CHAPTER XLII
THE SHADOW ON CONSPIRACY
Merthyr left the house at Laura's whispered suggestion. He was agitatedbeyond control, for Vittoria had fallen with her eyes fixed on him; andat times the picture of his beloved, her husband, and Countess Ammiani,and the children bending over her still body, swam before him like adark altar-piece floating in incense, so lost was he to the reality ofthat scene. He did not hear Beppo, his old servant, at his heels. Aftera while he walked calmly, and Beppo came up beside him. Merthyr shookhis hand.
"Ah, signor Mertyrio! ah, padrone!" said Beppo.
Merthyr directed his observation to a regiment of Austrians marchingdown the Corso Venezia to the Ticinese gate.
"Yes, they are ready enough for us," Beppo remarked. "Perhaps CarloAlberto will beat them this time. If he does, viva to him! If they beathim, down goes another Venetian pyramid. The Countess Alessandra--"Beppo's speech failed.
"What of your mistress?" said Merthyr.
"When she dies, my dear master, there's no one for me but the Madonna toserve."
"Why should she die, silly fellow?"
"Because she never cries."
Merthyr was on the point of saying, "Why should she cry?" His heart wastoo full, and he shrank from inquisitive shadows of the thing known tohim.
"Sit down at this caffe with me," he said. "It's fine weather for March.The troops will camp comfortably. Those Hungarians never require tents.Did you see much sacking of villages last year?"
"Padrone, the Imperial command is always to spare the villages."
"That's humane."
"Padrone, yes; if policy is humanity."
"It's humanity not carried quite as far as we should wish it."
Beppo shrugged and said: "It won't leave much upon the conscience if wekill them."
"Do you expect a rising?" said Merthyr.
"If the Ticino overflows, it will flood Milan," was the answer.
"And your occupation now is to watch the height of the water?"
"My occupation, padrone? I am not on the watch-tower." Beppo winked,adding: "I have my occupation." He threw off the effort or pretence tobe discreet. "Master of my soul! this is my occupation. I drink coffee,but I do not smoke, because I have to kiss a pretty girl, who means toobject to the smell of the smoke. Via! I know her! At five she draws meinto the house."
"Are you relating your amours to me, rascal?" Merthyr interposed.
"Padrone, at five precisely she draws me into the house. She is a Germangirl. Pardon me if I make no war on women. Her name is Aennchen, whichone is able to say if one grimaces;--why not? It makes her laugh; andGerman girls are amiable when one can make them laugh. 'Tis so that theybegin to melt. Behold the difference of races! I must kiss her to melther, and then have a quarrel. I could have it after the first, or thefiftieth with an Italian girl; but my task will be excessively difficultwith a German girl, if I am compelled to allow myself to favour her withone happy solicitation for a kiss, to commence with. We shall see. Itis, as my abstention from tobacco declares, an anticipated catastrophe."
"Long-worded, long-winded, obscure, affirmatizing by negatives,confessing by implication!--where's the beginning and end of you, andwhat's your meaning?" said Merthyr, who talked to him as one may talk toan Italian servant.
"The contessa, my mistress, has enemies. Padrone, I devote myself to herservice."
"By making love to a lady's maid?"
"Padrone, a rat is not born to find his way up the grand staircase. Shehas enemies. One of them was the sublime Barto Rizzo--admirable--thoughI must hate him. He said to his wife: 'If a thing happens to me, stab tothe heart the Countess Alessandra Ammiani.'"
"Inform me how you know that?" said Merthyr.
Beppo pointed to his head, and Merthyr smiled. To imagine, invent, andbelieve, were spontaneous with Beppo when has practical sagacity was noton the stretch. He glanced at the caffe clock.
"Padrone, at eleven to-night shall I see you here? At eleven I shallcome like a charged cannon. I have business. I have seen my mistress'sblood! I will tell you: this German girl lets me know that some onedetests my mistress. Who? I am off to discover. But who is the damnedcreature? I must coo and kiss, while my toes are dancing on hot plates,to find her out. Who is she? If she were half Milan..."
His hands waved in outline the remainder of the speech, and he rose, butsat again. He had caught sight of the spy, Luigi Saracco, addressing thesignor Antonio-Pericles in his carriage. Pericles drove on. The horsespresently turned, and he saluted Merthyr.
