CHAPTER II
Apollo Vindex
The Conte Leandro Lombardoni had not passed a pleasant Carnival.Reconciled, as he had recently professed himself to be--after some oneof the frequent misfortunes that happened to his intercourse withthem--with the fair sex, he had begun his Carnival by attempting to makehis merit acceptable in the eyes of La Lalli; and had failed to obtainany recognition from her, even as a poet, to say nothing of hispretensions as a Don Juan. To a certain limited degree, it had beenforced upon his perception, that he had been making an ass of himself;and the appreciation of that fact by the other young men among whom helived had been indicated with that coarse brutality, as the poet said tohimself, which was the outcome of minds not "softened by the study ofthe ingenuous arts," as his own was. He had been consistently snubbedand flouted, he and his poetry, and his love-making, and his carefullyprepared Carnival costumes.
The result was, that at the ball on that last night of the Carnival, theConte Leandro was not in charity with all men, and, indeed, hardly withany man. He was feeling very sore, and would fain have avenged his painby making any one else feel equally sore, if he had it in his power todo so.
He was especially angry with Ludovico di Castelmare. Had he not chaffedhim unmercifully about the verses he had sent to La Bianca? Was it not,to all appearance, due to him that the Diva had never condescended tocast a glance on either him or his poetry? Had he not called him Aesop,when it was plain to all the world that he represented Apollo? And nowthis night, again, he had taken the opportunity of turning him intoridicule in the presence of La Bianca; and he and she had spoken of thepossibility of their being troubled with his company as of a nightmare.For the painful fact was that their uncomplimentary expressions had beenheard by the poet; who, when he had left Ludovico and Bianca in thelittle supper-room together, had retreated no further than just to theother side of a curtain, which hung, Italian fashion, by the side of theopen door. Finding that there was nobody there--for the little buffetwas at the end of the entire suite of rooms, and all those who were noteither in the ball-room, or in the card-room, were at that moment in theprincipal supper-room--it had seemed well to the Conte Leandro, in hisdudgeon and spite against all the world, to ensconce himself quietlybehind the curtain, and hear what use Ludovico and Bianca would make oftheir tete-a-tete.
The first advantage he obtained was to hear himself spoken of as anightmare; and that naturally: prompted him to prick up his ears to hearmore. But when he had thus learned the whole secret of the projectedexpedition, it struck him, as well worth considering, whether theremight not be found in this the means of making his tormentor pay him forsome of the annoyances he had suffered at his hands.
So! the Marchese Ludovico, who ought to be paying his addresses to theContessa Violante in the sight of all Ravenna--the Contessa ViolanteMarliani was great niece of the Cardinal Legate, between whom and theMarchese Ludovico their respective families had projected analliance--was, instead of that, going off on a partie fine with thenotorious Bianca Lalli! A tete-a-tete in the Pineta! Mighty fine,indeed! So sure, too, that nobody in the world would find them out onAsh Wednesday morning! And he is to be at her door at six o'clock in themorning! Very good! Capitally well arranged--were it not that LeandroLombardoni may perhaps think fit to put a spoke in the wheel.
A little further consideration of the manner in which such spoke mightbe most effectually supplied, decided the angry and maliciouspoet--(poets, like women, will become malicious when scorned)--to seekout the Marchese Lamberto, whom he thought he should probably find inthe card-room. For though the Marchese was no great card-player, andnever touched a card in his own house, he was wont, at the Circolo, onsuch occasions as the present, to cast in his lot with those who soconsoled themselves for the years that made the ball-room no longertheir proper territory.
But the Conte Leandro did not find the Marchese among the card-players.
The events of the evening had already thrown him back again into a verymiserable state of mind, from which the Marchese had been suffering suchtorments as the jealous only know, during all the latter half of theCarnival. It was strange that such a man as the Marchese Lamberto--itwould have seemed passing strange to any of those his fellow-citizenswho had known him, thoroughly as they supposed, all his life; verystrange that such a man, so calm, so judicious, so little liable to thegusts of passion of any sort; a man, the even tenor of whosewell-regulated life had ever been such as to expose him rather to thecharge of almost apathetic placidity of temper, should thus suddenly, inthe full meridian time of his mature years, become subject to suchviolent oscillations of passion; to such buffetings by storms, blowingnow from one and now from the opposite quarter of the sky. But no lengthof prosperous navigation in the quiet waters of a land-locked harbourwill give evidence of the vessel's fitness to encounter the storms andthe waves of the open sea. The storm-wind of a strong passion had, allat once for the first time, blown in upon the sheltered harbour in whichthat placid life had been led.
And yet that storm-wind did not produce the same effect, as it wouldhave produced, and is seen to produce every day on the strong,wide-spread canvas of some young navigator on the ocean of life, puttingout into the open waters at the time when such storms are frequent.Every day we see such craft scudding with all sails spread before theblast without attempt at reefing or tacking. Right ahead they drivebefore the wind with no doubtful course. But it was not and could not beso in the case of the Marchese Lamberto. The whole habits of a life--theways, notions, hopes, desires, ambitions, that time had made into a partof the nature of the man; the passions, which though calm and unviolentin their nature, had become strong, not by forcible energy, but by thedeep and unconscious sinking of their roots into the depths of hischaracter--all these things opposed a resistance to the new andsuddenly-loosed passion-wind, such as that which the deep-rooted oakopposes to the tempest with no result of conquering it, only with theresult of causing its own leaves and branches to be buffeted to and fro,torn, broken, and wrecked.
