XI
I was so happy. The world went on; things happened in Forli, the rivalparties agitated and met together and discussed; there was a generalferment--and to it all I was profoundly indifferent. What matter all thepetty little affairs of life? I said. People work and struggle, plot,scheme, make money, lose it, conspire for place and honour; they havetheir ambitions and hopes; but what is it all beside love? I had enteredinto the excitement of politics in Forli; I was behind the veil and knewthe intricacies, the ambitions, the emotions of the actors; but now Iwithdrew myself. What did I care about the prospects of Forli, whethertaxes were put on or taken off, or whether A killed B or B killed A, itreally seemed so unimportant. I looked upon them as puppets performingon a stage, and I could not treat their acts with seriousness. Giulia!That was the great fact in life. Nothing mattered to me but Giulia. WhenI thought of Giulia my heart was filled with ecstasy, and I spat withscorn on all the silly details of events.
I would willingly have kept myself out of the stream which was carryingalong the others; but I could not help knowing what happened. And it wasindeed ridiculous. After the great scene at the Palace people had begunto take steps as if for big events. Checco had sent a large sum of moneyto Florence for the Medici to take care of; Bartolomeo Moratini had madepreparations; there were generally a stir and unrest. Girolamo wassupposed to be going to take some step; people were prepared foreverything; when they woke up in the morning they asked if aught hadtaken place in the night; and Checco wore a coat of mail. On the Count'sside people were asking what Checco meant to do, whether the ovation hehad received would encourage him to any violent step. All the world wasagog for great events--and nothing happened. It reminded me of a mysteryplay in which, after great preparation of dialogue, some great stageeffect is going to be produced--a saint is going to ascend to heaven, ora mountain is to open and the devil spring out. The spectators aresitting open-mouthed; the moment has come, everything is ready, thesignal is given; the mob have already drawn their breath for a cry ofastonishment--and something goes wrong and nothing happens.
The good Forlivesi could not understand it: they were looking for signsand miracles, and behold! they came not. Each day they said tothemselves that this would be one to be remembered in the history of thetown; that to-day Girolamo would surely leave his hesitations; but theday wore on quite calmly. Everyone took his dinner and supper as usual,the sun journeyed from east to west as it had done on the previous day,the night came, and the worthy citizen went to his bed at his usualhour, and slept in peace till the following sunrise. Nothing happened,and it seemed that nothing was going to happen. The troubled spiritsgradually came to the conclusion that there was nothing to be troubledabout, and the old quiet came over the town; there was no talk of newtaxes, and the world wagged on.... Checco and Matteo and the Moratiniresigned themselves to the fact that the sky was serene, and that theyhad better pursue their way without troubling their little heads aboutconspiracies and midnight daggers.
Meanwhile, I laughed, and admired their folly and my own wisdom. For Iworried myself about none of these things; I lived in Giulia, forGiulia, by Giulia.... I had never enjoyed such happiness before; she wasa little cold, perhaps, but I did not mind. I had passion that lived byits own flame, and I cared for nothing as long as she let me love her.And I argued with myself that it is an obvious thing that love is notthe same on both sides. There is always one who loves and one who letshimself be loved. Perhaps it is a special decree of Nature; for the manloves actively, caresses and is passionate; while the woman givesherself to him, and is in his embrace like some sweet, helpless animal.I did not ask for such love as I gave; all I asked was that my loveshould let herself be loved. That was all I cared for; that was all Iwanted. My love for Giulia was wonderful even to me. I felt I had lostmyself in her. I had given my whole being into her hand. Samson andDelilah! But this was no faithless Philistine. I would have given myhonour into her keeping and felt it as sure as in my own. In my greatlove I felt such devotion, such reverence, that sometimes I hardly daredtouch her; it seemed to me I must kneel and worship at her feet. Ilearnt the great delight of abasing myself to the beloved. I could makemyself so small and mean in my humility; but nothing satisfied my wishto show my abject slavery.... Oh, Giulia! Giulia!
* * * * *
But this inaction on the part of Girolamo Riario had the effect ofpersuading his subjects of his weakness. They had given over expectingreprisals on his part, and the only conclusion they could come to wasthat he dared do nothing against Checco. It was inconceivable that heshould leave unavenged the insults he had received; that he should bearwithout remark the signs of popularity which greeted Checco, not only onthe day of the Council meeting, but since, every time he appeared in thestreets. They began to despise their ruler as well as hate him, and theytold one another stories of violent disputes in the Palace between theCount and Caterina. Everyone knew the pride and passion which came tothe Countess with her Sforza blood, and they felt sure that she wouldnot patiently bear the insults which her husband did not seem to mind;for the fear of the people could not stop their sarcasms, and when anymember of the household was seen he was assailed with taunts and jeers;Caterina herself had to listen to scornful laughs as she passed by, andthe town was ringing with a song about the Count. It was whispered thatGirolamo's little son, Ottaviano, had been heard singing it in ignoranceof its meaning, and had been nearly killed by his father in a passion ofrage. Evil reports began to circulate about Caterina's virtue; it wassupposed that she would not keep faithful to such a husband, and anothersong was made in praise of cuckoldry.
