by George Eliot
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
THE PEASANTS' FAIR.
The moving crowd and the strange mixture of noises that burst on him atthe entrance of the piazza, reminded Tito of what Nello had said to himabout the Fierucoloni, and he pushed his way into the crowd with a sortof pleasure in the hooting and elbowing, which filled the empty moments,and dulled that calculation of the future which had so new a drearinessfor him, as he foresaw himself wandering away solitary in pursuit ofsome unknown fortune, that his thought had even glanced towards going insearch of Baldassarre after all.
At each of the opposite inlets he saw people struggling into the piazza,while above them paper lanterns, held aloft on sticks, were wavinguncertainly to and fro. A rude monotonous chant made a distinctlytraceable strand of noise, across which screams, whistles, gibing chantsin piping boyish voices, the beating of drums, and the ringing of littlebells, met each other in confused din. Every now and then one of thedim floating lights disappeared with a smash from a stone launched moreor less vaguely in pursuit of mischief, followed by a scream and renewedshouts. But on the outskirts of the whirling tumult there were groupswho were keeping this vigil of the Nativity of the Virgin in a moremethodical manner than by fitful stone-throwing and gibing. Certainragged men, darting a hard sharp glance around them while their tonguesrattled merrily, were inviting country people to game with them on fairand open-handed terms; two masquerading figures on stilts, who hadsnatched lanterns from the crowd, were swaying the lights to and fro inmeteoric fashion, as they strode hither and thither; a sage trader wasdoing a profitable business at a small covered stall, in hot_berlingozzi_, a favourite farinaceous delicacy; one man standing on abarrel, with his back firmly planted against a pillar of the loggia infront of the Foundling Hospital (Spedale degl' Innocenti), was sellingefficacious pills, invented by a doctor of Salerno, warranted to preventtoothache and death by drowning; and not far off, against anotherpillar, a tumbler was showing off his tricks on a small platform; whilea handful of 'prentices, despising the slack entertainment of guerillastone-throwing, were having a private concentrated match of thatfavourite Florentine sport at the narrow entrance of the Via de'Febbrai.
Tito, obliged to make his way through chance openings in the crowd,found himself at one moment close to the trotting procession ofbarefooted, hard-heeled contadine, and could see their sun-dried,bronzed faces, and their strange, fragmentary garb, dim with hereditarydirt, and of obsolete stuffs and fashions, that made them look, in theeyes of the city people, like a way-worn ancestry returning from apilgrimage on which they had set out a century ago. Just then it wasthe hardy, scant-feeding peasant-women from the mountains of Pistoia,who wore entering with a year's labour in a moderate bundle of yarn ontheir backs, and in their hearts that meagre hope of good and that widedim fear of harm, which were somehow to be cared for by the BlessedVirgin, whose miraculous image, painted by the angels, was to have thecurtain drawn away from it on this Eve of her Nativity, that its potencymight stream forth without obstruction.
At another moment he was forced away towards the boundary of the piazza,where the more stationary candidates for attention and small coin hadjudiciously placed themselves, in order to be safe in their rear. Amongthese Tito recognised his acquaintance Bratti, who stood with his backagainst a pillar, and his mouth pursed up in disdainful silence, eyeingevery one who approached him with a cold glance of superiority, andkeeping his hand fast on a serge covering which concealed the contentsof the basket slung before him. Rather surprised at a deportment sounusual in an anxious trader, Tito went nearer and saw two women go upto Bratti's basket with a look of curiosity, whereupon the pedlar drewthe covering tighter, and looked another way. It was quite tooprovoking, and one of the women was fain to ask what there was in hisbasket?
"Before I answer that, Monna, I must know whether you mean to buy. Ican't show such wares as mine in this fair for every fly to settle onand pay nothing. My goods are a little too choice for that. Besides,I've only two left, and I've no mind to soil them; for with the chancesof the pestilence that wise men talk of, there is likelihood of theirbeing worth their weight in gold. No, no: _andate con Dio_."
The two women looked at each other.
"And what may be the price?" said the second.
"Not within what you are likely to have in your purse, buona donna,"said Bratti, in a compassionately supercilious tone. "I recommend youto trust in Messer Domeneddio and the saints: poor people can do nobetter for themselves."
