Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated)

by William Somerset Maugham

  ‘We came, we saw, and the enemy decamped,’ said Matteo.

  ‘And now, taking advantage of the peace, you have come to trouble the hearts of Forli,’ said Donna Giulia.

  ‘Who knows how useful your swords may not be here!’ remarked a young man.

  ‘Be quiet, Nicolo!’ said another, and there was an awkward silence, during which Matteo and I looked at one another in surprise; and then everyone burst out talking, so that you could not hear what was said.

  Matteo and I bowed ourselves away from Donna Giulia, and he took me to Checco, standing in a group of men.

  ‘You have recovered from your fatigue?’ he asked kindly.

  ‘You have been travelling, Matteo?’ said one of the company.

  ‘Yes, we rode sixty miles yesterday,’ he replied.

  ‘Sixty miles on one horse; you must have good steeds and good imaginations,’ said a big, heavy-looking man — an ugly, sallow-faced person, whom I hated at first sight.

  ‘It was only once in a way, and we wanted to get home.’

  ‘You could not have come faster if you had been running away from a battlefield,’ said the man.

  I thought him needlessly disagreeable, but I did not speak. Matteo had not cultivated the golden quality.

  ‘You talk as one who has had experience,’ he remarked, smiling in his most amiable manner.

  I saw Checco frown at Matteo, while the bystanders looked on interestedly.

  ‘I only said that,’ added the man, shrugging his shoulders, ‘because the Duke of Calabria is rather celebrated for his retreative tactics.’

  I entertained a very great respect for the Duke, who had always been a kind and generous master to me.

  ‘Perhaps you do not know very much about tactics,’ I remarked as offensively as I could.

  He turned and looked at me, as if to say, ‘Who the devil are you!’ He looked me up and down contemptuously, and I began to feel that I was almost losing my temper.

  ‘My good young man,’ he said, ‘I imagine that I was engaged in war when your battles were with your nursemaid.’

  ‘You have the advantage of me in courtesy as well as in years, sir,’ I replied. ‘But I might suggest that a man may fight all his life, and have no more idea of war at the end than at the beginning.’

  ‘It depends on the intelligence,’ remarked Matteo.

  ‘Exactly what I was thinking,’ said I.

  ‘What the devil do you mean?’ said the man, angrily.

  ‘I don’t suppose he means anything at all, Ercole,’ put in Checco, with a forced laugh.

  ‘He can answer for himself, I suppose,’ said the man. A flush came over Checco’s face, but he did not answer.

  ‘My good sir,’ I said, ‘you have to consider whether I choose to answer.’

  ‘Jackanapes!’

  I put my hand to my sword, but Checco caught hold of my arm. I recovered myself at once.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Messer Checco,’ I said; then, turning to the man, ‘You are safe in insulting me here. You show your breeding! Really, Matteo, you did not tell me that you had such a charming fellow-countryman.’

  ‘You are too hard on us, Filippo,’ answered my friend, ‘for such a monstrosity as that Forli is not responsible.’

  ‘I am no Forlivese, thank God! Neither the Count nor I.’ He looked round scornfully. ‘We offer up thanks to the Almighty every time the fact occurs to us. I am a citizen of Castello.’

  Matteo was going to burst out, but I anticipated him. ‘I, too, am a citizen of Castello; and allow me to inform you that I consider you a very insolent fellow, and I apologise to these gentlemen that a countryman of mine should forget the courtesy due to the city which is sheltering him.’

  ‘You a Castelese! And, pray, who are you?’

  ‘My name is Filippo Brandolini.’

  ‘I know your house. Mine is Ercole Piacentini.’

  ‘I cannot return the compliment; I have never heard of yours.’

  The surrounders laughed.

  ‘My family is as good as yours, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Really, I have no acquaintance with the middle-classes of Castello; but I have no doubt it is respectable.’

  I noticed that the listeners seemed very contented, and I judged that Messer Ercole Piacentini was not greatly loved in Forli; but Checco was looking on anxiously.

  ‘You insolent young boy!’ said the man, furiously. ‘How dare you talk to me like that. I will kick you!’