"She has but one friend in Milan: it is myself," was his introductoryremark. "My poor child! my dear Powys, she is the best--'I cannot singto you to-day, dear Pericles'--she said that after she had opened hereyes; after the first mist, you know. She is the best child upon earth.I could wish she were a devil, my Powys. Such a voice should be in aniron body. But she has immense health. The doctor, who is also mine,feels her pulse. He assures me it goes as Time himself, and Time, myfriend, you know, has the intention of going a great way. She is good:she is too good. She makes a baby of Pericles, to whom what is woman?Have I not the sex in my pocket? Her husband, he is a fool, ser."Pericles broke thundering into a sentence of English, fell in love withit, and resumed in the same tongue: "I--it is I zat am her guard, hersafety. Her husband--oh! she must marry a young man, little donkey zatshe is! We accept it as a destiny, my Powys. And he plays false to her.Good; I do not object. But, imagine in your own mind, my Powys--insteadof passion, of rage, of tempest, she is frozen wiz a repose. Do you,hein? sink it will come out,"--Pericles eyed Merthyr with a subtlesmile askew,--"I have sot so;--it will come out when she is one day ina terrible scene ... Mon Dieu! it was a terrible scene for me when Ilooked on ze clout zat washed ze blood of ze terrible assassination. Sogoes out a voice, possibly! Divine, you say? We are a machine. Now,you behold, she has faints. It may happen at my concert where she singsto-morrow night. You saw me in my carriage speaking to a man. He is myspy--my dog wiz a nose. I have set him upon a woman. If zat woman has aplot for to-morrow night to spoil my concert, she shall not knowwhere she shall wake to-morrow morning after. Ha! here is militarymusic--twenty sossand doors jam on horrid hinge; and right, left,right, left, to it, confound! like dolls all wiz one face. Look atyour soldiers, Powys. Put zem on a stage, and you see all backgroundpeople--a bawling chorus. It shows to you how superior it is--a stageto life! Hark to such music! I cannot stand it; I am driven away; I amviolent; I rage."
Pericles howled the name of his place of residence, with an offer oflodgings in it, and was carried off writhing his body as he passed afine military marching band.
The figure of old Agostino Balderini stood in front of Merthyr.They exchanged greetings. At the mention of Rome, Agostino frownedimpatiently. He spoke of Vittoria in two or three short exclamations,and was about to speak of Carlo, but checked his tongue. "Judge foryourself. Come, and see, and approve, if you can. Will you come? There'sa meeting; there's to be a resolution. Question--Shall we second theKing of Sardinia, Piedmont, and Savoy? If so, let us set this pumpkin,called Milan, on its legs. I shall be an attentive listener like you, myfriend. I speak no more."
Merthyr went with him to the house of a carpenter, where in one of theuppermost chambers communicating with the roof, Ugo Corte, Marco Sana,Giulio Bandinelli, and others, sat waiting for the arrival of CarloAmmiani; when he came Carlo had to bear with the looks of mastiffs forbeing late. He shook Merthyr's hand hurriedly, and as soon as the doorwas fastened, began to speak. His first sentence brought a grunt ofderision from Ugo Corte. It declared that there was no hope of a risingin Milan. Carlo swung round upon the Bergamasc. "Observe our leader,"Agostino whispered to Merthyr; "it would be kindness to give him aduel." More than one tumult of outcries had to be stilled before Merthyrgathered any notion of the designs of the persons present. Bergamascsneered at Brescian, and both united in contempt of the Milanese, who,having a burden on their minds, appealed at once to their individualwillingness to use the sword in vind
ication of Milan against itstraducers. By a great effort, Carlo got some self-mastery. He admitted,colouring horribly, that Brescia and Bergamo were ready, and Milan wasnot; therefore those noble cities (he read excerpts from letters showingtheir readiness) were to take the lead, and thither on the morrow-nighthe would go, let the tidings from the king's army be what they might.
Merthyr quitted the place rather impressed by his eloquence, butunfavourably by his feverish look. Countess d'Isorella had been referredto as one who served the cause ably and faithfully. In alluding toher, Carlo bit his lip; he did not proceed until surrounding murmurs ofsatisfaction encouraged him to continue a sort of formal eulogy of thelady, which proved to be a defence against foregone charges, for Corteretracted an accusation, and said that he had no fault to find with thecountess. A proposal to join the enterprise was put to Merthyr, but hisengagement with the Chief in Rome saved him from hearing much of themarvellous facilities of the plot. "I should have wished to see youto-night," Carlo said as they were parting. Merthyr named his hotel.Carlo nodded. "My wife is still slightly feeble," he said.
