CHAPTER V. REBELLION
The sight of my mother startled me more than I can say. It filled mewith a positive dread of things indefinable. Never before had I seenher coldly placid countenance so strangely disordered, and her unwontedaspect it must have been that wrought so potently upon me.
No longer was she the sorrowful spectre, white-faced, with downcast eyesand level, almost inanimate, tones. Her cheeks were flushed unnaturally,her lips were quivering, and angry fires were smouldering in herdeep-set eyes.
Swiftly she came down to us, seeming almost to glide over the ground.Not me she addressed, but poor Luisina; and her voice was hoarse with anawful anger.
"Who are you, wench?" quoth she. "What make you here in Mondolfo?"
Luisina had risen and stood swaying there, very white and with avertedeyes, her hands clasping and unclasping. Her lips moved; but she wastoo terrified to answer. It was Giojoso who stepped forward to inform mymother of the girl's name and condition. And upon learning it her angerseemed to increase.
"A kitchen-wench!" she cried. "O horror!"
And quite suddenly, as if by inspiration, scarce knowing what I said orthat I spoke at all, I answered her out of the store of the theologicallearning with which she had had me stuffed.
"We are all equals in the sight of God, madam mother."
She flashed me a glance of anger, of pious anger than which none can bemore terrible.
"Blasphemer!" she denounced me. "What has God to do with this?"
She waited for no answer, rightly judging, perhaps, that I had none tooffer.
"And as for that wanton," she commanded, turning fiercely to Giojoso,"let her be whipped hence and out of the town of Mondolfo. Set thegrooms to it."
But upon that command of hers I leapt of a sudden to my feet, atightening about my heart, and beset by a certain breathlessness thatturned me pale.
Here again, it seemed, was to be repeated--though with methods athousand times more barbarous and harsh--the wrong that was done yearsago in the case of poor Gino Falcone. And the reason for it in thisinstance was not even dimly apparent to me. Falcone I had loved; indeed,in my eighteen years of life he was the only human being who had knockedfor admission upon the portals of my heart. Him they had driven forth.And now, here was a child--the fairest creature of God's that until thathour I had beheld, whose companionship seemed to me a thing sweet anddesirable, and whom I felt that I might love as I had loved Falcone.Her too they would drive forth, and with a brutality and cruelty thatrevolted me.
Later I was to perceive the reasons better, and much food for reflectionwas I to derive from realizing that there are no spirits so vengeful, sofierce, so utterly intolerant, ungovernable, and feral as the spirits ofthe devout when they conceive themselves justified to anger.
All the sweet teaching of Charity and brotherly love and patience isjettisoned, and by the most amazing paradox that Christianity has everknown, Catholic burns heretic, and heretic butchers Catholic, all forthe love of Christ; and each glories devoutly in the deed, never heedingthe blasphemy of his belief that thus he obeys the sweet and gentlemandates of the God Incarnate.
Thus, then, my mother now, commanding that hideous deed with a mind atpeace in pharisaic self-righteousness.
But not again would I stand by as I had stood by in the case of Falcone,and let her cruel, pietistic will be done. I had grown since then, and Ihad ripened more than I was aware. It remained for this moment to revealto me the extent. Besides, the subtle influence of sex--all unconsciousof it as I was--stirred me now to prove my new-found manhood.
"Stay!" I said to Giojoso, and in uttering the command I grew very coldand steady, and my breathing resumed the normal.
He checked in the act of turning away to do my mother's hideous bidding.
"You will give Madonna's order to the grooms, Ser Giojoso, as you havebeen bidden. But you will add from me that if there is one amongst themdares to obey it and to lay be it so much as a finger upon Luisina, himwill I kill with these two hands."
Never was consternation more profound than that which I flung amongstthem by those words. Giojoso fell to trembling; behind him, Rinolfo, thecause of all this garboil, stared with round big eyes; whilst my mother,all a-quiver, clutched at her bosom and looked at me fearfully, butspoke no word.
I smiled upon them, towering there, conscious and glad of my height forthe first time in my life.
"Well?" I demanded of Giojoso. "For what do you wait? About it, sir, anddo as my mother has commanded you."
He turned to her, all bent and grovelling, arms outstretched inludicrous bewilderment, every line of him beseeching guidance along thispath so suddenly grown thorny.
"Ma--madonna!" he stammered.
She swallowed hard, and spoke at last.
