CHAPTER XL
THROUGH THE WINTER
Weisspriess and Wilfrid made their way toward Milan together, silentlysmoking, after one attempt at conversation, which touched on Vittoria'smarriage; but when they reached Monza the officer slapped his degradedbrother in arms upon the shoulder, and asked him whether he had anyinclination to crave permission to serve in Hungary. For his own part,Weisspriess said that he should quit Italy at once; he had here toskewer the poor devils, one or two weekly, or to play the mightilygenerous; in short, to do things unsoldierly; and he was desirous ofgetting away from the country. General Schoneck was at Monza, and mightarrange the matter for them both. Promotion was to be looked for inHungary; the application would please the General; one battle wouldrestore the lieutenant's star to Wilfrid's collar. Wilfrid, who had beenoffended by his companion's previous brooding silence, nodded briefly,and they stopped at Monza, where they saw General Schoneck in themorning, and Wilfrid being by extraordinary favour in civilian's dressduring his leave of absence, they were jointly invited to the General'stable at noon, though not to meet any other officer. General Schoneckagreed with Weisspriess that Hungary would be a better field forWilfrid; said he would do his utmost to serve them in the manner theywished, and dismissed them after the second cigar. They strolled aboutthe city, glad for reasons of their own to be out of Milan as long asthe leave permitted. At night, when they were passing a palace in oneof the dark streets, a feather, accompanied by a sharp sibilation fromabove, dropped on Wilfrid's face. Weisspriess held the feather up, andjudged by its length that it was an eagle's, and therefore belonging tothe Hungarian Hussar regiment stationed in Milan. "The bird's aloft," heremarked. His voice aroused a noise of feet that was instantly still.He sent a glance at the doorways, where he thought he discerned men.Fetching a whistle in with his breath, he unsheathed his sword, andseeing that Wilfrid had no weapon, he pushed him to a gate of thepalace-court that had just cautiously turned a hinge. Wilfrid found hishand taken by a woman's hand inside. The gate closed behind him. He wasled up to an apartment where, by the light of a darkly-veiled lamp,he beheld a young Hungarian officer and a lady clinging to his neck,praying him not to go forth. Her Italian speech revealed how mattersstood in this house. The officer accosted Wilfrid: "But you are not oneof us!" He repeated it to the lady: "You see, the man is not one of us!"
She assured him that she had seen the uniform when she dropped thefeather, and wept protesting it.
"Louis, Louis! why did you come to-night! why did I make you come! Youwill be slain. I had my warning, but I was mad."
The officer hushed her with a quick squeeze of her inter-twistedfingers.
"Are you the man to take a sword and be at my back, sir?" he said;and resumed in a manner less contemptuous toward the civil costume: "Irequest it for the sole purpose of quieting this lady's fears."
Wilfrid explained who and what he was. On hearing that he was GeneralPierson's nephew the officer laughed cheerfully, and lifted the veilfrom the lamp, by which Wilfrid knew him to be Colonel Prince Radocky,a most gallant and the handsomest cavalier in the Imperial service.Radocky laughed again when he was told of Weisspriess keeping guardbelow.
"Aha! we are three, and can fight like a pyramid."
He flourished his hand above the lady's head, and called for a sword.The lady affected to search for one while he stalked up and down inthe jaunty fashion of a Magyar horseman; but the sword was not to bediscovered without his assistance, and he was led away in search of it.The moment he was alone Wilfrid burst into tears. He could bear anythingbetter than the sight of fondling lovers. When they rejoined him,Radocky had evidently yielded some point; he stammered and worked hisunderlip on his moustache. The lady undertook to speak for him. Happilyfor her, she said, Wilfrid would not compromise her; and taking herlover's hand, she added with Italian mixture of wit and grace: "Happilyfor me, too, he does. The house is surrounded by enemies; it is a reignof terror for women. I am dead, if they slay him; but if they recognizehim, I am lost."
Wilfrid readily leaped to her conclusion. He offered his opera-hat andcivil mantle to Radocky, who departed in them, leaving his militarycloak in exchange. During breathless seconds the lady hung kneeling atthe window. When the gate opened there was a noise as of feet preparingto rush; Weisspriess uttered an astonished cry, but addressed Radocky as"my Pierson!" lustily and frequently; and was heard putting a number ofmeaningless questions, laughing and rallying Pierson till the two passedout of hearing unmolested. The lady then kissed a Cross passionately,and shivered Wilfrid's manhood by asking him whether he knew what lovewas. She went on:
"Never, never love a married woman! It's a past practice. Never! Thrusta spike in the palm of your hands drink scalding oil, rather than dothat."