  I put my hand to my sword to draw it, for I was furious too; I pulled at the hilt, but I felt a hand catch hold of mine and prevent me. I struggled; then I heard Checco in my ear.

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ he said. ‘Be quiet!’

  ‘Let me be!’ I cried.

  ‘Don’t be a fool! You’ll ruin us.’ He held my sword, so that I could not draw it.

  Ercole saw what was going on; his lips broke into a sarcastic smile.

  ‘You are being taught the useful lesson of discretion, young man. You are not the only one who has learnt it.’ He looked round at the bystanders....

  At that moment a servant came to Checco and announced, —

  ‘The Count!’

  The group broke up, and Checco advanced to the further end of the hall, with Ercole Piacentini and several other gentlemen. Matteo and I lingered where we were. There was a rustle, and the Count and Countess appeared attended by their suite.

  First of all my eyes were attracted to Caterina; she was wonderfully beautiful. A tall, well-made woman, holding herself proudly, her head poised on the neck like a statue.

  ‘One would think she was a king’s daughter!’ said Matteo, looking at her with astonishment.

  ‘It is almost Francesco’s face,’ I said.

  We both had an immense admiration for Francesco Sforza, the King of Condottieri, who had raised himself from a soldier of fortune to the proudest duchy in the world. And Caterina, his natural daughter, had the same clear, strong features, the strong piercing eyes, but instead of the Sforza’s pock-marked skin, she had a complexion of rare delicacy and softness; and afterwards she proved that she had inherited her father’s courage as well as his appearance.... She was dressed in a gorgeous robe of silver cloth, glittering and shimmering as she walked, and her hair was done in her favourite manner, intertwined with gold and silver threads; but the wonderful chestnut outshone the brilliant metals, seeming to lend them beauty rather than to borrow it. I heard her speak, and her voice was low and full like a man’s.

  Matteo and I stood looking at her for a minute; then we both broke out ‘Per Bacco, she is beautiful!’

  I began thinking of the fairy stories I had heard of Caterina at Rome, where she had enchanted everyone by her loveliness; and Sixtus had squandered the riches of the Church to satisfy her whims and fancies: banquets, balls, pageants and gorgeous ceremonies; the ancient city had run red with wine and mad with delight of her beauty.

  Suddenly Matteo said to me, ‘Look at Girolamo!’

  I lifted my eyes, and saw him standing quite close to me — a tall man, muscular and strong, with big heavy face, and prominent jaw bones, the nose long and hooked, small keen eyes, very mobile. His skin was unpleasant, red and coarse; like his wife, he was dressed with great magnificence.

  ‘One sees the sailor grandfather in him,’ I said, remembering that Sixtus’s father, the founder of the family, was a common sailor at Rovese.

  He was talking to Checco, who was apparently speaking to him of us, for he turned and stepped forward to Matteo.

  ‘The prodigal has returned,’ he said. ‘We will not fail to kill the fatted calf. But this time you must stay with us, Matteo; we can give you service as well as the Duke of Calabria.’

  Matteo smiled grimly; and the Count turned to me.

  ‘Checco has told me of you also, sir; but I fear there is no chance of keeping you, you are but a bird of passage — still, I hope you will let us make you welcome at the Palace.’

  All the time he was speaking
his eyes kept moving rapidly up and down, all round me, and I felt he was taking in my whole person.... After these few words he smiled, a harsh, mechanical smile, meant to be gracious, and with a courteous bow moved on. I turned to Matteo and saw him looking after the Count very sourly.

  ‘What is it,’ I asked.

  ‘He is devilish condescending,’ he answered. ‘When last I was here it was hail fellow, well met, but, good God! he’s put on airs since then!’

  ‘Your cousin said something to the same effect,’ I remarked.

  ‘Yes, I understand what he meant now.’

  We strolled round the room, looking at the people and talking.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘there’s a handsome woman!’ pointing to a voluptuous beauty, a massive creature, full-brested and high-coloured.

  ‘Your eye is drawn to a handsome woman like steel to a magnet, Filippo,’ answered Matteo, laughing.

  ‘Introduce me,’ I said, ‘if she is not ferocious.’

