CHAPTER XI.
In those days, as in the present, there was situated, somewhere orother in the garden, farm, or podere of every Italian villa, sometimeshid among the fig-trees, olives, or mulberries, sometimes plantedclose to one of the gates of the inclosing walls, a neat farm-house,the abode of the contadino, who dwelt there usually in much morehappiness and security than attended his lords and masters in theirmore magnificent abodes. It is true that occasionally a littleviolence might be brought down upon the heads of the family, by anyextraordinary beauty in a daughter or a niece, or any very ferociousvirtue upon the parents' part; but, sooth to say, I fear me much that,since the times of Virginius, Italian fathers have not looked withvery severe eyes upon affairs of gallantry between their daughters andmen of elevated station, nor have the young ladies themselves beenvery scrupulous in accepting the attentions of well-born cavaliers.The inconveniences resulting from such adventures apart, the life ofan Italian peasant was far more safe and far more happy in those daysthan the life of a noble or a citizen, and Sismondi has justly pointedout that they were more contented with their lot, and had more causefor content, than any other class in the land. No very heavy exactionspressed upon them; their lords were generally just, and even generous;and it rarely happened that they saw their harvests wasted even by thewandering bands, whose leaders wisely remembered that they and theirsoldiers must depend upon those harvests for support.
The house of a contadino has less changed than almost any otherbuilding in Italy. There was always a certain degree of tastedisplayed in its construction, and there was always one room a gooddeal larger than any of the rest, with plenty of air blowing throughit, to which, when the sun shone too strongly under the porch, any ofthe family could retire _per pigliar la fresca_. It was in this largeroom at the farm, in the gardens of the villa, that, at an early hourof the day which succeeded the death of Buondoni, a strange sightmight be seen. The door was locked and barred, and from time to timeeach of those within--and there were several--turned a somewhatanxious, fearful look towards it or to the windows, as if they wereengaged in some act for which they desired no witnesses. Two women, anold and a young one, stood at the head of a long table; a second girlwas seen at the side; a young man was near the other end, holding alarge, heavy bucket in his hand; and at some distance from all therest, with his arms folded on his chest and somewhat gloomydisapproving brow, was the contadino himself, gazing at what theothers were about, but taking no part therein himself.
The object, however, of most interest lay upon the table. It wasapparently the corpse of a man from thirty-five to forty years of age,dressed in the garb of a retainer of some noble house. His long blackhair flowed wildly from his head, partly soiled with dust, partlysteeped with water. His dress also was wet, and the collar of his coatas well as that of his vest seemed to have been torn rudely open. Hehad apparently died a violent death: the face was of a dark waxenyellow, and the tongue, which protruded from the mouth, had beenbitten in violent agony between the teeth. Round his neck, andextending upwards towards the left ear, was a dark red mark,significant of the manner of his death.
"Here, Giulo, here!" cried the elder woman, "pour the water over himagain. His eyes roll in his head. He is coming to!"
"Ah, Marie! what a face he makes," exclaimed one of the girls,shutting out the sight with her hands.
"Poor fools! you will do more harm than good," murmured the contadino;"let the man pass in peace! I would sooner spend twenty lire in massesfor his soul than bring him back to trouble the world any more."
"Would you have us act like tigers or devils, you old iniquity?" askedhis wife, shaking three fingers at him. "The life is in the poor manyet. Shall we let him go out of the world without unction orconfession, for fear of what these French heretics may do to us?"
"Besides, Madonna Bianca had him cut down to save his life," cried thegirl who stood nearest his head. "You would fain please her, I trow,father. I heard her myself pray for him to be cut down, and she willbe glad to hear we have recovered him. It was that which made me runaway for Giulio as soon as the order was given."
While this dialogue was going on, the young man, Giulio, had pouredthe whole bucket of water over the recumbent body on the table,dashing it on with a force which might well have driven the soul outof a living man, but which, on this occasion, seemed to have the veryopposite effect of bringing spirit into a dead one. Suddenly theeyelids closed over the staring eyes; there was a shudder passed overthe whole frame; the fingers seemed to grasp at some fancied object onthe table, and at length respiration returned, at first in fitfulgasps, but soon with regular and even quiet action. The eyes thenopened again, and turned from face to face with some degree ofconsciousness; but they closed again after a momentary glance around,and he fell into what seemed a heavy sleep, distinguished from thatstill heavier sleep into which he had lately lain by the equableheaving of the chest.