"The Prince Radocky is now safe," Wilfrid said.
"Yes, he is safe; and he is there, and I am here: and I cannot followhim; and when will he come to me?"
The tones were lamentable. She struck her forehead, after she had mutelythrust her hand to right and left to show the space separating her fromher lover.
Her voice changed when she accepted Wilfrid's adieux, to whose fate inthe deadly street she appeared quite indifferent, though she gave himone or two prudent directions, and expressed a hope that she might be ofservice to him.
He was set upon as soon as he emerged from the gateway; the cavalrycloak was torn from his back, and but for the chance circumstance of hisswearing in English, he would have come to harm. A chill went throughhis blood on hearing one of his assailants speak the name of BartoRizzo. The English oath stopped an arm that flashed a dagger half itslength. Wilfrid obeyed a command to declare his name, his country,and his rank. "It's not the prince! it's not the Hungarian!" went manywhispers; and he was drawn away by a man who requested him to deliverhis reasons for entering the palace, and who appeared satisfied byWilfrid's ready mixture of invention and fact. But the cloak! Wilfridstated boldly that the cloak was taken by him from the Duchess ofGraatli's at Como; that he had seen a tall Hussar officer slip it offhis shoulders; that he had wanted a cloak, and had appropriated it.He had entered the gate of the palace because of a woman's hand thatplucked at the skirts of this very cloak.
"I saw you enter," said the man; "do that no more. We will not havethe blood of Italy contaminated--do you hear? While that half-AustrianMedole is tip-toeing 'twixt Milan and Turin, we watch over his honour,to set an example to our women and your officers. You have outwitted usto-night. Off with you!"
Wilfrid was twirled and pushed through the crowd till he got free ofthem. He understood very well that they were magnanimous rascals whocould let an accomplice go, though they would have driven steel into theprincipal.
Nothing came of this adventure for some time. Wilfrid's reflections(apart from the horrible hard truth of Vittoria's marriage, againstwhich he dashed his heart perpetually, almost asking for anguish) hadleisure to examine the singularity of his feeling a commencement ofpride in the clasping of his musket;--he who on the first day of hisdegradation had planned schemes to stick the bayonet-point between hisbreast-bones: he thought as well of the queer woman's way in CountessMedole's adjuration to him that he should never love a marriedwoman;--in her speaking, as it seemed, on his behalf, when it was but anoutcry of her own acute wound. Did he love a married woman? He wantedto see one married woman for the last time; to throw a frightful look onher; to be sublime in scorn of her; perhaps to love her all the betterfor the cruel pain, in the expectation of being consoled. While doingduty as a military machine, these were the pictures in his mind; andso well did his routine drudgery enable him to bear them, that whenhe heard from General Schoneck that the term of his degradation was tocontinue in Italy, and from his sister that General Pierson refusedto speak of him or hear of him until he had regained his goldshoulder-strap, he revolted her with an ejaculation of gladness, andswore brutally that he desired to have no advancement; nothing but sleepand drill; and, he added conscientiously, Havannah cigars. "He hasgrown to be like a comm
on soldier," Adela said to herself with anamazed contemplation of the family tie. Still, she worked on his behalf,having, as every woman has, too strong an instinct as to what is naturalto us to believe completely in any eccentric assertion. She carried thetale of his grief and trials and his romantic devotion to the Imperialflag, daily to Countess Lena; persisting, though she could not win aresponsive look from Lena's face.
One day on the review-ground, Wilfrid beheld Prince Radocky bending fromhis saddle in conversation with Weisspriess. The prince galloped up toGeneral Pierson, and stretched his hand to where Wilfrid was postedas marker to a wheeling column, kept the hand stretched out, and spokefuriously, and followed the General till he was ordered to head hisregiment. Wilfrid began to hug his musket less desperately. Littlepresents--feminine he knew by the perfumes floating round them,--glovesand cigars, fine handkerchiefs, and silks for wear, came to hisbarracks. He pretended to accuse his sister of sending them. She inhonest delight accused Lena. Lena then accused herself of not havingdone so.
