CHAPTER IV
It was a surprise to all of them, save to Agostino Balderini, who passedhis inspecting glance from face to face, marking the effect ofthe announcement. Corte gazed at her heavily, but not altogetherdisapprovingly. Giulio Bandinelli and Marco Sana, though evidentlyastonished, and to some extent incredulous, listened like the perfectlytrusty lieutenants in an enterprise which they were. But Carlo Ammianistood horror-stricken. The blood had left his handsome young olive-huedface, and his eyes were on the signorina, large with amazement, fromwhich they deepened to piteousness of entreaty.
"Signorina!--you! Can it be true? Do you know?--do you mean it?"
"What, signor Carlo?"
"This; will you venture to do such a thing?"
"Oh, will I venture? What can you think of me? It is my own request."
"But, signorina, in mercy, listen and consider."
Carlo turned impetuously to the Chief. "The signorina can't know thedanger she is running. She will be seized on the boards, and shut upbetween four walls before a man of us will be ready,--or more than one,"he added softly. "The house is sure to be packed for a first night; andthe Polizia have a suspicion of her. She has been off her guard in theConservatorio; she has talked of a country called Italy; she has beenindiscreet;--pardon, pardon, signorina! but it is true that she hasspoken out from her noble heart. And this opera! Are they fools?--theymust see through it. It will never,--it can't possibly be reckoned onto appear. I knew that the signorina was heart and soul with us; butwho could guess that her object was to sacrifice herself in the frontrank,--to lead a forlorn hope! I tell you it's like a Pagan rite. Youare positively slaying a victim. I beg you all to look at the casecalmly!"
A burst of laughter checked him; for his seniors by many years could nothear such veteran's counsel from a hurried boy without being shrewdlytouched by the humour of it, while one or two threw a particular ironyinto their tones.
"When we do slay a victim, we will come to you as our augur, my Carlo,"said Agostino.
Corte was less gentle. As a Milanese and a mere youth Ammiani wasantipathetic to Corte, who closed his laughter with a windy rattle ofhis lips, and a "pish!" of some emphasis.
Carlo was quick to give him a challenging frown.
"What is it?" Corte bent his head back, as if inquiringly.
"It's I who claim that question by right," said Carlo.
"You are a boy."
"I have studied war."
"In books."
"With brains, Colonel Corte."
"War is a matter of blows, my little lad."
"Let me inform you, signor Colonel, that war is not a game betweenbulls, to be played with the horns of the head."
"You are prepared to instruct me?" The fiery Bergamasc lifted hiseyebrows.
"Nay, nay!" said Agostino. "Between us two first;" and he graspedCarlo's arm, saying in an underbreath, "Your last retort was toolong-winded. In these conflicts you must be quick, sharp as arifle-crack that hits echo on the breast-bone and makes her cry out.I correct a student in the art of war." Then aloud: "My opera, youngman!--well, it's my libretto, and you know we writers always say 'myopera' when we have put the pegs for the voice; you are certainly awarethat we do. How dare you to make calumnious observations upon my opera?Is it not the ripe and admirable fruit of five years of confinement? Arenot the lines sharp, the stanzas solid? and the stuff, is it not good?Is not the subject simple, pure from offence to sensitive authority,constitutionally harmless? Reply!"
"It's transparent to any but asses," said Carlo.
"But if it has passed the censorship? You are guilty, my boy, ofbestowing upon those highly disciplined gentlemen who govern your famouscity--what title? I trust a prophetic one, since that it comes from ananimal whose custom is to turn its back before it delivers a blow,and is, they remark, fonder of encountering dead lions than live ones.Still, it is you who are indiscreet,--eminently so, I must add, if youwill look lofty. If my opera has passed the censorship! eh, what haveyou to say?"
Carlo endured this banter till the end of it came.
"And you--you encourage her!" he cried wrathfully. "You know what thedanger is for her, if they once lay hands on her. They will have herin Verona in four-and-twenty hours; through the gates of the Adige in acouple of days, and at Spielberg, or some other of their infernal densof groans, within a week. Where is the chance of a rescue then? Theytorture, too, they torture! It's a woman; and insult will be one mode oftorturing her. They can use rods--"
The excited Southern youth was about to cover his face, but caught backhis hands, clenching them.