The mother and the two girls looked on rejoicing, and Giulio, too, hada well-satisfied look, for such are the powers of that wonderfulquality called vanity, that as it was under his hand the manrecovered, he attributed his resuscitation entirely to his own skill;and had his patient been the devil himself come to plague him and allthe world, good Giulio would have glorified himself upon the triumphof his exertions. And well he might; for, unfortunately, as this worldgoes, men glory as much over their success in bad as in good actions,judging not the merit of deeds by their consequences, even where thoseconsequences are self-evident. Success, success is all that the worldesteems. It is the gold that will not tarnish--the diamond whoselustre no breath can dim.
The old contadino, however, was even less pleased with the result ofhis family's efforts than he had been with the efforts themselves.
"Satan will owe us something," he muttered, "for snatching from himone of his own, and he is a gentleman who always pays his debts. By myfaith, I will go up and tell the count what has chanced. I do notchoose to be blamed for these women's mad folly. Better let him knowat once, while the fellow is in such a state that a pillow over hismouth will soon put out the lighted flame they have lighted in him--ifmy lord pleases."
"What are you murmuring there, you old hyena?" asked his gentle wife.
"Oh, nothing, nothing, good dame," replied the husband; "'twas onlythe fellow's grimaces made me sick, and I must out into the podere.C--e! I did not think you would have succeeded so well with the poordevil. I hope he'll soon be able to jog away from here; for, though hemay move and talk again--and I dare say he will--I shall always lookupon him as a dead man, notwithstanding. Suppose, now, that it shouldnot be his own soul that has come back into him, wife, but some badspirit, that all your working and water--I am sure it was not holywater--has brought back into his poor, miserable corpse!"
"Jesu Maria! do not put such thoughts into my head, Giovanozzo,"exclaimed the old lady with a look of horror; "but that cannot be,either, for I made Giulio put some salt into the water, and the devilcan never stand that; so go along with you. You cannot frighten me. Goand try to get back your senses, for you seem to have lost them, goodman."
The contadino was glad to get away unquestioned; and, unlocking thedoor, he issued forth from his house. At first he did not turn hissteps toward the villa, but took a path which led down to the river.At the distance of some hundred or hundred and fifty yards, however,where the trees screened him from his own dwelling, he looked round tosee that none of his family followed, and then turned directly up thelittle rise. When near the terrace he saw a man coming down the stepstoward him, and suddenly paused; but a moment's observation showed himthat he need have no alarm. The person who approached was no otherthan Antonio, between whom and the good peasant a considerableintimacy had sprung up since Lorenzo Visconti had been at the VillaRovera. Would you taste the best wine on an estate, or eat thesweetest fig of the season, make friends with the contadino and hisfamily; and, perhaps acting on this maxim, Antonio had often been downto pass an hour or two with Giovanozzo, and enliven the wholehous
ehold with his jests.
"The very man," said the contadino to himself; "he'll tell me justwhat I ought to do. He has travelled, and seen all manner of things.He is just the person. Signor Antonio, good morning to yourexcellency! What is in the wind to-day?"
"Nothing but a strong scent of dead carrion that I can smell,"answered Antonio.
"Well," said the contadino, with a grin, "I do not wonder, forthere's carrion down at our house, and the worst carrion a man thinkof, for it's not only dead carrion, but live carrion, too."
"Alive with maggots. I take you," answered Antonio; "that is a shallowconceit, Giovanozzo. It hardly needs an ell yard to plumb that."
"Nay, nay you are not at the bottom of it yet," replied the peasant;"it is alive and dead, and yet no maggots in it."
"Then the maggots are in thy brain," answered Antonio. "But speakplainly, man, speak plainly. If you keep hammering my head withenigmas, I shall have no brains left to understand your real meaning."
"Well, then, signor," said the contadino, gravely, "I want advice."
"And, like a wise man, come to me," replied his companion; "mine isthe very shop to find it; I have plenty always on hand for mycustomers, never using any of it myself, and receiving it fresh dailyfrom those who have it to spare. What sort of advice will you have,Giovanozzo? the advice interested or disinterested--the advicefraternal or paternal--the advice minatory, or monitory, orconsolatory--the advice cynical or philosophical?"
"Nay, but this is a serious matter, signor," answered the contadino.
"Then you shall have serious advice," answered Antonio. "Proceed. Laythe case before me in such figures as may best suit its condition, andI will try and fit my advice thereunto as tight as a jerkin made by atailor who loves cabbage more than may consist with the ease of hiscustomers."