Thus it was that the unhappy Marchese was violently driven to and frofrom hour to hour between the extremities of love and hate, till hisbrain reeled in the terrible conflict; and alternate attraction andrepulsion bandied his soul backwards and forwards between them.
A ball-room is not a pleasant exercise-ground for a jealous man who doesnot dance. No "bolgia" of the hell invented by the sombre imagination ofthe great poet could have surpassed, in torment, the Circolo ball-roomon that last Carnival night to the Marchese Lamberto.
The sight of the sorceress who had bewitched him, as he watched her inthe dance, had once again scattered to the winds all resolution, allhope of the possibility of escaping from the toils. What was all elsethat he desired to be put in comparison with that raging, craving desirethat he felt and sickened with for her? That was what he reallywanted--what he must have or die. It was madness to see her, as he sawher then, in the arms of other men, laughing, sparkling, brilliant withanimation and enjoyment. Worst hell of all to see her thus with hisnephew, her admiration for whom she had frankly confessed; whose wayswith women he knew, and whose intimacy with Bianca had already becomesuspicious to him.
Yet not the less did he stand and gaze, as they danced together, clearlythe handsomest and best-matched couple in the room--matched so admirablyevidently by design and forethought.
He had seen Ludovico and Bianca leave the ball-room, after the lastdance, together with the crowd of most of those who had been joining init, and had begun fluttering, poor moth, after the irresistibleattraction, to follow them towards the supper-room. Missing sight ofthem in the throng for a minute, he had followed on to the principalsupper-room, and not finding them there (for the reason the reader wotsof) had returned on his steps, and was sitting on the end of a divan, bythe door of the next room to the ball-room, through which all had topass who wished to go thence to the supper-room. There were peoplepassing through the centre of the room from door to door; but there wasno other, save the Marchese,
sitting down in it.
There the Conte Leandro found him, and came and sat down by his side;much, at first, to the Marchese's annoyance.
"What! you not in the supper-room, Signor Leandro. I thought your placewas always there?" said the Marchese.
"I'm no greater a supper-eater than another; let them say what theyplease. But I have just been getting a glass of wine and a biscuit inthe little supper-room at the further end there."
"What, are there two supper-rooms? I did not know that!"
"Only a buffet in the little room at the end, where the papers generallyare. It was mainly Ludovico's doing,--in order to have less crowd in thesupper-room,--and perhaps to have a quiet place for a tete-a-tete supperhimself. Oh! I knew better than not to clear out, when he and La DivaBianca came in; specially as there was nobody else there. Faith! I leftthem there alone together."
"Oh! that's where he is supping, then?" said the Marchese, in the mostunconcerned tone he could manage.
"Yes; supping,--or enjoying himself in some other way, quite asdelightful. The fact is, Signor Marchese," continued the poet, in alowered voice, and rapidly glancing around to see that there were noears within such a distance as to overhear his words,--"the fact is,that I am afraid Signor Ludovico is less cautious than it would be wellfor him to be, circumstanced as he is! I am sure I did not want tolisten to what he and the Lalli were saying to each other. It is nothingto me. But they spoke with such little precaution, that I could not helpoverhearing what they said; and what do you think Ludovico is up tonow?"
"How should I know!" said the Marchese, with the tips of his pale lips;for he was grinding his teeth together to prevent them from chatteringin his head.
"He is off at six o'clock to-morrow morning tete-a-tete with La Bianca,on an excursion to the Pineta. Coming it strong, isn't it?"
"To-morrow morning!" said the Marchese under his breath, and withdifficulty; for his blood seemed suddenly to rush back cold to hisheart, and he was shivering all over.
"Niente meno! I heard them arrange it all. He is to slip away from theball presently, in order to make all needful preparations, and to be ather door with a bagarino at six o'clock in the morning. Doing the thingnicely, isn't it?"
For a minute or two the Marchese was utterly unable to answer him aword. His head swam round. He felt sick. A cold perspiration broke outall over him; and he feared that he should have fallen from his seat.
"He is a great fool for his pains," he said at last, mastering himselfby a great effort, sufficiently to enable himself to utter the words inan ordinary voice and manner.
"Well, it seemed to me a mad scheme, considering all things. And thetruth is, that I thought your lordship would very likely think it wellto put a stop to it. And that is why I have bored your lordship bymentioning it to you."
"At six o'clock, you say?" asked the Marchese.
"Yes; that was the hour they fixed. Then he is to drive her to afarm-house on the border of the forest, leave the bagarino there, and gointo the wood for a stroll. Not a bad idea for a wind-up of theCarnival, upon my word!"
"I think you have done very wisely and kindly in telling me this, SignorConte," said the Marchese, in as quiet tones as he could command; "andif you will complete your kindness by saying no word of it to anybodyelse, I shall esteem myself much obliged to you."
"Oh! for that you may depend on me, Signor Marchese. I should never havethought of mentioning it to you, but for thinking that it would be areal kindness to Ludovico to put a stop to it."
"Thanks, Signor Conte. A rivederla!" said the Marchese, rising.
"Felicissima notte, Signor Marchese," returned Leandro, rising also, andbowing to his companion.
A Siren Page 2