"Not so poor!" said the second woman, indignantly, drawing out hermoney-bag. "Come, now! what do you say to a grosso?"
"I say you may get twenty-one quattrini for it," said Bratti, coolly;"but not of me, for I haven't got that small change."
"Come; two, then?" said the woman, getting exasperated, while hercompanion looked at her with some envy. "It will hardly be above two, Ithink."
After further bidding, and further mercantile coquetry, Bratti put on anair of concession.
"Since you've set your mind on it," he said, slowly raising the cover,"I should be loth to do you a mischief; for Maestro Gabbadeo used tosay, when a woman sets her mind on a thing and doesn't get it, she's inworse danger of the pestilence than before. Ecco! I have but two left;and let me tell you, the fellow to them is on the finger of MaestroGabbadeo, who is gone to Bologna--as wise a doctor as sits at any door."
The precious objects were two clumsy iron rings, beaten into the fashionof old Roman rings, such as were sometimes disinterred. The rust onthem, and the entirely hidden character of their potency, were sosatisfactory, that the grossi were paid without grumbling, and the firstwoman, destitute of those handsome coins, succeeded after much show ofreluctance on Bratti's part in driving a bargain with some of her yarn,and carried off the remaining ring in triumph. Bratti covered up hisbasket, which was now filled with miscellanies, probably obtained underthe same sort of circumstances as the yarn, and, moving from his pillar,came suddenly upon Tito, who, if he had had time, would have chosen toavoid recognition.
"By the head of San Giovanni, now," said Bratti, drawing Tito back tothe pillar, "this is a piece of luck. For I was talking of you thismorning, Messer Greco; but, I said, he is mounted up among the signorinow--and I'm glad of it, for I was at the bottom of his fortune--but Ican rarely get speech of him, for he's not to be caught lying on thestones now--not he! But it's your luck, not mine, Messer Greco, saveand except some small trifle to satisfy me for my trouble in thetransaction."
"You speak in riddles, Bratti," said Tito. "Remember, I don't sharpenmy wits, as you do, by driving hard bargains for iron rings: you must beplain."
"By the Holy 'Vangels! it was an easy bargain I gave them. If a Hebrewgets thirty-two per cent, I hope a Christian may get a little more. IfI had not borne a conscience, I should have got twice the money andtwice the yarn. But, talking of rings, it is your ring--that very ringyou've got on your finger--that I could get you a purchaser for; ay, anda purchaser with a deep money-bag."
"Truly?" said Tito, looking at his ring and listening.
"A Genoese who is going straight away into Hungary, as I understand. Hecame and looked all over my shop to see if I had any old things I didn'tknow the price of; I warrant you, he thought I had a pumpkin on myshoulders. He had been rummaging all the shops in Florence. And he hada ring on--not like yours, but something of the same fashion; and as hewas talking of rings, I said I knew a fine young man, a particularacquaintance of mine, who had a ring of that sort. And he said, `Who ishe, pray? Tell him I'll give him his price for it.' And I thought ofgoing after you to Nello's to-morrow; for it's my opinion of you, MesserGreco, that you're not one who'd see the Arno run broth, and stand bywithout dipping your finger."
Tito had lost no word of what Bratti had said, yet his mind had beenvery busy all the while. Why should he keep the ring? It had been amere sentiment, a mere fancy, that had prevented him from selling itwith the other gems; if he had been wiser and had sold it, he mightperhaps have esca
ped that identification by Fra Luca. It was true thatit had been taken from Baldassarre's finger and put on his own as soonas his young hand had grown to the needful size; but there was really novalid good to anybody in those superstitious scruples about inanimateobjects. The ring had helped towards the recognition of him. Tito hadbegun to dislike recognition, which was a claim from the past. Thisforeigner's offer, if he would really give a good price, was anopportunity for getting rid of the ring without the trouble of seeking apurchaser.
"You speak with your usual wisdom, Bratti," said Tito. "I have noobjection to hear what your Genoese will offer. But when and whereshall I have speech of him?"