"Well, let us sit down on this bank," said Giovanozzo, "for it is amatter which requires much consideration and--"
"Like a hen's egg, requires to be sat upon," interrupted Antonio."Well, in this also I will gratify you, signor. Now to your tale."
"Why, you must know," proceeded the contadino, "that this morning, anhour or two ago, just when I was coming up from the well, I saw Juditaand Margarita, with Giulio, carrying something heavy into the house.It took all their strength, I can tell you, though the man was not abig man, after all."
"A man!" exclaimed Antonio; "was it a man they were carrying?"
"Nothing short of a man," replied Giovanozzo.
"And yet a short man too," said Antonio. "Was he a dead man?"
"Yes and no," replied the peasant; "he was dead then, but he is alivenow. But just listen, signor. It seems that a whole troop of theseFrenchmen came down this way at an early hour, on their way to Pavia,and that they halted at the gates; but before they halted, they saw aman on horseback, standing at the little turn-down to Signor Manini'spodere; and that, as soon as he saw them, he tried to spur away, buttheir spurs were sharper than his; so they caught him and brought himback. Then, some hours after, up comes another party, and they held asort of council over him, and confronted him with two or three otherprisoners, and then strung him up to the branch of the greatmulberry-tree. But presently some one came out of the villa andordered him to be cut down, and as soon as that was done they all rodeaway, leaving him there lying on the road. That is what Giulio toldme, for he was looking over the wall all the time."
"Dangerous peeping, Signor Giovanozzo," said Antonio solemnly; "butwhat did the lad do, then?"
"Why, he would have let him lie quiet enough, if he had had his ownway," replied the contadino, "for Giulio is a discreet youth. He takesafter me in the main, and knows when to let well enough alone, whenhis mother and his sisters are not at his heels; but the good _madre_you know--" and here he added a significant grimace, which finishedthe sentence. "However," he continued, "Margarita, who is tiring-womanto the young contessa, came running out of the villa, and told Giuliothat it was Bianca Maria's orders to see if there was any life in theman, and try to save him. So they looked at him together, and fanciedthey saw his face twitch, and then they called Judita and carried himdown into the house."
"And then?" asked Antonio.
"Why, then they sluiced him with cold water, and poured Heaven knowswhat all down his throat, or into his mouth, at least."
"And then?" said Antonio, again.
"Why, then he began to wake up," replied the contadino, "and now he issnoring on a table down below, and I dare say he will be all thebetter for his hanging."
"He might have been so, if Giulio had not been too near," answeredAntonio, drily, and then fell into a fit of thought.
"I am sure the devil has something to do with it," said Giovanozzo, inan inquiring tone.
"Beyond doubt," replied Antonio, solemnly; "but whether in the hangingor the resuscitation, who shall say? However, I will go down and seethe gentleman. Do you know who he is?"
"One of Signor Buondoni's men, I fancy," replied the peasant. "We hearthe signor was killed last night on the terrace, and I was thinking tocome up and see the corpse. He must lay out handsomely, for he was afine-looking man. I saw him by the moonlight just when he came to thegates yester-evening. I hope you do not think our people will beblamed by the old count for whatever we have done."
"Oh, no," replied Antonio, "you have done right well; though, if youhad killed the one and not saved the other, you might have donebetter. Now let us go down to your house."
They walked some hundred yards in silence, and then Antonio saidabruptly, "I wonder what is the good man's name. One of my oldplayfellows was in Buondoni's service, I hear. What like is he,Giovan'?"
"Why he is little and thin," answered the contadino, "with a big beardlike a German's, and a sharp face. His muzzle is much like ahedgehog's, only he is as yellow as a lemon."
"That has to do with the hanging," answered Antonio. "I have seenmany a man hanged when I was in France. The late king, who was no waytender, did a good deal in that way, and most of those he strung upwere very yellow when they were cut down. I should have thought itwould have turned them blue, but it was not so. However, I think Iknow this gentleman, and if so, must have a talk with him before hegoes forth into the wicked world again. I would fain warn him, as afriend, against bad courses, which, though (as he must have found)they often lead to elevated places, are sure to end in a fall, andsometimes in a broken neck. But here we are before your house,Giovanozzo, and there goes Giulio, seeking you, I expect. Let him go,man--let him go. I wish you would send Margarita one way after him andJudita the other, and then get up a little quarrel with your amiablewife, for I must positively speak with this gentleman alone, and maybestow some time upon him."
Leonora D'Orco: A Historical Romance Page 11