It was winter: Vittoria had been seen in Milan. Both Lena and Wilfridspontaneously guessed her to be the guilty one. He made a funeral pyreof the gifts and gave his sister the ashes, supposing that she hadguessed with the same spirited intuition. It suited Adela to relate thislover's performance to Lena. "He did well!" Lena said, and kissed Adelafor the first time. Adela was the bearer of friendly messages to thepoor private in the ranks. From her and from little Jenna, Wilfrid heardthat he was unforgotten by Countess Lena, and new hopes mingled withgratitude caused him to regard his situation seriously. He confessed tohis sister that the filthy fellows, his comrades, were all but too muchfor him, and asked her to kiss him, that he might feel he was not oneof them. But he would not send a message in reply to Lena. "That is alsowell!" Lena said. Her brother Karl was a favourite with General Pierson.She proposed that Adela and herself should go to Count Karl, and urgehim to use his influence with the General. This, however, Adela wasdisinclined to do; she could not apparently say why. When Lena went tohim, she was astonished to hear that he knew every stage of her advanceup to the point of pardoning her erratic lover; and even knew as muchas that Wilfrid's dejected countenance on the night when Vittoria'smarriage was published in the saloon of the duchess on Lake Como, hadgiven her fresh offence. He told her that many powerful advocates weredoing their best for the down-fallen officer, who, if he were shot, orkilled, would still be gazetted an officer. "A nice comfort!" said Lena,and there was a rallying exchange of banter between them, out ofwhich she drew the curious discovery that Karl had one of his strongadmirations for the English lady. "Surely!" she said to herself; "Ithought they were all so cold." And cold enough the English lady seemedwhen Lena led to the theme. "Do I admire your brother, Countess Lena?Oh! yes;--in his uniform exceedingly."
Milan was now full. Wilfrid had heard from Adela that Count Ammianiand his bride were in the city and were strictly watched. Why did notconspirators like these two take advantage of the amnesty? Why were theynot in Rome? Their Chief was in Rome; their friends were in Rome. Whywere they here? A report, coming from Countess d'Isorella, said thatthey had quarrelled with their friends, and were living for love alone.As she visited the Lenkensteins--high Austrians--some believed her; andas Count Ammiani and his bride had visited the Duchess of Graatli, itwas thought possible. Adela had refused to see Vittoria; she did noteven know the house where Count Ammiani dwelt; so Wilfrid was reducedto find it for himself. Every hour when off duty the miserablesentimentalist wandered in that direction, nursing the pangs of adelicious tragedy of emotions; he was like a drunkard going to hisdraught. As soon as he had reached the head of the Corso, he wheeledand marched away from it with a lofty head, internally grinning at hisabject folly, and marvelling at the stiff figure of an Austrian commonsoldier which flashed by the windows as he passed. He who can uniteprudence and madness, sagacity and stupidity, is the true buffoon; nor,vindictive as were his sensations, was Wilfrid unaware of the contrastof Vittoria's soul to his own, that was now made up of antics. He couldnot endure the tones of cathedral music; but he had at times to kneeland listen to it, and be overcome.
On a night in the month of February, a servant out of livery addressedhim at the barrack-gates, requesting him to go at once to a certainhotel, where his sister was staying. He went, and found there, not hissister, but Countess Medole. She smiled at his confusion. Both she andthe prince, she said, had spared no effort to get him reinstated inhis rank; but his uncle continually opposed the endeavours of all hisfriends to serve him. This interview was dictated by the prince's wish,so that he might know them to be a not ungrateful couple. Wilfrid'sembarrassment in standing before a lady in private soldier's uniform,enabled him with very peculiar dignity to declare that his presentdegradation, from the General's point of view, was a just punishment,and he did not crave to have it abated. She remarked that it must endsoon. He made a dim allusion to the littleness of humanity. She laughed."It's the language of an unfortunate lover," she said, and straightway,in some undistinguished sentence, brought the name of CountessAlessandra Ammiani tingling to his ears. She feared that she couldnot be of service to him there; "at least, not just yet," the ladyastonished him by remarking. "I might help you to see her. If you takemy advice you will wait patiently. You know us well enough to understandwhat patience will do. She is supposed to have married for love. Whethershe did or not, you must allow a young married woman two years' grace."
The effect of speech like this, and more in a similar strain of frankcorruptness, was to cleanse Wilfrid's mind, and nerve his heart, and hedenied that he had any desire to meet the Countess Ammiani, unless hecould perform a service that would be agreeable to her.
