XXXII
The first thing I had done on returning to the Palazzo Orsi was to stripmyself of my purple and fine linen, shave my beard and moustache, cut myhair short, put on the clothes of a serving-man, and look at myself in amirror. If I had met in the street the image I saw I should have passedon without recognising it. Still I was not dissatisfied with myself, andI smiled as I thought that it would not be too extraordinary if a lady'swench lost her heart to such a serving-man.
I went to the old Orso's apartments, and found everything quiet; I laydown on a couch outside the doors and tried to sleep; but my thoughtstroubled me. My mind was with the sad horsemen galloping through thenight, and I wondered what the morrow had in store for them and me. Iknew a price would be set upon my head, and I had to remain here in themidst of my enemies as the only protection of an old man of eighty-five.
In a little while I heard the bells which told the town that theconspirators had fled, and at last I fell into a restless sleep. At sixI was awakened by a hurry and bustle in the house.... The servants toldone another that Checco had gone, and the Countess would come out of thefortress in a little while; and then God only knew what would happen.They cowered about, whispering, taking no notice of the new serving-manwho had appeared in the night. They said that the Palace would be givenover to the vengeance of the people, that the servants would sufferinstead of the master; and soon one of them gave the signal; he said hewould not stay, and since his wages had not been paid he would take themwith him. He filled his pockets with such valuables as he could find,and going down a back staircase slid out of a little side door and waslost in the labyrinth of streets. The others were quick to follow hisexample, and the Palace was subjected to a looting in miniature; the oldsteward stood by, wringing his hands, but they paid no attention to him,thinking only of their safety and their pockets. Before the sun had hadtime to clear away the early mists, they had all fled; and besides theold man, the house contained only the white-haired steward, a boy oftwenty, his nephew, and myself; and Checco had been such a sweet andgentle master!
We went in to the old Orso. He was seated in a large arm-chair by thefireside, huddled up in a heavy dressing-gown. He had sunk his head downin his collar to keep warm, so that one could only see the dead eyes,the nose, and the sunken, wrinkled cheeks; a velvet cap covered his hairand forehead. He was holding his long, shrivelled hands to the fire, andthe flames almost shone through them; they trembled incessantly. Helooked up at the sound of our entrance.
'Ah, Pietro!' he said to the steward. Then, after a pause, 'Where isFabrizio?'
Fabrizio was the servant in whose particular charge the Orso had beenput, and the old man had become so fond of him that he would take foodonly from his hand, and insisted on having him near at every moment ofthe day. He had been among the first to fill his pockets and decamp.
'Why does not Fabrizio come?' he asked querulously. 'Tell him I wanthim. I will not be neglected in this way.'
Pietro did not know what to answer. He looked about him inembarrassment.
'Why does not Fabrizio come? Now that Checco is master here, theyneglect me. It is scandalous. I shall talk to Checco about it. Where isFabrizio? Tell him to come immediately on pain of my displeasure.'
His voice was so thin and weak and trembling it was like that of alittle child ill with some fever. I saw that Pietro had nothing to say,and Orso was beginning to moan feebly.
'Fabrizio has been sent away,' I said, 'and I have been put in hisplace.'
Pietro and his nephew looked at me. They noticed for the first time thatmy face was new, and they glanced at one another with upraised brows.
'Fabrizio sent away! Who sent him away? I won't have him sent away.'
'Checco sent him away.'
'Checco had no right to send him away. I am master here. They treat meas if I were a child. It is shameful! Where is Fabrizio? I will not haveit, I tell you. It is shameful! I shall speak to Checco about it. Whereis Checco?'
None of us answered.
'Why don't you answer when I speak to you? Where is Checco?'
He raised himself in his chair and bent forward to look at us, then hefell back.
'Ah, I remember now,' he murmured. 'Checco has gone. He wanted me to gotoo. But I am too old, too old, too old. I told Checco what it would be.I know the Forlivesi; I have known them for eighty years. They are morefickle and cowardly than any other people in this cesspool which theycall God's earth. I have been an exile fourteen times. Fourteen times Ihave fled from the city, and fourteen times I have returned. Ah yes, Ihave lived the life in my time, but I am tired now. I don't want to goout again; and besides, I am so old. I might die before I returned, andI want to die in my own house.'
He looked at the fire, murmuring his confidences to the smoulderingashes. Then he seemed to repeat his talk with Checco.
'No, Checco, I will not come. Go alone. They will not touch me. I amOrso Orsi. They will not touch me; they dare not. Go alone, and give mylove to Clarice.'
Clarice was Checco's wife. He kept silence for a while, then he brokeout again,--
'I want Fabrizio.'
'Will I not do instead?' I asked.
'Who are you?'
I repeated patiently,--
'I am the servant placed here to serve you instead of Fabrizio. My nameis Fabio.'
'Your name is Fabio?' he asked, looking at me.
'Yes.'
'No, it is not! Why do you tell me your name is Fabio? I know your face.You are not a serving-man.'
