in thecountry. This mission was suggested by some of the Jesuit fathers. He isone of the most brilliant preachers in the Church, and as mischievousin his way as Lambruschini himself. His business is to keep the popularenthusiasm over the Pope from subsiding, and to occupy the publicattention until the Grand Duke has signed a project which the agents ofthe Jesuits are preparing to lay before him. What this project is I havebeen unable to discover.' Then, further on, it says: 'Whether Montanelliunderstands for what purpose he is being sent to Tuscany, or whetherthe Jesuits are playing on him, I cannot make out. He is either anuncommonly clever knave, or the biggest ass that was ever foaled. Theodd thing is that, so far as I can discover, he neither takes bribes norkeeps mistresses--the first time I ever came across such a thing.'"
He laid down the letter and sat looking at her with half-shut eyes,waiting, apparently, for her to speak.
"Are you satisfied that your informant is correct in his facts?" sheasked after a moment.
"As to the irreproachable character of Monsignor M-mon-t-tan-nelli'sprivate life? No; but neither is he. As you will observe, he puts in thes-s-saving clause: 'So far as I c-can discover----
"I was not speaking of that," she interposed coldly, "but of the partabout this mission."
"I can fully trust the writer. He is an old friend of mine--one of mycomrades of '43, and he is in a position which gives him exceptionalopportunities for finding out things of that kind."
"Some official at the Vatican," thought Gemma quickly. "So that's thekind of connections you have? I guessed there was something of thatsort."
"This letter is, of course, a private one," the Gadfly went on; "and youunderstand that the information is to be kept strictly to the members ofyour committee."
"That hardly needs saying. Then about the pamphlet: may I tell thecommittee that you consent to make a few alterations and soften it alittle, or that----"
"Don't you think the alterations may succeed in spoiling the beautyof the 'literary composition,' signora, as well as in reducing thevehemence of the tone?"
"You are asking my personal opinion. What I have come here to express isthat of the committee as a whole."
"Does that imply that y-y-you disagree with the committee as a whole?"He had put the letter into his pocket and was now leaning forwardand looking at her with an eager, concentrated expression which quitechanged the character of his face. "You think----"
"If you care to know what I personally think--I disagree with themajority on both points. I do not at all admire the pamphlet from aliterary point of view, and I do think it true as a presentation offacts and wise as a matter of tactics."
"That is------"
"I quite agree with you that Italy is being led away by awill-o'-the-wisp and that all this enthusiasm and rejoicing willprobably land her in a terrible bog; and I should be most heartily gladto have that openly and boldly said, even at the cost of offending oralienating some of our present supporters. But as a member of a body thelarge majority of which holds the opposite view, I cannot insist upon mypersonal opinion; and I certainly think that if things of that kind areto be said at all, they should be said temperately and quietly; not inthe tone adopted in this pamphlet."
"Will you wait a minute while I look through the manuscript?"
He took it up and glanced down the pages. A dissatisfied frown settledon his face.
"Yes, of course, you are perfectly right. The thing's written like acafe chantant skit, not a political satire. But what's a man to do? IfI write decently the public won't understand it; they will say it's dullif it isn't spiteful enough."
"Don't you think spitefulness manages to be dull when we get too much ofit?"
He threw a keen, rapid glance at her, and burst out laughing.
"Apparently the signora belongs to the dreadful category of people whoare always right! Then if I yield to the temptation to be spiteful,I may come in time to be as dull as Signora Grassini? Heavens, what afate! No, you needn't frown. I know you don't like me, and I am going tokeep to business. What it comes to, then, is practically this: if I cutout the personalities and leave the essential part of the thing asit is, the committee will very much regret that they can't take theresponsibility of printing it. If I cut out the political truth andmake all the hard names apply to no one but the party's enemies, thecommittee will praise the thing up to the skies, and you and I will knowit's not worth printing. Rather a nice point of metaphysics: Which isthe more desirable condition, to be printed and not be worth it, or tobe worth it and not be printed? Well, signora?"
"I do not think yo
u are tied to any such alternative. I believe thatif you were to cut out the personalities the committee would consent toprint the pamphlet, though the majority would, of course, not agree withit; and I am convinced that it would be very useful. But you wouldhave to lay aside the spitefulness. If you are going to say a thing thesubstance of which is a big pill for your readers to swallow, there isno use in frightening them at the beginning by the form."
He sighed and shrugged his shoulders resignedly. "I submit, signora; buton one condition. If you rob me of my laugh now, I must have it outnext time. When His Eminence, the irreproachable Cardinal, turns upin Florence, neither you nor your committee must object to my being asspiteful as I like. It's my due!"
He spoke in his lightest, coldest manner, pulling the chrysanthemumsout of their vase and holding them up to watch the light through thetranslucent petals. "What an unsteady hand he has," she thought, seeinghow the flowers shook and quivered. "Surely he doesn't drink!"
"You had better discuss the matter with the other members of thecommittee," she said, rising. "I cannot form any opinion as to what theywill think about it."
"And you?" He had risen too, and was leaning against the table, pressingthe flowers to his face.
She hesitated. The question distressed her, bringing up old andmiserable associations. "I--hardly know," she said at last. "Many yearsago I used to know something about Monsignor Montanelli. He was onlya canon at that time, and Director of the theological seminary inthe province where I lived as a girl. I heard a great deal about himfrom--someone who knew him very intimately; and I never heard anythingof him that was not good. I believe that, in those days at least, hewas really a most remarkable man. But that was long ago, and he may havechanged. Irresponsible power corrupts so many people."
The Gadfly raised his head from the flowers, and looked at her with asteady face.
"At any rate," he said, "if Monsignor Montanelli is not himself ascoundrel, he is a tool in scoundrelly hands. It is all one to me whichhe is--and to my friends across the frontier. A stone in the path mayhave the best intentions, but it must be kicked out of the path, for allthat. Allow me, signora!" He rang the bell, and, limping to the door,opened it for her to pass out.
"It was very kind of you to call, signora. May I send for a vettura? No?Good-afternoon, then! Bianca, open the hall-door, please."
Gemma went out into the street, pondering anxiously. "My friends acrossthe frontier"--who were they? And how was the stone to be kicked out ofthe path? If with satire only, why had he said it with such dangerouseyes?
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