IV
Next day we went to Donna Giulia's.
'Who is she?' I asked Matteo, as we walked along.
'A widow!' he answered shortly.
'Further?' I asked.
'The scandal of Forli!'
'Most interesting; but how has she gained her reputation?'
'How do I know?' he answered, laughing; 'how do women usually gain theirreputations? She drove Giovanni dall' Aste into his grave; her rivalssay she poisoned him--but that is a cheerful libel, probably due toClaudia Piacentini.'
'How long has she been a widow?'
'Five or six years.'
'And how has she lived since then?'
Matteo shrugged his shoulders.
'As widows usually live!' he answered. 'For my part, I really cannot seewhat inducement a woman in that position has to be virtuous. After all,one is only young once, and had better make the best use of one's youthwhile it lasts.'
'But has she no relations?'
'Certainly; she has a father and two brothers. But they hear nothing orcare nothing. Besides, it may be only scandal after all.'
'You talked as if it were a fact,' I said.
'Oh, no; I only say that if it is not a fact she is a very foolishwoman. Now that she has a bad reputation, it would be idiotic not tolive up to it.'
'You speak with some feeling,' I remarked, laughing.
'Ah,' answered Matteo, with another shrug of the shoulders, 'I laidsiege to the fort of her virtue--and she sallied and retired, and minedand countermined, advanced and drew back, so that I grew weary andabandoned the attack. Life is not long enough to spend six months inpoliteness and flattery, and then not be sure of the reward at the end.'
'You have a practical way of looking at things.'
'With me, you know, one woman is very like another. It comes to the samein the end; and after one has kicked about the world for a few years,one arrives at the conclusion that it it does not much matter if they bedark or fair, fat or thin....'
'Did you tell all this to Donna Giulia?' I asked.
'More or less.'
'What did she think of it?'
'She was cross for a while. She wished she had yielded sooner, when itwas too late; it served her right!'
We had arrived at the house, and were ushered in. Donna Giulia greetedus very politely, gave me a glance, and began talking again to herfriends. One could see that the men round her were more or less inlove, for they followed every motion with their eyes, disputing hersmiles, which she scattered in profusion, now upon one, now uponanother.... I saw she delighted in adulation, for the maker of any neatcompliment was always rewarded with a softer look and a more charmingsmile.
Matteo surpassed the others in the outrageousness of his flattery; Ithought she must see that he was laughing at her, but she acceptedeverything he said quite seriously, and was evidently much pleased.
'Are you not glad to be back in Forli?' she said to him.
'We all delight to tread the ground you walk on.'
'You have grown very polite during your absence.'
'What other result could have been, when I spent my time thinking of thelovely Giulia.'
'I am afraid you had other thoughts in Naples: they say that there thewomen are all beautiful.'
'Naples! My dear lady, I swear that during all the time I have been awayI have never seen a face to compare with yours.'
Her eyes quite shone with pleasure. I turned away, finding theconversation silly. I thought I would do without the pleasant looks ofMadonna Giulia, and I decided not to come to her again. Meanwhile, Ibegan talking to one of the other ladies in the room and passed the timeagreeably enough.... In a little while Giulia passed me, leaning on thearm of one of her admirers. I saw her glance at me, but I took nonotice. Immediately afterwards she came again, hesitating a moment, asif she wished to say something, but passed on without speaking. Ithought she was piqued at my inattention to her, and, with a smile,redoubled my attentions to the lady with whom I was talking.
'Messer Filippo!' Donna Giulia called me, 'if you are not too engaged,will you speak to me for one moment?'
I approached her smiling.
'I am anxious to hear of your quarrel with Ercole Piacentini. I haveheard quite ten different stories.'
'I am surprised that the insolence of an ill-bred fellow should rousesuch interest.'
'We must talk of something in Forli. The only thing I hear for certainis that he insulted you, and you were prevented from gettingsatisfaction.'
'That will come later.'
She lowered her voice and took my arm.
'But my brother tells me that Checco d'Orsi has made you promise to donothing.'
'I shall get my revenge--having to wait for it will only make itsweeter.'
Then, supposing she had nothing further to say to me, I stood still, asif expecting her to leave me. She looked up suddenly.
'Am I incommoding you?' she said.
'How could you!' I replied gallantly.
'I thought you wanted to get rid of me.'
'How can such an idea have entered your head? Do you not see that allmen lie humble at your feet, attentive to every word and gesture?'
'Yes,' she answered, 'but not you!'
Of course I protested.
'Oh,' she said, 'I saw very well that you avoided me. When you came inhere--you hardly came near me.'
'I did not think you would notice my inattention.'
'Certainly I noticed it; I was afraid I had offended you. I could notthink how.'
'My dear lady, you have certainly done nothing to offend me.'
'Then, why do you avoid me?' she asked petulantly.
'Really,' I said, 'I don't. Perhaps in my modesty I thought it would bea matter of indifference to you whether I was at your side or not. I amsorry I have annoyed you.'
'I don't like people not to like me,' she said in a plaintive way.
'But why should you think I do not like you? Indeed, without flattery, Ican assure you that I think you one of the most beautiful women I haveever seen.'
A faint blush came over her cheeks, and a smile broke out on her lips;she looked up at me with a pretty reproachful air.
'Then, why don't you let me see it more plainly?'
I smiled, and, looking into her eyes, was struck by their velvetsoftness. I almost thought she was as charming as she was beautiful.
'Do you really wish to know?' I said, in reply to her question.
'Do tell me!' she said, faintly pressing my arm.
'I thought you had so many admirers that you could well do without me.'
'But, you see,' she answered charmingly, 'I cannot!'