"I regret it," Merthyr rejoined.
"She is not ill."
"No, it cannot be want of courage," Merthyr spoke at random.
"Yes, that's true," said Carlo, as vacantly. "You will see her while Iam travelling."
"I hope to find the Countess Alessandra well enough to receive me."
"Always; always," said Carlo, wishing apparently to say more. Merthyrwaited an instant, but Carlo broke into a conventional smile of adieu.
"While he is travelling," Merthyr repeated to Agostino, who had stood byduring the brief dialogue, and led the way to the Corso.
"He did not say how far!" was the old man's ejaculation.
"But, good heaven! if you think he's on an unfortunate errand, why don'tyou stop him, advise him?" Merthyr broke out.
"Advise him! stop him! my friend. I would advise him, if I had thepatience of angels; stop him, if I had the power of Lucifer. Did you notsee that he shunned speaking to me? I have been such a perpetual dish ofvinegar under his nose for the last month, that the poor fellow sniffswhen I draw near. He must go his way. He leads a torrent that must sweephim on. Corte, Sana, and the rest would be in Rome now, but for him. Soshould I. Your Agostino, however, is not of Bergamo, or of Brescia; heis not a madman; simply a poor rheumatic Piedmontese, who discerns thepoint where a united Italy may fix its standard. I would start for Rometo-morrow, if I could leave her--my soul's child!" Agostino raised hishand: "I do love the woman, Countess Alessandra Ammiani. I say, she is apeerless woman. Is she not?"
"There is none like her," said Merthyr.
"A peerless woman, recognized and sacrificed! I cannot leave her. If theGovernment here would lay hands on Carlo and do their worst at once, Iwould be off. They are too wary. I believe that they are luring him tohis ruin. I can give no proofs, but I judge by the best evidence. Whatavails my telling him? I lose my temper the moment I begin to speak. Acurst witch beguiles the handsome idiot--poor darling lad that he is!She has him--can I tell you how? She has got him--got him fast!--Thenature of the chains are doubtless innocent, if those which a womanthrows round us be ever distinguishable. He loves his wife--he is not amonster."
"He appears desperately feverish," said Merthyr.
"Did you not notice it? Yes, like a man pushed by his destiny out of thepath. He is ashamed to hesitate; he cannot turn back. Ahead of him hesees a gulf. That army of Carlo Alberto may do something under its Pole.Prophecy is too easy. I say no more. We may have Lombardy open; and ifso, my poor boy's vanity will be crowned: he will only have the king andhis army against him then."
Discoursing in this wise, they reached the caffe where Beppo hadappointed to meet his old master, and sat amid here and there awhitecoat, and many nods and whispers over such news as the privilegedjournals and the official gazette afforded.
Beppo's destination was to the Duchess of Graatli's palace. Nearing it,he perceived Luigi endeavouring to gain a passage beside the burly formof Jacob Baumwalder Feckelwitz, who presently seized him and hurled himinto the road. As Beppo was sidling up the courtway, Jacob sprang back;Luigi made a rush; Jacob caught them both, but they wriggled out of hisclutch, and Luigi, being the fearfuller, ran the farthest. While he wasout of hearing, Beppo told Jacob to keep watch upon Luigi, as the bearerof an amorous letter from a signor of quality to Aennchen, the which hehimself desired to obtain sight of; "for the wench has caused methree sleepless nights," he confessed frankly. Jacob affected not tounderstand. Luigi and Beppo now leaned against the wall on either sideof him and baited him till he shook with rage.
"He is the lord of the duchess, his mistress--what a lucky fellow!"said Luigi. "When he's dog at the gates no one can approach her. When heisn't, you can fancy what!"--"He's only a mechanical contrivance; he'snot a man," said Beppo. "He's the principal flea-catcher of the palace,"said Luigi--"here he is all day, and at night the devil knows where hehunts."--Luigi hopped in a half-circle round the exacerbated Jacob, andfinally provoked an assault that gave an opening to Beppo. They allran in, Luigi last. Jacob chased Beppo up the stairs, lost him, andremembered what he had said of the letter borne by Luigi, for whomhe determined to lie in waiting. "Better two in there than one," hethought. The two courted his Aennchen openly; but Luigi, as the bearerof an amorous letter from the signor of quality, who could be no otherthan signor Antonio-Pericles, was the one to be intercepted. Like otherjealous lovers, Jacob wanted to read Aennchen's answer, to be cured ofhis fatal passion for the maiden, and on this he set the entire force ofhis mind.
