XVIII
And so my life went on for a little while, filled with pleasure andamusement. I was contented with my lot, and had no wish for change. Thetime went by, and we reached the first week in April. Girolamo hadorganised a great ball to celebrate the completion of his Palace. He hadstarted living in it as soon as there were walls and roof, but he hadspent years on the decorations, taking into his service the best artistshe could find in Italy; and now at last everything was finished. TheOrsi had been invited with peculiar cordiality, and on the night webetook ourselves to the Palace.
We walked up the stately staircase, a masterpiece of architecture, andfound ourselves in the enormous hall which Girolamo had designedespecially for gorgeous functions. It was ablaze with light. At thefurther end, on a low stage, led up to by three broad steps, under adais, on high-backed, golden chairs, sat Girolamo and Caterina Sforza.Behind them, in a semicircle, and on the steps at each side, were theladies of Caterina's suite, and a number of gentlemen; at the back,standing like statues, a row of men-at-arms.
'It is almost regal!' said Checco, pursing up his lips.
'It is not so poor a thing to be the Lord of Forli,' answered Matteo.Fuel to the fire!
We approached, and Girolamo, as he saw us, rose and came down the steps.
'Hail, my Checco!' he said, taking both his hands. 'Till you had comethe assembly was not complete.'
Matteo and I went to the Countess. She had surpassed herself this night.Her dress was of cloth of silver, shimmering and sparkling. In her hairwere diamonds shining like fireflies in the night; her arms, her neck,her fingers glittered with costly gems. I had never seen her look sobeautiful, nor so magnificent. Let them say what they liked, Checco andMatteo and the rest of them, but she was born to be a queen. How strangethat this offspring of the rough Condottiere and the lewd woman shouldhave a majesty such as one imagines of a mighty empress descended fromcountless kings.
She took the trouble to be particularly gracious to us. Me shecomplimented on some verses she had seen, and was very flattering inreference to a pastoral play which I had arranged. She could notcongratulate my good Matteo on any intellectual achievements, but thefame of his amours gave her a subject on which she could playfullyreproach him. She demanded details, and I left her listening intently tosome history which Matteo was whispering in her ear; and I knew he wasnot particular in what he said.
I felt in peculiarly high spirits, and I looked about for someone onwhom to vent my good humour. I caught sight of Giulia. I had seen heronce or twice since my return to Forli, but had never spoken to her. NowI felt sure of myself; I knew I did not care two straws for her, but Ithought it would please me to have a little revenge. I looked at her amoment. I made up my mind; I went to her and bowed most ceremoniously.
'Donna Giulia, behold the moth!' I had used the simile before, but notto her, so it did not matter.
She looked at me undecidedly, not quite knowing how to take me.
'May I offer you my arm,' I said as blandly as I could.
She smiled a little awkwardly and took it.
'How beautiful the Countess is to-night!' I said. 'Everyone will fall inlove with her.' I knew she hated Caterina, a sentiment which the greatlady returned with vigour. 'I would not dare say it to another; but Iknow you are never jealous: she is indeed like the moon among thestars.'
'The idea does not seem too new,' she said coldly.
'It is all the more comprehensible. I am thinking of writing a sonnet onthe theme.'
'I imagined it had been done before; but the ladies of Forli willdoubtless be grateful to you.'
She was getting cross; and I knew by experience that when she was crossshe always wanted to cry.
'I am afraid you are angry with me,' I said.
'No, it is you who are angry with me,' she answered rather tearfully.
'I? Why should you think that?'
'You have not forgiven me for--'
I wondered whether the conscientious Giorgio had had another attack ofmorality and ridden off into the country.
'My dear lady,' I said, with a little laugh, 'I assure you that I haveforgiven you entirely. After all, it was not such a very seriousmatter.'
'No?' She looked at me with a little surprise.
I shrugged my shoulders.
'You were quite right in what you did. Those things have to finish sometime or other, and it really does not so much matter when.'
'I was afraid I had hurt you,' she said in a low voice.
The scene came to my mind; the dimly-lit room, the delicate form lyingon the couch, cold and indifferent, while I was given over to an agonyof despair. I remembered the glitter of the jewelled ring against thewhite hand. I would have no mercy.
'My dear Giulia--you will allow me to call you Giulia?'
She nodded.
'My dear Giulia, I was a little unhappy at first, I acknowledge, but onegets over those things so quickly--a bottle of wine, and a good sleep:they are like bleeding to a fever.'
'You were unhappy?'
'Naturally; one is always rather put out when one is dismissed. Onewould prefer to have done the breaking oneself.'
'It was a matter of pride?'