'You are mistaken,' I said.
'No, no. You are not Fabio. I know your face. Who are you?'
'I am Fabio.'
'Who are you?' he asked again querulously. 'I cannot remember whom youare. Why don't you tell me? Can't you see that I am an old man? Whydon't you tell me?'
His voice broke into the moan, and I thought he would cry. He had onlyseen me twice, but among his few visitors the faces of those he sawremained with him, and he recognised me partly.
'I am Filippo Brandolini,' I said. 'I have remained here to look afteryou and see that no harm happens. Checco wished to stay himself, but weinsisted on his going.'
'Oh, you are a gentleman,' he answered. 'I am glad of that.'
Then, as if the talk had tired him, he sank deeper down in his chair andfell into a dose.
I sent Andrea, the steward's nephew, to see what was happening in thetown, and Pietro and I sat in the large window talking in undertones.Suddenly Pietro stopped and said,--
'What is that?'
We both listened. A confused roar in the distance; it resembled theraging of the sea very far away. I opened the window and looked out. Theroar became louder, louder, and at last we discovered that it was thesound of many voices.
'What is it?' asked Pietro again.
There was a scrambling up the stairs, the noise of running feet. Thedoor was burst violently open, and Andrea rushed in.
'Save yourselves!' he cried. 'Save yourselves!'
'What is it?'
'They are coming to sack the Palace. The Countess has given them leave,and the whole populace is up.'
The roar increased, and we could distinctly hear the shouting.
'Be quick!' cried Andrea. 'For God's sake be quick! They will be here ina moment!'
I looked to the door, and Pietro, seeing my thoughts, said,--
'Not that way! Here is another door which leads along a passage into aside street.'
He lifted the tapestry and showed a tiny door, which he opened. I ran toold Orso and shook him.
'Wake up!' I said; 'wake up and come with me!'
'What is it?' he asked.
'Never mind; come with me!'
I took his arm and tried to lift him out of his chair, but he caughthold of the handles and would not stir.
'I will not move,' he said. 'What is it?'
'The mob is coming to sack the Palace, and if they find you here theywill kill you.'
'I will not move. I am Orso Orsi. They dare not to
uch me.'
'Be quick! be quick!' screamed Andrea from the window. 'The first ofthem have appeared in the street. In a moment they will be here.'
'Quick! quick!' cried Pietro.
Now the roar had got so loud that it buzzed in one's ears, and everyinstant it grew louder.
'Be quick! be quick!'
'You must come,' I said, and Pietro joined his prayers to my commands,but nothing would move the old man.
'I tell you I will not fly. I am the head of my house. I am Orso Orsi. Iwill not fly like a dog before the rabble.'
'For your son's sake--for our sake,' I implored. 'We shall be killedwith you.'
'You may go. The door is open for you. I will stay alone.'
He seemed to have regained his old spirit. It was as if a last flamewere flickering up.
'We will not leave you,' I said. 'I have been put by Checco to protectyou, and if you are killed I must be killed too. Our only chance is tofly.'
'Quick! quick!' cried Andrea. 'They are nearly here!'
'Oh, master, master,' cried Pietro, 'accept the means he offers you!'
'Be quick! be quick!'
'Would you have me slink down a back passage, like a thief, in my ownhouse? Never!'
'They have reached the doors,' cried Andrea.
The noise was deafening below. The gates had been closed, and we heard athunder of blows; stones were thrown, sticks beaten against the iron;then they seemed to take some great instrument and pound against thelocks. Again and again the blows were repeated, but at last there was acrash. A mighty shout broke from the people, and we heard a rush. Isprang to the door of the Orso's room and locked and bolted it, then,calling the others to help me, I dragged a heavy chest against it. Weplaced another chest on the first, and dragged the bedstead up, pushingit against the chests.
We were only just in time, for, like water rushing at once through everycrevice, the mob surged up and filled every corner of the house. Theycame to our door and pushed it. To their surprise it did not open.Outside someone cried,--
'It's locked!'
The hindrance excited them, and the crowd gathered greater outside.
'Break it open,' they cried.
Immediately heavy blows thundered down on the lock and handle.
'For God's sake, come,' I said, turning to Orso. He did not answer.There was no time to lose, and I could not conquer his obstinacy.
'Then I shall force you,' I cried, catching hold of both his arms anddragging him from the chair. He held on as tight as he could, but hisstrength was nothing against mine. I caught hold of him, and was liftinghim in my arms when the door was burst open. The rush of people threwdown the barricade, and the crowd surged into the room. It was too late.I made a rush for the little door with Orso, but I could not get to it.They crowded round me with a shout.
'Take him,' I cried to Pietro, 'while I defend you.'
I drew my sword, but immediately a bludgeon fell on it and it smashed intwo. I gave a shout and rushed at my assailants, but it was hopeless. Ifelt a crushing blow on my head. I sank down insensible.
The Making of a Saint Page 33