"Do you defy my will, Agostino?"
"On the contrary, madam mother, I am enforcing it. Your will shall bedone; your order shall be given. I insist upon it. But it shall lie withthe discretion of the grooms whether they obey you. Am I to blame ifthey turn cowards?"
O, I had found myself at last, and I was making a furious, joyous use ofthe discovery.
"That... that were to make a mock of me and my authority," she protested.She was still rather helpless, rather breathless and confused, like onewho has suddenly been hurled into cold water.
"If you fear that, madam, perhaps you had better countermand yourorder."
"Is the girl to remain in Mondolfo against my wishes? Are you so... solost to shame?" A returning note of warmth in her accents warned me thatshe was collecting herself to deal with the situation.
"Nay," said I, and I looked at Luisina, who stood there so pale andtearful. "I think that for her own sake, poor maid, it were better thatshe went, since you desire it. But she shall not be whipped hence like astray dog."
"Come, child," I said to her, as gently as I could. "Go pack, and quitthis home of misery. And be easy. For if any man in Mondolfo attempts tohasten your going, he shall reckon with me."
I laid a hand for an instant in kindliness and friendliness upon hershoulder. "Poor little Luisina," said I, sighing. But she shrank andtrembled under my touch. "Pity me a little, for they will not permit meany friends, and who is friendless is indeed pitiful."
And then, whether the phrase touched her, so that her simple littlenature was roused and she shook off what self-control she had everlearnt, or whether she felt secure enough in my protection to dareproclaim her mind before them all, she caught my hand, and, stooping,kissed it.
"O Madonnino!" she faltered, and her tears showered upon that hand ofmine. "God reward you your sweet thought for me. I shall pray for you,Madonnino."
"Do, Luisina," said I. "I begin to think I need it."
"Indeed, indeed!" said my mother very sombrely. And as she spoke,Luisina, as if her fears were reawakened, turned suddenly and wentquickly along the terrace, past Rinolfo, who in that moment smiledviciously, and round the angle of the wall.
"What... what are my orders, Madonna?" quoth the wretched seneschal,reminding her that all had not yet been resolved.
She lowered her eyes to the ground, and folded her hands. She was by nowquite composed again, her habitual sorrowful self.
"Let be," she said. "Let the wench depart. So that she goes we may countourselves fortunate."
"Fortunate, I think, is she," said I. "Fortunate to return to the worldbeyond all this--the world of life and love that God made and that St.Francis praises. I do not think he would have praised Mondolfo, for Igreatly doubt that God had a hand in making it as it is to-day. It istoo... too arid."
O, my mood was finely rebellious that May morning.
"Are you mad, Agostino?" gasped my mother.
"I think that I am growing sane," said I very sadly. She flashed me oneof her rare glances, and I saw her lips tighten.
"We must talk," she said. "That girl..." And then she checked. "Comewith me," she bade me.
But in that moment I remembered something, and I turned aside to lookfor my
friend Rinolfo. He was moving stealthily away, following the roadLuisina had taken. The conviction that he went to plague and jeer ather, to exult over her expulsion from Mondolfo, kindled my anger allanew.
"Stay! You there! Rinolfo!" I called.
He halted in his strides, and looked over his shoulder, impudently.
I had never yet been paid by any the deference that was my due. Indeed,I think that among the grooms and serving-men at Mondolfo I must havebeen held in a certain measure of contempt, as one who would never cometo more manhood than that of the cassock.
"Come here," I bade him, and as he appeared to hesitate I had to repeatthe order more peremptorily. At last he turned and came.
"What now, Agostino?" cried my mother, setting a pale hand upon mysleeve
But I was all intent upon that lout, who stood there before me shiftinguneasily upon his feet, his air mutinous and sullen. Over his shoulder Ihad a glimpse of his father's yellow face, wide-eyed with alarm.
"I think you smiled just now," said I.
"Heh! By Bacchus!" said he impudently, as who would say: "How could Ihelp smiling?"
"Will you tell me why you smiled?" I asked him.
"Heh! By Bacchus!" said he again, and shrugged to give his insolence abarb.
"Will you answer me?" I roared, and under my display of anger he lookedtruculent, and thus exhausted the last remnant of my patience.
"Agostino!" came my mothers voice in remonstrance, and such is the powerof habit that for a moment it controlled me and subdued my violence.