The lady shrugged. "Well, that is one way. She has enemies, of course."
Wilfrid begged for their names.
"Who are they not?" she replied. "Chiefly women, it is true."
He begged most earnestly for their names; he would have pleadedeloquently, but dreaded that the intonation of one in his low garb mightbe taken for a whine; yet he ventured to say that if the countess didimagine herself indebted to him in a small degree, the mention of twoor three of the names of Countess Alessandra Ammiani's enemies wouldsatisfy him.
"Countess Lena von Lenkenstein, Countess Violetta d'Isorella, signorinaIrma di Karski."
She spoke the names out like a sum that she was paying down in goldpieces, and immediately rang the bell for her servant and carriage,as if she had now acquitted her debt. Wilfrid bowed himself forth. Aresolution of the best kind, quite unconnected with his interests or hislove, urged him on straight to the house of the Lenkensteins, where hesent up his name to Countess Lena. After a delay of many minutes, CountLenkenstein accompanied by General Pierson came down, both evidentlyaffecting not to see him. The General barely acknowledged his salute.
"Hey! Kinsky!" the count turned in the doorway to address him bythe title of his regiment; "here; show me the house inhabited by theCountess d'Isorella during the revolt."
Wilfrid followed them to the end of the street, pointing his finger tothe house, and saluted.
"An Englishman did me the favour--from pure eccentricity, of course--tosave my life on that exact spot, General," said the count. "Yourcountrymen usually take the other side; therefore I mention it."
As Wilfrid was directing his steps to barracks (the little stir tohis pride superinduced by these remarks having demoralized him), CountLenkenstein shouted: "Are you off duty?" Wilfrid had nearly replied thathe was, but just mastered himself in time. "No, indeed!" said the count,"when you have sent up your name to a lady." This time General Piersonput two fingers formally to his cap, and smiled grimly at the private'srigid figure of attention. If Wilfrid's form of pride had consentedto let him take delight in the fact, he would have seen at once thatprosperity was ready to shine on him. He nursed the vexations much tootenderly to give prosperity a welcome; and even when along with Lena,and convinced of her attachment, and glad of it, he persisted in drivingat the subject which had broug
ht him to her house; so that the veilof opening commonplaces, pleasant to a couple in their position, wasplucked aside. His business was to ask her why she was the enemy ofCountess Alessandra Ammiani, and to entreat her that she should not seekto harm that lady. He put it in a set speech. Lena felt that it ought tohave come last, not in advance of their reconciliation. "I will answeryou," she said. "I am not the Countess Alessandra Ammiani's enemy."
He asked her: "Could you be her friend?"
"Does a woman who has a husband want a friend?"
"I could reply, countess, in the case of a man who has a bride."
By dint of a sweet suggestion here and there, love-making crossed thetopic. It appeared that General Pierson had finally been attacked, onthe question of his resistance to every endeavour to restore Wilfrid tohis rank, by Count Lenkenstein, and had barely spoken the words--that ifWilfrid came to Countess Lena of his own free-will, unprompted, to begher forgiveness, he would help to reinstate him, when Wilfrid's name wasbrought up by the chasseur. All had laughed, "Even I," Lena confessed.And then the couple had a pleasant petitish wrangle;--he was requestedto avow that he had came solely, or principally, to beg forgiveness ofher, who had such heaps to forgive. No; on his honour, he had come forthe purpose previously stated, and on the spur of his hearing that shewas Countess Alessandra Ammiani's deadly enemy. "Could you believe thatI was?" said Lena; "why should I be?" and he coloured like a lad, whichsign of an ingenuousness supposed to belong to her set, made Lena boldto take the upper hand. She frankly accused herself of jealousy, thoughshe did not say of whom. She almost admitted that when the time forreflection came, she should rejoice at his having sought her to pleadfor his friend rather than for her forgiveness. In the end, but witha drooping pause of her bright swift look at Wilfrid, she promised toassist him in defeating any machinations against Vittoria's happiness,and to keep him informed of Countess d'Isorella's movements. Wilfridnoticed the withdrawing fire of the look. "By heaven! she doubts mestill," he ejaculated inwardly.