"To-morrow, at three hours after sunrise, he will be at my shop, and ifyour wits are of that sharpness I have always taken them to be, MesserGreco, you will ask him a heavy price; for he minds not money. It's mybelief he's buying for somebody else, and not for himself--perhaps forsome great signor."
"It is well," said Tito. "I will be at your shop, if nothing hinders."
"And you will doubtless deal nobly by me for old acquaintance' sake,Messer Greco, so I will not stay to fix the small sum you will give mein token of my service in the matter. It seems to me a thousand yearsnow till I get out of the piazza, for a fair is a dull, not to say awicked thing, when one has no more goods to sell."
Tito made a hasty sign of assent and adieu, and moving away from thepillar, again found himself pushed towards the middle of the piazza andback again, without the power of determining his own course. In thiszigzag way he was earned along to the end of the piazza opposite thechurch, where, in a deep recess formed by an irregularity in the line ofhouses, an entertainment was going forward which seemed to be especiallyattractive to the crowd. Loud bursts of laughter interrupted amonologue which was sometimes slow and oratorical, at others rattlingand buffoonish. Here a girl was being pushed forward into the innercircle with apparent reluctance, and there a loud laughing minx wasfinding a way with her own elbows. It was a strange light that wasspread over the piazza. There were the pale stars breaking out above,and the dim waving lanterns below, leaving all objects indistinct exceptwhen they were seen close under the fitfully moving lights; but in thisrecess there was a stronger light, against which the heads of theencircling spectators stood in dark relief as Tito was gradually pushedtowards them, while above them rose the head of a man wearing a whitemitre with yellow cabalistic figures upon it.
"Behold, my children!" Tito heard him saying, "behold your opportunity!neglect not the holy sacrament of matrimony when it can be had for thesmall sum of a white quattrino--the cheapest matrimony ever offered, anddissolved by special bull beforehand at every man's own will andpleasure. Behold the bull!" Here the speaker held up a piece ofparchment with huge seals attached to it. "Behold the indulgencegranted by his Holiness Alexander the Sixth, who, being newly electedPope for his peculiar piety, intends to reform and purify the Church,and wisely begins by abolishing that priestly abuse which keeps toolarge a share of this privileged matrimony to the clergy and stints thelaity. Spit once, my sons, and pay a white quattrino! This is thewhole and sole price of the indulgence. The quattrino is the onlydifference the Holy Father allows to be put any longer between us andthe clergy--who spit and pay nothing."
Tito thought he knew the voice, which had a peculiarly sharp ring, butthe face was too much in shadow from the lights behind for him to besure of the features. Stepping as near as he could, he saw within thecircle behind the speaker an altar-like table raised on a smallplatform, and covered with a red drapery stitched all over with yellowcabalistical figures. Half-a-dozen thin tapers burned at the back ofthis table, which had a conjuring apparatus scattered over it, a largeopen book in the centre, and at one of the front angles a monkeyfastened by a cord to a small ring and holding a small taper, which inhis incessant fidgety movements fell more or less aslant, whilst animpish boy in a white surplice occupied himself chiefly in cuffing themonkey, and adjusting the taper. The man in the mitre also wore asurplice, and over it a chasuble on which the signs of the zodiac wererudely marked in black upon a yellow ground. Tito was sure now that herecognised the sharp upward-tending angles of the face under the mitre:it was that of Maestro Vaiano, the mountebank, from whom he had rescuedTessa. Pretty little Tessa! Perhaps she too had come in among thetroops of contadine.
"Come, my maidens! This is the time for the pretty who can have manychances, and for the ill-favoured who have few. Matrimony to be had--hot, eaten, and done with as easily as _berlingozzi_! And see!" herethe conjuror held up a cluster of tiny bags. "To every bride I give a_Breve_ with a secret in it--the secret alone worth the money you payfor the matrimony. The secret how to--no, no, I will not tell you whatthe secret is about, and that makes it a double secret. Hang it roundyour neck if you like, and never look at it; I don't say _that_ will notbe the best, for then you will see many things you don't expect: thoughif you open it you may break your leg, _e vero_, but you will know asecret! Something nobody knows but me! And mark--I give you the_Breve_, I don't sell it, as many another holy man would: the quattrinois for the matrimony, and the _Breve_ you get for nothing. _Orsu,giovanetti_, come like dutiful sons of the Church and buy the Indulgenceof his Holiness Alexander the Sixth."