"All this," said Agostino, "is an evasion, manifestly, of the questionconcerning my opera, on which you have thought proper to cast a slur.The phrase, 'transparent to any but asses,' may not be absolutelyobjectionable, for transparency is, as the critics rightly insist,meritorious in a composition. And, according to the other view, if wedesire our clever opponents to see nothing in something, it isnotably skilful to let them see through it. You perceive, my Carlo.Transparency, then, deserves favourable comment. So, I do not complainof your phrase, but I had the unfortunate privilege of hearing ituttered. The method of delivery scarcely conveyed a compliment. Will youapologize?"
Carlo burst from him with a vehement question to the Chief: "Is itdecided?"
"It is, my friend," was the reply.
"Decided! She is doomed! Signorina! what can you know of this frightfulrisk? You are going to the slaughter. You will be seized before thefirst verse is out of your lips, and once in their clutches, you willnever breathe free air again. It's madness!--ah, forgive me!--yes,madness! For you shut your eyes; you rush into the trap blindfolded. Andthat is how you serve our Italy! She sees you an instant, and you arecaught away;--and you who might serve her, if you would, do you thinkyou can move dungeon walls?"
"Perhaps, if I have been once seen, I shall not be forgotten," saidthe signorina smoothly, and then cast her eyes down, as if she felt theburden of a little possible accusation of vanity in this remark. Sheraised them with fire.
"No; never!" exclaimed Carlo. "But, now you are ours. And--surely it isnot quite decided?"
He had spoken imploringly to the Chief. "Not irrevocably?" he added.
"Irrevocably!"
"Then she is lost!"
"For shame, Carlo Ammiani;" said old Agostino, casting his sententioushumours aside. "Do you not hear? It is decided! Do you wish to rob herof her courage, and see her tremble? It's her scheme and mine: a casewhere an old head approves a young one. The Chief says Yes! and youbellow still! Is it a Milanese trick? Be silent."
"Be silent!" echoed Carlo. "Do you remember the beast Marschatska'sbet?" The allusion was to a black incident concerning a young Italianballet girl who had been carried off by an Austrian officer, under thepretext of her complicity in one of the antecedent conspiracies.
"He rendered payment for it," said Agostino.
"He perished; yes! as we shake dust to the winds; but she!--it'sterrible! You place women in the front ranks--girls! What candefenceless creatures do? Would you let the van-regiment in battle bethe one without weapons? It's slaughter. She's like a lamb to them. Youhold up your jewel to the enemy, and cry, 'Come and take it.' Thinkof the insults! think of the rough hands, and foul mouths! She will beseized on the boards--"
"Not if you keep your tongue from wagging," interposed Ugo Corte,fevered by this unseasonable exhibition of what was to him manifestlya lover's frenzied selfishness. He moved off, indifferent to Carlo'sretort. Marco Sana and Giulio Bandinelli were already talking aside withthe Chief.
"Signor Carlo, not a hand shall touch me," said the signorina. "And I amnot a lamb, though it is good of you to think me one. I passed throughthe streets of Milan in the last rising. I was unharmed. You must havesome confidence in me."
"Signorina, there's the danger," rejoined Carlo. "You trust to your goodangels once, twice--the third time they fail you! What are you amonga host of armed savages? You would be tossed like weed on the sea
. Inpity, do not look so scornfully! No, there is no unjust meaning in it;but you despise me for seeing danger. Can nothing persuade you? And,besides," he addressed the Chief, who alone betrayed no signs ofweariness; "listen, I beg of you. Milan wants no more than a signal. Shedoes not require to be excited. I came charged with several proposalsfor giving the alarm. Attend, you others! The night of the Fifteenthcomes; it is passing like an ordinary night. At twelve a fire-balloon isseen in the sky. Listen, in the name of saints and devils!"
But even the Chief was observed to show signs of amusement, and thegravity of the rest forsook them altogether at the display of thisprofound and original conspiratorial notion.