These half-comic little people have their place in the history of highernatures and darker destinies. Wilfrid met Pericles, from whom he heardthat Vittoria, with her husband's consent, had pledged herself to singpublicly. "It is for ze Lombard widows," Pericles apologized on herbehalf; "but, do you see, I only want a beginning. She thaerst for zestage; and it is, after marriage, a good sign. Oh! you shall hear, myfriend; marriage have done her no hurt--ze contrary! You shall hearHymen--Cupids--not a cold machine; it is an organ alaif! She has privilysung to her Pericles, and ser, and if I wake not very late on Judgement.Day, I shall zen hear--but why should I talk poetry to you, to make youlaugh? I have a divin' passion for zat woman. Do I not give her to ahusband, and say, Be happy! onnly sing! Be kissed! be hugged! only givePericles your voice. By Saint Alexandre! it is to say to ze heavens,Move on your way, so long as you drop rain on us r--you smile--you lookkind."
Pericles accompanied him into a caffe, the picture of an enamoured happyman. He waived aside contemptuously all mention of Vittoria's havingenemies. She had them when, as a virgin, she had no sense. As a woman,she had none, for she now had sense. Had she not brought her husband tobe sensible, so that they moved together in Milanese society, insteadof stupidly fighting at Rome? so that what he could not take tohimself--the marvellous voice--he let bless the multitude! "She is theBeethoven of singers," Pericles concluded. Wilfrid thought so on thenight when she sang to succour the Lombard widows. It was at a concert,richly thronged; ostentatiously thronged with Austrian uniforms.He fancied that he could not bear to look on her. He left the housethinking that to hear her and see her and feel that she was one upon theearth, made life less of a burden.
This evening was rendered remarkable by a man's calling out, "You are atraitress!" while Vittoria stood before the seats. She became pale, andher eyelids closed. No thinness was subsequently heard in her voice.The man was caught as he strove to burst through the crowd at theentrance-door, and proved to be a petty bookseller of Milan, by nameSarpo, known as an orderly citizen. When taken he was inflamed withliquor. Next day the man was handed from the civil to the militaryauthorities, he having confessed to the existence of a plot in the city.Pericles came fuming to Wilfrid's quarters. Wilfrid gathered from himthat Sarpo's general confession had been retracted: it was too foolishto snare the credulity of Austrian officials. Sarpo stated that he hadfabricated the story of a plot, in order to escape the persecutions of aterrible man, and find safety in prison lodgings vender Government. Theshort confinement for a civic offence was not his idea of safety; hedesired to be sheltered by Austrian soldiers and a fortress, and saidthat his torments were insupportable while Barto Rizzo was at large.This infamous Republican had latterly been living in his house, eatinghis bread, and threatening death to him unless he obeyed every command.Sarpo had undertaken his last mission for the purpose of supplying hislack of resolution to release himself from his horrible servitude by anyother means; not from personal animosity toward the Countess AlessandraAmmiani, known as la Vittoria. When seized, fear had urged him toescape. Such was his second story. The points seemed irreconcilableto those who were not in the habit of taking human nature into theircalculations of a possible course of conduct; even Wilfrid, though hewas aware that Barto Rizzo hated Vittoria inveterately, imagined Sarpo'sfirst lie to have necessarily fathered a second. But the second storywas true: and the something like lover's wrath with which the outrageto Vittoria fired Pericles, prompted him to act on it as truth. Hetold Wilfrid that he should summon Barto Rizzo to his presence. Asthe Government was unable to exhibit so much power, Wilfrid lookedsarcastic; whereupon Pericles threw up his chin crying: "Oh! you shallknow my resources. Now, my friend, one bit of paper, and a messenger,and zen home to my house, to Tokay and cigarettes, and wait to see."He remarked after pencilling a few lines, "Countess d'Isorella is herenemy? hein!"
"Why, you wouldn't listen to me when I told you," said Wilfrid.