The Orsi would not be persuaded that this calm was to be believed in.Checco was assured that Girolamo must have some scheme on hand, and thequiet and silence seemed all the more ominous.
The Count very rarely appeared in Forli; but one Saint's day he went tothe Cathedral, and as he came back to the Palace, passing through thepiazza, saw Checco. At the same moment Checco saw him, and stopped,uncertain what to do. The crowd suddenly became silent, and they stoodstill like statues petrified by a magic spell. What was going to happen?Girolamo himself hesitated a moment; a curious spasm crossed his face.Checco made as if to walk on, pretending not to notice the Count. Matteoand I were dumbfounded, absolutely at a loss. Then the Count steppedforward, and held out his hand.
'Ah, my Checco! how goes it?'
He smiled and pressed warmly the hand which the Orsi gave him. Checcowas taken aback, pale as if the hand he held were the hand of death.
'You have neglected me of late, dear friend,' said the Count.
'I have not been well, my lord.'
Girolamo linked his arm in Checco's.
'Come, come,' he said, 'you must not be angry because I used sharpwords to you the other day. You know I am hot-tempered.'
'You have a right to say what you please.'
'Oh, no; I have only a right to say pleasant things.'
He smiled, but all the time the mobile eyes were shifting here andthere, scrutinising Checco's face, giving occasional quick glances to meand Matteo. He went on,--
'You must show a forgiving spirit.' Then, to Matteo, 'We must all begood Christians if we can, eh, Matteo?'
'Of course!'
'And yet your cousin bears malice.'
'No, my lord,' said Checco. 'I am afraid I was too outspoken.'
'Well, if you were, I have forgiven you, and you must forgive me. But wewill not talk of that. My children have been asking for you. It isstrange that this ferocious creature, who tells me I am the worst amongbad men, should be so adored by my children. Your little godson isalways crying for you.'
'Dear child!' said Checco.
'Come and see them now. There is no time like the present.'
Matteo and I looked at one another. Was all this an attempt to get himin his hand, and this time not to let him go?
'I must pray you to excuse me, for I have some gentlemen coming to dinewith me to-day, and I fear I shall
be late already.'
Girolamo gave us a rapid look, and evidently saw in our eyes somethingof our thoughts, for he said good-humouredly,--
'You never will do anything for me, Checco. But I won't keep you; Irespect the duties of hospitality. However, another day you must come.'
He warmly pressed Checco's hand, and, nodding to Matteo and me, left us.
The crowd had not been able to hear what was said, but they had seen thecordiality, and as soon as Girolamo disappeared behind the Palace doors,broke out into murmurs of derision. The Christian sentiment clearlygained little belief from them, and they put down the Count's act tofear. It was clear, they said, that he found Checco too strong for him,and dared nothing. It was a discovery that the man they had so fearedwas willing to turn the other cheek when the one was smitten, and to alltheir former hate they added a new hate that he had caused them terrorwithout being terrible. They hated him now for their own pusillanimity.The mocking songs gained force, and Girolamo began to be known asCornuto, the Man of Horns.
Borne on this wave of contempt came another incident, which again showedthe Count's weakness. On the Sunday following his meeting with Checco,it was known that Girolamo meant to hear mass at the church of SanStefano, and Jacopo Ronchi, commander of a troop, stationed himself,with two other soldiers, to await him. When the Count appeared,accompanied by his wife and children and his suite, Jacopo pressedforward and, throwing himself on his knees, presented a petition, inwhich he asked for the arrears of pay of himself and his fellows. TheCount took it without speaking, and pursued his way. Then Jacopo tookhold of his legs to stop him, and said,--
'For Heaven's sake, my lord, give me a hearing. I and these others havereceived nothing for months, and we are starving.'
'Let me go,' said the Count, 'your claim shall be attended to.'
'Do not dismiss me, my lord. I have presented three petitions before,and to none of them have you paid attention. Now I am getting desperate,and can wait no longer. Look at my tattered clothes. Give me my money!'
'Let me go, I tell you,' said Girolamo, furiously, and he gave him asweeping blow, so that the man fell on his back to the ground. 'How dareyou come and insult me here in the public place! By God! I cannot keepmy patience much longer.'
He brought out these words with such violence of passion that it seemedas if in them exploded the anger which had been gathering up throughthis time of humiliation. Then, turning furiously on the people, healmost screamed,--
'Make way!'
They dared not face his anger, and with white faces, shrunk back,leaving a path for him and his party to walk through.
The Making of a Saint Page 12