Running up by different staircases, Beppo and Luigi came upon Aennchennearly at the same time. She turned a cold face on Beppo, and requestedLuigi to follow her. Astonished to see him in such favour, Beppo wasready to provoke the quarrel before the kiss when she returned; butshe said that she had obeyed her mistress's orders, and was obeying theduchess in refusing to speak of them, or of anything relating to them.She had promised him an interview in that little room leading into theduchess's boudoir. He pressed her to conduct him. "Ah; then it's not forme you come," she said. Beppo had calculated that the kiss would openhis way to the room, and the quarrel disembarrass him of his prettycompanion when there. "You have come to listen to conversation again,"said Aennchen. "Ach! the fool a woman is to think that you Italians haveany idea except self-interest when you, when you... talk nonsense tous. Go away, if you please. Good-evening." She dropped a curtsey with asurly coquetry, charming of its kind. Beppo protested that the roomwas dear to him because there first he had known for one blissfulhalf-second the sweetness of her mouth.
"Who told you that persons who don't like your mistress are going totalk in there?" said Aennchen.
"You," said Beppo.
Aennchen drew up in triumph: "And now will you pretend that you didn'tcome up here to go in there to listen to what they say?"
Beppo clapped hands at her cleverness in trapping him. "Hush," said allher limbs and features, belying the previous formal "good-evening."He refused to be silent, thinking it a way of getting to the littleantechamber. "Then, I tell you, downstairs you go," said Aennchenstiffly.
"Is it decided?" Beppo asked. "Then, good-evening. You detestableGerman girls can't love. One step--a smile: another step--a kiss. Youtit-for-tat minx! Have you no notion of the sacredness of the sentimentswhich inspires me to petition that the place for our interview should bethere where I tasted ecstatic joy for the space of a flash of lightning?I will go; but it is there that I will go, and I will await you there,signorina Aennchen. Yes, laugh at me! laugh at me!"
"No; really, I don't laugh at you, signor Beppo," said Aennchen,protesting in denial of what she was doing. "This way."
"No, it's that way," said Beppo.
"It's through here." She opened a door. "The duchess has a receptionto-night, and you can't go round. Ach! you would not betray me?"
"Not if it were the duchess herself," said Beppo; "he would refuse tosatisfy man's natural vanity, in su
ch a case."
Eager to advance to the little antechamber, he allowed Aennchen to waitbehind him. He heard the door shut and a lock turn, and he was in thedark, and alone, left to take counsel of his fingers' ends.
"She was born to it," Beppo remarked, to extenuate his outwittedcunning, when he found each door of the room fast against him.
On the following night Vittoria was to sing at a concert in the Duchessof Graatli's great saloon, and the duchess had humoured Pericles byconsenting to his preposterous request that his spy should have anopportunity of hearing Countess d'Isorella and Irma di Karski in privateconversation together, to discover whether there was any plot of anysort to vex the evening's entertainment; as the jealous spite of thosetwo women, Pericles said, was equal to any devilry on earth. It happenedthat Countess d'Isorella did not come. Luigi, in despair,--was thehearer of a quick question and answer dialogue, in the obscure Germantongue, between Anna von Lenkenstein and Irma di Karski; but a happypeep between the hanging curtains gave him sight of a letter passingfrom Anna's hands to Irma's. Anna quitted her. Irma, was looking at thesuperscription of the letter, an the act of passing in her steps, whenLuigi tore the curtains apart, and sprang on her arm like a cat. Beforeher shrieks could bring succour, Luigi was bounding across the courtwith the letter in his possession. A dreadful hug awaited him; hispockets were ransacked, and he was pitched aching into the street. JacobBaumwalder Feckelwitz went straightway under a gas-lamp, where he readthe address of the letter to Countess d'Isorella. He doubted; he hada half-desire to tear the letter open. But a rumour of the attack uponIrma had spread among the domestics and Jacob prudently went up to hismistress. The duchess was sitting with Laura. She received the letter,eyed: it all over, and held it to a candle.
Laura's head was bent in dark meditation. The sudden increase of lightaroused her, and she asked, "What is that?"
"A letter from Countess Anna to Countess d'Isorella," said the duchess.
"Burnt!" Laura screamed.