"Excellent! excellent! my Carlo," said old Agostino, cheerfully. "Youhave thought. You must have thought, or whence such a conception? But,you really mistake. It is not the garrison whom we desire to put ontheir guard. By no means. We are not in the Imperial pay. Probably yourballoon is to burst in due time, and, wind permitting, disperse printedpapers all over the city?"
"What if it is?" cried Carlo fiercely.
"Exactly. I have divined your idea. You have thought, or, to correct thetense, are thinking, which is more hopeful, though it may chance not toseem so meritorious. But, if yours are the ideas of full-blown jackets,bear in mind that our enemies are coated and breeched. It may becreditable to you that your cunning is not the cunning of the serpent;to us it would be more valuable if it were. Continue."
"Oh! there are a thousand ways." Carlo controlled himself with a sharpscrew of all his muscles. "I simply wish to save the signorina from anannoyance."
"Very mildly put," Agostino murmured assentingly.
"In our Journal," said Carlo, holding out the palm of one hand todot the forefinger of the other across it, by way of personalillustration--"in our Journal we might arrange for certain letters torecur at distinct intervals in Roman capitals, which might spell out,'This Night AT Twelve,' or 'At Once.'"
"Quite as ingenious, but on the present occasion erring on the side ofintricacy. Aha! you want to increase the sale of your Journal, do you,my boy? The rogue!"
With which, and a light slap over Carlo's shoulder, Agostino left him.
The aspect of his own futile proposals stared the young man in the facetoo forcibly for him to nurse the spark of resentment which was struckout in the turmoil of his bosom. He veered, as if to follow Agostino,and remained midway, his chest heaving, and his eyelids shut.
"Signor Carlo, I have not thanked you." He heard Vittoria speak. "I knowthat a woman should never attempt to do men's work. The Chief will tellyou that we must all serve now, and all do our best. If we fail, andthey put me to great indignity, I promise you that I will not live. Iwould give this up to be done by anyone else who could do it better. Itis in my hands, and my friends must encourage me."
"Ah, signorina!" the young man sighed bitterly. The knowledge that hehad already betrayed himself in the presence of others too far, and thesob in his throat labouring to escape, kept him still.
A warning call from Ugo Corte drew their attention. Close by the chaletwhere the first climbers of the mountain had refreshed themselves, Beppowas seen struggling to secure the arms of a man in a high-crowned greenSwiss hat, who was apparently disposed to give the signorina's faithfulservant some trouble. After gazing a minute at this singular contention,she cried--"It's the same who follows me everywhere!"
"And you will not believe you are suspected," murmured Carlo in her ear.
"A spy?" Sana queried, showing keen joy at the prospect of scotchingsuch a reptile on the lonely height. Corte went up to the Chief. Theyspoke briefly together, making use of notes and tracings on paper. TheChief then said "Adieu" to the signorina. It was explained to the restby Corte that he had a meeting to attend near Pella about noon, and mustbe in Fobello before midnight. Thence his way would be to Genoa.
"So, you are resolved to give another trial to our crownedex-Carbonaro," said Agostino.
"Without leaving him an initiative this time!" and the Chief embracedthe old man. "You know me upon that point. I cannot trust him. I do not.But, if we make such a tide in Lombardy that his army must be drawn intoit, is such an army to be refused? First, the tide, my friend! See tothat."
"The king is our instrument!" cried Carlo Ammiani, brightening.
"Yes, if we were particularly well skilled in the use of that kind ofinstrument," Agostino muttered.
He stood apart while the Chief said a few words to Carlo, which made theblood play vividly across the visage of the youth. Carlo tried humblyto expostulate once or twice. In the end his head was bowed, and hesignified a dumb acquiescence.
"Once more, good-bye." The Chief addressed the signorina in English.
She replied in the same tongue, "Good-bye," tremulously; and passionmounting on it, added--"Oh! when shall I see you again?"
"When Rome is purified to be a fit place for such as you."
In another minute he was hidden on the slope of the mountain lyingtoward Orta.
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