  ‘By no means; and she has probably already fixed her eyes upon you. But she is wife to Ercole Piacentini.’

  ‘I don’t care. I mean to kill the man afterwards; but that is no reason why I should not make myself pleasant to his spouse.’

  ‘You will do her a service in both ways,’ he replied; and, going up to her, ‘Claudia,’ he said, ‘your fatal eyes have transfixed another heart.’

  Her sensual lips broke into a smile.

  ‘Have they that power?’ She fixed them on me, and made room on the couch on which she was sitting. Neither Matteo nor I were slow to take the hint, for I took my place and he his leave. ‘I wonder you have not already fallen victim to Madonna Giulia,’ said Claudia, looking languorously at me, and glancing over to the other lady.

  ‘One does not worship the moon when the sun is shining,’ I replied politely.

  ‘Giulia is more like the sun, for she gathers all men in her embrace. I am more modest.’

  I understood that the rival beauties were not good friends.

  ‘You boast that you are cruel,’ I replied. She did not answer, but sighed deeply, smiling, and fixed on me her great, liquid eyes.

  ‘Oh, there is my husband.’ I looked up and saw the great Ercole glaring viciously at me. I laughed within myself.

  ‘He must be very jealous of so beautiful a wife?’ I asked.

  ‘He torments me to death.’

  Under these circumstances I thought I would pursue my advantage; I pressed closer to her.

  ‘I can understand it: the first moment I saw you, I felt my head whirl.’

  She gave me a very long glance from beneath her eyelashes. I seized her hand.

  ‘Those eyes!’ I said, looking into them fervently.

  ‘Ah!’ she sighed again.

  ‘Madam,’ said a pageboy, coming up to her, ‘Messer Piacentini begs that you will come to him.’

  She gave a little cry of annoyance.

  ‘My husband!’ Then, rising from her seat, she turned to me, holding out her hand; I immediately offered my arm, and we solemnly crossed the room to Ercole Piacentini. Here she bowed very graciously to me, and I smiled on the happy husband with the utmost sweetness, while he looked very grim and took not the faintest notice of me; then I marched off, feeling particularly pleased with myself.

  The Count and Countess were on the point of taking their departure: they were followed by Ercole and his wife; the remaining guests soon went, and in a little while there were left only Matteo and myself, two other men and Checco.

  III

  CHECCO led us to a smaller room, at some distance from the great hall of the reception; then, turning to a man I did not know, he said, ‘Did you hear the Piacentini?’

  ‘Yes!’ he answered; and for a moment they looked at one another silently.

  ‘He would not have been so bold without good cause,’ added the man.

  I was told that his name was Lodovico Pansecchi, and that he was a soldier in the Count’s pay.

  Checco turned round and looked at me sharply. Matteo understood what he meant, and said, ‘Have no fear of Filippo; he is as safe as myself.’

  Checco nodded, and made a sign to a youth, who immediately rose and carefully closed the door. We sat still for a while; then Checco stood up and said impatiently, ‘I cannot understand it.’ He walked up and down the room, stopping at last in front of me.

  ‘You had never seen that man before?’

  ‘Never!’ I answered.

  ‘The quarrel was brought on solely by Ercole himself,’ said the youth, whom I found to be Alessandro Moratini, a brother of Giulia dall’ Aste.

  ‘I know,’ said Checco, ‘but he would never have dared to behave thus unless he knew of some design of Girolamo.’ He paused a moment to think, then turning to me again, ‘You must not challenge him.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ I replied, ‘I must challenge him; he has insulted me.’

  ‘I don’t care about that. I will not have you challenge him.’

  ‘This concerns myself alone.’

  ‘Nonsense! You are a guest of my house, and for all I know it is just such an opportunity as this that Girolamo is seeking.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said.

  ‘Listen,’ said Checco, sitting down again. ‘When Sixtus obtained possession of Forli for his nephew, Girolamo Riario, I, like the fool I was, did all I could to bring the town to his allegiance. My father was against the plan, but I bore down his opposition and threw the whole power of my house on his side. Without me he would never have been Lord of Forli.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Matteo. ‘You used Sixtus to keep the Ordelaffi out; and you thought Girolamo would be a catspaw in our hands.’