This buffoonery just fitted the taste of the audience; the _fierucola_was but a small occasion, so the townsmen might be contented with jokesthat were rather less indecent than those they were accustomed to hearat every carnival, put into easy rhyme by the Magnifico and his poeticsatellites; while the women, over and above any relish of the fun,really began to have an itch for the _Brevi_. Several couples hadalready gone through the ceremony, in which the conjuror's solemngibberish and grimaces over the open book, the antics of the monkey, andeven the preliminary spitting, had called forth peals of laughter; andnow a well-looking, merry-eyed youth of seventeen, in a loose tunic andred cap, pushed forward, holding by the hand a plump brunette, whosescanty ragged dress displayed her round arms and legs verypicturesquely.
"Fetter us without delay, Maestro!" said the youth, "for I have got totake my bride home and paint her under the light of a lantern."
"Ha! Mariotto, my son, I commend your pious observance..." Theconjuror was going on, when a loud chattering behind warned him that anunpleasant crisis had arisen with his monkey.
The temper of that imperfect acolyth was a little tried by theover-active discipline of his colleague in the surplice, and a suddencuff administered as his taper fell to a horizontal position, caused himto leap back with a violence that proved too much for the slackened knotby which his cord was fastened. His first leap was to the other end ofthe table, from which position his remonstrances were so threateningthat the imp in the surplice took up a wand by way of an equivalentthreat, whereupon the monkey leaped on to the head of a tall woman inthe foreground, dropping his taper by the way, and chattering withincreased emphasis from that eminence. Great was the screaming andconfusion, not a few of the spectators having a vague dread of theMaestro's monkey, as capable of more hidden mischief than mere teeth andclaws could inflict; and the conjuror himself was in some alarm lest anyharm should happen to his familiar. In the scuffle to seize themonkey's string, Tito got out of the circle, and, not caring to contendfor his place again, he allowed himself to be gradually pushed towardsthe church of the Nunziata, and to enter amongst the worshippers.
The brilliant illumination within seemed to press upon his eyes withpalpable force after the pale scattered lights and broad shadows of thepiazza, and for the first minute or two he could see nothing distinctly.That yellow splendour was in itself something supernatural and heavenlyto many of the peasant-women, for whom half the sky was hidden bymountains, and who went to bed in the twilight; and the uninterruptedchant from the choir was repose to the ear after the hellish hubbub ofthe crowd outside. Gradually the scene became clearer, though stillthere was a thin yellow haze from incense mingling with the breath ofthe multitude. In a chapel on the left-hand of the nave, wreath
ed withsilver lamps, was seen unveiled the miraculous fresco of theAnnunciation, which, in Tito's oblique view of it from the right-handside of the nave, seemed dark with the excess of light around it. Thewhole area of the great church was filled with peasant-women, somekneeling, some standing; the coarse bronzed skins, and the dingyclothing of the rougher dwellers on the mountains, contrasting with thesofter-lined faces and white or red head-drapery of the well-to-dodwellers in the valley, who were scattered in irregular groups. Andspreading high and far over the walls and ceiling there was anothermultitude, also pressing close against each other, that they might benearer the potent Virgin. It was the crowd of votive waxen images, theeffigies of great personages, clothed in their habit as they lived:Florentines of high name in their black silk lucco, as when they sat incouncil; popes, emperors, kings, cardinals, and famous condottieri withplumed morion seated on their chargers; all notable strangers who passedthrough Florence or had aught to do with its affairs--Mohammedans, even,in well-tolerated companionship with Christian cavaliers; some of themwith faces blackened and robes tattered by the corroding breath ofcenturies, others fresh and bright in new red mantle or steel corselet,the exact doubles of the living. And wedged in with all these weredetached arms, legs, and other members, with only here and there a gapwhere some image had been removed for public disgrace, or had fallenominously, as Lorenzo's had done six months before. It was a perfectresurrection-swarm of remote mortals and fragments of mortals,reflecting, in their varying degrees of freshness, the sombre dinginessand sprinkled brightness of the crowd below.