Nevertheless I went on, "You smiled to see your spite succeed. Yousmiled to see that poor child driven hence by your contriving; yousmiled to see your broken snares avenged. And you were following afterher no doubt to tell her all this and to smile again. This is all so, itis not?"
"Heh! By Bacchus!" said he for the third time, and at that my patiencegave out utterly. Ere any could stop me I had seized him by throat andbelt and shaken him savagely.
"Will you answer me like a fool?" I cried. "Must you be taught sense anda proper respect of me?"
"Agostino! Agostino!" wailed my mother. "Help, Ser Giojoso! Do you notsee that he is mad!"
I do not believe that it was in my mind to do the fellow any grievoushurt. But he was so ill-advised in that moment as to attempt to defendhimself. He rashly struck at one of the arms that held him, and by theact drove me into a fury ungovernable.
"You dog!" I snarled at him from between clenched teeth. "Would youraise your hand to me? Am I your lord, or am I dirt of your own kind?Go learn submission." And I flung him almost headlong down the flight ofsteps.
There were twelve of them and all of stone with edges still sharp enoughthough blunted here and there by time. The fool had never suspected inme the awful strength which until that hour I had never suspected inmyself. Else, perhaps, there had been fewer insolent shrugs, fewerfoolish answers, and, last of all, no attempt to defy me physically.
He screamed as I flung him; my mother screamed; and Giojoso screamed.
After that there was a panic-stricken silence whilst he went thuddingand bumping to the bottom of the flight. I did not greatly care if Ikilled him. But he was fortunate enough to get no worse hurt than abroken leg, which should keep him out of mischief for a season and teachhim respect for me for all time.
His father scuttled down the steps to the assistance of that preciousson, who lay moaning where he had fallen, the angle at which the half ofone of his legs stood to the rest of it, plainly announcing the natureof his punishment.
My mother swept me indoors, loading me with reproaches as we went. Shedispatched some to help Giojoso, others she sent in urgent quest of FraGervasio, me she hurried along to her private dining-room. I went veryobediently, and even a little fearfully now that my passion had fallenfrom me.
There, in that cheerless room, which not even the splashes of sunlightfalling from the high-placed windows upon the whitewashed wall couldhelp to gladden, I stood a little sullenly what time she first upbraidedme and then wept bitterly, sitting in her high-backed chair at thetable's head.
At last Gervasio came, anxious and flurried, for already he had heardsome rumour of what had chanced. His keen eyes went from me to my motherand then back again to me.
"What has happened?" he asked.
"What has not happened?" wailed my mother. "Agostino is possessed."
He knit his brows. "Possessed?" quoth he.
"Ay, possessed--possessed of devils. He has been violent. He has brokenpoor Rinolfo's leg."
"Ah!" said Gervasio, and turned to me frowning with full tutorialsternness. "And what have you to say, Agostino?"
"Why, that I am sorry," answered I, rebellious once more. "I had hopedto break his dirty neck."
"You hear him!" cried my mother. "It is the end of the world, Gervasio.The boy is possessed, I say."
"What was the cause of your quarrel?" quoth the friar, his manner stillmore stern.
"Quarrel?" quoth I, throwing back my head and snorting audibly. "I donot quarrel with Rinolfos. I chastise them when they are insolent ordisplease me. This one did both."
He halted before me, erect and very stern--indeed almost threatening.And I began to grow afraid; for, after all, I had a kindness forGervasio, and I would not willingly engage in a quarrel with him. Yethere I was determined to carry through this thing as I had begun it.
It was my mother who saved the situation.
"Alas!" she moaned, "there is wicked blood in him. He has the abominablepride that was the ruin and downfall of his father."
Now that was not the way to make an ally of Fra Gervasio. It did thevery opposite. It set him instantly on my side, in antagonism tothe abuser of my father's memory, a memory which he, poor man, stillsecretly revered.
The sternness fell away from him. He looked at her and sighed. Then,with bowed head, and hands clasped behind him, he moved away from me alittle.
"Do not let us judge rashly," he said. "Perhaps Agostino received someprovocation. Let us hear..."
"O, you shall hear," she promised tearfully, exultant to prove himwrong. "You shall hear a yet worse abomination that was the cause ofit."
And out she poured the story that Rinolfo and his father had run totell her--of how I had shown the fellow violence in the first instancebecause he had surprised me with Luisina in my arms.