'And then I have a certain dislike to losing myself in a crowd. I didnot wish to share your smiles with twenty others.'
'And would you for that refuse them altogether?'
'I have always avoided the woman who is the object of generaladmiration. I think I am too proud to struggle for favours; I wouldrather dispense with them.'
'But, then, supposing the lady wishes to favour you especially, you donot give her the opportunity.'
'That is so rare,' I replied, 'that it is not worth while breaking therule.'
'But it may happen.'
I shrugged my shoulders. She paused a moment, and then said,--
'You do like me, then, after all?'
I saw a slight trembling of the lip, perhaps the eyes were a littlemoist. I felt sorry for what I had done.
'I fear I have given you pain,' I said.
'You have a little,' she replied.
'I am sorry. I thought you did not care.'
'I like people to love me and be pleased with me.'
'I do both!'
'Then you must show it,' she replied, a smile breaking through thebeginning of tears.
I really had been brutal, and I was very sorry that I had caused a cloudto gather over her sunshiny nature. She was indeed very sweet andcharming.
'Well, we are good friends now, aren't w
e?' she said.
'Of course.'
'And you'll come and see me often?'
'As often as you will allow me to,' I answered. She gave me her hand tokiss, and a bright, happy smile lit up her face.
'_A rivederci!_' she said.
We went home, and Matteo found waiting for him a message from Checco,bidding him leave the inn and take up his quarters with me at thePalazzo Orsi. On arriving, we found Checco excitedly walking up and downa long corridor lined with statues and pictures.
'I am glad you have come,' he said to Matteo, taking his hand andnodding. 'You must stay here; we must all keep together now, foranything may happen.'
'What do you mean?' asked Matteo.
'The catastrophe nearly came to-day.'
We both looked at him with astonishment, not comprehending. Checco stoodstill abruptly.
'He tried to arrest me to-day--Girolamo!' Then, speaking very quickly,as if labouring under great excitement, 'I had to go to the Palace onbusiness. I found him in the audience chamber, and we began to talkcertain matters over, and I grew rather heated. Suddenly I noticed thatthe place had emptied itself. I stopped in the midst of my sentence andlooked up at Girolamo. I saw he was not attending to me; his eyes werefixed on the door.'
Checco was silent, and drops of perspiration were standing on hisforehead.
'Yes! Yes!' we both said eagerly.
'The door opened, and the Master of the Guard walked in. "By God!" Ithought, "I'm trapped!" "I have been waiting for you, Andrea," saidGirolamo. Then he turned to me, and said, "Come into the Room of theNymphs, Checco. I have some papers there to show you." He took hold ofmy arm. I loosed myself. "I pray you, excuse me," I said, "I have somevery urgent business." I walked to the door. Andrea glanced at hismaster, and I thought he was going to bar my way; I think he was waitingfor some sign, but before it came I had seen through the open door PaoloBruni, and I called out, "Paolo, Paolo, wait for me. I want to talk toyou urgently." Then I knew I was safe; he dared not touch me; and Iturned round and said again, "I pray you, excuse me; my business withPaolo is a matter of life or death." I brushed past Andrea and got out.By Heaven! how I breathed when I found myself in the piazza!'
'But are you sure he meant to arrest you?' said Matteo.
'Certain; what else?'
'Andrea might have come in by accident. There may have been nothing init at all.'
'I was not deceived,' answered Checco, earnestly. 'Their looks betrayedthem--Andrea's questioning glance. I know he wants to kill me.'
'But would he dare seize you in cold blood?'
'He cares for nothing when he has an object in view. Besides, when hehad me in his power, what could have been done? I know Girolamo toowell. There would have been a mock trial, and I should have beencondemned. Or else he would have me strangled in my cell, and when I hadgone you would have been helpless--my father is too old, and there wouldhave been no leader to the party but you--and what could you do alone?'
We all remained silent for a while, then Checco broke out.
'I know he wants to rid himself of me. He has threatened before, but hasnever gone so far as this.'
'I agree with you,' said Matteo; 'things are becoming grave.'
'It is not so much for myself I care; but what would happen to mychildren? My father is safe--he is so old and helpless that they wouldnever think of touching him--but my boys? Caterina would throw them intoprison without a scruple.'
'Well,' said Matteo, 'what will you do?'
'What can I do?' he answered. 'I have been racking my brains, and I seeno way of safety. I can wear a coat of mail to preserve me from thestray knife of an assassin, but that will not help me against a troop ofsoldiers. I can leave Forli, but that is to abandon everything.'
'No, you must not leave Forli--anything but that!'
'What can I do? What can I do?' he stamped his foot on the ground as ifalmost in desperation.
'One thing,' said Matteo, 'you must not go about alone--always with atleast two friends.'
'Yes, I have thought of that. But how will it all turn out; it cannotlast. What can I do?'
He turned to me.
'What do you think?' he said. 'He means to kill me.'
'Why not anticipate him?' I answered quietly.
They both started up with a cry.
'Kill him!'
'Assassination! I dare not, I dare not,' said Checco, very excitedly. 'Iwill do all I can by fair means, but assassination--'
I shrugged my shoulders.
'It seems a matter of self-preservation,' I said.
'No, no; I won't speak of it! I won't think of it.' He began again towalk excitedly up and down the room. 'I won't think of it, I tell you. Icould not.'
Neither Matteo nor I spoke.
'Why don't you speak?' he said to Matteo, impatiently.
'I am thinking,' he answered.
'Not of that; I forbid you to think of that. I will not have it.' Then,after a pause, abruptly, as if he were angry with us and with himself,'Leave me!'
The Making of a Saint Page 5