"No," Pericles replied while writing and humming over his pencil; "myear is a pelican-pouch, my friend; it--and Irma is her enemy also?--ittakes and keeps, but does not swallow till it wants. I shall hear you,and I shall hear my Sandra Vittoria, and I shall not know you havespoken, when by-and-by I tinkle, tinkle, a bell of my brain, and yourword walks in,--'quite well?'--'very well! '--sit down'--'if it isze same to you, I prefer to stand'--'good; zen I examine you.'My motto:--'Time opens ze gates: my system: 'it is your doctor ofregiment's system when your twelve, fifteen, forty recruits strip tohim:--'Ah! you, my man, have varicose vein: no soldier in our regiment,you!' So on. Perhaps I am not intelligible; but, hear zis. I speak notoften of my money; but I say--it is in your ear--a man of millions, heis a king!" The Greek jumped up and folded a couple of notes. "I willnot have her disturbed. Let her sing now and awhile to Pericles and hispublic: and to ze Londoners, wiz your permission, Count Ammiani, onesaison. I ask no more, and I am satisfied, and I endow your oldestchild, signor Conte--it is said! For its mama was a good girl, a bravegirl; she troubled Pericles, because he is an intellect; but he forgiveswhen he sees sincerity--rare zing! Sincerity and genius: it may be zeyare as man and wife in a bosom. He forgives; it is not onnly voice hecraves, but a soul, and Sandra, your countess, she has a soul--I am nota Turk. I say, it is a woman in whom a girl I did see a soul! A womanwhen she is married, she is part of ze man; but a soul, it is for everalone, apart, confounded wiz nobody! For it I followed Sandra, yourcountess. It was a sublime devotion of a dog. Her voice tsrilled, hersoul possessed me, Your countess is my Sandra still. I shall be pleasedif child-bearing trouble her not more zan a very little; but, enfin! sheis married, and you and I, my friend Wilfrid, we must accept ze decree,and say, no harm to her out of ze way of nature, by Saint Nicolas! orany what saint you choose for your invocation. Come along. And speed myletters by one of your militaires at once off. Are Pericles' millionsgold of bad mint? If so, he is an incapable. He presumes it is not so.Come along; we will drink to her in essence of Tokay. You shall witnesstwo scenes. Away!"
Wi
lfrid was barely to be roused from his fit of brooding into whichPericles had thrown him. He sent the letters, and begged to be left tosleep. The image of Vittoria seen through this man's mind was new, andbrought a new round of torments. "The devil take you," he cried whenPericles plucked at his arm, "I've sent the letters; isn't that enough?"He was bitterly jealous of the Greek's philosophic review of theconditions of Vittoria's marriage; for when he had come away from theconcert, not a thought of her being a wife had clouded his resignationto the fact. He went with Pericles, nevertheless, and was compelled toacknowledge the kindling powers of the essence of Tokay. "Where do youget this stuff?" he asked several times. Pericles chattered of England,and Hagar's 'Addio,' and 'Camilla.' What cabinet operas would he notgive! What entertainments! Could an emperor offer such festivities tohis subjects? Was a Field Review equal to Vittoria's voice? He stungWilfrid's ears by insisting on the mellowed depth, the soft humanwarmth, which marriage had lent to the voice. At a late hour his valetannounced Countess d'Isorella. "Did I not say so?" cried Pericles, andcorrected himself: "No, I did not say so; it was a surprise to you, myfriend. You shall see; you shall hear. Now you shall see what a friendPericles can be when a person satisfy him." He pushed Wilfrid into hisdressing-room, and immediately received the countess with an outburstof brutal invectives--pulling her up and down the ranked regiment ofher misdeeds, as it were. She tried dignity, tried anger, she affectedamazement, she petitioned for the heads of his accusations, and, asnothing stopped him, she turned to go. Pericles laughed when shehad left the room. Irma di Karski was announced the next minute, andCountess d'Isorella re-appeared beside her. Irma had a similar greeting."I am lost," she exclaimed. "Yes, you are lost," said Pericles; "a wordfrom me, and the back of the public is humped at you--ha! contessa,you touched Mdlle. Irma's hand? She is to be on her guard, and never tothink she is lost till down she goes? You are a more experienced woman!I tell you I will have no nonsense. I am Countess Alessandra Ammiani'sfriend. You two, you women, are her enemies. I will ruin you both. Youwould prevent her singing in public places--you, Countess d'Isorella,because you do not forgive her marriage to Count Ammiani; you, Irma,to spite her for her voice. You would hiss her out of hearing, you twomiserable creatures. Not another soldo for you! Not one! and to-morrow,countess, I will see my lawyer. Irma, begone, and shriek to yourwardrobe! Countess d'Isorella, I have the extreme honour."