'I am afraid I must confess to it.'
'I did not think so at the time.'
I laughed.
'Oh, that is my excited way of putting things. I frightened you; but itdid not really mean anything.'
She did not answer. After a while I said,--
'You know, when one is young one should make the most of one's time.Fidelity is a stupid virtue, unphilosophical and extremelyunfashionable.'
'What do you mean?'
'Simply this; you did not particularly love me, and I did notparticularly love you.'
'Oh!'
'We had a passing fancy for one another, and that satisfied there wasnothing more to keep us together. We should have been very foolish notto break the chain; if you had not done so, I should have. With yourwoman's intuition, you saw that and forestalled me!'
Again she did not answer.
'Of course, if you had been in love with me, or I with you, it wouldhave been different. But as it was--'
'I see my cousin Violante in the corner there; will you lead me to her?'
I did as she asked, and as she was bowing me my dismissal I said,--
'We have had a very pleasant talk, and we are quite good friends, are wenot?'
'Quite!' she said.
I drew a long breath as I left her. I hoped I had hurt; I hoped I hadhumiliated her. I wished I could have thought of things to say thatwould have cut her to the heart. I was quite indifferent to her, butwhen I remembered--I hated her.
I knew everyone in Forli by now, and as I turned away from Giulia I hadno lack of friends with whom to talk. The rooms became more crowdedevery moment. The assembly was the most brilliant that Forli had everseen; and as the evening wore on the people became more animated; ababel of talk drowned the music, and the chief topic of conversation wasthe wonderful beauty of Caterina. She was bubbling over with highspirits; no one knew what had happened to make her so joyful, for oflate she had suffered a little from the unpopularity of her husband, anda sullen look of anger had replaced the old smiles and graces. Butto-night she was herself again. Men were standing round talking to her,and one heard a shout of laughter from them as every now and then shemade some witty repartee; and her conversation gained another charm froma sort of soldierly bluntness which people remembered in FrancescoSforza, and which she had inherited. People also spoke of the cordialityof Girolamo towards our Checco; he walked up and down the room with him,arm in arm, talking affectionately; it reminded the onlookers of thetime when they had been as brothers together. Caterina occasionally gavethem a glance and a little smile of approval; she was evidently wellpleased with the reconciliation.
I was making my way through the crowd, watching the various people,giving a word here and there or a nod, and I thought that life wasreally a very amusing thing. I felt might
ily pleased with myself, and Iwondered where my good friend Claudia was; I must go and pay her myrespects.
'Filippo!'
I turned and saw Scipione Moratini standing by his sister, with a numberof gentlemen and ladies, most of them known to me.
'Why are you smiling so contentedly?' he said. 'You look as if you hadlost a pebble and found a diamond in its place.'
'Perhaps I have; who knows?'
At that moment I saw Ercole Piacentini enter the room with his wife; Iwondered why they were so late. Claudia was at once seized upon by oneof her admirers, and, leaving her husband, sauntered off on theproffered arm. Ercole came up the room on his way to the Count. His grimvisage was contorted into an expression of amiability, which sat on himwith an ill grace.
'This is indeed a day of rejoicing,' I said; 'even the wicked ogre istrying to look pleasant.'
Giulia gave a little silvery laugh. I thought it forced.
'You have a forgiving spirit, dear friend,' she said, accenting the lastword in recollection of what I had said to her. 'A truly Christiandisposition!'
'Why?' I asked, smiling.
'I admire the way in which you have forgiven Ercole for the insults hehas offered you; one does not often find a gentleman who so charitablyturns his other cheek to the smiter!'
I laughed within myself; she was trying to be even with me. I was gladto see that my darts had taken good effect. Scipione interposed, forwhat his sister had said was sufficiently bitter.
'Nonsense, Giulia!' he said. 'You know Filippo is the last man toforgive his enemies until the breath is well out of their bodies; butcircumstances--'
Giulia pursed up her lips into an expression of contempt.
'Circumstances. I was surprised, because I remembered the vigour withwhich Messer Filippo had vowed to revenge himself.'
'Oh, but Messer Filippo considers that he has revenged himself veryeffectively,' I said.
'How?'
'There are more ways of satisfying one's honour than by cutting a holein a person's chest.'
'What do you mean, Filippo?' said Scipione.
'Did you not see as he passed?'
'Ercole? What?'
'Did you not see the adornment of his noble head, the elegant pair ofhorns?'
They looked at me, not quite understanding; then I caught sight ofClaudia, who was standing close to us.
'Ah, I see the diamond I have found in place of the pebble I have lost.I pray you excuse me.'