"It's only fair," the duchess remarked.
"From her to that woman! It may be priceless. Stop! Let me see whatremains. Amalia! are you mad? Oh! you false friend. I would havesacrificed my right hand to see it."
"Try and love me still," said the duchess, letting her take one unburntcorner, and crumble the black tissuey fragments to smut in her hands.
There was no writing; the unburnt corner of the letter was a blank.
Laura fooled the wretched ashes between her palms. "Good-night," shesaid. "Your face will be of this colour to me, my dear, for long."
"I cannot behave disgracefully, even to keep your love, my beloved,"said the duchess.
"You cannot betray a German, you mean," Laura retorted. "You could let aspy into the house."
"That was a childish matter--merely to satisfy a whim."
"I say you could let a spy into the house. Who is to know where thescruples of you women begin? I would have given my jewels, my head, myhusband's sword, for a sight of that letter. I swear that it concernsus. Yes, us. You are a false friend. Fish-blooded creature! may it be ayear before I look on you again. Hide among your miserable set!"
"Judge me when you are cooler, dearest," said the duchess, seeking todetain the impetuous sister of her affection by the sweeping skirts; butLaura spurned her touch, and went from her.
Irma drove to Countess d'Isorella's. Violetta was abed, and lay fairand placid as a Titian Venus, while Irma sputtered out her tale, withintermittent sobs. She rose upon her elbow, and planting it in herpillow, took half-a-dozen puffs of a cigarette, and then requested Irmato ring for her maid. "Do nothing till you see me again," she said;"and take my advice: always get to bed before midnight, or you'll haveunmanageable wrinkles in a couple of years. If you had been in bed at aprudent hour to-night, this scandal would not have occurred."
"How can I be in bed? How could I help it?" moaned Irma, replying to theabstract rule, and the perplexing illustration of its force.
Violetta dismissed her. "After all, my wish is to save my poorAmaranto," she mused. "I am only doing now what I should have been doingin the daylight; and if I can't stop him, the Government must; and theywill. Whatever the letter contained, I can anticipate it. He knows myprofession and my necessities. I must have money. Why not from the richGerman woman whom he jilted?"
She attributed Anna's apparent passion of revenge to a secret passion ofunrequited love. What else was implied by her willingness to part withland and money for the key to his machinations?
Violetta would have understood a revenge directed against AngeloGuidascarpi, as the slayer of Anna's brother. But of him Anna had onlyinquired once, and carelessly, whether he was in Milan. Anna's mysticalsemi-patriotism--prompted by her hatred of Vittoria, hatred of Carlo asAngelo's cousin and protector, hatred of the Italy which held the three,who never took the name Tedesco on their tongues without loathing--wasperfectly hidden from this shrewd head.
Some extra patrols were in the streets. As she stepped into thecarriage, a man rushed up, speaking hoarsely and inarticulately, andjumped in beside her. She had discerned Barto Rizzo in time to givedirections to her footman, before she was addressed by a body ofgendarmes in pursuit, whom she mystified by entreating them to enterher house and search it through, if they supposed that any evil-doerhad taken advantage of the open door. They informed her that a man hadescaped from the civil prison. "Poor creature!" said the countess, withwomanly pity; "but you must see that he is not in my house. How couldthree of you let one escape?" She drove off laughing at their vehementassertion that he would not have escaped from them. Barto Rizzo made herconduct him to Countess Ammiani's gates.
Violetta was frightened by his eyes when she tried to persuade him inher best coaxing manner to avoid Count Ammiani. In fact she apprehendedthat he would be very much in her way. She had no time for chagrin ather loss of power over him, though she was sensible of vexation. Bartofolded his arms and sat with his head in his chest, silent, till theyreached the' gates, when he said in French, "Madame, I am a namelessperson in your train. Gabble!" he added, when the countess advised himnot to enter; nor would he allow her to precede him by more than onestep. Violetta sent up her name. The man had shaken her nerves. "Atleast, remember that your appearance should be decent," she said,catching sight of blood on his hands, and torn garments. "I expect,madame," he replied, "I shall not have time to wash before I amlaid out. My time is short. I want tobacco. The washing can be doneby-and-by, but not the smoking."
They were ushered up to the reception-room, where Countess Ammiani,Vittoria, and Carlo sat, awaiting the visitor whose unexpected name,cast in their midst at so troubled a season, had clothed her with someof the midnight's terrors.
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