Wilfrid marvelled to hear this titled and lovely woman speaking almostin tones of humility in reply to such outrageous insolence. She craveda private interview. Irma was temporarily expelled, and then Violettastooped to ask what the Greek's reason for his behaviour could be. Sheadmitted that it was in his power to ruin her, as far as money went."Perhaps a little farther," said Pericles; "say two steps. If one ison a precipice, two steps count for something." But, what had she done?Pericles refused to declare it. This set her guessing with a charmingnaivete. Pericles called Irma back to assist her in the task, andquitted them that they might consult together and hit upon the rightthing. His object was to send his valet for Luigi Saracco. He hadseen that no truth could be extracted from these women, save forcibly.Unaware that he had gone out, Wilfrid listened long enough to hearIrma say, between sobs: "Oh! I shall throw myself upon his mercy. Oh,Countess d'Isorella, why did you lead me to think of vengeance! I amlost! He knows everything. Oh, what is it to me whether she lives withher husband! Let them go on plotting. I am not the Government. I am sureI don't much dislike her. Yes, I hate her, but why should I hurt myself?She will wear those jewels on her forehead; she will wear that necklacewith the big amethysts, and pretend she's humble because she doesn'tcarry earrings, when her ears have never been pierced! I am lost! Yes,you may say, lookup! I am only a poor singer, and he can ruin me. Oh!Countess d'Isorella, oh! what a fearful punishment. If Countess Annashould betray Count Ammiani to-night, nothing, nothing, will save me.I will confess. Let us both be beforehand with her--or you, it does notmatter for a noble lady."
"Hush!" said Violetta. "What dreadful fool is this I sit with? You mayhave done what you think of doing already."
She walked to the staircase door, and to that of the suite. Anhonourable sentiment, conjoined to the knowledge that he had heardsufficient, induced Wilfrid to pass on into the sleeping apartment amoment or so before Violetta took this precaution. The potent liquor ofPericles had deprived him of consecutive ideas; he sat nursing a thunderin his head, imagining it to be profound thought, till Pericles flungthe door open. Violetta and Irma had departed. "Behold! I have it; zeaddress of your rogue Barto Rizzo," said Pericles, in the manner of onewhose triumph is absolutely due to his own shrewdness. "Are two women amatch for me? Now, my friend, you shall see. Barto Rizzo is too cleverfor zis government, which cannot catch him. I catch him, and I teach himhe may touch politics--it is not for him to touch Art. What! to houndmen to interrupt her while she sings in public places? What next! ButI knew my Countess d'Isorella could help me, and so I sent for her toconfront Irma, and dare to say she knew not Barto's dwelling--and why? Iwill tell you a secret. A long-flattered woman, my friend, she has had,you will think, enough of it; no! she is like avarice. If it is worshipof swine, she cannot refuse it. Barto Rizzo worships her; so it is adeduction--she knows his abode--I act upon that, and I arrive at my end.I now send him to ze devil."
Barto Rizzo, after having evaded the polizia of the city during athree months' steady chase, was effectually captured on the doorstep ofVittoria's house in the Corso Francesco, by gendarmes whom Pericles hadset on his track. A day later Vittoria was stabbed at about the samehour, on the same spot. A woman dealt the blow. Vittoria was returningfrom an afternoon drive with Laura Piaveni and the children. She saw awoman seated on the steps as beggarwomen sit, face in lap. Anxious toshield her from the lacquey, she sent the two little ones up to her withsmall bits of money. But, as the woman would not lift her head, she andLaura prepared to pass her, Laura coming last. The blow, like all suchunexpected incidents, had the effect of lightning on those present;the woman might have escaped, but after she had struck she sat downimpassive as a cat by the hearth, with a round-eyed stare.
The news that Vittoria had been assassinated traversed the city. Carlowas in Turin, Merthyr in Rome. Pericles was one of the first who reachedthe house; he was coming out when Wilfrid and the Duchess of Graatlidrove up; and he accused the Countess d'Isorella flatly of havinginstigated the murder. He was frantic. They supposed that she must havesuccumbed to the wound. The duchess sent for Laura. There was a pressof carriages and soft-humming people in the street; many women andmen sobbing. Wilfrid had to wait an hour for the duchess, who broughtcomfort when she came. Her first words were reassuring. "Ah!" she said,"did I not do well to make you drive here with me instead of with Lena?Those eyes of yours would be unpardonable to her. Yes, indeed; though acorpse were lying in this house; but Countess Alessandra is safe. I haveseen her. I have held her hand."
Wilfrid kissed the duchess's hand passionately.