Tito's glance wandered over the wild multitude in search of something.He had already thought of Tessa, and the white hoods suggested thepossibility that he might detect her face under one of them. It was atleast a thought to be courted, rather than the vision of Romola lookingat him with changed eyes. But he searched in vain; and he was leavingthe church, weary of a scene which had no variety, when, just againstthe doorway, he caught sight of Tessa, only two yards off him. She waskneeling with her back against the wall, behind a group ofpeasant-women, who were standing and looking for a spot nearer to thesacred image. Her head hung a little aside with a look of weariness,and her blue eyes were directed rather absently towards an altar-piecewhere the Archangel Michael stood in his armour, with young face andfloating hair, amongst bearded and tonsured saints. Her right-hand,holding a bunch of cocoons, fell by her side listlessly, and her roundcheek was paled, either by the light or by the weariness that wasexpressed in her attitude: her lips were pressed poutingly together, andevery now and then her eyelids half fell: she was a large image of asweet sleepy child. Tito felt an irresistible desire to go up to herand get her pretty trusting looks and prattle: this creature who waswithout moral judgment that could condemn him, whose little lovingignorant soul made a world apart, where he might feel in freedom fromsuspicions and exacting demands, had a new attraction for him now. Sheseemed a refuge from the threatened isolation that would come withdisgrace. He glanced cautiously round, to assure himself that MonnaGhita was not near, and then, slipping quietly to her side, kneeled onone knee, and said, in the softest voice, "Tessa!"
She hardly started, any more than she would have started at a softbreeze that fanned her gently when she was needing it. She turned herhead and saw Tito's face close to her: it was very much more beautifulthan the Archangel Michael's, who was so mighty and so good that helived with the Madonna and all the saints and was prayed to along withthem. She smiled in happy silence, for that nearness of Tito quitefilled her mind.
"My little Tessa! you look very tired. How long have you been kneelinghere?"
She seemed to be collecting her thoughts for a minute or two, and atlast she said--
"I'm very hungry."
"Come, then; come with me."
He lifted her from her knees, and led her out under the cloisterssurrounding the atrium, which were then open, and not yet adorned withthe frescoes of Andrea del Sarto.
"How is it you are all by yourself, and so hungry, Tessa?"
"The Madre is ill; she has very bad pains in her legs, and sent me tobring these cocoons to the Santissima Nunziata, because they're sowonderful; see!"--she held up the bunch of cocoons, which were arrangedwith fortuitous regularity on a stem,--"and she had kept them to bringthem herself, but she couldn't, and so she sent me because she thinksthe Holy Madonna may take away her pains; and somebody took my bag withthe bread and chestnuts in it, and the people pushed me back, and I wasso frightened coming in the crowd, and I couldn't get anywhere near theHoly Madonna, to give the cocoons to the Padre, but I must--oh, I must."
"Yes, my little Tessa, you shall take them; but first come and let megive you some berlingozzi. There are some to be had not far off."
"Where did you come from?" said Tessa, a little bewildered. "I thoughtyou would never come to me again, because you never came to the Mercatofor milk any more. I set myself Aves to say, to see if they would bringyou back, but I left off, because they didn't."
"You see I come when you want some one to take care of you, Tessa.Perhaps the Aves fetched me, only it took them a long while. But whatshall you do if you are here all alone? Where shall you go?"
"Oh, I shall stay and sleep in the church--a great many of them do--inthe church and all about here--I did once when I came with my mother;and the _patrigno_ is coming with the mules in the morning."
They were out in the piazza now, where the crowd was rather less riotousthan before, and the lights were fewer, the stream of pilgrims havingceased. Tessa clung fast to Tito's arm in satisfied silence, while heled her towards the stall where he remembered seeing the eatables.Their way was the easier because there was just now a great rush towardsthe middle of the piazza, where the masqued figures on stilts had foundspace to execute a dance. It was very pretty to see the guileless thinggiving her cocoons into Tito's hand, and then eating her berlingozziwith the relish of a hungry child. Tito had really come to take care ofher, as he did before, and that wonderful happiness of being with himhad begun again for her. Her hunger was soon appeased, all the soonerfor the new stimulus of happiness that had roused her from her languor,and, as they turned away from the stall, she said nothing about goinginto the church again, but looked round as if the sights in the piazzawere not without attraction to her now she was safe under Tito's arm.