Then as they saw me walk towards Claudia they understood, and I heard aburst of laughter. I took my lady's hand, and bowing deeply, kissed itwith the greatest fervour. I glanced at Giulia from the corner of myeyes and saw her looking down on the ground, with a deep blush of angeron her face. My heart leapt for joy to think that I had returnedsomething of the agony she had caused me.
The evening grew late and the guests began to go. Checco, as he passedme, asked,--
'Are you ready?'
'Yes!' I said, accompanying him to Girolamo and the Countess to take ourleave.
'You are very unkind, Checco,' said the Countess. 'You have not comenear me the whole evening.'
'You have been so occupied,' he answered.
'But I am not now,' she replied, smiling.
'The moment I saw you free I came to you.'
'To say good-bye.'
'It is very late.'
'No, surely; sit down and talk to me.'
Checco did as he was bid, and I, seeing he meant to stay longer,sauntered off again in search of friends. The conversation betweenChecco and the Countess was rather hindered by the continualleave-takings, as the people began to go away rapidly, in groups. I satmyself down in a window with Matteo, and we began comparing notes of ourevening; he told me of a new love to whom he had discovered his passionfor the first time.
'Fair wind, foul wind?' I asked, laughing.
'She pretended to be very angry,' he said, 'but she allowed me to seethat if the worst came to the worst she would not permit me to break myheart.'
I looked out into the room and found that everyone had gone, exceptErcole Piacentini, who was talking to the Count in undertones.
'I am getting so sleepy,' said Matteo. We went forward to the Countess,who said, as she saw us come,--
'Go away, Matteo! I will not have you drag Checco away yet; we have beentrying to talk to one another for the last half-hour, and now that wehave the chance at last I refuse to be disturbed.'
'I would not for worlds rob Checco of such pleasure,' said Matteo;adding to me, as we retired to our window, 'What a nuisance having towait for one's cousin while a pretty woman is flirting with him!'
'You have me to talk to--what more can you want!'
'I don't want to talk to you at all,' he answered, laughing.
Girolamo was still with Ercole. His mobile eyes were moving over theroom, hardly ever resting on Ercole's face, but sometimes on us, moreoften on Checco. I wondered whether he was jealous.
At last Checco got up and said Good-night. Then Girolamo came forward.
'You are not going yet,' he said. 'I want to speak with you on thesubject of those taxes.'
It was the first time he had mentioned them.
'It is getting so late,' said Checco, 'and these good gentlemen aretired.'
'They can go home. Really, it is very urgent.'
Checco hesitated, and looked at us.
'We will wait for you,' said Matteo.
Girolamo's eyes moved about here and there, never resting a moment, fromChecco to me, from me to Matteo, and on to his wife, and then on again,with extraordinary rapidity--it was quite terrifying.
'One would think you were afraid of leaving Checco in our hands,' saidthe Countess, smiling.
'No,' returned Matteo; 'but I look forward to having some of yourattention now that Checco is otherwise occupied. Will you let melanguish?'
She laughed, and a rapid glance passed between her and the Count.
'I shall be only too pleased,' she said, 'come and sit by me, one oneach side.'
The Count turned to Ercole.
'Well, good-night, my friend,' he said. 'Good-night!'
Ercole left us, and Girolamo, taking Checco's arm, walked up and downthe room, speaking. The Countess and Matteo commenced a gayconversation. Although I was close to them I was left alone, and Iwatched the Count. His eyes fascinated me, moving ceaselessly. Whatcould be behind them? What could be the man's thoughts that his eyesshould never rest? They enveloped the person they looked at--his head,every feature of his face, his body, his clothes; one imagined there wasno detail they had not caught; it was as if they ate into the very soulof the man.
The two men tramped up and down, talking earnestly; I wondered what theywere saying. At last Girolamo stopped.
'Ah, well, I must have mercy on you; I shall tire you to death. And youknow I do not wish to do anything to harm you.'
Checco smiled.
'Whatever difficulty there has been between us, Checco, you know thatthere has never on my part been any ill-feeling towards you. I havealways had for you a very sincere and affectionate friendship.'
And as he said the words an extraordinary change came over him. Theeyes, the mobile eyes, stopped still at last; for the first time I sawthem perfectly steady, motionless, like glass; they looked fixedly intoChecco's eyes, without winking, and their immobility was as strange astheir perpetual movement, and to me it was more terrifying. It was as ifGirolamo was trying to see his own image in Checco's soul.
We bade them farewell, and together issued out into the silence of thenight; and I felt that behind us the motionless eyes, like glass, werefollowing us into the darkness.
The Making of a Saint Page 19