  ‘I did not give the city for love of a person I had never seen in my life.... Well, this was eight years ago. Girolamo took off the heaviest taxes, granted favours to the town and entered in solemn state with Caterina.’

  ‘Amid shouts and cheers,’ remarked Alessandro.

  ‘For a while he was more popular than ever the Ordelaffi had been, and when he went out the people ran to kiss the hem of his garment. He spent the great part of his time in Rome, but he employed the riches of the Pope in beautifying Forli, and when he came it was one round of feasts and balls and gaiety.

  ‘Then Pope Sixtus died, and Girolamo settled here for good in the palace which he had commenced building on his accession. The feasts and balls and gaiety continued. Whenever a distinguished stranger passed through the town, he was welcomed by the Count and his wife with the most lavish hospitality; so that Forli became renowned for its luxury and riches.

  ‘The poets ransacked Parnassus and the ancients for praises of their rules, and the people echoed the panegyrics of the poet....

  ‘Then came the crash. I had often warned Girolamo, for we were intimate friends — then. I told him that he could not continue the splendour which he had used when the wealth of Christendom was at his command, when he could spend the tribute of a nation on a necklace for Caterina. He would not listen. It was always, “I cannot be mean and thrifty,” and he called it policy. “To be popular,” he said, “I must be magnificent.” The time came when the Treasury was empty, and he had to borrow. He borrowed in Rome and Florence and Milan — and all the time he would not retrench, but rather, as his means became less, the extravagance became greater; but when he could borrow no more outside, he came to the citizens of Forli, first, of course, to me, and I repeatedly lent him large sums. These were not enough, and he sent for the richest men of Forli and asked them to lend him money. Naturally they could not refuse. But he squandered their money as he had squandered his own; and one fine day he assembled the Council.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Alessandro, ‘I was there then. I heard him speak.’

  Checco stopped as if for Alessandro.

  ‘He came to the Council chamber, clad as usual in the richest robes, and began talking privately to the senators, very courteously — laughing with them, shaking their hands. Then, going to his place, he
began to speak. He talked of his liberality towards them, and the benefits he had conferred on the town; showed them his present necessities, and finally asked them to re-impose the taxes which he had taken off at the beginning of his reign. They were all prejudiced against him, for many of them had already lent him money privately, but there was such a charm in his discourse, he was so persuasive, that one really could not help seeing the reasonableness of his demand. I know I myself would have granted him whatever he asked.’

  ‘He can make one do anything he likes when he once begins talking,’ said Lodovico.

  ‘The Council unanimously voted the re-imposition of the taxes, and Girolamo offered them his thanks in his most gracious manner.’

  There was a silence, broken by Matteo.

  ‘And then?’ he asked.

  ‘Then,’ answered Checco, ‘he went to Imola, and commenced spending there the money that he was gathering here.’

  ‘And what did they think of it in Forli?’

  ‘Ah, when the time came to pay the taxes they ceased their praises of Girolamo. First they murmured beneath their breath, then out loud; and soon they cursed him and his wife. The Count heard of it and came back from Imola, thinking, by his presence, to preserve the town in its allegiance. But the fool did not know that the sight of him would redouble the anger of the populace. They saw his gorgeous costumes, the gold and silver dresses of his wife, the jewels, the feasting and riotry, and they knew that it came out of their pockets; the food of their children, all that they had toiled and worked for, was spent on the insane luxury of this papal favourite and his bastard wife.’

  ‘And how has he treated us?’ cried Lodovico, beating his fist violently down on the table. ‘I was in the pay of the Duke of Calabria, and he made me tempting offers, so that I left the armies of Naples to enter the papal service under him. And now, for four years, I have not received a penny of my salary, and when I ask him, he puts me aside with gentle words, and now he does not even trouble to give me them. A few days back I stopped him in the piazza, and, falling on my knees, begged for what he owed me. He threw me violently away, and said he could not pay me — and the jewel on his breast was worth ten times the money he owed me. And now he looks at me with frowns, me who have served him faithfully as a dog. I will not endure it; by God! I will not.’ He clenched his fists as he spoke, trembling with rage.