"How can they do that?" she exclaimed, looking up at the dancers onstilts. Then, after a minute's silence, "Do you think Saint Christopherhelps them?"
"Perhaps. What do you think about it, Tessa?" said Tito, slipping hisright arm round her, and looking down at her fondly.
"Because Saint Christopher is so very tall; and he is very good: ifanybody looks at him he takes care of them all day. He is on the wallof the church--too tall to stand up there--but I saw him walking throughthe streets one San Giovanni, carrying the little Gesu."
"You pretty pigeon! Do you think anybody could help taking care of_you_, if you looked at them?"
"Shall you always come and take care of me?" said Tessa, turning herface up to him, as he crushed her cheek with his left-hand. "And shallyou always be a long while first?"
Tito was conscious that some bystanders were laughing at them, andthough the licence of street fun, among artists and young men of thewealthier sort as well as among the populace, made few adventuresexceptional, still less disreputable, he chose to move away towards theend of the piazza.
"Perhaps I shall come again to you very soon, Tessa," he answered,rather dreamily, when they had moved away. He was thinking that whenall the rest had turned their backs upon him, it would be pleasant tohave this little creature adoring him and nestling against him. Theabsence of presumptuous self-conceit in Tito made him feel all the moredefenceless under prospective obloquy: he needed soft looks and caressestoo much ever to be impudent.
"In the Mercato?" said Tessa. "Not to-morrow morning, because the_patrigno_ will be there, and he is so cross. Oh! but you have money,and he will not be cross if you bu
y some salad. And there are somechestnuts. Do you like chestnuts?"
He said nothing, but continued to look down at her with a dreamygentleness, and Tessa felt herself in a state of delicious wonder;everything seemed as new as if she were being earned on a chariot ofclouds.
"Holy Virgin!" she exclaimed again presently. "There is a holy fatherlike the Bishop I saw at Prato."
Tito looked up too, and saw that he had unconsciously advanced to withina few yards of the conjuror, Maestro Vaiano, who for the moment wasforsaken by the crowd. His face was turned away from them, and he wasoccupied with the apparatus on his altar or table, preparing a newdiversion by the time the interest in the dancing should be exhausted.The monkey was imprisoned under the red cloth, out of reach of mischief,and the youngster in the white surplice was holding a sort of dish orsalver, from which his master was taking some ingredient. Thealtar-like table, with its gorgeous cloth, the row of tapers, the shamepiscopal costume, the surpliced attendant, and even the movements ofthe mitred figure, as he alternately bent his head and then raisedsomething before the lights, were a sufficiently near parody of sacredthings to rouse poor little Tessa's veneration; and there was someadditional awe produced by the mystery of their apparition in this spot,for when she had seen an altar in the street before, it had been onCorpus Christi Day, and there had been a procession to account for it.She crossed herself and looked up at Tito, but then, as if she had hadtime for reflection, said, "It is because of the Nativita."
Meanwhile Vaiano had turned round, raising his hands to his mitre withthe intention of changing his dress, when his quick eye recognised Titoand Tessa who were both looking at him, their faces being shone upon bythe light of his tapers, while his own was in shadow.
"Ha! my children!" he said, instantly, stretching out his hands in abenedictory attitude, "you are come to be married. I commend yourpenitence--the blessing of Holy Church can never come too late."
But whilst he was speaking, he had taken in the whole meaning of Tessa'sattitude and expression, and he discerned an opportunity for a new kindof joke which required him to be cautious and solemn.
"Should you like to be married to me, Tessa?" said Tito, softly, halfenjoying the comedy, as he saw the pretty childish seriousness on herface, half prompted by hazy previsions which belonged to theintoxication of despair.
He felt her vibrating before she looked up at him and said, timidly,"Will you let me?"