The friar's face grew dark and grave as he listened. But ere she hadquite done, unable longer to contain myself, I interrupted.
"In that he lied like the muckworm that he is," I exclaimed. "And itincreases my regrets that I did not break his neck as I intended."
"He lied?" quoth she, her eyes wide open in amazement--not at the fact,but at the audacity of what she conceived my falsehood.
"It is not impossible," said Fra Gervasio. "What is your story,Agostino?"
I told it--how the child out of a very gentle and Christian pity hadreleased the poor birds that were taken in Rinolfo's limed twigs, andhow in a fury he had made to beat her, so that she had fled to me forshelter and protection; and how, thereupon, I had bidden him begone outof that garden, and never set foot in it again.
"And now," I ended, "you know all the violence that I showed him, andthe reason for it. If you say that I did wrong, I warn you that I shallnot believe you."
"Indeed..." began the friar with a faint smile of friendliness. But mymother interrupted him, betwixt sorrow and anger.
"He lies, Gervasio. He lies shamelessly. O, into what a morass of sinhas he not fallen, and every moment he goes deeper! Have I not said thathe is possessed? We shall need the exorcist."
"We shall indeed, madam mother, to clear your mind of foolishness," Ianswered hotly, for it stung me to the soul to be branded thus a liar,to have my word discredited by that of a lout such as Rinolfo.
She rose a sombre pillar of indignation. "Agostino, I am your mother,"she reminded me.
"Let us thank God that for that, at least, you cannot blame me,"answered I, utterly reckless now.
T
he answer crushed her back into her chair. She looked appealingly atFra Gervasio, who stood glum and frowning. "Is he... is he perchancebewitched?" she asked the friar, quite seriously. "Do you think that anyspells might have."
He interrupted her with a wave of the hand and an impatient snort
"We are at cross purposes here," he said. "Agostino does not lie. Forthat I will answer."
"But, Fra Gervasio, I tell you that I saw them--that I saw them withthese two eyes--sitting together on the terrace steps, and he had hisarm about her. Yet he denies it shamelessly to my face."
"Said I ever a word of that?" I appealed me to the friar. "Why, that wasafter Rinolfo left us. My tale never got so far. It is quite true. I didsit beside her. The child was troubled. I comforted her. Where was theharm?"
"The harm?" quoth he. "And you had your arm about her--and you to be apriest one day?"
"And why not, pray?" quoth I. "Is this some new sin that you havediscovered--or that you have kept hidden from me until now? Toconsole the afflicted is an ordination of Mother Church; to love ourfellow-creatures an ordination of our Blessed Lord Himself. I wasperforming both. Am I to be abused for that?"
He looked at me very searchingly, seeking in my countenance--as Inow know--some trace of irony or guile. Finding none, he turned to mymother. He was very solemn.
"Madonna," he said quietly, "I think that Agostino is nearer to being asaint than either you or I will ever get."
She looked at him, first in surprise, then very sadly. Slowly she shookher head. "Unhappily for him there is another arbiter of saintship, Whosees deeper than do you, Gervasio."
He bowed his head. "Better not to look deep enough than to do as youseem in danger of doing, Madonna, and by looking too deep imagine thingswhich do not exist."
"Ah, you will defend him against reason even," she complained. "Hisanger exists. His thirst to kill--to stamp himself with the brand ofCain--exists. He confesses that himself. His insubordination to me youhave seen for yourself; and that again is sin, for it is ordained thatwe shall honour our parents.
"O!" she moaned. "My authority is all gone. He is beyond my control. Hehas shaken off the reins by which I sought to guide him."
"You had done well to have taken my advice a year ago, Madonna. Even nowit is not too late. Let him go to Pavia, to the Sapienza, to study hishumanities."
"Out into the world!" she cried in horror. "O, no, no! I have shelteredhim here so carefully!"
"Yet you cannot shelter him for ever," said he. "He must go out into theworld some day."
"He need not," she faltered. "If the call were strong enough within him,a convent..." She left her sentence unfinished, and looked at me.
"Go, Agostino," she bade me. "Fra Gervasio and I must talk."
I went reluctantly, since in the matter of their talk none could havehad a greater interest than I, seeing that my fate stood in the balanceof it. But I went, none the less, and her last words to me as I wasdeparting were an injunction that I should spend the time until I shouldtake up my studies for the day with Fra Gervasio in seeking forgivenessfor the morning's sins and grace to do better in the future.