What she had said of Lena was true: Lena could only be generous upon theafter-thought; and when the duchess drove Wilfrid back to her, he hadto submit to hear scorn: and indignation against all Italians, whowere denounced as cut-throats, and worse and worse and worse, malesand females alike. This way grounded on her sympathy for Vittoria. ButWilfrid now felt toward the Italians through his remembrance of thatdevoted soul's love of them, and with one direct look he bade hisbetrothed good-bye, and they parted.
It was in the early days of March that Merthyr, then among theRepublicans of Rome, heard from Laura Piaveni. Two letters reached him,one telling of the attempted assassination, and a second explainingcircumstances connected with it. The first summoned him to Milan; theother left it to his option to make the journey. He started, carryingkind messages from the Chief to Vittoria, and from Luciano Ramara theoffer of a renewal of old friendship to Count Ammiani. His politicalobject was to persuade the Lombard youth to turn their whole strengthupon Rome. The desire of his heart was again to see her, who had been sonearly lost to al
l eyes for ever.
Laura's first letter stated brief facts. "She was stabbed thisafternoon, at half-past two, on the steps of her house, by a womancalled the wife of Barto Rizzo. She caught her hands up under her throatwhen she saw the dagger. Her right arm was penetrated just above thewrist, and half-an-inch in the left breast, close to the centre bone.She behaved firmly. The assassin only struck once. No visible danger;but you should come, if you have no serious work."
"Happily," ran the subsequent letter, of two days' later date, "theassassin was a woman, and one effort exhausts a woman; she struckonly once, and became idiotic. Sandra has no fever. She had her witsready--where were mine?--when she received the wound. While I had her inmy arms, she gave orders that the woman should be driven out of the cityin her carriage. The Greek, her mad musical adorer, accuses Countessd'Isorella. Carlo has seen this person--returns convinced of herinnocence. That is not an accepted proof; but we have one. It seems thatRizzo (Sandra was secret about it and about one or two other things)sent to her commanding her to appoint an hour detestable style! I cansee it now; I fear these conspiracies no longer:--she did appoint anhour; and was awaiting him when the gendarmes sprang on the man at herdoor.
"He had evaded them several weeks, so we are to fancy that his wifecharged Countess Alessandra with the betrayal. This appears a reasonableand simple way of accounting for the deed. So I only partly give creditto it. But it may be true.
"The wound has not produced a shock to her system--very, veryfortunately. On the whole, a better thing could not have happened.Should I be more explicit? Yes, to you; for you are not of those who seetoo much in what is barely said. The wound, then, my dear good friend,has healed another wound, of which I knew nothing. Bergamasc andBrescian friends of her husband's, have imagined that she interrupted ordiverted his studies. He also discovered that she had an opinion of herown, and sometimes he consulted it; but alas! they are lovers, and heknew not when love listened, or she when love spoke; and there was gravebusiness to be done meanwhile. Can you kindly allow that the case wasopen to a little confusion? I know that you will. He had to hear manyviolent reproaches from his fellow-students. These have ceased. I sendthis letter on the chance of the first being lost on the road; and itwill supplement the first pleasantly to you in any event. She lies herein the room where I write, propped on high pillows, the right arm boundup, and says: 'Tell Merthyr I prayed to be in Rome with my husband,and him, and the Chief. Tell him I love my friend. Tell him I think hedeserves to be in Rome. Tell him--' Enter Countess Ammiani to reproveher for endangering the hopes of the house by fatiguing herself. Sandrasends a blush at me, and I smile, and the countess kisses her. I sendyou a literal transcript of one short scene, so that you may feel athome with us.
"There is a place called Venice, and there is a place called Rome, andboth places are pretty places and famous places; and there is a thingcalled the fashion; and these pretty places and famous places set thefashion: and there is a place called Milan, and a place called Bergamo,and a place called Brescia, and they all want to follow the fashion, forthey are giddy-pated baggages. What is the fashion, mama? The fashion,my dear, is &c. &c. &c.:--Extract of lecture to my little daughter,Amalia, who says she forgets you; but Giacomo sends his manly love. Oh,good God! should I have blood in my lips when I kissed him, if I knewthat he was old enough to go out with a sword in his hand a week hence?I seem every day to be growing more and more all mother. This month infront of us is full of thunder. Addio!"
When Merthyr stood in sight of Milan an army was issuing from the gates.
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