He answered only by a smile, and by leading her forward in front of the_cerretano_, who, seeing an excellent jest in Tessa's evident delusion,assumed a surpassing sacerdotal solemnity, and went through the mimicceremony with a liberal expenditure of _lingua furbesca_ or thieves'Latin. But some symptoms of a new movement in the crowd urged him tobring it to a speedy conclusion and dismiss them with hands outstretchedin a benedictory attitude over their kneeling figures. Tito, disposedalways to cultivate goodwill, though it might be the least select, put apiece of four grossi into his hand as he moved away, and was thanked bya look which, the conjuror felt sure, conveyed a perfect understandingof the whole affair.
But Tito himself was very far from that understanding, and did not, infact, know whether, the next moment, he should tell Tessa of the jokeand laugh at her for a little goose, or whether he should let herdelusion last, and see what would come of it--see what she would say anddo next.
"Then you will not go away from me again," said Tessa, after they hadwalked a few steps, "and you will take me to where you live." She spokemeditatively, and not in a questioning tone. But presently she added,"I must go back once to the Madre though, to tell her I brought thecocoons, and that I am married, and shall not go back again."
Tito felt the necessity of speaking now; and in the rapid thoughtprompted by that necessity, he saw that by undeceiving Tessa he shouldbe robbing himself of some at least of that pretty trustfulness whichmight, by-and-by, be his only haven from contempt. It would spoil Tessato make her the least particle wiser or more suspicious.
"Yes, my little Tessa," he said, caressingly, "you must go back to theMadre; but you must not tell her you are married--you must keep that asecret from everybody; else some very great harm would happen to me, andyou would never see me again."
She looked up at him with fear in her face.
"You must go back and feed your goats and mules, and do just as you havealways done before, and say no word to any one about me."
The corners of her mouth fell a little.
"And then, perhaps, I shall come and take care of you again when youwant me, as I did before. But you must do just what I tell you, elseyou will not see me again."
"Yes, I will, I will," she said, in a loud whisper, frightened at thatblank prospect.
They were silent a little while; and then Tessa, looking at her hand,said--
"The Madre wears a betrothal ring. She went to church and had it puton, and then after that, an other day, she was married. And so did thecousin Nannina. But then _she_ married Gollo," added the poor littlething, entangled in the difficult comparison between her own ease andothers within her experience.
"But you must not wear a betrothal ring, my Tessa, because no one mustknow you are married," said Tito, feeling some insistance necessary."And the _buona fortuna_ that I gave you did just as well for betrothal.Some people are betrothed with rings and some are not."
"Yes, it is true, they would see the ring," said Tessa, trying toconvince herself that a thing she would like very much was really notgood for her.
They were now near the entrance of the church again, and she rememberedher cocoons which were still in Tito's hand.
"Ah, you must give me the _boto_," she said; "and we must go in, and Imust take it to the Padre, and I must tell the rest of my beads, becauseI was too tired before."
"Yes, you must go in, Tessa; but I will not go in. I must leave younow," said Tito, too feverish and weary to re-enter that stifling heat,and feeling that this was the least difficult way of parting with her.
"And not come back? Oh, where do you go?" Tessa's mind had neverformed an image of his whereabout or his doings when she did not seehim: he had vanished, and her thought, instead of following him, hadstayed in the same spot where he was with her.
"I shall come back some time, Tessa," said Tito, taking her under thecloisters to the door of the church. "You must not cry--you must go tosleep, when you have said your beads. And here is money to buy yourbreakfast. Now kiss me, and look happy, else I shall not come again."
She made a great effort over herself as she put up her lips to kiss him,and submitted to be gently turned round, with her face towards the doorof the church. Tito saw her enter; and then with a shrug at his ownresolution, leaned against a pillar, took off his cap, rubbed his hairbackward, and wondered where Romola was now, and what she was thinkingof him. Poor little Tessa had disappeared behind the curtain among thecrowd of peasants; but the love which formed one web with all hisworldly hopes, with the ambitions and pleasures that must make the solidpart of his days--the love that was identified with his larger self--wasnot to be banished from his consciousness. Even to the man who presentsthe most elastic resistance to whatever is unpleasant, there will comemoments when the pressure from without is too strong for him, and hemust feel the smart and the bruise in spite of himself. Such a momenthad come to Tito. There was no possible attitude of mind, no scheme ofaction by which the uprooting of all his newly-planted hopes could bemade otherwise than painful.